Where Europe Meets Asia

A hilarious 1990 song by a band called They Might Be Giants offers a brief geopolitcal lesson:

Istanbul was Constantinople/

Now it's Istanbul, not Constantinople/

Why did Constantinople get the works?/

That's nobody's business but the Turks

Last week we discovered that in a city as big and with as much rich history as Istanbul, there's plenty of room for Constantinople and Istanbul, for past and present, for East and West, for Christianity and Islam. From the sights to the sounds to the food, everything about the city spoke of a place on the edge of two very different continents. In short, it was one hell of a trip.

[Editor's note: To prevent this post from running as long as the Istanbul phone book (population: 12 million, fourth largest city in the world), I'll stick to the absolute highlights. As always, many more pictures can be found by clicking on "Our Photos" on the right sidebar.]

During our stay in the city, we (Jillian and I plus four other volunteers--Carolyn, Kathy, Erin, and Vanessa) stayed in a hostel in the most majestic section of town, Sultan Ahmed, which lies on the Golden Horn. We slept in the shadow of two of the most magnificent (and enormous) buildings we've ever seen, Ayasofya and the Blue Mosque.

Age before beauty: Ayasofya is a church built in the sixth century by Emperor Justinian of the Byzantine Empire. It's massive and is considered the height of Byzantine architecture with its towering dome. Its weathered exterior belies the elegant, cavernous scene we discovered upon entering.

And here's where things really got interesting. Ayasofya was the crown jewel of the empire until the city was finally conquered by the (Muslim) Ottoman Empire in 1453. Rather than pull a Taliban and destroy the church, Sultan Mehmet II chose to convert it into a mosque, which it remained until 1935 when it was made a museum. Thus the interior is decorated with symbols of both Christianity and Islam.

Directly across the Hippodrome (literally: "horse grounds", now a park) from Ayasofya is the Sultan Ahmed Blue Mosque, thus called because of the many blue tiles adorning the interior. Converting the old church into a mosque wasn't enough for the Ottoman ruler and so by 1616 a rival had been constructed. Not as large as Ayasofya, the Blue Mosque is far more beautiful from the outside. Its six minarets are the most for any mosque outside of Mecca (which apparently got the old sultan in a bit of hot water) and it is still a working mosque. Tourists are allowed inside, but all visitors must remove their shoes and women must cover their heads with scarves.

Venturing away from these historic temples, we found the streets of Istanbul busy and intoxicating. Witty merchants stood out in front of their shops, soliciting tourists and locals alike as they passed. A few of my favorite lines:
"How can I help you spend your money today?"
"May I hassle you a bit?"
"I have the perfect gift for your mother-in-law."

Real pros, clearly. For shoppers (this group doesn't really include me, but what can I say, I was traveling with five women) the Spice Bazaar and Grand Bazaar are must-sees. Affordable jewelry, scarves, pashminas, dresses, and perfumes abound. Notice I didn't mention anything for men, which explains why by the end of the trip the Jillian Gift Account had been depleted and the Dan Gift Account had been transferred into Jillian's name. Oh well. At least Effes, the local Turkish beer, was cheap.

When we first arrived the weather wasn't cooperating a whole lot, but by day three the sun was out and the temperature was into the 70s. We crossed over into an area of the city called Beyoglu which had a distinctly different feel from where we'd been. [Side note: Everywhere we walked I got the "Hey Sultan, is that your harem?" joke, followed by the kind of laugh that suggests the guy just thought that one up.] Climbing a hill, we accessed Galata Tower, a cylindrical structure built by the Byzantines as a lighthouse and then refurbished around 1350 to keep a watch on the city, most notably for fires. It now serves as an excellent, 360-degree vantage point from which to view the city, especially the Golden Horn and the entry point to the Bosporus Strait (more on that one later).


I really can't stress enough how impressed we were with the architecture of Istanbul. In addition to the aforementioned buildings, there were Topkapi Palace--sort of the Versailles of the Ottoman world--and Istanbul University. Both contained an air of regalness and sophistication, but also the sort of exoticness you'd expect in the last stop on the Orient Express.


