Greetings from Turkey! I write to you from the reliable wi-fi in my comfortable, relatively furnished apartment in Ankara. Most of this post, however, will deal with the week I've just spent in Istanbul, where I went immediately after entering the country.
And what can I say? Istanbul is vast, chaotic, advanced, primitive, exhilarating and overwhelming. More than anything, it felt like the modern Western city which most Istabullus so desperately want it to be. I will spend much of my time in this post detailing my travels through what is largely "historical Istanbul"--mosques and palaces that, while not irrelevant to the modern inhabitant of this city, certainly stand out much more to the tourist. But I could not penetrate in a true sense the living reality of Istanbul as the home of some twenty million people, if only because I was just passing through. I could not shake the sense of...I'll call it "self-confidence"...that this city seems to exude. Istanbul has a modern, if somewhat congested, transportation system. You can purchase every kind of good imaginable there, whether in the crowded bazaar or in designer outlets on streets that wouldn't look out of place in the capitals of Western Europe. And Istanbul's youth, clad largely in jeans and knockoffs of Western name-brands, parade through the streets much like they do anywhere else, flirting, texting, showing off a little skin, making their moves over a cup of coffee, a puff of nargileh, a glass of Efes pilsner.
There is a bit of desperation in this Westernization, to be sure, and a bit of defensiveness as to the progress Istanbul has made on this front. When some of my fellow travelers commented on the many cafes in Istanbul that seem to be male-only (by social contract, not law), our hostel-owner, a man in his late twenties, protested against our apparent stereotypes. "You come here expecting to see men treating women badly, women wearing headscarves, men and women separate, and that's what you see because to want to see it!" he said, basically. "We are a normal city--just like any other!" he claimed. This wasn't really true--Istanbul's Islamic identity was very much on display, in part because it's Ramadan. About three quarters of the city was fasting, I would guess, and there were plenty of folks trooping off for the mosque at prayer-time. Plenty of restaurants don't offer alcohol, and there was undeniable evidence, despite what our hostel-owner claimed, that gender segregation occurs to a greater extent than in the West. But he was right, as well: Istanbul is a city unto itself, and while perhaps it's not yet interchangeable with Vienna or Munich, it can't simply be lumped in with Jerusalem, Damascus and Beirut as great cities of the Near East. It is a Western city.
The outcome of this is that whereas places like Jerusalem's Old City, which I visited in 2008, seem to be oriented towards the outside, towards tourists and pilgrims, and are quiet places of their own accord, Istanbul (and, in way, much of Turkey) is inward-facing. They're happy to have tourists, willing to try to communicate, but (as I discovered, somewhat to my surprise) they're not falling over themselves to learn English, even though it's certainly the lingua franca for non-Turkish speakers. They're happy to chat with an young American stranger on their busy streets, and they'll even invite him to a local cafe for a beer. But otherwise, you can stand on Istiklal Caddesi, "the heart of modern Turkey," and watch as a culture dying to join the West careens by you at breakneck speed.
So what did I did amongst this milieu? Become a tourist, naturally. Istanbul is not merely home to a burgeoning population of cosmopolitan, would-be Westerners. It also is home to not one but two great empires, and their remains all but scream at you as you pass through the city streets. I arrived in the early evening off a train from Ankara, and as I rode the ferry from the station on the Asian side of the Bosphorus, the city's landmarks came at me fast and furious. There's the Topkapi Palace! And there, the Blue Mosque! Galata Tower! I had studied Ottoman architecture under Gulru Necipoglu at Harvard, and I'd read my guidebook thoroughly, so I knew what to look for. The below image, featuring the Turkish flag obscuring the Sultan Ahmed Mosque (also known as the Blue Mosque) just about sums up Turkey for me in many ways:
I arrived at my first hostel, Rapunzel, after about an hour's search around the Galata Tower in Beyoglu--they're a new place, and hadn't yet put up a prominent sign. I spent much of that evening, after depositing my bags and grabbing a quick dinner, wandering around Beyoglu, the district most associated with cosmopolitan, modern Istanbul. After a somewhat sweaty night--no AC, just a fan in the room--I woke up to discover that I had no place to stay the next night, as Rapunzel had been booked solid for Friday night. No problem--I ended up finding a room at Hostelon, which was a few streets away, even cheaper, just as comfortable, and--this is crucial--had free AC in every room! Brilliant.
