Turkey

"No matter how rich and prosperous, a nation without independence, cannot be subject to any behaviour before the humanity, at a higher level than serving."
- Mustafa Kemal Atatürk

This past August, I was in Turkey, and I'm long overdue for a report on what went on and my thoughts on the whole shindig. It was an exciting and revelatory experience for me in many ways. Incidentally, sorry for this taking so long-pure laziness has made it so long overdue, the original writing date was last September. Sigh.

I was in Istanbul for the European Universities Debating Championship (EUDC) 2007 (Aug 5-11), hosted by Koç University. But since I'd never been to Turkey, and had heard nothing but positive comments about it, I extended my trip by about a week before and after, to allow for some travel. I was there from July 31-Aug 17.

I arrived in Istanbul with Dan and Hannah; we met Shannon at the airport, and Julia joined us a half-hour later, also at the airport. We cabbed it into our hostel in Sultanahmet, the most tourist-heavy section of Istanbul, and also the section with some of the most beautiful sites-The Blue Mosque, Hagia Sophia and Grand Bazaar, to name but a few.

We spent the first day hitting the major tourist attractions, i.e. those noted above. I cannot emphasise enough how stunningly gorgeous the Blue Mosque (pictured below at night, from the rooftop bar in our youth hostel) and Hagia Sophia are. The Blue Mosque, especially, revels in its intricacy and beauty. I've long been a fan of the ornate, ancient cathedrals of Europe, and I am no hard-pressed to decide between the two genres of religious buildings. In either case, the tapestries, decorations, altars and mosaics and phenomenal. The Hagia Sophia has a slightly more austere look, possibly due to its age, possibly due to its conversion into a mosque from its original design as a cathedral, followed by its conversion into a museum. However, the dones and courtyards, and the expansive inner atrium all speak to a devotion to the almighty that I find equally understandable and inconceivable.


The Grand Bazaar, on the other hand, impressed me less. Though it certainly bore the thriving, vibrant air of bargaining and hustling I'd been lead to expect, I was disappointed at the repetitiveness and cheapness of the merchandise. This clearly is not where Turks come to shop, but rather where they relieve clueless tourists of their money. Chess sets, carpets and fake clothes/watches/handbags abound, oft-repeated from one stall to the next. Haggling is a must, and as it is a skill I lack, I most certainly was taken for a ride on the few items I did choose to purchase. I think I'll stick to eBay from now on. Inexplicably, I'd end up back at the bazaar at least three more times over the course of my trip. Go figure.

After this, we met up with Rosie and planned the next phase of our trip: Gallipoli. Dan had found out about a tour to Gallipoli, the area of Turkey in which allied forces (Dan's grandfather included) landed during the first world war. The tour we elected to go on was a two-day, all-inclusive affair; they included a bus trip to Channakale, a guided bus tour of the war sites and grave sites, a night in a local youth hostel and (the highlight of the trip), SCUBA diving down to WW1 wrecks.

As with all such war-memorial tours I've taken, this one was quite humbling. The territory was breathtakingly beautiful, from the azure ocean to the vibrant hillsides. To look out over such expanses and think of young men clawing their way up amidst machine-gun fire, to think of people spilling blood to either seize or defend such beautiful territory and the dominion of those who resided on it, is a shocking indictment of humanity.

The SCUBA diving was great, even though I got badly sunburned (due in part to my policy of staying out far too long because of my long-standing and never-successful policy of "if I'm not pink now, I never will be, right?" and due partly to Julia's sabotage of my lower back suntan lotion application.) We were cut somewhat short for time due to a few technical glitches early on, but I still got to go down and see a sunken desalinisation vessel. Apparently, the Turks had retrofitted a whaling boat to desalinate the sea water and provide fresh water for the troops. The thinking was that the allied ships wouldn't sink a civilian boat. This worked for awhile, until one of the allied warships finally asked the question "wait a minute! There aren't whales for thousands of miles, why do you need a whaling boat?", after which it was promptly sunk. This was my first time SCUBA-diving and I therefore had to stick close to the dive master, but it was a great experience. Once you get used to breathing through the regulator, the feeling of weightlessness really is amazing, and it was a great way to experience a small piece of history.

