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Published: June 16th 2014
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Mardin, South Eastern Anatolya, Turkey
14th June 2014
“Yesterday is history. Tomorrow is mystery. Today is a gift. That's why its called the present.” Mardin is one of those places that builds expectation as the
dolmus I am in climbs the hill to the old city. The distant hill top is adorned with stone ruins and as we get closer to the old city I site the detail in the ornate stonework of the houses.
The place, together with Venice and Jerusalem, is claimed to have the best preserved architecture in the world (but I do wonder if that claim is Europe-centric and if it properly considers all the places in India?). It is over 7,000 years old with a rich history, as part of the silk route and the fertile Mesopotamian Plain, and is a renowned centre of silver-smithing (
telkari).
Mardin looks down over the Mesopotamian Plain and Syria and is not that far from Mosul in Iraq. So there is also a sense of proximity to some pretty heavy war action which up to now had always just been a news headline in some remote part
of the globe. It is also firmly in ethnic Kurdistan.
I get off and start slowly walking towards the main market area. I find no advertising for hotels, including the few cheap ones whose names I had gleaned from other traveler's guide books in the days leading up to me coming here. Not a good sign... they are obviously just not desperate for business or simply not interested or both.
So I find myself hoping that someone is going to approach me and hassle me a little so that I can get a clue about where to go. I need a hawker (and I thought I would never be caught saying that). But...... no-one...... not a soul. I walk along and take my pot luck down quieter alleys with a vision in my head that they are going to lead to a cheap hotel. Its a veritable labyrinth. I find one.... very cheap by the looks of it. There is an old man sitting asleep who drearily awakens as I enter. He knows not a word of English but I would have thought that my gestures make it abundantly clear that I am interested in a room. Perhaps
he might have gotten up and shown me something and indicated a price. But he just asks questions that make no sense to me with my next to nil Turkish. I walk out muttering: “well, I don't think you are that interested in any business today, so.....”
I find another hotel but the lobby drips of wealth and in any case they are full so I am spared being told the price. I am motioned to go up the road about 150 metres to find Basak Otel (ah.... a familiar name at last). I don't find it. I get lost in the backstreet maze and several locals along the way motion me on when I ask “
otel?”, but I just get more lost. I find a rather posh looking place but the signage has nothing to indicate it being a hotel. I am busting to use a
tuvalet and so I enter the courtyard and use theirs. On exiting a bouncer straight out of some gangland movie confronts me with a very threatening look and with his little English makes it very clear that this is not an
otel and that he wants me out immediately. No drama, I
got what I came for.
Again lost I eventually find my way back to the market. The buildings and streets are ancient along the way, through solid stone tunnels and past medieval doorways, and I am looking forward to wandering around later. At last I find someone who motions me towards Basak Otel.
Shermus (the owner) is grim and I try and lighten him up with repartee. I am shown a room the size of shoe box and told the price is 40 lira. The bathroom is down the hall. In response to the price I comment: “where are we, New York? Paris? … you want 40 lira for this?”. Eventually we strike a deal at 35 lira if I stay 3 nights. And at last I get a smile out of him. The room is actually very clean …. bed, linen, and the bathroom also. It's light and airy and has a good view. OK.... I do have to play with the wall fan mechanism so it does not bang..... and I also have to go scout around for a curtain and put it up so that I have both privacy and shade from the afternoon sun.
But the place has good and free wi-fi which is always a bonus. And it has a terrace perfect for my morning yoga.
I wander out and notice that I am in tourist mecca filled mainly with rich Turks (who probably have all been to Mecca). I am hungry so I slip down a side street away from the pricey looking establishments on the main drag. I find just the sort of place I was looking for, run by a guy named Zakir. I have a great lunch and a bit of a Turkish lesson (and he English) and go back to my room for a nap.
All is well with the world..... for now. Well, now is as good as it need be, no?
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D MJ Binkley
Dave and Merry Jo Binkley
Wanting a hawker
Desperate times are afoot when you are actually thinking you want or need a hawker. Like the looks of this town. Enjoy exploring.