The Constantinople Communiqué
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| Hagia Sophia |
Welcome
back, and a late Yeni Yıllar Mutlu Olsun!
// Happy New Year to you!
I’m reasonably
sure that no one will feel in the least bad about putting the year 2020 behind
us. I know I won’t. It sure was a looong decade.
A
Challenging Fall
Perhaps the three of you
recall that I arrived in Turkey back in August – in the midst of the pandemic,
of course – but that I traveled here without my best girl or Riley The Wonder
Dog. Kate remained behind at the time to
wait on cooler weather for travel with the dog, and also because her mom was
having some serious health issues, so she and Riley had gone to Madison to help
care for her.
As her mom’s
health deteriorated in mid-October, I took some use-or-lose leave time and
returned to the US to be with the family.
I flew to St Paul to meet up with Sophie, and then Kate and Riley joined
us there a few days later. The three of
us were together when her mom passed away on the evening of October 28, and
while not unexpected (she was 83, had several semi-serious underlying
conditions, and as she dealt with treatment for bladder cancer, her kidneys and
liver went into failure), it was, of course, very difficult and heart breaking. She was well cared for, both by the health
care professionals and by Kate and her sister Amy, and during those last days Barb
had the chance to say her goodbyes to lifelong friends, neighbors, her sister
Aunt Squeezy, and to all of her nine grandchildren. Her wish for everyone was that they make a
plan to vote and to always be preparing for the next party, and no doubt now she’s
together with her beloved husband of 50-odd years doing just that.
Given the
circumstances of the pandemic, no service was held at the time, and a memorial
is taking shape for summer 2021, when her ashes will join those of Kate’s dad Tom
in a local park, and a big party will be held.
The holiday season here was quite the muted affair for us, as I’m reasonably sure it was for you as well. Typically, there are quite the celebrations to be had here in Istanbul to ring in the New Year, and is one of those places often seen on television as the networks broadcast fireworks and festivities from the world’s major cities. While 95% of Turks are Muslim, Christmas was indeed widely marked, mostly in the commercial sense and especially in the local shopping malls which tended to feature somewhat ostentatious decorations.
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| Christmas lights in our housing complex |
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| Fancy Christmas decorations in the shopping mall |
But of course, big celebrations were not to be this year, and so virtually everyone spent their time quietly with friends and family. In a country such as Turkey, with its national government more able – and willing – to use its authority and exercise strict controls over the populous, there wasn’t much choice in the matter.
Life at the
Speed of Riley
As I noted in the fall communiqué, those restrictions have been in place to one degree or another over all manner of activity since my arrival last summer. Like many places around the world, the limitations have fluctuated over the past months.
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| Riley's spirit animal |
Consequently,
we live in one of the great cities on the planet, a city in a country literally
filled with the culture, music, art, architecture, cuisine, and history of the
world, and yet we are able to see and experience very little at the
moment. Of course, this is a necessary,
and most certainly not unique, situation.
And therefore, our lives are currently moving at the speed of Riley,
which is to say pretty darn slowly.
From a U.S.
government perspective, our leadership and Emergency Action Committee has
instituted strict controls over the standard work environment. This means our American staff is on a
staggered rotation, one week on (in the office), one week off (work from home)
schedule, with the additional understanding that if we can work from home, we
should work from home. Many of our local
colleagues have been working from home full-time for more than a year now. As a matter of fact, I have only met two of
my local Turkish colleagues, in person and in the office, since my arrival
eight months ago, and one of those meetings was for a matter of minutes when
they had to come to the Consulate for IT help.
Each section in the Consulate (Political/Economic, Management, Consular,
Foreign Commercial Service, Foreign Agriculture Service, Public Affairs, and
more), is allowed a bit of flexibility based on the essential nature of the
work, but for all practical purposes, the Consulate is closed for all but
emergency or otherwise essential work.
(To the best of our ability, however, we do what we can virtually, with
obvious limitations.)
From a personal
perspective, it’s a pretty small world. We
live in a lovely apartment in a nice housing complex called Istinye Park, about
ten minutes from the Consulate by car.
