Back in Morocco for less than a day, now seems the appropriate time to summarize my ten days in Turkey. To do so, I'll begin with a brief recap of the seminar that brought me there and our trip's objectives before using two known works as comparative perspectives to my experience. This travel blog contains ten postings that cover four cities, two empires and about one-and-a-half millennia of history.
Throughout the semester, we covered most aspects of each capital city, and our visit took us to all of them (save the current capital, Ankara, which was never an imperial center); unless noted otherwise, the hyperlinks below will take you to nine more postings that cover each capital in far greater detail.
Beginning with the Roman occupation of what was a small town known as Byzantium in 330 AD and ending with the Turkish War of Independence in 1922, the course curriculum focused on the four imperial capitals of what is today modern Turkey. They include Constantinople (Istanbul), Niceae (Iznik), Bursa and Adrionopolis (Edirne).
The Byzantines occupied the first two cities as capitals but only moved to Niceae following their expulsion from Constantinople by the Latins in 1204; following about fifty years, they returned to their origins and reigned over a much smaller territory for another two hundred years. The Ottomans claimed three of the four cities as their capitals, beginning in Bursa in the 14th Century. From there, they moved to Edirne for a few decades before finally seizing Istanbul in 1453, where they remained until World War I pulled the plug on what became the "Sick man of Europe."
As most power was projected from Istanbul, we spent most of our trip (six days) in and around that city. Next prominent was Bursa, which hosted us for two and a half days and then Iznik and Edirne for afternoon trips apiece. Given our time and each city's importance, I felt that these durations were quite adequate.
Each city differed in size and scope. Greater Istanbul was by far the grandest, now boasting a population between fifteen and eighteen million. Benefiting from an impressive reputation, it also had no problem living up to it. Further, it easily ranks in my "Top 5" international cities with Paris, London, Rome and Berlin and is probably in the "Top 3" with Paris and Rome. It certainly boasts as much or more history than any of them except perhaps Rome, but its diversity is unparalleled. Much more on Istanbul after the other three capitals.
Today the second capital, Bursa, is a provincial capital and national commercial and industrial hub with more than two million citizens. However, the first Ottoman "capital" snuck up on me with its impressive size and scale, not to mention its large number of historical and cultural sites. Most impressive were the mosque complexes, as they included mausoleums for each of the first six Ottoman sultans. Second to this history were the scenic views; at almost every turn along the city's hilly roads, a new overlook called for my camera's attention.
The Ottoman's second capital, Edirne, was also impressive despite its current dimunitive status as a Greek and Bulgarian border town. Here, four of the most impressive (at least unique) mosque complexes were constructed, giving a glimpse of how important the city was to the Ottoman (and Byzantine) western fronts. My favorite mosque, the Selimiye resides here as does one of the better museums at the Sultan Beyazit II complex.
Finally, poor Iznik ranks last on the list due to its relative obscurity as a capital, but it still outshines my Moroccan host city, Ifrane, as a small tourist destination. Not helped by the fact that the Byzantines moved here some nine hundred years after claiming Byzantium, most of the historical architecture that once defined the city's importance has long been lost to time. Here, this point most specifically denotes the Haghia Sophia, where two of the Christian Ecumenical Councils (the first and seventh) were convened. Remaining is only a hollow shell of a structure recently converted to an unneeded mosque.
When I think of Istanbul now, two recently-read perspectives come to mind - each of them very different from my recently-acquired experience. The first is Orhan Pamuk's 2003 memoir, Istanbul: Memories and the City (after which this blog is titled). Written about the 1952 version of what he perceived of the city, this work follows Pamuk's childhood character up to young adulthood.
In the span of this fifteen to twenty years, he covers a wide swath of topics that range from historical newspaper accounts to personal habits while primarily focusing on two themes. The first is neatly noticed at the book's surface: hüzün (melancholy). In all aspects of life, this communal feeling of sadness dominates the residents of the city as they live out their days. They acknowledge it, seem to understand its grip on them but do little-to-nothing to escape it because, perhaps, of the second and more subtle theme: Orientalism.
A term popularized by Edward Said decades ago, Orientalism refers to the relationship between Western scholarship and influence on Eastern ideas, culture and politics (among many other aspects). Here, I believe Pamuk draws a comparison between how his character and the city are influenced by the Western "Other." Its impact is felt in the past, present and future, creating a constant struggle for the city and its inhabitants that forces them to decide between their Islamic roots and the apparent path to modernization through Western adaptations. The city he paints is one dilapidated and in conflict; this was not the city that I saw last week (for a more detailed look at these subjects, click here).
