Touching the Sounds of Mardin

In the history of mankind, there is no culture that exists without having some form of music. Making music, and singing or dancing to its rhythm, is such a basic human instinct that even deaf people can not abandon the urge. Music - as the Turks say- is food for your soul. But may be the reason for why we are so addicted to it is because of what it does to our mind. Oliver Sacks -my favorite neurologist- claims in his book Musicophilia that he has Parkinson's patients who are free of the disease symptoms  for the duration of the "mental music", i.e. the melody playing in your mind.

I am born in a culture where music is considered a necessity of life. Like many Turks, Kurds, Laz and Syriacs living on this land would agree, I can not imagine a day that passes without music. Inspired by a Turkish-Kurdish movie that I recently watched, Gelecek Uzun Sürer (Future Lasts Forever), I decided to collect as many sounds as possible during my trip to Eastern Turkey (street musicians, angry drivers, funny kids, a shepherd singing by himself, and so on). Equipped with my dear iPhone and with luck that "prefers the prepared mind", I spied on a collection of sounds that I am happy to share here.

The first song is from Hasankeyf; I was up at the ruins of the 14th century Ulu Mosque when I heard a neyzen (reed flute player) playing ney in one of the dark, dusty rooms of the mosque. I sat by the door where sunset lights were streaking through, and silently listened to him play this enchanting melody.

 

The neyzen later noticed Saliho and asked him to sing a local song for us. Saliho is a Kurdish kid of age 10 who followed me around in Hasankeyf and filled me up with tons of stories in a matter of two hours. With a courage bigger than himself, Saliho sang us a Turkish folk song named Haberin var mı yar yar? (Did you know my love?). The song goes like this: 

Saçlarından bir tel aldım, haberin var mı yar yar? Haberin var mı?
Gözden ırak dilden uzak, ben seni sevmişem eyvah! Haberin var mı yar yar? Haberin var mı?

I took a strand of your hair, did you know my love? Did you know?
Far from the eye away from the word, I loved you, alas! Did you know my love? Did you know?

Here, listen to this "shy" to-be-artist Kurdish kid sing in Turkish.

The last song is from a nameless shepherd from Dara who was singing cheerfully to himself, waking us up from our long walk in the ancient city. Singing louder than the roosters around him and sounding like a morning alarm, he offers no mental music for Parkinson's patients. But who cares, right? As you are only free when you are singing freely... 

 

Note: I prefer Saliho's version, but here is a "better" version of Haberin var mı yar yar?

Hıdrellez

Almost all cultures -one way or another- celebrate the revival of nature during months of spring. This may mean whale-racing in Alaska's Naluqatak festival or penis-hugging in Japan's Kanamara Matsuri. Though not to be confused with the political uprisings, coming of spring is celebrated in Middle Eastern and Mediterranean countries since the old ages. Originally a tradition of Roman gypsies, Hıdrellez (Ederlezi in Roman and Newroz in Kurdish) is a spring festival celebrated by Turks on May 6th; the day when the two brother prophets, Hıdır and İlyas, are believed to unite on earth.

"Hope Eren dies of love, but Damla never forgives him." (1)

As part of the tradition, on the eve of May 5th, people gather and dance around a large fire to celebrate the coming of this unification. It is believed that before he meets his brother at sunrise, Hıdır spends the night walking on earth to bring prosperity and fertility for the living (İlyas doing the same thing in water). As he travels around, he visits people's houses and collects their wishes for the year. It is very important that your house is clean on that day, otherwise he will regard it as a disrespect, and may choose not to favor any of your wishes for a whole year.

My tree of wishes

Hıdır allegedly loves roses; so men and women draw their wishes on a piece of paper, and bury it under a rose tree on the eve of his expected arrival. The wish will only come true though, if you make the effort to collect the buried paper and throw it in the sea (or river) at sunrise. Because apparently, the two brothers meet at sunrise where sea meets the land. Some draw their wishes with pebbles -again, under a rose tree- and wake up before dawn to muddle the stones; this is done so nobody but Hıdır knows what you wished for. Others write their wishes down on a paper, wrap the paper with a coin in red cloth, and then tie the wrap on a branch of a rose tree. The red wrap is then collected in the morning, and carried in a purse -unopened- until next Hıdrellez. 

