Sinanation

I want to leave you with some good music before taking off for the Turkish Military Service.

This set takes me back to a summer wedding I attended in Istanbul a few years ago. One of my best friends’ sister was getting married. After a delicious dinner right next to the Bosphorus, the DJ brought everyone together on the dance floor with popular songs from the 80s. From parents to friends, every guy had a beautiful woman in his arms making the long tails of the evening dresses glide in the air with the sound of music. I hope I can bring back the spirit in that night with Shall We Dance?

Obliged, uneasy, confused, but relieved, I will be taking the flight to a very different home this time. I will leave reason aside (as so many friends ordered me to do) and take the step into the training camp where I will complete the mandatory military service as a Turkish man. The length of the training is determined by the degree of education and whether or not the citizen resides in Turkey or overseas. Being a college graduate who lived/worked overseas for over three years, I was lucky to be admitted into the basic 3-week training (rather than the 6-month admission) that takes place quarterly in Burdur, Turkey.

I am packed with hundreds of little necessities I was recommended to buy by the friends who already completed the service. I am leaving knowing that I won’t become a fully-functional soldier, but will finally complete the service I was required to do since I graduated from college. With that in mind, I expect that I won’t be able to attend Sinanation as much as I did until this time. I hope to be back by the first week of May 2010 (hopefully with thoughtful and hilarious stories from the army days). Until then I hope you’ll check back to listen to some good music and/or read previous posts that you might have missed along the way.

All the best,

Sinan

A heart that is worth a thousand words, a thousand guts, a thousand kisses, a thousand fights, a thousand make-ups, a thousand welcomes and a thousand farewells… It comes surprisingly soon, unexpectedly easy. Delivered on a ripped piece of paper with a borrowed pen. It is surrounded by daylight, music, food and wine. It is brought to life at a small restaurant in New York. You are having the most intriguing conversation with an Italian girl sitting at the table next to yours. You tell her about your Italian business partner and she starts teaching you the language. Your pronunciation makes her laugh. You both enjoy each other’s company in this overly-crowded and eventful restaurant you both happen to be in. An accidental acquittance, a pleasant conversation, a short piece of reminiscence  stored in your ever-expanding library…

This little piece of evidence popped out of my blazer’s inside pocket and pulled me back a few years to Le Bilboquet. One saturday, one brunch, some tuna tartare, a medium rare filet mignon and too many glasses of the famous rosé. That was how it all started…

Up until Shutter Island, I had difficulty confirming the ingenious of Martin Scorsese. I admit that I haven’t seen all his movies, have been a big fan of Casino and been questioning why Departed was so long since I saw it on the white screen. So with mixed reviews and the possibility of an unnecessarily lengthy movie I have taken my seat in the movie theater to see Shutter Island.

Drama is set in 1954, U.S. Marshal Teddy Daniels (DiCaprio”s character in the movie) is investigating the disappearance of a murderess who escaped from a hospital for the criminally insane and is presumed to be hiding on the remote Shutter Island.

From the moment I saw Teddy Daniels trying to fight off seasickness on the ferry to the island, I sat on a floor of needles. Alert, disturbed, cornered, curious and extremely uncomfortable I have watched the movie to see the main character dissolve into one of the most complicated plots I have witnessed since the Game, the Sixth Sense and the Others. I couldn’t relax until the credits. The world of the insane is an unbelievable complicated maze and it takes great talent to break into it with a single shot. Scorsese takes his genius and pours it over the amazing performance by DiCaprio to explain how, why and where a world we are all frightened to observe and analyze exists without any definite exit.

There will be moments when your hands will sweat with the expectation of a scene that will never come about. You will most probably solve the equation towards the 3/4 of the movie, but you will still leave it a little perplexed and curious.

Girls think it is so easy. Gather a few cute friends. Blow-dry the hair. Put on the make-up, a cute smile with a flirty mimic, some short tight skirts, sexy tops and high heels. Once out the door, they are ready to conquer the nightlife in New York. 80% of the bouncers will be happy to let them in and mingle with us poor guys who are forced to drink at least a few bottles of alcohol at a table with a fake sexy waitress who is looking to suck out the limits on our credit cards.

