<ul fr-original-style="padding-inline-start: 20px;" style="padding-inline-start: 20px; margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 1em; list-style-position: inside; box-sizing: border-box;"><li dir="ltr" fr-original-style="" style="box-sizing: border-box;">If my friends talk about me while I'm not around, I hear them say Sanki Ceyda. (It’s a wordplay on Sanki Atölye, “sanki” means “nearly” in Turkish)</li><li dir="ltr" fr-original-style="" style="box-sizing: border-box;">I am currently working as a chef and content creator. If I hadn’t been doing that, I'd want to be a farmer.</li><li dir="ltr" fr-original-style="" style="box-sizing: border-box;">For my friends, my specialty is cooking, and for me, my specialty is designing food.</li><li dir="ltr" fr-original-style="" style="box-sizing: border-box;">If I haven't done it myself, I'm usually at a friend’s table. One of my favorite things is the food someone else prepares at home.</li><li dir="ltr" fr-original-style="" style="box-sizing: border-box;">Unfortunately, it is not very pleasant to walk in the neighborhood. I will not be able to argue that it is very convenient to hike, as it has "hill" in the name. (“Tepe” means “hill” in Turkish) If I'm in a hurry, I like to walk from Ihlamur Pavilion, otherwise I like to walk from Maçka Park to Sanki Atölye.</li><li dir="ltr" fr-original-style="" style="box-sizing: border-box;">My recent vegan discovery in Istanbul: Ethique Bakery</li><li dir="ltr" fr-original-style="" style="box-sizing: border-box;">I go to Lokanta Kru when I want to eat something vegan on the go, and to Grotesk when I want a quick chat.</li><li dir="ltr" fr-original-style="" style="box-sizing: border-box;">A flavor I searched for but couldn't find: a plant-based kumpir.</li><li dir="ltr" fr-original-style="" style="box-sizing: border-box;">Only the gastronome vegan knows this shop: I don't know the vegan part, but I'm sure most people don't know about it except gastronomes: Prasini Papia.</li><li dir="ltr" fr-original-style="" style="box-sizing: border-box;">In the neighborhood, you can find me after midnight in the next door, Sail Loft.</li></ul>

The ones under the ground are traveling inside rectangular boxes, buried in the screens in their palms. On this stratum, they differentiate from one another as the ones who disembark, who get on, who give their seats, who follow another’s book pages with their glance, who raise their voice to the one who is already aloud, who chafe at swinging legs, who take their tongues out to the kid across, who give out sound music from their headphones, who are humming the song they are listening to, filling the train car with the stinky food they had eaten. They unite when it comes to waiting for the announcement of the station they would get off. On the surface, those on the terra firma are in a rush. They stop on the red, cross on the yellow, accelerate on the green, walk amongst the high-rise buildings, and race against the time not to be late to classes, meetings, rendez-vous. <img src="https://s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/images.aposto.com/2023/0/1/1674462527112.jpeg" style="display: block; vertical-align: top; margin: 5px auto; text-align: center; width: 100%; max-width: 550px; border-style: none; position: relative; cursor: pointer; padding: 0px 1px; box-sizing: border-box;" width="550" ratio="0.67" fr-original-style="display: block; vertical-align: top; margin: 5px auto; text-align: center; width: 100%; max-width: 550px;" fr-original-class="fr-draggable"><h4 fr-original-style="text-align: center;" style="text-align: center; margin: 0px; color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.85); font-weight: 500; padding: 0px; box-sizing: border-box;">Gayrettepe</h4><hr fr-original-style="" style="height: 0px; overflow: visible; border-bottom: none; clear: both; user-select: none; break-after: page; box-sizing: border-box;">The ones above are stacked behind sealed windows, sitting around a round table connecting to other zones, skies, and seasons. The sound reaches nine hours ahead with a delay of a few seconds. “Could you repeat the last sentence?”, asks the one taking notes.&nbsp;On the second floor, cards are distributed on the axis of the elliptical table, the maid gets old, the eights get crazy, and those who are ready to win the rummy kiss their dices of luck.&nbsp;On the forth - button 3 with the elevator - floor, the celeriac is roasting in the oven; because there is no tahini, the dressing is soy.&nbsp;At the downhill, the beer is being brewed in the factory. Triple-cooked potatoes would be toothsome with it. The handbags are removed from wooden chairs on the corner of the street because friends join the squad. Bean salad with red onions is passing through the table while bread pieces float in the salad dressing.&nbsp;This is an ordinary, habitual, usual, accustomed day in Gayrettepe.Hazal

Neighborhood: Gayrettepe. A local and the narrator: Ceyda Artun.

📍 Gayrettepe, Ceyda Artun

A weekly journal of neighbourhoods to dig into urban culture, people stories, and sociocultural dynamics. In every issue, we meet an inhabitant in their hood where they live, create or belong.

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📍 Gayrettepe, Ceyda Artun