Gypsies at Parkorman (2)

On May 6th, people gather in picnic areas and celebrate Hıdrellez by singing, dancing and feasting all day. The tradition has become very popular in  Ahırkapı, İstanbul where it is observed by Roman gypsies who live there. This year, to ensure security and avoid the crowds, the municipality allocated the celebration to other parts of the city including Parkorman. Still, streets of Ahırkapı was jammed with gypsy musicians from around the world, and with people dancing on top of each other. As for me, I spent Hıdrellez in Datça, Muğla, where my parents have a summer house. Luckily, we have three rose trees in our garden, each with dozens of roses on them that would make even Hıdır himself jealous. Well, I had to follow the tradition and put our rose trees to use. But not knowing which form of wish Hıdır would prefer, I followed mom's advice and went with both the pebbles and the red wrap. Myth or not, endowment had to be guaranteed.

Locals eat lots of meat at Hıdrellez picnic

The next day, Dad and I joined the traditional 17 km (~10 mi) Hıdrellez walk. It was our first participation, though the event is held by Datça Municipal every year for the last 13 years. The walk starts at the city center, which is on the bank of Mediterranean Sea, and ends on the other side of Datça peninsula that borders the Aegean Sea. As part of the tradition, two jugs (testi) are filled up with Mediterranean seawater, carried to the other side, and poured into the Aegean waters (by the Mayor himself!). The walk ends at a seaside picnic area, where hundreds of locals that live in the villages of Datça gather for the festivities. For me and Dad, the best part of the walk was the Roman gypsy band following us along the route; we didn't notice how long we walked thanks to the sounds of davul zurna (drum and horn). Here, watch my dad as he helps the level of Aegean Sea rise, accompanied by local gypsy musicians.

Note: Photographs (1) and (2) are courtesies of Koray Akten.

Sun Rises in the East, and So Will Christ: Part II

Courtyard of Deyrulzafaran Monastery

As the unexpected rain freshened the hot May air for us, İbrahim -the hot-looking clergyman and tour guide at Mor Gabriel monastery- told us that the Deyrulzafaran Monastery (deyr=monastery, zafaran=saffron) is the largest Syriac monastery in the region. It was home for Patriarchate of Antioch for over 600 years. The patriarchate has been in Damascus since 1932, but is still referred to as the Patriarchate of "Antioch" out of respect to the fact that the Syriac Christianity originated in Antioch (Antakya, Turkey). 

Syriac inscriptions on monastery walls

There are 15 million Syriac Christians living around the world, with only 4 million belonging to orthodox sect (there are seven sects). Syriac Christians in Turkey are orthodox, and they call themselves Süryani Kadim (the ancient Assyrians). While half the orthodox population lives in India, the remaining half are mostly in Sweden, Germany, and US. After Jeruselam, Mardin is the most sacred site for Syriac Orthodox Christians; but due to political tensions in the region, only about 2300 Syriac Orthodox now live in Mardin and 15 thousand reside in İstanbul. The latter figure is an exaggeration by İbrahim according to the historians I traveled with (i.e. everyone except me). But wiki agrees with İbrahim.

Sara with her mom and older sister

When we were at Anıtlı Church, I chatted with Maryam, wife of the guy who showed us around the church. There are only twenty or so families living near Anıtlı and Maryam is in charge of local Syriac kids for their after-school religious training. She speaks both Syriac and Turkish, though Syriac is the language she uses to summon her three-year old daughter Sara. I envied Sara's life as she grabbed the unripe green almonds -çağla-  from her mother's hand. Lambs and donkeys are Sara's pet animals, while the ruins of nearby Mor Sobo Cathedral her playground. She lives in an "antique" church, understands two languages (one being ancient), and feeds on fresh çağla for snack. 

She could be me. Or is she?

If it weren't for the typical iPhone email alert sound muffled in the pockets of scholars wandering around, there was nothing there to remind me -nor Sara- of the needs of selfish, spoiled urban life. I seriously thought whether I should get a job in New York and live in a stacked apartment all by myself, or teach at Anıtlı village primary school and ask İbrahim to marry me. 

Let Mor Gabriel be the judge of my faith. 

Note: For more pictures of Monasteries, click here.

Sun Rises in the East, and So Will Christ: Part I

The East: sheep, wheat, poppy and mountains

From dawn till dusk, the Mesopotamia valley of eastern Turkey offers scenes as if taken from ancient tales. Spring's red poppies and green wheat fields cover the valley and meet the snow-tipped mountains that remind you of the past winter. Stones of this region have the color of saffron; so when you see a mustard monastery springing up in the middle of this red-green valley, the view is just spectacular. You wish you live and die there, and do nothing but herd sheep.

