No Excuses

Pretty soon, I will resume my studies. I’ve already moved into my dorm at Koc University (pictures coming soon). Although I did not visit as many places as I originally had planned, the last month has been no less of an adventure. Problems with one hostel and an extremely stubborn package kept me in Istanbul, but I also found myself savoring the experience of being in the city even more. Living the life of an urban nomad has made me even more attuned to the attitudes of the people ever more than before. It helps to learn a little more of the language every day, but it seems to me that constant interaction with the people and immersing oneself in their climate is the most important in making connections with a people. 

Sharing their spaces has seemed to have made me more open to conversation and approachable. Although my AIFS experience was great, I found relatively few opportunities to directly connect with the locals; even those that spoke english. Half of the students in my politics class were Turks, while the other half were predominately American. Apart from that, I saw few opportunities to really interact with them until later. I think it was a combination of: (1) me being shy, (2) not knowing the language, and (3) being busy trying to learn the language. I suppose they are all connected in one way or another; there were times I felt as though I would be too intrusive if I were to try to start up a conversation in English. Until late into the program, the Turks with whom I had personal conversations with also knew German. 

However, as I found out, there are a plenty of locals that would love to practice their English in friendly conversation. In the final three weeks of my program, I started having more conversations with Turks who spoke very little or fluent English. A friend of mine, M, immersed himself into the culture beyond what I thought was possible in the short time we stayed here. I ran into him talking with locals one evening, and he invited me to join in. From what I gathered in the frequent study sessions we had, M knew less Turkish than I did, but he was engaging them with the few words he knew! They knew hardly anymore English than either of us knew Turkish, yet M hung out with them on a regular basis and even had fun while he and they spoke “Turkenglish”. If it had not yet occurred me that I was not trying enough to connect, there was one point that evening when we were silent, and I indicated a bird nest to M in English. One of the two men sitting by us asked me (through gestures, some third-party translation and a little English), “Why are you speaking in English?” 


Since then, I’ve made it a point not only to learn the language, but to be engaging regardless of how much you know about the language. I’m sure the same applies to experiencing the culture. In that specific situation, I worried too much about being misunderstood, that I actually might have insulted somebody. 
 
I was lucky to have had him call me out and for my month living in hostels. Over the course of the month, I had many interesting conversations, but there were three in particular that were incredible. Each of these guys’ personalities and beliefs were dramatically different from each other. Because single letters are a little impersonal, I will arbitrarily refer them as Tom, Dick and Harry. 

Tom is a student around my age. I met him in Ankara, and actually chatted with him several times because he lived close to the hostel I was staying at there. One night, we discovered our mutual interest in politics... and if you’ve been following this blog, you already know it got real. Although we struggled with words, we were actually able to compare opinions, and have a discussion. He identified himself as nearly communist, and is convinced that the international economic and political order actively works against the interests of the “have-nots”; in particular, those in the Middle East. He was also very wary of religious extremism in the region. Our other conversations were more casual, but just as enjoyable all the same. 

 Dick was also around my age, but already immersed in a promising career. I met him in Istanbul, while picking up a package at shipping. Because the service I used failed to notify the local facility that I was picking up the package, I had to wait for over an hour until the package came. Fortunately, when I introduced myself to Dick and told him I came from America, he grabbed my hand and told me, “I’m from Harlem,” with a winning grin. Dick, who probably was just on his way out, was nice enough to talk sports, women and partying with me until the package arrived over tea and cigarettes. Dick was really into sports. We talked about my recent struggle as a Chicago Bulls fan and his love for Galatasaray, a very successful Turkish football team. I didn’t tell him that I studied politics, but he briefly shared his patriotism and disdain for the PKK, the Kurdish terrorist organization, with me. Nevertheless, the mood lightened quickly after that and, soon enough, the package returned. As I was doing paperwork, he took off, but not before shaking my hand, telling me smiling and laughing that he would not forget our conversation. 

I also met Harry, a young family man, in Ankara. One of the handful of English guides working at the Grand National Assembly of Turkey, he speaks in English very well. Until we neared the Assembly room, we walked in near silence when I was not asking questions. Just after we entered, Harry seemed to be especially impressed that I was able to identify several of the Turkic civilizations symbolized by the sixteen crystal chandeliers hanging over the assembly floor. After that, he was asking me questions as well. We took a liking to each other, and he offered me some tea after the tour. Although I had planned to leave Ankara just after I toured the Assembly complex, I scarcely hesitated to accept the invitation. 

Harry told me about his usual clients, predominately U.S. congressmen, and general goings around the capital. The conversation was actually quite casual until we happened upon international politics. I mentioned the Gaza flotilla incident, which took place on May 31, 2010. As it turned out, he lost a close friend that day. 

