Golden Horn view from Tepebasi

Golden Horn view from Tepebasi, Beyoglu Istanbul, pentax k10d

Marmara Hotel, Tepebasi

a hotel in Tepebasi , Istanbul , Pentax k10d

Galatasaray College

St. Antoine Church , St. Anthony of Padua Cathedral

St. Anthony of Padua Cathedral

St. Anthony of Padua Cathedral, alternatively known as the Sant’Antonio di Padova Cathedral, S. Antonio di Padova, St. Antoine or St. Antuan, is the largest cathedral of the Roman Catholic Church in Istanbul, Turkey. It is located on İstiklal Avenue in the Beyoğlu district.

Along with the Cathedral of the Holy Spirit (1846) in the Harbiye district, St. Louis of the French (1581) and Santa Maria Draperis in Beyoğlu, Sts. Peter and Paul (1841) in Galata, Assumption Church in the Moda quarter of Kadıköy, St. Stephen in Yeşilköy and Bakırköy Church in Bakırköy, it is one of the most important Catholic churches in Istanbul, and among them has the largest community following its masses.

The original St. Anthony of Padua Cathedral was built in 1725 by the local Italian community of Istanbul, but was later demolished and replaced with the current building which was constructed on the same location. The current St. Anthony of Padua, along with its adjacent buildings (known as the St. Antoine Apartmanları) on İstiklal Avenue, was built between 1906 and 1912 in the Venetian Neo-Gothic style, and was likewise edificed by the local Italian community of the city, mostly of Genoese and Venetian descent, who amounted to 40,000 people at the turn of the 20th century. The building was designed by the Istanbulite Levantino Italian architect Giulio Mongeri, who also designed many other important buildings in Istanbul and Ankara; such as the Maçka Palas (which houses Armani Café and Gucci) in Nişantaşı and the Neo-Byzantine style Karaköy Palas bank building in Karaköy (Galata), Istanbul; as well as the first headquarters of Türkiye İş Bankası in Ankara.

The cathedral is run by Italian priests. Saturday mass is in Italian and begins at 19:00, Sunday mass is in English and begins at 10:00, and Tuesday mass is in Turkish and begins at 11:00.

Pope John XXIII preached in this church for 10 years, when he was the Vatican’s ambassador to Turkey before being elected as pope. He is known in Turkey with the nickname “The Turkish Pope” because of his fluent Turkish and his often expressed love for Turkey and the city of Istanbul.

Nevizade street

Beyoglu, Nevizade street

rush hours of an Istanbul night :)

Tonight I’ll Be Staying Here With You

Throw my ticket out the window,
Throw my suitcase out there, too,
Throw my troubles out the door,
I don’t need them any more
‘Cause tonight I’ll be staying here with you.

I should have left this town this morning
But it was more than I could do.
Oh, your love comes on so strong
And I’ve waited all day long
For tonight when I’ll be staying here with you.

Is it really any wonder
The love that a stranger might receive.
You cast your spell and I went under,
I find it so difficult to leave.

I can hear that whistle blowin’,
I see that stationmaster, too,
If there’s a poor boy on the street,
Then let him have my seat
‘Cause tonight I’ll be staying here with you.

Throw my ticket out the window,
Throw my suitcase out there, too,
Throw my troubles out the door,
I don’t need them any more
‘Cause tonight I’ll be staying here with you.
Bob Dylan

An ordinary Nevizade night …

raki, talk and Beyoglu. It was an ordinary Nevizade night.

Nevizade street is in the Beyoglu. There are several restaurants. Long years only raki drinking is enable in this street. Now, you can find beer and wine .

I like raki.

it was the hot night. Like an Ceza (the most famous rap star of Turkey) ’s song

“
this night is very hot
I ‘ll be fire
the end of night will be boom
“

another view of historical place

old building from back streets of Beyoglu

pentax zp1-p

old building fights with years

Beyoglu, Istanbul

Mystery street in Beyoglu

old building in Beyoglu

An old building in Beyoglu. Lower stages are used as restaurant. Higher stages are reserved for homeless …

Europe Shopping Mall

Europe Shopping Mall (in Turkish : Avrupa Pasajı)  has got two door

• Galatasaray door  :  through formerly England consulate  and Galatasaray High School (Galatasaray Lisesi)
• Beyoglu Fish Market door   (Beyoglu Balik Pazari)

taken with Pentax K10-D

Inci Patisserie : profiterole heaven in Beyoglu

Inci patisserie at Beyoğlu, Pentax K10D

Hacibekir candy shop

Ali Muhiddin Hacıbekir,Hacıbekir Candy shop, Hacıbekir şekercisi Beyoğlu

taken by Pentax K10D, at Istanbul

cowparade

cowparade event in Galatasaray, Beyoglu Istanbul, Pentax K10d

St. Antoine Church, Beyoglu

St. Antoine Church, Beyoglu Istanbul, Pentax K10d

St. Antoine Church in Beyoglu and visitors

St. Antoine Church, Beyoglu Istanbul, pentax k10d

Beyoglu, Inci patisserie (İnci Pastanesi)

Inci Patisserie, Beyoglu, Pentax K10D

a good memoir about Beyoglu  from Küçük Iskender, famous young poet.

