They say I am between the East and the West. An identity crisis! Whose? Mine or theirs? Enough of this nonsense. Take the labels off and look at me. Just look. — "The Voice of Istanbul", Gündüz Vassaf The Dolmabahçe Palace This was the governmental nucleus of the Ottoman Empire for much of the 19th and early 20th centuries. But you won’t find the unique, medieval aesthetics of the caliphate at the height of its power anywhere here — Dolmabahçe was very much built to mimic the style of European royal abodes during that period. So much so that one could argue the palace demonstrates just how keen the Ottomans were to stave off secular decline and keep up with their more modern European neighbours. It's a mashup of Baroque, Rococo, and Neoclassical elements. Or so I am told. All I know is that I muttered "these rich motherfuckers..." to myself a couple of times during my tour of the palace. Grand chambers and monarchical opulence for sure. But throwing millions of liras at foreign decor didn't cure the empire of being derided as the 'sick man of Europe'. And the rest, as they say, was history. The Topkapı Palace The dazzlingly lovely headquarters of the Ottoman sultans for many centuries, built only a few years after the Fall of Constantinople, and the doom of the Byzantine Empire, in 1453 at the hands of Mehmed the Conqueror. I believe that if you want to understand where Europeans got their Orientalist notions of exotic Eastern decadence from, it’s worth seeing places like this first-hand and considering how a western observer of the era would’ve reacted to it all. Viziers and eunuchs, gold and silk, harems and concubines, backstabbers and cat's-paws, sex and slavery, and rampant greed and cruelty in the guise of a complex imperial social order. This place is simply dripping with the facts and fictions of these oily, meaty imaginings. The Hagia Sofia Why yes, it’s everyone’s favourite piece of Byzantine architecture! The Hagia Sophia, if I dare say it, comes across a bit like a half-done homework project... if your school assignment required you to convert one of the largest engineering feats of late antiquity to another Abrahamic faith, that is. Very obvious Orthodox Christian bits are semi-overlaid by very obvious Islamic bits. The cathedral-to-mosque renovation looks a bit slapdash, although this is largely a side effect of its restoration and transformation into a secular museum under Mustafa Kemal. So is the Hagia Sophia a cathedral? Is it a mosque? Or is it a historical museum? When I was in Istanbul, it was still the third option, though at the time it was unclear for how much longer. Hooray for compromise... or so I thought. But then in July 2020, only a few months after I visited it, Turkish President Recep Tayyip Erdoğan redesignated the site as a mosque, triggering much domestic and international controversy. And some other nearby attractions... Close to the Hagia Sophia, I was also able to visit the twilight underworld of the Cisterna Basilica, the solemnly splendid Tomb of the Sultans, and the palatial Süleymaniye Mosque in the mizzle. The domed ceilings of Istanbul On these various visits, I spend a lot of time craning my head up at the Ottoman domed ceiling. I'm sure the future neck pain I'll have was a worthy price to pay for being able to peer directly upwards at such decorative beauty. And finally, the fantastic food of Turkey... Let's start with breakfast. Might I recommend an epic full-spread Turkish breakfast called ‘kahvalti’ (which literally translates to ‘before coffee’). Olives, eggs, spreads, dips, a suite of cheeses, and unlimited tea and bread. As you can imagine, I didn’t eat anything else for the rest of the day. Is this the greatest breakfast I’ve ever had? Yes. Absolutely yes. On other days, however, you'll need to fuel yourself in Istanbul with its irresistible street food. Depicted in the photos below are:
But save room for some fancier dinners and lunches as well. In the photographs below we have:
And at the end of the night, you'll surely crave dessert. Alas! Istanbul is a cruel and difficult place for people who just need an ice cream as quickly as possible. Below is a video I took of the famous dondurma vendor's act of teasing their customers who merely want a scoop of cold sugary goodness. You won’t need a guidebook. Like all cities, I have my own sense of time.
I am a labyrinth of layers that only makes sense without a compass. Trust me. Let yourself be, let yourself go. But be careful what you go away with. When you leave, all my empires, my religions, and passions will be your fertile soil wherever you go.
