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Published: October 25th 2005
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I arrived in Istanbul the morning of the 14th after an all night bus ride from Thessaloniki. My first "real" border crossing went smoothly enough, as Turkey is kind enough to allow tourists to buy their entry visas at border checkpoints for $20.
After negotiating my way out of the most massive bus station I've ever had the (dis)pleasure of passing through, I took a combination of metro and tram lines to the heart of Old Istanbul, Sultanahmet. Within this relatively small area are Aya Sofia, the Blue Mosque, Topkapi Palace, and, conveniently, all the hostels.
It wasn't long after I arrived that I heard for the first time the call to prayer. I wasn't sure right away what I was hearing, as the prayer chant seemed more musical than I had thought about it being. It also sounded a little bit like Tarzan. These prayers, blasted all over town from loudspeakers affixed to Istanbul's numerous minarets, are one of the daily reminders in what often feels like a European city that I'm not quite in Europe anymore. (Though technically, the part of Istanbul where I've spent most of my time is on the European continent. The Bosphorus Strait
divides the city into European and Asian halves.)
My first few days here, I was caught up with all the tourist attractions. Aya Sophia was a Byzantine church built some 1500 years ago. It was the largest in the world at the time. At the time of the Muslim conquest, it was converted into a mosque. In practice, from what I noticed, this meant attaching some minarets to the building and hanging large Arabic scripts around the interior. Mosaics of Christ, the Virgin, and other Christian figures were left intact around the inside of the church/mosque. Nowadays, the place is a museum and is not used for worship.
Almost literally right next to Aya Sophia is the Blue Mosque. It's one of the more famous (and larger) mosques in a city where it seems as if every sultan had to outdo his predecessor by building a huge new place of worship. (This is an exaggeration, of course, but there really are a lot of mosques. It gives the city a very unique skyline.) The Blue Mosque has a whopping six minarets.
As I was tiring of shuttling between museums, mosques, and palaces, I met Mathias, a guy
from Argentina, with whom I went on a few walking tours through less touristed parts of the city. At this point though, I should mention Orhan Pamuk, whose memoir "Istanbul" I've read since being here in his home city.
Pamuk is Turkey's best known author. I initially found him overly gloomy and depressing. During the day I would run around gaping at all the fabulous old buildings, then at night read Pamuk talking about what a melancholy and broken-down city Istanbul is. I can best illustrate with a quote from his book:
". . . in Istanbul the remains of a glorious past and civilisation are everywhere visible. No matter how ill-kept they are, no matter how neglected or hemmed in they are by concrete monstrosities, the great mosques and other monuments of the city, as well as the lesser detritus of empire in every side street and corner . . . inflict heartache on all who live amongst them.
These are nothing like the remains of great empires to be seen in Western cities, preserved like museums of history and proudly displayed. The people of Istanbul simply carry on with their lives amongst the ruins. Many
Above the Golden Horn
Istanbul/Constantinople/Byzantium has been such an important city in history thanks in part to its location on the Bosphorus, the waterway connecting the Black Sea to the Sea of Marmara and eventually the Mediterranean. It also has the famous natural port known as the Golden Horn. Western travellers find this charming. But for the city's more sensitive and attuned residents, these ruins are reminders that the present city is so poor and confused that it can never again dream of rising to the same heights of wealth, power, and culture." (p. 91)
Shortly after reading this and similar passages, I began to encounter first hand this other face of the city. Wandering through backstreets with Mathias for two days, I saw many more decrepit buildings, more litter, and a lot less prettiness than is evident around Sultanahmet. On some of the market streets we passed through, the tiny roads were so choked with cars, vans, and peddlers with carts that even on foot we couldn't move anywhere. There certainly seems to exist an Istanbul apart from that which is geared towards tourists, and once I had a taste of it for myself, I started to understand where Pamuk is coming from when he talks about Istanbul's "end of empire melancholy."
In an interesting side story, Pamuk is about to be on trial here in Istanbul for "making a statement that 'explicitly insults' the Turkish state." The statement in question has to do with his acknowledgement of the killings of Kurds and Armenians that occurred, respectively, in the 1980s and 1990s and following the first World War. It is an interesting case for a prosecutor to bring against the famous author as Turkey is just entering into talks that the Turkish government hopes will end (eventually) with their country's accesion to the European Union.
I'm sure I've sufficiently bored some of my readers with my digressions, but I wouldn't want anyone to think I'm just vacationing. I'm reading, making notes, keeping up with the news. Anyway, I'll wrap it up for now about Istanbul, and allow myself the option of adding some concluding thoughts before I leave the city for good.
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Mathias
non-member comment
Muy bueno!
Hey Brandon! Your weblog is amazing! I really liked it. I agree with you in your description of the city and what the author says. I hope Turkey can bring massive investment after joining the EU a rebuilt the older part of the city. I wish you all the very best. I will keep in touch. Matias