The ballad of the Broken Irish Man

Life is what happens while you make plans to enjoy it. There are so many unique people on this earth, that something utterly fascinating is happening everywhere you look. This is by no means different when travelling. Actually it probably increases the chance of seeing some wild stuff exponentially. 

 

The Irish traveller who was in town for one night (originally) was no exception. 

I do have some pictures of this lad that I won't be posting, although this blog is mostly just for me these days (nobody has really read this since I went to Thailand), it's still on the internet and I'm about to tell a less-than-flattering story about the poor guy. Yes, he deserves some ridicule and yes, it's a hilarious story, but no, he doesn't deserve to have his personal information online in any capacity. 

Here we go... 

I was settling into my 4th or 5th night at the Hostel. This night (the hostel staff tried to do something "special" which cost extra money) was special. We had a belly dancer and a bbq meal. As soon as I clambered in to the common area from my afternoon nap, I could hear the twang of his Irish accent boisterously filling the room. 

First thing he did when he saw me was make fun of the flannel shirt I was wearing, "where ya from lad?"

I replied, still a little foggy from the nap, "Uhhh, Canada, whats up?" 

He goes, "Well no shit with that fookin shirt you're wearin'!" 

I just laughed. It did kind of look lumberjack adjacent. I needed a couple beers to get on this guy's level. 

And that's how I met Irish Kieran. 

So I had a few beers, and we kept beakin' at each other. All in good fun. 

Eventually the belly dancing show left and the regulars were left to fend for themselves.  So we did the best we could and started talking about going to Taksim Square for a night of dodging Istanbul's finest scammers and trying to find any girl that isn't a hooker. Not as easy as it sounds. 

A little background on the Irishman here: he was a teacher in the U.A.E. and he told us a story of this karaoke bar where near where he was staying while teaching. He asked for a job bouncing at the club so he could drink for free. They initially said no, but he decided to stay and have a few drinks anyways. Eventually his turn to sing came up, but there was a mistake and the song he was prompted was "My Heart will Go On" by Celine Dion. So he sang the song anyways, was laughed at by the bar owners and they told him they would buy him a beer for every night he came back and sang that specific song, and only that song... of course he obliged and was greeted with a raucous "Celine!" every time he walked in the place. He didn't seem to mind. 

We were singing some Karaoke that night and he didn't have an outstanding voice and turned down numerous attempts to get him to sing his signature song. 

So, back to the Taksim bar hopping idea, it was starting to gather steam with about 6 or 7 of us when we pulled the pin and finally paid for our beers and left. Our strange assortment that night included a cool dutch guy, a hippyish polish guy who rode his bicycle to Istanbul, an Italian guy who had been staying at the same hostel for a week as well, two columbian kids who were dressed for a night at the dance clubs looking like a couple new jersey bros, an 18 year old Norwegian, the (now fully drunk) Irishman, and myself. Basically a united nations clown car. 

We left our hostel and Irish immediately heads to the nearest bodega and buys like 3 packs of cigarettes and 4 bottles of beer. We wait for him to pay and I'm starting to think "maybe this isn't the wisest idea," but we soldier on down the street. It's generally frowned upon to drink in public here and you can for sure get arrested for public intoxication. 

As if he was part of of a hidden camera show this guy stumbles a bit with his drinkin' beer in one hand and his bag of beers in the other, takes a tumble on the street and smashes all but the one beer that was open all over the road. He was incredibly proud that he kept the opened one afloat though. But at this point I kind of made the executive decision in my mind to cut this dude loose. I didn't want to get involved with the crooked cops in a crooked Muslim country where the laws were getting more right-winged authoritarian by the day.  

So I started walking a little faster, until he couldn't really keep pace. He was easily distracted by one of the endless business barker guys on the street that try to get you into their ripoff restaurants or bars. The Dutch guy, Matt, eventually got an Uber and we took off for a forgetful night in Taksim. Leaving the Irish dude to his own devices. 