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Salaam Bombay! This post provides some assorted remarks on my visit to Mumbai, India’s largest city. I didn’t expect to enjoy this city as much, but I'm happy to report it's one of my favourite places in India. The history! The histrionics! The hardworking megacity hustle! Mumbai has all this and then some. Here is yours truly at the Gateway of India. It was completed in 1924 to commemorate the arrival of King George V, the first British monarch to visit India, in 1911. Originally a symbol of British conquest and power, it has now become perhaps the most famous tourist icon of Mumbai. Oh my. The relentless photography touts! The pigeons! The postcard and fridge magnet sellers! And don't forget the useless security checkpoint that was installed after the 2008 Mumbai terror attacks. O save us, British Raj! Come back and rule/ransack again! (Or actually, don't.) The photos below include my snaps of Marine Drive on a thankfully-not-too-smoggy day, the opulent Taj Hotel (where I had to go through a security checkpoint to sit at the Starbucks there), the handsome Rajabai Clock Tower and the homely Mumbai Stock Exchange, and the stunning Chhatrapati Shivaji Maharaj Terminus during the day and at night — undoubtedly the grandest train station building I’ve ever seen in my life. The old, austere British architecture of downtown Mumbai is wonderful to behold. That and how it contrasts with Mumbai’s frenetic energy (I was told that if you can cross the streets in Mumbai you can cross any street in the world). “Indo-Saracenic” is the name of the architectural style. It’s a fancy way of saying that the British architects who designed the power projection structures of the British Raj were partly inspired by local styles — with a bias towards India’s Islamic, as opposed to Hindu, aesthetic legacy (hence the dated term “Saracenic”). And below is a video of a very quiet, very relaxing morning stroll I took down Mohammed Ali Road in South Mumbai: But Mumbai can also be confronting for the uninitiated. I’ve seen plenty of rough stuff in India, but here it is starker. Homeless camps and small children in rags next to luxury cars. Some of the unhealthiest strays I’ve ever seen. Beggars on the streets, or outside hospitals and temples, with brutal disfigurements. The reality of this city thrills and, of course, the reality of this city also bites. One delightful discovery was the Mumbai “local” (i.e. the Mumbai Suburban Railway), one of the busiest and most infamously overcrowded commuter rail systems in the world. These are big, chunky industrial trains with completely open doors and windows for cheap ventilation. And they are dangerous! Official statistics put the number of deaths from trespassing the tracks and falling off the train between January and June 2019 at over 1,000 people. And that was apparently an improvement over previous years... I also got lucky and managed to accidentally snap a pic of one of Mumbai’s famous dabbawalas in action (the man in white with a cap) on one of the trains. Dabbawalas make up a complicated bicycle-and-rail lunchbox delivery system that has been feeding Mumbai workers since the 1890s. Old school Indian Ubereats. Another amazing aspect of Mumbai I was able to witness was the Dhohi Ghat — the world’s largest open-air laundromat. When I first saw it, I just stood there in wonder for ten minutes watching its microcosm of life and labour go by. I thought about all the countless inner worlds on this planet that I’ll never experience. Some other highlights of my trip to Mumbai included:
Speaking of food, Mumbai street food is a wonder. Friendly roadside vendors selling pure deliciousness for rock bottom prices? Yes, please. And not even once did I feel sick afterwards! Pictured below:
Don’t sell yourself short and avoid all the street food in India! If it’s a busy place, serving food out fast, and the stuff is fresh and vegetarian then I reckon your chances of avoiding the ol' ‘Delhi belly’ are good. But never forget it’s still a game of chance. Caveat vorator! (Eater beware!) However, Mumbai will be the first and last time I’ll ever try Indian Chinese cuisine. Like American Chinese food, it’s an adaptation of Chinese cooking to local tastes and has become its own unique culinary beast altogether. To quote Wikipedia on the ‘Manchow soup’ I had for lunch: “Although the soup is named after Manchuria it does not resemble any that is normally found in the cuisines of the region.” A more questionable thing I tried was paan. This is a sweet roll of betel leaf with chopped areca nut made for me by a grubby Mumbai street vendor for twenty rupees. Nicer than the betel nut I chewed in Taiwan, but its effects are the same: very mild psychoactive stimulation with a side of addiction and oral cancer for long term users. Definitely a sometimes food, not an always food. Now, I have two words for anyone interested in visiting Mumbai (or India in general): Indian sweets. Every day, while I was in Mumbai, I silently prayed to Vishnu, the great and holy preserver of the Trimūrti, that I did not have to visit an Indian dentist at the conclusion of my trip. I was thoroughly addicted during my subcontinental travels. Gulab jamun. Jalebi. Soan papdi. Peda. Mysore pak. Falooda. Just to name a few of my desserty discoveries. What am I going to do without them being readily available in my life? I’m deeply anxious about it. And on my final morning in Mumbai, I had a craving for a proper South Indian breakfast. Or more specifically, I had a craving for Tamil-style filter coffee, something which I thoroughly missed from the time I spent a few weeks prior in Chennai. Luckily, I found a place called the Madras Cafe in Colaba that served it extra strong, extra hot, extra sweet. Bingo. I also ordered a rava sada dosa without knowing what it was. Whoa. How did they cook this thing? Also, how do I eat this thing? Another filter coffee, please. I need another hit before catching my overnight train to Udaipur. Farewell Mumbai! Onwards and upwards.
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AuthorMing is an economist, traveller, and creative writer from Melbourne, Australia. He’s a nebulous collection of particles on the lookout for a good corner to sit with a book and a cup of coffee. Archives
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