There is enough green space for Riley, a small café, gym and swimming
pool (all on restricted hours, or closed altogether), and the complex is
attached on one side to a large, modern, high-end shopping mall which includes
a small grocery store. The mall remains
open, but also on restricted hours, and the grocery provides us with basics and
a bit more if we’re unable to get to the larger supermarket (the French chain
called Carrefour). The three of us spend
the majority of our time together, unless it’s a week when I can go to the
office (in which case I will go three or four times). Riley gets his three walks a day around the
complex, and when all you do is see the same streets, the same buildings, and
the same people and dogs all the time, you begin to notice other things,
principally sounds: the haunting sound of horns from large
ships navigating the Bosporus about a mile away; the report of guns from the
local gun club a few blocks from here; the ezan, or call to
prayer, which of course happens five times a day; and the near constant
mosquito-like buzz of little motorbikes delivering all manner of things, all
day long. (They really have that system
down pat!) I work out of our third
bedroom, and Kate takes virtual Turkish lessons, hosts a virtual book club, fusses
over Riley, and spends time with a couple of good Foreign Service friends we
have here in Istinye Park.
It’s All Gone
to the Dogs
The other thing we see
all over Istinye Park, in fact all over Istanbul, are cats and dogs. In October 2019, a Turkish journalist and
filmmaker wrote a column in the New York Times in which she reported on the estimated
130,000 dogs and 125,000 cats freely roaming about the city.
But while they
are strays, they are not a nuisance. In
fact, such animals in all of Turkey’s major cities receive regular veterinary
care, food and other services all from local governments. Wandering the streets of old Istanbul, it
isn’t uncommon at all to see large, well fed, tagged dogs (indicating they’ve
been spayed or neutered) snoozing in parks or the open doorways of shops,
standing expectantly outside the butcher or fishmonger, or wandering the narrow
alleys. Rarely aggressive, the people of
the city take great care for these fellow inhabitants of their city, often spending
their own money to provide makeshift shelters, food and water for them. We live about 30 minutes by car from the
historic center of Istanbul, and even along the highways in the grassy areas
off to the side we’ll see dogs lying about and wandering freely. (It scares the dickens out of me to see them
so close to major highways, though!)
It’s the same for cats, but of course they are far more aloof and
independent.
It hasn’t
always been this way, however. Like many
large cities in the developing world, the Istanbul of the mid- to
late-twentieth century had its problems with large packs of stray dogs and
cats, and they tried animal control of all the usual kinds (typically culling,
often in rather inhumane ways), with little success. One small group of local Istanbulus, after
witnessing this gruesome task in the late 90s, decided to take action and
unleashed the new power of social media.
In June 2004, the Turkish government passed a law requiring local
governments to rehabilitate the animals rather than kill them, requiring
governments to provide staff and funds to sterilize, vaccinate, care for and
clean up after them, and return the animals to where they were found. The tags in the ears also include microchips and
are visible signs to the public and municipal workers that the animals have
been sterilized and vaccinated. Across
Turkey, the teams of workers who once were “extermination teams” are now
“animal welfare teams,” and people and animals have developed a kind of easy
harmony everywhere we’ve visited.
One day Kate
and some friends were out walking near our apartment and came across a very
scared, but clearly domesticated puppy they named Phil (he had a collar but no
name tag). They managed to coax him
over, and once they had ahold of his collar, he calmed right down, clearly
knowing they would keep him safe and out of nearby traffic. They walked him down the hill to the local vet,
who said he would keep Phil until they found the owner, if one could be tracked
down. Kate and her companions begged the
vet not to put Phil down, and the vet chuckled and said, “We don’t do that in
Turkey.” (The owner claimed Phil the next day.)
No system is
perfect, but it seems to work very well, and the people we’ve seen have
uniformly shown care and gentleness toward their four-legged friends. It’s all quite refreshing.
Wishing You
Good Lucks Learning Turkish!
The most charming aspect
of the Turkish language to me is the propensity to make positive wishes plural. Even the standard greetings are often
pluralized. So rather than iyi gün (good day), you often hear iyi günler (good
days). Instead of iyi akşam
(good evening) you hear iyi akşamlar
(good evenings); iyi şans (good luck) you get iyi şanslar (good lucks); and so on.
I mean, who
doesn’t want more good days, good evenings, good lucks, and so on? Those things should always, and for everyone,
be plural, shouldn’t they? How pleasant
is that?
Another element
of Turkish I find interesting is naming conventions, particularly for given
names. English doesn’t have an easy way
to determine a male name from a female name like Russian does (female names in
Russian end with the vowel ‘a’), you just have to know which is which. Turkish is the same, and like any language
there are historic and family names passed down over the generations, or names
that originate from a place where the family may have settled many moons ago,
or historic family tradesmen or women.