Even further removed from my experience, but still an interesting (and amusing) comparison, are Mark Twain's recollections of an 1867 trip recounted in The Innocents Abroad. In a manner of witty candor that I could never hope (or allow myself) to achieve, this masterpiece recounts the author's visit to "Stamboul" among other major cosmopolitan and Eastern cities. Though Istanbul only accounts for a couple of chapters, his description of it is lasting.
In a mix of historic sites and the quirkiness of the street peoples, Twain paints the picture of a horrible city whose historical heritage is in severe disrepair (the conditions were awful in the Haghia Sophia and the 1,001 Column cistern), streets are so narrow as to be non-navigable (still rather true) and their alleys filled with cheats, liars, beggars and the "worst mutations" known on earth. One of my favorite lines described how a hobbled European cripple on crutches wouldn't earn a penny over a year given the monstrosities more deserving of it in Istanbul. Aside from the narrow cobblestone streets, this humorous account is also considerably off the mark from my experience.
My perspective was shaped by an itinerary structured by time period from earliest to latest and included one of the city's oldest and most important landmarks, the Haghia Sophia, along with the site of the Hippodrome, Blue Mosque (given proximity) and the Museum of Turkish and Islamic Art (among others) on the first day. Twain described the dirt in the Haghia Sophia as more impressive than the "rusted out barn" of a structure it became and essentially called those who trumpeted the site lunatics. Pamuk doesn't mention the building much, only referring to it by name on four of his 300 or so pages.
I found the Haghia Sophia impressive, but like Twain's assessment not much to look at from the outside given its proximity to the immaculately clean Blue Mosque across the main square. In contrast to its tidier companion, however, the Haghia Sophia (a museum since 1924), sported more history in its corners than the Blue Mosque fit into its entire interior. Also, looking up at its grand dome was less obstructed by wires than the similar view in the mosque, a situation expressed by Twain who referred to a web of netting filling every view of the dome of Haghia Sophia.
Our second day in Istanbul was a mixture of Byzantine and Ottoman sites, the most lasting of them being one of the Byzantine cisterns, their Cathedral of Chora, hippodrome remains, the Walls of Theodosius and Valen's Aqueduct. For Ottoman sites, the Blue Mosque, Fetih Mosque and Grand Bazaar topped the list. Each were impressive in their own right. The cisterns, as Twain described, were eery but somewhat monotonous. As he recalled, step between any four columns and the view is indistinguishable from the next. Sorry Pamuk, no hüzün noticed yet and a balance between modernity and tradition appeared prevalent along most streets.
After a few days in Bursa and Iznik, our third and fifth days in Istanbul were flexible, allowing us to chart our own courses. I visited the Archeological Museum the first day and then went up and down the Bosphorus on the second. Though what I read of Twain excludes both events, Pamuk is quite verbose on the latter. Again, however, things have changed and I found only little common ground with his perspective.
Focused primarily on ship-counting and potentially a metaphor for change that eludes the city along its banks, Pamuk's view paints a picture of the Bosphorus as beautiful (which I certainly agree with) but dangerous and uncertain. Here, the author recounts instances of barges crashing into yalis, Soviet destroyers passing quietly under the early, early morning moonlight and cars sailing into it after veering off icy Fetih and Bosphorus Bridges. I noticed neither any of these events nor felt the same nervous potential for disaster, but I only had ten days to dwell upon it and really only one to see it in ernest.
The remaining two days focused on Sinan's mosques and a little modernity, to include the Dolmabahçe Palace and Taksim Square. Here, both authors offer little on the subjects, but our guides, Drs. Shoup and Ross, easily filled the void regarding the mosques. Their most prevalent theme revolved around Mimar Sinan, the Chief Architect for the court of Sultan Süleyman I. Sinan's works not only filled Istanbul's skyline but could be found all around Turkey, as witnessed in Edirne with the Selimiye complex.
More than anyone, Sinan influenced Ottoman architecture and created a city worth visiting, in my opinion. As noted by our instructor-guides, people will always come to Egypt to see the pyramids; similarly, they will come to see Istanbul's mosques. I agree on both accounts and will most likely return for a second round myself.
