<![CDATA[The Guide Istanbul | Istanbul 101 - History & Culture Articles RSS Feed]]> http://www.theguideistanbul.com/rss/ Tue, 22 May 2012 03:03:09 +0300 Tue, 22 May 2012 03:03:09 +0300 <![CDATA[Private Practice]]>

Behind our fascination with the imperial harem lies a curious question: how could such a private place have played such a public role in Ottoman history? From the moment you enter the gates of the harem, a general air of privacy and intimacy engulfs you. It is a sacred place, after all; the word “harem” itself implies grounds forbidden to strangers. But it was from this extremely private domain that various public affairs of a great empire were decided. This surely presents us with a paradox. In today’s democratic world, a private place with such a public function surprises and excites us. We imagine ourselves sharing the privileged position of living privately public lives in the fashion of monarchs. Putting one’s energy into dealing with private matters while ruling continents seems like the best of both worlds.
For any republican or socialist worthy of their name, these privileges are surely unacceptable relics of a regrettable past. I also had little sympathy for such aristocratic locales. The popular interest in the private lives of monarchs was something I found deeply objectionable. So when I visited Paris for the first time as a fifteen-year-old, I was simply repulsed by the existence of Versailles. In London, I looked the other way at the sight of royal palaces. And in Amsterdam, to the dismay of my Dutch friends, I boasted that not only did I have no positive feelings about royal families, but also that back home I have never paid a single visit to our much-famed Imperial Harem.
But all that changed a few months ago. The sight of a madman who broke into Topkapı Palace last year with a hunting rifle transformed my deep irreverence towards the private histories of Ottoman monarchs. The shooter who unsuccessfully tried to commit a massacre was quickly gunned down by a SWAT team. Watching the scenes from my TV set, the royal palace suddenly seemed like a vulnerable place that might be taken away from me. It was not an eternal but a fragile thing, I realized, something that represented a particular moment in history. I also found myself agreeing with the French philosopher Michel Foucault that the sphere of the “private” might actually be the most public place imaginable, and that without paying proper attention to such private places, it would be impossible to understand any form of political power.
So I decided to finally pay my pilgrimage to the harem. For preparation, I watched The Glorious Century, the popular TV series which portrays the intimate life there in extensive detail. I learned that its episodes were shot on location on Tuesdays, and that the Harem was closed to the public on those days as a result. So I made up my mind to visit the place on a Wednesday.
Reading the newspapers on the morning of my visit, I was surprised to find a juicy article penned by a quartet of male journalists. After confessing that they had never visited the harem, these journalists went on to set up their own imaginary harems (one writer included Patricia Highsmith and Virginia Woolf as concubines). This article made use of the harem as a public place where private fantasies could be contemplated. And now it suddenly seemed as if the harem was the talk of the town and that there was no escaping from it.
For some commentators, the interest shown in serials like The Glorious Century and the growing ticket sales for the harem are signs of an increasingly conservative culture. But watching the episodes and visiting the harem reminded me of quite a different fact— it is a place that challenges our beliefs. Take women, for example. Ottoman women were, in fact, quite powerful in the private sphere to which they were confined; they might not have had political “rights” in the European sense, but in terms of influence, they could not have been stronger. So rather than their confinement, the palace might actually be a symbol of the empowerment of women.
Once inside the place, I quickly walked through the apartments of the Queen Mother, where my attention was grabbed by the beauty of the tiles on the walls. These walls spoke of mixed realities. On the one hand, they preserved the privacy of the sultan’s mother and relatives, and delighted the beholders with their beauty. But for concubines and slaves, they were walls of confinement, and perhaps there was little beauty to be found on the tiles. Walking through the cold rooms, I came to the realization that in this place, everything was double-edged, and that the harem was equally a place of absolute power and absolute submission.
Then I made my way through the dormitories of harem eunuchs, to the main entrance. The close proximity of the lodgings of servants and their rulers was surprising. In such a supposedly “hierarchical” society, I wondered, how did they distinguish themselves?
The answer to my question is probably an architectural one. The imperial harem’s layout and some of its design attest to the genius of Mimar Sinan, the most eminent architect in Ottoman history. The buildings were divided between teams of servants, each fulfilling a different function in the palace. These distinct places were connected through various courtyards and hallways, which also served to keep those spheres distinct from each other. With this model, the sultan’s mother and eunuchs could inhabit the same place without any difficulties—they could live together, each preserving their own sphere of influence.
This model of division used a similarly architecturally ingenious method of security. Through a pair of very large mirrors placed in the main entrance of the harem, trespassers could be carefully monitored. The entrance that houses these mirrors is situated in a crucial intersection. From there, you can make your way either through the sultan’s quarters, the court of concubines, or the court of the sultan’s mother. The sinister but effective placement of these mirrors surely made life very difficult for those who secretly tried to change their spheres. The fact that the guards there would stand in the dark made it impossible to know whether there was anyone on guard. But did it really matter? Once one’s image appeared on the mirror, it was available for others to see and this was enough protection for the monarchs.
Jeremy Bentham, the inventor of the panopticon system in England’s prisons, would be jealous of such a simple solution. In his model, cells of convicts were seen by an invisible center and all prisoners were therefore required to behave themselves or face punishment. In similar fashion, keeping up appearances seems to have been a challenge both for concubines and the sultan’s relatives in the harem. All this adds to our understanding of the palace as a crucially “theatrical” setting, where power was exercised essentially as a visual, almost dramatic affair.
However interesting the courtyard of the eunuchs, the apartments of the odalisques, or the baths (currently closed to the public) might be, my candidate for the most impressive part of the harem is the imperial hall, where the sultan’s throne and the upper galleries present us with the same paradox between public and private spheres. The public and absolute power represented by the sultan’s throne appears in stark contrast to the private aura of the upper galleries that were reserved for ladies and the sultan’s mother.
Before leaving the place with an extended walk along the golden road, I realized that the paradox I found between the intimacy of the place and its political power had not been resolved in my mind. In fact, it was much heightened, and now seemed to transform into an undecipherable mystery. One can only speculate about the inner workings of such a complex political structure, just like we enjoy doing during our common fantasies or through that popular television series. It is indeed a hard nut to crack, but its pleasure lies in trying to crack it open. As we try to fathom the mystery, a public question gradually becomes our very own private affair.
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http://www.theguideistanbul.com/articles/istanbul101/history-culture/private-practice-603.html http://www.theguideistanbul.com/articles/istanbul101/history-culture/private-practice-603.html Mon, 30 Apr 2012 21:34:00 +0300
<![CDATA[An Introduction to Football in Turkey: An Evening at the Derby]]> Understanding Turkish culture requires an understanding of the love that Turkish people have for football. This sport moves people’s passions to the point of delirium. Turkish football fans not just support their team and cheer for them, but they follow and analyze every move of their favorite teams in the papers, wear cloths adorned with their team’s symbols and logos, and endlessly talk about the matches with friends as well as strangers in every kind of social situation.

Even though football is played all around Turkey, Istanbul is its center because it’s home to the three biggest teams: Galatasaray (The Lions), Fenerbahçe (The Yellow Canaries) and Beşiktaş (The Eagles). These three teams have the biggest fan base and they have won most of the titles of the Turkish Super League, which has been played since 1958. The rivalry between these three teams is uncanny and, according to their fans, every match they play is a sacred battle of pride and honor.

And no match is more important or more representative of the football craze in the Turkish football calendar than the Intercontinental Derby between Fenerbahçe and Galatasaray. This match mobilizes more than half the fans in Turkey (33\\% of football fans support Galatasaray and 29\\% support Fenerbahçe), paralyzing the country for 90 minutes.

Daniel Silva from The Guide Istanbul team went to one of these legendary matches held on Saturday, 17th March 2012 to report back on what it feels like to be at a stadium surrounded by screaming fans.

First things first: A Short History of Football in Turkey

Though invented by the British, football arrived quickly to the shores of İzmir and Istanbul during the second half of the 19th century. British soldiers and tradesmen played football in front of Ottoman crowds. While an edict banned Muslim Turks to play it, it didn’t ban them from watching the spectacle brought by Greek, Armenian, Jewish, and British football players in the meadows of Kadıköy and Moda where the first matches took place.

At the end of the 19th century, Muslim Turks played for the first time in a football team named the Black Stockings (formed by the British). Even though the players in that team were arrested during a match, Muslim Turks mounted pressure and were soon allowed to form their own teams.

Galatasaray, formed by the students of the Galatasaray high school in 1905, was the first Turkish team to join one of the local leagues in 1906. Fenerbahçe followed the steps of their future rivals in 1907 when a group of players from Kadıköy got together. But in fact it was Beşiktaş that was the first team to be formed by Muslim Turks in 1903 (even though they didn’t become active until around 1911).

The first derby between Galatasaray and Fenerbahçe was held in Kadıköy in 1909. This friendly beginning, however, turned into vicious competition by 1934 when Istanbul witnessed its first football riots during a Galatasaray-Fenerbahçe match, marking the beginning of the brutal rivalry between the two teams.

The Week before the Derby

Before every Intercontinental Derby, most Istanbulites will be anxiously awaiting the match and talking about it. The match will be on the cover of newspapers and magazines and the topic of incessant conversation on TV. You’ll also see ads all around town in cafes and restaurants, promoting their discounts for those who want to watch the match at their spot.

Best restaurants to watch the game

When there’s an important match like the Intercontinental Derby, football fans head to various kebab restaurants, bars, and cafes to watch the game with their friends. You’ll even see large screens on the streets that show the match. We suggest you head toVengefor kebab and rakı,Tapson the European Side and Havelka on the Asian Side for fries and beer.

On March 17th 2012, the two teams were meeting in Fenerbahçe’s Şükrü Şaracoğlu stadium in Kadıköy. As always, tensions were very high before the match for which the tickets sold out in merely 5 minutes. We were one of the lucky 51,000 football fans who had the chance to watch the game at the stadium and enjoy what would turn out to be an extremely exciting match.