 Apparently we made the right call as when we got back at like 1am, the news from the hostel bartender was that Irish had started asking around for stronger stuff everywhere, and then taken another big spill and broken a couple ribs, spent a few hours in the hospital, and was now sleeping off his injuries in his dorm bed. Jesus what a wreck. 

He slept for 2 more days and I never saw him again. 

Here's to you, hope you found your home Celine, wherever that may be.  

 

 

In the case of my death.

 

You put the word "death" in anything and people think you are being dramatic about shit. Don't get me wrong, it's plenty dramatic. I just don't understand how everyone else thinks it's not going to happen to them. It could happen in 50 years or tomorrow but it's going to happen. When you are surrounded by death and pain for 5ish years, you tend to get used to the topic. 

Anyways the number one rule regarding my death, do not let anyone at Swigs pub and grill do any type of service or wake for me. For the love of all things holy. Don't let anyone who works there, frequents there or has done a rail of 20% low test off the back of the toilets in there be anywhere around my sorry remains. Those death merchants are worse than Mcinnis and Holloway, without the actual services. They just want to pack the place and reap the rewards. Not that I could pack the place anymore, they have certainly made sure of that. In fact, if I die tomorrow it's at least 50% because of the people at Swigs pub and grill. 

Whoever wants to show up can show up, just remember, if you contributed to the utter mess of my last 2 years, or perpetuated any type of brutal rumour about me, maybe sit this one out chief. 

I want this music to be represented and ONLY THIS MUSIC. If anyone else tries to fuck with this, tell them to beat it. 

1.  Beat it - MJ (Just kidding, put Purple Rain here instead) 

2.  Hallelujah - Jeff Buckley

3. Oh boy! - Buddy Holly and the Crickets

4. Since Your Gone - The Cars

5. Wildflowers - Tom Petty

6. People ain't no good - Nick Cave

7. Everything in it's right place - Radiohead

8. Know your enemy - Rage against the machine

9. Man of the year - Sam Barber

10. Change - Blind Melon

11. April 29, 1992 - Sublime

12. Hot girl bummer - blackbear

13. Solo Dolo - Kid Cudi

14. Charleston Girl (Live) - Tyler Childers

15. Coal - Dylan Gossett

16. Straight and Narrow - Sam Barber

17. Nutshell - AIC

18. Neon Experience - Junius Meyvant

19. Wild Horses - Rolling Stones

20. Grace, Too - The Tragically Hip

21. Rich Men North of Richmond - Oliver Anthony

22. Identity - X-ray Specs

23. Heading South - Zach Bryan

24. Traveller - Chris Stapleton

25. Fell on black days - Soundgarden 

26. Lost Together - Blue Rodeo

27. I'll be dat - Redman

28. Broken boy soldier - The Raconteurs

29. Nobody knows you when you're down and out - Clapton

30. Be (intro) - Common

31. Crazy Girls - The California Honeydrops

32. Victim of Love - Eagles

33. Green Lights - Aloe Blacc

34. Venice Queen - Red Hot Chili Peppers

35. Music (feat. Marvin Gaye) - Erick Sermon

36. I wish you well - Tom Cochrane

37. She - Green Day

38. Long Time Running - Tragically Hip

39. Survive - Rise Against

40. To be young (is to be sad) - Ryan Adams

41. Fare thee Well (Dink's Song) - Oscar Isacc, Marcus Mumford

42. Pretty Fucked Up - Supersuckers

43. You - Bad Religion

44. Flute loop - Beastie Boys

45. Home - Moontricks 

(For the updated version of this playlist, it is on my spotify under "The kick it playlist") 

(Reminder to write a will). 

This is all subject to change 

Scam City

 

You say I took the name in vain
I don't even know the name
But if I did, well, really, what's it to you?
There's a blaze of light in every word
It doesn't matter which you heard
The holy or the broken Hallelujah

 

When I am in a foreign place, it's always incredibly important to first: observe the customs, and be aware of my surroundings at all times. I think it's important to carry an understanding that people all over the world are struggling to make ends meet, and that in a tourist centred economy, there will be some bad actors that try to game the system in their favour. Istanbul with it's intensely capitalist market economy is certainly no exception to this. 

