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Friday 2004-05-14 - Aleppo, Syria
Tea on the square
Today is Friday, so all Islamic stores will be closed, including most of the Souk. We go to Aleppo’s Armenian (Al-Jdeida) quarter instead where we visit a few old merchant’s houses. One, Sissi House (Beit Sissi), lovingly restored with as much as possible of the original interior, is now a bar and restaurant; the other, Beit Wakil, is beautifully restored but somewhat less authentically; this is now a four-star hotel. Here we can also see the cellars, part of an old system of underground passages which connected all the houses and ended up below the citadel where people could find safety when the city was attacked. In both houses, visitors are often welcome to look around, even if they are not guests. It’s very interesting to see such old (and rich) houses with their pleasant courtyards.
Afterwards we end up at a little square - the three of us would like some tea. Thom goes off to find some while Carla and I sit down but he returns without having found anything. Just at that moment we see a man serving some tea to three men across from us; a little wave and he comes to us: yes, he sells tea! So here we sit in the shade of some trees on a little bench, sipping our tea and watching the comings and goings across the square at the bakery: people in a crush in front of the hole-in-the-wall store, getting piles of piping-hot round flat bread which is then immediately spread out on benches and fences to cool off before repacking it and taking it home.
Tuesday 2004-05-18 - Şanlıurfa, Turkey
Medieval atmosphere
This morning, Carla and I first roam through the curving alleys of the old town of Urfa with its medieval houses. It’s a veritable labyrinth, no right angle, no straight street, beautiful bow-windows and some houses actually built right over the streets, and — not suprisingly — a lot of interesting doors for my photographic collection.
We end up near the river (an open sewer) where Kurdish people have a market of second-hand clothes. It’s quite obvious the Kurdish people are among the poorest in Turkey, even though we’re here in Kurdish territory.
On we go along the vegetable market and through the bazaar until we end up near the carp pond where we meet Thom.
Thursday 2004-05-20 - Diyarbakır, Turkey
Kurdish capital
The ancient city of Diyarbakır, situated on the banks of the river Tigris and inhabited for over 5000 years, is the Kurdish capital in Turkey. We arrive already at eleven at our hotel within the old city walls after a trip from Mardin through a gradually more green landscape with rugged mountains and some agriculture.
After a short visit to the mosque (essentially closed to us since a prayer service is starting) with market stalls in the courtyard and lots of noise around, we decide to walk along the inside of the city walls on the way to another Christian church. We end up walking through the poorest, and not the most pleasant quarter of town. 90% of inhabitants of Diyarbakır are Kurds, and while Kurds are among the poorest in Turkey, the poorest of them in Diyarbakır live here in tiny houses below the old city wall.
The children are quite irritating, constantly begging for money, grasping your hands and clothes. Apparently more naive tourists have taught them that if you keep asking, ultimately they will give money — just to get rid of you. That’s a good way to create beggars out of children. We try instead to just ignore them but that isn’t all that easy: they also like to jump in front of the camera when you want to make a picture — not to be in the picture, but just to get in the way.
Luckily the grown-ups are mostly friendly, especially after you greet them first. A small group of women is baking bread in an outside oven, and they invite me to have a closer look and take a picture. Farther on, a girl sits in a doorway with her friend crocheting a fringe for a shawl. She’s quite happy for me to take a picture of her. I compliment her friend about her shawl and she tells me its fringe was also made by the other girl who then shows me her samples. Obviously she does this for others who can pick a pattern from the samples, a way to make a little (extra) money. Mother also wants a picture, and a small boy writes down the address.
A young man who’s accompanied us uninvited since the mosque turns out to have a small shop with carpets and jewelry; he invites us for a cup of tea in his shop. On the way, he tells us he’s half Kurdish - something not very common here.
