Istanbul Restaurants: Where The Turks Eat

The book that’s been a project for 3 years is set to come out. I’m going to start putting up lots of pictures from my research trips to Istanbul in celebration of finally, finally finishing this work.

The first photo I ever took in Istanbul.

I didn’t know it at the time, but virtually every shop, cafe, and business of any sort has a picture of this man: Kemal Mustafa Ataturk. After doing lots of research on his life, I can see why he’s celebrated as the greatest statesman the country of Turkiye has ever known.

A brief history of Ataturk:


About RL Reeves Jr

I'm a writer living and working in New Orleans, Louisiana.
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2 Responses to Istanbul Restaurants: Where The Turks Eat

  1. RL Reeves Jr says:

    “A writer is someone who spends years patiently trying to discover the second being inside him, and the world that makes him who he is: when I speak of writing, what comes first to my mind is not a novel, a poem, or literary tradition, it is a person who shuts himself up in a room, sits down at a table, and alone, turns inward; amid its shadows, he builds a new world with words. This man – or this woman – may use a typewriter, profit from the ease of a computer, or write with a pen on paper, as I have done for 30 years. As he writes, he can drink tea or coffee, or smoke cigarettes. From time to time he may rise from his table to look out through the window at the children playing in the street, and, if he is lucky, at trees and a view, or he can gaze out at a black wall. He can write poems, plays, or novels, as I do. All these differences come after the crucial task of sitting down at the table and patiently turning inwards. To write is to turn this inward gaze into words, to study the world into which that person passes when he retires into himself, and to do so with patience, obstinacy, and joy. As I sit at my table, for days, months, years, slowly adding new words to the empty page, I feel as if I am creating a new world, as if I am bringing into being that other person inside me, in the same way someone might build a bridge or a dome, stone by stone. The stones we writers use are words. As we hold them in our hands, sensing the ways in which each of them is connected to the others, looking at them sometimes from afar, sometimes almost caressing them with our fingers and the tips of our pens, weighing them, moving them around, year in and year out, patiently and hopefully, we create new worlds.”
    ― Orhan Pamuk

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