Overall, the trip was a fine conclusion to the course, emphasizing both the imperial capitals and what have become the city's most symbolic sites: its mosques. More importantly, I found that seeing all of the sites personally made them distinguishable and - hopefully - easier to remember their history.
I'll remember one of Dr. Ross' points about the Sultan Bayezit II Mosque in Edirne as a prime example of this point. Though Bayezit ruled from Istanbul, he spent most of his time dealing with western threats from Edirne and was therefore more prone to establishing a waqf (endowment) there.
Along this line, the sultans' tombs were also important to reinforcing chronology, causal relationships and personalities; here, Sultan Murat II's simple tomb (a small dirt-covered grave) denotes his piety and deep Sufi beliefs. Compared to the ornate tombs of every other sultan and vizier, his stands out for its simplicity.
In my first blog, I noted that I've done this type of journal before but never with three months of preparation to precede my travels. At the time (not even two weeks ago), I didn't want to draw out comparisons between this trip and those. Even with these ten days under my belt, I'm still reluctant to say that one approach was better than the other; however, for a long trip like this, I certainly felt that the preparation made pertinent more of the cities, especially Istanbul.
Further, I found it interesting how my experience differed from those of much better writers. Here, I believe the reason lies in historical timing. Unlike Twain and Pamuk, I was fortunate to see the city at one of its peeks, benefiting from recent years of extremely high economic growth rates. When Twain visited, the Ottomans were on the verge of collapse and, despite impressive reforms and modernization efforts (or because of them, given your interpretation), were slipping into greater debt to Europe and an imminent governmental collapse.
Likewise, Pamuk's period was marred by radical internal reform and the strengthening of foreign powers that escaped post-World War II Turkey. Though US-provided aid improved the country's economic standing, it did little to quell the traditional / modernist debate; rather, it may have provoked it further as the country straddled the Cold War divide.
In the end, I'm not sure a strong economic performance would have influenced Twain's account, as he seemed more bent on providing color commentary about strange people in a strange land than giving an open-minded perspective. But, I'm positive Pamuk's perception would have changed. Who knows; maybe it has over the past decade.
Throughout the semester, we covered most aspects of each capital city, and our visit took us to all of them (save the current capital, Ankara, which was never an imperial center); unless noted otherwise, the hyperlinks below will take you to nine more postings that cover each capital in far greater detail.
Beginning with the Roman occupation of what was a small town known as Byzantium in 330 AD and ending with the Turkish War of Independence in 1922, the course curriculum focused on the four imperial capitals of what is today modern Turkey. They include Constantinople (Istanbul), Niceae (Iznik), Bursa and Adrionopolis (Edirne).
The Byzantines occupied the first two cities as capitals but only moved to Niceae following their expulsion from Constantinople by the Latins in 1204; following about fifty years, they returned to their origins and reigned over a much smaller territory for another two hundred years. The Ottomans claimed three of the four cities as their capitals, beginning in Bursa in the 14th Century. From there, they moved to Edirne for a few decades before finally seizing Istanbul in 1453, where they remained until World War I pulled the plug on what became the "Sick man of Europe."
As most power was projected from Istanbul, we spent most of our trip (six days) in and around that city. Next prominent was Bursa, which hosted us for two and a half days and then Iznik and Edirne for afternoon trips apiece. Given our time and each city's importance, I felt that these durations were quite adequate.
Each city differed in size and scope. Greater Istanbul was by far the grandest, now boasting a population between fifteen and eighteen million. Benefiting from an impressive reputation, it also had no problem living up to it. Further, it easily ranks in my "Top 5" international cities with Paris, London, Rome and Berlin and is probably in the "Top 3" with Paris and Rome. It certainly boasts as much or more history than any of them except perhaps Rome, but its diversity is unparalleled. Much more on Istanbul after the other three capitals.
The Sultanahmet Mosque, better known as the Blue Mosque, with an Egyptian Obelisk in foreground
Today the second capital, Bursa, is a provincial capital and national commercial and industrial hub with more than two million citizens. However, the first Ottoman "capital" snuck up on me with its impressive size and scale, not to mention its large number of historical and cultural sites. Most impressive were the mosque complexes, as they included mausoleums for each of the first six Ottoman sultans. Second to this history were the scenic views; at almost every turn along the city's hilly roads, a new overlook called for my camera's attention.