 For those of you unfamiliar with the story, although Turkey and Israel were on relatively good terms until the incident, a Turkish aid ship, bound for a Palestinian enclave called Gaza, refused to turn around. Israeli soldiers stopped the ship before it landed, and proceeded to massacre eight Turks and one Turkish-American, all of whom were unarmed. Harry’s friend was shot in the head at point-blank range. 

I think the emotions stirred in our discussion led to a discussion about our religious beliefs. I told him about my Lutheran upbringing, and he shared his convictions as a muslim. As it turned out, Harry is very devout and was very pleased to share his faith with me. I was very glad that he was too; in spite of me being very familiar with Islam, I actually feel as though I still hardly know it. I asked him to recommend a good English translation of the Koran for me to read, and he took it upon himself to search for a quality one online. After giving me a piece of paper with the name of the translator, he offered me dinner. If it were not for the fact that I needed to be at a Hotel in Istanbul by midnight, I would have definitely accepted his invitation. Before we parted ways, we exchanged contact information, and he told me to call him up the next time in Ankara. Most certainly, Harry. 

 So, what was the point of me elaborating on three conversations with three men who, ethnicity notwithstanding, could hardly be any more different from each other? Well reader, these differences are united by a distinct emotion that I only have experienced after each of those encounters. Especially in Dick’s case, I did not know them all that well, and, in perspective, I still don’t. But, in spite of time and language barriers, they all confided in me. They did not share their secrets, but it requires a level of trust to be able to personally discuss religion and politics. I suppose, as foreigner, they felt a level of safety of my distance from their culture. It also might have helped that I am a traveler that they would likely not see again if they had accidentally offended me. In any case, they would not have had the fear of talking to a local “enemy”, be it in matters of religion, sexuality, politics, or sport (football can get REALLY intense over here). This is to say, they did not speak carelessly, rather, they felt free to speak what they think is true. It might seem as though I might be diving into abstractions instead of experience, but reader, their eyes told me what they were saying was truth. 

I would not have had these brief, but intimate, encounters, had I been as reticent to engage with the local population as I was in July. I had thought my lack speaking Turkish precluded me from even simple conversation. 

Persian poet Rumi once wrote, “...one who is parted from one who speaks his mother tongue, even if he has a hundred songs he will always still be dumb.” What he says may be true, but even as one who is almost dumb, I know from experience that I can still enjoy the company of the locals that speak no English. In engaging people of other cultures, what seems to count the most is one’s initiative to interact in their space. All of these conversations took place in places intimately familiar to them: an office, a break room and a living room. 

Four days ago, I visited a small exhibit on the life and adventures of Josephine Powell. Born an American, she spent most of her life in away from her native country among the nomads of the Muslim world (many of them in Turkey). Other than her Volkswagen minibus and her photography equipment, she had no modern possessions. Near the end of her life, she took an apartment in Istanbul, where she lived still scarce of modern possessions, until she died in five years ago. Her is a woman who documented the nomadic life to the smallest of details through photography and writing, while living as a nomad on the Anatolian plateau. She knew them as well as anybody, and they accepted her almost as one of them. Yet, even in her decades of travel in Turkey, she never learned the language. 

We cannot assume that language barriers prevent us from being able to interact with other human beings. What is most important is occupying their space, and looking at them in the eye. Well... excuse me for using a cliché there, but it's true!

"Man Sandwiches"

A picture of my favorite mosque's interior.

Secluded Armenian Church in Istanbul.

The Hittites of Ankara

After staying at the Chambers of the Boheme near Taksım (a hostel I highly recommend) for almost a week, I woke up early Saturday and suddenly decided that I wanted to go to Ankara. It only took several hours to check out and find a bus going to Ankara. The bus ride took about 7 hours, but the Metro bus is very comfortable and every chair has a multimedia screen. I arrived at Ankara at 11:00 p.m. and was settled at my hostel by midnight. 


As a native of Ankara told me in Istanbul, Ankara is not a particularly beautiful city to look at, but it is a very clean place. For the most part, the streets are much wider here, and with the exception of the old part of the city, it is mostly planned. Yet, I found myself enjoying the city. Although I was new to the city, because there were fewer tourists and generally less congestion than Istanbul, my stay in Ankara was relaxing. 

That said, Ankara might be a little boring if you are not a local or interested in history and politics. There are many nice cafes for students here, but there are not a lot of sights to see. Nevertheless, I kept myself busy with either reading or visiting the landmarks of political and historical significance. In the four days I was in Ankara, I visited Ankara castle, Atatürk’s mausoleum (Anıtkabir) and the Grand National Assembly of Turkey (the national legislature). 