The next week was filled with debating, and I won't bore everyone with the details (all two of you who read this blog, anyway). Suffice it to say, it was filled with fun, merriment, pretension, drinking, socialising, catching up with old friends, meeting new friends, debating, debating and more debating, some more drinking, some wonderful buffets and some great parties. Koç put on an absolutely flawless tournament; from the food to the socials to the debating, everything was done to the highest standards and executed brilliantly. They are bidding for the world championships in 2010, and I hope they get it. Dan and I did alright at the tournament, but were disappointed by our early performance, which relegated us to some less-than-spectacular rooms later on. Highlights of the tournament for me were the night-time boat cruise of the Bosphorus river, the final round being held in a 5th century Byzantine cathedral, and the post-final clubbing in all our over-dressed, sweaty geekiness. You haven't lived until you've seen 200 debaters in a small, hot club in suits and ties, pretending they know how to dance.

After that, my plan had been to go to Safranbolu (a city in the north of Turkey that's generally out of the way and supposedly quite nice, old and quaint) for a day or so, then spend a few days in the Cappadocia region in the south, specifically hoping to solo-hike the length of the Ilhara Valley. However, after a solid week of debating, I was pretty worn out, and decided to spend a day at the beach, and doing some lounging around with various debaters at the university (which had a lovely pool). Both of these were nice and relaxing, and got my batteries well recharged; however, the lost time impinged on my other plans, and I had to scrap Safranbolu completely. In the end, though I greatly enjoyed the pool and beach time I had, I wish I'd been better organised about my travel plans; alas, it just gives me that much more to see on the next visit. And I did still get to see Cappadocia, which had been one of must-sees, and was a sublime experience.

Cappadocia, a region in the south of Turkey, is the centre of Turkey Christianity; for this reason, it is veritably littered with scores of ancient churches, frescoes and temples. What's fascinating about the region, however, is not that it is the epicentre of Christianity for the Turks; rather it is the unique landscapes and geological formations, and the resultant ways of life that took root there, creating environs that exist nowhere else and sit as monuments to austere beauty and workmanship. The central and preeminent feature of Cappadocia is the so-called "fairy chimneys" (pictured above). I won't go into detail about how these were formed, if you are curious, check out this brief Wikipedia article. Basically, ancient Turks can across these fairy chimneys and decided that they'd made great adobes. Therefore, the carved intricate, often multi-storey houses into the chimneys, and into many of the surrounding caves. They had windows, different rooms for different purposes, churches and more. The basically developed an entire society centred around the local geological formations. Interestingly, a few of these fairy chimneys are still inhabited, with some even being for sale.

This gives Cappadocia the feel of two very strong bits of fictional imagery: Bedrock City (from the Flintstones) and Tatooine (from Star Wars). Seeing dozens of caves (and pigeon coops) nestled into the windswept hills evokes both cultural images. I spent my time in Cappadocia both exploring on my own and on an organised tour. The open-air museum in Goreme features some of the most intricate fairy chimney abodes and many churches, and I spent a late morning/early afternoon perusing the museum. I then went off on my own, hiking through the nearby valley of swords, which contained a collection of smaller lumps, many of which were carved out, but the mority of them long since abandoned, and often eroded somewhat. It was tranquil and lovely, and when I crested the hill edging the valley, I could see down below a series of fields and what appeared to be some inhabited fairy chimneys. It was a scene of utter peace and exuded a sense of harmony. To enjoy the settings, I picked a cave carved into one of the lump-shaped abandoned mini-fairy chimneys and just read for several hours (Anil's Ghost for those that are curious, an amazingly descriptive work I'd highly recommend).
I also wrote some postcards, and may have napped for a short while. It was a lovely respite; while I enjoy an always-moving, see-everything-yo-can trip as well, there's something nice about just finding a shady, but still hot area, and relaxing completely.

The guided tour I did was of an underground city and a hike along the Ihhara Valley. The underground city, built millennia ago, and originally designed to house as many as 50,000 inhabitants. It was designed as a security feature, and was generally uninhabited. The idea was, the community would live in the city above, but if they were ever attacked, they could retreat to the underground city for refuge. The main access was through a narrow stairwell opening into a large chamber, thus allowing for an easy defence against any interlopers who might try to take over the city from above.

