Sinanation

You should remember Jason Statham from all the action movies he appeared in. The Transporter Series, the Italian Job, the Expendables: there isn’t a single movie out there in which I saw this guy relaxed and/or happy. Always way too serious and about to kick someone’s ass. A block of ice caressed by the flaming sexy victim whose ass he just saved.

You’d think that he’d be a bit different in real life away from the acting. The photos below certainly certify it isn’t so. All the Statham elements are there: the mean face, the fists always ready to crack some bone, the sleek car plus the hot girlfriend a.k.a Rosie Huntington. Jason must have had his emotions surgically removed during his teenage years just before a director/producer thought he might make a good tough guy on the white screen.

I have been a skier since the age of 5. Got my first skis on in Uludağ, Turkey and have been a fan of the sport ever since. Every season, I desperately try to make time for some snow action, fighting back the vicious office hours and the modern capitalist pressure on the free soul. It is this year that I finally decided to retire my Rossignol Mountain Viper ski boots after years of loyal service. Some experts say ski boots’ lifespan can go up to 200,000 km if they are taken good care of. I must have certainly reached that mileage with my longtime buddies.

The decision for change is tough since it requires parting ways with comfy liners and loyal boots. Yet, the part that comes right after is even more challenging. If you have been content with your boots’ feel I recommend you stick with the same brand on your new purchase. Go online and do as much research as you can. All the mountain gear brands (Rossignol, Salamon, Nordica, Atomic, etc.) have comprehensive websites that teach the different credentials (flex, liner softness, clip count, etc.) on a ski boot and help you determine what kind of a skier you are (beginner, advanced, darting, insane, etc.). We are blessed with such wealth of information in this century that it should be regarded as pure pitifulness if we don’t take advantage of the resources.

Once you decide on the brand and the model, grab a pen and a blank A4 paper. Trace your feet onto the paper with the other leg’s knee on the floor. Then measure the trace (from tip to toe) with a ruler (in cm). That measurement will take care of your Mondo (measured in cm) boot size. Do not go above or below that size. Your feet are not meant to be comfortable when you try on the boot. They should squeeze in every available inch in order to provide maximum control on the slopes. Yet be assured that things will only get better as the inside liner slowly takes the shape of your feet.

I went once again for Rossignol on my new ski boots. I have been happy with it for a long time and the fact that the French brand was originally established solely to make ski boots gives me some kind of a reassurance. I picked up a 90 flex (the resistance of the boot when you try to bend it), all-mountain instead of 110 flex (harder than 90) racing, hoping to sacrifice a bit of speed for even more control on the curves. Will be back with more review once I take the boots out for a spin.

We all experience it more than a few times in life. We pass through a cycle when we push the limits to be healthy and fit. Proteins, vitamins, work outs. We crash and burn every muscle to stare at that mirror and feel much better than ever before. Yet, the iron man days do not, can not and should not last long (especially if we have the appetite for good food).

Just when we think we reached a new high in our physical stamina, we are delivered an unexpected package: a promotion at work, a new exciting relationship and/or a deeply saddening circumstance. The 6 km. cardios, the 40 min. weightlifts, the tiny dinners slowly make way to cozy movie nights, longer meetings and/or chunky family dinner parties. Loose pants become a little tighter leading us to believe that the sweet fattening can be reversible anytime. The mirror reflects a little more “bloating” above the hips making us believe its just temporary gas. Even the scale leads us to fantasize about nominal decreases in numbers, helping us think we are back on a diet filled with sweets and carbs.

The voluntary sacrifice we made to fully commit to our new “package” only becomes the elephant in the room when someone random we haven’t seen for months casually (and rather evil-like) drops the bomb on our weight situation. Only then we become the elephant who has hopefully transferred his/her satisfaction in fitness to some other aspect in his/her life.

The Turkish Apachi has the means to an uncharted luxurious life. Probably born outside the metropolitan city to a working class family. Educated in mediocre schools around town and most probably never made it to college, the Turkish Apachi yearns for the “glamourous” life he has witnessed around the posh neighborhoods throughout his teen years. He finally gets his break. An old relative leaves him a field/land that once valued nothing but is now a fortune because it lies on the outskirts of the ever-expanding city. Or he is the son of a famous folk singer. Or he teams up with a clan of mobsters and becomes one of the big guys doing the dirty work. Or he becomes a famous soccer player or an actor in a popular TV show.