It became apparent (especially as I got into the heavy tourist trap areas) that every man in Turkey is a salesman, and they do not take a day off. They see the lack of melanin in my skin combined with the sightseer outfit (hat, shades, bag in front of body), and probably don't even see me as a fellow person. At this point I'm walking down the street like a breathing ATM. 

When you are new to Istanbul they will try to bleed you dry as fast as they can, and efficiently as they can. Before I even left Canada I was getting whatsapp texts from the hotel to get picked up in a private ride from the airport. For a pretty crazy sum. And the thing is, I went for it. Because at least it's a set price and you don't have to gamble on the shady-ass taxi drivers getting you there. Once I figured out the public transit I never went back. 

Walking around on the street you get the standard harassment that comes with any open air market, I'm usually pretty decent at ignoring those guys or learning the word no in the language, for Turkish it's "hayir." Once they can't get you the first couple times, they will leave you alone any time they see you after that. It's like fishing to these guys, they just learn a couple phrases in the popular languages and shout at you as you pass until someone stops to talk, then they turn on the sales pitch. 

One day out there I was having a great day. I had just visited the incredible Hagia Sophia and Blue Mosque, talked to a volunteer representing (the good sides of) Islam for a long while and was flying high on a cloud of wonder and amusement in the very touristy Sultanahmet district. 

This is where I got snagged by a fishing line. "Hey brother," I heard as I was probably staring up at the sky like a moron with my mouth open (easy prey). They guy fishing was a mid 30s typical Turkish dude, darker features and a highly developed script he uses probably 50 times a day. 

I'm a solo traveller here who tends to be pretty social and likes to connect on a personal level. So when I let my guard down for a second, that was all that was needed by this guy to swoop in like a hawk with talon's out. 

All the normal starter questions were asked to establish a quick rapport with the prospective mark... he asked "where you from," "how long you are here for," told me I looked Turkish and said I looked like I lived in Istanbul ( which couldn't be farther from the truth so this is when I started to get my wits back about me). He even told me about his family, and asked about mine. 

When I had enough of the fake niceties, I said "alright man, I need to get going," and I started walking towards the hostel about 15 mins south. He said, "hey my uncle has a shop in that direction, do you mind if I walk that way with you?''

I said sure, and as we walked he must have recited some crazy turkish magic phrase since I ended up following him into his uncle's shop. This is where things got into the realm of Turkiye that isn't fun. 

As I was led upstairs through the main floor area which seemed to be a regular shop of Turkish baubles and goods, I was more into seeing how this whole Turkish sales pitch was going to go. I knew t was going to be a little intense but I wasn't really prepared for the uncle. 

As the nephew led me upstairs he asked if I wanted any tea or coffee, (they are hoping you say yes so that you feel like you owe them). I said yes, I also drank a bottle of water while I sat on a couch and looked around upstairs at all the crazy rugs. This is another scam as tourists looking for authentic Turkish rugs likely won't find that here. Although the rugs in this shop certainly looked nice, they also had uniform tags on every one and looked a bit to machine perfect to have any type of handmade authenticity.

So I sat and talked to the nephew some more as we waited for the big boss man to come in and give the whole sales pitch. He didn't disappoint. 

After about 2 minutes of small talk and free water and tea, in strolls the "uncle." Wearing an 80s style oversized suit with shoulder pads you could tell he was going for the whole intimidation factor. He had one of those Turkish fidget spinner chain toys I see a lot of the men fiddling with on the regular and he takes a seat to my left while snapping it around. It was obvious he thought he was going to make a big sale that day. 

