Leaving Ourselves Behind

We ended our stay in Istanbul with the crowds celebrating Republic Day; the 101st annual commemoration of the formation of the Republic of Türkiye on October 29, 1923. Mustafa Ataturk became the freshly-minted country’s first president, ending the long rule of the Ottoman Empire.

Republic Day is a big deal – two days filed with speeches, ceremonies, parades, fireworks and this: at least a half hour of fighter jets flying overhead at ear-piercing volume.

Our tender Canadian peacekeeper sensibilities were a bit jangled by the military display, the acreage of shiny Mercedes government sedans at Taksim Square and the jingoistic messages being broadcast from loudspeakers.

We’ve had hints of how Türkiye operates differently from Canada; it does not feel oppressive to tourists by any means, but there are reminders that absolute freedom does not exist here as we know it. Our internet access is somewhat curtailed, and from time to time, my Facebook access has disappeared.

We came upon this memorial in a small park:

This young man was a 19-year-old university student who was murdered by police and opposing groups at a protest on May 28,2013. An earlier sit-in to protest an urban development scheme for Gezi Park had turned violent after police swept in to break it up. As a result over three and a half million people took to the streets all over the country. It was about so much more – police brutality, freedom of the press, freedom of assembly – a long list of grievances that boiled over. During these protests, 22 people were killed (including Ali Ismail Korkmaz) and over 8,000 people were injured.

If this is not a potent reminder of how important our elections are in North America and how we can’t take our democracies for granted, I don’t know what is.

In the middle of all the celebrations, we walked up a street to see this unusual sight. This raised so many questions for me. If I owned a Ferrari (roughly worth $500,000), would I park it on a sidewalk in Istanbul? Would I even attempt to drive it in Istanbul, counting on the hundreds of motorcyclists whizzing by not to scrape the immaculate finish of my car?

The imponderables don’t end there. If you were a 12-year-old boy hanging out with your buddies, would you hurl yourself down a steep set of stairs on your bicycle?

Since we’re talking about men and boys, no surprise that Türkiye is a man’s world. Men gather in groups at all hours of the day to drink tea, smoke and talk endlessly. Women do as well, but it is far more common to see groups of men in cafes and on sidewalks.

We’ve been prowling about the city, discovering interesting neighbourhoods. Istiklal Street is a long pedestrian-only shopping street, with many major North American brands, as well as a plethora of Turkish shops. The photogenic old trolley that adorns many a fridge magnet is a big draw here. We did not make it on, unfortunately – it runs just once a half hour and our timing was always off.

This stunning shop is one of the world’s oldest 100 companies – founded in 1777, it has been turning out handmade confectionary ever since.

From the sublime to the humble. Kumpir is a favourite Turkish street food – a baked potato topped with everything from sour cream to cheese to pickles to coleslaw to olives – the list is endless. We were drawn by the immaculate display and the mashed potato art, but never did make it back to sample.

The simit was Stephen’s go-to snack. It gives any North American bagel a run for its money, but we mainly ate them unadorned, fresh and warm out of a brown paper bag.

You will never find pomegranates like this in North America – they are the mainstay of juices and smoothies everywhere.

The neighbourhood of Cihangir is a fascinating mix of affluent homes, endless vintage and antique stores, cafe hangouts and street art. Here are some of our finds.

Restored architecture.

Original Ottoman home.

Cafe culture.

Traditional old tea houses.

And, as always, the curiosities.
This corner had a collection of plants, knick-knacks, a few pieces of clothing, and a bulletin board with messages. No-one there, no place to sit, so it’s not a hang-out. An art installation, perhaps?

And this grotesquerie. I’m curious about the state of mind of this curator. Have these soiled and sinister toys been banished from children’s bedrooms? No remaining vestige of cuddly comfort, could these terrifying creatures reach out and grab an unsuspecting passerby?

Another curiosity, albeit less threatening, is the number of brides and grooms we have seen photographed on the streets. We figure they are in fact photo shoots, not actual weddings, as we’ve seen at least four or five since we’ve been in Istanbul.

We saw a great deal of Istanbul, but of course missed much more than we visited. Among our notable miss was the world-famous Hagia Sophia. It was built in 537 AD as a Christian church, it became a mosque, then a museum and as of 2020, reverted back to a mosque again. A long story, but this move was greeted with much controversy. Until very recently, entry was free (as is the case for all mosques in Türkiye), but due in part to the massive numbers of tourists, an entry fee of $40 per person was installed and admission limited to the upper gallery.

This did not seem to have any chilling effect on tourists, as on average, there is an hour to an hour and a half wait to visit. We never did visit the Hagia Sophia, in part because of our aversion to long lineups, but also because a part of the mosque is no longer accessible. Hopefully we won’t regret our decision, but we were becoming quite “touristed-out.”

And that brings us to the next stage of our lives – trying to find a better balance. We have been travelling six to seven months of the year for more than eight years and it has been hugely enjoyable and rewarding.

Five years ago, we bought our little condo in Nanaimo to have a place to land and that worked out well for us as we continued to travel. But here’s the thing: life changes. We have children and grandchildren and extended family who are very dear to our hearts; ditto for our friends who we love but don’t see enough. We’ve become visitors.

Our lifestyle means we can’t grow tomatoes, volunteer, develop a hobby, take a course, or have semblance of “ordinary life.”

We’re now in the process of trying to realign our lives. We’re looking for a small house so we can have a garden, hang clothes on a clothesline and be a part of our family and friends’ lives again.

We still want to travel, but just not as much – a couple of trips a year, five or six weeks at a time.

It might be a year before I blog again, but we’ll be back on these pages again. In the meantime, we’ll see many of you in person more than we did before.

Thank you from the bottom of my heart for being such good friends and for following our adventures. It means more than you can know to hear from you. More to come.