Thursday, July 08, 2004
Istanbul
Today I did something I've wanted to do for years, ever since I read the opening line of a National Geographic article on the Byzantine Empire (and it's probably a line cribbed off someone else, anyway…)
Today, I walked from Europe to Asia.
In fact, I walked from Taksim Square to Asia, which doesn't sound quite as impressive, but takes all afternoon, as opposed to the 10 minutes it required to meander amongst the local fishermen as I crossed the Galata Bridge. (And in so doing, earned the yellow jersey for the first time in Le Tour de Monde - I'm now up one continent over K.)
While the longest leg of my trip to Asia ended at about 2:00 this morning, when my kind but very somber (probably just sleepy) taxi driver brought me along the Sea of Marmara, speeding along the corniche where clumps of men huddled around open hatchback cars, fishing (and clumps of younger men huddled around the backs of cars doing something that looked more nefarious than fishing). We zoomed past Topkapi Palace, through the eerily illuminated arches the late-Roman Valens Aquaduct, then spun round Taksim circle and up to my hotel.
It was a whirlwind tour of the city, and I'd been traveling at that point, door to door, for 30 hours. K met me with a hug in the street, and I tried to allow myself to feel exhausted (after denying the biological triggers for so long) and attempted to sleep.
----
By noon today, I was ready to head into the city. K had left early for her all-day lectures, so I was on my own. Not a word of Turkish. And starving. I managed to inadvertently circle the hotel three times in search of a clearly vegetarian lunch that I could point at and then eat. No such luck. Our hotel is located in a neighborhood called Beyoglu, and many of the streets (including those around the hotel) are pedestrianized - cut off from the constant (but relatively orderly) stream of cars, vans, and yellow taxis.
Eventually I managed to retrace the route my taxi had come only a few hours before, and then walked along Istiklal Caddesi, a major shopping thoroughfare for locals (and tourists) that curves down from Taksim all the way to the water.
After several attempts aborted due to language deficiency (always with smiles all-round) I finally procured a cheese sandwich, several bottles of water, and apparently arranged to have it all wrapped up for take-away. Which wasn't really what I wanted, but I was so delighted to have sustenance of any kind, I thought I'd find a bench somewhere and eat it al fresco.
But apparently Turks don't eat on benches. So after strolling another half-a-mile or so, past cafes, bookstores, music stores, and throngs of people, I eventually sat with several old men on the stone paving of Galatasaray Square, leaned back against the wall of a bank, and ate quite happily. I expect I was joining the ranks of the homeless and the beggars, but I really didn't mind.
No longer limited to hunting for sandwich shops, I began to explore the side streets - the narrow, claustrophobic alleys one imagines Istabul to be full of. Medieval buildings leaning in over fishmongers and mobile-phone suppliers.
As I walked, the throngs began to thin, the tourists disappeared, but I carried on. I discovered the musical district - every shop a display of guitars, keyboard, and exotic stringed instruments. I detoured again, and then, rising before me, was an ancient looking tower - a massive cylinder of brick rising 100 feet and topped with a conical roof, apparently referred to as "the witch's hat." I'd stumbled across the Galata Tower - a landmark of Istanbul since the Genoese built it in 1348.
$5.00 bought me an elevator ride to the top (which after an 1835 fire (and a century or so of neglect) has had it's interior rebuilt in the form of an overpriced restaurant and a disco). I slipped through a precarious little door at the top, and out onto the observation balcony.
Suddenly I realized how far I'd come. The high-rises of Taksim seemed miles behind (and in fact, they were) and in every other direction - water. And across the water: Old Istanbul. It was late afternoon by this point, and the domes of the mosques all gleamed like gold. The Yeni Mosque. Nuruosmaniye Mosque. Suleymaniye Mosque. The Blue Mousque. To the left, Topkapi Palce and Aya Sofia. To the right, the pilgrimage site of Eyup, its necropolis sprawling up the hill. Minarets rising like flowers. And just below, bridges radiating out in every direction.
The seven hills of the ancient Constantinople - capital of the Eastern Empire.
I took too many photos, then hurried down. On the move once more, I descended ever steeper, ever narrower streets until I finally reached the water. Took even more photos, then made my way to Asia.
The Galata bridge (lined completely with local fishermen and their sons - fishing poles perched over the rail while carts stood at their back, selling bottled water, bread, or used (stolen) mobile phones and chargers)) is a two level affair. I crossed to Asia (actually North to South at this point - which seemed a little confusing) on the top level, just as the Yeni Mosque began the call to prayer.
