Istanbul, Turkey
On May 15, 1966
Hi, brother!
I set foot on Turkish soil with as much bias in my luggage that my bags themselves! Gradually, my stay there was responsible for breaking my preconceptions about these and the Levantine countries austere.
So many wonders, I saw Turkey! It is a country where beauty, as cruel as its inhabitants sometimes you tear out the same emotions at the heart cry of a admiraton that fails to emerge. Cappadocia, Lake Van, the Anatolian plateau ... A surreal nature: sometimes wild, sometimes subdued with finesse.
Did I tell you that I am awakened by the muezzin in Istanbul? The call to prayer has even surpassed my alarm clock. But I was not troubled: these songs have a tinge of melancholy. Melancholy, a prayer? I can easily guess your laughter when reading this letter. I know how my tendency to romanticize any aspect of life, t'exaspère. Later, during the visit of the town, my guide introduced me to an evening of poetry and folk songs in a cafe. Fairly new to the Turkish language, I did translate the poems and songs whose sound kept my attention. Basir, my guide, was loaned to the year with great pleasure. Many rang pleasantly in the ear, both by words as by the pace. I found these to a scent of antiquity. The rich and tumultuous history of ancient Constantinople must surely get a grip on its people.
Earlier, during my trip on a donkey in the desert plains of Pamukale, our fitted was mobbed by a crowd of Kurdish children. These youngsters were thrown at us without any shame or distrust us to our place to beg for every little trinket at hand. I offered the little beggars a notebook and some pencils to bother with me more than they were for. I caught the eye in a flash of joy when I asked them how they were going and how old they were in their mother tongue. One European who knows the Kurd?! And condescending to talk to them?
I would write you more about this wonderful expedition, but I am weary easily. You see, digestive discomfort me bedridden. Dinner yesterday, as luscious as it is, very wrong and I spent a sleepless night, sick as a dog. Do not worry about me: I feel much better, but I miss the rest ... even the most gifted natures have weak points. My weakness, for example, that the flavors of the world. You yourself know how I can be greedy!
with this letter you will find some photographs and postcards. And a recommendation: come join me! Join me around the world will only be more fun with my best friend. Despite your apparent confidence, I know you have not yet submitted your separation with Gisele (after nineteen years together). I find your last words in a bitter taste. Go out to you, old man! Travel! Meet other people! It's gonna change your mind, believe in a veteran divorce. This was my final offer. Basically, you know what you have to do at your age. I'll miss you anyway if you do not come.
you later, eternal accomplice of rainy days and happy!
George
Nathalie Benoit,
On July 22, 2003
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