What to Expect Before the Match

Traffic, police, hooligans, but more importantly the excitement of fans. Getting to the stadium is likely to be an odyssey regardless of where the match is held. A couple of hours before the match, we boarded the metrobus on the European side to get to the Asian side. It was not until our fourth attempt that we were finally able to climb into one of the buses that made each passenger feel like a sardine in a box.

Tips

On the night of a big match like this, traffic tends to be worse and public transportation tends to get much more crowded than usual. Taking the metrobus, ferry, tram, or the subway is always smarter than driving on such nights.

First time derby-goers will immediately notice the intense security measures that the police take to protect football fans from hooligans. In the past three decades, hooliganism has become a problem in Turkey, with all sorts of violence including riots, fights, and arson taking place at stadiums. In fact, Fenerbahçe has been banned from having their male fans in the stadium several times for this reason.

That being said, the presence of the police doesn’t hinder the fans’ experience. Fans still enjoy beer on the streets (as alcohol is not allowed inside the stadium) accompanied by the famous Tükürük Köftesi (which literally means spit meatballs and which should be eaten at your own risk). When going to the stadium, expect to wait in line for some time (maybe half an hour) and beware that you’ll be subjected to heavy inspection by the police. Fireworks, weapons, umbrellas, cigarettes, food, and drinks are banned and are immediately confiscated by the police. In addition, anything that signals being a fan of the opposing team (Galatasaray in this case) is also forbidden inside simply for your own safety (hardcore fans will beat you up if they see you with anything that represents the opposing team – this includes wearing colors that represent them).

Once you’re inside, you’ll feel the electrifying energy of the stadium slowly fill you as you anxiously wait for the match to begin. This obviously won’t be a quiet wait – fans will be singing songs, cheering, jumping up and down, waving flags, and screaming at the top of their lungs at all times.

As the teams enter the field, you’ll sense a general anxiety rising. On Saturday night’s game, Fenerbahçe first cheered on for their superstars and then began cursing Galatasaray’s players as well as their families. If you know any Turkish, prepare to hear some of the most obscure curses during this time. Once the cursing stops, the national anthem is sang, the players shake hands, the ball is set at the center, and everything is ready for what is about to be a great match.

What’s happening in Istanbul during the match?

More than half the population is with friends and family somewhere with a TV ready to watch the match. The broadcast has started hours earlier with cameras literally following teams to the stadium, sports commentators going over the line ups and the history of the match over and over, and advertisers drowning viewers in advertising in this Superbowl-like event. Everyone is ready with a drink in hand, sunflower seeds on the table, and a t-shirt or scarf in blue-yellow or red-yellow.

The Derby

The match starts and quickly Senegalese Moussa Sow from Fenerbahçe scores an amazing goal as he receives a cross pass from the left and does a half bicycle kick in midair. Six minutes later, Brazilian superstar and fan favorite Alex de Souza scores another magnificent goal for the canaries from mid-distance to the upper left corner. The crowd roars in celebration. Now, everybody is talking about repeating the 6-0 humiliation that Galatasaray suffered in 2002. The supporters from the Genç Fenerbahçeliler group (Fenerbahçe’s most hardcore fan group) scream from the top of their voices “Sarı, Lacivert, Şampiyon Fener”. In the excitement of the moment, Fenerbahçe makes a huge defensive mistake and Galatasaray takes advantage of the empty spaces left by the canaries. After a superb pass by Necati Ateş, Swedish striker Johann Elmander scores a goal that immediately silences the stadium. Long worried faces of men grabbing their faces with their hands, empty looks at the pitch, and the incessant cursing show the gloomy mood that has fallen on the tribunes as we head towards half time.

For the second half, Fenerbahçe changes its tactic and defends itself with everything they’ve got. But, as patient ants building a nest, Galatasaray slowly destroys the Fenerbahçe lines and reaches the tier in a rather confusing play by Hakan Balta. It is 2-2, and by now, Fenerbahçe fans are reaching the point of despair. Whistles and boos come from the tribune to the Fenerbahçe players as they pointlessly try to play against a much superior Galatasaray. All singing has stopped. The mostly male crowd redirects their terrible curses at the Fenerbahçe players who now seem unable to do much. After 4 minutes of extra time, the referee points at the center of the pitch signaling the end to this adrenalin-fueled match in which both teams displayed their best football and showed why they are the best teams in Turkey.

After the Match

The stadium slowly emptied as the lines for the exit were fairly long. A mixture of anger and sadness gulped in the fans’ throats as they saw their championship aspirations go down the drain. Most went directly back home by taking a bus, train, or ferry to their neighborhoods. We decided it would be easier to stick around and wait for the streets to empty. As we walked towards Kadıköy’s Barlar Caddesi to grab a beer after such an exciting match, I thought about those first Turks that saw the British mariners play on the meadows that used to cover this part of the city and fell in love with the game. After watching this great Derby (the players, the stadium, and the fans) it is now easier to understand the magic of football which has captivated audiences in Turkey, and has made it an integral part of Turkey’s culture today.

Check out Biletix for upcoming matches and to buy your tickets.

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http://www.theguideistanbul.com/articles/istanbul101/history-culture/an-introduction-to-football-in-turkey-an-evening-at-the-derby-546.html http://www.theguideistanbul.com/articles/istanbul101/history-culture/an-introduction-to-football-in-turkey-an-evening-at-the-derby-546.html Tue, 20 Mar 2012 17:13:00 +0200
<![CDATA[Turkish Islam: An Exceptional Story]]>

Compared to Arabs, Turks were latecomers to the Muslim faith. The former were politically and intellectually more advanced until the 13th century, when the Arabs’ brilliant civilization was nearly destroyed by one of the most devastating conquests ever, the Mongol invasion. The formation of new global trade routes from the Middle East and the Levant to the oceans initiated a process that would steadily impoverish the Arab world, which owed much of its wealth to trade. The long-term result was the stagnation of the Arab peoples.
Meanwhile, leadership of the Islamic community was passing to the Turks, who created powerful states under the successive Seljuk and Ottoman dynasties. The Ottoman state extended its borders towards both the west and the east, and, in the 16th and much of the 17th centuries, acted as the world’s foremost superpower.
The political power of the Turks and their continual interaction with the western world gave them an important insight: They faced the rise of modernity. The Ottoman elite had to rule an empire, make practical decisions, adopt new technologies, and reform existing structures, all of which allowed them to understand and cope with secular realities. Sociologist Şerif Mardin defines the consequent praxis as “Ottoman secularity”, and notes that Ottomans started to discover “Western ways” more than two centuries before the founding of the Turkish Republic.
The 18th-century discovery of Europe by Ottoman bureaucrats resulted in the famous “Imperial Gülhane Decree of 1839”, also known as the Tanzimat Edict, which introduced the ideas of supremacy of law and modern citizenship to the empire. In a second substantive reform edict, in 1856, the dhimmi (“protected”) status of Jews and Christians was abolished, and they gained equal citizenship rights.
Later in the 19th century, the Ottoman Empire accepted a constitution that guaranteed equal rights for citizens, and opened an elected parliament in which all peoples of the empire were represented. Muslim thinkers such as Namık Kemal made Islamic arguments in favor of liberal democracy, and Islamic feminists began arguing for equal rights for women.
This much-forgotten Ottoman modernization ended with the demise of the empire in the First World War. From its ruins, what we now call the Middle East arose with a doomed legacy: almost all post-Ottoman states were colonized by European powers, a phenomenon that would soon breed anti-colonialism and anti-Westernism throughout the entire region. These sentiments also brought about the end of what the great historian of the Middle East, Albert Hourani, has called the “liberal age” of the Arab world: basically, the Arabic counterpart of Ottoman modernization.
But Turkey was never colonized. As an ever-independent nation, it continued its modernization process while not facing any backlash from its pious Muslim citizens.
During much of the 20th century, the number one threat for Turkey’s pious Muslims was “godless communism”, and the free world was perceived as a valuable ally against that hated threat. Probably the most influential Islamic thinker in Turkey in the last hundred years, Said Nursi, repeatedly called for an alliance between Christianity and Islam against communism and its underlying materialist philosophy.
Turkish Islam has also been free of anti-Semitism. The Ottoman Empire welcomed the Jews that were expelled from Spain in 1492, and ever since, Jews have lived peacefully in Turkish lands. The Arab-Israeli conflict, although it has generated sympathy among Turks for the plight of the Palestinians, never created widespread hatred of Jews.
Despite all this, it is true that Turkey has had its own radical Islamist movements, especially since the early 1980s. But they have not been homegrown. Arab, Pakistani, and Iranian ideologues of radical Islam, such as Sayyid Qutb, Sayyid Abul-Ala Mawdudi, and Ali Shariati, inspired a generation of Turkish Islamists who deeemed the traditional praxis of their ethnic-religious community too pacifist. The political Islamism that would carry Necmettin Erbakan’s Refah (“Welfare”) party to power in 1996 was also of foreign origin: It was modeled on the Egyptian Muslim Brotherhood and exploited the radicalism of the aforementioned Islamist youth. But in the late 1990s, this movement lost steam. Its more liberal faction gave birth to the Justice and Development Party (AKP), which has been in power since November 2002 and has proved itself one of the most reformist governments in Turkish history.
Today, too, Turkey’s Islamic heritage is not an obstacle to its ongoing modernization and democratization. On the contrary, it actually sometimes helps these processes, as when advocates of pluralism refer to the Ottoman past in order to criticize the narrow nationalist views that deny the rights of minorities.
That is also why Turkey is often viewed as an inspiration to those in the Arab world who wish to build their own democratic nations. The recent wave of revolutions against Arab dictators, i.e. “the Arab Spring”, has been positively influenced by Turkey’s growing soft power in the region, as it allows democratically minded Muslims to point to a government that exemplifies their dreams. Turkish Prime Minister Tayyip Erdoğan further stressed this role in his recent trips to Egypt, Libya, and Tunisia, where he supported democratization and even spoke in favor of a secular state. A secular state which “stays an equal distance from all religious groups, including Muslim, Christian, Jewish, and atheist people,” is the best political model, Erdoğan said, and that is what Muslims should strive for.
To be sure, Turkey needs to work more within its own borders to consolidate and advance its democracy. But it is already a success story in its region. And this success did not come in spite of its religion, as some have assumed. On the contrary, Turkish Islam has contributed to Turkey’s democracy.
Mustafa Akyol is a Turkish journalist, and the author of the recently released Islam Without Extremes: A Muslim Case for Liberty (W.W. Norton)
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http://www.theguideistanbul.com/articles/istanbul101/history-culture/turkish-islam-an-exceptional-story-405.html http://www.theguideistanbul.com/articles/istanbul101/history-culture/turkish-islam-an-exceptional-story-405.html Sun, 04 Dec 2011 19:37:00 +0200
<![CDATA[Hürrem Sultan]]> Ottoman sultans were renowned for their patronage of art and architecture, one rarely equaled by the rulers of other great empires. It was the duty and prerogative of a sultan to commission monumental architectural complexes that incorporated religious, charitable, and educational institutions. These complexes, known as külliyes, were supported by endowments funded by agricultural, industrial, and commercial revenues. The best architects and artisans of the empire were employed in the creation of imperial külliyes, which not only served the public but also displayed the sultans’ immense wealth and power.