The Ottoman's second capital, Edirne, was also impressive despite its current dimunitive status as a Greek and Bulgarian border town. Here, four of the most impressive (at least unique) mosque complexes were constructed, giving a glimpse of how important the city was to the Ottoman (and Byzantine) western fronts. My favorite mosque, the Selimiye resides here as does one of the better museums at the Sultan Beyazit II complex.
Statue of Mimar Sinan, Chief Architect for Sultan Süleyman I, in front of his "gem," the Selimiye Mosque
Finally, poor Iznik ranks last on the list due to its relative obscurity as a capital, but it still outshines my Moroccan host city, Ifrane, as a small tourist destination. Not helped by the fact that the Byzantines moved here some nine hundred years after claiming Byzantium, most of the historical architecture that once defined the city's importance has long been lost to time. Here, this point most specifically denotes the Haghia Sophia, where two of the Christian Ecumenical Councils (the first and seventh) were convened. Remaining is only a hollow shell of a structure recently converted to an unneeded mosque.
Iznik's Green Mosque, so named for its decorated interior, now quite plain after years of disrepair
When I think of Istanbul now, two recently-read perspectives come to mind - each of them very different from my recently-acquired experience. The first is Orhan Pamuk's 2003 memoir, Istanbul: Memories and the City (after which this blog is titled). Written about the 1952 version of what he perceived of the city, this work follows Pamuk's childhood character up to young adulthood.
In the span of this fifteen to twenty years, he covers a wide swath of topics that range from historical newspaper accounts to personal habits while primarily focusing on two themes. The first is neatly noticed at the book's surface: hüzün (melancholy). In all aspects of life, this communal feeling of sadness dominates the residents of the city as they live out their days. They acknowledge it, seem to understand its grip on them but do little-to-nothing to escape it because, perhaps, of the second and more subtle theme: Orientalism.
A term popularized by Edward Said decades ago, Orientalism refers to the relationship between Western scholarship and influence on Eastern ideas, culture and politics (among many other aspects). Here, I believe Pamuk draws a comparison between how his character and the city are influenced by the Western "Other." Its impact is felt in the past, present and future, creating a constant struggle for the city and its inhabitants that forces them to decide between their Islamic roots and the apparent path to modernization through Western adaptations. The city he paints is one dilapidated and in conflict; this was not the city that I saw last week (for a more detailed look at these subjects, click here).
Even further removed from my experience, but still an interesting (and amusing) comparison, are Mark Twain's recollections of an 1867 trip recounted in The Innocents Abroad. In a manner of witty candor that I could never hope (or allow myself) to achieve, this masterpiece recounts the author's visit to "Stamboul" among other major cosmopolitan and Eastern cities. Though Istanbul only accounts for a couple of chapters, his description of it is lasting.
In a mix of historic sites and the quirkiness of the street peoples, Twain paints the picture of a horrible city whose historical heritage is in severe disrepair (the conditions were awful in the Haghia Sophia and the 1,001 Column cistern), streets are so narrow as to be non-navigable (still rather true) and their alleys filled with cheats, liars, beggars and the "worst mutations" known on earth. One of my favorite lines described how a hobbled European cripple on crutches wouldn't earn a penny over a year given the monstrosities more deserving of it in Istanbul. Aside from the narrow cobblestone streets, this humorous account is also considerably off the mark from my experience.
My perspective was shaped by an itinerary structured by time period from earliest to latest and included one of the city's oldest and most important landmarks, the Haghia Sophia, along with the site of the Hippodrome, Blue Mosque (given proximity) and the Museum of Turkish and Islamic Art (among others) on the first day. Twain described the dirt in the Haghia Sophia as more impressive than the "rusted out barn" of a structure it became and essentially called those who trumpeted the site lunatics. Pamuk doesn't mention the building much, only referring to it by name on four of his 300 or so pages.
The Mosaic of Mary flanked by Constantine I and Justinian I bids visitors adieu over the museum's exit
I found the Haghia Sophia impressive, but like Twain's assessment not much to look at from the outside given its proximity to the immaculately clean Blue Mosque across the main square. In contrast to its tidier companion, however, the Haghia Sophia (a museum since 1924), sported more history in its corners than the Blue Mosque fit into its entire interior. Also, looking up at its grand dome was less obstructed by wires than the similar view in the mosque, a situation expressed by Twain who referred to a web of netting filling every view of the dome of Haghia Sophia.