I won't try to do a day-by-day recapitulation of the week's travels, since even now I can't quite remember what I did each day. But here are the highlights:
Topkapi Palace: The imperial home of Ottoman sultanate for centuries, the Topkapi is a massive palace at the point where the Golden Horn spills north out of the Bosphorus (and yes, it's featured in a 1964 heist film, also called Topkapi). Professor Necipoglu taught us that the three-court design of Topkapi was intended to provide seclusion for the sultan and his family, and to enhance his imperial majesty. You begin in the outer court, which was almost public, open to a wide variety of Imperial servants and minor functionaries. For the middle court, which housed the Imperial Council and the kitchens, and served as a parade ground for the janissaries, access was more restricted. And nobody except the Sultan's family, his bodyguards, and his most exalted guests, was allowed into the inner sanctum, or into the Harem, which straddled the second and third courts. Nowadays, with tourists buzzing around every corner, the sense of majesty, not to mention seclusion, is understandably diminished. Still, it was great to see my Ottoman history studies come to life--here is Suleyman's European-style helmet! Here's his chair, inlaid not with gold or emeralds, but with a simple mother-of-pearl pattern, from his more restrained, pious days!
Sultan Ahmed Mosque (the "Blue Mosque"): This is a highlight of all trips to Istanbul, on account of the mosque's magnitude. From Professor Necipoglu, I know that the mosque's building was frowned upon for its audacity (six minarets!). Sultans were only supposed to build themselves mosques after a major military victory, booty from which would finance the mosque's construction. But not only had Sultan Ahmed not won anything significant, he was losing ground in both Europe and Iran! Finally, the building of the Blue Mosque, a massive complex on prime real estate in Istanbul, necessitated the destruction of older, smaller mosques in its way. Regardless, this is a breathtaking work of architecture, and while one might sneer as an art historian, it's impossible but to stare as a tourist or casual observer.
Suleymaniye Mosque: The true pinnacle of Ottoman architecture...and I couldn't even get in! The mosque has been closed for three and a half years for renovations, apparently, although it will open in the fall. I saw the inside of Suleyman's tomb, though, which was pretty spectacular:
Chora Church: This was a hike...that is, I decided to make it a hike. Most people take buses or taxis out to the northern edge of Istanbul to see this Byzantine church. I, being mistrustful of buses and too cheap to take a taxi, walked. About an hour and a half later, I found this hidden gem, covered in beautiful mosaics. Pro tip: If you eavesdrop on a tour, you get all the benefits of the information they're giving without having to pay for the guide or walk as slowly as the octogenarians who did pay.
Istanbul Modern: As the boys from Monty Python would say, "And now for something completely different." This is, a friend told me, basically Istanbul's attempt at London's Tate Modern...a modern art museum along the Bosphorus. I actually enjoyed it greatly, although naturally some of the art went way over my head (proof that I'm not sufficiently enlightened, I suppose). The exhibit of
Hussein Chalayan's fashion designs was, despite my contempt for the modern fashion industry, mindblowing. His infusion of technology into high fashion is something I'm sure we'll see in the next 10-15 years in clothing that people actually wear. Do I like it? Hard to say, but I think there's little doubt that he'll be influential. Right next to the museum was an installation of the famous BodyWorks exhibit, but at 30TL I decided to pass.
Dolmabahce Palace: Apparently not satisfied with the cultural clashes inherent in an Turkish fashion exhibit, I headed next door to the Dolmabahce Palace, truly a multicultural clusterfuck. Built in the mid-19th century using European money (the Ottoman empire was in great debt by then) and a wholly European aesthetic, it would have looked more appropriate as a Louis XIV pleasure palace. This was the imperial capital for decades leading up to the fall of the empire and the relocation of the capital to Ankara. Inside: so hot. So very, very hot. Our guide's English was terrible, and he clearly had memorized just a few factoids about the place, and just a few phrases with which to express them. We were led through a sequence of lavishly decorated rooms (cameras were unfortunately forbidden) that began to blend together in my head as the tour went on and my claustrophobia intensified. Luckily, there were peacocks outdoors, so that was cool.
