My Trip to Istanbul: Where the Religious Past meets the Secular Present
A few weekends back, I had the opportunity to visit Istanbul, Turkey. Istanbul carries with it a fascinating blend of secular and religious elements: it is a modern city evolving, for sure, but you still do not get the sense that it will ever quite leave behind its ancient, historical feel. At times, to the unsuspecting (and perhaps naïve) American tourist, it seemed to be a city of walking contradictions. At other times—riding the trolley through the new city, for instance—I felt like I was in downtown Boston, weaving past the tightly-packed shops and restaurants, watching the rows of cars park neatly on opposite sides of the train-tracks, and smiling at the occasional tree or green life placed shrewdly on the side of a street.
Against a background of ancient architecture, grand mosques, booming calls to prayer, and bazaars that still resemble old trade routes, Istanbul is a city equipped with modern infrastructure, BMWs and designer clothing, a metro system, high culture, and rich nightlife. While those in coastal Istanbul live a life of wealth, beauty, and privilege, most ‘Istanbullis’ live lives of poverty further inland. As our trusty guidebook, Lonely Planet puts it: “The social challenges facing Istanbul, almost a microcosm of the world’s tensions, are played out in one of the world’s most historically rich and breathtakingly beautiful and vibrant cities. There is simply no other city like it.”
Before I delve into the specifics of my trip, a bit of background courtesy of the ever-trustworthy Wikipedia (I just finished watching the episode of the Office where Michael Scott uses Wikipedia tips to negotiate a business deal, and have been on a bit of a Wikipedia binge since…)
Anyway, did you know?—Istanbul is the 4th largest city proper and the 20th largest metropolitan area in the world; sitting on the Bosphorus Strait, it is the only city to harbor the Mediterranean and Black Seas. Once known as Byzantium and later as Constantinople, Istanbul has been capital to the Byzantine Empire, the Roman Empire, the Latin Empire, and the Ottoman Empire. Today, Turkey is a Muslim country dominated by a secular regime and middle-class; it enjoys healthy relations with the State of Israel, as the first Muslim country to recognize Israel in 1949 (a point of personal intrigue), and is located at the geographical intersection between the Asian East and European West. It was worthy indeed of the $537 I spent for my first long weekend out of Israel.
Instead of providing a running dialogue on my 2+ days in Istanbul, I’ve sectioned off some of the highlights of my trip, full with my insights and perceptions on traveling through a foreign country for the first time with seven other clueless Americans, one stupid Canadian (sorry for the spite Diesey, but you are Canadian) and one Scottish fellow (who became something of a tour guide, having previously lived in Istanbul for a few years).
Food:
The first night in town, a cold and overcast Thursday evening, we went out for dinner in the New City of Istanbul (across the harbor from the Old City) to a place that Lonely Planet had recommended. It was called “Karakoyum,” and apparently is routinely featured on Istanbul’s “best of” lists. Strangely enough, it was on the sixth floor of a random unmarked building that we could only find when we asked a local. The food was a mixture of greens and Turkish meat (including their featured (and salivating-worthy) Turkish Kebab. The food was good, the sparkling view of the Golden Horn, Istanbul’s natural harbor, was better, and there was a general sense of excitement that we were about to embark on something pretty special.
That same night, after venturing through Taksim Square (see below), we stopped at a local dessert place for some ice-cream and Turkish delicattesans. I was especially excited to try the “Turkish Coffee”—what kind of tourist goes to Turkey and doesn’t try real Turkish coffee?—but am sad to report that I’m not much of a fan; there was some type of muddy substance on the bottom (mushed coffee beans, perhaps?), and to be honest, I can’t remember tasting something much fouler in my life. (Maybe that’s an overstatement; my experience with my month-old milk last week was fairly unpleasant). Still, the ice-cream, a minty, fruity mixture topped with chocolate wafers easily made up for the coffee, and was a tasty ending to my first night in Istanbul. I have some pictures of me holding the creamy-assortment while trying to hug a confused Turkish waiter, (I really liked the ice-cream), but cannot locate them currently…
One final note on the food:
On Friday night we ventured down to the waterfront to catch a truly Turkish meal. Off of the Bosphorus River, (which separates the old city from the new city), fishermen catch fish in the water, cut off their heads and tails, take out their internal organs, and cook them right there on the boat. A fish sandwich, quickly prepared right in front of you on the boat, cost 3 Lira, (approximately $2.5). The experience was a unique one, and I am glad I was able to overcome my distaste for fish and try something new; still, I don’t think I’ll be eating anymore freshly cooked fish in Turkey: my churning stomach hours later would serve as a kind reminder of the ‘tasty’ Turkish catch.
Taksim Square:
We visited Taksim Square two or three times over the weekend—it is the heart of a bustling, sparkling nightlife in Istanbul. The streets are always packed, (on par with, if not surpassing, levels in Times Square on any given weekend), the streetlights and store and restaurant lights make for a wondrous spectacle, and the range of natives and foreigners all-coming together on a few connected streets was impressive. Still, it was here, in Taksim Square that I most clearly saw the running contradiction that is part of modern, Islamic Turkey. When I visited on Saturday afternoon for a people-watching stroll through the Square, I was very suddenly reminded that I was strolling through a Muslim country when over the loudspeakers of two nearby Mosques, the call to prayer (Muslims pray 5 times a day) was blasted, sweeping through the Square and leading to a frantic push by the more religious Muslims, as they quickly unraveled their small rugs and began to pray in the general direction of Mecca. I was taken aback; had I not only moments earlier cracked a smile as I saw a McDonalds on my right, Gap store on my left, and a Mercedes car humming towards me? Weren’t the two, the secular and the religious, supposed to be divided? Could a country really function without a division between religion and state? Sure, Israel is a religious (Jewish state), but there are rarely public displays of something as vivid as prayer-services (and, for sure, not 5 times a day). The experience surprised me, but not in a negative way. Turkey is a modern state founded on ancient, Islamic ideas: to think that they can maintain a distinct religious presence while still leading a secular nation is impressive.
