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Tale
9 - Pakistan/Iran/Turkey - by Malik
Ankara
At first sight, Ankara was a pleasant surprise. Lush-green,
it was like a Western Metropolis. Later, I observed that the
city was surrounded by strings of shacks, shanty and cardboard
houses. The central area was clean and tidy. There were a number
of museums and Mausoleums especially of Mustafa Kamei Ataturk
at a hilltop. Chankaya, a residential area, had a panoramic
view. It was a rich man's world. Buildings constructed on rolling
hills were a marvel of modern architecture.
One fine morning, I braced myself for a long and straight walk.
It turned out to be travel through a time tunnel. The modern
buildings gave way to old architecture; streets became narrower
and crooked. There were many wooden mansions of Ottoman style.
Some were converted into restaurants. A little further down,
I could smell the stink. I was entering Gecekondu, where houses
were built over night with all types of construction materials,
wood, asbestos, iron rods, cardboard and what not. They had
survived because of a centuries old Ottoman law stating that
houses, once erected, could not be demolished by anyone. The
life was miserable devoid of any amenities. It really pained
me to see that benefits of economic development had not trickled
down to the poor. Kids were playing football on the road with
their little bare feet. Some were flying kites standing on walls
and risking their lives. Women were also standing on the makeshift
walls waving a huge carpet up and down. They wanted to get the
dust out to make it marketable.
With a heavy heart, I returned back and got lost in the bazaar.
Every street specialised in some item: clothes, hardware, copper,
carpets, spices, fruit and veggies. In abundance were small
restaurants (all-male preserves, full of smoke). In the evening,
I went to a hairdresser. He didn't just cut my hair, he also
gave me a good look by shaving my face and cleaning my ears
and nostrils. Next, he directed me to a nearby hamam, a Turkish
steam bath for sweating out all the toxins. When I walked after
the bath, I felt light. Gone was the dust gathered from slums
around the capital city.
I was now longing for Istanbul, a city in two continents. I
boarded a bus of the Turkish Tourism. The inside looked like
an air-bus with reclining seats, hostesses and music. Fragrance
was distributed every two hours for rubbing face and hands.
Turkish music was soothing to the ears letting one forgot the
long haul. Sulman Oghlo, the man seated next to me, was a teacher.
He seemed very happy as teachers were well paid besides having
free accommodation, duty-free import of cars and last pay as
pension.
Istanbul
"In Istanbul, ask for Aya Sofya" a French tourist
said to me as a piece of worldly wisdom. It turned out to be
a windfall. There were a lot of dormitories, rooms and lean-to's
available for around $1. Some hostels offered free belly dancers
twice a week.
Istanbul was great except for the taxi rides. The drivers used
to make turns without indication, dashed in one way streets,
climbed up footpaths, changed lanes without warning. Indeed,
until one travels in a Turkish taxi, one hasn't really tasted
Turkey!
Facing Aya Sofya was the world famed Blue Mosque. On a busy
day, it gave a bit of a Disneyland feel with a large number
of tourists milling around. The Blue Mosque had blue tiles and
6 minarets. Another popular site was Topkapi Palace. It had
large collections of crystal, silver and Chinese porcelain.
I got into a queue lasting one hour to get into the harem (wives
and concubines rooms) to gawk at the luxury of the Ottoman Sultans.
Baghdad Pavilion was another sight. One room was devoted to
silver stuff, one to pure 24-carat gold ornaments, one to emerald
ones and one to diamonds. I recalled having seen a film, Topkapi,
wherein a diamond studded dagger was stolen and subsequently
recovered.
World famed Blue Mosque-Istanbul
Among the religious relics, it was a lifetime chance to see
the teeth and footprints of the Great Prophet, his clothes and
his banner. These were enclosed in a golden case and could only
be viewed through thick protective glass.
In the evening, I took a bus to go to a ferry stop in the Black
Sea. Known as Hyder Pasha, the area was a living display of
true Turkish Culture. A large number of local people were resting
along the edges of the sea. Tea sellers were paddling tea to
the exhausted customers. There many stalls selling fresh fish
fired in a number of ways. Sitting in an open-cafe, one could
view the sea as well as the skyline full of minarets with ship
sirens in the background.
Tea seller peddling Tea in Istanbul
I next jumped into a ferry which cruised through the Bosphorus,
giving an enchanting view of palaces, old wooden villas, and
mosques. An old bridge, Gulta, had two layers - traffic on top
and pedestrians below. On my return, I passed by Pera Palace,
an 1892 building where passengers of the "Orient Express"
used to stay. In fact, Greta Garbo had stayed here, Mata Hari
and Dame Agatha herself who wrote 'Murder on the Orient Express'.
One could have a meal plus wine in the most exclusive place
in town for £25.
Istanbul was a city with a character that invited attention
or embraced visitors with warmth. Too much of its historic fabric
had been shredded by new construction but a lot remained to
see. The beauty of the city was enhanced as it stood on seven
hills. Turkey has two faces: modern and old. Those living in
big cities imitated western style. In rural areas, people still
lived in the same way as at the time of the Ottoman Empire.
Little boys still wore skullcaps and women continue to drape
themselves in non-revealing clothes. The villagers were hospitable
and welcomed guests with open hands. In one village, I had a
chance to see famous Angora Cats flowing with beauty (Muslims
love cats as the Great Prophet approved it). I patted a blue
eyed female and an odd eye male. These were said to be a natural
breed with original Turkish lineage. Slightly larger, they had
a unique appearance.
Angora Cat of Turkey flowing with beauty
Return
I had been out of the country for over two months now and was
getting homesick. It was time to head back to Pakistan. I hope
you enjoyed my trip, I certainly did!!
Hafeez ur Rahman Malik, Karachi-Pakistan.
Submitted: 27 December 2002 |
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Malik
- Pakistan
Travel tale author |
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