1. THE GUIDE ISTANBUL 14
TURKISH CULTURE ARTS&CULTURE
Ramadan is the ninth month
in the Islamic calendar, and
the holiest month of the year for
Muslims around the world. It is
believed that Muhammad received
the first verse of the Quran during
Ramadan – the night of recitation
by the angel Gabriel is Kadir
Gecesi (the Night of Power), and
Muslims offer special prayers in
remembrance.
Due to its basis on the cycles of
the moon, Ramadan moves back
every year (compared with the
Gregorian calendar) – in 2015, it
will start on June 18 and end on
July 17. For the religious, Ramadan
fasting begins at sunrise and ends
at sunset; after the evening call to
prayer, the fast is broken with the
iftar meal. This is an occasion for
family and friends to gather around
the iftar table and appreciate the
value of sharing food together.
If you’re from a different faith or
feel uncomfortable fasting, you
shouldn’t reject an invitation
to an iftar meal – people are
usually friendly and welcoming
during Ramadan, whatever
your background.
Turkish Muslims traditionally
start the meal with three
dates and water, after
which they fill themselves
with dishes including börek
pastries, Ramazan pidesi
(flatbread topped with nigella
seeds), mantı (Central Asian
dumplings), hünkar beğendi
(eggplant puree with lamb),
and kuzu tandır (tandoori
lamb). A vital part of the
meal is the dessert, often
güllaç (milky dessert with
pomegranate seeds), as well
as baklava and künefe (sugar-
soaked cheese pastry).
The sacred month is not only
about fasting and feasting,
however; by not eating
during the day, Muslims aim
to empathize with the poor,
sharpen their discipline, and
become closer to God. The
Islamic principles of zekat (alms-
giving) and sadaka (voluntary
charity) are emphasized in
Ramadan, meaning that no-one
should go hungry in the city
except by choice.
Ramadan’s grand finale is the
day of Eid al-Fitr, known in
Turkish as Ramazan Bayramı
or Şeker Bayramı. Similar to
Halloween celebrations in
the US, children go door to
door telling their neighbors
“Bayramınız kutlu olsun” (May
your holiday be blessed) in
return for sweets and candy.
Like all holidays, Ramazan
Bayramı is about the individual,
the family, and the community
– a great way to connect with
your neighborhood in Istanbul!
For more details on local Ramadan
customs, recipes, and the most popular
staple foods for fast-breaking, go to
www.theguideistanbul.com
Ramadan
in Istanbul

2. THE GUIDE ISTANBUL 16
INTERVIEW ARTS&CULTURE
You’re an architect by profession,
but your name has recently
become well known for
photography. What kind of
relationship is there between the
two subjects?
I started with photography on
Instagram about two years ago.
Within a short time I was carried
away by the growth of these photos,
and right now it’s a very important
part of my life. There’s a very
significant relationship between
my photos and architecture. Above
all I’m often using architectural
elements and the geometry, colors,
and designs of buildings’ facades.
Your images are very different
from the usual tourist pictures.
Was this a deliberate choice?
Absolutely. I wanted to consider an
Istanbul different from the popular
one, a lesser-known Istanbul, in my
work. Although I like the images of
Istanbul that we’re used to, I think
they reflect a very one-dimensional
and superficial picture. Outside of
Istanbul, the city is often known for
its mystical, Eastern qualities, while
displaying the city’s modern and
more Western face creates a more
striking effect.
How many faces do you think
Istanbul has, and which of these
should we see more of?
It has many kinds of different
faces, Istanbul, and many of
these aren’t known at all.
Istanbul’s an amazing city. It’s
both Eastern and Western;
historical, mystical, though
in some ways also a modern
city; chaotic but with calm
corners; under crooked and
tasteless development - but
at unexpected moments
surprising structures can
confront you. This is a city of
contrasts. In every corner of
the city there are a thousand
different lives, and for that
reason it has so many faces.
Istanbul has an infinite number
of aspects that can be expressed
in photographs, but sadly these
aren’t often used.
What’s your favorite
neighborhood in Istanbul?
