Korea Gallery Show in New York City

So proud of Greg for curating this show and so proud of the friends - Jennifer, Tomas and Brian - who came together and created the show. You can see it until May 1st at the Korean Consulate's Gallery, during the week from 10AM until 5PM. It's worth it!

Blind Ambition

The other day, I saw a blind man go down the escalators on 53rd and Lexington stop. He was going down the steps himself, to get downstairs faster! Only in New York!!

I am heartbroken Istanbul...

You've changed Istanbul. I don't recognize you anymore. You had this majestic, all encompassing beauty. The beat of your drum was so lively. I loved your chaotic beauty, principled hills, evergreen trees. Your people thought I was one. They considered me the same. I considered them the same. Did we sound different? Did we look different? Not even... What is this now - store signs saying I am not allowed to enter? Since when did we grow so apart that we do not recognize each other? Do you hate me so?

Istanbul, I am heartbroken. Why would you assume I am more loyal to the Israeli consulate than to the star and the crescent? And if I am a foreigner in my own city, then where is your so famed hospitality? Aren't you tired of hosting for the past 500 years? Isn't it obvious these passengers have settled? They don't have another city. They don't know another country.

I did erase my name on the doorbell Istanbul. Because I am scared that someone will find me and harm me. But I can't erase my past, Istanbul. And I can't let go Istanbul.

My Heart is Beating Fast! History in the Making!

I have never seen this country so involved in politics. I have never been in America when so much was at stake. I can't vote, as I am not an American citizen yet. I wish I could. I would have voted for Obama with my mind and my heart. I believe he has the integrity, the will and the intellect to pull this country together and to make peace with the world.

I saw people get teary today as they told how they voted. New York is an obvious blue state. They were moved. They knew they were making history for people here and abroad - wherever America touches.

Grocery Loyalty

I must admit, I was curious about the Gourmet Fresh store opening up on my end of Carroll Gardens. I was pretty happy with Sue's little shop where I bought veggies and the Italian brothers' shop where I got my meat and everything else. I occasionally ventured into Caputo's to get olive bread, parma proscuitto, home made pasta, sauce, and anything else that caught my eye until it was my turn to pay. So, the addition of Gourmet Fresh to my food chain seemed like a notch up on my life quality.

I went in there the first day to admire the new shelves and small but convenient shopping carts, the red of all red tomatoes and looked for my favorite olive oil. Then I recognized the crew from the crummy Key Food store which was replaced by the CVS a couple years ago. Everything was the same, but with new make up and dress. Yes, everything was available and nicely organized. I thought 'Poor Sue,' 'Poor Bro's' ...what would they do now?

I noticed the first write up in a blog, called A Brooklyn Life. And today, NY Times did a story on the situation, pointing to the gentrification of the area.

I don't like the quote they picked from the GF shopper though, who was saying that she appreciates finding it all in one place. Yes, sometimes we're pressed for time and need to buy and go but these 3 stores are smack next to each other. So, let's just pretend it's one long stretch of options.

I'll tell you what - I am sticking with Sue and the Italian store. When I was getting my apartment painted and nearly lost my mind over the ever extending schedule, Sue and her family helped me out by ushering the keys when I was at work. I can trust them with my apartment! Every time I go in to the Italian store, Michael - one of the brothers - practices his few Turkish words with me and asks me about my parents. (And my parents really ask about them over the phone.) And when I see Al in the morning, rushing to open his store, he takes a moment to greet me and wish me a good morning.

If I want the generic upper-middle class experience, I'll go to GF. But I do appreciate the familiar feeling of Sue's store and the authentic nature of the Italian store. That's why I like living in this neighborhood.

When Barnes and Noble opened up on Court Street, by Atlantic Avenue, a lot of Cobble Hill residents supported the local book store and tried to shop from there as much as possible. I hope Carroll Gardeners do the same, so we don't lose our flavor - literally!

News in Russia

From the minute I stepped into the hotel lobby in Moscow, I felt at home. The young receptionist with the swanky hair style asked if I had a Turkish Airlines frequent flyer card after seeing my passport. I said 'Why yes,' and handed it over. (Note to self: Positives about cluttered purses include ability to access any random airline card on call.) I was to get points thanks to an agreement between SwissOtel and Turkish Airlines. Very well. Kaching, kaching...