WE WERE HANDSOME SOULFUL CHILDREN

My heart skipped to the beat of “Songs singing of you / your name a melody / like passion, like love / a moody, sweet lady,” through an altogether different youth. Then, we blended in with the blackest of black in places where we were made to surrender. The transvestite rock bars converted from night clubs were just like drugs that exploded, intoxicated, and fizzled out. With the same purposeful expression fixed on the same faces, we adorned an executioner’s glance with lives blown out like uninflated balloons. With young gentlemen and ladies too young to drink beer or make love, we searched for common melancholy in all the hide-outs of Istiklal, in the hands of dealers without fingernails, under the swelling jackets of men of dubious identity, dressed up in dark suits, in the bottle-tops with slit edges used as junk pots, in the devil in our blood, in the save-the-universe cult complexion of a dumb-drunken-destitute woman, in the corpse of the child glue-sniffer which lay partly covered with newspaper. We searched but couldn’t find.
Yes, every street in Beyoglu is a bit like Elm Street. The younger generation sticking in their own gravestones on street corners, with the plastic water bottles from their pockets! So why are we grateful?! We have no gods but ourselves! Who knows how many dead we left behind on that long journey starting out at the French Consulate and ending at Tunel in the short underground train?! Here, hydrochloric acid is the best solvent. Everyone in Beyoglu must have a connection with a 900 phone-in line. Everyone can tell a story. Everyone is a reminder of something. Everyone has a reputation. Everyone is ready to make another reputation. In Beyoglu, love is duty-bound to sex. Love, in Beyoglu, often works overtime at night. Drinking has no brakes. Everything that’s pop inclines toward the blues in the early hours. What strikes you is a vampire illusion. Everyone’s got to be a bit deluded in Beyoglu. That’s style. For instance, I got to like strawberries in Beyoglu. I got to like films, I got to like Kurt Cobain in Beyoglu. That’s where I felt bad for the first time. That’s where I first made Bad Friends. Where I broke my jaw. Where I lost my first child who was never to be found. Beyoglu is like a maternity clinic built on a graveyard. An organic enigma dressed in multi-colored lights!
Watch out, stranger! Don’t ever sail into Beyoglu without a guide! Not everyone’s got the balls to get into bed with Beyoglu! You’ve got to be both a gentleman/bey and a son/ogul! Here everyone identifies with someone else. Guns are drawn and fired. Being here is being scattered all over the world. Plain-clothes policemen right and left! Radical islamist doner-kebab joints right and left! Junkies right and left! Cats and dogs! Extras at every step! Wine joints, TV, bars, and street cafés at every step! Beyoglu progresses like a consuming disease! Rather drunk! Staggering, tripping over, stumbling down, then up again without help. Beyoglu, going down in history on its own!
A pair of bloody scissors is left on each doorstep. Somebody’s life apparently swept off to somebody else’s. Our garbage quickly dumped off on each other. Maybe this is where socialism will take heart. The families of those who’ve gone missing in detention will start living here. This is where we’ll learn to be humanists once more. The cock that crew out of time can only be a revolutionary who deliberately caused death. Everyone in Beyoglu believes in revolution as much as in suicide. Everyone in Beyoglu has been back from the brink of execution. Will everyone please button up!
But we were handsome, soulful children, shattered to pieces, who, without taking leave, let ourselves into the bosom of manly nights. There was always a blind violin-player wandering in the mirrors of our sweating, youthful moustache. We loved alcohol. Cigarettes figured like seagulls on our holders. Everyone was a doctor, attending to love in their center. Someone, pushing his way through the doctors, called out: “Make way, please make way, I’m ill!”
Every night a plane crashes into Beyoglu! No one survives from the crew or the passengers. Just when you’ve approached a mobile food stall to eat bird’s meat with pilav, the plane appears in the skies above. The landing gear doesn’t work, and the plane comes crashing down on any old lover of yours. The barman who doesn’t instantly mix cyanide in your drink is bound to get fired. Beyoglu is an aquarium, where sharks swim!
Poetry in Beyoglu is the whisper of an insane genie. At the end of our meetings people ask each other how much more time they’ve still got to live. Answering calls for courage. People whose hearts have turned into a shred of skin caught in a zipper are pumped into other parts of the city through the arteries like a snowman about to melt. The oxygen you’ve supplied to others in Beyoglu comes back to you in tears that bond and flow down Yuksekkaldirim where ageing, beautiful whores, stepping out of the brothel, drown in them.
Our hearts were roughly handled in the joints on the side streets, so we used to get together to clear them of charge. We were majestic murderers, proud and confident. We kept falling in love at the matinee or the night show. The person who curled up in our bed in the late hours was definitely not a lover. We loved the persons we made love with, as much as we loved our enemy, and hated them in disgust, as we hated our lover. Using condoms in Beyoglu was gross insult!
People were stapled to memories. Their eyes poking into a frozen moment, they tried to tease out sense and anxiety. When was poetry ever a mitigating circumstance?! Could’ve been, possibly. A bright blue teardrop. A bright blue embrace. A bright blue swan. No. Here, blue is the bleeding of a darker, deeper blue. Living in Beyoglu is symptomatic of AIDS.
They used to come to the forest to protect us. They were skillful, strong, sharp. We offered them our torches, knife-blades, fault lines, and lice. Retreating to our cages in Beyoglu, the public zoo, we expected to score full points in death and dejection. We had sliced up and devoured our wardens and our mothers. Super heights! Super nonsense! Super-chargers! Beyoglu is a double-rolled joint wherein lies a scattering of lives. Wherever you go, wherever you live, Beyoglu is the thing that Cavafy talks about! But can one tell? Hope springs everywhere. And those who lean on hope are bound to confront Beyoglu. It’s Beyoglu who’ll choose the arms. You’ll each count ten paces, then face each other and fire. Pity, though, that yours is a blank round! Beyoglu will have shot you without mercy!

