Blue Origin

Blue Origin's Magnificent Seven Up

As if 2025 hadn't caused enough damage to the global commonweal, we have witnessed another utterly bizarre world event. Seven starry-eyed celebrities popped up into the higher layers of the atmosphere in a Jeff Bezos Blue Origin capsule fired from his Texas launchpad to claim that they were astronauts. It was like watching a social media revamp of Monsieur Hulot's Holiday. Unfortuanately, the dialogue of the hapless seven lacked either the intelligence or self awareness to make it a parody. M. Hulot created chaos by opening the hotel door to let in a stiff breeze, it was pity that the Jeff''s Angels didn't open the capsule door to get a better view of the moon and become the first space asylum seekers.

Blue Origin is an Amazon funded space tourism project that costs at least £150,000 for the ten-minute ride to 100km above the Earth and back. About the same time as you get on the Star Wars Hyperspace ride at Eurodisney, but without the queue. The impact of Blue Origin flights on the ozone layer by the creation of Nitrous Oxide in the atmosphere and the release of water vapour in the upper atmosphere is hugely damaging to mother Earth. But Bezos is a rocket billionaire, a philistine philanthropist who is fulfilling the destructive powers of Amazon.

The Bonzo Dog Doo-dah Band sent up the space race so much better and cheaper in 1968 with their only hit single, "I'm the Urban Spaceman," on the Liberty label. They saw it as a Dadaist prank, a reference to the Apollo rocket launches. They even claimed the hit record was produced by Apollo C. Vermouth although it was produced by Paul McCartney. It was a spoof on the vacuous consumerism and space obsession in the summer of love. Even the lyrics say that the urban spaceman doesn't exist in real life. Unlike the urban spaceman, these celebrity wannabees exist, and with an elevated sense of entitlement. Letting them spaff their wealth and accelerate climate change on a glorified fairground ride is an Amazon Crime, yet another reason I am glad to have junked Amazon Prime.

Bye bye Mr Blue Sky

Morning is breaking 7 a.m.

After us two weeks of perpetual blue skies and excellent visibility, I awoke this morning to the same. I headed for an early walk on a local hill for only the third time in the last two months. It is only a 5-mile drive away, but the clouds were grumbling in from the northwest. The warm morning rays of the sun had been replaced by a nippy wind, and I was in shorts and a T-shirt. My normal 30-minute ascent took 12 minutes longer but that was 6 minutes faster than earlier in the week. On the descent, a brief hail shower passed through and prompted me to start running again.

I had not stopped on either the ascent or descent and I was feeling slightly better than I had for 7 weeks. Maybe the antibiotics prescribed by the GP for a viral infection and the steroids prescribed by the respiratory consultant after a CT scan, and various blood tests are beginning to work. Pity I have missed the good weather, including a much cherished trip to Fisherfield with John last week. 

Weather is breaking 8:30 a.m.

The National Portrait Gallery

Processional frieze in the Great Hall

After a long morning at Edinburgh University providing background material for a book on local government, and a Tapas lunch with Bill, I had the afternoon free. I took myself to the National Portrait Gallery, somewhere I had not visited since retirement and was keen to see the new exhibits. It was a revelation, defying its Victorian origins housed in its sombre Corsehill red sandstone neo-gothic building on Queen Street. The Gallery had been wonderfully renovated in 2011. The ambience on arrival, the welcome from the curators and the magical Great Hall were totally embracing. There were many visitors from around the world, it was not even Easter but Edinburgh was already buzzing as the Athens of the North.

My quest to see the new exhibits was delayed by the time required to admire the processional frieze and the colourful murals painted on the upper balcony of the Great Hall by William Hole. Such was the influence of the Scotsman Newspaper at the time the building was completed in 1889 that its proprietor, John Ritchie Findlay, was able to commission this work as well as the purpose designed Gallery to display Scottish heroes. I also spent even more time exploring the old portraits of Scottish Kings in the Reformation and Revolution Gallery and figures from the Scottish Enlightenment in the Globalisation galleries. 