Prince's Islands: Just southeast of Istanbul in the Sea of Marmara lie four little Islands that make a great day trip from the city. The ferry stopped at two of them, but I only got off at the second, since nothing in particular was recommended at Kinaliada. Buyukada, where I stayed for several hours, is the biggest of the Islands, and is home to a giant hill. I climbed it. Sweating, thirsty, I arrived after half an hour to an empty glade at the top of the island, overlooking Istanbul. There, for a few blissful hours, I read my Stieg Larsson book, somewhat shamefully purchased at an English-language bookstore the day before. (The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo is, despite its book-jacket claims, not nearly as thrilling as it claims to be. Certainly a page-turner, but half of that is your anxious desire to find the thrilling parts. I feel like the book was basically Stieg Larsson, editor of a left-wing magazine, writing himself optimistically into the main character, a financial reporter who uncovers a massive business-mafia conspiracy, unearths a serial killer and screws a hot anorexic punk hacker). In any case, it was an afternoon peacefully spent. I had climbed the hill looking for the Greek Monastery of St. George which my guidebook had mentioned, but the directions weren't precise and I found myself wandering off the path. Five minutes walk from my reading spot, I did find a monastery, but my research today confirmed that it was a different one. I managed to get in and view the church after buzzing several times at the gate and waiting for a few minutes, after which a hunchbacked old man somewhat reluctantly let me in. The church is gaudy but fascinating, a little Greek Orthodox monstrosity hidden on a quaint Turkish island. Nearby there was a big old orphanage built at the turn of the century and now frightfully close to collapse. A few hundred yards down the road was a mostly abandoned soccer field, watched over by an old statue of what must have been an Ottoman dignitary. I think the Islands, especially Buyukada, were much wealthier and more cosmopolitan, home to a diverse group of ethnic minorities, a century ago. Now they are almost entirely Turkish, and poverty is creeping up along with a sense of abandonment. Before heading back to Istanbul, I had a delicious meal of fried mussels and lentil soup (mercimek).
Food: Now that I mention it, I should say that Istanbul's food was...pretty good. I was actually somewhat surprised to find that I didn't absolutely love Turkish food at first blush, seeing as I'd heard so much about it. A couple explanations come to mind: First, I had mainly street food, which nobody raves about too much. Still, I find that I prefer the Arabic shawarma to its Turkish cousin doner, and I miss the ubiquity of falafel. Second, and relatedly, I've been to the Arab world, which has a similar cuisine, so the concept of eating shaved lamb and lentil soup isn't totally foreign to me. I certainly didn't dislike the food, and certain meals, like the one on the docks of Buyukada which I mentioned above, definitely stand out. One thing I'm sure I disliked: raki, which just tastes too much like licorice for my tastes (no surprise, as they're both anise-based). Turks love their beer, too, and while I found the standy, Efes, a bit too Budweiser-like, I was pleasantly surprised by Gusta, an amber ale with a fruity, sweet finish.
And...that's about it! I returned on Wednesday evening to Ankara, and after about three hours of searching for the elusive Bilkent city shuttle, which never came, I taxied to the apartment. I have a stellar one-bedroom apartment on the first floor of Lojman 106, and as of yesterday, it is furnished. Or mostly so. I still need spice jars to store the saffron and cumin and whatnot I bought in a killer deal at the Spice Bazaar in Istanbul. And I still lack things like dishtowels and scrubbies, but I have food and soap and kitchen implements and all the really crucial things. This shopping was accomplished in one backbreaking trip, in which I walked the half-mile downhill to a Walmart-like complex, shopped 'til I dropped, and loaded up my hiker's backpack. Why my masochistic tendencies decided to act up then I'll never know, but instead of sensibly taking a bus or taxi up the hill, I decided to cart about 70 pounds up the hill at about 2:00 in the afternoon on a 90 degree day in Ankara. Suffice it to say I earned my salami-and-cheese sandwich yesterday. People are gradually trickling into the dorm, and I'll soon be greeting them, not to mention filling out forms, looking for MA classes to take, and all sorts of fun stuff. Training begins Monday morning. My first post-college job: here I come!