There are
pretty standard names that one might recognize anywhere in the world, such as
Ali (which is my “Starbucks name” when I go to Shakeshack, because I always get
that blank look of incomprehension when I say my name is, you know, Dave),
Yusuf (Joseph), and Mustafa, or Defne (Daphne), Meryem (Mary) and Fatima. But it’s also really common to impart bits
of wisdom, hopes or enjoyable ideas or concepts on a newborn child, as is the
case in many languages. Some examples of
names that have such underlying meaning include Arzu (which means wish or
desire), Müge (lily of the
valley), Fulya (daffodil), Deniz (sea), Mücevher or Cevher (jewel), Güven (faith or trust), Fatih (conqueror or
victor), Ipek (silk), Ilknur (literally first light, and uses the Arabic word
for light ‘nur’), and Elif (the first letter of the alphabet in Arabic).
Not suprisingly, the naming convention gold medal
goes to the father of modern Turkey, Mustafa Kemal, better known as Atatürk. At birth (in modern-day Thessaloniki, Greece)
in about 1881 he was called Ali Rıza oğlu Mustafa,
which means Mustafa, son of Ali Rıza
(you might recall that Turkish is generally read in reverse order). He was born Mustafa, but his math teacher gave
him the name Kemal, which means perfection or maturity. Mustafa Kemal later became a gifted military
leader and made his name (haha) at the Battle of Gallipoli in World War I, then
after the war led the War for Independence after which he established the
Turkish Republic in 1923. He was the
first president of Turkey, and with the passage of the Surname Law in 1934, the
National Assembly bestowed upon him a new name:
Atatürk, which uses the Arabic and Persian word for gift (ata), which is
also the Turkish word meaning forefather, so his name literally means “father
of the Turks.” He had no biological
children when he died in 1938, but had adopted 13: one boy and 12 girls, one of
whom was both the first Turkish female pilot and the world’s first female
fighter pilot. (Her name, Sabiha Gökçen,
appropriately uses the word gök (sky) and graces one of the airports in Istanbul.) Atatürk’s
name and image appear on all the currency, across the country in place names
and on statues, and his image is even very common in stores and shops, usually
on a wall somewhere behind the register.
As we’ve traveled around a bit, I’ve even seen many cars with a sticker
of his signature on the rear window. A
close American comparison could be made with George Washington, although we
don’t usually see an image of George prominently displayed in stores these
days.
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| Mustafa Kemal Atatürk cut a dashing figure, seen here in the 1930s (Wikimedia Commons photo.) |
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| Statue of Atatürk providing literacy to the children, and a nice place to nap for the doggos |
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| Atatürk astride his steed. The text reads "Turks are a nation that does not accept slavery" |
A Taste of What Will Be
Despite the pretty heavy
restrictions due to the pandemic, we did manage one weekend away back in
February for the long President’s Day weekend.
As we had only recently received the license plates for our car, we
decided to take advantage of the good infrastructure here and make a road trip
to an area where Aristotle once had one of his famous Academies and where Saint
Paul once visited during his missionary trips around Asia Minor. This place is filthy with history.
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| View of the Aegean Sea from our hotel balcony in Assos |
Turkey has a
very well-developed tourism industry, and given the geographic and historical
diversity here, one can find anything from alpine skiing in the mountains, to archeological
ruins waiting to be explored (even some which are underwater!), to hot air
balloon rides over fantastical geologic formations, to the turquoise sea of the
Turkish Riviera along the Mediterranean coast.
Our trip was a relatively quiet one, coming as it did in the middle of
the winter, amidst the worsening pandemic, and with our destination catering
more typically to summer crowds. We
packed up the car with Riley and our adventure gear (for us that basically just
means hiking boots), and headed southwest of Istanbul for Assos, or Behramkale
in Turkish, along the Aegean coast.
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| Typical Turkish Breakfast |
We set out
along the highway in Thrace (the European side of the country) and headed
towards the Gelibolu
peninsula, known to most of the rest of the world as Gallipoli, famous for the
battles fought there during World War I.
I only managed to get off the beaten track once, but it took us off the
main highway for about 90 minutes or so, bumping along the rural, pothole-strewn
asphalt until we reconnected to the highway.