Finally, I made it to the modern collection. Familiar figures came to life in paintings and photographs. A friend is writing a book on 100 Radical Scots and I had made a dozen or so suggestions to him for inclusion in the book including Sir Patrick Geddes and Tilda Swinton. They were both in the Gallery, a bust of Geddes and a frolicking painting of Swinton. I sent photos of them both to my friend and he confirmed that he had completed his biography of the radical Geddes. 

Other post-war legends, poets, musicians, sportspeople and artists were splayed across a gallery as diverse as its portraits. Amongst them, a photograph of Wai-Yin Hatton who had been the Chief Executive of Ayrshire Health Board stared out at me. She had asked to work shadow me about twenty years ago and this was reciprocated as we spent several days in each other's domains. It gave me an insight into the management culture in the Health Boards. The hospital consultants were ferocious in their bids for money and they treated primary care with a studied disdain. Wai-Yin was a formidable character and was greatly frustrated by this but the silos in the NHS were well entrenched and not easily controlled.

Mural of the Battle of Bannockburn

Poets' Pub

Sir Patrick Geddes

Tilda Swinton

Wai-Yin Hatton

The Devil's Apprentice

Cockwomble

Well, not content with providing the protection and weapons to allow Netanyahu to continue the killings in Gaza to exceed 50,000 and allowing Putin to continue the ruthless bombardment of Ukraine, Trump has now unilaterally inflicted the most crass (but beautiful) tariff policies on the world. In any edition of The Apprentice, he would have been evicted for any of these three monumental failures. It would be far better to fire him. Ideally into a perpetual orbit of the earth in one of Musk's SpaceX tin cans. 

What is particularly irksome is Trump's persistent claim that America has been "raped and pillaged" by the EU and other countries. The converse is nearer the truth. It was an American journalist, Ludwell Denny, who spoke the truth in 1930 when he said that the USA is "Too wise to govern the world, we shall merely own it." That is what they have done; American companies have built factories and employed cheap labour across the world. There are 280 American companies with factories in China alone and substantial numbers in Vietnam, Taiwan, Cambodia and the other countries that have been landed with the highest tariffs by Trump's government.  

The UK has become a Vassal State whereby America has bought out Britain.  Private equity companies have plundered the UK to take ownership of companies. In 2020, they took a revenue of $707bn from the UK, an average profit of £2500 from every UK household. HMRC have estimated that American companies underpaid tax by £5.6bn. It is time for the UK government to take back control, to weaponise our tax system and to regulate takeovers. The US government has seen the special relationship with the UK as a game of dancing with donkeys. America has become the dominant owner of almost half the FTSE shares, not to mention the ownership of the majority of premier league football clubs and many health and care providers. Trump has targeted the UK's very modest 2% Digital Services Tax on the big American tech companies to be eliminated as part of his game plan to reduce the 'rape and pillaging’ of the USA.

What Trump has done is give the UK and Europe a legitimate excuse to put an end to the plundering of their businesses. It means working more closely with Europe, which has been far more savvy in developing regulatory control of big tech and AI. It is essential to stop America from ‘merely owning the world.’ Hopefully, as the Trump game is played out, the rest of the world will be too wise to let this continue. Untrammelled private equity ownership and unregulated big tech, aided and abetted by successive American governments, have had the upper hand for too long. Trump has unwittingly paved the way to consigning his tariff policies to the dustbin of economic illiteracy. But that requires collaboration between Europe, the UK and other partners who are willing to confront the Devil's Apprentice.

Space X Control to Major Trump
Sitting in a tin can
Take your protein pills and put your helmet on
Planet Earth is Blue
And there's nothing you can do

 

Missing the Hills

Ben Ledi and the Blue Forgotten Hills

For the first time since early February, I started the day by climbing a local hill this morning. A viral infection when walking in the Lakes in February had given me chest pains and slowed me down. This was followed by feeling listless during a week in London. I decided to go to Istanbul to get some sunshine and explore the Bosphorus mega city. Again, I was feeling tired, and my limbs were aching, so I drained what was left of my stamina to haul myself around Istanbul. I returned to some glorious weather in Scotland. Normally, I would be up and out by 7:30am to climb my local micro hills on good days such as these. I could not summon up the energy and had to limit myself to the odd hour in the garden. Moreover, I was missing a few days in Fisherfield with Keith and John. Fisherfield has always been one of my favourite locations and, at this time of the year in these conditions. Wow.