“Hitchcock’un Es Gectigi Plato: Beyoglu!” Mediterraneans 10: Istanbul Ozel Sayisi

Kucuk Iskender

Translated by  Saliha Paker

inci patisserie and profiterole

profiterole in İnci Patisserie, Beyoğlu

Inci Patisserie is famous with Profiterole. We’re eating Profiterole and lemonade.

from Wikipedia

A profiterole or cream puff or Eddie (United States regionalism) is a popular choux pastry. Choux paste is baked into small round puffs that are served cold with a sweet filling and sometimes a topping. The usual fillings are whipped cream and pastry cream. The puffs may be left plain or cut to resemble swans or decorated with chocolate sauce, caramel, or a dusting of powdered sugar. This dessert is not to be confused with puff pastry.

Preparation

The choux paste is piped through a pastry bag or dropped with a pair of spoons into small balls and baked to form largely hollow puffs. The puffs are filled by slicing off the top, filling, and reassembling, or by injecting with a pastry bag and a narrow piping tip.

Presentation

The most common dessert presentations involve ice cream, whipped cream or a pastry cream filling, and are served plain, with chocolate sauce, or with a crisp caramel glaze. They can also be topped with powdered sugar, frosting, or fruit.

Filled and glazed with caramel, they are assembled into a type of pièce montée called croquembouches, often served at weddings in France. Profiteroles are also used as the outer wall of Gâteau St-Honoré.

Gougères

Gougères are the savoury equivalent of profiteroles, and may be filled with a cheese mixture, game puree, etc. They are generally used as an hors d’oeuvre or a garnish or dumpling for soup.

History

The origin of both the pastry and its name profiterole are obscure.

The word profiterole (also spelled prophitrole, profitrolle, profiterolle)[2] has existed in English since the 16th century, borrowed from French. The original meaning in both English and French is unclear, but later it came to mean a kind of roll ‘baked under the ashes’. A 17th-century French recipe for a Potage de profiteolles or profiterolles describes a soup of dried small breads (presumably the profiteroles) simmered in almond broth and garnished with cockscombs, truffles, and so on.[3] The current meaning is only clearly attested in the 19th century.

taken by Pentax K10D, at Istanbul

St. Antoine church door (St. Anthony of Padua Cathedral, St. Antuan church)

door of St. Antoine Church, Beyoglu Istanbul, pentax k10d

St. Anthony of Padua Cathedral

St. Antoine Church,St. Anthony of Padua Cathedral, Beyoğlu Istanbul