Istanbul, not Constantinople

The Middle Eastern adventure is over. As I write, I am sitting on a train heading to Belgrade, and on to Vienna. Cutting Turkey short a few days, I am heading to Austria for a brief stop-over before going finally to Prague on the morning of the 25th. What a two months it’s been.

Since my last post, I journeyed over the Dardanelles to Gallipoli and on to Istanbul for the remainder of the Turkey chapter. Gallipoli, I’m pleased to say, was the only time I have taken an organised tour on the trip. The peninsular is far too large to get about by foot, and public transport is non-existent. On the up side, a friend I’d met the day before was going to, and it was good to have someone around my own age/mindset to talk to.

I had wondered for a little while before what effect visiting Gallipoli would have on me. On the one hand, going to ANZAC Cove is the closest thing that most Australians have to the pilgrimage to Mecca. On the other, I’m not really that fond of military history, and hate the extent to which the ‘ANZAC legend’ is force-fed into everyone through school and the mass media. I still can’t decide whether I’m happy or sad that the experience elicited a fair bit of emotion. I don’t think I’ll watch an ANZAC Day ceremony the same again, for one. It was a slightly surreal experience being surrounded by a group of fellow Aussies and Kiwis, sharing some sort of collective identity being elicited by the Turkish guide. A strange thing to be standing somewhere so far from home, yet the place that so many died, and is one of the defining points of our nation.

The sites are interesting in themselves. ANZAC Cove, where 15 000 troops landed on the first day, is only around 600m long (photo). The trenches on the top of the ridge, from where there was essentially no movement in the 8 months of the campaign, were only around 8 metres apart. Go and measure eight metres somewhere. Than get a friend and throw rocks at each other for a bit, pretending they’re grenades. You’ll start to get a sense of just how close eight metres is. We learned of the decisive mistakes of the British commanders (idiots) that could have changed fate, the intentional strategy behind the conflict, and some great stories that were retold in letters from the diggers home. The guide was extremely knowledgeable. One of the defining points of the tour, however, was learning the Turkish side of the story. There’s too much to recount here, but it’s amazing in its own right. Some of the poetry and speeches relating to the battle are also extremely moving, and I’ll see if I can find a way to post them up somewhere.

I can’t decide how I feel about Istanbul, but suffice to say it’s a city with soul. The old quarter especially, Sultanahmet, brims with life, but firmly has its foot in the tourist trap market. Istanbul’s main attractions are, as you would expect, absolutely stunning. To borrow a description, the outside of the Blue Mosque (photo) seemingly tries to emulate the grandeur of the inside of the Aya Sofia, and sit only a few hundred metres apart. The Grand Bazaar, I would was a bit of a let-down. Expecting something like the markets in Islamic Cairo (tiny alleys, overhanging shops, donkeys, spirit!), the Grand Bazaar seems the missing link between Islamic Cairo and a modern shopping mall. Yes, you get to haggle, but it’s done in nice, quite sanitary, tiled and covered surrounds. And you will always get ripped off if you’re a tourist. Just accept that and move on. There are two big palaces in Istanbul: the Topkapı (Topkapa) and the Dolmabahçe (Dolmabahchè) (photo). The former had been the home of Ottoman sultans since the first half of last millennia, and is built and decorated in a purely Ottoman style. The latter was only built in the 1800s, and looks like something straight out of France. It was built in the neo-Classical European style, and has one of the most extraordinary festival halls I’ve ever seen. It rivals some of the best mosques.

There’s plenty, plenty more to say, but no room to say it. I think this will be my second last post about the journey, with the final one being in a few days after Vienna. I haven’t yet decided whether I’ll continue while I’m in Prague.

Hope all is well, and that life is enjoyable for all.

n.b. written 23 September.