Confronted with all of Old Istanbul, and feeling exhausted to boot, I decided to save something for later, and turned to make the journey back.
The lower level of the bridge (at the water-line) is a long string of cafes and restaurants - and probably one of the single most picturesque places in the world to play backgammon. The surprisingly blue water of the Bosphorus stretching out in front, the Ottoman architecture of the mosques to the right, and the medieval jumble of European Istanbul to your left. And at every table, a game of backgammon. The sound of dice rattling on wood, of pieces clapped down decisively, blended with the shrill beeping of the traffic above and the deep booming of the ship's horns nearby.
Realizing that the steep journey down to the water would now translate into a grueling climb up, I was ecstatic to come across a narrow set of winding stairs. I later learned I’d once again stumbled across a famed feature – the Kamondo Stairs of the late 18th Century. I was just happy for the help going up-hill. (Starting to think one can’t take a step without bumping into something out of legend – it’s one of THOSE cities…)
Exhausted, and re-oriented after once again finding the massive tower, I decided to stop at a café in the shadow of Galata and have a quick drink.
The waiter smiled and welcomed me. I nodded and asked if they had Pepsi Light. “No. Sorry.” I asked about just Pepsi. “No, I am very sorry. No Pepsi.” He shook his head in a gracious manner that suggested he would completely understand my getting up and leaving to find a more accommodating establishment.
In a last ditch attempt (and amazed that after my experience on the flight (and in the rest of Istanbul) there would be no dark, sugary soda, I pondered: “Hmmm. No cola?”
“Oh, yes!” He replied. “Coke and Coke Light. No Pepsi.”
I’ve learned that the Pepsi challenge would be taken very seriously indeed in the streets of Istanbul.
Refreshed and re-caffeinated, I meandered back to the hotel, past countless doorways playing home to litters of kittens (If Cairo is a city of Dogs, Istanbul is a city of Cats… much like it’s sister capital, Rome).
I finish writing this on the roof of our hotel, as the sun sets. The muezzeen are beginning to sing again. First just one - then a clamoring chorus. And mixed in, the bells of Christian churches. I can just catch a glimpse of the Bosphorus between to high-rises - the super-tankers inching their way along to the Black Sea. The neon signs are flickering to life, and I'm reminded of one thing I love about the mid-east - the cities come alive at night.
But for now, I’m very tired.
|
Today, I walked from Europe to Asia.
In fact, I walked from Taksim Square to Asia, which doesn't sound quite as impressive, but takes all afternoon, as opposed to the 10 minutes it required to meander amongst the local fishermen as I crossed the Galata Bridge. (And in so doing, earned the yellow jersey for the first time in Le Tour de Monde - I'm now up one continent over K.)
While the longest leg of my trip to Asia ended at about 2:00 this morning, when my kind but very somber (probably just sleepy) taxi driver brought me along the Sea of Marmara, speeding along the corniche where clumps of men huddled around open hatchback cars, fishing (and clumps of younger men huddled around the backs of cars doing something that looked more nefarious than fishing). We zoomed past Topkapi Palace, through the eerily illuminated arches the late-Roman Valens Aquaduct, then spun round Taksim circle and up to my hotel.
It was a whirlwind tour of the city, and I'd been traveling at that point, door to door, for 30 hours. K met me with a hug in the street, and I tried to allow myself to feel exhausted (after denying the biological triggers for so long) and attempted to sleep.
----
By noon today, I was ready to head into the city. K had left early for her all-day lectures, so I was on my own. Not a word of Turkish. And starving. I managed to inadvertently circle the hotel three times in search of a clearly vegetarian lunch that I could point at and then eat. No such luck. Our hotel is located in a neighborhood called Beyoglu, and many of the streets (including those around the hotel) are pedestrianized - cut off from the constant (but relatively orderly) stream of cars, vans, and yellow taxis.
Eventually I managed to retrace the route my taxi had come only a few hours before, and then walked along Istiklal Caddesi, a major shopping thoroughfare for locals (and tourists) that curves down from Taksim all the way to the water.
After several attempts aborted due to language deficiency (always with smiles all-round) I finally procured a cheese sandwich, several bottles of water, and apparently arranged to have it all wrapped up for take-away. Which wasn't really what I wanted, but I was so delighted to have sustenance of any kind, I thought I'd find a bench somewhere and eat it al fresco.
