Originally published in Turkish in the Fall 2020 issue of 1+1 Express, this article was written during my first six months in Glasgow in the summer of 2020. Intended as a piece about the city, it unexpectedly became a reflection on isolation during the pandemic.
I arrived in Glasgow at the end of January 2020, seeking a fresh start. "What fresh start at 55?" one might ask. My answer: I don't know. For a long time, I had suffered in "New Turkey," as the regime likes to call it. I felt a deep connection to the "Old Turkey" of the past. It seemed as though everything I cherished was slipping away. All I could do was write, draw, and make low-budget films... The futility and helplessness were debilitating. I yearned for a break. And Glasgow welcomed me, a weary soul, with its Glaswegian warmth. It was love at first sight.
Legend has it that a Scottish boy, seeing Glasgow for the first time years ago, was so awestruck that he returned to his village exclaiming, "There's no sky there; they've covered the whole city in glass!" It seems he never ventured beyond Central Station, a colossal 19th-century glass edifice. While I, hailing from the bustling metropolis of Istanbul, didn't experience such shock, I still found much to admire and enjoy.
Glasgow has been a significant part of the Scottish Enlightenment since the 18th century. Glasgow University, founded in the 15th century, has contributed to this rich intellectual history. Many figures revered as "English" in Turkey, particularly scientists and artists, actually come from Scotland, with Glasgow as a notable source. The city's streets and squares are adorned with statues of poets, writers, thinkers, and scientists, often outnumbering those of politicians or military figures.
Once a bustling global port on the banks of the Clyde River, Glasgow was the second-largest city in Britain during the 19th century. It thrived on shipbuilding, textiles, chemicals, and metalwork. In fact, John Berger noted in "On the Bosphorus" that one of the old steamboats he boarded in Istanbul was built in Glasgow. However, the rise of larger ships that couldn't navigate the river led to the decline of maritime trade in the 1950s. As global industry shifted to Germany and Japan, Glasgow faced severe unemployment and urban decay.
In recent decades, the city has undergone a remarkable transformation, revitalized through investment and development. The descendants of shipyard workers now occupy white-collar positions. Gentrification has reshaped significant parts of the city, with ongoing renewal projects. Yet, remnants of its industrial past remain, visible in the Victorian architecture of sandstone tenement houses, public buildings, bridges, and churches.
Pre-pandemic, Glasgow boasted a vibrant theater scene, hosting renowned bands that rarely toured Istanbul. Its museums were always bustling. In a move unimaginable in Turkey, disused churches were repurposed as cultural hubs, complete with bars, theaters, and meeting rooms.
While income inequality persists, as it does globally, I've read that some parts of Glasgow rank among the poorest in Britain. I haven't personally visited these areas yet. My time in Glasgow has been curtailed by the pandemic, limiting my exploration to a small radius. Soon after my arrival, the city, like much of the world, entered lockdown.
Upon my arrival, a Scottish friend gifted me "111 Places in Glasgow That You Shouldn't Miss." I eagerly embarked on exploring the city, ticking off each item on the list. However, the looming threat of the pandemic, initially perceived as a distant issue, rapidly escalated. By mid-March, Glasgow, ahead of Turkey, implemented stricter hygiene and social distancing measures. On March 23rd, a full lockdown was imposed. Confined to my home, Glasgow shrank to the dimensions of my bedroom, living room, kitchen, bathroom, and backyard. An invisible danger lurked outside.
Before the pandemic and my move to Glasgow, I was already somewhat of a homebody. Living on Büyükada, a tranquil Istanbul island, I often found solace in solitude, spending most of my time at my desk, either working on a film or simply enjoying a quiet moment.
When the quarantine began, initial fear and anxiety gave way to a profound longing for the outside world. Being 3,000 kilometers away, I missed my old life in Istanbul, my family, friends, and even those I'd distanced myself from. I yearned for the Bosphorus, the ferry rides, my favorite restaurants, our little house, our cat—everything.
I also missed Glasgow. I missed the charming, toy-like subway, its single line circling the city center. I missed the vibrant, free museums, the historic university with its sprawling 12-story library (the English Literature section alone is a library in its own right), the serene parks, and the riverside walks. I missed the humble Scots, always willing to go the extra mile to provide directions. I missed the bustling pubs, cafes, restaurants, and the vibrant city life. Of course, Glasgow has its flaws, but it's the good things that one misses the most.
Humans are remarkably adaptable. We've learned to survive in the harshest conditions, from the polar regions to the ocean depths, even near active volcanoes. Similarly, we adapted to the constraints of quarantine. We grew accustomed to masks, hand sanitizers, avoiding physical contact, social distancing, and meticulous hygiene routines, including disinfecting surfaces and sanitizing groceries.
In 2015, during a previous period of creative stagnation, I created a series of sketches titled "Garden of Oddities." This time, I've turned to daily sketching, a series I've dubbed "Masks." While my reading habits have been curtailed, I've found solace in creative outlets like cooking experiments and virtual conversations. I've also taken on new writing projects, developing two TV series proposals and a screenplay set in Glasgow. Additionally, I've facilitated online writing workshops, a rewarding experience that has both honed my teaching skills and provided a sense of social connection.
Prolonged isolation can unearth long-buried memories, both positive and negative. Despite being thousands of miles away from my homeland, confined to a one-bedroom flat, I've been haunted by past mistakes and injustices. A desire to seek out those I've wronged and offer apologies has surfaced. Conversely, resentment towards those who've wronged me has also resurfaced. The irony is that as I grapple with these past transgressions, my plans for a new beginning have been suspended. Perhaps my mind clings to the past as a way to maintain stability in the face of an uncertain future.
With a quiet determination, we ventured out into the deserted streets. I began taking long walks, initially circling the neighborhood, then gradually venturing further afield. The early morning walks were particularly striking, the streets eerily empty, reminiscent of a dystopian film set. Closed shops, absent traffic, and silent intersections created a surreal atmosphere. A banner draped across a bridge proclaimed, "Glasgow Endures," a poignant message in the face of adversity. The absence of traditional advertising allowed space for alternative messages, such as "Capitalism Kills" and "Every Age Has Its Own Fascism."
Despite the harsh winter, spring arrived with surprising vigor. The sun shone brightly, and trees burst into bloom. Yet, the city remained largely deserted. Occasionally, a lone jogger or a woman comforting a baby at a window would break the silence. It was a dreamlike existence, a city for one. I meticulously explored the city's two closest parks and the surrounding neighborhoods, committing every street and alleyway to memory. For four months, I relied solely on foot power, eschewing public transportation.
The global pandemic continues to rage, with new variants and uncertainty casting a long shadow. Yet, Scotland seems to be emerging from the crisis. Deaths have dwindled, cases have significantly reduced, and the Scottish First Minister, Nicola Sturgeon, has provided clear and consistent updates. While the threat of resurgence remains, the Scottish public has largely adhered to guidelines, including travel restrictions.
Despite ongoing precautions, Glasgow has returned to a semblance of normalcy. Parks, markets, and shopping streets are bustling with activity. Though the pandemic and its associated fears may not be entirely eradicated, the post-apocalyptic atmosphere of those quiet spring mornings will forever be etched in my memory.
I hope to fully immerse myself in Glasgow's vibrant culture and explore its hidden corners. Perhaps my Glasgow-set screenplay will one day be realized, marking a true beginning to my new life in this city.
