Istanbul

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Istanbul’s Hagia Sophia

Tuesday, June 12, 2012 in Istanbul, Turkey

Hagia Sophia

Inside the Hagia Sophia in Istanbul. Photo by David Lansing.

Sidar took me and two friends of his from Romania, Gimina and Delia, to the Hagia Sophia—the “church of holy wisdom.” Such a fascinating strutcture. Beautiful as both the Orthodox church it was and the mosque it became. Much has been written about Mustafa Kemal Ataturk, the father of the Turkish Republic. Following WWI, he did much (often in a brutal fashion) to drag Turkey kicking and screaming into the 20th century. It was Ataturk who convinced Turks to turn their back on the East and turn their vision to the West. The fez was outlawed. Ottoman script was replaced by the Latin alphabet and a new Turkish language. Schools and courts based on religious laws were abolished and, in 1928, a new civil constitution was recognized.

He also marginalized minorities in the country (although the Kurds have a different name for it: genocide). Over a million Greeks were sent packing back to Greece, their houses and businesses burned down or confiscated.

So, what does a man like Ataturk do when Christians clamor for restoring the Hagia Sophia to the church it once was while Muslims demand that it remain a mosque? He basically says a pox on both your houses: The Hagia Sophia will be neither a church nor a mosque. It will be a museum.

This is, perhaps, one of the benefits to being ruled by a strongman. There is no discussion of the issue. Elsewhere one faction or the other would have agitated for years and no doubt blood would have been spilt in the streets of Istanbul over whether the building should be a church or a mosque. But when Ataturk said the Hagia Sophia was going to be a museum, that was it. End of discussion. And in hindsight you’d have to say it was a brilliant solution. Now if only he could have been as sensible solving the problem of Kurdish independence.

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Hippie Trails and the Pudding Shop

Monday, June 11, 2012 in Istanbul, Turkey

The Pudding Shop. Photo by David Lansing.

Sidar and I were wandering somewhat aimlessly around the Sultanahmet neighborhood of Istanbul. It was hot and I was getting tired and hungry.

“I have a very special place where we’re going to have lunch,” he said.

It’s taken me awhile but I now realize that when Sidar says something like this what he really means is that he has no idea where we’re going to go but he’ll figure it out as we’re walking along. We were walking up Divanyolu, a pleasant if somewhat touristy street. There were a ton of restaurants but none of them looked quite right to Sidar. Until we hit the Pudding Shop.

“Ah,” he said happily. “We should eat here. The food is very good. And besides, it is a famous café in Istanbul.”

I’d heard of the Pudding Shop. It was to Istanbul in the 60s and 70s what the Thorn Tree Café in Nairobi was in the 40s and 50s—a hang-out for expats and bohemians as well as a central meeting place. Both were also known for their message boards where you might search for a ride or a room to crash or for a long-lost friend. At Istanbul’s Pudding Shop, it also wasn’t unusual to post love and apology letters (such as the one from Megan to Malcolm in which she asked for his forgiveness and apologized for “the business down in Greece.”)

There’s a movie there, don’t you think?

The Pudding Shop is actually the nickname of the Lale Restaurant. Back in the 60s when hippies passed through here on their way to Greece or Bulgaria, if they were headed for Europe, or Iran or Afghanistan, if they were headed for Asia, they’d agree to meet up at “the pudding shop” because they couldn’t remember the real name of the restaurant close to the Haghia Sophia. They just remembered that it served cheap but excellent Turkish pudding.

So, of course, in addtion to our köfte and stuffed grape leaves, we got little dishes of asure—Noah’s pudding—which is an odd mix of beans (fava, navy, chickpeas) and grain (barley and rice) with dried figs, apricots, and raisins. Now, I don’t know what the Noah’s pudding was like at the Pudding Shop during the 60s (undoubtedly part of the attraction was that it was cheap, nutritious, and filling) but this stuff was pretty disgusting (or, in fairness, maybe my taste buds just couldn’t get past the barley-dried figs-cinnamon combo). In any case, one or two bites was plenty.

Still, it was fun just to sit here and enjoy our Efes and imagine all the freaks that had passed this way a long, long time ago.