The most splendid structures were built during the reign of Sultan Süleyman the Magnificent (reigned 1520-66) whose empire extended from Tabriz to Vienna. During this period, which is known as the golden age of Ottoman art and architecture, the Ottomans controlled the crucial link between three continents (Asia, Europe, and Africa) as well as the surrounding seas.

It was not only Süleyman who commissioned and endowed large architectural complexes but also two outstanding ladies in his family: his daughter Mihrimah Sultan, and his wife Hürrem Sultan. Hürrem was an exceptional woman in Ottoman history. She is thought to have been of Russian, Ukrainian or Polish origin, captured by marauders and sold as a slave to the Ottoman court in the Crimea some time in the late 1510s, when Süleyman was serving there as governor.

As was customary with the Sultan’s concubines, Hürrem was taught proper court etiquette, educated, and given a Turkish name, Hürrem, meaning “the smiling and endearing one.” Her intelligence, composure, and personality captivated Süleyman, and she soon became his confidante and one and only love. In contrast to Ottoman imperial practice, Süleyman married Hürrem, becoming the only sultan (with the exception of a 19th-century ruler) to officially take a wife. His devotion for Hürrem continued after her death, as observed in the poems he wrote bemoaning her absence and his loneliness.

Hürrem’s power and influence over the sultan intrigued both the Ottomans and the Europeans. The Europeans called her Roxelane (the Russian) or La Rosa (the red one), presumably referring to the color of her hair, which must have been red or auburn, as suggested by one of Süleyman’s poems in which he calls her “my orange.”

As a Haseki (a title given to a royal wife, literally “belonging to the ruler”), Hürrem accumulated immense wealth, and used these funds to build and support architectural complexes in Istanbul and Jerusalem in addition to those in Ankara, Edirne and Mecca. In 1539, she commissioned the newly appointed royal architect Sinan to design and build a group of buildings that included a mosque, a medrese (university), and a school. The complex called the Haseki Külliyesiwas constructed in a district in Istanbul known as Avrat Pazarı, which came to be called Haseki, the name it bears today. In the early 1550s, a hospital for women and a soup kitchen were added to the complex; the mosque was enlarged in the early 17th century.

The Haseki Külliyesi is unique on several accounts. First, it is Sinan’s first commission as royal architect, a product of his early years before he became world-famous for numerous structures – ranging from mosques to bridges – built throughout the empire. Second, the Haseki Külliyesi was commissioned by the wife of a sultan, funded by her own money, and supported by an endowment set up in perpetuity. Finally, it included a (still-functioning) hospital for women. The vakfiye (deed of endowment) established by Hürrem Sultan for her Haseki Külliyesi is a meticulous document stipulating the salaries and duties of the staff, the types of meals to be served, and the source of income for staff expenses and building maintenance. It is a model for such documents set up for charitable institutions, even today.

Hürrem’s second endowment is even more unusual. Known as the Haseki Hürrem Sultan Hamamı (Bathhouse), the two sides of this hamam (the men’s section and the women’s section) mirror each other. Built across the street from the famous 6th-century Byzantine church of Aya Sofya (converted into a mosque after the conquest of Istanbul in 1453 and now a museum), the building is unique among Istanbul hamams. Each half has two domed units, one large and one small, creating a harmonious silhouette. One of the few still-intact historical hamams in Istanbul, it was used as an exhibition gallery until recently. Today, it serves a luxurious Turkish bath.

Hürrem was a self-made woman who excelled in her role as the supportive and assertive wife of the most powerful man of the age. Her personality can be best studied in the letters she wrote to her husband when he was away on military campaigns. (Süleyman undertook more than a dozen campaigns in both Eastern Europe and western Asia during his lifetime and was often on the road for months at a time). In her letters, Hürrem relates the activities of the court and her family, and even sends Süleyman shopping lists. In one instance, she requests “something called cologne” which she heard was quite popular, referring to perfume from the German city of Cologne which was the rage in Europe at the time. As the wife of the sultan, she felt confident and assured enough to send a letter to the new king of Poland (who was Süleyman’s ally), congratulating him on his accession.

Hürrem was the first woman to take up residence in Topkapı Palace, which had originally been designated as the administrative and educational headquarters of the empire. The women of the royal family lived in what was then called the Old Palace (now the site of Istanbul University) and did not reside in Topkapı Palace until the late 16th century. Hürrem complained that her children missed their father since he was away so often, and since, when he was in Istanbul, he worked late in his offices at Topkapı. Then, one day, a mysterious fire broke out in her suites at the Old Palace, forcing her to relocate to Topkapı Palace. Hürrem had succeeded in remaining close to her beloved husband.

In return, Süleyman fully supported Hürrem in every way, his love and devotion for her lasting until his death. The sultan’s most beautifully executed tuğras (imperial monograms), decorated with exquisite illuminations, appear on the fermans (edicts) drawn up to sponsor Hürrem’s endowments, setting aside revenues from farming and commercial activities to provide funds for these charitable foundations. The sultan’s poems, written under the pseudonym Muhibbi (meaning the “lover” or “dear friend”) further attest to his love for and devotion to this remarkable slave girl who captured the heart of the most powerful man in the world.

Hürrem died in 1558. During her nearly fifty-year marriage to Süleyman, she gave birth to five sons and one daughter. Three of her sons died during her lifetime; the remaining two fought for the throne, and one survived to become Sultan Selim II (reigned 1566-74). The most illustrious of her children was her daughter Mihrimah Sultan, who inherited her mother’s high intelligence, shrewd personality, and strong interest in patronage.

Hürrem is entombed in a domed octagonal structure erected in the cemetery behind the Süleymaniye Complex in Istanbul. This complex, designed by Sinan, encompasses over a dozen buildings surrounding the Süleymaniye Mosque. Next to her tomb is an impressive mausoleum built for Süleyman, who died during a campaign in Hungary in 1566. Even in death, Hürrem stayed by Süleyman’s side.

Originally published in The Guide Istanbul Sept/Oct 2008. Updated on 6 January 2012.

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http://www.theguideistanbul.com/articles/istanbul101/history-culture/hurrem-sultan-377.html http://www.theguideistanbul.com/articles/istanbul101/history-culture/hurrem-sultan-377.html Thu, 17 Nov 2011 18:09:00 +0200
<![CDATA[The Grand Bazaar]]> As often with tourist sites in Istanbul, there is a slight discrepancy between the English and Turkish names of the Grand Bazaar, known locally as the Kapalı Çarşı or Covered Market. The Turkish word pazar (also the word for Sunday) generally refers to a once- or twice-a-week open-air market, of the kind that is still common in Istanbul. Çarşı, on the other hand, means a marketplace (not necessarily roofed) with stores in fixed locations. The word, borrowed from Persian, originally meant “four ways” or “four streets,” referring to the streets that run through such marketplaces at right angles.

The Grand Baazar is very high on most tourists’ itineraries, and with good reason. This enormous site is the largest still-existing covered market in the world, spanning an area of tens of thousands of square meters. While the layout of the Bazaar is relatively geometric (in comparison to, say, the famously labyrinthine medina of Fez), the size of the place and the profusion of goods for sale still make it easy to lose one’s bearings. The Bazaar can boast a total of 64 streets and no fewer than 22 entrances, the most commonly used ones being the Beyazıt Kapısı and the Nuruosmaniye Kapısı.

The original historical core of the Bazaar is the İç Bedesten, completed by Mehmet II (or Mehmet the Conqueror) in 1461. A bedesten (the word is a Persian borrowing) refers to an indoor arcade with shops; the İç Bedesten or Interior Bedesten has thus become a building-within-a-building in the Grand Bazaar. This area, the oldest section of the entire Bazaar, is also known as the Cevahir Bedesteni or Jewel Bedesten, as jewels, gold, and other precious items were, and still are, sold within its well-guarded precincts. The second oldest part of the bazaar is the Sandal Bedesteni further to the Northeast, also called the Yeni (New) Bedesten since it was built later than the İç Bedesten. The name of the Sandal Bedesteni is a bit deceptive. It was originally a place to buy not boats (the meaning of sandal in present-day Turkish) but rather a type of luxury cloth known as sandal, made in Bursa – a center of textile production then as now. Though sandal can no longer be found there, the Sandal Bedesteni still continues to be a venue for buyers and sellers of rugs, carpets, and kilims, as well as other textiles.

The original bedesten has been known by no fewer than five different names throughout its history: İç Bedesten (the Inner Bedesten), Bedesten-i-Atık (another term for the Inner Bedesten in Ottoman Turkish), Büyük Bedesten (the Big Bedesten), Eski Bedesten (the Old Bedesten), and Cevahir Bedesteni (the Jewel Bedesten.)

