kusadasi nights and spray cans

woke up to a sky full of stars or maybe just the exhaust from some construction truck who knows but i’m here now with a sketchbook and a half-empty can of paint. i didn’t plan to paint today but then i saw that blank wall outside the bakery with the cheerful turkish tiles and i couldn’t resist. maybe it’s the caffeine or maybe it’s that 15.38-degree chill biting at my bones but i’m going with the latter. i just checked and it’s that brisk kind of weather here, hoping you’re wrapped up like i am with half a beard and all my pockets full of stolen street fragments.

the neighbors here are… chaotic. like, the guy who fixes streetlights by day and paints murals at night once told me that all the pigeons here are secret dancers. i didn’t believe him until i saw one mid-pirouette last week. if you get bored here-or maybe even if you don’t-the aegean coast is basically your walking distance through parking lots. someone told me that the old theater might be getting torn down for a sparkly hotel. i didn’t ask for details but i did overhear a drunk tell a waiter that it’s already half built. who knows.

i heard that the local market here has this weird booth selling "dried yogurt jelly" and i might’ve bought one. it was balmy and smelled like nostalgia. a yelp review later mentioned it’s actually illegal to sell yogurt jelly in caps but who cares? it was a conversation starter. i also saw a sign for a street art tour that leads to a hidden courtyard with murals older than most people here. the ad was in decaying letters but still somehow readable. link to the board if you’re curious: https://tripadvisor.com/forum/viewtopic.php?f=123
however i’m pretty sure it’s just a trap to sell overpriced postcards.

now to the chaos. i tried to spray paint a cat on a van but the cat moved. classic Kusadasi. turned that into a half-finished symphony instead. there’s an img of me mid-sneeze beside a half-yellowed wall and another of a suspiciously perfect muffin tower that might or might not be a shrine to a local saint. third pic is a drone shot of the harbor by day, which looks nothing like the neon-lit jazz bars that pop up after sunset. the harbor img https://api.unsplash.com/search/photos?query=kusadasi&w=1080&q=80. wait no i meant the -

this place is a mosaic of contradictions. the air smells like rain and garlic bread. the market sells both handmade sandals and suspiciously plastic inferno masks. someone warned me about muggers near the ruins but i think that’s just a ghost story. or maybe not. the whispers here are louder than the sea. i asked a taxi driver if there were any good live music spots and he told me to ask the bar turtles. turns out they’re just accordion-playing shellfish? either way, they play until 3am and the cover is basically a line to a hot tub.

my plan was to find a quiet place to paint but instead i joined a crowd near a suspicious-looking soup stall. the guy selling it claimed it was "turkish medicinal wool sludge" and he wasn’t kidding. i tried it anyway and now i have a stomach full of existential dread. the soup img https://api.unsplash.com/search/photos?query=turkish-soup&w=1080&q=80. oh wait, that’s not a link. forget it.

i’m leaving tomorrow but not before some last-minute mischief. i think i’ll spray paint a question mark on the wall where the theater was mentioned. maybe it’s a secret code. or maybe it’s just silly. either way, someone will find it and wonder if i’m a ghost or just a bored tourist. either way, i’m labeling the can with "do not trust" in permanent marker. maybe add some stars? i don’t know anymore. this city doesn’t want answers. it just wants you to feel the chaos. goodbye, Kusadasi. thanks for the knots in my head and the pain in my toes. maybe next time i’ll wear socks. or maybe not.

kusadasi nights and spray cans

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About the author: Freya Holm

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