Our second day in Istanbul was a mixture of Byzantine and Ottoman sites, the most lasting of them being one of the Byzantine cisterns, their Cathedral of Chora, hippodrome remains, the Walls of Theodosius and Valen's Aqueduct. For Ottoman sites, the Blue Mosque, Fetih Mosque and Grand Bazaar topped the list. Each were impressive in their own right. The cisterns, as Twain described, were eery but somewhat monotonous. As he recalled, step between any four columns and the view is indistinguishable from the next. Sorry Pamuk, no hüzün noticed yet and a balance between modernity and tradition appeared prevalent along most streets.
Part of Valen's Aqueduct, dating back to the 3rd Century AD
Focused primarily on ship-counting and potentially a metaphor for change that eludes the city along its banks, Pamuk's view paints a picture of the Bosphorus as beautiful (which I certainly agree with) but dangerous and uncertain. Here, the author recounts instances of barges crashing into yalis, Soviet destroyers passing quietly under the early, early morning moonlight and cars sailing into it after veering off icy Fetih and Bosphorus Bridges. I noticed neither any of these events nor felt the same nervous potential for disaster, but I only had ten days to dwell upon it and really only one to see it in ernest.
The Asian Fortress between two ships, originally constructed by Sultan Bayezit I circa 1400
The remaining two days focused on Sinan's mosques and a little modernity, to include the Dolmabahçe Palace and Taksim Square. Here, both authors offer little on the subjects, but our guides, Drs. Shoup and Ross, easily filled the void regarding the mosques. Their most prevalent theme revolved around Mimar Sinan, the Chief Architect for the court of Sultan Süleyman I. Sinan's works not only filled Istanbul's skyline but could be found all around Turkey, as witnessed in Edirne with the Selimiye complex.
The Interior Courtyard of Sinan's Süleymaniye Mosque
More than anyone, Sinan influenced Ottoman architecture and created a city worth visiting, in my opinion. As noted by our instructor-guides, people will always come to Egypt to see the pyramids; similarly, they will come to see Istanbul's mosques. I agree on both accounts and will most likely return for a second round myself.
Overall, the trip was a fine conclusion to the course, emphasizing both the imperial capitals and what have become the city's most symbolic sites: its mosques. More importantly, I found that seeing all of the sites personally made them distinguishable and - hopefully - easier to remember their history.
I'll remember one of Dr. Ross' points about the Sultan Bayezit II Mosque in Edirne as a prime example of this point. Though Bayezit ruled from Istanbul, he spent most of his time dealing with western threats from Edirne and was therefore more prone to establishing a waqf (endowment) there.
A model of the Bayezit II mosque complex in one of its two museums
Along this line, the sultans' tombs were also important to reinforcing chronology, causal relationships and personalities; here, Sultan Murat II's simple tomb (a small dirt-covered grave) denotes his piety and deep Sufi beliefs. Compared to the ornate tombs of every other sultan and vizier, his stands out for its simplicity.
The Tomb of Murat II, the only plain example witnessed within eight sultan tombs
In my first blog, I noted that I've done this type of journal before but never with three months of preparation to precede my travels. At the time (not even two weeks ago), I didn't want to draw out comparisons between this trip and those. Even with these ten days under my belt, I'm still reluctant to say that one approach was better than the other; however, for a long trip like this, I certainly felt that the preparation made pertinent more of the cities, especially Istanbul.
Further, I found it interesting how my experience differed from those of much better writers. Here, I believe the reason lies in historical timing. Unlike Twain and Pamuk, I was fortunate to see the city at one of its peeks, benefiting from recent years of extremely high economic growth rates. When Twain visited, the Ottomans were on the verge of collapse and, despite impressive reforms and modernization efforts (or because of them, given your interpretation), were slipping into greater debt to Europe and an imminent governmental collapse.
Likewise, Pamuk's period was marred by radical internal reform and the strengthening of foreign powers that escaped post-World War II Turkey. Though US-provided aid improved the country's economic standing, it did little to quell the traditional / modernist debate; rather, it may have provoked it further as the country straddled the Cold War divide.
In the end, I'm not sure a strong economic performance would have influenced Twain's account, as he seemed more bent on providing color commentary about strange people in a strange land than giving an open-minded perspective. But, I'm positive Pamuk's perception would have changed. Who knows; maybe it has over the past decade.