Another young man, with an accent I recognized from my subway line in Brooklyn, helped carry my luggage to my room. I plunked the large green Samsonite on the couch. This rugged bag had carried me back and forth between Pennsylvania and Istanbul during my student years. To fight my jetlag, I turned on the TV. I started zapping and gazing down the cardboard left by my bed side, listing available channels.

To my welcomed surprise, there were four Turkish channels listed. It dawned on me that the surge of Turkish businessmen carrying out deals in Moscow had made the hotel include these channels as a gesture to its guests. And we were so close to Istanbul - by American geography standards - that it may have been just the local cable package.

For the next four days, I lived in a small piece of my homeland within a vast foreign city. Every time I stepped back into my room to grab a notebook, to change clothes, to rest, I turned on the TV and got stunned, horrified and cried. Channel after channel showed the news about the 17 Turkish soldiers ambushed on the Eastern border, their funerals and people beating their chests in an outcry about the ongoing problem of terrorism. The news programs were interspersed between comedy series with sub-titles. The King of Queens was not enough to distract me from the documentary on NTV, where past terrorism victims were being interviewed.

Outside was the impressive Kremlin buildings and Red Square with its dream-like captivity. The conference hall was the most elegant I had seen. The event organizers buzzed around, being helpful, keeping cheery, friendly faces, hosting the speakers with the utmost generosity. Inside, my people were hurting, mourning and bracing each other with more fear than hope.

Bar Fight Suggests It's Time To Go To Bed

I had not seen my friend Jay in months. Consumed with the guilt of not staying in touch, I dragged G out to Jay's pseudo post birthday get together. I had traded my flip flops for uncomfortable but flashy heels - so our commute was problematic. Especially when it came to climbing the stairs to the roof. But we made it! There we were standing on the edge of a roof covered in water, wine sipping French people who replied in French when we spoke in English and some people in bathing suits, who apparently had gotten the memo about the hot tubs. Jay greeted us warmly. Unable to make new friends, we left in half an hour.

We took a fast cab to Brooklyn and ended up at PJ Hanley's - the friendly, naighboughood bahr. I pulled the straps of my shoes down and relaxed with a tall glass of Stella. G dug into the jalapenos in the nachos mix, saying 'I know I am going to get nightmares, but I do not care." Conversations carried across closely situated tables. Everybody was loud and merry. I heard college stories from the table on the right and almost fell into the gossip story on my left 'He didn't want a girlfriend? How come?'

We asked for the check and G gave the waiter his bank debit card. Within a minute of this perfectly normal bar behavior, another perfectly normal bar event broke out: A fight! Some rugby player pushed another. Someone broke a glass. Another lifted a plastic chair. In the middle of it all stood our waiter, pretending to be a bouncer with his flimsy chest. Of course, he got punched. The half drunk crowd cheered the punchers as they jumped out of the bar's garden wall and chased some guy down the street 'to get him before he gets far."

As smart people sitting in a bar would do, we just stared and watched the whole thing unfold, wondering if the bank card was ever going to come back. After some in-depth searching behind the bar's dark corners, the little Citi card emerged. We left, convincing ourselves that we had fun and wondering what the people on the roof were doing.

The Last Beach Weekend - As Told by G

This week, I have a guest writer. And those are not typos, it's his style :-P)

Mimi and i were going to the beach at robert moses state park,due to labor day traffic,we were told it be a short cab ride and a ferry would be faster.
so we did so and enjoyed a few hours on the beach.we decided we would take the bus back however, and figured we would walk what we thought would not be far to where the bus picks us up.
we walked for quite a bit, and as most people drove, few knew where the bus was. we saw a police man and he said past the tower.

it seems the tower was a good mile away, we walked in the heat,without food or water.although i appreciate the Thoreau like eruptive experience of nature, i started to see how moses must have felt.
soon i started to hallucinate my legs heavy, throat parched. i though of eating Mimi, as i didn't know if i'd ever see civilization again. then i saw some crabs scurrying along.

we finally made it after a brief argument of the fastest exit to the bus.i was exhausted yet happy to have fully discovered myself amongst the wild.