But apparently Turks don't eat on benches. So after strolling another half-a-mile or so, past cafes, bookstores, music stores, and throngs of people, I eventually sat with several old men on the stone paving of Galatasaray Square, leaned back against the wall of a bank, and ate quite happily. I expect I was joining the ranks of the homeless and the beggars, but I really didn't mind.
No longer limited to hunting for sandwich shops, I began to explore the side streets - the narrow, claustrophobic alleys one imagines Istabul to be full of. Medieval buildings leaning in over fishmongers and mobile-phone suppliers.
As I walked, the throngs began to thin, the tourists disappeared, but I carried on. I discovered the musical district - every shop a display of guitars, keyboard, and exotic stringed instruments. I detoured again, and then, rising before me, was an ancient looking tower - a massive cylinder of brick rising 100 feet and topped with a conical roof, apparently referred to as "the witch's hat." I'd stumbled across the Galata Tower - a landmark of Istanbul since the Genoese built it in 1348.
$5.00 bought me an elevator ride to the top (which after an 1835 fire (and a century or so of neglect) has had it's interior rebuilt in the form of an overpriced restaurant and a disco). I slipped through a precarious little door at the top, and out onto the observation balcony.
Suddenly I realized how far I'd come. The high-rises of Taksim seemed miles behind (and in fact, they were) and in every other direction - water. And across the water: Old Istanbul. It was late afternoon by this point, and the domes of the mosques all gleamed like gold. The Yeni Mosque. Nuruosmaniye Mosque. Suleymaniye Mosque. The Blue Mousque. To the left, Topkapi Palce and Aya Sofia. To the right, the pilgrimage site of Eyup, its necropolis sprawling up the hill. Minarets rising like flowers. And just below, bridges radiating out in every direction.
The seven hills of the ancient Constantinople - capital of the Eastern Empire.
I took too many photos, then hurried down. On the move once more, I descended ever steeper, ever narrower streets until I finally reached the water. Took even more photos, then made my way to Asia.
The Galata bridge (lined completely with local fishermen and their sons - fishing poles perched over the rail while carts stood at their back, selling bottled water, bread, or used (stolen) mobile phones and chargers)) is a two level affair. I crossed to Asia (actually North to South at this point - which seemed a little confusing) on the top level, just as the Yeni Mosque began the call to prayer.
Confronted with all of Old Istanbul, and feeling exhausted to boot, I decided to save something for later, and turned to make the journey back.
The lower level of the bridge (at the water-line) is a long string of cafes and restaurants - and probably one of the single most picturesque places in the world to play backgammon. The surprisingly blue water of the Bosphorus stretching out in front, the Ottoman architecture of the mosques to the right, and the medieval jumble of European Istanbul to your left. And at every table, a game of backgammon. The sound of dice rattling on wood, of pieces clapped down decisively, blended with the shrill beeping of the traffic above and the deep booming of the ship's horns nearby.
Realizing that the steep journey down to the water would now translate into a grueling climb up, I was ecstatic to come across a narrow set of winding stairs. I later learned I’d once again stumbled across a famed feature – the Kamondo Stairs of the late 18th Century. I was just happy for the help going up-hill. (Starting to think one can’t take a step without bumping into something out of legend – it’s one of THOSE cities…)
Exhausted, and re-oriented after once again finding the massive tower, I decided to stop at a café in the shadow of Galata and have a quick drink.
The waiter smiled and welcomed me. I nodded and asked if they had Pepsi Light. “No. Sorry.” I asked about just Pepsi. “No, I am very sorry. No Pepsi.” He shook his head in a gracious manner that suggested he would completely understand my getting up and leaving to find a more accommodating establishment.
In a last ditch attempt (and amazed that after my experience on the flight (and in the rest of Istanbul) there would be no dark, sugary soda, I pondered: “Hmmm. No cola?”
“Oh, yes!” He replied. “Coke and Coke Light. No Pepsi.”
I’ve learned that the Pepsi challenge would be taken very seriously indeed in the streets of Istanbul.
Refreshed and re-caffeinated, I meandered back to the hotel, past countless doorways playing home to litters of kittens (If Cairo is a city of Dogs, Istanbul is a city of Cats… much like it’s sister capital, Rome).
I finish writing this on the roof of our hotel, as the sun sets. The muezzeen are beginning to sing again. First just one - then a clamoring chorus. And mixed in, the bells of Christian churches. I can just catch a glimpse of the Bosphorus between to high-rises - the super-tankers inching their way along to the Black Sea. The neon signs are flickering to life, and I'm reminded of one thing I love about the mid-east - the cities come alive at night.
But for now, I’m very tired.
|