Finally, our boat trip up the Bosporus. Istanbul rests on the Marmara Sea, a sort of inlet sea between the more mighty Aegean and Black Seas. To access the Black Sea from Istanbul, ships must pass through the Bosporus, a roughly 12-mile route lined with historic castles and palaces, as well as cute fishing villages and elegant seaside homes.

This was a real steal: the boat trip coast less than ten dollars and included a three-hour stopover in Anadolu Kavagi, one of those fishing villages and the last stop before the Black Sea. The weather was positively gorgeous as the boat made its 90-minute trek. We passed Rumeli Hisari, or Mighty Fortress of Europe, a castle built by the Ottoman Sultan Mehmet II (in only four months!) as he prepared to accomplish what many armies had tried and failed: to conquer Constantinople. At the age of 21 he succeeded and ushered in a few hundred years of Ottoman domination.

[On the subject of Turkish pride, one constant in Istanbul are the Turkish flags. They're everywhere--small, large, gargantuan. It's difficult to stand on any street corner and not see one flapping in the wind. Turkey is most certainly a very nationalistic society and that sentiment comes not from just being Turk, but from living in the Turkish state, which they see as a model of secularism and devoutness, modernity and tradition, and the bridge between Europe and Asia. The question of whether Turkey will someday join the European Union has been hotly debated as of late, and I'd be willing to bet that Istanbul is all for it. I couldn't help but notice that Turkish license plates look nearly identical to EU plates.]

The ship docked and we debarked for our three hours in Anadolu Kavagi, which lies on the Asian side of the Bosporus (much of Istanbul is in Europe). Above the town sits the ruins of Yoros Kalesi, a castle built by the Byzantine Empire and later used by the Ottomans. It's easy to see why a fortress was built there--the high position provides excellent views of the Bosporus and the Black Sea.



Concluding, I'd like to note that in their song about this city, They Might Be Giants also add this bit of dating advice:
All the girls in Constantinople/
Live in Istanbul, not Constantinople/
So if you've got a date in Constantinople/
She'll be waiting in Istanbul

If I learned anything from our trip, it's that in today's Istanbul it can be difficult to tell what era you might be standing near. Just to the right of Ayasofya is a tall stone structure, the last remnant of an old gate. At the base of that structure is the Milion, the zero-mile marker for the road that connected Rome to Constantinople. Transportation may have improved since then, but it seems safe to say that going east is still quite a trip.

Westside Story

I.

For such a small country, Macedonia sure has impressive geographic diversity. This is especially apparent now, as spring has set in and with it has come lush greenery and blossoms all over. Last week we made our first foray to the western third of Macedonia, a sort of north-south axis that comprises the cities of Tetovo, Gostivar, Kichevo, and the lake cities of Struga and Ohrid.

As our bus emerged from Skopje's city limits, the landscape opened up into a dazzling portrait of green mountains and picturesque villages, each one watched over by the towering minaret of its mosque (this region of Macedonia is predominantly ethnic Albanian Muslim). As the highway traced its path through the mountains, we soaked up the scenery, our excitement for the week building.

The occasion for our trip was a Peace Corps in-service training event held in Struga at a hotel straight out of Las Vegas, circa 1965. The four days in Struga were full of sessions on topics ranging from community project ideas to Macedonian history and politics (a particularly fascinating subject currently). It also gave us a chance to be together again as a group and to have fun exploring Struga and practicing our bowling game in the hotel's basement alley. Check out my form in this action shot (and note my flip flops):

II.
The training ended on Friday, and while most volunteers boarded buses back to their home sites, Jillian and I decided we couldn't pass up this opportunity to see Ohrid, tourist destination #1 in Macedonia. Just eight miles from Struga on the lake that shares its name, Ohrid has a rich history which includes being the probable birthplace of the Cyrillic alphabet and the capital of Tsar Samuil's empire. It was during this empire that Ohrid's Kale, or fortress, was built. Its remains still overlook the city.

