9

Balat

B intro

 

Hoş geldiniz! Welcome to Istanbul. A sprawling metropolis of 13+ million and the only city in the world to have one Turkish slippered foot in Europe and the other in Asia.

As the song goes, Istanbul was Constantinople, now it’s Istanbul, not Constantinople. In actual fact, the history is way more complicated than that, with a zillion name changes just to keep things interesting. Definitely not something I can do justice to here. But in warp speed it goes something like this: began as Greek in 7th century BC (Byzantium), then Roman (Constantinople), then Ottoman in the 15th century (Istanbul) and finally became a Republic in 1923.

I’ve been to Istanbul twice before. But only as a typical tourist, visiting the usual suspects in the tourist precinct of Sultanahmet – Topkapi Palace, the Blue Mosque, Basilica Cistern and Haghia Sophia. They are all insanely good – and I don’t usually warm to the big stuff – but that’s really all I knew about the place.

What was Istanbul like beyond the postcard cliches I wondered? And so here we are.

The suburb I’ve chosen for week one is Balat, recommended to me by a 52 Suburbs follower who knows Istanbul intimately (thanks Angelo). Well, Balat and neighbouring Fener actually. It’s hard to know when you leave one and enter the other. And their tales are so similar; both populated by non-Muslims and filled with fine mansions once upon a time, but now poor-ish and run-down with many buildings close to ruin.

On the map they’re located on the European side, alongside the Golden Horn. While they’re actually not that far from scrubbed up Sultanahmet, they are rarely visited. My kind of place! Let’s go Balat and Fener…

 

Part 1: What happens when you wander without a map

So as I said, way back the area was largely non-Muslim – Greek, Armenian, Jewish. Hence the presence of churches and synagogues, including the big cheese of the Greek Orthodox Christians, the Greek Orthodox Patriarchate in Fener. While trying to find said church, Coco (yes, she’s back out ‘blogging’) and I got a little lost and stumbled across two beautiful mosques, the Sultan Selim Camii and the Fatih Camii.

Head spins all round really. Given this city’s history, I think it’s going to be hard to avoid amazing monuments even when trying to.

 

beret and domes

beret and domes

 

 

 

and then the sun came out

and then the sun came out

 

 

 

down the hill to the Golden Horn

down the hill to the Golden Horn

 

 

 

the call to food

the call to food

 

 

 

Realising, eventually, that we’d strayed out of Fener and Balat, we made our way down the hill, through a very conservative Muslim area. Most people refused my camera but luckily a few obliged…

 

protected by the Evil Eye

protected by the Evil Eye

 

 

 

flower power

flower power

 

 

 

eyes the colour of the Sea of Mamara

eyes the colour of the Sea of Mamara

 

 

 

Ali

Ali

 

 

 

mates

mates

 

 

 

Finally we found the Greek church. (Note to self: map. Getting lost is good but not when it’s two degrees and your young companion is hungry/thirsty/tired.)

 

the Greeks were here first

the Greeks were here first

 

 

 

the church and the mosque

the church and the mosque

 

 

 

On the way to the church we passed by a hill-top Greek school that was on my list – even I couldn’t miss it given its size and colour.

 

the Greek school at the top of the hill

the Greek school at the top of the hill

 

 

 

Part 2: A neighbourhood under threat

As impressive as the mosques, church and school were, I was more interested in finding some of the old mansions and homes I’d read about.

While we couldn’t find any ‘mansions’ as such, we did see endless examples of the typical Fener-Balat house – colourful with a bay window out front. While some of them have been well cared for, many are struggling to survive with a number of them close to ruin.

 

looking out her window

looking out her window

 

 

 

one abandoned, one just hanging on

one abandoned, one just hanging on

 

 

 

art imitates life :: 1

fantasy and reality :: 1

 

 

 

art imitates life :: 2

fantasy and reality :: 2

 

 

 

Close to the Greek church, we found a small shop selling ceramic models of the Fener-Balat houses, pre-dilapidation. I so wanted to quiz the woman inside about the history of the houses but we couldn’t communicate at all. The only thing I could understand was that the yellow model was a mini version of the house directly next door.

 

memories

a colourful past

 

 

 

well kept

well kept

 

 

 

some things never change

some things never change :: 1

 

 

 

some things never change :: 2

some things never change :: 2

 

 

 

curtains, out and in

curtains, out and in

 

 

 

On day two, I noticed a woman wearing flash gloves and a fur collared coat striding down a street in Balat. Selva, it turns out, is an architect who works in the area with her architect husband, Halim. Coco and I met them later at their office, a renovated stable, where I learned the reason why many of the houses in Fener particularly have been left to rot – around the 1950s many of the Greeks were expelled from the area, leaving their homes as they stood on the day. Unable to be sold to anyone else, they remain abandoned and unloved.

