Confused in Istanbul. But maybe that‘s exactly as it should be.

Jul 10

Istanbul is a city that has captured imagination and provoked desire for thousands of years. Even now, I want to write that Istanbul is the "product of" three major civilizational takeovers. But to say this implies that Istanbul has an identity that can even be pinned down. It's true, I‘m not from here. I have not seen every sight, nor have I been able to understand Istanbul through food, although I like the idea of that. What I can tell you, however, is that Istanbul has provoked in me a profound sense of confusion. If you ask me to describe Istanbul after my short experience here, focusing just on what I've sensed at the most basic level, I couldn't do it. I'd likely leave you as confused as I am.

“As a city Istanbul…is a cosmopolis that defies categorisation.”
Bettany Hughes – Istanbul: A Tale of Three Cities

You see, everything you think you know about Istanbul is probably right, and also wrong, depending on where you are and whom you speak to. But that contradiction might just be what makes this place so compelling. The difference between the confusion I feel here and confusion elsewhere is that here, I’m at peace with it. I’ve come to expect that each day will be what it will be, and I'll probably not understand it when I go to bed that night. But in the moments, if I don’t think about it, then it all makes perfect sense.

Carolin Würfel describes this sense of confusion well in The Guardian. “Istanbul thrives on paradox. It is the only city in the world straddling two continents, constantly navigating the friction between east and west, tradition and modernity, faith and scepticism. Histories collide here every day,” Würfel writes.

So why do we need to “understand” a place at all. There's no shortage of articles claiming to reveal the "real Istanbul." It seems that Istanbul doesn't just thrive on its own paradox, but it's capable of inspiring personal paradox in its visitors. It holds a mirror up to our human need for clear definition in all its silliness. If we're willing to surrender to the idea, Istanbul might just be unknowable.

“Istanbul also encourages something which, physiologically, our minds seek – disruption. [T]his place reminds us why we are compelled to connect, to communicate, to exchange. But also to change.”
Bettany Hughes – Istanbul: A Tale of Three Cities

Crossing the Bosphorus each day reminds me of how important these waters are for Istanbul. But even the waterway is a symbol of confusion. Fishermen have thirty different names for the winds that can be encountered on the water. Unsurprisingly, a bit of research tells me that the strait is particularly difficult to navigate, with fast currents running through the Bosphorus—a natural waterway that was fortified by the Ottoman Empire—and the Black Sea undersea riverbed adds more chaos to the mix. Just like Istanbul itself, there is no one direction that this water runs, no fixed identity or purpose for it.

For many, the Bosphorus is deeply personal, as Nobel Laureate and local Orhan Pamuk describes:

“The Bosphorus holds [a place in Istanbul's] collective heart…as the font of our good health, the cure of our ills, the infinite source of goodness and goodwill that sustains the city and all those who dwell in it…Life can't be all that bad…Whatever happens, I can always take a walk along the Bosphorus.”
Orhan Pamuk - Istanbul Memories and the City (2006)

But the paradox continues. The strait is also deeply political. Controlling the strait is a matter of great power, involving great powers. Since the Montreaux Convention of 1936, Türkiye has the right to control access to the strait during times of war, closing it most recently to warships after the Russian invasion of Ukraine. Istanbul‘s collective heart is itself undefinable. Both nurturing and destructive. Personal and political.

In terms of spirituality, Istanbul is a city with many stories to tell. From goddess worship to Christianity to Islam, the city has fostered diverse and eclectic connections to the divine throughout its history. When known as Byzantium, it was believed that the goddess Hecate illuminated the night sky, saving the city by revealing Philip II of Macedonia's approaching siege. Today, the Adhan—the Islamic call to prayer—resonates in Arabic five times daily from megaphones mounted on minarets throughout the city.

After 10pm in the historic building where I sit writing this, the walls vibrate with the sound of the final Adhan for the night. It will be five and a half hours until tomorrow's first prayer. The sheer volume commands attention, making it impossible to focus on anything else. If you‘d told me about this before arriving, I would‘ve been indifferent at best or possibly annoyed by the prospect of this interruption. But instead I find something profoundly moving about this ritual. For me, it‘s a timekeeper; prompting deliberate self reflection that doesn‘t spiral into rumination. With each call to prayer, I find myself contemplating: What have I accomplished since the last Adhan? How will I use my time before the next one?

“Istanbul is not where East meets West, but where East and West look hard and longingly at one another, sometimes nettled by what they see yet interested to learn that they share dreams, stories and blood.”
Bettany Hughes – Istanbul: A Tale of Three Cities

I discovered Bettany Hughes' brilliant book while trying to make sense of my experience here and what I‘ve found in it isn‘t the clarity I was looking for, but comfort. It’s not just me; Istanbul has confused and delighted for millennia. The problem is in trying to “make sense” of things to begin with. Perhaps understanding cities, and ourselves, is inherently futile. Maybe Istanbul is setting an example for all of us to think less and simply be more.

Alternatively, my confusion might just be a mental breakdown, and I’m at peace with that. I mean, what a magnificent place for it!