Afternoon Call To Prayer
Bathrooms:
A quick side note, and one that might not seem to be “a highlight” of the trip—still I did find it amusing, if not a bit telling (of what I’m still not exactly sure—perhaps, again, this dichotomy between old and new). On Saturday night we spent a few hours at a local bar near Taksim Square; at one point, I got up to go to the bathroom, but when I opened the stall I was shocked to see that there was nothing but a porcelain hole in the wall. The ridges on the side were intended for squatting, and even if there HAD been toilet paper available, I probably would have had to have been really desperate to pull it off. I took a picture, and went back downstairs (Tourist…pshhh).
Topkapi Palace:
An absolutely gorgeous ancient palace that used to be home to the Ottoman Sultans (1465-1853). I could write an entire post about the palace (and perhaps I will?), but now I’ll concentrate briefly on one of the more fascinating rooms I have ever been in. Suffice it to say I spent a while in this room—not just looking at the displays, but also contemplating what exactly it meant to me as a (usually) rational human being.
The ‘Privy Chamber’ houses the Chamber of the Sacred Relics, which was constructed under the reign of Sultan Murad in the mid-to-late 16th century. It claims to hold the real cloak of the prophet Muhammad, his sword, one tooth, a hair of his beard, his battle sabres, an autographed letter and other relics which are known to believers as “the Sacred Trusts.” It doesn’t end there: Several other sacred objects are on display, such as the swords of the first four Caliphs, the staff of Moses (!!!), and the sword of King David (!). I was astonished, absolutely, positively blown away. My first reaction was to grin, my second to angrily dismiss. The staff of Moses? Muhammad’s tooth? David’s sword? How in God’s name could any rational human being think that these were the real objects? They would have to be thousands-of-years old! And conserved in such perfect condition! “What a bunch of religious nuts,” I thought to myself. And even now, looking back—and remembering the solemn, all-believing looks on some peoples’ faces—I wonder if my original inclinations weren’t so far off. I’ve always had some trouble coming to terms with religion—how could so many people give up their lives for something they could never definitively know?—and I could feel those sentiments rushing out of my body as I gapingly walked around the room. On the other hand, who am I to judge? Maybe I’m the fool, and even if I’m not (and indeed, no one really is the fool), I firmly believe that if it works for someone, all the power to him/her. The room, and the holy history that it claimed to hold, just overpowered me; I had to take a few minutes to regain my composure. I’ve attached some photos below, but if you are ever in Turkey—an absolute must to check out.
Grand Bazaar:
On Saturday morning we visited the Grand Bazaar, or “Covered Market” in Turkish. Termed “labyrinth and chaotic” by Lonely Planet, it certainly lived up to its description. Indeed, it boasts over 4000 shops, 58 streets, and several kilometers of winding lanes. Wikipedia estimates that about 250,000 to 400,000 people walk through it daily. They had everything the superficial heart could desire at the Grand Bazaar. From Turkish restaurants and dessert vendors, to clothing, watch, lamp, and other shops, to jewelry and hookah stores, we spent upwards of four hours scouring through the Covered Market. I don’t know that anything in particular was overly intriguing, although I do find Near-Eastern bargaining antics to be fascinating, particularly how quickly the price can split-in-half if you are an astute bargainer. The key: picking a price you are willing to spend, and then actually convincing the shop-owners you only have a certain amount of money (sometimes even going as far as taking out your wallet) until they eventually near your price. I bought two items: an authentic Turkish light (I think) and a belly-dancing costume (to be further explained in my next post on the Jewish holiday of Purim, full with pictures—of course).
Taking in the Grand Bazaar
Turkish Bath:
I thought I should end this post with a truly Turkish experience; Indeed, I don’t think you can get much more authentic then a Turkish bath in Turkey. Along with my eight other traveling companions, we found a cheap Turkish bath in the Old City on Saturday afternoon. For 30 Lira ($25) I was soaped up, washed, slapped, elbowed, and massaged by a huge, hairy Turkish man who spoke no English. It was absolutely fantastic! My back hurt a bit afterwards, (tends to happen when a man twice your size shoves his elbow into your upper back…in love?), but I had not felt so refreshed and relaxed in days. Afterwards, as we sat in our towels upstairs listening to Turkish music, (the place is built like a three story house—with bath chambers on the lowest floor, the store and business operations on the middle floor, and changing rooms on the upper floor), we were given hot and sweet Turkish tea by the hostess, a small but stern Turkish woman with jet black hair and green eyes.
The Turkish bath was really the culmination of my experience in Turkey, and was fitting as our last activity before heading back to the hotel and airport. It is a centuries old ritual, but seems to be dominated by incoming tourists (or at least the one that we visited). Again, it reflects this contradiction—of new meeting old, of maintaining a traditional outlook while still adjusting to the global onslaught of modernity. There are problems in Turkey today—their refusal to admit to the Armenian Genocide recently became an international issue, and there is also an unhealthy socioeconomic divide in the country. Still, the balancing act in Turkey, between religious forces from the past and secular forces from today, is a fascinating one. Indeed, it is one, I think, that other, less adapted Arab and Muslim countries must take to heart as we all push forward together into the global age of the 21st century.
The Wise American Tourist:
