Istanbul, 1959. Fanis's flavorful childhood was mostly about the spice shop run by his grandfather. Spices are not only an indispensable addition to food, but also the astronomical enlightenment education he received, and even the truth of life. He learns delicious Turkish cuisine and meets his first and dearest girlfriend, Saime. He cooks and she dances.
Finally, Fanis had to leave.
The Turks drove us away, saying we were Greeks; the Greeks took us in, but regarded us as Turks.
Athens, 1964. Life for Fanis in Greece was not smooth. He misses his grandfather, misses his dearest girlfriend, misses Istanbul. It is difficult for him to integrate into Greek life. He only plays Istanbul's housekeeping game with girls, cooks Turkish cuisine, lives in the bathroom, and even wants to secretly return to Istanbul.
Finally back to Istanbul. The city is still beautiful, with churches, mosques, boats sailing in the Bosphorus, old men fishing on the Eurasian bridge. The grandfather left forever; at the funeral, the red umbrella is still bright, but people can't go back to the past.
The name of the movie is about the spice, but the content is about the hometown. This hometown is Istanbul. Grandpa, father, Fanis, they are all Greeks, they all believe in the Orthodox Church, and their hometown is Istanbul. Grandpa never left in his life, he didn't want to leave at all, even if his relatives and friends were far away in Athens. Father and Fanis are gone, but the wounds of exile never heal. Not immediately rejecting the immigration officer's suggestion to convert to Islam and stay in Istanbul became a lingering nightmare for the father. And Fanis, returning again may be the cure for this scar.
Istanbul for the Greeks, Istanbul for the Turks. Their entanglement probably began when Mehmed II took the city from Balleolus. And the turmoil has continued, and Northern Cyprus is still the most sensitive issue in Greek politics. There is no right or wrong in conquering exile, but as one of the directors, it is commendable that the director can try his best to restrain or show these problems implicitly.
The cinematography of the film is very beautiful and the vistas of Istanbul are as beautiful as oil paintings. The music is even better. There are two styles of music, Turkish and Greek. Obviously, I prefer the Turkish flavor. The song calling Muslims to pray in the morning is impressive.
The wounds of exile may be difficult to heal, like the constant clipping of homesickness. But after all, time is the medicine that heals everything. After a thousand years, Istanbul may be the same.
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