It took some time to gather my thoughts and pluck the courage to pack my bags and throw my life into low-level turmoil yet again, to move to a city that seems forever under my skin. There are certain things about Dubai that I miss now, and that I’ll possibly miss for a long time to come. Sunshine is currently at the top of that list. And yet, even waking up each morning to an overcast sky has done nothing to dampen my love for this place. I’m back on track.

But as cold and uninviting as the climate is now, I’m happy. Even if I rise before six each morning to shave, shower and shampoo before being collected in the school service bus just after seven. Returning to Istanbul and to teaching has been the wisest choice I’ve made in a number if years. I love being in the classroom. And it’s been a very soft landing.

I’m now teaching English to the youngest students I’ve yet taught. At first I felt apprehensive about attempting Grade 5. The kids, well, they seemed so very young. Classroom management has never been a strong point with me: it’s like children quickly sense that I’m a pushover, and naturally they take full advantage immediately.

However, my class of little ones is better than I hoped for. I assume I’d spend chunks of each lesson trying to keep control of boundless energy, trying desperately to curtail naughty behaviour, incesssant chatting and general, nonsensical foolishness to which younger students are prone.

But no. They’re almost a teacher’s dream. To be sure, I’ve entered the classroom with a positive attitude and my own limitless energy. It’s easier to work when you are receive a daily reward. My class is interesting and interested. There are as many distinct personalities are there are students. And I like them because they are children. No cynicism, no sarcasm and they are a long way from being world-weary adolescents. They want to learn. They want to have fun. They smile easily, laugh loudly, and they definitely love participating in English class with Mr James.

Soon enough I’ll need to make a deicsion about the coming academic year. To remain in the Elementary School, where I’m surprisingly happy, or to make the move to the High School, where some of of my earlier students must be groaning at the thought of having me yet again in their final year.

But that’s still a few months away. For the moment, I couldn’t be more satisfied.

A great place to eat in a neighbourhood busy transforming itself...

These guys have done their homework. And I’d like to thank them for that.

First, Big Chefs has an excellent, well thought-out and easily navigable website. It’s still kinda rare to encounter a Turkish restaurant site that is easy-to-use and get around, that is visually pleasing and not burdened with an oversupply of graphic, Flash and other unnecessary paraphernalia of the electronic variety. All information is at hand and they understand three mouse clicks should be the maximum required to find what you are looking for.

Secondly, the Sishane neighbourhood has been undergoing a transformation since the metro station opened a couple of years back. The area leading from the dank, damp Pera Palas Hotel is now lined with a bunch of new cafes and restaurants, none of which I have yet managed to visit.

Anyway, the restaurant was chosen by a friend who was clearly impressed with both Big Chefs’ breezy, light spaciousness and a menu that offers a wide choice without suffering from the Istanbul’s endemic kebabism. What I really liked? Fish. Istanbul may have a ton of fish restaurants but most of them always seem to be overpriced and force you to deal with traffic on the Bosphorus. Secondly, the choice of salads was decent, and also, the steak (though I didn’t eat it), was clearly a fine cut of meat.

I love to see a business model in Turkey that has some major thought behind it, especially now that the city, and soon the entire country becomes saturated with House Cafes. This is not a criticism (House Cafe is great, if a little overpriced), but evidently others have worked out that it pays to put a serious amount of workshopping into a business plan before venturing ou into Istanbul’s already numerous restauration game.

The interior is perfect for leaving behind the city’s grey, overcast weather. Lots of wood and brick and cleverly stacked wine that manages to be original without sinking into gastropub territory. I love the spaciousness truly rare in this part of town.

And as I always do… I checked the English menu. Not a single error. Didn’t feel like a translation at all, but perhaps that is owed partly to the fact that the restaurant offers little that is peculiar to Turkish cusine and more caters to a wide tastes. When you don’t have to translate the local dishes you’re off to a better start. Nothing stands out as outlandishly original, but what they do is good.

I’m a sucker for a user-friendly website, and a clear, self-explanatory menu. And yep, my seabass salad was exactly what I wanted. The only thing that irked me was the selection of hamburgers – this place doesn’t need them on the menu. Though the fact Chefs offers more than Efes for those after beer makes up for the inclusion.

Get yourself there.

Big Chefs Cafe & Brasserie

Tunel, Istanbul

+90 212 251 7180

www.bigchefs.com.tr

The sun rises over the Bosphorus

Anyway, it’s a beautiful day and I intend to get the most out of it.

[ ... ]

Just returned from my run. Macka Park is full of the rare Istanbullites who enjoy exercise. Lots of middle-aged women with mongrel-looking dogs, the former languidly tossing a ball into something that would once resembled a shrub, the canines looking about as interested in fetching the ball as the shrub looks at being accosted yet again by some filthy animal.

Along with the women in large sunglasses and ugly tracksuits are an assortment of Istanbul’s youth, forever clad in black and smoking like it’s their sole intake of nutrition for the week. Wherever you go in Istanbul, there’s always a group of lads in their early twenties, dressed like hoods, unkempt faces, lurking about no where in particular. They guffaw in unison at me as I pass in my jogging shorts. Other than the pointless groups of hoods, there’s the usual sad, married homosexual looking forlorn, undoubtedly intending to cruise about in the park for as long as required, or generally until the sun begins to sink.