Over the years the Grand Bazaar expanded from this core of two bedestens to become a sprawling roofed complex of thousands of shops, fringed by the tradesmen’s inns/workshops known as hans. According to the Ottoman traveller Evliya Çelebi’s Seyahatname, by the 17th century the Kapalı Çarşı (or the Çarşı-yı-Kebir as it was then known) had already reached its present size, with over 4000 shops, plus nearly 500 stalls known in Turkish as dolap (literally “cupboards”). In addition there were various other amenities for the merchants who worked there: restaurants, a hamam, and a mosque, plus at least ten smaller mescits or prayer rooms. Today, this city-within-a-city contains a police station, a health dispensary, a post office, branches of most major banks, and (last but not least) a tourist information center.

In comparison with street-names in the English-speaking world, those in Turkey are often very picturesque, and the names of the streets in the Grand Bazaar – referring to their original functions – are no exception. Takkeciler Caddesi is literally “Skullcap-makers’ Street”; Aynacılar Sokak was for sellers of mirrors; Halıcılar Caddesi was where carpet-sellers plied their trade; and Keseciler Caddesi was for vendors of the kese, the rough exfoliating cloth used to scrub oneself in a hamam.

The Grand Bazaar has been damaged numerous times in its 500+ year history, both by fires and by the earthquakes with which Turkey is periodically plagued. The earthquake of 1894, approximately 7.0 on the Richter scale, wrought particularly heavy damage to the complex, and its present appearance reflects extensive renovations undertaken after this earthquake. More recently, in 1954 a terrible fire (started by an electrical spark) spread throughout the Bazaar; due to the narrowness of space and the basic firefighting technology of the time, it took 489 firefighters a record 28 days to completely extinguish this fire.

While the Grand Bazaar has not been the commercial center of Istanbul for quite some time, it is still one of the best places to get a taste of life in Ottoman-era Turkey. Unfortunately, much of the quaint merchandise once sold there is no longer available, and (it has to be said) parts of the Bazaar are now given over to cheap mass-produced goods and tourist kitsch. Nonetheless, with a little planning, it is still a good place to shop – and of course to window-shop. For advice on where to buy specific products in the Bazaar, see The Guide’s related article, available here. Exploring the Grand Bazaar is an experience no visitor to Istanbul should pass up.

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http://www.theguideistanbul.com/articles/istanbul101/history-culture/the-grand-bazaar-300.html http://www.theguideistanbul.com/articles/istanbul101/history-culture/the-grand-bazaar-300.html Wed, 21 Sep 2011 18:06:00 +0300
<![CDATA[Museum Break: Cool Museums To Beat The Summer Heat]]> In Istanbul the summers are hot and the tourists are plentiful but here are two places you can go to take a break from the crowds and the temperatures while enjoying some of the best sights the city has to offer. Take one of the many boats travelling up the Bosphorus to the village of Beylerbeyi on the Asian shore and experience the same natural breeze and imperial majesty as the sultans did when visiting the summer palace. On the European continent the perfect getaway from all the hustle and bustle of the city’s busiest tourist area is the world-class Istanbul Archaeological Museums, located right in the heart of Sultanahmet.

Istanbul Archaeological Museum

Osman Hamdi Bey was a man with a mission. On June 13, 1891, his vision became reality when the new purpose-built Istanbul Archaeological Museum opened. One hundred and twenty years later, June 13 is still celebrated as Museum Day in Turkey, and Osman Hamdi Bey’s name is still synonymous with Turkish museology and historical preservation.

In the late 19th century, the Ottoman government, frustrated with Western powers taking Anatolian artifacts out of the empire, established the Imperial Museum Collection. After this, treasures began to be sent to Istanbul from all the Ottoman provinces, but they mostly collected dust, being neither well-organized nor well-exhibited.

In 1881, Osman Hamdi Bey was appointed director of the museum. His appointment was, undoubtedly, the most significant occurrence in the history of Turkish museums. He was already a famous painter, archaeologist, and intellectual. (His most famous painting, “The Tortoise Tamer”, was bought in 2004 for $3.5 million, the largest sum ever paid for a Turkish work of art, and is on permanent display at the Pera Museum.) When he became director, there were only 650 pieces in the museum’s collection, which he quickly began restoring and cataloguing. One of his first acts after becoming director was to fight for an Antiquities Conservation Act that could legally combat the rampant smuggling of cultural treasures to western countries. This act was passed in 1883, and is one of the reasons that the Istanbul Archaeological Museum now has more than 1 million objects in its collection. (Osman Hamdi Bey’s fight to stop smuggling is so legendary that he even appears as a character in The Abyssinian Proofby Jenny White, a recent novel about a turn-of-the-century Istanbul detective tracking an antiquities smuggling ring.)

Osman Hamdi Bey also spent much time traveling around the Ottoman Empire collecting new artifacts. When he heard that a farmer in Sidon (in present-day Lebanon) had unearthed something interesting while ploughing his fields, he went there to conduct the excavations himself. What he found was an underground necropolis of Phrygian kings that included what is undeniably the most famous piece in the museum today: the Alexander Sarcophagus, named after its bas-relief carvings depicting the life and adventures of Alexander the Great and once thought to have been made for Alexander himself. Osman Hamdi Bey was so concerned with the safety of these antiquities while they were being transported to Istanbul that at one point he actually tied himself to the Alexander Sarcophagus as it was being winched aboard a cargo ship!

Upon safe arrival in Istanbul, the Sidon sarcophagi received so much attention and the Sultan was so impressed that he gave orders that a new building be built specifically as a museum to house these treasures. The building’s neoclassical design, by architect Alexander Vallaury, was inspired by the Alexander Sarcophagus and the Sarcophagus of the Weeping Women (also from Sidon), and construction was overseen by Osman Hamdi Bey himself.

Today the Istanbul Archaeological Museum is one of three buildings that make up the Istanbul Archaeological Museum complex, which is located in what was once an outer garden of Topkapi Palace, on the aptly named Osman Hamdi Bey Hill Road.

The beautiful Tiled Kiosk, which was home to the Archaeological Museum’s treasures before 1891, was built in 1472 by Sultan Mehmed. It is one of the oldest examples of Ottoman civil architecture. The Tiled Kiosk Museum has a collection of around 2,000 tiles and ceramics from the Seljuk and Ottoman eras (11th-20th century). While these objects may be less famous than those housed in the other two museums, the bright colours and beautiful ornamentation make this museum a work of art in itself and definitely worth a visit.

The Museum of the Ancient Orient houses a rich collection of artifacts from the earliest civilizations of Anatolia, Mesopotamia, Egypt, and the Middle East. All of the artifacts predate the 1st century AD. Some of the more famous pieces include the Kadesh Peace Treaty between Ramses II of Egypt and Hattusili III of the Hittite Empire from 1258 AD (one of three tablets that comprise the oldest known peace treaty in the world), the glazed tile images from the Ishtar Gate of Babylon, the obelisk of King Adad-nirari III of Assyria, and fragments of the 13th century sphinx from the Yarkapı Gate at Hattuşaş.

The Istanbul Archaeological Museum is, of course, the biggest and most famous of the three. Near the entrance is a statue of a lion. This is from the Mausoleum of Halicarnassus (one of the seven wonders of the ancient world) and the only piece that remains in Turkey, the rest having been smuggled out by foreign archaeologists. This solitary lion is a reminder of what might have been if not for Osman Hamdi Bey’s passion and perseverance.

The treasures inside the museum are myriad, and a full tour could take several hours. The Alexander Sarcophagus and the other treasures from Sidon should not be missed. Also highly recommended is the first-floor exhibit “Istanbul Through the Ages”, which won a Council of Europe Museum Award in 1993. This informative and well-presented exhibit is still being updated, as the constant construction in Istanbul unearths new treasures almost daily. The construction of a tunnel under the Marmara Sea from Yenikapı has yielded some spectacular maritime finds, which have been added to the display. But no matter which galleries you choose to visit, you will not be disappointed, as the entire building is filled with world-class exhibits.

If you find yourself becoming overwhelmed by the majesty and intensity of so many exquisite sights, then stop by the pleasant little museum café or wander through the courtyard and sit in the shade of an ancient column. Plan to take your time on your trip to the museum, and enjoy a day that you will never forget!

Cool Beylerbeyi

In 1865 Sultan Abdulaziz’s summer palace was completed and opened its doors and guest rooms to some of the most important and influential dignitaries of his time. Today the humble village of Beylerbeyi that surrounds the place by the same name is just as welcoming as it was during the time of the Sultan. Whether you prefer to wander around the palace gardens or the village square, Beylerbeyi will surprise you with its unassuming acceptance and simple charms.

Although Beylerbeyi is easily accessible by land, try to arrive by water as the Sultan’s guests did. The view of the palace from the water as you pass under the bridge is uniquely Istanbul, an alluring transposition of past and present. On the opposite side of the square is an elegant mosque, built in 1778 by Sultan Abdulhamid I in memory of his mother Rabia Sultan, which is also best seen from the water. The central square, adjoining the pier, plays host to most of modern Beylerbeyi’s guests. Like many other Bosphorus villages, Beylerbeyi has a collection of cafes and restaurants and shops selling jewelry and handicrafts mixed among the historic old wooden houses, but Beylerbeyi also has its own distinct character. This is perhaps typified by the two massive street hounds that have made the square their home for as long as anyone cares to remember. The size of small horses they plant themselves in the midst of the action, observing everyone but disturbing no one, rather like the local fishermen and waiters. Nothing happens in the village that goes unnoticed by this menagerie and everyone - rich, poor, local, foreign –is equally welcomed in the square.

Crowded on the weekends, it is quiet during the week when the main action surrounds the fishermen going about their business, laughing and shouting back and forth as they clean their catch and play keep away with the ever present cats.

