julz 10th- Anders

In Istanbul:

"I just went to the Princess islands and spent the day on the beach, it was beautiful and the swimming was good," said an iranian-american we met at our istanbul guesthouse. I had talked to him, among other subjects, of the iranian election scandal currently occurring. Navid was his name, he told us how to get to the islands but the directions involved turkish names that we couldn't apply to turkish lettering from sound. Later the manager of the guesthouse, another friend, wrote the directions down for us and the next day we set out for the islands after a typical turkish breakfast of bread, cucumber, tomato, a bland feta like cheese, yogurt and olives...oh ya, and turkish tea: very strong tea made in a tea pot that is placed on another pot that just holds hot water- you fill the tea cup half way with the deep red-brown tea and finish filling the cup with hot water, use a small tea cup and add two sugar cubes, milk is available but most abstain from it.

Shelby and I packed my backpack and went to the tram, 1.5 lira each and off we go down crowded streets. People run in front of our steel transport box like everyday risk of no thought of being caught and the tram looks like it is hitting ghosts, but no, everyone is real, just real quick. The roads are thinner in Istanbul, like they are on a diet, much like the people; we have been counting fat people, after 4 days we are at 6 and most look like tourists, also, no one is so fat that they need a wheel chair to move their fat little thick squat legs made useless after years of food not leaving their bodies, food getting stuck en route to the colon becoming fat worn like military adornments of a society that has conquered life after only 200 years so the people are now left to sit and eat, like emperors- emperor penguins.

We cross a bridge on the tram and get off at the last stop where all the ships are, we are a little late and the ferry is set to leave in 2 minutes, we look around taking steps in each direction, lost in a crowd of people who know where they are going. We walk up to a gas station to ask for direction but do not enter, instead we continue on to a dock looking for the small ferry of our transport expectations, we tread right along the water still among crowds, Shelby is walking slowly, defeated by timetables and a signless pier, i am walking faster than shelby, looking back every 20 seconds to confirm her location, i slow down to coax her into a more swift walk, "we already missed it, man," "at your pace we will miss it," i tried to stop this last comment from becoming audible and in my mind i did pull up in time, but i said it and took a breath "i am sorry baby" i walk her speed "i would rather be nice to you than catch this ferry." We walk slowly along the pier and find our ticket counter in one minute "princess islands?" i say to the man in the booth and we buy our 3 lira tickets and walk onto the large ferry as it begins to pull away from the dock, we are on of the last to board, i smile and we forgive each other for the short lived breakdown. We find one of the few seats left upstairs and sit amongst a still crowded scene of few white people, in Bellingham (our home before this trip) is a city of almost exclusively whities, this is our chance at minority living.

Two of the only seats left on the large, no-car ferry are on a bench amongst two families, we don't know their ethnicity, but if i had to guess i would say Italian from looking at their skin. Sitting on the bench with us is the elder of the group wrapped in a dress and loose cloths with a non-serious head scarf, across from her is a younger woman in her early 30's dressed in a more modern style of pants and a shirt, next to her and directly across from us is a taller man with thick eyebrows, he is with a quiet young, staring girl and a wrapped wife, silent as well, but friendly faces all around.

I thought they were all one family but we learned that they are two families, just friends. They are observing us, we are trying to not be imposing, our seat mates keep staring and talking amongst themselves, the subject is us and the language is foreign. The modern 30 something woman stares the most along with her mother and after a while she is the one to break the third wall by revealing the topic of their already known conversation, she says to shelby "you are just so beautiful," a blush and a smile overcomes Shelby as she responds with, "thank you." Our modern lady continues on about Shelby's beauty yet she uses few new words as she speaks english, but not much. Her name is Adele (Ad-duh-lay) and she becomes the conduit of conversation for this group as we all try to converse, our thick browed friend knows some english, speaking occasionally, his name is Amir.