The castle was pretty neat, and I got a great view of the city from there. I had a ton of fun using a newly purchased tripod. After I began to feel a little too cold, I began my decent, stopping by the Museum of Anatolian Civilizations along the way. The museum is pretty much a smaller version of the archeology museum in Istanbul, and there was even less to see than usual because over half the museum is being renovated. Nevertheless, the most interesting exhibits of the Hittites and earlier paleolithic civilizations remained open to the public. 

If you have no or little knowledge of Hittite civilization, they were among the first people to inhabit Anatolia (the Asian area of present-day Turkey). For a long time, the Hittites were unified under a king and rivalled ancient Egypt for control over Palestine. Notably, the oldest peace treaty known to exist was signed by both powers. I go to the trouble of introducing the Hittites to you, reader, is because they are linked to political memory in Turkey; a topic I find endlessly fascinating. Although the Hittites are not Turkish, the establishment of an ancient civilization in Anatolia suggests that the whole of Anatolia forms a natural homeland for the people who inhabit it. Also, notice that the museum is titled “Anatolian Civilizations”, rather than “Civilizations in Anatolia”. 
 
These conjectures might seem rather contrived, if not only trivial. However, my observations at Atatürk’s mausoleum not only confirm them, but also give them relevance. Anıtkabir, which, besides containing Atatürk’s body, also has a museum beneath about the Turkish Revolution and the War of Independence. I encountered familiar felines as I approached the tomb through the “Lion’s gate”. They appeared almost identical to the lion statues at both the Museum of Anatolian Civilizations and the Istanbul Archaeology Museum. The statues of Turkish men and women were also molded in a distinctly Hittite fashion as well. Their appearances were certainly not inspired by Islamic art, as Muslims then (and often still) viewed the depiction of the human form in art as a form of idolatry. Most strikingly, two reliefs at the base of the mausoleum itself resemble those that I saw at the museums. 

Compare

I think that the monument is stylized in a rather Hittite manner for two reasons: (1) a tomb in the Islamic style would not be appropriate to a man who advocated militant secularization and (2) it dedicates the monument to Anatolia, the homeland of the Turkish people. 

To explain my second point: After gazing at Atatürk’s coffin, I walked through the museum about independence and revolution underneath. The panoramas, depicting Turkish heroism in incredible detail, evoked emotions even from within me. Although battles were also fought against the French and Armenians, the museum focused exclusively upon the major war against the Greeks. The concept of the Anatolian was strong here too. In fact, although the monument and museum were dedicated to the memory of Atatürk, it was as much of a narrative of the Turkish defense of their Anatolian homeland against invaders. Thus, the concept of a unified Anatolian homeland is central to an important phase for defining Turkish identity. 

The dedication of people to the land is not exclusive to the people of Turkey. At present, most countries are either nation-states or hold pretense to being one. Yet, there are many minorities in Turkey whose ancestors have lived on the land for as long as any Turk’s. Yet, for the government and many people, to be born in Anatolia makes one Turkish and thus, with the exception of certain Christian minorities, the government often denies the existence of minorities that refuse to be called Turks. 

I think that this is largely due to the large presence of Kurdish people who form a majority in the southeast of the country. Their existence and their denial of “Turkishness” make many people to feel uneasy, because it is widely believed that the integrity of Anatolia, the Turkish homeland, is threatened by their presence. Indeed, the issues of Kurdish identity, separatism and terrorism are most serious for the state because they question the viability of the Turkish Anatolian homeland.

However, being in Turkey has made me realize that a lot of these questions and issues about identity are more passively expressed, much less violently. For instance, a girl I had lunch with at Boğaziçi University eventually told me that she is of Armenian heritage. Granted, I am no local, but I would not have guessed she was anything but Turkish, as she spoke it fluently with her Turkish friend sitting with us. Curiously, she lightly remarked a couple of time that she was practically Turkish. A Korean American would say the very same thing about being American. Yet, could not either case be examples of a reflex to assimilate, as to conform to society at large? Perhaps not, and if it were the case, it is not necessarily a bad thing. Though, there is a question that might help to discriminate between possibilities: Do the effects of such actions work to repress the right to culture?

As a privileged hippie in my Turkish politics class once uttered, “Can’t they all just be proud to be born in Turkey?” Well, reader, it may be difficult to understand because we have not had the experience of being born in Turkey. In addition, it would seem as though Turkishness and Anatolian birth are so inextricably linked in public memory, that there is little support for a more inclusive identity. This issue is so complex, I will not yet diagnose any particular solution, but I desire to investigate possible ways to reconcile the memory with present-day identities and grievances.  

Hittite Relief

Grand National Assembly of Turkey.

Quote behind soldier,"NE MUTLE TURKÜM DİYENE !"- Mustafa Kemal Atatürk
"How happy is one who says they are a Turk!"

Flower bed outside the mausoleum.