A Kurdish evening out
Our tour companion met a Kurdish man in Diyarbakır today; he knows about a cafe where there will be live Kurdish music this evening. We all gather to go there after dinner. It turns out to be a very nice and also interesting evening. The cafe is in a cellar - and quite open; only three years ago, Kurds here could not publicly play their music here, and had to meet in secret. At least the situation of the Kurds has improved somewhat now.
The singer of the band seems to be quite well known locally, and the cafe fills up: middle-aged and young people, but also whole families with children. The music is a mix of modern songs and traditional music, and whenever a traditional is played, a group of students next to us start dancing. We chat a little with them: the boys have learned the Kurdish dances since they were boys, the girls only last year. With other well-known songs they sing along. During a break a small boy comes to the stage and is allowed to sing a song. It’s obvious the Kurds cherish their own culture and keep it alive through meetings like this. The students are poor; they only share a bottle of water (they pay their share for the band, too) and can afford to do this only once a month.
We end up dancing with them, much to the amusement of the other customers, since the steps of their dances aren’t all that easy to learn. When the show is over at eleven, we get some group pictures taken, both with the dancing students and with the band, and finally are offered a drink by the cafe management. All in all a wonderful evening with an interesting little peek into Kurdish culture.
Tuesday 2004-05-25 - Tabriz, Iran
A hard-to-find church
We take the city bus to the center of Tabriz again, and go looking for the Armenian Maryam church, near the bazaar according to our little map. We can’t find it, and when we are obviously looking around us, an older man spots us and guides us there: he guessed what we were looking for because he himself is an Armenian. The church is in the block where we were looking, but with no obvious entrance: you have to go into an alley, then turn right into another alley, then knock on an iron gate.
We’re let into the courtyard by a friendly old man, but alas the church itself, dating back to 1782, is closed, and only opened for religious holidays. He tells us a little about Armenians in Iran: they’re only a very small minority with about 250,000 people in all. Here in Tabriz there are 4 churches, and they even have an Armenian school where the children learn Armenian (which has its own script), Farsi (written in Arabic script) and English (written in Roman script). They also used to have their own newspaper here (there’s a remnant of the printing press in the garden) but now there’s an Armenian newspaper only in Tehrān. Many of the Armenians here live in the flats around the church; the buildings are owned by the church.
Meeting in the park
After we take our leave form the carpet seller and his younger brother, ‘Green jacket’ no longer follows us. Our next goal is a visit to the beautiful Blue Mosque of Tabriz (Masjed-e Kabud, still in the process of being restored, very expertly) and after spending quite some time there we decide to call it a day and head for the park. We find a bench in the shade and watch the locals relax. Soon a man approaches us and asks if he can talk with us; we agree and he joins us on our bench.
He turns out to be an Azeri (not all that surprisingly as we should have known: this region is actually called East Azarbaijan and many Azeris live here; Tabriz is the capital of the province). His story matches that of the Armenian at the Maryam church and the carpet seller but adds new insights. He tells us that as opposed to the very small minority of the Armenians which obviously don’t form any threat, Azeris aren’t allowed to use their own language: Turkish is forbidden here in Iran. Of course people speak it all the same (when they feel safe enough) but it’s not taught in any school and thus they can write only in Farsi.
Another surprising tidbit he tells us is that while alcohol is strictly forbidden — if you are found drinking it you may end up in prison for six months — some two million people are addicted to drugs which are easily (though not openly) available; they can go to some parks to use the drugs. Also according to him, many young people (four million) are depressed. Except at university, young men are not allowed to speak to girls, and if caught, a young man may even be forced to marry the girl in question (frankly, that sounds a bit far-fetched to us). Like the carpet seller, he brings up the point of access to information, and tells us that many people have a satellite dish, which is forbidden. A dish can be bought secretly if you know the way, and is kept indoors. At the recent elections for parliament here, when so many liberal candidates were removed from the list, only 14% of people in this region actually went to vote — partly because there was no candidate left which they wanted to vote for, partly as a form of protest. In general, it seems that while things were gradually getting more liberal before, now that’s being turned back again.