He drives around a flashing red or a dazzling neon color pimped up sports car. Even the Porsche is not enough to reflect his glamourous status. Only a Ferrari, a Lamborghini, a Chevrolet Camaro, a Chrysler Viper, a BMW M5 or a Corvette can match up to his needs. The car windows covered with deep black filters. The rims never come standard, are large in inches and abundantly unique in color.

Hair is gelled to the extreme. Sunglasses never small. He prefers the patent leather black shoes and recently bought Dolce&Gabbana jeans. White tight cotton shirts and big lettered thick brand belts complete his taste in fashion.

The Turkish Apachi is almost always accompanied by a friend or a lover. If the friend is male, he will probably be a photocopy of the main subject (possibly only much more fatter so that he will not be an immediate threat to his friend’s aura). And if the friend is female, she will escort thin high-heel boots (no matter what time of the day) with extremely skinny jeans tucked in, a fitted turtleneck sweater and a white faux-fur coat. The shoulder handbag will be tiny but will preferably be covered in a brand’s logo.

The outing will almost always include a meal and will be cherished at the most “exposed” cafe/restaurants around the city. The popular shopping malls will be the first choice with a constant pedestrian traffic and well-tipped valet service. After the stomachs are full, the Apachi will lead his friends to a coffee shop near the Bosphorus for a game of backgammon, dominos or a hookah session. 

The night, if there is any energy left, will continue only at Reina.

In recent years, with the unexplainable boom in real estate, The Turkish Apachi became an unavoidable part of the metropolitan life. He seems to be clueless about the future and yearns to make the most of today with an unhealthy flush of money. For me, he is one of the most exquisite examples to how our values and dynamics changed so dramatically in recent years. I cherish the opportunity for analysis, but greatly regret the unavoidable spread.

There are moments in life when we are reminded of how precious and fragile our existence is. Unfortunately those moments mostly come packed with the loss of a loved one. Within despair and melancholia we crave to reattach our thoughts to reality. Only at that moment do we separate ourselves from the nonsense that disturbs our peace and contentment. We once again believe in our simple being and embrace the simplicity with a bit of disappointment and an unexpected flow of joy.

It was only a few days ago I watched our baby French Bulldog, Coco jump around with joy and chug any delicious food she could get its paws on. She was as healthy as a puppy could be. And today I receive notice of her sudden death as her heart couldn’t take the narcosis injected in prior to a necessary hip surgery.

As I look back at her rather short stay with us, I would like to believe that she lived a happy life surrounded by the people that unconditionally loved her. She was simply a great friend and will be long missed.

Going through a friend’s wedding photos this morning forced me to delve into a universal challenge. Being the single guy at a wedding, especially when most of the friends are present with their dates, is one of the most challenging roles to take on. You are at the heart of a celebration with a great focus, obviously, on love. You came empty handed, unprepared and are couple-less. So, it is no wonder that you will most likely be treated like a charity case by all the ones who made into the couples scene.

This is the night everyone hopes to look their best and have all spent a good of amount of time making sure they do. Hairsprays, liters of perfume, caps of makeup, boxes of jewelry glide graciously all around the event. The surroundings are dressed up with fancy flowers and decoration. The wedding is an exclusive event with hand selected guests, free booze and hopefully good music. Although the cocktail time promises to be a carefree social environment, it will be difficult for the single not to feel the pressure of coupling if any older family members are around. “Look at this lovely event. When will we see the day when you finally take the hand of a nice girl?”, “Have you met my friend Suzy’s daughter? Isn’t she lovely? You guys should dance tonight. I will be looking for you two on the dance floor.” The cocktail hour will be the moment the single guy realizes that he is actually not a grown-up for good.

Things will get worse as the shots pour down, the music gets louder and you as the single find yourself tipsy in the middle of the dance floor with your jacket already cooling off somewhere else. By that time, on top of your own vulnerability and the family suggestions, the friends will also be putting their bets on you. ”Dude just go for the easy girl who looks like she just got back from a safari with her leopard dress.” ”Dude you should definitely hit on that girl. She is sizzling and drunk.” Although the specified girl is actually nice and drunk, she is all prepped up to outsmart the lousy advancers. She might be going through an emotional phase as she celebrates her friend’s new family, but her reasoning is way too sober to allow any inappropriate scenery in front of all the guests (at least until the early morning when she might finally give in to the Cinderella-like stories and find peace in your arms).