After enjoying the square a visit to the palace is a must. Less elaborate than the other Bosphorus palaces, Beylerbeyi Palace is still very appealing, perhaps even more so for its uniqueness. The current palace was not the first to be built here. An earlier wooden palace, called the Yellow Palace, burnt down and the site was abandoned in 1851 until Sultan Abdulaziz chose to rebuild. Locals have a legend about how this location was originally chosen. When the Sultan decided to build his summer palace he was determined to have it in the coolest place on the Bosphorus so he devised a special system to locate the perfect spot. He had his servants hang sides of meat from trees at various spots all up and down the strait. Each day the servants were sent out to check on the state of the meat. In the end, the site where the meat took the longest to decay was ‘scientifically’ proven to be the coolest. Anyone who has visited Beylerbeyi in the heat of summer will have noticed that the constant breeze blowing in the square and along the water does indeed have a significant effect on the temperature.

The palace was designed in the French neo-Baroque style with a traditional Ottoman plan by the imperial architects Sarkis and Agop Balyan. It has a rectangular plan with six grand halls and 24 rooms on two floors, containing both a selamlik(official quarter) and haremlik(women’s quarter). Because it was a summer palace there is no heating system. The floors are covered with Egyptian reed mats and Hereke carpets. This provided insulation and protection against dampness. Running water was popular in Ottoman houses, both for the sound and the cooling effect, and Beylerbeyi Palace has a pool in one of its reception halls. Sumptuously decorated, like all Ottoman palaces, French Baccarat crystal chandeliers and oriental vases abound. But this palace also has some unique decorative touches. Sultan Abdulaziz loved ships and the sea. During his reign the Turkish navy rose to be second in the world in both strength and importance. Throughout the palace you will find a strong naval motif in the decorations and paintings.

One of the many royal guests who visited Sultan Abdulaziz at Beylerbeyi Palace was Empress Eugenie of France who received a rather legendary welcome. In 1869 when Empress Eugenie was travelling through Istanbul on her way to the opening of the Suez Canal she stayed in Beylerbeyi Palace. When the Empress dared to enter the palace on the arm of Sultan Abdulaziz the sultan’s mother slapped the Empress in the face for her boldness. But even that shocking welcome couldn’t take away from the beauty of the palace for Empress Eugenie. She so admired the design of the windows in her guest room that she had them copied for her bedroom in the Tuileries Palace in Paris.

Another notable ‘guest’ of the palace was Sultan Abdul Hamid II who lived in captive exile in Beylerbeyi from 1912 until his death in 1918. The Sultan was an accomplished woodworker and spent his last years in Beylerbeyi Palace studying and writing his memoirs as well as making new furniture for the palace, much of which is still on display.

The once luxurious palace gardens are still worth a visit. Once a 160,000 m2 forest including a hunting area, a zoo and a terraced garden with flora from all over the world, today only a small part remains and is open to the public. However, what is left is a little oasis of peace and quiet in the city with its own café. There are two oval pools, dozens of statues of animals and a wide variety of plants and flowers, including a small bamboo forest. There is also access to the waterfront through two large sea gates in the garden. Walk right out onto the marble pier and admire the tent-shaped pavilions while taking in the breathtaking view up and down the Bosphorus and enjoying the famous Beylerbeyi breeze.

Despite claims that the palace gets over a thousand visitors a day, Beylerbeyi doesn’t feel like an overcrowded or overpriced tourist trap. This village has not been changed to appeal to the masses with little snapshots of Turkey in suitably souvenir-sized packages. The person sitting next to you in the palace garden having a cup of coffee may just as likely live across the street as halfway around the world. There are no pretentions here. Beylerbeyi invites you to come as you are and, more than likely, you will want to come again.

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http://www.theguideistanbul.com/articles/istanbul101/history-culture/museum-break-cool-museums-to-beat-the-summer-heat-248.html http://www.theguideistanbul.com/articles/istanbul101/history-culture/museum-break-cool-museums-to-beat-the-summer-heat-248.html Tue, 09 Aug 2011 17:42:00 +0300
<![CDATA[Traditional Turkish Motifs]]>

In British author A.S. Byatt’s best-selling collection of fables, the title story, The Djinn in the Nightingale’s Eye, takes its inspiration from the Turkish glass known as çeşme bülbül, “nightingale’s eye”. Her storyteller’s erotic genie emerges from a bottle made with this mysterious swirling pattern of deep blue and white, a technique apparently learnt in Venice by a Turkish glassmaker who later returned to Istanbul to work. It’s hard to imagine a more perfect magic bottle in which to keep one’s personal genie. How the pattern acquired its name is a mystery, although there are accounts of nightingales (small brown birds of modest appearance, with unremarkable eyes) singing in the woods along the Bosphorus. There is also a Mount Bülbül and a place called Çeşme, both in Antalya.

Another sort of eye, the nazar boncuk, a glass amulet signifying a protective eye, is everywhere in Turkish designs. The protective eye is an ancient symbol in many cultures – the Near East was believed to have its own Eye Goddess – and Turkey’s blue eye beads are particularly striking.

Floral motifs are ubiquitous the world over, but Turkey’s floral motifs are especially distinctive. Driving into the city from Ataturk Airport, one is greeted by Istanbul’s municipal emblem, a graphic design of stylized mosques and minarets arranged to resemble a tulip. In the west, the flower is associated with Holland’s huge bulbous flower industry, although that industry and the ensuing Dutch tulip mania originally sprang from trade with the Ottoman Empire. Visitors to the Ottoman Empire wondered at the Turks’ love of flowers, especially “a type of lily” – i.e., the tulip. The classic Turkish tulip motif has elongated, slender petals. They dance over walls of Iznik tiles, undulate across silk textiles, gleam from the gilding on steel armour, and are depicted standing proudly erect on the lovely carpets from the Ladik region.

Along with the tulip, another well-known pattern is the cintamani, comprising three spots and wavy lines, which derives from leopard and tiger pelts. This motif travelled west with the Turks from Central Asia. Sometimes a single spot is incorporated into a pattern, sometimes a single wavy line, but all have the same origin.

Fritillary, carnation, rose, hyacinth, and narcissus flowers all appear in Turkish decorative art. The pomegranate is also very prevalent: an ancient, widespread symbol of the Middle East signifying fruitfulness. The cypress tree and pine cone are also motifs from antiquity, although the latter is sometimes misinterpreted as a pineapple. Cloud bands and lotuses came west along the Silk Road in the decorations on Chinese ceramics, as did the pattern known as the “golden horn”: fine blue and white spiralling stems with coils and tiny hook-like leaves. This pattern also often appears in manuscripts - as background to a magnificent tuğhra,for example - and in metalwork. Intriguingly, although the bunches of grapes depicted on Iznik dishes copy Chinese blue and white originals, grapes are native to Anatolia, and carved stones show that the Hittite storm god was clearly not averse to a glass of local Anatolian wine. The “tree of life” image is another ubiquitous symbol with origins in the earliest Near Eastern cultures.

Birds appear in embroideries, on tiles, and nearly everywhere else. Green parrots were imported from India on trade ships and kept as pets, as were peacocks, which were a favourite with the Byzantines. On your next visit to a crafts market, look out for little beadwork birds. Today, these are usually made by prisoners who use beads in the symbolic colours of their favourite football teams; the proceeds from their sale earn the prisoners cigarette money. They occasionally appear in the Spice Bazaar, next to strings of nazar boncuk, around the corner from the flower market.

From the moment a newcomer arrives in Turkey, the visitor is overwhelmed by the richness and distinctive individuality of Turkish decorative motifs. A skyline punctuated by slender minarets and sombre lead-roofed domes will suddenly gleam as a shaft of sunlight reflects off the gilt bronze crescent of an alem,the finial atop the dome. Emblems of the Turkish Republic, the star and crescent, grace its red flag. Everywhere the eye rests, it finds a rich array of patterns and designs.

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<![CDATA[Fal: Fortune-telling a la Turca]]>

How To Make Turkish Coffee:

• Fill the fincan (the delicate Turkish coffee cup) with water and pour it into the cezve (a bell-shaped copper pot)

• For each serving, add one teaspoon of coffee. Add sugar to taste: sade (plain), orta (medium), or şekerli (very sweet)

• Stir the coffee, sugar, and water thoroughly on low-heat

• Once the coffee starts frothing up, pour enough coffee in each cup to fill them halfway

• Put the cezve back on the heat, keep there for about a minute or until it froths up again, and then pour the remaining coffee in the cups

Synonymous with Turkish coffee around the world, Kurukahveci Mehmet Efendi has been selling the best Turkish coffee since 1871 with strong arabica flavor and a heavenly aroma.

Note: It’s customary to serve Turkish coffee with something sweet (preferably Turkish delight) and a glass of water.

Have you ever been confronted with a problem, challenge, or dilemma withwhich you could not cope? Most of us have, and in such circumstances, many of us will often turn to others for guidance or look for some short-cut to the answer. For those of us in Turkey, this is often where fortune telling comes in. In Turkey, as in many other countries in the world, fortune-telling has long been an important part of the social fabric. Since Ottoman times, and possibly even before then, Turks have yearned to know the unknown, to discover the mystery of the cosmic world, and learn what the future holds in advance, so that they could command their destiny or even change it, if necessary.

The fear of the future and the unknown and curiosity, which is the root of this fear, are inseparable parts of human nature. These feelings bring to the fore such questions as: Who am I and what will I become? Who will I marry? Will I have a child? Such major questions push people to look for answers, and in Turkey one of the most common ways that people try to find the answers is through fortune-telling—a method that gives hope and promises much for the future.

The practice of fortune-telling can be traced back to 4000 BC in Egypt, Babylon, and China in the form of palm readings and astrology. This should come as no surprise, given how curious human beings are by nature. Fortune tellers exist because people have an intrinsic need to know the unknown, solve the mysteries of the future, and bring an end to their troubles.

Fortune-telling has long played an important role in Turkish culture. Even after the conversion to Islam, which deems fortune telling sinful, Turks continued to practice and value fortune-telling. In fact, a müneccimbaşı (the head of fortune tellers) was kept in the Ottoman palaces to cater to the Sultans’ desires of knowing what the future holds.

