This article is from the source 'guardian' and was first published or seen on . It last changed over 40 days ago and won't be checked again for changes.
You can find the current article at its original source at https://www.theguardian.com/cities/2016/jul/13/alaskan-cellist-cello-bach-istanbul-ferries-boat-travel-transport
The article has changed 2 times. There is an RSS feed of changes available.
Previous version
1
Next version
| Version 0 | Version 1 |
|---|---|
| Meet the Alaskan cellist who broke barriers by playing Istanbul's ferries | Meet the Alaskan cellist who broke barriers by playing Istanbul's ferries |
| (about 1 month later) | |
| I was on the boat back from Büyükada, an otherworldly island 75 minutes’ ferry ride from central Istanbul, when a scruffy blonde boy stepped on to the upper deck and planted a cello on the wooden floor. He was wearing cut-off jeans and a trucker cap, and his brow was shiny from the heat. It was hard to tell where he was from and what to expect. | I was on the boat back from Büyükada, an otherworldly island 75 minutes’ ferry ride from central Istanbul, when a scruffy blonde boy stepped on to the upper deck and planted a cello on the wooden floor. He was wearing cut-off jeans and a trucker cap, and his brow was shiny from the heat. It was hard to tell where he was from and what to expect. |
| The outward journey had been unpleasant: the boat was packed to the rafters and we stood the whole way, crammed in among fellow tourists looking to escape the heat of the city but instead sweltering in an overcrowded cabin. | The outward journey had been unpleasant: the boat was packed to the rafters and we stood the whole way, crammed in among fellow tourists looking to escape the heat of the city but instead sweltering in an overcrowded cabin. |
| The voyage home was far less fraught. We found a place on the upper deck where the breeze flowed freely, and stretched out on the wooden benches for a snooze in the afternoon sun. | The voyage home was far less fraught. We found a place on the upper deck where the breeze flowed freely, and stretched out on the wooden benches for a snooze in the afternoon sun. |
| It was already a beautiful setting, our ferry chugging slowly through the Sea of Marmara towards the Bosphorus, the vast waterway that runs through the centre of Istanbul. But when the cellist struck up the first notes of the prelude from Bach’s Suite No1 in G Major, it was like being transported into Walt Disney’s Fantasia. | It was already a beautiful setting, our ferry chugging slowly through the Sea of Marmara towards the Bosphorus, the vast waterway that runs through the centre of Istanbul. But when the cellist struck up the first notes of the prelude from Bach’s Suite No1 in G Major, it was like being transported into Walt Disney’s Fantasia. |
| Our surroundings were brought to life by their musical accompaniment. The other boats no longer laboured but glid elegantly past the sprawling cityscape. The wooded hills in the distance unfolded as if part of a stage set. Even the seagulls acquired a new air of majesty as they surfed the breeze alongside our ferry. | Our surroundings were brought to life by their musical accompaniment. The other boats no longer laboured but glid elegantly past the sprawling cityscape. The wooded hills in the distance unfolded as if part of a stage set. Even the seagulls acquired a new air of majesty as they surfed the breeze alongside our ferry. |
| The young man in question, I later learned, was called Jari Piper. A classically trained musician who grew up in Alaska, he moved to Istanbul in 2014 to join his older brother Ernie. For two years now, the 25-year-old has earned his keep by serenading commuters and tourists as they ride the city’s many ferries. | The young man in question, I later learned, was called Jari Piper. A classically trained musician who grew up in Alaska, he moved to Istanbul in 2014 to join his older brother Ernie. For two years now, the 25-year-old has earned his keep by serenading commuters and tourists as they ride the city’s many ferries. |
| Piper’s tales lift the lid on a side of Istanbul that few others get to glimpse. He has learned the inner workings of its public transport system, jostled with fellow buskers, forged unlikely friendships. And he has watched the collective mood of the city’s crowds rise and crash in parallel with Turkey’s recent waves of turmoil. | Piper’s tales lift the lid on a side of Istanbul that few others get to glimpse. He has learned the inner workings of its public transport system, jostled with fellow buskers, forged unlikely friendships. And he has watched the collective mood of the city’s crowds rise and crash in parallel with Turkey’s recent waves of turmoil. |
