A Turkish friend has recently introduced me to an old sport,
and when I say, “old sport,” I’m not talking about terms of endearment in The Great Gatsby, although I would much
prefer reading The Great Gatsby and
relaxing in my recliner to participating in any sports these days. This sport
isn’t tennis or discus throwing or anything that requires skill. It’s walking.
Just plain old, ordinary walking. I used to love walking in Portland, back when
I had a dog, and back when I lived downtown. But these days all I want to do is
read. I might as well buy one of those mermaid sleeping bags that keep popping
up in online advertisements. Who needs legs anyway? I can be a mermaid who
reads all day.
Today I struck a deal with my lazy mermaid self and purchased
three new books while I was on my walk. Now I have new books by Julio Cortazar,
Margaret Atwood, and Evelyn Waugh. I really don’t need new books, but I figured
after so many steps, I had earned them.
My walking buddy sends me photos of the sights she sees on
her walks. Sometimes we meet up for our therapeutic walks and appreciate the
sights together. We slipped into a very interesting store in Kadikoy that
doubled as a woman’s home. She sold everything from action figures to
furniture. A surplus of cats had taken over the home/store and the shop keeper
greeted us in her pajamas and bathrobe. She apologized for the smell and told
us, “I’m also living here.” I enjoy these quirky encounters on our walks.
My friend and I snap pictures of dilapidated Ottoman houses,
and ramshackle gates that people have built out of found materials. For some
reason, I take interest in things that are literally falling apart and deem
them photo-worthy. But when I walk along the Bosporus and take in a gorgeous
view of this city I love, I think about principles that are falling apart,
trust that is falling apart, standards and ideals that are falling apart. Like
America, Turkey has a sturdy foundation and a brave founder to whom people owe
everything. Without Ataturk, there would be no Turkey. Without our founding
fathers, there would be no America as we know it. I think about the strong
foundation and the great minds who helped build our country and then I think
about the mad man who is currently running the show. When that thought creeps
into my mind, even the most beautiful view becomes clouded with melancholy.
An ex-boyfriend wrote to me yesterday to ask if I had
participated in the Women’s March in Washington, DC. No, but I have the pink
yarn to make a hat. A Women’s March was going to be held in Istanbul on Women’s
Day, which is March 8th, but it was banned by Turkish authorities.
No big surprise there. I honestly wouldn’t have participated in the march, for
the same reason I don’t go out walking with a bullseye on my chest. My best bet
is to take part in my own one-woman marches on a daily basis. I don’t need a
lousy Women’s Day as some kind of consolation prize for
all the discrimination and crimes against women. Do you want to know how to
make this year’s Women’s Day really special? Impeach 45. That would be a good
way to start making amends.