Of course we can’t check all the things he tells us, but he seems remarkably open and clearly eager to talk about the problems in his country and for the Azeri minority he belongs to. We end up staying much longer in the park than we had planned. All in all, an interesting day, even more for the people than the sites we visited.
Wednesday 2004-06-16 - Bukhara, Uzbekistan
Jewish Quarter
When we arrive near the Synagogue, just one street further off Laby Hauz, a young man approaches us. It’s closed now, he explains (we can see the big lock on the door), but if we can wait a bit he’ll ask the rabbi to open up for us. While it’s new for Carla, I’d like to see it again: last time I was here they were busy restoring it so I’m curious what it’s like now. A few minutes later the young man comes back; the rabbi will be here in 20 minutes, he says, would we like to see the old synagogue in the mean time? I didn’t know there was another one here! So yes. On the way through the labyrinthine streets of the old Jewish quarter he tells us he’s a Jew himself and while his relatives would like to emigrate to the US (not Israel), he wants to stay here and work as a guide. We pass a small market (empty now) with stone benches to displaying the wares, where kosher meat is traded, and a small kindergarten where we’re allowed a peek inside. The children are just having a bite and a drink, and are quite curious to suddenly see a pair of strangers. The elementary school nearby is empty now (the kids have vacation from June through August) but we can have a look there, too: they’re busy restoring it but it will be ready for the new school year in September. 600 Jewish families still live in Bukhara, our guide tells us. He speaks Tadjik with friends he meets on the street, so he could be qualified as a ‘Jewish Tadjik Uzbek.’
At the Synagogue we can look inside; downstairs, there’s a row of chairs for older women, otherwise the men sit here; younger women sit upstairs om the balcony. There’s a homely atmosphere, it looks and feels very much like a religious home for a small close-knit community — an atmosphere very similar to the Armenian churches we’ve seen in Turkey and Iran. When, after a short visit to the young man’s home where we get a cup of tea and I buy an old book, we finally get back to the ‘new’ Synagogue, it’s closed again: the rabbi must have gotten tired of waiting since our tour (with me walking very slowly and much farther than I’d planned) took a lot longer than 20 minutes.
In the city, it’s hot (“it’s cool now,” says our guide) but the smell of hot dust is relieved here and there by the aroma of freshly baked bread — the best bread in all of Central Asia — somehow the combination is typical Bukhara. After a cool beer at Laby Hauz we go back to the hotel so I can rest my foot and put more ice on it. I’m a bit less worried about it now: it’ll be very uncomfortable for a while and I’ll be slow but at least I’m mobile. It’ll heal.
Saturday 2004-06-26 - Kashgar, Xinjiang (China)
Renovation at breakneck speed
After changing money (first a little at the hotel shop, possibly illegally, then after some false tries at other banks more at the main branch of the Bank of China which is indeed open) we walk in the direction of the Id Kah mosque in Kashgar. The first thing I note, a way before we get there, is a big poster depicting the future of Id Kah square: all new design, rows of new shops all around … but when we walk on we find this vision isn’t that far into the future — in fact it’s nearly finished! A large chunk of the old town around the mosque has been torn down to make place for the fancy new buildings, some in quasi-Uyghur style. There’s a fence all around the are but we notice locals walking through various openings and doors in the fence to avoid making a long detour. While we’re watching this, a woman simply waves us through and we find ourselves on the eerily empty new square. We can walk around unchallenged. The new square pavement is nearly finished but it looks very strange without all the usual bustle and market stalls. After walking around some and taking pictures, we leave the building area again through a a half-finished building and another opening in the fence. Then we try to find another way into the old town — or what’s left of it.
Vegetable Market Road is open and physically unchanged but much quieter than I know it, probably because part of the market crowd has disappeared with part of the old town where all the shops and stalls used to be. Farther on, the old houses still stand, but they’re working on completely new road pavement. I wonder if these houses will disappear as well but at least the new pavement follows the old road pattern. Maybe not — or not yet?
