patient, focused.

"Any culture that is patient and focused enough to spend years working on a single carpet is capable of waiting years and even decades to acheive even greater goals."
- Prince bin Zayed of Abu Dhabi on the Persian, Wikileaks

the amazing life of phillipe ferrier

"In 1839, while being prosecuted by his creditors, he developed a feeling for adventure. He was recruited as a military instructor by Ḥosayn Khan Ājudān-bāši (q.v.). After his attempt to conquer Herat, countered by the British (1837-38), Moḥammad Shah (q.v.) had sent Ḥosayn Khan on a diplomatic mission to Europe (1839). While in Paris, he endeavored to persuade France to supplant Britain in Persia. To replace the withdrawn British instructors, he recruited French officers and artisans." Source

"The Persians have been not inaptly called the Frenchmen of the East. Their elegant manners, their wit, their levity, their general scepticism, their taste, their love of display, their hospitality, and their cookery, give them a claim to this title as compared with the surrounding Mohammedan nations. A Persian gentleman is naturally polished and refined. It would be difficult to exceed the grace of his demeanour and his courteous address. He is intimately acquainted with the literature of his country, and will embellish his conversation and his letters with ready and apposite quotations from the poets of his nation. He will be apparently generous and unselfish. His house and its contents are yours. He is your servant and your dearest friend." Source

hafiz far from home

zolf bar bād made, tā nadahi bar bādam....

Translation of Hafiz' divān, Sarajevo

har gez namirad ān ke delash zendeh shod ze eshq...

Translation of Hafiz' divān, Istanbul

Hafiz commentary in Ottoman and Persian, Istanbul

galata fishermen

"I hate this place," Samir grumbled in his singsong Damascene as he served up two plates of fresh fish. Mine was horrible, maddeningly full of spikes and wrapped in a cheap bun. "They work me twelve hours a day and treat me like shit all the time. They've got this complex, these Turks, they blame us for bringing down the Ottoman empire. It's the fucking twenty first century, get over it!" He was getting visibly redder in the face as he spoke; he saw in me an opening to vent, and I gladly obliged.

"You know I don't just work here, right, I am studying maritime law, masters, at the university..." Trailed off, distracted, and then suddenly leaped into character as he saw a couple pass by. "WELCOME!" he shouted, with a comically desperate grin, "Take a look at our menu, great prices, service, best fish in town!! Please just take a look, maybe for later..." The tourists awkwardly disentangled themselves and walked on.

Everything about this city makes me giddy and delighted to be here. Not least of these elements are the fishermen who come out each night on the Galata bridge, fishing until all hours of the morning. It was sad to think of Samir's rough patch, that he felt compelled to point out that he was a student, and not just a waiter. It made me think of my own insecurities on being away from the academy. Samir bustled about the store, stopping every once in a while to lament one or another facet of Turkish life.

Babaçan

Babaçan is an Alevi from Eastern Turkey. Some people radiate peace. He spent a good half hour talking to me about life in his village, in Istanbul, as a musician. I tried to catch bits and pieces with my broken Turkish. He sits in a cold underpass on the Bosphorus from seven to ten each night playing away for passers bye. He couldn't possibly do it for the money, because there didn't seem to be many people walking by, or very many coins in his case.