ayla, my half-finnish half-turkish reporter friend is writing a travel guide on istanbul. imagine that. having writer friends is a bonus in anyone's life. a different perspective. a valuable exchange of observations. she was going to eyup. i invited myself.
we decided to go to eyup by ferry. one gets to see much from the water- canoe rentals at balat, rahmi koc museum at haskoy with the submarine at the dock, the bulgarian patriarch church which was pre- fabricated and pieces brought and put together in istanbul, a mass of blue steel, remnants of the old galata bridge dumped and now a venue for arts and crafts fairs...as we approached eyup an entire hill of grey and green- the reknowned eyup cemetery, home for many, with a cobbled stone pathway leading up to pierre loti cafe.
it's strange and freaky to say this but i have visited an awful lot of cemeteries in different regions. and each is very different from the other. the cemetery in london had marble gravestones with sculptures in the shape of pillows and faces. the jewish cemetery in vienna in the backyard of a retirement home was both sad and sarcastic at the same time. graves in edremit were simply forgotten. graveyards in gallipoli were majestic and humbling. and now eyup...up on a hill graves facing the golden horn. a cobblestone path with a surprising number of people had a quality of a scene in venice- people outside a cafe, chairs all facing the water. it felt comfortable. there were gravestones with long epitaphs and ones that just said rest in peace; some had rose bushes, some had weeds, others had been fenced in; some had arrows pointing in the direction of a family grave. there were people posing in front of graves. there were ottoman graves with arabic epitaphs. there were lovers walking hand in hand after having had a cup of apple tea up in the cafe.
interesting place for pierre loti to hang out. with a menu of tea, coffee and ayvalik tost the cafe had no seating available. ayla and i sat up near the souvenir shop. of course i bought postcards with pierre loti looking like lawrence of arabia. after our replenishment break we came down the hill on the teleferik that brought us just yards away from the eyup mosque. i felt pretty good amidst the graves but just outside the mosque i felt really claustrophobic. it was obvious how important this place was with women praying outside near the graves of godly men and boys going for circumcision coming to pray for the safety of their ---. the inside of the mosque was well lit as in not overlit. just not enough ventilation.
i was tired by then. ayla and i decided to slowly head back. we walked through a bazaar selling knick knacks. we came across more ancient graves with cats sitting on them. they were up high watching people go by. eyup has a flavour of old, of the forgotten, and the desire to preserve all that. istanbul continues to woo my curiosty.
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