They dwell on Shelby's beauty, Adele is beautiful herself, but in the middle eastern culture a small nose is beautiful and Shelby's nose is just that, a cute button with a bull's piercing and another metal piece placed through her right nostril, conversation moves onto these piercings and shelby's tattoo, i have a metal bar in my left ear placed through two points on the upper cartilage, this is noticed too, our families are giggling now and are a little exasperated at the thought of the piercing events occurring, i explain that it is done during the release of a deep breath.

We move on to Nationalities, we are Americans, they thought European, for some reason, even with our accents, we do not fulfill most people's mental image of Americans. We are mainly speaking to Adele, as she is the most fluent in english, and she asks us to guess their Nationality, as i said i would have guessed Italian from their skin, but i know i am wrong as shown through their soft demeanor and headscarves, we don't offer any guesses; they are Iranian.

After nation identification and before deeper conversation, a picture is painted in my head- two peoples with rulers opposed, 8 years of verbal conflict, media focus on macro, no micro, no individual voice of citizens just images of Ahmadinejad and chanting crowds praising centrifuges of enriched uranium, stage scenes, strategic releases of clips dipped into media with doll like commentators, for-profit news, singing sensationalism, companies money making without public acknowledgment of the very real effect they have, no longer just showing events, making news, the people are left behind the scenes and here we are Americans and Iranians finally face to face without a Bush or an Ahmadinejad to skew the scene, we see each other and wonder- what is in your head? Adele begins the inquiry "have you heard of what is going on in Iran, what do you think?" "yes," we say "we know, we think it is too bad." Adele- "we do not like Ahmadinejad," her head wrapped warm faced mother waves a green rag, she had it ready to show her personal politics at any moment "We support Mousavi," we smile and i lean in close as Adele did to denounce her "elected" leader, "we do not like Bush, we like Obama."

After this moment of political declaration we have a broken, simple worded english conversation about Iranian-American politics, Adele conveys words around the group and i find out that Iran and USA are more similar that some would want you to think. In Iran many do not support Ahmadinejad, but with violent rule what is a pacifist citizen to do?, their leaders supports an agenda of the minority and acts like he is Allah/God sent and of the majority.

In Iran: religious extremism is a strategy of the powerful minority, most Iranian soldiers enlist for the money (same in the USA), politically sensitive information is hidden (as in the USA), in Iran the internet is filtered but we hear that there are ways around that and that those ways are used, in Iran most citizens have no problem with Americans, just with Bush, and they would have had a problem with McCain if elected- i told Adele that McCain supports more strict and even violent action towards Iran, she is glad Obama is a more level-headed ruler, for McCains actions would have been devastating as well as another sad chapter in the book of dying political strategies.

Amir knows little english, yet asks 'what do we know of Iran's Ayatollah?' i say we know little because the media covers him as a backdrop to Ahmadinejad, what is covered of the Ayatollah is that he is for extreme Islamic rule, this is conveyed to Amir through Adele, he nods. I learned from Navid, the friend that I quoted to start this story, that the Ayatollah is not the highest hand in the land and neither is Ahmadinejad, there is a committee that is above them both, the committee is often in agreement but breaks in opinion and action as sees fit.

We mainly talked politics in a slow progression, choosing simple sentences, only using key words, we did this for the length of the 30-40 minute ferry ride. What was revealed is that the politics of Iran and America are mostly the same: religious extremism, stolen elections, unrepresentative governments, concealing of important information, poor soldiers needing money, a citizenry that mostly has no problems with citizens of other countries, politics skewing everything for personal gain and perpetuation of power structures via fear mongering.

The 7 of us grow close and pictures are taken, first of Adele, Shelby and me with her camera, then with Shelby's camera, we invited Adele's mother to join but she kindly rejected the invitation, then the daughter of Amir is coaxed into a seat next to us, at first she is shy but after a couple of encouragements she sheds her act and scoots into shelby nesting into her side for a picture, we all smile.

We approach the Princess island and say our goodbyes, Shelby and Adele hug as Adele guides Shelby through a two cheek kissing embrace. We are all happy to have met. Shelby and I step off the boat onto our Princess of an island and rent bikes to find an isolated beach.