Despite all the uncomfortable challenges forced upon the “single”, you can still easily manage the floor until the early stages of dancing. Catching up with distant friends, mingling with the bride, shouldering the groom and jumping like monkeys on the floor with your buddies. All fun and games until everyone slowly fades away to their loved ones and you are required by nature to approach the opposite sex who is certified to be a member of your clan “the singles”.

Dedicated to my dear friend, Emre Demirel…

Are you so confused that you don’t know how to respond? Are you faced with a totally unexpected situation? Is the person in front of you mumbling and you are inclined to add onto the conversation? Is the scale showing you 4 pounds heavier since the weigh a few days ago?

There is a new viral word whispered around my group of friends. Used at a moment of surprise and/or rage, healthier than cursing, classier than yelling, born in Spain and currently lounging all around Istanbul.

Did anyone ever tell you you like an elephant? Que?

I remember Benetton from my childhood years: the bright colors, the legendary green and the huge unaltared portraits of people from all around the world. Benetton was one of the first brands that truly embraced globalization and  made us remember how connected we all are. I used it wear its clothing a lot back then, but through the years it somehow lost its popularity among my generation. We have viciously moved onto the more expensive brands and felt a little more “privileged” wearing their products. Even though the trade disappeared the identity stayed strong. So with the past in mind it wasn’t a surprise but an awe when I received news about Benetton’s newest campaign, UNHATE, generously promoted throughout the world with the ever so powerful politicians kissing one another on the lips. Only a handful of today’s brands can publicly picture Obama kissing Hu Jintao, the Paramount Leader of China or Sarkozy kissing Merkel. Benetton is certainly one of them.

You too can be a part of the cause with a kiss. Post your pics online on the UNHATE website. Though I recommend you to go for simpler compositions like kissing the vegetable you hate to avoid any more serious controversy/confusion.

If you have been reading the news lately, you will notice the expanding crisis in Europe. It is so viral that it makes the turbulence in the Americas look like a scratch on your piggy bank and the social uprise around the middle east like a quarrel at a school recess. There is currently a delusive play of extraordinary amounts of money all around the world and I am at times scared to read them out loud. It is as if our governments went on a shopping spree for a few decades on borrowed money and have not looked back until they were kneeled down at gunpoint by their lenders. How did we get in so much shit without even smelling it?

Politicians have been assassinated. Governments have been fired. Unemployment rates have gone above 20%s. Hunger has never been as lethal. Ownership of money has never been as imbalanced since the time of the oligarchs. Debt rates have gone beyond 100% of GDPs. Natural disasters we thought we were immune to brought down yet again our most advanced civilizations. It seems that everything we have been critisizing about the past came back to hunt us down. We thought we were improving life, but we now realize that we have just been renaming, definitely not revising, the ancient systems. So we are back at where we started only with more advanced technology that still serves the same purpose it served centuries ago and causes even more pollution. The ships still sail, only faster. The cars still drive, only faster. The internet still mails, only faster. The oven still cooks, only faster. We have forced the whole world to run on a faster cycle and selfishly made an exception for our own kind. That is the core of the imbalance we now struggle to overcome.

The ground below us is shaking, making us the living witnesses of a great change. A change that will take chapters in history books of the future. America and Europe have been the sole bright stars of the past with their economic power and success in manipulation. Yet, as they loose the economic power and thus the political stability, they are no longer supine to their Asian competitors. The only question here is if politically and financially stronger Asia will now be able to influence and manipulate the rest of the world as well as America and/or Europe?

We are at the point of an unavoidable shift, but are not yet aware where it will come from. We all made it to the corner where we need to make the turn to a better world. Hybrid cars, solar energy, better irrigation systems, climate controls, the technology is there but it is not yet available to the general public.

We are in the eye of the storm hoping to finally make it to calm waters.

Do you ever notice how chalky your teeth get after a spinach meal (especially cooked spinach)? I like the veggie but I hate how it strips away my teeth’s precious glittery enamel. A bit of online research shows that it is the oxalic acid found inside the spinach leaves that cause this chalky feeling. The long cooking causes the cell walls to break infusing out more acid, thus increasing the earthiness we get in our mouths.

Despite the revelation I will continue supporting Popeye’s vision, but at least now I know the main ingredient behind the nasty spinach teeth.