For reference, there's Struga and Ohrid in the lower left-hand corner:


What can I say about Ohrid? It's incredible. It was a bright, warm (70's) day when we set out for a bit of a walking tour with our friend Erin, who has been there several times and knows all the local landmarks. We stayed with another volunteer friend, Karen, who we increasingly grew to envy as we walked around the beautiful town. There's a Peace Corps volunteer here?

We came away feeling like a visit to Ohrid is like a visit to an old Greek or Italian city, but for one third of the price. Cafes line the water's edge, a majestic fortress towers atop the city's hill, an active archeological site buzzes with diggers, and a handful of centuries-old churches dot the landscape. The streets are cobblestone and the houses are overflowing with charm and character.

Overwhelmed by Ohrid's embarrassment of photogenic riches, I made like my mom and kept the camera clicking somewhere into the many hundreds. Here's a few of our favorites, but to see a lot more go to "Our Photos" on the right sidebar.




III.
Then it was time to leave, at which point our story turns from fun and lovely to, well, tedious and unending. We had decided ahead of time to use this opportunity to make a brief stop in Chashka to see our host family. Since that little village is on the train line, taking the train from southern Macedonia to Skopje via Chashka seemed logical.

When I was retelling this story yesterday to Kristina, a teacher I work with, she simply replied: "Why would you ever take the train?" Oh yeah, tell me now. Besides, we've taken it before and really enjoyed it in all its rumbling, smoke-filled glory.

We'd heard the train ride through the south is one of the prettiest in all the country, so we were excited as the train pulled out of the Bitola station on another bright, warm day. We had a cabin all to ourselves and were downright giddy at the thought of our host mother's homemade bread and wine for dinner. A simple two-hour ride through the heart of Macedonia and we'd be in Chashka for the night before continuing on home.

On the train, in happier times

Twenty minutes later, the train began to slow. Then it stopped. There was a conference of men at the base of the lead train, followed by some muttering. We know just enough Macedonian to understand that the train was broken ("расипан") and a new one had to come save us. So we waited...

Almost five hours later, the emergency train arrived. We could barely muster the strength to celebrate. Thirsty, hot, and irritated, we just wanted the train to start moving. Funny, I seem to remember receiving an email from headquarters about traveling in Macedonia and I believe one recommendation was to always have extra food and water, especially when traveling by train.

I should also mention that Jillian was in the full throes of food poisoning (something a bunch of volunteers came down with in Struga), making her traveling experience extra pleasant. We arrived in Chashka after dark and Lela took us in like refugees, fed us, and totally understood when we wanted to go to bed shortly thereafter. We were leaving the next day (by train!) at 5:30am.

I'm happy to report that the second installment of train riding was smooth, save for the two men who insisted on smoking all the way to Skopje in our commuter-crammed train car. We got back to our town just in time to head off to school. We were happy to be back.

On Saturday we're off to Istanbul with four other volunteers for six days. Until next time, chao!

Monastery Mexican Madness

Last weekend, following the high school debates, Jillian and I played host to a group of volunteers from around Macedonia for a couple of days of hiking and tortilla rolling. Even though our much-vaunted local monastery is only a mere 1.5 miles from the center of town, we optioned for a roundabout, eight-mile hike during which we climbed far above the monastery and approached from behind.

The temperature was in the 70s and the sun was shining as we made our way out of town and into the foothills. After a couple hours of climbing the winding trail, we made a hard left turn and descended the ridge towards our destination.

We hadn't actually attempted this hike before and as the monastery came into view in the distance we found ourselves bedeviled by a common theme in Macedonian hiking: unmarked trails. Sure, we can see where we want to go, but how the heck do we get there, we asked ourselves as we stood at a wooded intersection. After some indecisive backtracking and an ill-advised attempt to forget the trail altogether and make a beeline through the woods, we finally guessed the correct route and found our way down. Our guests must have been seriously impressed. Luckily for us the monastery sells beer.

After the monastery came the mexican food: tortillas rolled, vegetables diced, and chicken grilled, we devoured our self-styled smorgasbord of taco delight.

Along the trail towards the monastery

At the monastery on a beautiful day