Still on the European side, we grabbed the car ferry and crossed the
Bosporus to the town of Çanakkale on
the Anatolian side in Asia. The trip was
pretty uneventful, and the countryside was pleasant but generally unremarkable,
although it became quite stunning as we neared the coast. We stopped only once, in Çanakkale, for a
quick photo of the giant model of the Trojan horse (used when making the film
Troy), positioned just off the ferryboat pier along the corniche. Continuing south, we passed the signs for the
ruins and museum for Troy, but it was still an hour or so to Assos and we were
not interested in driving in the dark, so we left Troy for another day.
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| "It's only a model!" Trojan horse model from the 2004 movie filmed nowhere near here |
Our little inn was a clean and very simple
family-run affair just outside the town of Assos and along the rugged coastline
of the Aegean. I imagine that in the
summer it would be fully occupied and the many terraces overlooking the water
and the Greek island of Lesbos just across the straits would be packed with
diners. Mid-winter, however, we were one
of only maybe five other guests, and I learned later that upon check-out the
inn would close for two weeks so they could do some remodeling in the kitchen.
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| Greek island of Lesbos from our hotel terrace in Assos, Turkey |
The weather was
temperamental, with one calm day of pretty decent winter sunshine and cool but
not cold temperatures, but then came the winds and periodic rains. And wow was it windy. We drove around this little corner of Aegean
Turkey, peeking through the fences of sites that were closed on the weekend due
to the nationwide lockdowns (tourists are exempt, but 1. We are not considered
tourists, as we have temporary residency, and 2. It doesn’t much matter to be a
tourist if all the tourist sites are closed), and hoofing it around the open-air
places of interest.
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| Entrance to one of the baths at the ruins of the Baths of Herodes Atticus |
Our long
weekend featured visits to the Baths of Herodes Atticus and the Altar of Zeus (both
outdoor and therefore open to explore during the weekend lockdown); the small
village and fortress of Babakale (literally translated means Father Castle), evidently
famous for hand-made knives and reportedly the western-most tip of Asia; and
scenic drives through the hilly countryside and coast. Lockdowns and curfews end early on Monday
(evidently the pandemic only rages on the weekends), so on President’s Day we
visited the ruins and museum of Ancient Troy, as they were open to visitors.
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| The ruins of ancient Troy |
The biggest adventure,
however, was the trip back north to Istanbul.
As it was mid-winter and there was a bit of weather this time of year,
we encountered a bit of rain, lots of wind, and then some snow. Now, I imagine that none of the three of you
really think “snow” when you think of Turkey, but indeed it does snow here, and
not just at elevation in the mountains.
All weekend we would get a blowing rain-snow mix, but it was never more
than a light coating of the white stuff.
Until, that is, we started back.
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| Shelter in the snow to protect the local kitties |
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| RTWD does love galivanting in the snow |
If you don’t
stop, the trip from Assos to Istanbul is about six hours or so. Being the smarty-pants that I am, I thought
we’d go a different route home than the one we took to get there. Not long after we departed, however, the snow
started in earnest, and as we entered more hilly terrain it really started
coming down. By the time we were about
two hours into the trip, the we were in a veritable blizzard, and when we
reached the town of Balıkesir
to connect to the main freeway, it was actually closed due to snow. I mean, completely closed, with no sign at
all that it would open any time soon. I’ve
never seen anything like it, honestly, and we come from snow country up
north. And it’s not like, say Florida or
Mississippi or something, where snow is so rare as to completely shut things
down at the first sign of a flurry.
Nope, they have snow plows and everything here (which was a surprise to
me), but this was a lot of snow.
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| These trucks were literally going nowhere, and therefore neither were we |
We pulled into a gas station in Balıkesir
to take stock and have a not-too-terrible convenience store sandwich, and
decided we had no confidence the road would open at all that day. Now the key was to find a place that would
allow Riley to stay with us, and doing so might prove a bit of a challenge. Fortunately, the cell service is also
well-developed here, so we were able to sit in the car at the gas station and
search for a place to stay. I happened on
the site for the local Ramada Inn, and while it made no mention of whether or
not pets were allowed, we were burning daylight, and if we didn’t make arrangements
soon, we might be sleeping in the car.
We made our way
along the snowy streets to the hotel, and Kate took Riley for a little walk to
find a patch of snow-covered grass or something while I went in to do battle with my Turkish
and get us a room. The desk staff was
very friendly, and it turned out they had one room left, but it was a suite, “Would
that be ok?” In my Turklish and the desk
staff’s pretty decent English, I asked if they would allow our friendly and
gentle doggo as well.