He starts by telling me to look around at all the rugs and there was an air of supreme confidence and superiority to his tone. It was as if he was subliminally trying to tell me that these were the best rugs in all of Turkiye and I was lucky just to be in their presence. He has his younger nephew, or child or grandchild pick up about 10 rugs and start to lay them down on the floor in front of me, telling me to pick out my favourite. So I do, a blue one did look pretty cool for a cheap rug that was probably made in china. 

 He goes, "Oh you like this one, it is 2850.00 American dollars." 

I couldn't stifle my laughter fast enough and let out a strained (admittedly slightly nervous at this point) chuckle. This didn't sit well with big boss man in the suit. A stole a few glances at him and he looked like a very stereotypical older Turkish salesman: darker features and a large nose, ears and mouth. 

I now wanted the interaction to go on strictly for the story later. I retorted with "I wouldn't pay more than 100 bucks." 

He came back with "Ok, now we have a starting point," with a slight grin that indicated towards sinking the fishing hook deeper. So we continued to dance as I took another sip of the tea. In retrospect I should have only drank from a sealed bottle when up in this strange shop in a strange land, who knows what could've been in that tea. 

I knew I wasn't going to buy this shit. He thought he was snagging a sucker and all the other kids and nephews or whatever were here to watch their master sales uncle take down another unsuspecting sale. We were relatively caught in a stale mate that only I was seemingly aware of. 

I thought it would be pertinent to mention at this point, "I'm not going to buy anything here, I barely have enough money to get home tonight." 

Thinking this was a negotiation tactic he replied, "ok what do you think is a fair price for this rug?" You already asked me that buddy, do you want me to give you the actual honest answer for some crap that was obviously mass produced in a factory from far away?  He went on "we do free shipping to all over the world, where are you from?" I told him "Canada."

He lit up a little again, and mentioned Toronto like it was the key to get back to the negotiation table. Little does he know, Toronto is of very little relevance to a west-coast Canadian. Mentioning that city would have actually hurt his chances if I was at all serious about buying any of his crap. 

I said, "It doesn't matter about the free shipping, I'm honestly not going to buy anything today, thank you for the tea." 

And his whole aura perceptively switched in that moment, he looked at me with angry eyes and said, "what if I put a gun to your head right now?"

There are a few times in my life where I've been held at gunpoint. It's not a good feeling. For some reason though when those fuckin words came out of this greasy sales guy, I wasn't in the least bit scared. It actually made me (internally this time) chuckle again. The only thing I said in a dry tone was "I don't like pressure sales tactics." You could see he was getting visually agitated now. 

He was flailing with the rug in his hand as he continued to sit in the chair. Then he told me to empty my pockets. 

I told him "hayir" which means no, and got up to leave. 

At his point he was realizing the big fish of the moment was getting away. He actually threw the rug into the middle of the room, narrowly missing me by a few inches and looked absolutely furious (although still sitting, which made me a bit more at ease). As I continued to walk through the room towards the door he started shouting at me "YOU ARE NOT A MAN," and "WE HAD A DEAL." We did not good sir. 

I said "tesekular edirim," which means thank you and put my hand over my heart with a slight bow as I backed out of the room slowly and was somewhat surprised when none of the other men in the room grabbed me. Needless to say I walked out of the room, down the stairs, and out the door back on the crazy busy streets of Sultanahmet. My heart was going a mile a minute at this point. 

I walked home safely with a story to tell and a smile on my face as I got harassed by about 20 more shopkeepers on my way back to my hostel. Such is life in this absolutely bonkers part of Istanbul. 

 

 

 

Just pictures of my boy Ryan.

 

To my brother.

Just last week we had a video chat while I was in Istanbul, and I couldn't have been more proud of the guy on the other end of the call. You were back in the gym, working at a new spot, and you sounded happy. Happiest I had heard you in a while actually. We kinda kept it brief and said "I love you" as a goodbye and then hung up. The whole conversation was less than 10 minutes. 

I was so proud of my friend, of my brother, of my partner in crime and mayhem at many different junctions of our lives. 