To be honest, in terms of the
neighborhood feel I prefer
historical, character-filled
neighborhoods like Kuzguncuk.
Many of the places I’ve chosen
as subjects for my photographs
don’t have a real neighborhood
feel unfortunately. Due to our
lack of urban planning, these
areas of Istanbul could be
part of any city at all. By the
way, the area I use most in my
photographs is Maltepe.
To see more of Yener Torun’s
striking photography, follow him
on Instagram: @cimkedi.
Yener Torun
Bold Faces
of the City

3. THE GUIDE ISTANBUL 18
xxxxxxx ARTS&CULTURE
Every third Tuesday, a group of locals and
visitors gathers at Arsen Lüpen in Taksim
for Spoken Word Istanbul. Founded three
years ago by Merve Pehlivan, Spoken Word
is one of the biggest open mic nights in the
city, and it’s become a lively place for poets,
novelists, and musicians to make themselves
heard. In this section we present a small
portion of their work.
Spoken Word Istanbul: every third Tuesday,
Arsen Lüpen, Mis Sokak No.15, 4th floor,
www.facebook.com/SpokenWordIstanbul.
Duty
Eric James
‘We all have souls to save.’ The
pastor of my church never failed
to remind me of this when I was a
kid. The words hung like a banner
in my head as I walked up the road
to the mosque in Karacaahmet. I
was new to the Istanbul back then,
and I figured if the city had a soul,
I might find it under the domes,
where people talk about them the
most. Back home in the States, it
was the unforgiving lines of the
small, Midwestern churches that
people gathered under in order
to judge each other. Maybe it was
different here. After entering the
building, I settled into the back
corner to observe everything and
keep under the radar. I decided
to kneel, because it was as close a
movement as I could muster to this
religion’s prayer, and sitting cross-
legged somehow felt more offensive.
In retrospect, I don’t think it much
mattered.
My knees met the comfortable,
red carpet as I watched a handful
of men bend their foreheads to
the plush rug in silence. They had
looked at me unfavorably when
I came in. Now mid-prayer, one
man produced a smart phone
from his pocket. He tapped at the
glass unhurriedly before resuming
communion with god.
It was a still moment in a beautiful
space, ablaze with light from the
gold-embossed windows, each of
which displayed the high art of
those hypnotic, geometric patterns
the Seljuk Turks had centuries ago
perfected in their devotion. My eyes
tried to follow the figures, the lines
of stars that extended outward to
arrowheads which interweave
with and become yet more stars;
visual ode to mathematics,
precision, and adoration. It
seemed to me the most perfect
intersection of art and academia,
real and the abstract - both
calculating and wildly emotional.
From the ceiling hung a massive,
delicate glass chandelier, which
spiraled outward in thin, circular
rungs toward the floor beneath
it, off of which trickled drops of
glass, as if the whole structure
had been coated in liquid light,
and was in a perpetual state of
drying. Across the walls ran rivers
of Arabic calligraphy, which
swooped, bent, and blended its
own lettering in a concealing
manner, disguised as a most
gorgeous and stately art, though
I knew the religion would never
admit it as such. It was a space of
light and gold and peace, and I sat
there, doubting my own doubt,
wondering which god I would
ever pray to again.
The next morning, as I open the
door to the late-fall rain and an
hour-long commute to work,
I’m surprised to see another
figure in the street. At that hour
there usually aren’t many people
moving. The well-dressed and
impossibly old uncle now in front
of me, defining the words ‘respect’
and ‘duty,’ as he purposefully plods
his way back from the earliest of
prayers, is one of them. He looks
familiar, and not in the way that
all elderly men appear in style
and demeanor in this city. I had
seen him in the mosque the day
before as he prayed. The street
frames him differently though,
and I cannot take my eyes off him
this time.