Dorms of Mor Gabriel Monastery

We visited two monasteries and a church during my trip to Mardin: Deyrulzafaran Monastery, Mor Gabriel Monastery, and Anıtlı Church. These 5th century Syriac Orthodox churches are still active; they provide services for local Syriacs and train clergymen who reside in the temples' dorms. For reasons still unknown to me though, Mor Gabriel Monastery seemed to be the most mesmerizing among them. May be it was the nuns in the church; praying with their ceremony robes on, they looked so surreal in an eastern Turkey setting. Or may be, it was the spell of our guide İbrahim, a hot-looking clergyman who smiled timidly as he told us the story of ancient Syriacs. I really don't know... But whatever the reason, you would hold your breath too when you saw this monastery. It stood like a fortress over a contrasting view of wheat fields, olive trees, and vineyards. 

Golden illustrations on the altar wall

Mor Gabriel Monastery (Mor= Saint) was founded in 397 (A.D.) by two saints, Mor Simon and Mor Samuel, but it was named after Mor Gabriel because it had its golden times during his life. The main church was completed by the Byzantians in 512 and when finished, its ceiling was covered with golden illustrations of which none survived to our time. According to İbrahim, a golden and a silver grapevine hung from either side of the altar that allegedly represented the Sun and the Moon. I really think that Tolkien got the idea of Trees of Valinor -the Telperion (Silver Tree) and the Laurelin (Gold Tree)- from Mor Gabriel's monastery. And just like in Tolkien's tale of the Silmarillion where a jealous Melkor destroys the trees, a bloody Timurlane destroyed the two grapevines of Mor Gabriel in 1402. Luckily, some of the golden illustrations still exist in the walls of the altar, forcing your imagination as to how the arched ceiling looked like during 14th century. Here, listen to an afternoon prayer held in this fairy-tale monastery. 

Next: More about İbrahim and the monasteries...

Saliho

Syriac kids at Anıtlı Church

A few days ago, I was on a trip to eastern Turkey that included a visit to the ancient city of Hasankeyf. The trip was organized by fellows from Koç Universitesi Research Center for Anatolian Civilizations (RCAC), and consisted of art historians, scholars, and archeologists who knew everything from 5th century Syriac Monasteries to Byzantian cisterns to 12th century dynasty of Artuqids. I had a lucky ride as my dear friend Merih, who is also an RCAC fellow, sneaked my name on the list of people signing up for the trip. Having never been to eastern Turkey before, this excursion was an amazing eye-opening experience for me. I learned so much about the history of civilizations, religions, languages, and people that lived and died in this region. I will write more about some of these experiences, but today, I wanted to start with the children I met during this journey. 

Ancient Hasankeyf will be underwater soon

Mostly Kurdish or Syriac, these children had the ancient cities as their playground and knew everything about the political, social and cultural history of the surroundings. I learned from Nihat -age 9- that there are 12 mosques, 6 monasteries, and 4 churches in Midyat, Mardin. Ruji -age 8- told me that the water pipes of the cisterns at antique Dara were still functional. She also showed me how to take a picture of inside the pipes with my camera, so I could see where they lead to. Saliho -age 10- complained about how most of his family were forced to move to İstanbul; their house and the ancient Artuqid bridge will be underwater once the Ilıca Dam of Hasankeyf is completed in a few years. As a compensation for the lost homes, the government is building these TOKİ houses nearby, but Saliho hates them, as these are nothing like the stone house he lives in now. "They are ugly" he says, "and during the summer heat, the inside will not be as cool as it is now in our stone house". I tend to agree.  

Kurdish kids selling bead jewelery

Saliho is a Kurdish kid. Like all the other Kurdish and Syriac kids in the region, he learned Turkish at school. He is very fluent if you ask me, but he doesn't want to learn another language because he thinks he still has lot to learn in Turkish. He is full of stories; some from his own imagination like "a star fell on this mosque few years ago and destroyed it!", and some from his daily life like "my mom was bitten by a scorpion for 14 times, she is like a cat with nine lives!". Just like the other kids, he knows the region like the back of his hand: when the Artuqid bridge on Tigris was built, the ancient secret passages up the hill that goes down to the river, the protective snake figures on the gates, and the name of the Austrian smuggler who stole antique stones from Hasankeyf. The only thing he doesn't know is the names of his siblings. He has eight brothers and four sisters, but could only remember five names, with one being Kızgın Abi (Mad Brother).