İstanbul at contrast with itself

Dear Reader,

I must apologize for the long gap between this post and the last. The last several weeks have been very busy, papers, finals, and then a somewhat stressful hostel experience. Though, in between all of that, I’ve had fun and have done plenty of wandering.

After exams, my program at Boğazici University finally came to an end and I needed a new place to stay at. I eventually settled in Sultanahmet, the oldest district of Istanbul. It is the district with Hagia Sophia, the Blue Mosque and Topkapı Palace; the three major tourist destinations in Istanbul. There are several really interesting museums to visit, especially the archeology museum. It was also great to have breakfast every morning overlooking the old walls and the straits, while watching the sun rise over Asia.

Sultanahmet is not only a fascinating area of Istanbul, it is also very clean, as to keep appearances for local families looking for fun and the tourists. At night, it almost feels like I’m at my hometown’s summer festival. Children are frolicking about, while couples and passersby gather around the lit up fountain and watch the water show. The lawn around the fountain is worn out by shoes, so many bring their blankets to recline and enjoy the wonderful weather.

Yet, it is expensive and tiresome to sleep at. It’s like living at IKEA, but all the employees will not stop talking to your money. However, Gülhane park was always nearby. Even though plenty of visitors frequent there, it's very tranquil. I've probably napped there everytime walking through it. A day in Sultanahmet is never wasted time, but I don’t recommend staying there if you are trying to experience Istanbul outside of being a distant observer. Yet, if you are looking for a very nice dinner and evening, Sultanahmet is the place to go.  If money is also not an issue, or you are on a family vacation, I would not worry about any of the problems I had.

Before I tell you about where I am currently staying at now, I should point out a part of Sutlanahmet that I was completely unaware of before yesterday. In searching for Küçük Ayasofya (there are two Hagia Sophias), I found myself walking through a part of Sultanahmet that did not have any hotels or high-end restaurants. On the contrary, the place was as dilapidated as any I have seen in the city. Although the vicinity around Küçük Ayasofya was a little more clean, much of the housing was small, and barbed wire decked sheet metal walls. I suppose this sight should not have come of a surprise. Even in the upscale districts of Istanbul, there are pockets of poverty. However, it is still difficult to fathom that the Four Seasons hotel is only a three minute walk from Küçük Ayasofya, and that both occupy the same street. It would seem as though the life a traveler living in Sultanahmet is significantly more comfortable than for the people living there.

Across the Galata bridge to the north is Beyoğlu. Another old area of Istanbul, it is otherwise quite different from Sultanahmet. Whereas most of Sultanahmet and surrounding Fatıh is conservative and touristed, Beyoğlu is modern and gritty. Tourists do come here, but in lesser number. Istanbulites seeking modern Turkey come here. It is much easier to blend in here, which is one of the reasons I moved up here for the next week instead of continuing to stay in Sultanahmet.

İstiklal Avenue. Not as touristed, but crowded. An estimated 3 million visit it daily over the weekends.

Name-brand clothing stores, cinemas, night clubs and bars line Taksim Square and Istiklal Avenue in central Beyoğlu.* Erotic shops are also a fairly common sight in Beyoğlu, and they outnumber mosques, which are conspicuously almost completely absent. Instead of hearing the call to prayer, I hear music emanating from the streets and out of clubs. Over Ramadan, I’ve noticed more Turks eating during the day than in other parts of Istanbul. As the neighborhood successfully protested against recent plans to build a mosque in the middle of Taksim, I am not surprised. Meanwhile, a large monument of Atatürk and secular republicanism dominates the center of Taksim square.

I’ll try to get back to you all about my experiences in the other areas of Istanbul, as the landscape reflects the attitudes and backgrounds of the people living there. It also tells us how Istanbul is one of the most dynamic cities in the world, and is also one of stark contrasts.

*You might be thinking, “Weren’t you just complaining about living in a shopping mall?” While it might be true that there are more stores here than in Sultanahmet, I am not being constantly approached by salesmen, and I can find good, cheap goods here, especially food.

In the courtyard of the Blue Mosque.

Instead of asking people to bow before entering the mosque, they drape a curtain at the doorway.

Early in the morning at Gülhane Park.

Beyoğlu, viewed from Eminönü (near Sultanahmet).

"There is no god, but God."

Galata bridge.

A smaller mosque in Eminönü.

A prayer clock.

A pavilion in the gardens of Topkapı Palace.

Interior of Küçük Ayasofya / Small Hagia Sophia. Also a former orthodox church.

I spy a middle finger.

Küçük Ayasofya exterior

In Tophane, Beyoğlu, as I was exiting the modern art museum.

Working here can be hard, but more social than similar jobs in America.

Basilica Cistern. Dates to the Roman Empire.

Base of one of the two Medusa columns in the Cistern.
Although the other head is upside down instead, archaeologists
found that it was intentional.