His walk is hanged, low, and slung
to the angle of the cane he bows to
the earth. The crease of his pant
leg hints at an equally devout wife,
performing her duty to him as he
does for another. His beard cropped
and coarse, frosted wires that would
tremble at each step were they
not so intertwined. Each fragile
stride moves him barely at all; he
knows his age. It is a sincere walk
and, in its existence, not wanting
of anything. This morning ritual
is, as simply as anything else is. To
him, it is ordained, a duty he only
realizes, with eye for the recognition
of one, and that is enough. He
seems to keep time away from him,
and moves with rhythms set to the
moon, delegating the night’s menace
to some hour when the sun is set
high in the vault.
I come up behind him, but slow
my walk to nearly a standstill.
I fear proximity, as if my youth
will shift the air and impolitely
impart a breath of wind to his
regal countenance. How does one
interact with such a man without
doing so? In a way I fear him, and
so deify him. With the luxury of
distance and unknowing, I make
him what I wish him to be, and
nothing less. I don’t want to know
how he raised his children; I will say
he did so righteously, and without
bias. I won’t ask how he treats his
wife; I will hope that she knew
more than the kitchen, the laundry,
the bedroom. I won’t fear the clasp
of his mind; I will hope that he has
opened it. And I won’t question his
theology; I will believe, because he
believes, and because there’s still a
part of me that wants to.
It is cold now and the rain does not
stop him.
T h e
W o r d
I s t a n -
b u l

4. THE GUIDE ISTANBUL 20
xxxxxxxx ARTS&CULTURE
In Passing
Jonathan Day
Is that the face of man? Yes, man.
Not mankind. Man. Pacing the icy,
snow-specked January streets as
the wailing Mosques protrude like
sentient totems above the brick-
mound jungle, instructing, spying,
reminding. Can it be the visage
of my biological kin, hard as the
uneven stone it stomps across, just
as laden with cracks, whose eyes
like an unshaken snowglobe stare
emptily, always surprised, perturbed
that the world given to him and
made for him could be so alien, so
antagonistic.
I saw him for but a few seconds.
I passed him on my way to work,
and were it not for a short set of
expressions, would most likely not
have acknowledged him at all. As I
briskly strode down the pavement,
I caught up to a woman in front of
me, walking the same way, but more
slowly. I could not overtake her, so
I decided to walk in the road until
I got past. It was at this point that I
encountered the man, coming the
other way.
The look on his face was a story. A
tired one, one told so many times
over and yet now incongruous, out
of favour, and so it was destined
to be pecked out of the features of
his face again and again, the cracks
cutting deeper, the canyons of his
eyes hollowing closer to his brain,
his vacant frown becoming more
defined, more defiant. From out
his sunken sockets and joyless face
came this message: “I am out of
place, I feel out of place, but it is not
me who must adjust to the world, it
is the world that must adjust to me.
This is not because I am capable of
City of drunken
tongues
Joshua Allen
In Turkish, the Boğaz that flows
through Istanbul, that binds and
separates the continents, means
‘throat’.
That’s why my friend, when she had a
cold, said, “My Bosphorus is hurting.”
I wonder sometimes what Istanbul’s
been smoking – but it’s not a child, it
doesn’t need my advice.
This macrocosmic microcosm has
piled the peoples of the world on the
brim of its old hat. It knows better
than any of us.
That doesn’t mean it’s wise – sagacity
change and yet stubbornly refuse
it, though I am stubborn. This
is because I do not understand
how I can change. I simply do not
understand. The world has left me
behind, or I have failed to keep
up with it, and now I am stranded
in a barren past wedged into a
hostile present - dead ground
leading to a dead end.”
Yet there he was, by all accounts
alive and coming towards me. As
he got closer, I looked pointedly
at him to make sure we weren’t
going to walk into each other.
It was at this point that I went
to catch his eye, only neither
of them were looking in my
direction. They were trained on
the woman I had just passed.
His eyes widened and his mouth
opened slightly; the story had
revealed a twist. I dodged to the
right, my eyes now trained on his.
He could not fathom the woman,
and because he could not do so,
neither could he look away. She
was unknown to him. A woman
walking alone, confidently,
dressed in clothes that did not
deny her body its shape, with
her head held at an angle that
asserted she was prepared to
meet the world face to face, eye
to eye, and through her own eyes,
her viewpoint not legitimised by
another.
is not, as they say, a function of
age; that doesn’t mean it’s kind
– the generous cities are dust in
its cement; that doesn’t mean it
cares a damn about your ant-like
scurrying. Do you?
Your love for this city must be
like Leyla and Mecnun: give
everything, expect nothing but
mad decline.
If the spilled-blood sun of
Sisyphus is too slippery for you,
don’t pick it up. The day will not
return in any case.
Here you will see riddles in the
stray dogs’ fur and the charcoal-
bearded man in raincoat on
Taksim Square will mumble
more sense to strangers than you
dream of.
The scene seemed to divide briefly,
as time for the man and myself
slowed while the woman continued
on at her chosen pace. In this lapse,
with I watching the man and he
watching the woman, I saw his story
reaching for an ending.
There wasn’t one. In his eyes I
watched a paradigm try and fail to
shift. It was as if the balls of his eyes
had intended to leave their sockets
and seek a new face to dwell in, but
had at the last minute realised they
knew no other face and were in any
case too afraid, and so had remained
there, protruding out, intruding
upon the space around them. I felt
them in that moment as an imprint,
just as the speckled blur of light
that mars the vision of one who has
recently stared at the sun. Unlike the
sun, however, they provided no life-
giving properties. Yet like the sun I
would wish them far away from here.
The woman out of sight now, the
man’s eyes came to their final,
original resting place, back inside
his head, uncomprehending and
snowglobe empty. Another gash
pecked from his cracked face,
furrows trenched deeper.
Is that the face of man? That stares
blankly, unashamedly, struck
and stuck, as he is overtaken by
a woman, walking calmly in the
opposite direction?
Here is the Korean priest who
shines shoes on Thursdays and
otherwise reads the Quran.
You will not find “You will not”
here.
Your friends are covered in plaster;
peel it off and shine the icons
underneath. Under the icons is a
layer of rakı and melted wax. Only
madmen can bear the taste – yet it
turns mad all who taste it.
Do not forget! You’re not sure what
to remember…
Uncertainty will be your rock, and
you will prosper in the hollows of
unknowing.
Close your eyes.

5. THE GUIDE ISTANBUL 22
INTERVIEW ARTS&CULTURE
When did you realise that
music was your calling?
At the age of six I performed as
a soloist in a school concert, and
at that very moment I knew it
was what I wanted to do. After
finishing school, I continued to
study music and later travelled
abroad to perform and learn
more about different genres of
music. About a-year-and-a-
half ago, I started working with
Mikado. Now, most of my energy
goes to the band, because we
are in a really exciting period,
but I continue to work on my own
personal project as well. At the
moment I’m developing a project
called ‘Shower Songs’ about the
importance of singing in all of
our lives – because everybody is a
singer in the shower.
Your new album features a
meditation track. Why did you
want to include this holistic
element in the album?
We wanted the meditation track
to be a kind of transition - a
preparation for another space.
We use the track to meditate,
and we hope it will also relax
our listeners. The purpose of the
project was also to release and
express ourselves and put love
out into the universe. As a band
we all care about taking our
time and connecting to our inner
selves. We always aim to create a
harmonious space for ourselves
when we play music together,
both in our rehearsal space and
at our concerts, and we wanted
to put that energy into the album.
Because we begin and end the
album with the mediation track,
it creates a sense of transition
– a kind of cyclical synergy. The
meditation track is the first song
of the album, and it’s called ‘First
Kiss With Crows’. It’s about six
minutes long and is composed
of special frequencies designed
to relax the mind and bring
the brain to an Alpha state. At
our concerts we perform the
meditation track first, which
helps to prepare the audience,
and the band, and get everyone
into the same frequency as
each other. The song creates
a special ambience, changing
and evolving every time we
perform it.
Is meditation important in
your daily life?
I meditate regularly. You
can always find a way to get
yourself into a meditative state
in normal, everyday activities.
While it can be difficult to feel
harmonious living in big cities,
it can also be an advantage to
just observe your surroundings
and absorb everything and
get in tune with it. Sometimes
when I’m in a crowded space
on the metro or something, I
just close my eyes and breathe
and come back to my inner self.
I also regularly meditate before
a concert. I just sit still, breathe
and visualise.
Do you see a connection
between music and spiritual
practices?
For me, music is a way of
expressing myself. It’s a way
to connect with my craft and
bring internalised thoughts
and emotions to the surface.
It is emotional, spiritual, and
physical. Everybody needs
to have a voice for his or her
experience. Our bodies need
to vibrate and create sound.
I am really into chanting,
for example, which is used
throughout spiritual practices in
Eastern cultures, where music is
integral to spiritual rituals and is
considered as the fifth element.
Singing for me is not just about
creating nice sounds; it is a
way for me to explore my own
voice, my own unique vibration.
I believe music helps us to clean
out the deepest areas within
ourselves and visualise our inner
journey. For me, making music
is the best meditation and the
best self expression there is. Like
with any meditation, correct,
conscious breathing is essential
for singing. So, I perceive many
parallels between singing and
meditation.
Do you believe music changes
our experience of life?
Yes. The best way for me to
experience music is through
performance. When I’m
performing to an audience I
feel myself switch to that very
correct, central energy. I believe
that when we are singing, we
are also visualising. When I’m
singing and I feel connected to
the band and the audience, I
begin to visualise and to colour
in my own conscious experience.
I have no concept of time when
I’m on stage. I am at once totally
present and totally outside of
time. Music has the power to
change your brain activity, your
perception, your resonance, your
way of thinking. It can change
everything about a person.
You can listen to Mikado’s
album teaser on their YouTube
channel: www.youtube.com/user/
MikadoBandOfficial
Or visit their SoundCloud:
www.soundcloud.com/
mikadoofficial
Turkish singer-
songwriter İlay
Bal uses music
as a medium for
nourishing mind,
body, and soul.
Her band Mikado’s
new album If You
Pull fuses smooth
jazz vocals with
hypnotic beats
and also features
a simultaneously
soothing and
invigorating
meditation track.
Music for
the Soul
An Interview with
‹lay Bal
By Naela Rose
I used to
want to be
an astronaut,
but I changed
my mind after
finding a more
direct route to
space through
music.

6. THE GUIDE ISTANBUL 24
MUSIC ARTS&CULTURE
Besides your own, of course,
what music would you consider
as the soundtrack to your
life? Is there any particular
musical moment that caused a
revelation or acted as a catalyst
for change?
There have been so many magical
moments like that, it’s hard to
pick one, because every moment
is unique and special. A few
years ago, we played a special
show with Ludovico Einaudi on
the beach in Italy. We started
the show around 4.30 in the
morning while it was still dark.
People were coming with their
blankets, laying down on the
beach, and quietly listening
to the concert. Then around
half six, the most amazing
sunrise started over the sea.
With the first lights of the sun,
around 6,000 people became
mesmerized with what was
happening in that magical
moment, including us. It was
so surreal, it felt like it was a
scene from a big movie, and we
were all actors in it. We played
the first and second song from
Ludovico’s ‘Divenire’ album. It
was really magical.
Do you use music to paint an
image or visual art to create
a sound? Is there one that
comes before the other for
you? Or do they feed each
other equally?
As you said so beautifully, in fact
that is exactly the case, I really
do (or at least try to) use music
to paint and colors to create
sound and they feed each other
with their own energy.
Do you express different feelings
through different media?
Well, maybe I express different
aspects of different emotions
with different media. We have
been given five senses. So in fact
our experience with life is more
like a multimedia project. It is
important to create a dialogue
between them; really unique
expressions come from unusual
collaborations between different
media and emotions.
Can you explain a little about
Rumi - what his teachings mean
to you and how it has influenced
your work?
Rumi has had a magical influence
on my life for more than 30 years.
It is not intellectual, it is not
religious, it is not admiration,
I think it is “pure joy and love.”
His teachings are timeless. You
can take and apply them to any
aspect of life, in any period of
your life, and you will always find
that they will resonate with you.
I think his true understanding
that “we are not separate, we are
not single entities but part of one
unbelievable life form in which
everything is connected with
everything” is one of the most
profound and positive outlooks on
what life is about, despite the fact
he said it all those 800 years ago.
