Ancient Meets Modern

Whenever someone comes home from a trip, he or she is always asked "what was your favorite part?" This can be a particularly difficult question to answer, especially if you were on a six week trip that took you through Egypt, Turkey, Greece, and central Europe. However, when I returned from my trip to the Mediterranean and Europe in 2008 the answer came to me almost instantly: climbing the ancient Theodosian walls in Istanbul.

Compared to riding a camel in Egypt, taking a donkey down the hills of Santorini, or caving in Budapest, it certainly wasn't the most adventurous activity we took part in (although we did scale some pretty sketchy looking steps). It wasn't the most informative compared to many museums that we visited, or the most cultured compared to seeing a ballet in Budapest or an opera in Prague. It certainly wasn't the most awe inspiring structure; after the Pyramids of Giza and the Acropolis in Athens, few man made structures are. For me it was the juxtaposition between the ancient and modern--the Byzantine bricks and the modern highways; the urban sprawl that has made the previous demarcation of the city limits an impediment to the vitality of Istanbul as a 21st century city.

Part of what made this experience so inspiring for me was the journey there. After exiting the subway, we walked through the "real" Istanbul--not the polished-up touristy area or the restored ruins that portray a city that is now long gone. We walked past crumbled down brick houses, saw children playing soccer in the street--in essence day-to-day life. It was one of our last days in the city, and it was nice to finally see it through native eyes. The wall had a strip of grass running parallel to the wall on either side. My guidebook had told me that plants are often grown in this place. What it did not tell me is that I would find homeless people and wild horses taking advantage of one of the few green belts running through this dense metropolis.

Although there was an official tourist section further north of us, we decided to climb the wall at the first spot we found. We weren't the only ones--several local kids were also taking part in this form of ruin rock-climbing. Seeing children playing on the ruins was the first indication that the wall was not simple a ruin of the 5th century BCE, but had found a place for itself in modern society. Unlike museums, palaces, and in many cases religious buildings, the wall was not just there to be a window to the past, preserved in its original state. It had been allowed to organically grow with the city, so that it now served as an outdoor home for those without a roof over their head, a pasture for horses, a playground for children, and a field for gardeners.

Once we reached the top of one of the towers (after a steep climb of very narrow steps), the view was outstanding. We had already gone to the top of the Galata tower, which is higher and closer to the downtown, but for me this was far superior. We were high up enough that we could actually see what was going on around us, yet no so far removed that we were disconnected from life on the ground. The first thing that struck me was that even though it was the middle of the day, the traffic was horrendous. As I looked beyond the roads, I noticed that we had a beautiful view of sweeping hills and urban sprawl that, except for the blue of the Bosphorus, never seemed to end. It gave us a unparalleled perception of the scope of Istanbul.

This was the only piece of architecture that we actually interacted with in Istanbul; we were not merely viewing the magnificent past, but climbing, sitting on, and absorbing it in a way that one cannot with a museum or palace that you merely walk through. For me it was a chance to experience something that felt authentic, and yet, was not forced. The wall showed no signs of the purposeful maintenance that other historical tourist attractions are steeped in (think Versailles), but it was still excellently maintained. Somehow it managed to maintain most of its physical structure from ancient times, but adapt to modern uses. It was a way of stepping into the past without leaving the present.