With such a long history, fortune-telling comes in many forms and has developed considerably over the years. Today, the options range from water, tea, and coffee, to kurşun dökme (lead pouring), chamomile, and palm reading. The most traditional and widespread of these forms are kahve falı (the reading of fortune through the coffee cup) and kurşun dökme (the pouring of lead in water).

If Coffee Dregs Could Speak

Drinking Turkish coffee is an intrinsic and inseparable part of Turkish culture and, in many ways, it is like a ritual that goes hand in hand with heartfelt conversations with friends. Often, this sense of ritual makes kahve falı all the more enthralling. It’s not just “professional” fortune-tellers that practice kahve falı, and this method of fortune-telling is not always done with the serious intention of learning about thefuture. In fact, many women know how to read kahve falı and most certainly have had their fortune told in this way.

The root of this type of fortune-telling supposedly dates back to the Ottoman period when Arab nannies lived with wealthy Istanbul families, bringing the kahve falı with them, and it has changed very little from its original version. First, the coffee is drunk (with the dregs left in the cup). The fincan is then turned over on its plate and then swirled around three times while muttering “Neyse halim, çıksın falım” (May the fortune show what my circumstances hold.). Once the cup has cooled, it is turned over and the fortune is read based on the various shapes that the dregs have taken.

What does it mean?

The bottom of the cup tells of the past, the middle is about the present, the top is about the future.

Fish: A new love interest is on the way
Triangle: You will receive money
Circle: Your luck has turned and things will start going your way
A short, vertical line: You will go on a road trip
A beaming sun: Your biggest dreams will come true very soon
Eye: Someone is jealous of you
Bird: You will receive news from your lover
A tree: You will go on vacation
Keys: You will move to a new house

What about “a three-way”?

Although not a firm believer in fate or destiny, I’ve always been fascinated with fortune-telling and its various forms. As a teenager, I would let gypsy women in Bebek read my palm, although I never took this very seriously. Over time, my interest in fortune-telling grew, and I was no longer satisfied with hearing happily-ever-after stories from women looking to earn a quick buck. When it comes to love, people say that you’ll find it not when you’re searching for it, but when you least expect it. I tend to think that the same goes for fortune tellers.

One day, a friend recommended a fortune teller who combines the forces of coffee, water, and tarot to predict the future. While I imagined the fortune teller working in an eccentrically-decorated apartment on the outskirts of the city, I instead found myself in a centrally-located café called Şuşu in Etiler. Pushing my skepticism aside, I tried to keep an open mind, and soon found myself both impressed and more than a bit spooked by how much this stranger seemed to know about me.

She first asked me what my sign is, and wrote my name and my mother’s name on a piece of paper that she put in a silver bowl filled with water. She said a short prayer over the bowl, then started speaking to me while holding my hand, as if my skin was transferring my history to her. While looking at the silver bowl, my coffee cup, and a set of tarot cards, she began talking about my past, present, and future using the combined forces of these three objects. While I will not get into the details of all the things she predicted about my future, I will say that many things she said about my past were eerily accurate, to the point that I found the experience somewhat unnerving.

Kill two birds with one stone

Many people believe that the evil eye can cast a spell on the object of its gaze: a much-loved vase can break unexpectedly or a beloved piece of jewelry can get lost. When such things happen, Turks believe that the source of these misfortunes is nazar—something that occurs when the evil eye is on someone. It is believed that when nazar is upon you, your health and possessions are in danger. In order to free oneself from nazar and rid oneself of the effects of it, people use a method called kurşun dökme.

The procedure goes like this: the kurşuncu (the person taking the nazar off you) heats up the kurşun (lead) over the stove. She then sits you down, covers you up with a blanket, and pours the kurşun in a bowl of water, causing the water to splatter and the kurşun to take various shapes and forms.

Although I had been very curious about kurşun dökme for quite some time, I had my first personal experience just recently. I had expected the kurşuncu to be an old, traditional, and conservative lady, probably because all my prior knowledge was based on Turkish films. Yet, I found the real experience to be far from how it’s represented in the movies.

The kurşuncu (a young and warm lady that I found through word of mouth) didn’t speak of nazar or the evil eye. Instead, to my great surprise, she spoke of chakras and energies. She explained that we all carry bad energies and the sources of such energies could be other people (people with evil eyes) or ourselves. She reassured me that the kurşun dökme takes the bad energies out of the body while also balancing the chakras.

The pouring of the lead in the pot is repeated several times to take the bad energy out of each major chakra and the future is predicted based on the form and shape that the lead takes. Ridding oneself of bad energies and getting a glimpse of the future in one sitting... can it get better than that?

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http://www.theguideistanbul.com/articles/istanbul101/history-culture/fal-fortune-telling-a-la-turca-185.html http://www.theguideistanbul.com/articles/istanbul101/history-culture/fal-fortune-telling-a-la-turca-185.html Wed, 08 Jun 2011 21:00:00 +0300
<![CDATA[Topkapı Sarayı: From Palace to Museum]]>

One of the world’s most fabulous palaces is undoubtedly the Topkapı Sarayı, the residential and administrative headquarters of the Ottoman Empire for four centuries. The palace, actually a small city covering an area of 499,000 square meters (about 173 acres), is organized around for consecutive courtyards, each serving a specific function and each comprising a conglomerate of gardens and pavilions, arcades and suites. The complex, situated in Sarayburnu (Seraglio Point) the most strategic and aesthetically pleasing hill of Istanbul, overlooks the Golden Horn, the Bosphorus and the Marmara Sea. It once had a staff of 20,000, including 5,000 permanent residents. Here the sultan and the Divan-i Hümayun (Imperial Council) discussed the administrative, judicial, social and cultural affairs of the state. The imperial edicts issued by the sultan were carried to the far corners of the empire, which at its height extended from the Caspian Sea to the heart of Europe and incorporated the entire Western Asia and much of Northern Africa.

Mehmed II, the conqueror of Istanbul, began work on the Topkapı Palace shortly after the conquest of the city in 1453. His first palace, the Eski Saray (Old Palace), was situated on the site later occupied by the Süleymaniye Mosque and the University of Istanbul. Mehmed II desired a larger and more efficient structure designed solely for administrative activities – a new palace that reflected the glory and power of the empire and commemorated the Ottoman conquest of Istanbul. The location selected for this new palace was the ancient acropolis an area also favored by the city’s Byzantine rulers.

The sultan himself supervised the design of the Topkapı Palace; actual construction occurred between 1459 and 1465. Yeni Saray (New Palace), as it was then called, was a massive fortress; a wall 1.400 meters long and interspersed with towers enclosed almost the entire Sarayburnu. One of the gates on the waterfront, the Topkapı (Cannon Gate), eventually gave its name to the entire complex.

Throughout its history, a number of units, pavilions and gardens were repaired, reconstructed and added to the complex. Consequently, the Topkapı Palace stands not only as a monumental city-palace, but also as the most remarkable collection of Ottoman residential architecture.

Mehmed II’s original plan included the first three courtyards; the Harem was added in the 16th and the fourth courtyard in the 17th century. Devastating fires, especially those of 1574, 1665 and 1865, destroyed many of the original buildings. The palace once extended to the water’s edge and was surrounded by gardens. The Gülhane Park now occupies a portion of this area.

The plan of the Topkapı Palace clearly reflects the structure of Mehmed II’s empire. The first courtyard functioned basically as the service area and contained support facilities; it was open to the public and included the outer treasury and arsenal with offices, storage rooms and dormitories for those serving the Birun (Outer Palace), but not residing in the palace proper.

The fortified Bab-ı Hümayun (Imperial Gate) provides access to the first courtyard. The gate’s second story was later demolished. An inscription over the portal states that it was built in 1478. Only two of the original buildings in the first courtyard survive: the Çinili Köşk (Tiled Pavilion), built in 1472 and restored in the late 16th century: and the Alay Köşkü (Procession Pavilion), completely refurbished in the 19th century.

The palace proper begins with the second courtyard, entered through the Bab üs-Selam (Gate of Salutations), also called the Orta Kapı (Middle Gate). Open only to those who had official business in the palace, it contained offices and facilities for the Birun, including the Divan-i Hümayun. Everyone, except the sultan had to dismount at the entrance and proceeded on foot.

The enormous kitchens to the right of the second courtyard consist of ten large chambers with domical chimneys, each serving different residents of the palace, such as the sultan, queen mothers, Harem personnel and ministers of the Divan-ı Hümayun. The famous architect Sinan designed these kitchens after the 1574 fire. The second courtyard also included mosques, storage rooms, and dormitories for the cooks and offices for the staff.

The chamber with eight domes on the far left of the courtyard housed the Hazine (Inner Treasury) of the Ottoman dynasty. Next to it stands a three-domed pavilion built by Süleyman the Magnificent in the middle of the 16th century. The first domed chamber, the Kubbealtı (literally "under the dome"), was the seat of the Divan-i Hümayun. Here thirteen members of the Imperial Council, presided by the sadrazam (grand vizer), met four times a week to discuss state affairs. The sultan, who was the head of the council, rarely sat in on the meetings. He would, however, observe the sessions from a room in the square tower above the Kubbealtı. This room was hidden from the council by a screened window so the ministers never knew when the sultan was listening to their discussions. The secretaries of the council who recorded the proceedings of the meetings used the second domed chamber. The third chamber was assigned to the sadrazam. Under the tower of the Kubbealtı is one of the entrances to the Harem, called the Araba Kapısı (Carriage Door). The area on the far left was reserved for the Has Ahır (Imperial Stables), the Raht Hazinesi (Harness Treasury), and chambers for the Imrahor (Master of the Stables) and offices for the other court attendants.

Records indicate on a normal day 5,000 imperial guards and janissaries filled the courtyard. During religious holidays and when foreign ambassadors presented their credentials to the sultan, this figure doubled. And yet there was absolute silence in the courtyard with thousands of people quietly going about their business and observing imperial protocol.