This morning, the viral infection seemed to be on the wane, so I was out early on the perfect morning to climb Ben Gullipen. It is usually a sub-30-minute brisk walk once the snow and ice have departed, but today, I had already stopped five times before I was three-quarters of the way up. The man coming down was an acquaintance from Aberfoyle whom I had first met on Lime Craig on the day that Aileen had died and on several subsequent occasions. He had recently retired to the area, and I had recommended other local walks/runs, including Ben Gullipen. Billy was as friendly as ever, and we blethered for half an hour on a quite sublime April morning. We talked about running, hills, and Pete Cartwright, now a world over-70 champion, who had worked with Billy and whom I had often run with on the local trails around Aberfoyle. Today, I was only able to recommend 'This City is Ours', the Liverpool drugs crime drama on BBC to Billy. It was the only memorable event that I had enjoyed in the last few weeks.

It had taken an hour to get to the summit but the hills to the north were enticing in the blue morning light. Ben Ledi was a mere stone's throw away, and Ben Vorlich and Stuc a' Chroin were beckoning. This was my playground, my backyard that had nurtured my determination to seek the more distant adventures to all of Scotland's mountains. I watched the young lambs prancing around the summit and resolved to phone the hospital when I got home to see if I could get an earlier appointment to sort out my problem. I was able to run some of the way down, and I was pleased that my legs were still in reasonable shape. The news on the way home was of the collapse of the financial markets worldwide. Trump, what a Cockwomble.

Stuc a' Chroin and Ben Vorlich

Spring

Loch Venachar

A distant Ben Lomond

Ben Gullipen

 

Today Refreshed

Anna Foster - Today Programme

I have been a less regular listener to the Today Programme since the start of the year. It seemed to have lost its vitality and focus since the loss of Mishal Husain. Her professionalism and sharp focus had kept other presenters on the ball. Her temporary replacements, Jonny Dymond, Simon Jack and Katya Adler, had kept things ticking over, but Emma Barnett did not seem to be a team player. She is a loose cannon, unaware of her brutal style that irks interviewees, her fellow interviewers and this listener. 

Nick Robinson and Amol Rajan were spending time on other projects, including their Today Podcast, which is usually very good but it did not please Justin Webb. He had been involved on occasion but was aggrieved that it trespassed on his Americast podcast with Sarah Smith. This is hardly surprising given that world news rotates around Planet Trump.

Then, the new presenter, Anna Foster, arrived on air.  She was in Thailand on her first day, covering the Myanmar earthquake. Her easy style brought out the best in the people she interviewed; she made a seamless connection with Nick Robinson in London, and they were immediately a working team. The Today Programme was back on track. Amol had already interviewed her on the Today podcast, and they had vowed to look forward to working together. Anna will no doubt rescue Justin from his grumpiness and cope with Emma, just as she does with everyone else in her fresh and positive manner. I wouldn't bet on Emma surviving the year though.

End of the American Dream

Liberation Day or Breaking Bad

I was asked what sort of coffee I wanted. I paused before requesting a cappuccino; normally, I would order an americano. I had had it with Trump's America and been influenced by the Canadians and French, who had decided to boycott products from the USA in response to Trump's tariffs and treatment of Ukraine and Gaza. Not to mention his tryst with Putin. I would join them, singing it softly with my choice of coffee

It was an easy decision. I had given up Coca-Cola and Pepsi in 1972 because I disliked fizzy, sugary drinks. I had abandoned the Sunday Times when it was bought by News International in 1981 and refused to subscribe to Sky Television for the same reason. I have never revisited any American fast food outlet following my daughter's birthday party at a Burger King in 1987. I never bought a Ford, Vauxhall, or Tesla because they had built-in obsolescence when I was younger and are less well-made than European cars.  

