Almost a year on here in Istanbul and with countless hours of Turkish study under my belt, it was high time I got out of the classroom and put my linguistic learning to good use. Over the last few months I seized the golden opportunity of being a student (read spring break and post examinations) to close the books, leave the city behind and venture out into Turkey proper.
It is not fair to say I saw the “real” Turkey because this mega metropolis of Istanbul is indeed as real as it gets. However, it is on the mark to say I saw the “other” Turkey.
Anatolia, Asia Minor, Anadolu (in Turkish), how ever you want to call it, is the 98% of the country that runs from the Asian shores of the Bosphorus eastward to Georgia, Armenia, Iran, Iraq and Syria. Hemmed in on the north by the Black Sea and the Mediterranean on the south, Anatolia has been cris-crossed by humanity since time immemorial.
With close to 60 million Turks living in the mountains, valleys, plains and forests in between and 5000 years of history, there certainty was enough worth the while to visit, explore and understand.
GLOBALIZATION WHIPLASH
It is quite hip these days to think small, green and local. I for one am in full agreement, however with the caveat that globalization is probably the best thing that has even happened to us a humans. (To the planet, that’s a whole different story but we can leave it at this for now: We humans write the chapter and verse of our lives, Mother Earth will write the final page of our existence).
Contrary to popular belief, globalization is nowhere near being a new phenomenon.
With our first steps out of Africa and our first ships set sail upon the ocean blue, globalization is in fact the first thing we as humans exported. Language, culture, tools and goods. We all have them, want more of them and are willing to do what it takes to get them.
We as Americans, without globalization, first would not be Americans and secondly, if we overlooked the first reality, would be forced to subsist on tomatoes, corn and strawberries. A few of the only edible plants native to North America. Not a bad lot, but one cannot live on them alone no matter how tasty ketchup may be.
Globalization, whether good or bad is rather quite natural, constant and a human endeavor. It’s what we do. We don’t gaze upon the stars and close our eyes. We just build bigger and better telescopes. The rub is that its not globalization itself but the speed at which globalization happens which catches us all off guard.
On a lonely, wind swept rocky outcrop located deep in the southeastern corner of Turkey lies HOŞAP CASTLE. Built a half a millennium ago by a Kurdish King and still retaining multiple stories and nearly a hundred intact rooms, it gazes silently out from its commanding position over the dusty golden plains that stretch out towards Northern Iraq.
Arriving at the massive iron gate after a day of travel, my friend and I were greeted by the castle’s caretaker. Willing to swing open the castle’s doors for a small fee and allow us to penetrate the ancient defenses, we strike up a conversation about how we are Americans studying Turkish in Istanbul.
Over coming their fear and indulging their curiosity, the caretaker’s children come out of hiding and circle around us. Wanting to be friendly, we offer the kids some local fruit that we had just bought. Two of the three kids grab it eagerly, but one little boy abruptly recoils.
All of six years old, he had heard that we were Americans and told his father that he didn’t want to take the fruit because he didn’t want to catch the Swine Flu.
On a lonely, wind swept rocky outcrop located deep in the southeastern corner of Turkey, a child who can neither read nor write, knows that America is the source of Swine Flu. Globalization par excellence.
With a smile of astonishment on our face, we grabbed up our food and stormed the castle.
ORIGINS
The city of URFA in South Eastern Turkey is known as the prophet’s city. Rightly so.
Smack in the downtown area is a cave reckoned to be the birthplace of the Prophet Abraham (Ibrihim to Muslims). We are talking 1900 BC, the original promoter of monotheistic faith and thus technically the primogenitor of Judaism, Christianity and Islam. This is heavy stuff. As I bend down to catch a glimpse of the cave (certainly a minimalist approach regarding its interior decoration), I am struck by the fact that here before me are the stories of the three holy books, Torah, Bible and Koran, come to life.
Abraham, no longer a long ago man from a far away land but a real live human being.
Faith is what we all make of it, but it certainly has gravity when given historical context.
Although officially a secular country, Turkey is 99% registered Muslim and has the legacy of a five hundred year Ottoman-Islamic history. Thus, a large Mosque complex encloses the immediate surroundings of Abraham’s cave. Beautifully built of cut sandstone, the doors are open to any and all who come. Be it a purposeful pilgrim or an itinerant traveler.
The area is one of faith and family. But to this devotion I for one would like to add dialogue. Not seeing either in sight, I was taken a bit aback by the conspicuous lack of both a synagogue and church. Different strokes for different folks. I am certainly not an expert regarding history or religion but I do consider myself a believer and critical thinker.