China is busy renovating all of its cities in preparation for the 2008 Olympics but here in Kashgar there’s an cynical twist to it: the process of renovation (or ‘renovation’) has been going on for years already, driving the Uyghurs out of the city center to new flats at the outskirts of the city, and letting Han Chinese into the city (though their apartments aren’t all that much better). On the one hand, living conditions for the Uyghurs should be better in a practical sense, providing them with water and (better) sewer systems; on the other, culturally they are much worse off: they no longer have their old neighborhood mosques nearby, let alone the Id Kah (a Friday mosque); and if they’re not living on the top floor of the high-rise apartments, they have other people walking above them — something quite disconcerting for people who normally live in family dwellings around a courtyard. I feel that in a sense, it’s taking the heart out of their culture. This may not even be intentional: the supremely pragmatic Han seem to have no sense of the value of a cultural heritage.
Even two years ago, we found half of a large cemetery had been razed to make place for new apartment buildings (I was happy to have seen it before it was destroyed — it was quite impressive then). Now, the Olympics form a good excuse to speed up this renovation process. I can’t help but wonder what will be left here in four years’ time, and how far the Uyghurs still living here will then have to travel to go to the Id Kah mosque on Fridays. (The mosque is also used by Hui, Muslim Chinese, but they are a very small minority here.) Still, at least the mosque itself will be spared; two years ago even that wasn’t certain. But one of the charms of Kashgar was the contrast between the old Uyghur center and the new Chinese town growing up right next to it; at least some of that is disappearing now. It makes me sad — and makes me wonder what’s happening in Tibet now…
The largest mosque in Xinjiang
The center of Kashgar has turned into a huge construction area (the preceding destruction seems to be finished already). The main entrance of the Id Kah is closed while ‘renovating’ the square in front of it, but the mosque is still open. We locate a back entrance I hadn’t noticed before and find ourselves right at the wide, open prayer hall at the back of the large courtyard. Pillars and roof beams are made of wood, decorated with carving and painted in various bright colors; there’s some decoration on the walls as well. The whole of the huge courtyard is shaded by a mass of poplars also lining the ponds. As a result, it’s always cool and pleasant here, a spot to quietly sit and ponder the world and whatever upper being(s) you believe in. Now, it’s also like a peninsula of the old Kashgar in a sea of modernization. A spot to find your inner peace again, just sitting under the rustling poplar leaves.
Just when we sit down, a man approaches us and asks if we have a ticket — well, no, we entered at the back, there’s no ticket office there. We’ll buy one, of course. No problem, you can stay where you are, just give me the money (10 Yuan), he suggests, which we do. A little while later the friendly man comes walking back to bring us the tickets and tells us they’ll be closing in a few minutes. We ask and get permission to walk a little around the courtyard before actually leaving!
This mosque, with its huge poplar-shaded courtyard is not just unique: it’s also the largest mosque in all of Xinjiang; originally built in the 15th century, it was extended and renovated later. Also interesting is that (as I noted when I was here before) not only Uyghurs come here, but Hui (Muslim Chinese) as well. I’m glad this very special bit of Kashgar will at least remain.
Tuesday 2004-06-29 - Kuqa, Xinjiang (China)
Uyghurs and Han Chinese
Back in Kuqa, Carla and I first walk around the new part of town a little, checking out the shops. In the evening, we all have dinner together: next to the Min Mao hotel is a well-stocked supermarket and next to that is the “Uyghur Restaurant”.