| In the early days, Piper struggled to negotiate the unwritten rules of working Istanbul’s ferries. On the first attempt, he and his brother – who plays guitar – picked an empty cabin, took out their instruments and broke into a song. After a minute, a man selling vegetable peelers came in and began shouting over them; they looked at each other, and began playing louder. | In the early days, Piper struggled to negotiate the unwritten rules of working Istanbul’s ferries. On the first attempt, he and his brother – who plays guitar – picked an empty cabin, took out their instruments and broke into a song. After a minute, a man selling vegetable peelers came in and began shouting over them; they looked at each other, and began playing louder. |
| Then a man with a dulcimer arrived and began hammering out a tune. “Everyone, including us, started laughing,” Piper recalls. “And we gave up. I was like, ‘OK Turkey, you win.’ We got pushed out really hard – and it took me a long time to move back on to the boats again.” | Then a man with a dulcimer arrived and began hammering out a tune. “Everyone, including us, started laughing,” Piper recalls. “And we gave up. I was like, ‘OK Turkey, you win.’ We got pushed out really hard – and it took me a long time to move back on to the boats again.” |
| Disheartened, for a year he played mainly on Istanbul street corners. He enjoyed it, but the money was not great and in winter it became too cold – for the spectators, if not the hardy Alaskan. | Disheartened, for a year he played mainly on Istanbul street corners. He enjoyed it, but the money was not great and in winter it became too cold – for the spectators, if not the hardy Alaskan. |
| The turning point came by fluke, when on a night out he met a Turkish musician called Hakkan, who plays the cajón (a South American drum box) and is high in the busking pecking order. After hearing Piper play, the “King of the Boats” took the American under his wing — and back on to the ferries. | The turning point came by fluke, when on a night out he met a Turkish musician called Hakkan, who plays the cajón (a South American drum box) and is high in the busking pecking order. After hearing Piper play, the “King of the Boats” took the American under his wing — and back on to the ferries. |
| It was a revelation: “On the street, in a really good hour, I could maybe make 60 lira (about £14),” Piper says. “But on a boat, even when I first started and was new to the public, I could make 150 an hour (£35) – which is like, huge. Huge!” | It was a revelation: “On the street, in a really good hour, I could maybe make 60 lira (about £14),” Piper says. “But on a boat, even when I first started and was new to the public, I could make 150 an hour (£35) – which is like, huge. Huge!” |
| Since then, he has earned all his money from playing just a few hours a week on the city ferries – which is also testament to the enduring importance of boat travel in Istanbul. Home to somewhere between 14 and 18 million people, road traffic in the city is unbearably bad. New metros are springing up, including the Marmaray rail line, which boasts the world’s deepest underwater railway tunnel (running under the Bosphorus, wincingly close to a major tectonic fault line) – but millions still choose to commute by boat. | Since then, he has earned all his money from playing just a few hours a week on the city ferries – which is also testament to the enduring importance of boat travel in Istanbul. Home to somewhere between 14 and 18 million people, road traffic in the city is unbearably bad. New metros are springing up, including the Marmaray rail line, which boasts the world’s deepest underwater railway tunnel (running under the Bosphorus, wincingly close to a major tectonic fault line) – but millions still choose to commute by boat. |
| The short ferry journeys – with views of Ottoman palaces, hilltop mosques and giant freighters rumbling between the Black Sea and the Mediterranean – are like a meditation break for those frazzled by the otherwise unstoppable pace of life in Istanbul. | The short ferry journeys – with views of Ottoman palaces, hilltop mosques and giant freighters rumbling between the Black Sea and the Mediterranean – are like a meditation break for those frazzled by the otherwise unstoppable pace of life in Istanbul. |