The Ihlara valley hike was quite possibly one of the most breathtaking walks I've ever taken. Cut through sandstone hills (with caves and churches carved into them at frequent intervals), the Ihlara Valley is a swath of lust foliage and a beautiful river amid the arid environs typical to that part of Anatolia. Pristine and dripping with a sense of history and grandeur, the valley is as yet not completely overrun by tourists, though they are plentiful. The hike takes about four hours, and you can hear the babbling of the river besides you at all times, while gazing up at the cliff face, in which thousands of people once lived, prayed and thrived. It's a truly unique locale, and although I was initially wary of taking a guided tour rather than going on my own, I'm glad that I did-it gave me a chance to see more than I would have otherwise, and the experience was wonderful. That night, I went out with some Canadians from the youth hostel in which I was staying (which, incidentally was built into a cave, very cool indeed) for an organised night of traditional Turkish dancing, food and wine. Very fun.

After that, I took the long bus ride back to Istanbul, where I stayed for a night before flying back to Manchester. The experience, I think it's fair to say, left me in some awe. Turkey is a fascinating country, and one about which I wish I knew more, and one to which I definitely aspire to return some day. Turkey is a country that is overwhelmingly Muslim, yet officially secular. It's a country that is the gateway between Europe and the Middle East, and that encompasses both a diverse and proud history, and a modern bent. All of this is reflect in many aspects of Turkey, but doubly so in Istanbul itself.

In Istanbul, it is a common sight to see a 1500-year-old mosque cloistered next to a modern glass office building. Markets and bazaars coexist with electronics shops and cellular phone providers. The country's religiosity is evident in the existence of the (technically banned) headscarves worn by many women, yet the secularism that is bound in law is obvious, in the bohemian, party atmosphere of the night life and the modernity of dress. There are, of course, factions that think this movement has happened too quickly-the recent election of the AK party, though tempered by the military, has shown that there are many who object to the banning of religious icons in public. Turkey clashes with its ethnic Kurdish people demonstrate the tensions that exist within this frequently conquered state, once subjugated by the Ottoman empire, among others.

Turkey seems to stand at a crossroads, disparate views stretching forth in front of it. The minarets of mosques that are visible throughout show its adherence to its Islamic roots, yet Turkey's on-again-off-again desire to join the European Union has brought about changes to its human rights and social welfare policies that are more in line with liberal democracies. The appeals of each seems to be divergent, yet the Turkish people seem to handle this internal conflict with comparative aplomb, the glittering skylines and traditional architecture a monument to the republic that Ataturk crated, forged in the crucible of the first world war. Whether they embrace the traditional roots, mired in the past, adherent to religious teachings and traditional values, or embrace the modernity offered by the western world, with its potential pitfalls in economics and the often-implied loss of individuality and morality, is still to be decided. Whichever road Turkey takes, a culture so strong, so proud and so deserving on unity and preservation seems unlikely to disappear into the miasma of sameness so prevalent in other parts of the world. As part of the EU, or as an independent nation, Turkey will always be Turkey: hot, beautiful, austere and traditional; giving, exciting, modern and
dynamic. As the office towers continue to sprout, the dily calls to prayer from the Blue Mosque will no doubt echo into the evening's gloom, a haunting testament to the well-deserved pride of Turkish people, and their strength.

Following the military triumph we accomplished by bayonets, weapons and blood, we shall strive to win victories in such fields as culture, scholarship, science and economics.
- Mustafa Kemal Atatürk

Update: Manchester, Poland and beyond

When I last brought everyone up to date on my status, I had just spent my first Christmas away from home, and my second New Years Eve. Since then, not a heck of a lot has gone on, but enough to warrant an update. (note: click on any of the pictures in this post to see a larger version)

I spent the first few months of 2007 as I spend most of my months-going to debate tournaments and slacking off from doing any real work. The debate season is much less intense after the Christmas break, so there were only a few IVs (tournaments) to go to, though we did quite well by and large (I generally went with DanB). We went to Glasgow twice, Edinburgh, and London and made it to the final or semi-final in each. Many escapades occurred at some of these, though I won't get into that, even if I could remember all the details.

The most interesting one was Tilbury House. Tilbury House is the debate society for the University of Cologne, Germany, and is legendary amongst Manchester debaters for being the most fun IV of the year. Aside from the fact that the Tilbury guys are some of the coolest, nicest and easiest-going debaters, it's also a chance to see a really nice city in Germany, and they provide all sort of entertainment and spectacle.

As is traditional with foreign IVs, we spent a few days just exploring Cologne itself. The highlights of this are the gorgeous cathedral and the Lindt chocolate musem. The Cathedral is a massive testament to the Catholic church's penchant from dramatic architecture and the spires affords some amazing view of the city (in addition to a cardio workout that is non-pareil, given the number of steps one must climb to get there. Massive, vaulted ceilings, beautiful stained glass and works of art, and a series of enormous bells give testament to what you can achieve with nearly limitless untaxed financial resources, and a dedication to a higher power. Simply put, if you want to inspire a sense of awe in the almighty in people, a building like this is a great way to do it.