Halim and Selva explained that they are trying to revitalise some of the buildings but are constantly hampered by the ownership issues. But that there is hope – some of the homes are being restored and the area is gradually changing, with artists and small businesses moving in.

 

a couple of architects and the architect couple, Halim and Selva

a couple of architects and the architect couple, Halim and Selva

 

 

 

old and new :: 1

restoration and new life

 

 

 

old and new :: 2

old and new

 

 

 

One of the new arrivals we found was a shoe and design business run by three women, again close to the Greek church.

 

neighbours - the Greek Church and the trendy shoe shop

neighbours - the Greek church and the trendy shoe shop

 

 

 

sweet shoes

patterned

 

 

 

walking past the shoe shop on the way to the mosque

walking past the shoe shop on the way to the mosque

 

 

 

S is for circle

S is for circle

 

 

 

who will save Fener and Balat? the architects?

who will save Fener and Balat? the architects?

 

 

 

Part 3: Eat, drink

The staples of Turkish life – round simit bread, strong black tea and sweet treats – are all in abundance on the streets of Balat and Fener.

 

been around forever

been around forever

 

 

 

rising heavenwards

rising heavenwards

 

 

 

religions

religions

 

 

 

There wasn’t much in the way of old charm in the shops of Balat with one lovely exception. Merkez Sekercisi, a 134 year old sweet and cake shop right across the lane from the architects’ office. Halim translated my questions to the owner, Mustafa, who explained that he inherited the shop from his grandfather and has been working here ever since he was a young boy, some 50 odd years.

Forget the historic mosques, churches or charming houses – the lolly shop was the highlight for Coco.

 

Mustafa and the 134 year old sweet shop

Mustafa in front of Merkez Sekercisi

 

 

 

the grandfather and Mustafa

the grandfather and Mustafa

 

 

 

baked fresh today in the 134 year old sweet shop

baked fresh today in the 134 year old sweet shop

 

 

 

just one more Turkish Delight please!

just one more Turkish Delight please!

 

 

 

Aside from Mustafa’s sweet shop, there were a handful of coffee houses or kahvehane, all of them the domain of men.

 

 

 

out for coffee

out for coffee

 

 

 

secret men's business at the local kahvehane

secret men's business at the local kahvehane

 

 

 

And of course fish. Lots of fish.

 

 

 

silvery fish from the Golden Horn

silvery fish from the Golden Horn

 

 

 

Part 4: Walls and windows

Random beauty in the walls, windows and doors of Balat and Fener.

 

local colour

local colour

 

 

 

window decorations

window decorations

 

 

 

green and blue, colours of the sea

green and blue, colours of the sea

 

 

 

long bread loaves

long bread loaves

 

 

 

ancient Turks worshipped the moon and sky

ancient Turks worshipped the moon and sky

 

 

 

The Wrap

If you squint hard you can imagine what Fener and Balat might have looked and felt like in their heyday. But despite the dilapidation, there’s still so much beauty in the area – the steep hills with colourful houses climbing up them, the impressive churches and mosques, and those ingenious washing lines that stretch across the streets. Quite what happens if you fall out with your neighbour I’ll never know – but I’d sure like to find out.

 

 

may the future be bright

may the future be happy

 

 

 

On the ‘home front’

 

rain rain go away

rain rain go away

 

 

 

Coco sees snow for the first time

Coco sees snow for the first time

 

As you may have noticed this post is a few days late. Why? Rain and snow. Or was it sleet? Not sure but whatever it was, it melted as soon as you looked at it and far from being picturesque just made getting around slippery and annoying. Grumble, grumble. Still, Coco had her first viewing of the white stuff and it was kind of novel.

Other news on the home front? We’re happily parked in a cosy little apartment I’ve rented for the month through Airbnb and I’m back on deck, big time. Mum, cook, cleaner, photographer, blogger and whoa, home schooler. Not sure if I’m cut out for that last one. Actually, no, that’s a lie. I’m positively, absolutely sure I’m not cut out for it. Given the weather challenges, the moment I see sunlight break through the grey I want to be out, snapping – not in, trying to explain equivalent fractions, snapping.

But there it is. It was my choice to take my child out of a perfectly good school so I could explore the globe. I’ve given myself a good talking to and hopefully from now on my attitude will improve. Depending on how things go I may even give myself a gold star.

This suburb was brought to you by Adelaide Perry Gallery, Presbyterian Ladies’ College, Sydney

See you next week, and if the rain and ‘snow’ hold off, on time.