I visited the USA seven times from 1979 to 2014 and loved the magnificent scenery from Yosemite to Canyonlands to the West Coast and the Black Hills of Dakota. But the American Dream was becoming a faded nightmare. I despaired at the desolation of Great American Cities, the massive Trailer Parks that surround many towns and house low earners, migrants and the excluded. They are part of the rampant inequalities that make a mockery of the American Dream. Woodie Guthrie called it right in 'This Land is Your Land' but Trump has sacrificed humanity and just wants ‘Your Land to be His Land’. 

US governments have tried to usurp democratic governments from Vietnam to Chile to Grenada to Ukraine, and Trump is making eyes at Panama, Canada, Greenland and Gaza. The beneficent policies of F.D. Roosevelt, Trueman and Eisenhower in the war years and thereafter in supporting and then rebuilding Europe have been progressively diluted in the past two decades. American companies had plundered other countries for minerals, cheap food, manufactured goods and state enterprises. These companies have bought out local businesses, and hedge funds have stripped many businesses worldwide. Meanwhile, the corporate giants foraged for defence and security contracts and poured oil into trouble spots. Their hegemony was absolute after the collapse of the USSR.

During recent discussions with friends, it became apparent that many were considering how to respond to the America First, anti-European sentiments espoused by Trump and his acolytes in government. How could we take individual action? The UK government is too timid and supine to act like Canada and challenge Trump so maybe we should take action 'for the people by the people'; Abe Lincoln said that. We have witnessed European and Canadian car buyers trashing Tesla by no longer buying them, resulting in the share price dropping 44% ($462.28 - $259.27) from  Christmas 2024 to 31 March 2025. 

Given that Trump has called Wednesday, 2 April 2025, Liberation Day. Let us use our liberty to exercise our choice of goods and services and examine whether we want to continue to support the paragons of American global enterprise. Here are some starter suggestions of American companies that would maybe kick back at Trump if we redirected our spending elsewhere. 

1. Travel: forego the United States, go to Europe, Canada, Mexico or Japan

2. Holiday Bookings: Airbnb, booking.com, TripAdvisor - use local websites and cut out the American middleman

3. Social Media: Facebook, Netflix, X, YouTube, Sky, Disney+, Discovery, Instagram, Pinterest, Linkedin - choose life instead

4. Tech Companies: IBM, Google, Microsoft, Apple, Cisco, Bloomberg - maybe this is easier said than done

5. Online retailers: Amazon, eBay, Etsy - buy local or from UK/European websites

6. Fast food and coffee: eat healthily and give up McDonald's, KFC, Burger King, Pizza Hut, Subway, Papa John's and give Starbuck a miss and Lime Bikes

7. Food and Drink: Cadbury's, Coca-Cola, Fanta, Heinz, Kellogs, Kraft, Nabisco, Pepsi - stop buying processed food and sugary drinks and steer clear of Costco 

7. Clothing: GAP, Nike, Levi's, Abercrombie and Fitch, J Crew, Ralph Lauren, Patagonia - use charity shops and buy less

8. Other shit: American Express,  ExxonMobil, Xbox, Sonos, Boeing, Jack Daniel's, and avoid the American Health Care intruders, United Health Group, and Care UK who are buying hospitals, GP practices and residential homes. There are a lot more British businesses that have been acquired and merged into American companies.

9. Cars: Ford, Tesla, Jeep - European, Japanese and Korean are better quality

10. Football teams: Arsenal. Aston Villa, Bournemouth, Chelsea, Fulham, Crystal Palace, Ipswich, Liverpool, Manchester United - Support your local team instead, although they are probably sponsored by a betting company 

If I could keep just three of these from room 101, well, Apple, Liverpool and maybe, post-Trump, the United States. Retribution begets reconciliation.

'For us, there is only the trying. The rest is not our business.' TS Eliot

The Crow Short

 25 March 2025

It would have been Aileen's birthday. I went downstairs at 6:45 a.m. to make a bowl of porridge and a coffee to have in bed as I caught up on the news and listened to a podcast. There was a strange sharp pinging noise as I descended the stairs, no hot water from the tap and when I tried the lights they were off as well. I checked the trip switches, and they were ok. I phoned Alyn next door, and she had the same problem, so I phoned SSE on 105 and explained the issues. they had already had a report and were despatching an engineer to discover the problem. They were remarkably efficient, and within minutes, a message appeared indicating that they hoped to have power back by 10 a.m.

