Dichotomies

The most common cliche about Istanbul must be the one on its many dichotomies. I would never pretend to know the city well, after being there only two times in a total of 10 days. But from a timid peek, one can already tell that it's a different place. Not in the "all places are different somehow" way, but in a "je ne sais quoi" way that is hard to explain. I might have been influenced by some readings, including the autobiographical piece by Orhan Pamuk, but it's not hard to realize that Istanbul doesn't easily fit in any category. The biggest cliche of them all: part-Europe, part-Asia, part-East, part-West. And the cliche stems not only from an abstraction but from the evident and unique geographical reality of the city, as one can swiftly pass from one continent to the other just by crossing the bridge on the Bosphorus.

As you walk down Istiklal Cadesi, with its 5-story buildings with ornate facades, you might have the feeling that you're in a European City. Still, it's not quite European. It is neither Asian or Middle Eastern as Damascus so evidently is. The avenues in the more affluent parts of the European side, like Beyoglu or Nisantasi, are not as orderly as in Vienna or Warsaw. Although they can be somewhat grandiose, sometimes there is also an ugliness - and the traffic jams - that is more reminiscent of Sao Paulo. Yet the overpowering energy of Sao Paulo is not there. It's easier to sense what Pamuk described as a feature of the city's people: their melancholy.

Like Buda and Pest on the Danube, the European and the Asiansides have their share of palaces built on the shores of the Bosphorus. Like Budapest, Istanbul has the magnificence of its past to show, but in the faded way of a great empire that ceased to be. Then there's the unmistakably Oriental flavor represented by the ever-present domes and minarets that dot Istanbul's skyline and make it unique in a way that no European city could be.

After talking to a few expats there, I learned Istanbul is one of these special, "love it" or "hate it" cities. This observation reminded me of Brasilia, a city that, like Istanbul, one cannot be indifferent to. Perhaps it would be more accurate to describe them as "love it and hate it". Yet, Istanbul is worlds apart from Brasília, not only for the richness of its history as for the apparently spontaneous urban development that one can't find in the planned and controled Brasília's layout.

Another dichotomy I could feel in Istanbul lay in the Turkish themselves. Eventhough they are very welcoming and friendly, they are quite reserved. Maybe traces of the melancholy Pamuk described?

All in all, its beauty and its ugliness living side by side, Istanbul is a magnetic, magnificent place to be.