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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The otherworldly landscape of Central AnatoliaStark and uncanny Cappadocia. An alien realm of fairy chimneys, moon-like earth, and hot air balloons floating at sunrise. It is a land of exceptional geological wonder. Tent rocks. Fairy chimneys. Hoodoos. Call them what you will, the rock formations of Cappadocia are remarkable to behold. Since ancient times, people have carved churches, storehouses, caves, and anything else you can imagine into these rocks. Cappadocia was a religious haven in the early days of Christianity when the young, upstart faith was being persecuted by the Roman Empire. Practitioners fled into this area and established monastic communities. Here, in this seemingly barren place, these people were able to survive. When I wasn't touring the region, I passed my time at a cosy European-style pension, or what I thought could reasonably pass as one. I drank cheap red wine. I smoked cheap cigarettes. There was a dusky French helper. There was a pesky cat. I talked late into the night with the other guests and we were served a hearty breakfast in the morning with terrible coffee. It was everything I could’ve wanted from the experience. A mad thought came to me while I was staying at my pension, as the 2020 pandemic craziness slowly (or rather, rapidly) descended on the world. I recalled the premise of Boccaccio’s ‘The Decameron’: a group of men and women are sheltering in a villa on the outskirts of Florence to escape the Black Death and, to pass the time, they regale each other with tragic, clever, funny, and bawdry tales. Painfully apropos, if you ask me. Maybe I should have done that. Stayed in that pension, waiting out pestilence by telling stories. Maybe. But it’s too late to know now. In another life, perhaps.
Anıtkabir. The mausoleum of Mustafa Kemal Atatürk, the founder of the modern Turkish Republic, at the capital city of Ankara. To say that he is revered by some is an understatement. He is (as his honorary surname spells out) the “Father of Turks”, the revolutionary moderniser, and the nation’s defender during the Gallipoli campaign. And having lived under the secular state cult of the Anzac narrative in both New Zealand and Australia, I begrudgingly felt I had to visit his final resting place. I didn’t plan on being in Ankara, of course. But the growing pandemic panic made it a convenient place to bail out of the country (and just in time, too — I managed to catch a flight to London the day before Turkey suspended all air routes with the UK). So what did I think of Ankara? Hmm. I’d call my brief time there troubled, icy, and educational. Troubled because I spent much of it holed up in my hostel, chain drinking instant coffee and bumming smokes, letting the hourly news updates fuel my anxiety. Icy because I was acutely aware that the panic that had seized continental Europe had finally washed over Turkey (I even had trouble checking into my room due to virus fears). And educational because, in between the conspiratorial mutterings about COVID-19 and doubts around the Turkish government’s official infection numbers, I was privy to lengthy discussions among the hostel guests about the legacy of Kemalism, the current political and economic health of Turkey, and the impact and infamy of the Erdogan regime. Being able to listen to all this seemed like a… strange privilege? It’s not often that an unplanned trip to a nation’s capital offers you an intellectual pulse check of the nation, but there you go.
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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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