Above at one of the park’s entrances stand a couple of security guards that look about as useless as a church in Riyadh. They follow me and my glamorous jogging outfit with shifty little eyes, but hey, I know who looks the most trustworthy out of us – and it’s not them.

After three laps about the park I head back across Besiktas Stadium and up the slight ramp that leads to my apartment. Time for breakfast.

Istanbul is how I remember it and so, with a few months of bumbling my way through the language, I should be a fully functioning member of Turkish society. I’ve already started the new job, and despite the filthy wind that bites at my face each morning as I walk to meet the driver, I’m not having too many difficulties rising at 6am to meet the driver who shuttles me to and from the neighbourhood where I teach.

My photography may be rubbish but the view is still spectacular

I’m happy to be home.

Can be a little offensive...

Few comdedians make me laugh as much as this guy. He’s about as honest as it gets. Sure to offend. He sees through all the bluff, pretence and smoke-and-mirror of human existence. And he’s vulnerable. Comedians are gifted with an ability to show us as we really are, a very imperfect species that acts at most times in a deeply worrying, illogical manner. I very much doubt a true comic possesses a stable or content state of mind, but hey, Jim keeps a smile on my face.

Hanging at home in Dubai Marina

The first day of the working week is over and I’m chilling on the balcony at home, reading a novel and contemplating life. Everything’s about to change as I soon say farewell to Dubai and head to older, better known shores.

I’m not sure how much I’m going to miss this place, if at all. I’ve missed Istanbul ever since I left it, and nothing makes me smile more than knowing that in under two months I’ll once again be among the swarming masses of a exuberant metropolis, a city that defies any attempt at comprehension, a place so familiar yet so irresistibly foreign.

But tonight I’m enjoying the hum of the traffic in a city that often feels so devoid of human existence. From my balcony I spot a sole jogger. That’s it. No one selling tea, no kids booting a dilapidated ball about the sidewalk, an absence of elderly women exchanging pleasantries and enquiring after each other’s health. No one selling artichokes off the back of a truck. No cats. No quarelling youth. It’s empty here.

It's gonna make you laugh, then cry

If we had wings, do you think we would suffer so much in one place? Don’t you think we would fly away to paradise?

I’m not sure how many times I’ve read this novel but I’m yet to grow tired of the all-too-human characters, the beautifully sculpted insights into daily life during turn-of-the-century Anatolia, and an end that has not yet failed to make me weep.

When this novel ends, you somehow feel like your heart has been a little bit broken. That sinking feeling. You know you just need to move on, that time will heal everything, that the same mistakes won’t be repeated, and finally, that all’s well that ends well.

Except it isn’t.

Marcel Pagnol wrote it best:

Telle est la vie des hommes. Quelques joies, très vite effacées par d’inoubliables chagrins. Il n’est pas nécessaire de le dire aux enfants.

Melancholy is my friend today. I’m going back to my novel.

Loving the new running shoes

OK. Today is a good day. It’s a new start. I just managed 15km around Safa Park though I promised myself that I’d finish 20km. Also, I’ve decided that watching my life pass by so fast was enough reason to start that 365 project. Today is Day 1. Let’s see how long I can keep this up.

And I love my running shoes.

Best driver in Sri Lanka (in my expert opinion)

If you’re looking for the right person to take you around the island, then Jally is your man.

We found Jally from recommendations on the Lonely Planet Thorn Tree forum, and from there got in touch via email. He provided a quote, his responses were prompt and clear and we immediately understood we were putting ourselves into good hands.

Essentially, the driving experience in South Asia often determines your state of mind upon returning home. Paying a fair price for a competent driver who takes you only where you want to go, who speaks English fluently, and who provides insightful local knowledge and is forever punctual, meant our journey becomes effortless. Getting a bad driver means wanting to punch everyone by the time you pass back through passport control on your way home. We paid a fair price and opted for the good driver.

Jally picked us up from Colombo airport at some ludicrously rude hour of the morning and we never looked back. We’d already planned our more-or-less fixed itinerary before departing, and for the next eight days everything ran smoothly. Jally took us where we wanted to go, was flexible as we altered our arrangements,and has 20 years’ experience of dealing with foreign tourists which has given him an aptitude to understand his customer – not once did he so much as hint at taking us to a local emporium to buy anything – and that alone is enough for me to recommend him highly.

In short Jally will take you where you want to go and not take you where you have no intention of going. He is well-educated, softly spoken, polite… and answered every question we asked in a manner that displayed personal insight and not memorised facts and figures from guide books.

Thank you Jally for making our Sri Lanka experience an exceptional one.

Get in touch with him at rehana_jaleel@yahoo.com

One is leaving tomorrow morning on a flight to Brazil (which leaves approximately two friends), and GG intends to spend his days doing things in a more relaxed mode that would ever be achievable here.

So he bids adieu to this:

What the UAE abounds in

And in less than 48 hours will greet as his new home, this:

What Brazil has to offer

Understandably, I know why you’re leaving GG.

Best of luck and I shall be over for carnevale sooner rather than later.