Standing before the birthplace of a man paramount to all three major monotheistic religions. What better place to celebrate our similarities and come to terms with our differences. We humans are a funny sort however, sometimes are differences are not different enough for us to get along.
NEIGHBORLY RELATIONS
Bridges are highly functional. They are equally symbolic. In Northeastern Turkey lie the ruins of ANI, an ancient Armenian capital from the turn of the first millennium left abandoned in the no man’s land of the frozen Armenian Turkish Border.
Due to a long and entangled history of mutual accusations of genocide, invasion and cultural superiority Turkey and Armenia currently do not maintain official diplomatic relations and their border, perhaps 350 km of unbroken land, is definitively closed to all traffic.
In a rolling meadow ringed by snow capped mountains, the ruins of ANI preserve thousand year old Armenian cathedrals and what is considered to be the first Seljuk Mosque build in Anatolia (1072). Yet it also has areas off limits to visitors due to control by the Turkish military in the face of an undefined Armenian threat.
Spending the day picnicking, there wasn’t a soul in sight. Neither of the Turkish or Armenian variety.
Walking out of the eastern entrance of the Cathedral, the land descends sharply to the Arpa River, the physical land feature that delineates the official border of the two countries. On closer scrutiny, the structural remains of a massive, ancient stone bridge are clearly visible down below.
A thousand years ago, the two sides of the river, Turkey and Armenia, were connected.
Thoughts, people and trade flowed freely. Today the same bridge lies destroyed and forgotten. Communication between the two nations is forced at best.
Long ago the stone arches collapsed and the rocks fell into the river. The sturdy, weathered footings that remain however offer a silent, striking lesson on the imprudence of humanity for any one of us willing to look, listen and understand.
MESOPOTAMIA
Besides the more problematic ethnic and national appellations (Kurdistan) of the region, to call Southeast Turkey by its original name, you must reach back to the grand daddy of them all: Mesopotamia. Few words conjure up humanity and perhaps third grade history like that of Mesopotamia and its pair of River Guardians, the Tigris and the Euphrates.
The Fertile Crescent, the birthplace of civilization, present-day Iraq and an unfortunate quagmire of conflict, strife and violence. To the Mesopotamia Landscape, one can imagine, there is nothing new under the sun. As long as we humans are here, the cycle of life and death, peace and hostility will continue.
Happily however for the adventurous but safety conscious traveler (ME), following the Tigris and Euphrates Rivers upstream puts their source in Turkey. Perhaps it’s a hold over, deep down in our bones from way back when, some sort of bond of kith and kin harkening back to unknown original ancestors, but I felt a certain ethereal energy as I crossed the fabled Tigris River into Turkish Mesopotamia.
Truly, this sparkling blue water cutting a meandering path through the parched, patchwork terrain, provides the lifeblood to all. A hot early summer day painted with the colors of an azure blue sky and white billowy clouds and tempered by the cool waters of the Tigris makes for the ideal setting to relax riverside.
We sat with our feet dangling in the river. The rush of new water in this ancient river speaks in hushed tones of life past and present. As the afternoon lazily slips into twilight and the westering sun gives everything a golden glow our idyllic vision of this eternal landscape snaps back to reality.
Silhouetted against the sun, a man from one of the local restaurants that line the river was throwing the day’s trash into to the Tigris. Bottles and cans, reflecting the last glint of sunlight tossed right into the River of Life. Swept down stream, to begin its own journey through Mesopotamia.
EAST SIDE – WEST SIDE
Back in Istanbul, the source of the city’s vibrancy is clearly apparent: Anatolia. Over the millennium, whether people have come here to start over, to improve their lot or to forget, they have brought the magic and mystique of Anatolia with them.
Istanbul is a one of the great cities of the world, but what makes it so is that it is truly a world within a city. Istanbul reflects empires past and civilizations come and gone, but at its heart it draws its strength of character from its Anatolian roots.
It’s a “Too Much City”. Too much beauty, too much history, too much traffic, too many people, too many building, It is a place where incongruities of all shapes coincide and where excess and extremes reside.
When I arrived in the city back in August, a Turk told me that if you spend a year here in Istanbul, you will certainly die here.” I laughed it off then, but closing in on the year mark, the man’s remark seems prescient.
Not wanting to get caught by this city and country’s beautiful assassin, I plan to make moves. I’ll be home at the end of July.