Do not tell us that we can (maybe) avoid a table reservation. We don’t have the luxury, the character or the patience to deny the rules of the game. It takes ratios, bribes, credit cards and a totally superficial acquaintance to make it to the famous club where you want to dance us until bedtime.

The moment we are behind that red velvet rope we are reminded that we are there to be spiritually abused and financially raped. We get the attitude from the host who probably can not come close to the education, vision and culture we have been injected with over the years. We become the victim in front of an “average Joe” looking to abuse all the power he/she has been surprisingly given as the person who decides who to let into this luscious club that will only be popular for a few more months. We are constantly asked how many is in our party as we watch weird guys cutting through the line with their whole clan. We point towards the faces of our friends hoping they will pass the “beauty” test. We overhear the bouncers deciding the faith of our night by asking each other “what do you think?” with an extremely arrogant face. We wait. We ask for attention like a helpless puppy although a lion roars “you are too good for this” inside, grabbing onto our male ego. We are finally slapped with the sentence “I.D.s out!”. We hug although we despise. We shake hands although we hate the deal.

Each time we walk up to that club door we have cramps thinking about the next step. Yet, we walk the line with the prospect of a fun night with close friends. We take the attitude with the hope of a kiss from a girl we fancy. Alcohol helps only to ease the tension built up at the start of a night out in the city.

We pay the bill with a bad hangover and a regret that reminds us how we will pull through another night out in the city that never sleeps.

I have never been to the infamous Socialista at Jane Hotel in New York (113 Jane St.). It became so popular at one point that numerous New York blogs and magazines started writing about every detail and socialite visitor of the hip lounge/nightclub. Yet with growing noise complaints from the rich and influential residents of the West Village, Socialista was forced to close its doors before we could visit the place. The only time we gave it a try was when we got the most well-known New York bouncer excuse “sorry but we are closed for a private party” casually thrown over us.

The supposedly cool and nontraditional bohemian Cuban  lounge handed over its keys to a completely different setting a few months ago. The bar filled with alcohol turned into a fruit and desert display with abundant coffee. The red velvet sofas left their place to comfortable leather chairs. Bright light became a necessary accessory in this high-ceiling room that once housed dark night sessions of live Latin music. It became the second location of the original Gitane of SoHo. The menu stayed the same with food as delicious as before. The dirty look of the SoHo location, which forced visitors to question the hygiene level in the kitchen, transferred into a fresh, well-established restaurant that also accepts credit cards. Rather than being a source of bad day-after hangover, the place became a fun healing ground after wild Saturday nights.

It finally came all together here. This place could be my new most favorite Sunday eatery. I recommend:

The fresh watermelon juice (with ice)
Avocado, Lemon juice, Olive oil, Chili Flakes on Seven Grain Toast
Cucumber, Yogurt and Mint Salad with hummus, chili flakes and pita bread
Moroccan Couscous with red peppers, raisins, toasted pine nuts, hummus and eggplant with organic chicken
Orange Blossom Waffle with fruit, maple syrup and a scoop of vanilla ice-cream

Get everything to share if you want to avoid obesity.

As humans we are blessed with the luxury of imagination and trial. We form perfect little worlds in our heads, but don’t always have the guts to jump into them. We save them in the database with the comfort of being able to make mistakes, change our mind and, if need be, fail. If unsuccessful, we find the strength to get back up and look at life from a completely different point of view. As always we are aware of but amazed by this quality and can not imagine pulling it off again. Yet, before we know it we start the new cycle. We dream. We find the opportunity to reach for it. We succeed or fail.

I also have a dream. A fantasy stripped from all the complications of my life today. Stripped from the ambitions of the capitalist world. Stripped from the emotional dependence of the romantic world. Stripped from the gratitude and indebtedness towards tradition.