 

8

Tilak Nagar

TN intro

 

Week four in Delhi and the lucky last in India. (Yes, I was contemplating extending our stay on the subcontinent, maybe swinging over to Calcutta for a quick look see, but in the end I decided to stick to the original timings and press on westwards to Istanbul tomorrow.)

Having touched briefly on Islam, Hinduism and the Jains over the last three weeks, I wanted to spend our final week here taking a look at the third largest religion in India, Sikhism.

So I nipped over to the biggest Sikh temple in Delhi before heading west to the largely Sikh neighbourhood of Tilak Nagar, some 17 km from the city centre.

While 17km isn’t very far, west Delhi felt quite different to the south where our last three neighbourhoods have been. It’s as dirty and dusty, probably more so, but there’s just something I liked better. Perhaps it’s the Sikhs themselves, infusing the place with their noble principles of equality amongst all humans, no matter what caste, creed or gender.

Let’s go Tilak Nagar!

 

Part 1: The big Sikh temple

Although I usually shy away from anything remotely big or touristy, I made an exception with Bangla Sahib Gurudwara, Delhi’s largest Sikh temple, located slam bam in the city centre. As I was pretty clueless about Sikhism I thought I might meet some Sikhs there and get a heads up before hitting the suburbs. The place is impressive but I went on a Sunday when it was so crowded with devotees and tourists that I didn’t dally.

Before I left, however, I met a bride-to-be performing a pre-wedding ritual with her family, and had a quick glance at the Sikh langar or ‘free kitchen’ that feeds up to 10,000 people a day no matter what their caste or creed – because Sikhism is all about inclusiveness, sharing and community.

 

finery

finery

 

 

 

Sunday best

Sunday best

 

 

 

the blushing bride to be

the blushing bride to be

 

 

 

super-size me :: 1

super-size me :: 1

 

 

 

super-size me :: 2

super-size me :: 2

 

 

 

super-size me :: 3

super-size me :: 3

 

 

 

Part 2: The little Sikh temple

After my flying visit to Delhi’s largest gurudwara, I headed west to possibly Delhi’s smallest, in Tilak Nagar. As usual, I found the local, untouristy alternative so much more satisfying.

As soon as I entered the gurudwara I was ushered upstairs by a gaggle of kids to meet the families who live on the premises. There wasn’t a lot of chit chat until I met the charming and cheeky Navneet Singh, a 14 year old Sikh nicknamed Paras who speaks perfect English. He lives outside the temple but was there with his sister and cousins for their regular music lesson. Luckily for me he was early and I was able to quiz him about all things Sikh.

Thanks to Paras I left the little gurudwara not long after feeling slightly less clueless than I had when I’d wandered in.

 

residents of the gurudwara :: 1

residents of the gurudwara :: 1

 

 

 

residents of the gurudwara :: 2

residents of the gurudwara :: 2

 

 

 

his turban was the colour of Jalebi

his turban was the colour of Jalebi

 

 

 

Navneet Singh, 'Paras'

Navneet Singh, 'Paras'

 

 

 

free spirits

free spirits

 

 

 

Prabhjot Kaur, friend of Paras

Prabhjot Kaur, friend of Paras

 

 

 

waiting for their music teacher

waiting for their music teacher

 

 

 

2 of the 5 K's - the Kara bracelet and Kirpan sword

2 of the 5 K's - the Kara bracelet and Kirpan sword

 

 

 

filling the gurudwara with their music

filling the gurudwara with their music

 

 

 

Part 3: Tying the knot, Sikh style

The second thing that made my visit to Tilak Nagar so unexpectedly enjoyable was also completely unplanned. For the past few weeks I’ve been wanting to stumble on a wedding. I’d almost given up hope of serendipity providing me with one when on visit number two to Tilak Nagar, I noticed jasmine in the hair of a woman as she walked quickly past my taxi. Now, jasmine in your locks can only mean one thing in India – a wedding. So I leapt out the taxi, ran up to the woman and with all the grace of an excited five year old stammered, “Wedding?!”

Yes, wedding. And what was more, I was in time to join the procession to the gurudwara which entailed a horse-drawn carriage and the wedding party dancing in the streets. Far from being viewed as a nosey outsider, I was welcomed like an honoured guest. In fact, for the first time in my life I think I was auspicious; as soon as I joined in the dancing, everyone clapped madly and money was waved over my head, in exactly the same way as the Jains had done two weeks earlier. Either that or they thought it was hilarious to watch the white chick trying to emulate their hip shaking dance routine. It was all caught on video by not one but two videographers. The things you do.

