The View from Above the World: Mardin

When I first set eyes upon the city of Mardin, some thirty years ago, I thought I had entered a place of enchantment, peace and tranquility, mystery, and dreams, perched on the side of a mountain, on the edge of the world.  As you first catch a glimpse of the city from afar, you think it is deserted, but upon entering it's hub, you are captivated, and the sites around you engulf and mesmerize, and you know you have found a place that will forever remain with you, visually and, somewhat, spiritually.

The entire city is an open-air museum, and exploring the narrow streets and alleys transports you back centuries through civilizations of Sumerians, Babylonians, Assyrians, Persians, through Byzantines and Ottomans, and then up to the present day.  What else would you expect from a place situated between the Tigris and Euphrates Rivers? It is a city capped by a castle, built upon down through the centuries - a city where many civilizations meet, and leave the most precious of their artifacts, traditions, and stories behind.

Scattered throughout the city and plain, ancient mosques and monasteries sit side by side.  The Deryrulzafaran monastery was the World Syriac Patriarchate between 1116 and 1932, and there are madrasas dating back to the 12th century.  Dialog and respect between religions has been handed down here for centuries, contributing to the calm and surreal atmosphere of this city.

The bedestens and bazaars, famous for their soaps and filigree, are pure joy, with sights, sounds, and aromas that pull you in and invite you to linger and savor every moment.  And, have I mentioned the famous Mardin coffee?  On a recent visit I enjoyed a break on the terrace of a monastery café, savoring every moment, surrounded by the beauty of the hills, architectural treasures, and pure peace and tranquility.

Mardin is located off the beaten path, but this only contributes to it's charm, ambience, and mystique.  And I treasure every visit, and dream of the next, and of sharing this amazing place with friends and family and fellow travelers searching for an historical and cultural experience.

Two Dogs and a Cat: Natural Resources of Turkey?

Early Spring 1986 my mother chose to visit us in Turkey.  Well, no one should visit this fabulous country and miss out on a trip to Cappadocia (though many do!).  Knowing the weather would be forbidding this time of year, we decided to brave the elements and go anyway.  We checked into a wonderful cave hotel in Urgup, in the snow, and settled in with my mother in one room with our twin 5 year old daughters, and my husband and I in another. 

Snow is always beautiful, but when you combine it with the spectacular landscape of Cappadocia, it's absolutely mesmorizing and thrilling!  My children do what all children want to do in the snow, venture outside and play.  And this was our introduction to, the Anatolian Shepherd, or, as it is called by the Turks, the Kangal dog.  First of all, they are huge!  As soon as our daughters stepped outside their room, they were greeted by a mother and her two pups.  This was, what, 28 years ago?  Yet I remember as though it just happened.  The mother walked over to one of my daughters and licked her on the face.  I remember the dogs tongue, which practically covered my child's entire face.  And thus began a long history of, and love for, this amazing breed of dog.

Fast forward 20 years.  My daughter, the one who had her face licked, is now married to a man who insisted on a German Shepherd as a pet.  True to her roots of having grown up in Turkey, my daughter insisted on an Anatolian Shepherd.  A what?  An internet search began for a breeder.  But not just any breeder.  It had to be a breeder of Anatolians that looked just like the ones our daughter remembered from her years in Turkey; one with the distinct markings of sandy and white colored coat, with black nose and black ears.  There are several breeders throughout the US, but none that my daughter found quite met her level of expectation.  By the way, the Kangal is considered a natural resource of Turkey and they are no longer allowed to be taken out of the country.

And then it happened!  She found a breeder, not clear across the country, or out west as she expected, but just a little over an hour down the road south of us in Attala, Alabama.  I was invited to go with them to make their selection (They would not tell me what the puppy cost.), and we returned with a beautiful Anatolian Shepherd puppy, with all the right markings, and with a Turkish name, Konya, which I got to choose. 

Anatolian Shepherds are raised to take care of flocks of sheep.  They are found throughout the Anatolian Plain in Turkey, usually alongside a flock.  They wear spiked collars for the purpose of protecting their necks from wolves.  Throughout Turkey and other parts of Central Asia, they are also trained to babysit.  They are exceptionally intelligent dogs and somewhat.........emotional.

May I share a few stories about the Kangal, learned from my Turkish friends?  For example,  they can tell the difference in a person who is good, and one who is evil.  They will alert their owner when a somewhat "shady" person enters the room.  They will track a wolf for days that has threatened their flock of sheep, kill the wolf, and then return to the flock. They have superior sight and hearing, and are very strong and rugged, bred for the harsh climate of parts of eastern Turkey, and very well adapted to a nomadic lifestyle.  Their life span is unusual for a large breed of dog - 12-16 years.  They are superb animals!  And when I return to Turkey every year, I always enjoy riding through the countryside of the east, and seeing these magnificent animals tending their flocks.

 



The Tarsus dog has a snout like a pig.  I do not know much about this breed, but from the time they are a puppy, they are raised for hunting and are exceptionally good at it.  Honestly, the first time I saw this animal, the nose was the feature I noticed before what was connected to it, and I was so caught off guard I thought it was a pig!  I do not think the dog is very prevalent, or perhaps they are safely guarded by their owners.  For ten years I lived just 40 minutes from Tarsus, and I do not remember ever seeing this dog until a return trip 3 years ago. 