Although this is actually my fourth visit to Xinjiang, here in Kuqa I see for the first time ‘imported’ Han Chinese interacting normally and friendly with the original local population — Uyghurs here. (Original at least when the Chinese claimed this territory; much farther back in history, the Turkic peoples and Tajiks themselves moved into what is now the Xinjiang province of China.) What I saw until now was two different societies living almost completely separate lives, going to different schools, shopping at different shops and market stalls, eating at different restaurants. Here in Kuqa I’m interested to see a mixture of Chinese and Uyghur on the market, a Chinese woman having a friendly chat with an Uyghur woman on the street corner; and here in the restaurant, run completely by a team of Uyghurs serving both Uyghur and Chinese food, both Uyghurs and Chinese come to eat.
This warms my heart: maybe, given time, these peoples can indeed live peacefully together without the Uyghurs giving up their identity.
The atmosphere at the restaurant is very pleasant, and the food is truly excellent so we end up taking nearly all our meals here.
Wednesday 2004-06-30 - Kuqa, Xinjiang (China)
Relaxing and shopping
We will leave tonight on the night train, so we have most of the day to do as we see fit. Together with Carla I first walk out of the modern town which we explored a little already yesterday: As in Kashgar, the old Uyghur quarters are on the outskirts, but nearby here since Kuqa is a relatively small town.
We discover a small Uyghur cemetery where there even is an old tomb (which we don’t visit) as well as a small mosque. Within the walls, we sit in the shade a bit and see several men arriving for payers, several on their bike. We “chat” a bit with an old man who (of course) wants to know where we are from; he’s 100 years old, claims his companion, which probably just means “very old” — he certainly is that.
Along a small unpaved road we detour back to the modern town where we explore the nice market, and more shops; I even buy two shirts.
After dinner together, again at the Uyghur Restaurant next door, we leave at 21:30 for the station, taking four taxis this time. Our train is a slightly more modern version of the one we had from Kashgar. Lights out at 23:00.
Wednesday 2004-07-07 - Xi’an, China
Relaxing in the mosque… again
Now that we’ve arrived in the ‘real’ old town of Xi’an, we don’t actually see many signs that this is a Muslim quarter: only a few of the men and women we see actually wear their traditional Muslim headdres, but most don’t (even though most people here may actually be Muslim). Chinese Muslims, although ethnically mostly Han Chinese, are called Hui and are recognized as a separate ‘nationality’ in China.
In Kashgar the Hui go to the Id Kah mosque together with the Uyghurs; this mosque, with all its poplars in the large courtyard, is very Uyghur in style and atmosphere. Here, in Xi’an, there are no Uyghurs (although we occasionally see people from other minorities in the streets). So now, after all the mosques we visited on our long trip, through predominanty Muslim countries, we’re curious what a Chinese mosque will be like. Maybe we shouldn’t have been surprised, but when we finally arrive after a somewhat roundabout route avoiding most of the tourist shops, the surprise is how ‘Chinese’ it looks. It’s actually more like a Buddhist temple than a mosque: we miss the architectural pattern we’ve become used to, with a large central courtyard and a central fountain or pond for ritual washing.
According to historical records carved in stone tablets presrved here, the mosque was set up in 742 AD during the Tang dynasty, and restored and further expanded during the Song, Yuan, Ming and Qing dynasties. Not surpisingly, the complex boasts a rich variety of architectural styles in the many buldings, platforms, pavillions and prayer halls arranged along five consecutive courtyards. In the fourth courtyard is a kind of pagoda with an octagonal roof serving as a minaret (unlike any we’ve seen before); instead of a central fountain or pond for the ritual washing there is a separate building dedicated to this purpose to the side of this courtyard. The large prayer hall, not accessible to non-muslims, is at the end of the fifth courtyard. Instead of wide open places, the four first courtyards are actually lush gardens; between the old trees and lots of flowers and shrubs there are many places to sit and rest, and enjoy the quiet: here, shielded from the bustle of metropolis all around it, one hears no traffic — only the chirping and birdsong of the many birds living here. In fact, sitting in the shade in this nice peaceful atmosphere, we find it actually hard not to doze off.
We hang around for quite a while, before braving the tourist shops to shop for some presents to take home.
