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General observations on Istanbul


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Here are a few general points I have noted over the past few weeks - points that lend themselves to the barely-edited-not-remotely-coherent nature of blogs, particularly this one:
  • I need to get another cellphone. It seems that everyone, from my real estate broker, to potential business partners, to a gentleman I will refer to as "The Bond Villain" (more on him later) has two cellphones. Apparently, one is no longer enough. You need one for your personal life, and one for business. I've decided that I will need three cellphones: the first for my private life as the merry, cosmopolitan bon vivant you all know and love; the second shall be devoted to matters of high commerce and industry; the last shall be used only when I've had too much to drink, in order to call up my lady friends and harangue them.
  • Istanbul is under constant construction. My natural suspicion of all things government-related have led me to suspect that all they're doing is uprooting the streets only to resurface them in the same slipshod manner because somebody somewhere is getting big bags of Mustafas off the transaction. (In Turkey, it's not "all about the Benjamins", because Mr. Franklin, despite a prodigious and varied career, did not quite find the time to found modern Turkey. That job was left to Mustafa Kemal Atatürk, who's noble visage appears on all currency notes. By this time next year, I'll be rollin' in mad Mustafas, yo.)
  • Istanbul is damn beautiful. I am routinely amazed by the breathtaking views of the Bosphorus, the splendid architecture, the very majesty of the great metropolis. As an example, this is the view from the balcony of my modest little flat:

(remember: you can click on the pic to see a bigger version)

Pretty sweet, eh?


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About me

  • I'm Sunset Shazz
  • Living the dream in Istanbul, Turkey
  • I grew up in the hardscrabble streets of suburban Ottawa, Ontario, committing petty crime, insulting the elderly - basically the classic misspent youth. When I was 19, I moved to West Philly, where I put myself through the Wharton School by dealing crack and hustling. After stints in Paris and London, I eventually graduated and moved to San Francisco, where I put in eight years hard labor working for The Man. But now I pop bottles with models, deciding cracked crab or lobster - who says mobsters don't prosper?
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