At the end of the second courtyard is an impressive gate, the Bab üs-Saadet (Gate of Felicity), also called the Ak Ağalar Kapısı (Gate of the White Eunuchs). The sultan sat in front of this gate during accession ceremonies and religious holidays, receiving the foremostmembers of the state. The Bab üs-Saadet leads into the third courtyard, the inner palace reserved for the Enderun (Palace School), which trained civil service personnel under the supervision of the Ak Ağas (White Eunuchs).

Upon entering the third courtyard, one first encounters the Arz Odası (Throne Room) where the sultan received foreign ambassadors and the sadrazam reported to him the activities of the Imperial Council. This building, dating from the reign of Mehmed II, was restored in the 19th century. The Library of Ahmed III erected in 1719 stands behind the Arz Odası. It replaced the pool which originally stood in the center of the courtyard.

The chambers on the right included the Enderun classrooms and dormitories together with the Pavilion of Mehmed II, popularly called the Hazine (Imperial Treasury). Other buildings of the courtyard served various functions of the Palace School and contained residential units for the White Eunuchs. The Hırka-i Saadet (Pavilion of the Holy Mantle), one of the most important structures, occupies the far left of the courtyard. It contained holy artifacts brought from Egypt by Selim I in 1517 and housed the mantle, standard and bow of the Prophet Muhammed as well as the swords of the four orthodox caliphs. The Ağalar Camii (Mosque of the Ağas) and the second entrance to the Harem, the Kuşhane Kapısı (Birdcage Door), stand to the left of the pavilion.

The fourth courtyard of the palace does not have a formal entrance; it was designed as a garden built on several levels and comprises a number of pavilions, terraces and pools. It can be entered from the veranda behind the Hırka-i Saadet as well as through passages between the buildings. On the left, facing a pool, is the famous Revan Köşkü, built in 1636 by Murad IV to commemorate the conquest of Revan (Erivan) in the Caucasus. Beyond the pool a marble terrace overlooks the Golden Horn. This terrace is flanked by the Sünnet Odası (Circumcision Room) built in 1641 and the Bağdad Köşkü erected in 1639 by Murad IV after the conquest of Baghdad. In the center of the terrace the Iftariye, a baldachin with a golden dome, dates from the middle of the 17th century.

Below this terrace, tulip gardens surround an 18th century pavilion built during the reign of Ahmed III, popularly called the Sofa Köşkü. At the edge of the complex, the Mecidiye Köşkü, built by Abdülmecid in the 1840s, is the last addition to the palace.

The celebrated Harem occupies the gigantic area on the far left of the second and third courtyard. It contains over three hundred units comprised of apartments, libraries, dining rooms, reception halls, dormitories, classrooms, baths, infirmaries, and laundries. These units are separated by courtyards, gardens and pools. The Harem, which literally means a private or sacred place, was guarded by the Kara Ağas (Black Eunuchs). It served as the residence of the sultan and his family and as the location where the princes received their early education.

The Harem, constructed on several levels, was not a part of the original palace but was added in the second half of the 16th century. During the reign of Mehmed II and his immediate followers, the Eski Saray remained in use for private and domestic affairs. The first Ottoman sultan to move his family into the Topkapı Palace was Süleyman the Magnificent and after the middle of the 16th century, it became customary for the wives and children of the sultans to reside there.

The Ottoman sultans were avid collectors and enthusiastic patrons of the arts. Their collections, which included Asian and European objects in addition to Ottoman works, were carefully registered and kept in the palace. Thus, the Topkapı Palace contains a wealth of manuscripts, arms and armor, kaftans and embroideries, glass and porcelain, and the entire contents of the fabulous treasury filled with objects fashioned in gold and other precious materials.

It was on the founder of the Turkish Republic’s Mustafa Kemal Atatürk’s instructions that the Topkapı Palace and its magnificent collections were opened to the public. On April 3, 1924, a few months after the proclamation of the Republic, the palace became a museum. Atatürk is known to have twice visited the Museum. In 1927, he inspected the Hırka-i Saadet collection and looked at the Prophet’s mantle and standard. The following year he toured the buildings in the Sultan Ahmed Square before visiting the Mecidiye Köşkü. At this time, numerous objects had arrived from other imperial palaces and awaited cataloguing. The portraits of the sultans, collected by Abdülhamid in the Yıldız Palace, had just been deposited in one of the suites of the Mecidiye Köşkü. Atatürk asked to see these paintings, spent some time studying them, and requested that they be put on display.

The immense task of sorting, classifying and restoring tens of thousands of items took years. Sections of the palace opened as soon as the cataloguing of a group of objects was completed and exhibition galleries were ready. The Çinili Köşk now housing Turkish ceramics and tiles, opened in 1953, on the 500th anniversary of the conquest of Istanbul; the Library of Ahmed II and portions of the Harem were ready in 1971; and the restorations of the Arz Odası were completed in 1972.

A number of other units were later renovated and opened to the public, including the Kubbealtı and Has Ahır. Today, the visitor can pass through the Bab üs-Selam and see temporary exhibitions in the chambers adjacent to the gate. The Imperial Kitchens house the world-renowned Chinese porcelain collection, which numbers over 10,000 items, spanning from the Yüan to the Ching periods; Japanese and European ceramics are also on display in this section. At the end of the kitchens is the Istanbul glass and porcelain collection dating from the 19th and 20th centuries.

The wealth of Ottoman arms and armor, supplemented by weapons of other Islamic dynasties, is on view in the former Hazine. The Kubbealtı remains as it was in the 16th century with its austere and majestic architectural decoration.

Beyond the Bab üs-Saadet one can visit the Arz Odası and the Library of Ahmed III. The pavilions along the courtyard display the kaftans of the sultans, embroideries and the almost legendary objects from the Hazine.

One of the former dormitories of the Enderun contain illustrated manuscripts and portraits of the sultans while another houses Korans and samples of illumination and exquisite calligraphy. The Ağalar Camii has been converted into a modern library, bringing together various imperial collections with hundreds of Turkish, Persian and Arabic manuscripts as well as a selection of texts written in Greek, Armenian and Slavonic, illustrated with close to 14,000 paintings. The most impressive manscripts are illustrated histories of the sultans produced during their lifetime. They contain detailed representations of the Topkapı Palace and portray specific personages, enabling us to recreate the history of the Ottoman Empire and the spectacular city-palace of the sultans. The fourth courtyard with its terraces, gardens, pools and pavilions has been renovated and appears as it did in the 17th and 18th centuries. The Mecidiye Köşkü is now a restaurant with a magnificent view of the Golden Horn, the Bosphorus and the Marmara Sea.

The Topkapı Palace, the first public museum of the Republic, is a living collection of centuries of Ottoman domestic architecture and artisticproduction and the most vivid testament of Atatürk’s interest in the preservation of the Turkish cultural heritage.

Originally Published in The Guide Istanbul September/October 2002

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<![CDATA[The Evil Eye]]>

The belief in the powers of the "nazar boncuk" or "evil eye bead" is found throughout the Mediterranean and Aegean, spreading from Turkey as Far East as the Turkic Republics. No one really knows how, but the cult of the blue beads spread even to Britain—to Ireland to be precise. Irish farmers are known to hang a blue ball or "Droch-shuil" above their barn doors to protect their animals from the envious glances of their neighbors. The Turkish "nazar boncuk" is known by many names around the world: the Romans called it the "Malus", the Greeks "Baskania", the Italians "Mallochio", the Spanish "Mal Ojo" and it is "Ayin Hara" in Hebrew. In fact, it can be found as far away as Mexico, where it is called the "Ojo de Vanado".

The Turkish word "nazar" actually derives from the Arabic for "eye" or "look". That seems innocuous enough, but this kind of "eye" or "look" is rather dangerous. Millions of people around the world believe that the "evil eye" can cast a kind of spell on the object of its gaze: a healthy person can fall ill or a much-admired crystal vase can fall and break into a thousand pieces or your brand new car break down at the first red light. Well, in that case, you would only have yourself to blame—if you had hung a "mavi boncuk" (blue bead) from your exhaust pipe or rear view mirror, this would never have happened! No one knows if such talismans really work, or how they work if they do. But people continue to believe. Scientists are fascinated by the psychological power of the "nazar boncuk" and it has recently become a popular field of research.

But where and how are these mighty blue beads produced? Bear in mind that the premise for the belief is that evil intentions are somehow conveyed by the eyes. In that case, it seems only natural to believe that such looks can be repelled by the gaze of another eye. This "other eye" is the "nazar boncuk", often wrongly known in English as an "evil eye" since it is actually a "benevolent eye" warding off evil.

In the past, these talismans were originally made of clay globes painted with natural dyes. Later, they were made from ceramic. The production of glass "nazar boncuks" spread from Mesopotamia to Syria, before crossing the border into Anatolia. The first Anatolian glass "nazar boncuks" were made around the cities of Bodrum and Izmir in the Mediterranean and Aegean respectively. Sadly, interest in the art has waned and cheaper materials, like plastic, are usually used instead of glass. Today, only a few workshops in the village of Cumaovası, Görece near Izmir and a few in Bodrum still function in the traditional way.

These workshops fire the glass beads and in very primitive surroundings in underground kilns made of bricks and mud. The glassmakers remove the melted glass from the oven using an iron rod and then shape it on an anvil using other tools. Then, drops of molten glass in other colors (white and black over the blue) are placed on top of the main piece and stuck onto it. The whole piece is then rolled and then pressed flat with an iron. Finally, it is placed in a section of the kiln and allowed to cool.

Perhaps it is this very process that gives these glass talismans their powers: the incredible heat that melts the glass and the tremendous effort that goes into shaping them. Or perhaps it lies deeper, in the mysteries of nature that mankind is still unable to solve after thousands of years.