I had a summer breakfast instead, a bowl of cereal, a banana and juice, had a shower and went to Tradstocks to see the progress on Aileen's headstone. My neighbour, Summer, came round to show me the draft of some children's books she had been writing in Mandarin and English. They looked impressive and she asked if I could look at the English in the second of the books. I had previously made suggestions for the first book. There was still no electricity but we managed to transfer the text and illustrations on our phones by WhatsApp. Something to look at later once the electricity allows me to fire up the laptop.

It was a glorious March morning with hooloovoo blue skies (check Hitch Hiker's Guide to the Galaxy). Summer was here and I had opened the doors onto the garden for the first time all year. I noticed a group of men in yellow jackets, one at the top of the wooden electricity pylon about 200 metres away in the adjacent field. I wandered down to discover if this was the problem. The SSE engineer was climbing down the pylon, and the other engineers were packing their equipment. They had rectified the fault caused by a shortage on one of the power lines. They had discovered a small branch lodged on one of the phase conductors, which had shorted the system. 

They wondered if it had possibly been dropped there by a bird. I confirmed that this was highly likely to be one of the crows or rooks that nest in the Ash trees along the nearby Boquhapple Burn. Twenty nests have been built already this year and there is still construction taking place. It is almost exactly a year ago that one of the crows came down my flue and survived. There again, Hooloovoos are super intelligent and known for their capability to manipulate matter and energy! The team of five engineers seemed pleased that they had solved the problem. The lead engineer left in haste for the village substation to switch the electricity back on for the 34 houses that had lost power. It was 10:10 a.m. Slightly later than estimated, but power outages happen for all sorts of reasons. Whether crows or Hooloovoos. 

It wasn't just power that had been reinstated; the glorious sunshine had created a warmth that had the flowers gawping, the grass growing, and the garden awaiting. A day that Aileen would have loved.

The branch was lodged in the phase conductor

Pylon framing Ben Ledi

Good Job - the SSE engineers

Aileen planted these -Birthday memories

Istanbul - The Full Bosphorus and Reflections

Entering the Black Sea

Day 4

A six-hour sail along the Bosphorus to the Black Sea was the intention. I left early and arrived at Eminonu with an hour to spare. I retraced my steps of yesterday evening into the Spice Market and found a large spice store and with no hesitation bought 4 large packets of spices and enough Turkish Delight to fill my rucksack. It would be useful for presents and as a substitute for wine if I ever get invited to dinner. It used up my Turkish lire that I should have spent on a visit to Topkapi Palace had I not objected to the discrimination of admission prices. 

The large steamer for the Bosphorus cruise left at 10:30am with only 40 or 50 passengers. Unlike the previous days, the pure blue skies were absent, and a cool breeze meant I spent quite a bit of the time reading a book in the lounge before moving to the open deck once we sailed under the second bridge and I was in new territory. The continuously built-up suburbs of Istanbul were left behind. Smaller settlements were nestled along the shore on both the Asian and European sides. Most of them had a ferry terminal but today's cruise bypassed them until the final two before the entrance to the Black Sea under the Yanuz Sultan Seim,  the third massive bridge that spans the Bosphorus. The cruise stopped at Anadolu Kavagh, an old fishing village on the Asian side, just before the third bridge. 

There was a 2-hour stopover for lunch. I immediately set out for the Yoros Kalesi (castle)twin towers that loomed over the village. A twisting road and then a steep footpath led to the summit of the hill and the fortresses that overlooked the entrance to the Bosphorus. The views were impressive, with a constant stream of tankers and other vessels passing under the bridge. There are 400 ships a day entering or leaving the Black Sea. The castle had been used by the Byzantines, Ottomans and Genoese as a base to control the entrance to the strait at its narrowest point as it enters the Black Sea. A dozen or so passengers from the cruise had also climbed to the summit before retiring to the village with more fish restaurants than houses. The village had a Turkish army base but seemed totally dependent on the daily cruise visitors. I ordered a large salad and a beer as I whiled away the hour before the boat began the journey back. The winds had increased, and the Bosphorus was choppy on the cruise back to Eminonu.