 

must be a wedding

must be a wedding

 

 

 

smiling band

smiling band

 

 

 

east and west-ish

east and west-ish

 

 

 

Before the procession started, we all had to wait around a fair while. Which is kind of tedious when you’re just a tot. Even when your twin is right beside you. And especially when you have to wear beads in front of your face as part of some century old tradition. Bor-ing.

 

double despair :: 1

double despair :: 1

 

 

 

double despair :: 2

double despair :: 2

 

 

 

double despair :: 3

double despair :: 3

 

 

 

c'mon kids, at least you're not at the dentist

c'mon kids, at least you're not at the dentist

 

 

 

the wait over, they make their way to the gurudwara

the wait over, they make their way to the gurudwara

 

 

 

dancin' in the streets

dancin' in the streets

 

 

 

and then the world exploded

and then the world exploded

 

 

 

Eventually the procession ended up at the gurudwara and after a few rituals – garlands of flowers being donned, prayers sung – the bride suddenly appeared and made her way over to the waiting groom. The groom unveiled the bride’s chooda or wedding bangles and then rid himself of his own veil, before they all filed inside the gurudwara; I stuck my head in briefly to see everyone sitting around while various songs were sung and rituals performed. I felt I’d intruded long enough and it was time to go.

 

the bride appears

the bride appears

 

 

 

approaching the groom

approaching the groom

 

 

 

unwrapping her 'chooda', wedding bangles

unwrapping her 'chooda', wedding bangles

 

 

 

a wedding where the man wears the veil and she wears everything else

a wedding where the man wears the veil and she wears everything else

 

 

 

the bridesmaid and the flower boy, maybe

the bridesmaid and the flower boy, maybe

 

 

 

all the best for a long, happy marriage my children

all the best for a long, happy marriage my children

 

 

 

Part 4: And just for good measure, a Hindu temple

In the Sikh spirit of inclusiveness, and seeing as it was the birthday of Hindu god Shiva this week, I made a brief visit to a couple of local Hindu temples in the area.

 

look Shiva, she's getting married on your birthday

look Shiva, she's getting married on your birthday

 

 

 

Hindu temple of Santoshi Maa, Mother of Satisfaction

Hindu temple of Santoshi Maa, Mother of Satisfaction

 

 

 

Santoshi Maa temple and devotee

Santoshi Maa temple and devotee

 

 

 

Hindu and Sikh, living in harmony

Hindu and Sikh, living in harmony

 

 

 

Part 5: On the road

One of the things you first notice when you arrive in Delhi is how many taxis are driven by the turbaned Sikh. And seeing also as I have spent so much time sitting in taxis over the last month, in traffic or just getting from A to B, I thought it apt that we end with images from the road.

 

Mr Amar Singh, taxi-driver for 40 years

Mr Amar Singh, taxi-driver for 40 years

 

 

 

mobile gurudwara - reading prayers in his cab

mobile gurudwara - reading prayers in his cab

 

 

 

white as a Hindustan Ambassador :: 1

white as a Hindustan Ambassador :: 1

 

 

 

white as a Hindustan Ambassador :: 2

white as a Hindustan Ambassador :: 2

 

 

 

white as a Hindustan Ambassador :: 3

white as a Hindustan Ambassador :: 3

 

 

 

through the car window - the eunuch and the armless man

through the car window - the eunuch and the armless man

 

 

 

through the car window - the flower seller

through the car window - the flower seller

 

 

 

through the car window - the window cleaner

through the car window - the window cleaner

 

 

 

The Wrap

Tilak Nagar ain’t no oil painting. But I really enjoyed it, thanks largely to Paras at the gurudwara and the Sikh wedding party. My visit to India would’ve felt incomplete without a wedding; I bow low before my god, Serendipity, and give humble thanks.

 

Thanks India, it's been wonderful and terrible, uplifting and depressing, joyful and sad

Thanks India, it's been wonderful and terrible, uplifting and depressing, joyful and sad

 

 

On the ‘home front’

Coco and I would also like to say a huge thanks to everyone in the house here for the various ways in which they’ve all helped over the last month. To Ronnie, Suzy, Wayne, Jed and Jennifer, dhanyavād!

I know he’ll never read this but thanks also to Sebastian, for fighting the traffic chaos to deliver me safely to whatever destination madam required.

I am looking forward to getting on that plane tomorrow – but there are things I’m going to miss. The colours of course. But other less obvious things, like being asked what my ‘good name’ is. And seeing joy go dancing down the streets, in the form of a Jain celebration or a Sikh wedding. And the street kids, who don’t know they could justifiably complain to the high heavens about their circumstances but instead just get on with it, playing under the overpasses and laughing their way through the dust and dirt.

This suburb has been brought to you by Simeon and Sarah

See you next week. In Istanbul…

 

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