Original Article: http://dartreview.com/archives/2002/04/09/third_world_report_from_istanbul_and_bratislava.php
Tuesday, April 9, 2002
Things began well. My flight to Budapest was uneventful, and I was lounging in the airport and reading a John Irving paperback, becoming nostalgic for my former years in New Hampshire. From the corner of my eye, I noticed dark black smoke billowing from a large aircraft. Few others seemed to notice, but a few travelers stopped and stared in amazement. One traveler asked me if I knew which airline it was—I didn't. He hoped it wasn't his. Soon the fire was extinguished and I boarded my flight.
Landing in Istanbul, I had the opportunity to pay fifty dollars for the privilege of entering the Turkish Republic—at least the visa looks nice. I met my friend at the baggage claim, and we found a cab. We tried to explain to the driver where we wanted to go, but, unable to do so successfully, we agreed on the standard 'Sultanahmet' tourist area. But, before we exited the airport complex, we rear-ended a truck. No one was hurt—except the driver's pride and some of his car—but it was a strange welcome to Turkey. Our driver got out and argued with the truck driver although our driver was at fault. When we arrived in Sultanahmet, he demanded the full fare, and I couldn't persuade him that a car accident should warrant a discount. He pointed at his ruined fender and said he needed the money. I couldn't argue with that logic.
Istanbul has always stood in my mind as the epitome of exotic travel. Straddling the Golden Horn and the Bosphorus, Istanbul—the home to many of the finest examples of religious architecture and the capital of not one, but two of the greatest empires in history—has much to offer the traveler. I have visited a few times previously, but the city still excites me. My friend and I made the rounds of the requisite sights—the Hagia Sofia, the Sulimaniye Mosque, the Sultanahmet Mosque, the Grand Bazaar and many others.
Despite the fact that there is enough in Istanbul to occupy one for months, posters of this odd moonscape distracted my friend. The posters looked of something from parts of the Badlands, except with churches and houses. I agreed to head to Cappadocia.
However, we encountered another problem. We had inadvertently come to Turkey at the time of its biggest public holiday Bayrum. The holiday is the anniversary of Abraham's near-sacrifice of his son Isaac. People in the major cities return to their villages, slaughter animals, and hold festivities.
Somehow we managed to find two bus tickets to Goreme, a village in the middle of Cappadocia. Long distance travel within Turkey is most often done by bus. Unlike your old-fashioned school bus, these are almost luxury vehicles. The bus companies treat their customers like airlines treat their passengers, probably better. A conductor walks through the bus and offers tea or coffee to passengers. Prior to reaching our destination, the conductor distributed cologne. The seats were comfortable and there was at least as much legroom as on an airplane.
Still, an overnight bus ride across central Anatolia can induce strange and lonely thoughts within a person. The bus traversed the wide-open spaces, the blanket of stars, and the dots of tiny farming villages.
Cappadocia most closely resembles the moon or, perhaps, the Great Rift Valley. People have the inhabited the area for millennia, finding the hills the perfect hiding places from intruders. The region was particularly important to the Christian communities of various centuries as they resisted persecution from authorities. Evidence of their existence remains in the form of numerous churches and monasteries, some still with intact frescoes of the saints and Holy Family. After wandering the villages of Cappadocia my friend and I boarded another overnight bus, this time bound for Hatay.
I'm a big fan of obscure historical footnotes, and the province of Hatay has one. Located on a peninsular piece of Turkish territory where the Mediterranean coast begins to head south, the province borders Syria. Among the important sites in this area are the river where the Battle of Issus pitted Alexander against Darius, the city of Alexandretta, and the former Greco-Roman town of Antioch. Following the breakup of the Ottoman Empire after World War I, the area was a tiny, independent protectorate of the French, until Ataturk seized it just before the outbreak of World War II.
Contemporary Antioch, called Hatay or alternatively Antakya, has a run-down, border-town feel to it. Signs are in both Turkish and Arabic, and upon arrival bus hustlers asked if we wanted tickets to Halep, or Allepo (Syria), about four hours away. We desperately wanted to go, but we did not possess the proper visas. Instead, we followed the main street into town. Past the bazaar and next to the ancient Orontes river, we found an acceptable hotel. We watched Syrian television, although our Arabic was as lacking as our Turkish.
The main draw of Hatay is the archaeological museum. Princeton University conducted archaeological digs in the Antioch area in the 1930s, bringing to light a collection of mosaics rivaled only by those in Tunisia. Although a few found their way back to New Jersey, most of these are found in a nondescript museum next to the Orontes. During our visit to the museum, we were the only people other than the staff in the building. It was a wonderful experience to amble quietly through the museum, admiring the craftsmanship of work struck roughly 1600 years ago.
