Ancient times and current concerns
URFA—This is a city in Southeast Turkey, in the region between the Tigris and Euphrates rivers, a geographical note that should give a hint to the city’s biblical roots and the ancient sites that hark back to the beginnings of human civilization.
But the drive into Urfa from the new airport is over a gleaming wide highway, and the visitor’s introduction to it is a sprawl of new developments—condominiums that range from sparkling high-end complexes to drab-looking quarters that, says our guide, are being built to accommodate a deluge of refugees from Syria. A few kilometers near the Syrian border, he says, can be found a refugee camp with tens of thousands of occupants. The new arrivals are reported to be stirring some unrest among the locals, as the refugees are taking low-paying menial jobs in farms and plantations, driving down the cost of labor.
It’s an old and familiar story, one that has played out in other countries and circumstances, but it’s also a story that is marking a footnote in current events, and it’s unnerving to think we have arrived in a spot that lies just a day’s drive from one of the world’s hottest hotspots.
Still, it’s ancient history that occupies our attention on the day we arrive in Urfa, officially known as Sanliurfa. On the outskirts of the city—a mix of the ancient quarters and bazaars with narrow winding streets along with a newer “downtown”—can be found ancient ruins that seem to rise directly from the earth. In this summer heat, the surroundings are uniformly beige, dotted in spots by strange, cone-shaped structures that made up the homes of early settlers. One of our group observes that it reminds her of “Tatooine,” the desert planet where Luke Skywalker of “Star Wars” grew up.
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WE ARE in Harran, an ancient city that is today a desolate strip of villages that surround archeological sites. Within view are the ruins of one of the oldest universities in the world. A nearby tower was once believed to be a minaret of a mosque, but further digging has revealed it to be an astronomical structure, used to study the stars and planets.
The cone-shaped structures were homes, the rooms connected through a system of narrow doorways. The ceilings slope up to a hole at the very top, making each room a chimney, in effect. On winter nights, we’re told, a fire would be built in the center of the circular room, and men (and women in a separate room) would mass around it, lying down on carpets and downing tea and dark, bitter coffee.
In the early evening, we are brought to Harran’s ancient district, past ancient homes, one of which has been converted into the Cevahir Guesthouse and Restaurant. We are led to a dining area, a narrow room where a “band” sits waiting. The singer Ishak Demir’le leads the group of musicians playing what are described as “Ottoman” instruments—huge drums, a flute, a mandolin (electrified), a horn—that quickly transport us to another time and place.
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IT IS over lunch in Urfa where we had our most memorable and delicious meal.
Throughout this trip, we have been struck by how tasty and indeed healthy-looking are the fruits and vegetables served us. Urfa, it turns out, is well-known for its peppers, which can be aggressively hot, and its eggplants, which are fat and sweet, especially when roasted.
At the Dedecan, our lunch is kebab served not on skewers but arrayed on a metal tray, along with roasted tomatoes, eggplants, peppers and leaves of basil, mint and tarragon. By this time we are all but “kebab-ed out.” But we take one bite of the morsels of chicken, beef and liver sausages (the restaurant’s specialty) and we are once more transported to culinary bliss.
Over dinner at Cevahir, aside from even more kebab, we are treated to the “sillik,” a crepe filled with coarse walnuts and pistachios and bathed in a honey syrup. We are offered more cups of the “mirra,” the dark, bitter coffee concoction, but we settle for tea, which varies in aroma, color and flavor in each place we visit.
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IT HAS been as much a culinary as an historical and touristic journey. Among our memorable meals in Istanbul:
Near the Chora Museum, a church that was converted into a mosque and then a museum in 1945, we find the Lacivert Restaurant, whose cool, elegant interiors offer blessed relief from the late-afternoon heat. Lured by a blurb from the New York Times, I order the “stuffed melon,” and find the minced meat, raisin and spice mixture contrasting pleasantly with the sweet melon.
The evening before we leave for Urfa, we go on a dinner “cruise,” aboard a floating restaurant complex on the Bosphorus. We happen to arrive together with a wedding party, and no matter how disheveled we feel in our tourist clothes, we take great enjoyment observing the fashionable guests in their backless gowns and black tie. It’s but a brief ferry ride to the complex, but it’s enough to make us wonder why we can’t do the same on Manila Bay, although perhaps it would be asking too much of the Pasig River.
The wind whips the water on the channel, but our restaurant remains stable, though the chill forces us to put on our shawls. We take our time lingering over our coffee and tea. Ships decorated with bright, twinkling ropes of lights pass by, and buildings on the nearby shore are lit up dramatically.
The ritzy surroundings are proof of Turkey’s wealth, but we have also seen signs of poverty. There is, however, scant evidence of beggars or homeless people, but then maybe that’s because this is a guided trip, though I must say I like what I have been seeing so far.