“Oh, I’m sorry
sir, we don’t allow dogs in the hotel,” said the front desk manager.
“Ah, I see. Not even for just the one night? You see, we’re stranded because of course the
highway is closed, and have nowhere else to go tonight. He’s very quiet, very gentle and will cause
no trouble,” I pleaded.
“Hmm…” he mumbled,
glancing at his colleagues, “Let me call my boss,” he said.
“That would be
great, I’d really appreciate it,” I said.
“If not here, can you recommend a place for us to go?” I asked. “We just need it for the one night, and as
you can imagine, it’s not easy to find a place at the last minute like this,” I
hinted.
Holding his
phone and ready to dial, he said, “Well, what kind of dog do you have, sir?”
Like a gunslinger
of the Old West, I whipped out my phone and showed the short video I had just
taken of Riley romping in a snow bank less than an hour earlier. “Riley the Wonder Dog is a gentle old Golden Retriever!”
I nearly shouted.
His face melted
into a big smile, and he said “Oooooh, well in that case, I think we can make
an exception – but I must take a picture with him, because he will be the first
– and probably the only – dog ever to stay at our hotel!”
The local
bakery down the street was still open after we checked in, and not long
thereafter the desk staff had a dozen fresh macarons to share as a small token
of our thanks. A decent (albeit not
terribly hot), steak, salad, and a pretty good bottle of red for room service, a
hot shower, and a quiet room helped us to weather the storm, so to speak, and shortly after
a nice Turkish breakfast the next day, the highway opened up and we made our
way back without further trouble.
If you ever
find yourself in Balıkesir,
stop in to the Ramada and tell them you’re friends with Riley the Wonder Dog,
they’ll take good care of you.
Şimdilik güle güle!
Well,
we’re nearly nine months in to this three-year tour, the vast majority of which
has been spent here in Istinye Park. But
we have had other small adventures here and there, like trips into the old city
on those three lockdown-free Saturdays and on the Martin Luther King, Jr. holiday. Kate has had a few adventures of her own,
with a day trip to the famous town of Iznik, also known by its ancient name Nicaea
(of the Nicaean Creed), which today is known for the workshops producing hand-painted
Iznik ceramic tiles. She and her friends
venture out of the apartment complex every week to the local park nearby, down to
the waterfront of the Bosporus, to visit an old Byzantine fortress along the
water, or to tour the Ottoman palace closer to the city.
Historic streetcar and the Taksim Square Mosque 
Some of the millions of tulips in the park near us 
Charming street in Kadıköy
Sophie is still
in St. Paul working for Fairview Health Services, and like many who started new
jobs or careers mid-pandemic, she has yet to work in the office, creating a
small home office in the apartment she shares with her good friend Claire.
Tommy and Jenna
moved from Arlington into Washington, D.C. back in early January - coincidentally,
the same week as the failed insurrection at the Capitol and only a few blocks
from it. Jenna continues her accounting
work from home full-time, Tommy will be leaving his job as a contractor in the
IT field later this summer as he will be starting graduate school in August at Johns
Hopkins School of Advanced International Studies, a two-year program at the D.C.
campus that allows his first year to be completed in Bologna, Italy.
My mom and dad completed
the successful process of moving from their home of 50+ years back in the fall,
and just weeks ago the house was put on the market, selling within just a few
days. Given that we are, you know, kind
of far away, I will be forever grateful that my Milwaukee-based brother has
been there to help shepherd them through this stressful and challenging process.
Fully vaccinated, or scheduled to be shortly, the Team is very much looking forward to the return of something akin to normal travel opportunities, which of course also means we are very much looking forward to your visit!
The onset of 2021, and more to the point the entire year 2020, has us a bit
metaphorically bruised and battered, but we all remain healthy and safe, and we
hope you can say the same.
-30-
The symbol of Istanbul, created for and winner of a 1969
design contest, shows the Bosporus separating Europe from Asia in a crest along
the bottom, topped by the ramparts of the ancient city walls. The only city in the world that exists on two
continents, it also is said to have been founded on seven hills (the triangles),
and of course is home to some of the world’s most iconic mosques like Hagia
Sophia, shown with the four minarets and the domes.
Please do not disseminate widely without permission.
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