Interestingly, though, I found the interior of the cathedral to be somewhat... austere... compared to others I've seen. Notre Dame and Le Sacre Coeur in Paris, for example, absolutely drip with ostentatious opulence and grandeur. The Cologne cathedral, on the other hand-while grand and well-ornamented to be sure-had an interior largely devoid of excessive decoration. The massive walls up to the vaulted ceiling, for example, were largely bare, and presented an almost ascetic view of the church. Don't misunderstand-paintings and stained glass still abound, but they are more confined to specific areas than I've noted in other such grandiose churches.

The Lindt chocolate museum, on the other hand, was sugar-sweet fun. It showed a history of both the origins of the cocoa bean and its cultivation, and the Lindt company itself. A wander-at-your-own-pace experience, I was able to see everything from the earliest tools and canoe used to harvest and transport the pods of cocoa beans, up to currently-operational chocolate-making machinery. Quite an interesting process to get from giant palm-frond-bearing trees with nearly tasteless, bitter beans up to chocolate so yummy it borders on being a controlled substance. Plus, the entire place smells of chocolate, which is always nice. There's also a gift shop, which is just mean, because after spending an hour and a half learning about chocolate, how am I supposed to resist spending way too much on cool varieties of chocolate (including my favourite-dark chocolate with a hint of chili powder).

The tournament itself was fun, though I did disappointingly poorly. In general, I'm not too fussed about doing well or poorly, but in this case, I felt my team (Hannah and I) were clearly robbed in one round, which I do find frustrating. Still, one of the advantages of being thoroughly non-competitive is that you can still enjoy yourself even if you don't win. And we did that in droves. From a "bar crawl" that covered all of two bars (the latter of which I almost immediately fell asleep in despite being only tipsy) to a basement club buffet and party, to Kenny and I fake-smoking rolled-up vanilla wafers (while wearing a ridiculous shamrock Guinness hat I'd brought because it was St. Patrick's Day), it was a good time all around, and I eagerly await going back next year for more. And, in fairness, Manchester was represented in the final, as Tom and Kenny defended the right of people to gauge in incestual relationships (note: the sides of a debate are chosen randomly, and debaters' views do no necessarily represent what they argue in the round).

The next big event was my trip to Krakow, Poland. This was a fairly spur-of-the-moment trip, organised all of ten days before we left. Mo and his MBA compatriots were set to finish their course near the middle of April, and Mo wanted to take some time off to travel before starting work. Therefore, he recruited myself and his friend Sam into a trip to Eastern Europe. We settled on Krakow fairly arbitrarily, insofar as it was cheap, none of us had ever been there, and I'd heard it was great (I have several friends who had spent some time in Krakow, and all raved about the experience). And I have to say, I'm glad we went.

I had misconceptions about Eastern Europe, largely based on the dated stereotypes of a run-down, desolate wasteland, held over from the days of the USSR and its iron curtain (see Eurotrip for the classic view of this stereotype). In fact, it's quite the contrary. Since the collapse of the Berlin wall and Soviet-era communism, and aided by the EU, the former Eastern Bloc countries have pushed for greater integration and prosperity, and it shows. Yes, there are still pre-fab construction apartment blocks, but there's also a wealth of old and exquisite architecture. Honestly, it's one of the favourite trips I've taken, and I cannot wait to go back.

Partly, we got lucky. The entire time we were there, it was 22C and sunny, which makes any trip nicer (just wish I'd brought shorts). But it's more than that. Krakow, especially in April, when we went, isn't too touristy, so you don't get a throng of camera-wielding people wherever you go. Everything is cheap-food, beer, consumer products, all cost about 1/3 of what they do in the UK. The women are beautiful and plentiful, a wonderful-if rare-combination. The nightlife was thriving and featured a lack of cover charges in addition to the aforementioned cheap drinks. And there's tons of history, which I will describe below (since the nightlife stories don't exactly require a lot of explanation). There are three historic sites of note which I visited while there: Kamierz, Auschwitz, Wawel Castle and the Wieliczka salt mine.

