I am sorry for not updating this weblog more frequenlty, but I am tembel (lazy)! In the meantime, many things happen, related or not to my research, more properly related to my life. I have brought with me from Amsterdam the book of Margaret Mead "Letters from the field, 1925-1975". It's funny, because my supervisor proposed to take a monograph with me, "to not feel lonely in the field". It was a good idea indeed but, instead, I chose a collection of letters, during her long period of fieldwork in the islands of the pacific. I am more interested in the emotions, the thoughts, the mood of the researcher. Because the theories we are teached at school. The practice is now and it includes feelings besides methodology, collection of data, interpretation. Reflections, I should say.

Mead writes that letters and news from home are both a temptation and an interruption; they can wrench one's thoughts and feelings inappropriately away. I don't know about that, because I am firstly anthropos and next anthropologist. Last Friday I received a sad news about a very dear family; I was overwhelmed. And Saturday I had to go to a Greek carnival party for participant observation. Before I go, I thought that I definately need a masque with a huge smile, to veil my sadness. But as soon as I was there, the field cought my interest and distracted my thoughts. A party, nevertheless, is a good way to distract one's mind. So, the anthropologist in me was back, and now I am happy about that. In general, my research is going well, and by now I am introduced in, but not a part of, the community. For them I am a Greek doing research, and the Rum community is very cautious with outsiders. But in general they are very helpful and kind people, with sincere feelings, I think.
I know that the title of this weblog is 'fielwork in Istanbul' but most of the posts are about my life here; it depends on my mood. We'll see what's next...

A quiet Sunday morning. This weekend was the most quiet of all here in Istanbul. I have been sick, with a sore throat and a weird temperature, so I didn’t go out neither Friday night nor Saturday. Thus, I woke up quite bored of the house and went out for a walk. First, I passed by the Dervish Lodge, close to Galata Tower. There was a show at 15.00 but it was 25 YTL and, in addition, I had already seen the whirling dervishes back in Amsterdam at Museumnacht in November. Therefore, I paid 2YTL to enter the gardens or silent-house, where most of the dervishes are buried. I took a lot of pictures; I don’t know what I am going to do with them, but the place was inviting.

On the way back, I passed by a Catholic church which is actually very close to our house, took some pictures and heard for only some minutes the songs of a Chinese community attending their Sunday service. And then I met Kanber; he was going out and proposed to join him. We had discussed some days ago that we should go to Tarlabasi in the morning, because after speaking to my informants but as well as with Kanber, I was informed that this used to be a very classy Greek neighbourhood. I knew already Tarlabasi from my birthday – night but I didn’t know that it was also another old Greek neighbourhood. The scenery now is of course much different, again very beautiful old houses but almost collapsing, and gypsy and Kurdish people are the present inhabitants. I have many nice pictures in my camera but also in my mind of this very poor but colourful neighborhood. Clothes were hanging from one balcony to another, children were playing in the streets, women were washing the carpets on the streets; then Kanber took me to a Christian church and there we found some Greek people sitting outside. The name of the church was Evangelistria and Mr. Vasilis, the verger of the church (καντυλανάφτης) unlocked the door and let us in. We were amazed; it is an old and beautiful church. For Kanber the experience was even more intense than mine because it was the first time he entered a Christian Orthodox Church. Mr. Vasilis told me that in the past, in the 60s, people were queuing in order to attend the Sunday's service. "But now"...he said, "we are so few". I asked him how many people were this morning in the service and he said around 10, 15 maximum. Yes, indeed, the community is shrinking.

The Greek schools have been closed these last two weeks, a thing that kind of slowed down my research. On Wednesday, I had a very interesting interview with the secretary of Zografeion Highschool, who told me –among other things- that the graduates of last year were 12 (big class, as she commented) and this year’s senior class has also 12 students. She also told me that she will give me the phone numbers of last years graduates but she had to wait for the principal to come back from a trip abroad. Consequently, after tomorrow, maybe I will have more informants. Let’s see…

A brief description of what is central in Turkish newspapers over the past week: The Hrant Dink murder and the controversy it has sparked. It seems that the slogan used at Dink’s funeral “We are all Armenians” fuelled a reaction and many people, from what I read in the newspapers, declare now “No, we are Turks”. What seems to be the reality is that there are two different Turkeys, on that is more open and tolerant, and another infused with ethnic nationalism. The latter one seems to spoil the image of Turkey as the example of a tolerant state regardless of religious, language and ethnic differences.

The other day I went to Fener (Φανάρι), the old Greek neighbourhood midway up the Golden Horn, where the Christian Orthodox Patriarchate is situated. The streets are full of remains of historic houses that are left in oblivion … I was moved. It seems I cannot escape my Greek identity either. I tried to imagine almost 3 centuries ago, how this neighbourhood would look like when the people of Fener, the Phanariotes, who were prominent Greek families occupied in political and administrative posts in the Ottoman Empire during the 17^th and 18^th century, where living there. And now all you can see is ruins, reminders of another epoch, alive only in memory.

It’s funny but once you are abroad, you tend to stress your nationality, as the most important feature of your identity besides sex; the rest follow: student, worker, musician, artist, traveller, anthropologist, photographer, etc. This is why I sympathise with the Greeks I meet here and their attachment to religion, history and memory. Wherever I go, to the Greek consulate, to the schools, I find big marble inscriptions of Patriarch Bartholomeos, the oath of Alexander the Great and so on. Justifiable, in a way, I think…

As far as my research is concerned, all my contacts come from the Zografeion Highschool. From there I was informed that the majority of graduate students go to study abroad and especially in Greece, because they have advantages as foreigners. Consequently, there are not a lot of young Rums in the city, a fact that makes my research more difficult. But I think that if I talk to family or friends and achieve to find at least 10 or 15 informants it would be satisfying. The principal of the Greek school told me that this year 49 students attend classes in total and that the last 11 years 140 students have gratuated. I have managed to find only a few so far but hopefully I will find more. I have 55 days to go, I am optimistic.