Magical Istanbul, a short hop away

I arrived in Istanbul on November 10, a day whose significance to the Turkish nation was not immediately known to me being a wide-eyed foreigner with only a cursory knowledge of Turkish culture and history. It was a Sunday and the streets were packed with families, couples, groups of young people carrying Turkish flags, wearing red and white buttons and pins on their chests with the image of the Father of the Nation, Mustafa Kemal Ataturk. It was clearly a special day. After a little research online I soon learned the significance of the day, it was Ataturk Memorial Day.

This display of national cohesion and the people’s deep sense of pride in their Turkish heritage were clear to see on that day. It is that spirit of cohesion and pride in their national identity that I envy them for because it is something so many Lebanese lack.

To understand the Turkish nation better one must understand its painful past, one must go back to the chaotic final days of the Ottoman State, its defeat at the hands of the Allies at the end of World War One and the loss of its empire. Their capital, Istanbul at the time, was occupied by British and French forces. The entire Anatolian land mass was cut up and apportioned between the victorious allied armies, among them Greece and Armenia. A resistance movement emerged led by Ataturk to liberate Anatolia and throw out the occupying armies. What emerged was a Turkish Republic from the Ottoman ashes; it emerged strong and independent, more so for all the hardships and struggle they had to endure along the way. In Lebanon and in most Arab countries we never had such vision or clarity of purpose; as a result we are still deeply internally divided and unsure of our national identity.

The city I visited was very different from the Istanbul I remember as a child when I first came on holiday with my parents in the first half of the 1980s. Istanbul today is a modern metropolis in every meaning of the word. Its population is just over 13 million according to Wikipedia, more than three times the number of people in the whole of Lebanon, and yet the city runs smoothly from what I could see. In short, everything works the way it is supposed to. There are no power cuts, no water shortages; water pressure in taps and showers is superb. Traffic flows smoothly if painfully slowly at rush hour. The trams are modern and sleek, the buses too. Everyone stops at red and drives on at green, even pedestrians for the most part. The rule seems to be to keep to the right not just when driving but when walking too. On busy roads there are special pedestrian crossings where you push a button and the lights turn red, the cars all stop without exception and you cross safely. I marveled at this great achievement because in Lebanon the riskiest business is crossing the road even when you have the right of way.

The architecture of the city is truly unique and I am not just referring to its mosques, palaces and churches. Where I stayed, just uphill from the Four Seasons, is a quaint and quiet residential neighborhood built on the side of a steep hill and bordered to one side by an expansive park. The scene from the top floor of my hotel was a cascade of red tiled roofs, quaint old houses adorned with flower pots, tight brick-surfaced roads and public-use stairways, all interspersed with lush green trees overlooking the shimmering waters of the busy Bosphorus. Almost every doorstep in the neighborhood had at least one fat lazy cat sunning itself which added to its charm.

It was an unusually mild November but with an unmistakable chill in the air, but one could still wear short sleeves. The waterside cafes and restaurants were nearly always packed and full of life. One could spend the whole day walking the city and this is probably the best way to see it. There is one thing I enjoy a lot and that is walking, seeing a city from ground level and not from behind the window of a tour bus and Istanbul’s wide walkways proved very pedestrian friendly. The smell of roasting chestnuts hung heavy in the air from the many street vendors, a tempting treat.

The area around the Topkapi Palace, Hagia Sophia and the Blue Mosque is a tourist magnet, especially the market area, the Grand Bazaar, with its many souvenir shops, carpet and antique shops and small hotels and restaurants. It is likely that upon stepping out from a taxi there you will be approached by a loquacious and gregarious sales person who will do his best to catch your attention, divert you from your planned route and invite you to visit his shop and maybe buy a carpet or two. If you have the time, visit the carpet shops, the level of craftsmanship on display is truly impressive. Turks are hospitable people and you will be seated and served a tea or coffee while the sales person and his assistants show you the best carpets in the shop. This is where you can hone your bargaining skills, it is expected I felt. Of course no one is under obligation to buy, but it’s mighty tempting.

When comparing Istanbul with our own wounded city Beirut I feel sad and hurt that we could not revive the same urban can do spirit, our old souks, the vibrant heart of the city, the down town. Instead we have in place of the old Aswak a high end open air mall and in place of our old down town business district we have a failed experiment courtesy of Solidere, shops empty and shuttered, restaurants struggling to find patrons, and what amounts to an open air museum.

Istanbul is only one and a half hour’s flying time from Beirut, Lebanese can visit without a visa, and there is always a lot to see and experience. For the stressed and frustrated Lebanese, it’s a welcome break, it was for me.