Despite the reasonably easy day, I was still suffering from sore feet and unusual tiredness. Nevertheless, I found the energy to take a fuller look at the Egyptian Bazaar and the New Mosque before exploring the streets leading back to Sultanahmet. I had a fascinating conversation with a young student from Indonesia as we both observed a long queue of older men receiving food parcels from a temporary building next to the mosque. He had flown to Istanbul at the start of a six-week holiday culminating in a visit to Mecca. 

My appetite had not been great during the visit; I had been suffering from flu-like symptoms so I resisted an evening meal, deciding that a plate of Baklava and a coffee would be sufficient for my final night in Istanbul. As on most evenings, the hotel manager questioned me on where I had been. He spoke good English and had a poor opinion of what was happening in Turkey. It imported too many goods, which were then relabelled as Turkish. He was dismissive of Turkish farming; most fruit and vegetables were now imported. Too many people had been attracted to Istanbul, seeking to make easy money from tourism and there were too many shops and restaurants competing for tourists The city had grown too big with resulting congestion, and poor upkeep of the buildings, roads and pavements. It was no surprise that the economy was in the doldrums. Although this sounded a bit cynical from someone dependent on the tourist industry, it was articulated with a cogency that gave it traction. I resisted asking him about the political shenanigans brewing in Istanbul, where President Erdogan had become unpopular as the economy tanked and the secular mayor of Istanbul was a serious candidate to become  President at the next election.

The plane departing back to Edinburgh the next day left at 2pm, but you need to be at the airport a couple of hours in advance. It takes almost 2 hours to get there. I caught a train from Kumkapi to Yenikapi, a Metro to Gayreteppe and then another Metro to the airport and arrived at 11:30am.  I was pleasantly surprised by how well the airport worked as I passed through the flight desk, passport and baggage control. It was so much quicker and well-managed than Edinburgh or Heathrow. I had been critical of the immense size and grandeur of the airport on arrival, but it seemed less of a problem on departure with well-functioning operations. It was not peak season, and Turkish Airlines, the main operator, had set high standards. The gates were close to the large departure lounges, which had good seating, numerous eateries and 'duty-free' outlets in the cavernous halls of the airport. 

We arrived on time in Edinburgh but it took 25 minutes to get through passport control which was totally understaffed. My luggage had done several laps of the carousel and only after reporting it lost did I realise that I had failed to recognise it in the sea of black suitcases. As usual, the much-vaunted trams were running empty, and the buses that ran to many destinations had healthy queues.

On the journey home, I reflected that I had waited 50 years to get to Istanbul, now the most visited city in the world. It had quenched my curiosity and there were many aspects that I really enjoyed - a world heritage site, its mosques and history, the ferries on the Bosphorus, the variety of busy townships on both the Asian and European sides of the Bosphorus, the blue skies that greeted me on most days and the bustle of a truly international city. With a population of 15 million, it would be the largest city in Europe, but half of it is in Asia. Turkey would be the largest country in Europe with 86 million people if it were not mainly in Asia. Turkey would like to be in the EU, and who knows what will happen as the world tries to settle Ukraine's future peace and security as Trump's America slips into isolation and loses the respect and trust of the free world.

Tram stop at Eminonu

The Egyptian (Spice) Market

The surrounding streets of the Spice Market

Midway along the Bosphorus

\

The third Bridge at the entrance to the Black Sea

Yoros Castle

Looking back down the Bosphorus from Yorus Castle

The Black Sea from Yorus Castle

Seafront properties near Rumeli Kavagi

 

Istanbul Airport - voted best in the world

Istanbul Modern Museum, Galatasaray and Egyptian Market

Bosphorus Days

By the third day, I was anxious to relax a little so I headed for the Istanbul Modern Museum at Karakoy. The building is on the shores of the Bosphorus below Galatasary, the affluent and bohemian sector of the city wedged between the Golden Horn and the Bosphorus. It was a good choice, the tram took me to the door and I was more or less the first to enter. The large three-story building designed by Renzo Piano accentuated the x-axis, unlike the Shard. It looked out over the Bosphorus and was a berthing place for cruise ships. 