| The most lucrative lines are rumoured to be rife with racketeering, with sharp-elbowed musicians forcing out those without the right connections. Piper tends to stick to less fraught boats, though there are still pitfalls. Attendants often stop him from boarding when they spy the duck-egg blue of his cello case — or try to cut him-off mid-flow. “That’s the worst part of my day,” he says. “You’re just playing music, making people happy, and then security are like: ‘Go away!’” | The most lucrative lines are rumoured to be rife with racketeering, with sharp-elbowed musicians forcing out those without the right connections. Piper tends to stick to less fraught boats, though there are still pitfalls. Attendants often stop him from boarding when they spy the duck-egg blue of his cello case — or try to cut him-off mid-flow. “That’s the worst part of my day,” he says. “You’re just playing music, making people happy, and then security are like: ‘Go away!’” |
| Such scrapes have helped him bond with his fellow wayfarers, including a pair of Roma children, Gabriel and Gabriella, who play the accordion under the watchful eye of their grandmother. They like to hide with Piper when the boat turns around, to avoid having to get off and on again and pay a new fare. | Such scrapes have helped him bond with his fellow wayfarers, including a pair of Roma children, Gabriel and Gabriella, who play the accordion under the watchful eye of their grandmother. They like to hide with Piper when the boat turns around, to avoid having to get off and on again and pay a new fare. |
| Navigating the passengers is a whole other challenge. Turkey is facing one of the most troubled times in its recent history. In the south-east of the country, a bloody war is raging between the Kurdistan Workers’ Party (PKK) and the state. A series of suicide bombings by Kurdish groups and Isis have hit towns and cities across the country. Tourism has plummeted, while the political debate is increasingly fraught and intolerant. | Navigating the passengers is a whole other challenge. Turkey is facing one of the most troubled times in its recent history. In the south-east of the country, a bloody war is raging between the Kurdistan Workers’ Party (PKK) and the state. A series of suicide bombings by Kurdish groups and Isis have hit towns and cities across the country. Tourism has plummeted, while the political debate is increasingly fraught and intolerant. |
| Piper has twice been kicked off by fellow passengers for playing too soon after bombings – accused of frippery in the face of darkness even though, as he puts it, “music and fun aren’t exactly the same thing”. | Piper has twice been kicked off by fellow passengers for playing too soon after bombings – accused of frippery in the face of darkness even though, as he puts it, “music and fun aren’t exactly the same thing”. |
| In March, after a suicide bombing near Istanbul’s central Taksim Square had killed five and wounded dozens, he decided to begin with an expression of sympathy and a few words about seeking solace in music. He was met with a round of applause. | In March, after a suicide bombing near Istanbul’s central Taksim Square had killed five and wounded dozens, he decided to begin with an expression of sympathy and a few words about seeking solace in music. He was met with a round of applause. |
| Piper says he has learnt to pick out the different characters from watching as he plays. “Sometimes there’ll be an old, super-conservative couple across from me, so much so that they won’t even acknowledge my existence.” He once had a man stand up and angrily declare that no one understood his stupid music, before loudly storming out. | Piper says he has learnt to pick out the different characters from watching as he plays. “Sometimes there’ll be an old, super-conservative couple across from me, so much so that they won’t even acknowledge my existence.” He once had a man stand up and angrily declare that no one understood his stupid music, before loudly storming out. |
| But on the good days, he finds that playing music in public spaces lifts the invisible barrier between strangers in a city where it is rare even to smile at a passer-by, let alone talk to them. “I’ve met friends, girlfriends, random people, creeps,” he says. “But mostly, really nice people. You open yourself up to the world when you’re playing the ferries here.” | But on the good days, he finds that playing music in public spaces lifts the invisible barrier between strangers in a city where it is rare even to smile at a passer-by, let alone talk to them. “I’ve met friends, girlfriends, random people, creeps,” he says. “But mostly, really nice people. You open yourself up to the world when you’re playing the ferries here.” |
| Follow Guardian Cities on Twitter and Facebook and join the discussion | Follow Guardian Cities on Twitter and Facebook and join the discussion |
Previous version
1
Next version