 

Ok, on to the cat lovers.  The Van cat is also considered to be a natural resource of Turkey.  They originate in the far eastern part of the country, around the Lake Van area.  They are quite beautiful and have one blue eye and one brown or green eye.  Van cats are pure white with a tabby colored tail.  Like the Kangal, they are no longer allowed out of the country. 

Obviously I spent more time on the Anatolian Shepherd than the Tarsus dog and Van cat.  There are two reasons.  First of all, I know more about the Anatolian than the other two breeds.  And, second, I have an Anatolian for a granddog, and you know how we grandparents can be!

High Tea at the Pera Palas in Istanbul

Afternoon Tea at the Historic Pera Palas

Savvy, seasoned travelers can argue the best places in the world for High Tea.  In London,  the wonderful establishments, many historical, that offer this 17th century delight are too numerous to list, and there's always the fabulous Victoria Room in Sydney, Australia.  Some may even argue that if you want true tradition, you must experience high tea in one of the former British colonies.  But as for me, I'll take Istanbul and the mysterious Pera Palas any day, or week, or year.  Actually, I do take it, at least once a year.

    You see, High Tea is not just about the scones, sweets, savories, and Earl Gray.  It is about experience, ambience, anachronism, romance, and mystery.  Why just sit for tea and then leave, when you can wander a bit, step back in time, have all your senses stimulated, and dream awhile? I left my colleagues sitting with Earl and wonderful piano music, wandered from the Pera's opulent Kubeli Salon, to the hundred plus year old wooden elevator.

    As it carried me slowly to the fourth floor, I was transported to the 1920s, 30s, and 40s, and imagined the famous and often times notorious who had been here before me......and are still here.  The atmosphere is thick, replete with whispers, secret negotiations, deceptions, and decisions that perhaps changed the course of history.   Had Mata Hari ridden this same elevator on her way to a clandestine meeting with a German liaison?  And on one of the floors below had Cicero, the famous spy, handed over invaluable information that turned the tide of Nazi warfare?  Did this same elevator carry Leon Trotsky to secret sessions with other compatriots of the Russian Revolutionary intelligentsia?

    I was shaken from my dream as the attendant stepped out of the elevator, held the door open, and motioned me to follow.  He led me down a red carpeted corridor, turned right down another, and stopped in front of a rather undistinguished door, that he unlocked and opened.  My eyes were immediately drawn to the writing table, sitting there just as she left it.  Years before, Agatha Christie had sat there and written, Murder on the Orient Express.   The Pera Palas was built in 1892 for the clientele of that magnificent railway, with the idea in mind that it must equal in grandeur the Orient Express.  Passengers were dropped off at the train station in the old city and swiftly carried across the Golden Horn in curtained horse drawn carriages right up to the door of the Pera Palas.  Why all the secrecy?  The hotel, just like Istanbul, has an air of mystery and intrigue, of undiscovered secrets, and of history held in place as the ghosts of past players whisk about.  It can be a bit unsettling.

   Closing the door to her room, I walked back towards the lift, preferring this time to take the stairs.  This, too, should be done slowly. The mirrored brass balustrade leads you down wide scarlet carpeted marble steps.  The period furniture on each landing is exquisite, as it is throughout the entire hotel.  The polished woodwork and molding is from bygone days when carpenters took particular care with their craft.  The Pera Palas takes you back through 120 years of history, to Old Constantinople, on a flying carpet.  The ambience is unbelievable as your mind wanders and your senses intensify.  With every step you take the creaking wooden floors remind you that much has gone on here before you.

    Getting back to Afternoon Tea could wait a little longer. On the first and second floors, I wandered past rooms with brass plates on the doors, signifying the famous, the infamous, and the enigmas who had slept in the beds behind. Back at the Kubeli Salon, I peeked in on my friends, so wrapped up in the music and their surroundings, that they hadn't even noticed I'd left.  Entering the historic bar with cushioned chairs arranged in a fashion to encourage one to linger, my mind began to wander again.  Had Ernest Hemingway sat here contemplating the "lost generation" he so vividly captured in his novels?  My eyes swept the bar with it's highly polished brass and wood and antique mirror.  Only then did Hemingway come into focus.  I could see him leaning there, and Greta Garbo upon the barstool, cocktails in hand, emptied glasses on the bar, laughing in ridicule at the expense of some politician, talking derisively of a nation full of shallow people with no direction.  Glimpsing the doorway, Josephine Baker traipses through, exotically clad in a manner that defied acceptability, dog at the end of a jeweled leash.

      But this was not a mere haven for expatriates and Bohemians.  Josip Broz Tito, too, had come here, the one Eastern Bloc head of State courageous enough to defy the Soviet Union and pave a separate path for his country. The Pera Palas  has accommodated European royalty and Prime Ministers, as well as Middle Eastern shahs, pashas, sheiks and princes, actors, First Ladies, writers, and expatriates.  And, it, like the exotic city of Istanbul that surrounds it, has hypnotically attracted me for 35 years.  I do not always stay in the Pera Palas, but it always beckons and lures, usually late in the afternoon, as seagulls glide past minarets decorating an orange and purple sunset.  This is the time and place to relax over High Tea, relish the day's experiences, and plan the evening ahead, like many who have left their indelible mark on history have done before.