Just outside of town is the Church of St. Peter. Peter and Paul are thought to have preached to the nascent Christian community in a small church carved into a mountain. Presently a very sedate pilgrimage site, the church was a quiet place to visit. A few boys played football outside the gates, and an odd man showed us some religious trinkets for sale. I purchased a small metal crucifix for about a dollar. As important a site as the church was in the history of the church (it was here, according to the Bible, that the Christians first described themselves as Christians), the site was delightfully still, devoid of the gaudy trappings of places like Medugorie.
Later that day, we boarded a bus to Adana in order to catch a flight back to Istanbul. The bus rolled through Iskenderun (Alexandretta) and past several enchanting castles that begged to be explored. Outside of Adana, we could see the sprawling American Incirlik Air Force Base, home to the fighter squadrons that patrol the Iraqi No-Fly Zones. Somehow, it all seemed a shame to leave behind.
Bratislava
Slovakia—once part of Czechoslovakia. The Czechs and Slovaks had an amicable divorce, unlike that nasty custody battle in Yugoslavia, and now there is a country called Slovakia. Bratislava is its capital.
Unlike Prague, no one seems to know of Bratislava. And to be honest, at first glance, there is not much to hold one's attention. The eager student backpacker who might land in the Bratislava train station would likely take one look at the communist era architecture and flee on the next train to Budapest.
Bratislava is Stalin's last stand in Eastern Europe. It has all the worst elements of Soviet-style architecture: sprawling apartment blocks, crumbling public buildings, and deteriorating streets.
For a period, Bratislava was the capital of the Habsburg Empire; Maria Teresa was crowned in St. Martin's Cathedral. Curiously, this cathedral is topped by the Crown of St. Stephen, a reminder of the city's Hungarian influences. The old town area is full of reminders of its imperial past—churches, impressive imperial buildings, and smart shops crowd the closed, cobblestone streets. There is even a museum to the German composer and pianist Johann N. Hummel, and, naturally, I took the requisite photo in front of it.
Visit Bratislava in February. First, there are no crowds. Wily backpackers clog the streets of Vienna, Prague, and Budapest but overlook Bratislava. The old ex-pats have complained that the secret is out, which is why I don't feel too bad in sharing it, but surely, it will never be as bad as the silly hordes in Prague. I didn't see any evidence of tourist kitsch during my entire visit.
Also, the price is right. Bratislava is cheap, maybe even cheaper than Zagreb. A half-liter of beer costs much less than a half-liter of water. I stayed in a nice pension in the center of the old town and paid half as much for a room that was twice as big as the room I had in Zadar.
Still, my trip to Slovakia did have some sort of relevance to my work in Croatia. While I was there I met with representatives from a couple of ngos and had a very interesting discussion on Slovak politics. Slovakia and Croatia share a lot in fouled up political systems.
Both countries are devolved constituent republics from larger countries. While Slovakia became independent peacefully and without much fanfare, Croatia is a 'nation forged in war' as one journalist-historian said. And, both countries were initially governed by autocratic individuals with the assistance of their political parties, Tudjman and the HDZ in Croatia and Meciar and the HZDS in Slovakia. In 1998, Slovaks rid themselves of the HZDS, and, in 2000, a large coalition replaced the HDZ. However, Meciar still lurks around Slovak politics.
In recent years, both hard-line parties have changed their ways. Meciar is in favor of European integration and has changed his views of the role of Slovakia. The HDZ now distances itself from the wilder comments of the likes of Maya Freundlich.
Following the ejection of the HDZ and the HZDS, both countries were warmly embraced by Europe. It was easy for the Europeans to do, as the only real stumbling block to better foreign policy was the countries' non-democratic leadership. In spite of the great foreign policy successes, these countries have only inched forward in other sectors.
The continued advancement of the vaguely defined reform agenda is at a troubled crossroads in both countries. Slovakia will have elections in September, and the parties in the current coalition are not expected to do well. Croatia has been threatened with early elections, but the current threat seems to have subsided. One of the real questions will be the youth turnout—it is essential for both countries to see high youth voter turnout. The HZDS was ousted because the youth turned out at roughly a eighty-five percent rate. If it's less than fifty percent, dust off the old Meciar banners.
Slovakia possesses a large Hungarian population due to the changes wrought by the Treaty of Trianon. Croatia has a large population of Serbs. Minorities in both countries tend to look outward for direction and support, although the Hungarian party in Slovakia is part of the governing coalition. The Serb population is too low and too marginalized to be much of a force at the national level.