The first-floor exhibition spaces were given over to two exhibitions. The first was by a Japanese artist, Chiharu Shiota, who had installed the entire space with what looked like a red spider's web which you could tunnel your way around, abandoned suitcases are randomly scattered betwixt the tunnels and are meant to provide memories of travelling 'between worlds'. I was staggered at the work involved in the installation and surprised when one of the curators told me that kilometres of carefully knotted red yarn had been erected in two weeks. It was a three-dimensional yarn bombing that you could sashay through in warped time and space.

Next up was a wonderful exhibition of 125 photographs by Turkish Photographer Izzet Keribar. They covered Istanbul from the 1950s to the 1980s and also a staggering collection of photographs from his world travels. Several of these brought back strong memories of locations  in India, Namibia, Cambodia, and Vietnam that Aileen and I had visited. There was also a superb photograph of the Lofoten Islands in Norway, a place Aileen always wanted to visit. We had planned a trip there just before COVID struck, an evocative non memory.

On the next floor was a selection of permanent exhibits of Turkish modern art installations called Floating Islands. They included large canvases, videos and spaces to 'turn off your mind, relax and float downstream'. (see video) After this, I climbed the stairs to the rooftop space with a shallow pond crowded with birds that gave a fine viewpoint over the Bosphorus and the nearby Nusretiye Mosque. Quite a few students were enjoying themselves and beyond the roof pond, the buildings clawed their way up the hill to Galatasaray.  After a coffee and cake in the museum cafe, my compulsive inclination to climb hills kicked in and I began the lung-bursting ascent towards Istiklal Caddesi, the principal shopping street in Galatasaray and Istanbul.

As I reached Istikal Cad, I entered a stream of happy shoppers on a pedestrianised street that was definitely European, even Marks and Spencer and Decathlon were present. The only interruption to the swarms of shoppers were old tramcars that dinged and donged down the street every 10 minutes. I headed uphill towards Taksim Square where the new Taksim Mosque, Republic Monument and cavernous underground Metro Station are the attractions perched on the periphery of the massive public square. I was asked to take some photos of a young family from Iran. They were enthralled by Istanbul and they had a global perspective, humanity and intelligence that reprised my respect for Iranian people first inspired by an Iranian colleague when at University.

I descended into the brutal concrete bowels of Galatasaray, Taksim Metro station, and hopped down to the next stop, Shishane. It overlooked the Golden Horn and the streets provided a route to the waterfront and the Galata Bridge. Dozens of fishermen were dangling their lines into the Halic estuary once renowned for sparkling with silver fish. Today the sea has been polluted by years of diesel vessels but still provides buckets of small fish. The next objective was a long trip on the Bosphorus to the entrance of the Black Sea. My timing was bad and there was only the short trip available which I had already done by riding the ferries on Day 1. I jumped on the next ferry to Uskadar in Asia instead, a repeat excursion but the glorious weather, seabirds and a pizza in a piazza made the trip worthwhile.  I should probably have taken a ferry up the Golden Horn instead.

I arrived back at 5pm and visited the New Mosque before sauntering through the Egyptian (Spice) Bazaar. Like the Grand Bazaar, it was bustling with visitors. Each shop seemed to post a couple of well-fed, grey-stubbled men who attempted to entice you to sample the delights of their store. I remembered the advice from the video Markets of Britain, "keep walking, keep walking". I did, to the tram and back to the hotel. I collected a beer and some food at a local store for an evening snack in the hotel. After another long day with 25,000 steps and the invigoration of museums, mosques, ferries and bazaars, I could not be bothered running the gauntlet of the restaurant greeters.

Istanbul in 1950s

Ferries in Fifties

A collection of Izzet Keriber's photos from the 1950s

Izzet Keriber - Turkish Landscape

Izzet Kerriber - Roofscape

Keriber - Thai Girl

Keriber - Early Morning at Lofoten Islands - for Aileen

Galata Tower from the roof of Istanbul Modern

Nusretiye Mosque from Museum

Mosquescape across Bosporus

Istikial Cad and Tram

Republic Monument, Taksim Square

Taksim Square

Fishing from the Galata Bridge

New Mosque, Eminonu

  Tomorrow Never Knows