By the way, the map of the hippie trail is courtesy of Richard Gregory who traveled, at age 19, from the U.K. to India and Nepal back in 1974 and subsequently wrote a brief memoir of the trip almost 30 years later. If you’re curious about it, you can read A Brief History of the Hippie Trail here.

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Turkish ayran

Saturday, June 9, 2012 in Istanbul, Turkey

Turkish ayran. Photo from www.ayran.com.

It’s really starting to warm up in Istanbul. Today it was in the mid-80s and tomorrow they say it’s going to be hotter. So like many Istanbullus, I’ve started to drink more and more ayran, the ancient yogurt drink, to quench my thirst.

I have to admit that the first time I tried ayran, years ago, I thought it was kind of disgusting. Thick, salty, tart—that’s ayran. But then there’s that breakthrough moment where it’s hot, you’re a little dehydrated, and you’re eating some spicy kebab dish, and so you try a glass of minty ayran and realize that it’s the only thing that can appease your thirst. It reminds me of when I was traveling across the Sahara and, in the late afternoon when we’d stop to make camp, the first thing I wanted was a cup of hot tea.

In Turkey, ayran is such a fundamental drink that you can order it at McDonalds. I don’t know if it’s true, but Sidar has told me that they sell as much ayran at fast food joints in Istanbul as Coke. (This is interesting when you think of New York City recently banning the Big Gulp soft drinks; imagine if they started serving a healthy yogurt-based drink to kids instead.)

There’s nothing too mysterious in making ayran. All it takes is yogurt, water, a pinch of salt, and, if you like, some mint, whipping it all up in a blender for less than a minute. What makes ayran is the yogurt—it should be made with whole milk with a live yogurt culture and contain no starch or gelatin or flavors. Just plain whole milk yogurt. Turkish or Greek yogurt is the best, of course, but any natural yogurt without additional sugars or additives will do. The next time you’re having a spicy meal and it’s warm outside, give it a try. I think you’ll be surprised at how delicious it can be.

Here’s a very simple recipe:

Ayran

1/2 pint plain yogurt

1/2 pint water

pinch of salt

a little fresh chopped mint (if you like)

Put everything in a blender and blend for 30 to 45 seconds. Pour in a tall glass with a few ice cubes and add a little fresh mint for garnish.

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Istanbul: Building the Blue Mosque

Friday, June 8, 2012 in Istanbul, Turkey

This is what the prayer hall in the Blue Mosque looks like if you frame the photo to avoid the thousands of people kept behind a wooden barrier. Photos by David Lansing.

I find it fascinating that while the Blue Mosque is so revered in the Muslim world (and, actually, is one of the most famous religious buildings in the world), when it was built by the imperial architect, Mehmet Aga, between 1609-16, it evoked great hostility. All the devout Muslims were pissed off because they thought the mosque, with its six minarets, was a sacrilegious attempt to rival the architecture of Mecca.

Ah, the things we get worked up about.

At the time Sultan Ahmet I commissioned the mosque, things weren’t going so well in the Ottoman Empire. Sulleyman the Magnificent, who had died in 1566, was followed by a rather lackluster group of sultans who seemed more interested in eating and drinking than affairs of state (one of my favorite sultans of this time: Selim the Sot, so named because of his fondness for wine. Kind of says it all, don’t you think?).

Anyway, much of Istanbul burned in a great fire in 1569 and the locals were constantly on the edge of rioting because of the corruption and nepotism in the empire, so Ahmet the First did what any sensible sultan would do in these circumstances: He build the most splendourous mosque in the world, full of arabesque domes and wonderful stained glass windows and the famous blue Iznik tiles which give the mosque its name.

And, of course, those six minarets.

It is a beautiful building. Inside and out.

This photo was taken at the same time but shows the crowds.

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Please do not sit here

Thursday, June 7, 2012 in Istanbul, Turkey

That’s me. Sitting on the steps of the Blue Mosque. You probably think I did this on purpose. I didn’t. The thing is, when you come outside of the Blue Mosque, you have to put your shoes on. And there’s only this tiny little area with two small benches where you can sit. And they were jammed. So I walked in my stocking feet down a few steps of the mosque and sat down. And as I finished, Sidar, who was at the bottom of the steps told me to look up so he could take my picture. Which he did.

“Must you always break the rules?” he said with a grin, showing me the picture on the back of my camera.

I guess so. Even when I don’t mean to.

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