It really makes my heart beat. I am
who I am mostly because of Rumi.
The rest of the things, including
my artworks, are just a simple
reflection of this.
And is there a quote of his that
you’d like to share with our
readers?
“What you seek is seeking you,”
and “You are whatever you are
looking for” would be just the first
two I felt like sharing.
How would you describe the
ney to someone who has never
heard it before?
Echoes of a breath wandering
around a tower of mystery.
Talking Deep
With Mercan Dede
By Rhiannon J Davies
Mercan Dede is known
for his mesmerizing
performances, in which
he seamlessly blends
aspects of traditional and
contemporary, Eastern
and Western music.
He’s collaborated with
some of the world’s best
musicians and is revered
in the world music genre.
Besides his goosebumps-
inducing music, he’s also
an accomplished artist
and photographer who
works in a variety of
media to create colorful,
individual works. We had
the chance to put a few
questions to him ahead
of his Cappadox festival
performance.
Bu alana kısacık
bir spot veya quote
gibi birsey eklemek
gerekiyor

7. THE GUIDE ISTANBUL 26
MUSIC ARTS&CULTURE
Do you think living as an expat
in a country so far from where
you were born has an influence
on your work? Do you think that
kind of separation can increase
creativity?
I totally think so, and in my own
experience I absolutely believe
so. Rumi talks about this in his
book the ‘Mesnevi’, and the whole
story of the ney starts with its
separation from its own roots. As
you know, the ney is just a piece
of bamboo. It is a plant, and when
they cut it, that is the beginning
of its separation and the desire
to reunited. This is our story, and
what pretty much happens to us.
The moment we are born, we are
separated and for the rest of our
lives, knowingly or unknowingly,
we try to reunite.
When I moved to Canada, I started
to see my own culture, country,
self, from a more distant, but more
objective way. Rediscovering life
from another angle is like being
reincarnated into a new form of life
while you are still alive in this life. It
is pure magic. And of course not for
everyone!
You seem to have a skill for
finding and nurturing young
talent. What is it that you
look for? And what advice
would you give to young
musicians?
Oh, I am not an advising type
of guy. If I was forced to give
one, it would probably be,
“Don’t listen to anyone’s advice,
and continue to listen to your
own heart.”
Without giving too much
away, what can we expect
from your performance with
Hugh Marsh and Mino Cinélu
at Cappadox festival?
Oh dear friend, I have no
idea, and I don’t want to have
any! This is the truth. For me,
playing music is a form of
meditation (canceling your
mind program which is run
by your ego), so that you can
experience life without any
judgment. Both of them are
great musicians, and Hugh
is one of the most magical
musicians I’ve ever worked
with, and an extraordinary
human being who I feel
honored to know. So let’s allow
the universe to manifest itself in
the most sincere and honest way.
On Istanbul
Like your music, Istanbul has
found its way into the heart
of many because of its East-
meet-West nature. What do
you think it is that makes this
fusion so appealing?
I think this fusion makes people
experience something that they
cannot exactly name or express
with words. I believe both Istanbul
and the magic of our music comes
not from bringing East and West
together but by bringing up and
down together, like the sky and
the earth. I think with ‘up’ we are
talking about the human soul, and
being aware that there is more to
life than just material values and
objects. ‘Down’ is the Earth, and
being grounded, with the powerful
energy of being alive as a physical
entity. Where sky and earth meet
and create the center is your heart.
That is the meeting point, not East
or West, they don’t exist in the first
place, they are just names.
For you, what is the sound of
Istanbul?
In this moment the sound of
Istanbul for me is an “indigo blue
human river.”
Ending on that poetic note, we
hope that this interview has
inspired you to attend a Mercan
Dede concert for yourself, if you
haven’t before. You can see the
Mercan Dede Ensemble featuring
Mino Cinelu and Hugh Marsh
perform at Cappadox Festival on
May 16 in the incredible location of
Uçhisar castle, Cappadocia. Tickets
available from www.biletix.com.