It starts with leaving the office work behind. Winter time I get into a tiny chalet on top of a mountain I love to ski. I become a ski instructor from 9am to 3pm. I ski the way I want afterwards until the slopes close off for the day. On the base, I start mixing music and DJing at a cozy bar. I also own a small sports shop, renting out ski gear to travelers. It is a business that handles itself without much maintenance. I have dinner with a few friends in front of a fireplace surrounded by trunks of wood with abundant red wine. Cheeks turn red confused by the cold, the snow, the sun, the fireplace and the wine. The day ends with an exhausting smile on my face around 10-11pm.

Spring and autumn time I am back in the city. I hang out with family and friends. I mingle with the necessities and luxuries of the urban life. I take care of all the administrative work for artandseek. I keep meeting new emerging artists.

Summer time I take the road to the south. South of Turkey, Italy or France. Living in a small shack close to the beach, I manage a water sports shop and a little restaurant with good food and music. From wakeboarding to surfing, I manage a small school of 5-10 instructors. I am on the beach from 9am to 6pm. I make the time to paint. I have the small corner of art always prepped up in one corner of the shack. Fresh seafood is the way to go for dinner with extra-chilled sparkling wine.

I imagine it to be an amazing experience. Wallpaper images currently on my computer screen become my actual scenery. Suited-up business meetings become cheers on the beach and in front of a fireplace. Foreign language comes close to mother-tongue. The unnatural gym time becomes the fun, natural part of daily life. The sea and the sun eats away all the skin problems. The constant fresh air cleans out the lungs. Calorie counting surrenders to the benefit of a truly active life.

I know I have the comfort of making a mistake, changing my mind and, if need be, failing, but, I am not ready take the plunge yet. I have this perfect world saved up in the database, hoping one day I can make it a reality (even if partially).

Sezen Aksu is one of the most successful and well-known pop singers in Turkey. She has been on stage since 1970s and has influenced generations with her funky but sometimes melodramatic songs. One of her widely-used nicknames is “Minik Serce” (Little Sparrow). Aksu also appeared in numerous movies.

This particular song is a duet with Ceza, a very famous Turkish rapper, and its titled “Gelsin Hayat Bildigi Gibi” (Let life flow as it would). I really like how they finally mix traditional voices with emerging talents. Gelsin Hayat Bildigi Gibi is a great example. The lyrics are also worth noting (but it would take me forever to translate). Enjoy.

Yasmin brought this quote to my attention yesterday. She says it is currently her most favorite and I think she has all the reasons to make it so. It summarizes all the things I wanted to say in Precious in one single sentence. Its author is Samuel Langhorne Clemens, also known by his pen name, Mark Twain.

Never allow someone to be your priority while allowing yourself to be their option.

Location: Villa Victoria is located on a hilltop in Vitet overlooking multiple bays of the St. Barthélemy. The location is known as the highest peak (Mt. du Vitet) on the island with multiple luxury villas and is a few km away from the capital, Gustavia.

St. Barts is thought to be discovered by Christopher Columbus around 1490s. It has always been under the control of the French, but was traded to Sweden for a short period of time. The easiest route from New York to the island today is to fly to the Juliana Airport of St. Maarten and then either take a boat/ferry or a charter flight (known to be extremely adventurous with St. Barts’ famous airstrip).

The island has 17 beaches (only Anse du Grand Colombier is secluded enough to be inaccessible by car) and most are known to be blesses with white sandy beaches and posh but relaxed bay-side restaurants.

Type: The villa set on two floors with three bedrooms and bathrooms. The living room is blessed with high ceilings and a modern open kitchen. Numerous floor-to-ceiling windows bring in the light as well as amazing island scenery.

The villa might be a few km away from all the action in Gustavia and Baie de St. Jean and is not set right next to the beach. Yet, with a wrap-around infinity pool and an amazing center lounge right in the middle of it, it kind of makes up for the loss in location.

Price Tag: USD 5.8m