Compiled from The Guide Istanbul May/June 2002

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http://www.theguideistanbul.com/articles/istanbul101/history-culture/the-evil-eye-111.html http://www.theguideistanbul.com/articles/istanbul101/history-culture/the-evil-eye-111.html Sun, 27 Mar 2011 16:25:00 +0200
<![CDATA[NARGILE… A different kind of "smoke"]]> Nargile, the eastern waterpipe, is as popular as ever and an evocative reminder of the smoky past of Istanbul. Nargile, also known by the terms "hookah", “shisha” or "hubblybubbly", originated a few centuries ago in India. At that time, it was made from a coconut shell and as the Nargile traveled through Central Asia to Iran, it evolved into its present form, with the shape of a bottle.

Contrary to popular opinion (and the spaced-out, nargile-smoking caterpillar in Alice in Wonderland), hashish is not an approved substance to be smoked anywhere and is illegal in Turkey. Tobacco is the product of choice for smoking with a nargile. A dark tobacco is imported from Iran and this is the best quality tobacco available. For younger smokers, the preferred varieties of tobacco are made from apple, mint, melon or coconut. Some enhanced flavor can be added to the nargile smoke itself, by the addition of rose oil or pomegranate juice to the water.

There are strict rules of etiquette surrounding the smoking of a nargile. For example, you are never supposed to debase the high art of nargile smoking by lighting a cigarette from the coals. Also, you should never rest the nargile on a high place. In fact, it should always be placed on the floor. Finally, you should never pass the ağızlık directly to another person. The correct procedure is to put it down after use, and then the other person will pick it up himself, when he is ready.

Although nargile usage has declined with the advent of the more portable cigarette, it hasn’t lost its popularity as people seek the sedentary silence it allows. Cigarettes are for people on the go and nargiles are for those who want to get away from it all. Nargile cafés are places to talk and sip coffee or tea quietly, between puffs. The fact that the smoking process can last an hour or two means that it is very conducive to philosophical discussion. The most authentic and popular nargile café is Çorlulu Ali Paşa Medresesi, located near the Covered Bazaar. Another is Pierre Loti Café, which has a fantastic view of the Golden Horn. You can also find nargile cafés in the Sultanahmet area, Beyoğlu and dotted around the city. Most establishments ostensibly obey the smoking ban and have their nargiles positioned outside during the day, but as with many cafes and bars after hours, the smoking creeps inside like a sneaky, secret vice.

Note: It is important to be aware that some medical specialists have stated that water pipe smoking can lead to tuberculosis, bronchitis, emphysema, heart disease and the transmission of viruses that can be transferred from previous users.

This article was published in The Guide Istanbul July/Aug 2001

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<![CDATA[The Hamam: Where Cleanliness and Godliness Combine]]> Long before the Turkish tribes swept into Anatolia, they had established healthy bathing traditions. Upon their arrival in Asia Minor, they confronted another squeaky-clean civilization: the Byzantines who took their spas seriously and had Roman-style baths throughout their empire. The structure of the Byzantine bathhouse merged with Turkish bathing rituals and the Muslim observance of cleanliness, and voilà: the hamam was born. Over time, the hamam was no longer just a place of ablution; it had become an intrinsic part of Ottoman life.

At a time when most homes did not have running water, the public baths were a watering hole for all strata of society. Every neighborhood had at least one bath. At their peak, there must have been hundreds of hamams in Istanbul. Young and old, rich and poor, male and female, all congregated under the domed roofs of the hamam. Contrary to Western exotic-erotic fantasies, hamams were always segregated—there were either separate bathing areas or a single space would have different schedules for the two sexes. Legend has it that anyone found in the wrong section of the hamam would be sentenced to death!

The elaborate bathing process could take hours, so they provided the ideal atmosphere for socializing and gossiping. Men would gather and talk about business, politics, and court life. Women would travel en masse to the hamam, accompanied by servants who carried dishes of food that would be eaten while bathing. Songs would be sung and music would be played. It was also a place where young women learned how to care for their hair and bodies and how to apply make-up. For women, a trip to the bathhouse provided a rare opportunity to engage in social activity outside the home. It is said that it was grounds for divorce if a man forbade his wife to go to the hamam.

There are many fascinating social traditions connected to the hamam. Mothers would look for prospective brides for their sons there. Once a bride had been chosen, a gelin hamamı or bride’s bath would be held; the hamam would be hired and closed to the public. The groom’s family would present the bride-to-be with a special costume to wear to and from the hamam as well as an ornate robe for her to wear in the hamam. A procession would enter the hamam led by the bride and a woman beating a tambourine. Songs would be sung by candlelight. Single girls would toss coins into the waters and wish for a happy marriage. Today, Turkish celebrities have brought this custom back into fashion and foreign brides-to-be have also adopted the tradition as part of their henna weekends. Today, at bride’s baths food is served, the bridal party’s palms are dyed with henna, traditional fasıl music is played, and there is much singing and dancing.

Yet another trip to the hamam was customary on the fortieth day after the birth of a child. (New mothers were traditionally kept at home for forty days after giving birth.) Circumcision parties were also held at a hamam. Indeed, almost any important event in someone’s life was celebrated by a trip to the hamam, from receiving a promotion to going to the army. At the final stage of the life cycle, mourners would also mark the death of a loved one at the hamam.

The hamam lost its significance as the majority of people began to have bathrooms with hot and cold running water in their homes. The majority of hamams in Istanbul disappeared in the 50s and 60s. Today, only a few dozen hamams remain, including a few ‘tourist’ bathhouses and a number of more humble neighborhood ones.

Exerpt from “Where Cleanliness and Godliness Combine: The Hamam” published in The Guide Istanbul July/August 2009

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http://www.theguideistanbul.com/articles/istanbul101/history-culture/the-hamam-where-cleanliness-and-godliness-combine-85.html http://www.theguideistanbul.com/articles/istanbul101/history-culture/the-hamam-where-cleanliness-and-godliness-combine-85.html Tue, 15 Mar 2011 22:37:00 +0200
<![CDATA[The Republic and ATATÜRK]]> A visitor who comes for the first time in Turkey is probably surprised by the innumerable portraits and busts of Kemal Atatürk that are seen in every corner of the country and the veneration in which he is held more than half a century after his death. Many countries have of course their own heroes, but perhaps none who is recognized not only as a great military com-mander and an out-standing statesman, but also as a man who almost single-handedly carried out a far reaching political, social and cultural revolution.

Atatürk was born in 1881 in Salonica which then was one of the great cosmopolitan cities of the Ottoman Empire. This empire, with Istanbul as its capital had reached its apogee in the 16th century. It was a theocratic, monarchical and in a sense a feudal state whose grandeur started thereafter to decline as its borders gradually receded. Nevertheless, at the time that Atatürk was born it still encompassed the greatest part of the Balkans and practically the whole Middle East. Its population included, besides Turks, Arabs, Greeks, Serbs, Bulgarians, Armenians and Jews. But as a young officer, Atatürk had to witness the defeat in the Balkan wars in 1912-13 which resulted in the loss of most of the European territories of the Empire including his hometown. Close to a million Turks fleeing persecution had to abandon their homes and take refuge in territories still held by the Empire.

Already in his student years Atatürk started to develop his political ideas. He had learned French and was reading avidly the works of Rousseau and Voltaire as well as the translations of the works of English political thinkers. He realized very early that unless it could accomplish a profound transformation, his country had no chance to integrate itself into modern civilization. For him, modern civilization meant the West with its industrial technology, commercial reach, cultural radiance and secular systems of government.

The First World War dealt the final blow to the Ottoman Empire. Atatürk distinguished himself as a commanding general officer in the Dardanelles and the Middle East, but in the end Turkey was defeated, together with her allies, Germany, Austria and Bulgaria. As he was compelled to sign a humiliating treaty, Greece landed its forces in Izmir with the aim of annexing Western Anatolia. The Sultanate in Istanbul, under the control of occupying powers, had become impotent. It is under these circumstances that Atatürk took the lead in Anatolia in organizing a new political movement and a national army with the aim of recuperating the territories where the majority of the population was overwhelmingly Turkish. Combining military operations with skillful diplomacy he achieved his goal. A new Turkey was to emerge with the Treaty signed in Lausanne, Switzerland in 1923.

As the peace negotiations in Lausanne were proceeding, the new Parliament in Ankara decided to abolish the Sultanate. This was the prelude to the proclamation of the Republic later in 1923. But in abolishing the Sultanate it was decided to maintain in Istanbul the Caliphate, the ultimate religious authority of the Islamic world, which the Ottoman dynasty had been representing since the 16th century following the conquest of Egypt. It would not take long, however, before Atatürk decided to abolish the Caliphate as well. His model for Turkey was that of a secular state, a state where religion did not have any political power or influence. Looking at what is happening in the world today, the exploitation of religion to ferment hatred and violence, this vision of Atatürk is fully vindicated.

Atatürk was elected the first President of the Republic of Turkey. He made Ankara the capital of the new Republic. He became the driving force of several social, educational and cultural reforms. He pursued a foreign policy of reconciliation and friendship with neighbors and endeavored to preserve peace as the clouds of war were gathering in Europe and in the Mediterranean in the late 1930s. He never wavered from his aim of anchoring Turkey firmly to the West and prepared the institutional infrastructure which enabled Turkey later to move towards a multi-party parliamentary democracy. He restored the pride, dignity and self-confidence of the Turkish people. Emancipation and empowerment of women was one of his most important achievements.

Atatürk died on November 10, 1938, but continues to remain a source of inspiration for the people. His legacy is still valid because he was a man of principle, but not a dogmatic one. Rationalism and pragmatism always prevailed in him and are encapsulated in what he said shortly before his death: "I am leaving no sermon, no dogma, nor am I leaving as my legacy any commandment that is frozen in time or cast in stone".

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http://www.theguideistanbul.com/articles/istanbul101/history-culture/the-republic-and-ataturk-56.html http://www.theguideistanbul.com/articles/istanbul101/history-culture/the-republic-and-ataturk-56.html Thu, 24 Feb 2011 01:06:00 +0200