Il y a tout ce que vous voulez aux Champs-Elysées

i always walk around town listening to my ipod. three months ago, a friend bought me the latest shuffle model, a genius solution that comes in the tiniest size – main drawback is, however…it constantly plays in shuffle mode (no surprises, given the name…) something that sometimes makes you feel you have hardly any control over the choice of music you are listening too. i thought about this as i was crossing a dodgy part of town today.

a mere ten minutes walk from the centre, and right behind the hilton hotel and the rather civilised neighbourhood surrounding the “Fuar” (trade fair) and the Kultur Park – you find yourself in what looks like a corner of El Cairo, minus the desert sand in the air. my students are not fond of the area and they say only “apaches” (a slang term to indicate kurds) can live there. and while i am not as squeamish (nor racist) – today i was kind of taken aback in noticing how dirty the streets were; what kind of humanity peeps unfriendly through the shops’ windows, behind the wheels of beaten up cars…with small kids sitting on the sidewalks and trash, dust, noise sort of building up in volume and chaos everywhere.

all of a sudden i looked like an unusual, unidentified and out of place passer by - landed by accident in some corner of a town looking like a random cross between karachi and minsk after a major street riot.
at times i have the feeling that today’s turkey is an unpredictable hotchpotch of arabic fierceness and balkan unruliness – but i would never dare to say this aloud. locals here seem to dread to be compared to arab people…they see it as the ultimate form of insult, for whatever reason.

anyway…the main funny thing today was that…as i was zig-zagging between trash, beggars, street vendors, scooters zooming past on the sidewalk, cars parked everywhere, decrepit shoeshine men, women dressed in traditional dresses and headscarves and older men wearing anatolian hats…I realised with a certain puzzlement that my ipod was cheerfully playing joe dassin’s “aux champs elysees”…

Il y a tout ce que vous voulez aux Champs-Elysées

... yeah, right - i thought, only (very) partly amused.

(ii)
as i was trying to wake up under the shower, this morning - i was surprised to find my little boy knocking on the shower door, the house's cordless phone in his hand. trying quickly to get the water out of my eyes and some (at least some) soap away from my neck...i distinctively heard my mother's voice chanting "sweetie, it is na-naaaa here!!" - to which, with a markedly unimpressed face, he passed me the phone.
- mum, it's me - i said.
"are you at the hospital then?" she asked, with the voice of someone who has just survived an asthma attack.
- mum, you have just called my fixed line. at home. - i said.
"so - you are not at the hospital then?" she insisted.
- no. i am in the shower right now. no hospital -
"but...i called your mobile and there was no answer...ha, i was so sure they had admitted you"
- i am in the shower - i heard my voice repeating, and there was something slightly painful in it.
"speaking about your mobile" my mother continued " i was actually wondering whether you have memorised the emergency number to call an ambulance to fetch you...just in case".
- an ambulance? what for?
"for emergency".
- mum - i tried to cut the conversation short - i am not sure if you realise that in this country...if i call an ambulance...the odds are i will never ever see one showing up...if not three months late, if not at the wrong address...always hoping the driver does not decide he would rather have some tea before checking what the matter is.

but i do not think she listened much.
especially to the truest bit... the tea part -

.............Il y a tout ce que vous voulez aux Champs-Elysées!!!!!!!!!!!!

(iii)
dropped my boy at kindergarden this morning. as we entered the school's gate - i was greeted by another mum pushing her three year old child (k.) in a pram. k. looked like someone just taken forcibly out of bed and sported massive black bags under his eyes. "he loves his sleep" his mother remarked beaming "he would stay in bed till 11 am every single day" -
wow, lucky you - i reassured her - i wish i could say the same. ours...he is in bed at 8.30 pm and wakes up in between 7.30 and 8am. "you see...you are the lucky one then" she concluded with a smile "he never goes to bed before 2am".

2 AM! blast... i pictured myself having to endure bizarre routines involving my little one roaming the house till 2 AM and had to pause for breath.
however - this is another funny thing about families here. children are happily kept up till late, with late meaning midnight, 1 or 2 am. they escort their parents on every outing to restaurants, parties and family gatherings - and even when they stay home they are sent to bed at unbelievable hours.
the 2am story made me think of peter hedges - who once wrote:

"children fall asleep so you can love them again"

but...at the end of the day...

"Il y a tout ce que vous voulez aux Champs-Elysées"
in karachi, minsk, the "apache" part of town...or at the hospital (under the shower) - regardless...