Saliho taught me a few words in Kurdish. I was a little embarrassed as I didn't know how to say even the simplest expressions in Kurdish like "How are you, are you fine?" (Çoni wa beşi?) or "Thank you" (Sago be). Before the trip, as a "civilized", learned adult, I downloaded an iPhone app for Turkish-Kurdish dictionary, which served completely useless as the dialect spoken in that region was different than what I had in my genius phone. Kurdish is an Indo-European language, unlike Turkish that belongs to Altaic languages. The formation of sentences, its grammar and phonetics is very different, making it even harder for these kids to speak Turkish without sounding funny. 12% of the population in Turkey speaks Kurdish, but the right to publish and broadcast in their own language was given to them only recently in the '90s. Here is Saliho, singing happily in his own language, though he is a bit pious and was hesitant to sing inside the old ancient mosque. 

Local historians of antique Dara

I loved the kids of this region. Smart, funny and beautiful, they run around happily while earning their money either as tourist guides or selling bead jeweleries and flower tiaras to visitors. I asked Saliho what he wanted to be when he grew up. He said he wants to be a pilot. I really hope he achieves his dream and gets to see the oceans of which he only knows the names of. Sago be Saliho, and all the other kids, for their smiles and lovely stories...

Note: Please correct my Kurdish if I mispronounced the words.

How to Gain 10 Pounds in 4 Days

With this diet here, you will gain 10 pounds in 4 days, and with only 2 meals and a snack a day! Guaranteed to get you those love handles you long for!!!

Here is the deal. First, buy a ticket to İstanbul. Second, have a friend (or family) serve you breakfast. Don't worry if you have neither, as there are many places in Istanbul that will serve you a full Turkish breakfast. Third, make sure you drink tea after each meal or with every snack. Fourth and most important, eat lots and lots of bread. So, here we go...

Day 1:

Have lots of tea during breakfast

Have a full course Turkish breakfast: tomato and cucumber salad with olive oil, two kinds of peynir (cheese), olives, couple of simits (Turkish bagel), çay (black tea), tahin pekmez (tahini with grape molasses) and sucuklu yumurta (scrambled eggs with sausage).

For snack: Profiterol at İnci Pastanesi in Beyoğlu, Taksim. Ask for extra chocolate sauce.

Dinner: Lentil soup, pide (pita bread) and kıymalı mantı (dumplings with minced meat) at Fıccın in Beyoğlu, Taksim.

Day 2:

Full course Turkish breakfast: same as above, substitute sucuklu yumurta with crepes and add salami.

Dinner and snack: Have ezme salad, and two lahmacuns (Turkish pizza) at Çiya in Kadıköy. Order künefe for dessert along with tea.

Black sea region cuisine at Hayvore

Day 3: 

Full course Turkish breakfast: same as day 1, substitute sucuklu yumurta with börek (pastry with cheese). 

Snack: same as day 1.

Dinner: Have mıhlama (melted butter and cheese), corn bread and hamsi cooked in tomato sauce (anchovies) with rice pilaf at Hayvore in Beyoğlu, Taksim. 

Day 4: 

Midye tava: ask for extra tarator sauce

Full course Turkish breakfast: same as day 1, substitute simits with çatal (sold at any pastry shop or simit booths outside). 

Snack: Choice of artichoke quiche or Budapest dessert with tea at any Remzi Kitabevi coffee shop.

Dinner: Midye tava (fried mussels) with Efes beer at Mercan Büfe in Kadıköy.

Şerefe and afiyet olsun!

Notes:

Çiya Restaurant: Elif Batuman from the New Yorker has a delicious article on Çiya. The owner is also the editor and founder of a monthly magazine, Yemek ve Kültür (Food and Culture), that publishes articles on the history of food and cuisine, along with forgotten recipes of Asia Minor and the Ottomans.

Hayvore Restaurant: Meaning "I am here" in Laz language of Black Sea region in Turkey, this restaurant serves daily meals from that region. 

Fıccın Restaurant: Serving Circassian food, and with three of their restaurants on the same row, half of Kallavi Street in Beyoğlu is occupied by the tables of Fıccın.
Mercan Büfe: I don't know the history of this place, but they have been in the same location in Kadıköy Bazaar since my high school years. I probably tasted my first underage beer here. They are also famous with their kokoreç, goat intestines served in half-bread with peppers and tomatoes. Never tried and never will.

At İnci: Find a table before you pay!

İnci Pastanesi: Founded in 1944 by an Albanian named Licos Zigoridis, the shop has no other branch and is always packed with customers in line. No offense to French people but Mr. Zigoridis claims to be the inventor of profiterol (both the recipe and its name). Not a big fan of profiterol myself, I stop at İnci every time I am in Beyoğlu and pay a tribute to Mr. Zigoridis for his finger-licking invention.