Kazimierz is the Jewish district, which at one point was the largest Jewish community in all of Europe. Though many of the Jews fled during the Nazi occupation, the area still maintains its distinctive feel and atmosphere, and provided a nice walk on a sunny day. I also ate, with Sam, one of the best meals I had in Poland at a small restaurant called "Noah's Ark", which featured live traditional Jewish music, played by a three-piece band (bass, clarinet and accordion).

Auschwitz, of course, lies at the other end of the spectrum of Jewish significance. The site of the largest concentration camps of the Nazi regime, Auschwitz and Birkenau, the location is steeped in morbid infamy. I unfortunately arrived late in the day, only about an hour and a half before the close of the camp (now a museum), so I didn't get to explore to the extent that I would have liked.

The front gates of Auschwitz are marked with the infamous slogan Arbeit Macht Frei. This translates to "work will set you free". Which, as it turns out, was a lie. Auschwitz, and more specifically Birkenau (which I ran out of time for, and didn't get to see) were home to the worst parts of the Nazi "Final Solution". This is where people were herded onto cattle cars and gassed by the thousands. Needless to say, it's a sobering experience. However, what I found interesting is that the camp itself didn't seem as ominous as I'd expected; though obviously people were crammed in well beyond any reasonable capacity, the barracks looked like standard barracks, not the bastions of torture they really were. What really drove the point home, though, was the little things. It was seeing a display of the hundreds of thousands of eye glasses, shoes or combs that were unearthed. Even though it doesn't seem like this should carry the same weight as the pictures and descriptions of the place, these displays of so many commonplace objects, combined with the obvious reason behind their being discarded, really drove home the magnitude of the atrocities.

It also created an interesting dilemma for me, as a visitor to the camp. After being chastised many times by my mother for taking pictures of places and things as opposed to myself in those places, I have made sure I get photos of myself whenever I travel. But, it brought up an interesting question: is it right to smile in a photo taken at Auschwitz? It seems very disrespectful to be smiling in photos of a place where one of the worst crimes in human history was perpetrated, where untold millions lost their lives. In the end, I chose to appear in the photos, but to not smile.

Wieliczka, on the other hand, is a much cheerier place. It's a salt mine first opened in the 13th century, though surface salt had been discovered as much as 200 years prior. It's also, by far, the biggest salt mine in the world, extending down over 300m and featuring over 200km of internal tunnels and over 2000 caverns. This alone would make it an interesting site to see. What's truly fascinating, however, is the carvings. You see, as the miners (who were not professional sculptors) dug further into the earth, they created massive carvings along their way, of amazing intricacy. But these carvings and statues were not hewn from stone or wood; instead they were carved directly into the salt walls themselves. The big giant head you see Mo and I standing besides (and old king of Poland), for example, was carved directly from the salt itself as the cavern was excavated. Futhermore, the plaque behind the head, the walls and even the floor and ceiling were similarly carved out of the salt walls. They even carved mosaics, including the last supper and other frescos. The work was amazing intricate and I verified that it was made out of salt (I licked the Copernicus statue). The amount of time and effort required for such a thing is truly mind-boggling.

Perhaps most impressive, though, was the main hall. The picture you see to the left is a view from the balcony (also carved out of salt). What must be noted about this view is that everything is made out of salt. The stairs, the floor "tiles", even the chandeliers! At one point, this entire hall (about 125m underground, by the way) was nothing more than a solid wall of rock salt. It was only as the salt was removed for sale and processing that the hall as you now see it emerged. And once more, you wouldn't know it, unless you you were told (or licked the walls and floor), because the floor looks like marble tiles, as do the stairs and walls; the chandeliers look like any other crystal chandeliers, and the wall carvings look like stone carvings. At the far end of the hall is an entire Catholic altar for church proceedings (most of the miners were very religious). It truly was a marvel to see.

Needless to say, I loved Poland. while there I ran into a random Canadian who was spending a year teaching English. I have to see, it's an idea whose appeal seems instantly obvious to me. I thoroughly enjoyed my time there, and cannot wait to go back; the idea of being able to spend a year really getting to know the city is one with great magnetism. No matter what, I know I will return, as soon as I am able.

And that brings us pretty much up to speed. My work is progressing, slowly. I have made up my first batch of samples, and have sent them off to the lab with which collaborate (in Marseilles, France). In the meantime, I'm back to doing more boring journal-reading and online research. Which is why I get bored and write in my blog instead of doing work. That being said, I'm hoping to get some real results soon, which is both encouraging and something I hope will spur further excitement-it's easy to feel the drag of long projects like this one. I hope all is well with any who read this, and look forward to hearing from you soon.