Man, you sure knew how to piss me off sometimes though. You must've been my brother because we have had some drag out brawls over the years. It was always from a place of love and friendship (we were just both stubborn personalities), but we both knew exactly how to get the other going. 

 

We also had some insanely fun times, some of the best memories in my life involve you and your crazy brand of fun that was absolutely infectious and brought everyone into your massive orbit. You were a "glue" guy in every sense of the phrase. 

 

You were the life of the party everywhere you went, and people were drawn to your super human magnetic personality. No matter what, if Ryan Macgowan was involved, it was going to be at the very least not boring. Right now the afterlife is LIT up there, of that I have no doubt. 

 

 

 

We went to Thailand together and we shared some pretty incredible memories out there. We talked about going back often and I now wish that our lives would have allowed us to do that. The full moon party, the trips to all the islands, the nights spent in paradise while we sipped on Singhas. I'll always hold those memories very close. 

  

 

As we grew up we got somewhat wiser and somewhat more mature. Going up north to work was a good thing for you and you started really hittin' the gym and working on yourself. You were looking more fit, more happy, and more present than you have in a while. I was so proud of my brother. 

 

 

Yup, you had some flaws (don't we all). Anyone who really knew you could see your true heart though. You were a walking calamity at times, and you certainly drove us nuts constantly, but you were a person that was always there when I needed you, and you would have never turned your back on the people you loved. And you were surely loved in return. 

 

 

There's so much to say about you, the mark you left on people was unerasable. You will leave a void in my heart and in the hearts of so many that knew you. Your flame will burn as long as the memory of you stays strong within those hearts, and luckily for us, you were unforgettable.  
 

I love you.  

Hostel World

Baby I've been here before
I've seen this room and I've walked this floor
I used to live alone before I knew you
I've seen your flag on the marble arch
But love is not a victory march
It's a cold and it's a broken hallelujah 

 

Alright after the first night's wrong hotel debacle and the second night spent getting stung by a mosquito and listening to drunken Iranian dudes stumble around a shitty hostel dorm, I was ready for something a bit easier. 

So while I was awake all night at the hostel from hell, I did some research on a good social hostel to spend my next few nights. Looking at reviews on hostel world and google always tends to be an exercise in futility, they often have friends fill them out or pressure the good clients to leave the good reviews, so my strategy is to look at the bad reviews and figure out why they didn't like it. Sometimes you can tell if the client just wanted a fancy hotel and doesn't quite understand the whole hostel experience. Really I'm only in it for the social aspect, if the rooms are even serviceable I'm cool with it. 

Found one that had a cool looking lounge and offered beer pong, kareoke and pub crawls. Got three nights and took the train to the "old city," where the Cheers Lighthouse hostel lay hidden among a sea of boutique hotels and little bars and restaurants. 

Walking to find this place from the train brought me right through the historic district of Sultanahmet. Getting lost in this area is unreal. Every single step you take is steeped in the past, and you can feel the pulse of the souls that walked the steps before you. 

The train system in Istanbul puts Calgary to shame.

Fishermen off the bridge always

A pedestrian picture of a pedestrian park. 

 

I arrived in the Hostel where I met the bartender, who was from Paris originally, and the event planner from Albania originally. I dumped my bags in my room and went out for the day. I was finally ready to start my trip. 

A view of the Bosphorus shipyard from the balcony. 

 

Home for about 5 days.

 

 

 

 Man, you meet some of the coolest people in these types of hostels. The week I was staying I felt like I hit the jackpot. We had Indonesians, Dutch, Egyptians, Americans, a crazy Irish dude, Italians, Spanish, Colombian, and Brazilians. 

 

I did the pub crawl one night, that was pretty wild. I have my comments about the drinking and "clubbing" culture that I will save for another post. 

 

We had a belly dancer in one night. That was also interesting. Had an awesome time. The beer was too expensive though but that's Istanbul in general I think, stupid government.