Travel Ramblings of a Thirty (Nearly Forty) Something!

Well, this feels a little weird....writing about a place other than New York! Panic ensues and I am not sure I can produce the goods! I’ve been to many countries, cities and amazing places but have only ever written about The Big Apple. Thing is, I don’t feel enough of an authority to write about a place after only being there for a few days, It makes me feel somewhat uneasy and I fear inaccuracies or offending people! Of course I am far, far from being the font of all knowledge about New York and how I wish I could live and breathe her vibrant streets everyday but it is a place I am passionate about and have lovingly revisited many times. So, reader, I seek your patience and perseverance with my very first ramble about a city that is worlds apart, quite literally, than my treasured, cosmopolitan New York....

The modern metropolis of Istanbul proudly strides across two continents, encompassing Europe on its Western, Thracian side and Asia to the East, Anatolian side separated by the industrious Bosphorus Strait which connects the Sea of Mamara to the Black Sea. The Golden Horn stretch of water further divides the European promontory with the districts of Galata to its North and Eminonu to the South. Istanbul has had an interesting and colourful history to say the least; she has been the centre of two thriving empires in her time and was once the Turkish capital city. In 657 BC, Byzantium (now there’s a beguiling title!) was a prospering fishing colony sited at Seraglio Point, profiting from her strategic position on the Bosphorus Strait and the scores of passing ships that would pass alongside and trade with her inhabitants. For almost 1000 years Byzantium endured a torrent of invasions by varying leaders and emperors; the Persians, Athenians, Spartans and the Romans. Finally a civil war in 324 AD with victory for a Roman, Constantine, the city is declared new capital of the Roman Empire. Constantine renames Byzantium as New Rome but after his death in 330 AD the citizens quickly change it to Constantinople. Not wishing to demean the next 1000 years and events of the still Byzantine Constantinople but fast forwarding to 1453 AD when Emperor Constantine XI died fighting for his Christian, Byzantine Constantinople. Sultan Mehmet II exerts Ottoman control and proclaims the city to Islamic creed, converting the many Christian churches to mosques. Although still known as Constantinople until into the 20^thcentury, it is now that the label of Istanbul is first used. Years of modernization projects were not enough to secure the Ottoman Empire and its demise culminated in the occupation of British, French and Italian forces in 1922 when the last Ottoman Sultan was exiled. The following year the recognition of the Republic of Turkey was declared by Mustafa Kemal Ataturk and the old Ottoman Constantinople was no more. Istanbul emerged as the beginnings of what it is today.

Phew, a potted history of Byzantium, Constantinople and Istanbul! Other (and far more in depth, descriptive and educational!) histories are of course available and I apologise now for my rather concise and laconic version of the momentous and significant events in Turkish history!

So, ‘A tale of two continents, where East meets West’....Having heard all the clichéd expressions that attempt to portray and characterise Istanbul I wanted to see it for myself. The descriptions I’d curiously read inspired images of colourful bazaars and heady, spicy aromas wafting through the shadowy, secret streets. Visions of sultans and harems, unfamiliar music playing and belly dancers shaking and twisting their bodies to the rhythm. Turkish delight and real ‘kebaps’ (not Friday night down the local high street after a few too many, kebabs). Warm, hazy days and cool, breezy nights under the moonlight and stars and walking along the Bosphorus shores. This all seemed so invitingly exotic to me and ignoring the dubious and quizzical looks from my friends; quite unsure of why a single female should want to visit such a place on her own, and the mumbled comments of ‘mutter, mutter, mutter, midnight express, mutter, mutter’ I found myself slap bang in the hustle and bustle of a city that had fuelled my senses with romantic notions of ancient empires swirled with sprawling modernity.........

Perhaps you were at work? Or in the comfort and safety of your own home eating breakfast? Driving perhaps, listening to breaking news unfold? On the school run trying to hush up the kids for a minute so that you could confirm the heart stopping news you thought you had just heard, but hoped you had imagined. One thing for certain though is that where ever you were, at whatever time it was in your corner of the globe and whatever you were doing you will never, ever forget the moment that you heard.
In the initial confusion the news headlines were that a small passenger aircraft had accidentally just crashed into the North Tower of the World Trade Centre and this was certainly the preferred, plausible explanation to that of what quickly transpired to be the most hideous of truths; the unfolding events of September 11th 2001 that are now all too familiar to us all; sadly etched into our memories for eternity.

It was not until 3 days later that it even dawned on me that I and a friend had a flight booked to visit New York in just 10 weeks time; I had been so horrifyingly transfixed to the television reports that it hadn’t even crossed my mind. We had booked the flight only 2 weeks before and it was to be a first visit to the city for both of us; and my first ever trip to the USA. With the world in a state of turmoil, disbelief and revulsion and with air travel about to be changed forever it was actually a very quick and easy decision that my pal and I made to still go ahead with our trip booked for December. In the days and weeks that followed, New Yorkers displayed courage in the face of adversity and came to terms with the tragic aftermath of their treasured city. The United States pulled together as a nation with the jingoistic patriotism that is forever present in all Americans, showing the world they would not give in to terrorist tyranny. President Bush declared the ‘War on Terror’ with Operation Active Endeavour initiated 26 days later. Tracy and I followed this immeasurable resolve and staunch tenacity of Uncle Sam and his people and determined that no pathetic, fanatical extremists were going to stop us in our everyday lives, let alone stop us visiting an amazing city that we had long wished to explore. In a sense we felt it a duty to stick to our plans; to cancel would have been letting down every single human being who had lost someone or been touched by those wretched consequences of the day that changed the world forever.

Having only ever seen the majestic Twin Towers in photographs and movies I still felt a huge sense of loss as I stood reading the panels of heart wrenching messages giving hope and support that adorned the fence around the outside of the Saint Paul’s Chapel in Lower Manhattan. The chapel had been spared any real damage on September 11^th with not so much as a broken window. She subsequently became a place of refuge, solace and rest for the hundreds of rescue workers during the months that followed. An army of volunteers prepared and served meals, set up beds and prayed with fire fighters, police and other aid workers round the clock for eight months until the clear up stage came to an end. The fence had become the main site for impromptu acts of memorial to the just short of 3000 victims of 9/11. Flowers, teddy bears, children’s drawings, badges and flags of all nationalities filled the first 15 panels and a further 385 were subsequently needed. The most upsetting addition to the fences though were the photographs of loved ones who had been lost in the towers; so many still categorised as ‘missing’ and inevitably never to be found. As the tears rolled down my face, smiling, unaware faces from the photos stared back at me with innocent, carefree expressions. Such warm, loving words accompanied the array of photos and I lost track of time reading as many as I could. Tracy and I also witnessed the iconic image of the remaining twisted metal shards of the towers that defiantly still stood at Ground Zero some three months later; smoke floating out of the dusty rubble remains as it took 99 days for the fires to be completed extinguished.

That first trip to New York of mine in 2001 was of course tainted by the recent disaster; the thought of the 3051 children who had lost a parent, the 1717 families who were never able to bury their loved one and the countless other horrific statistics that were attributable to that September day. But numbers and statistics were not what New York compatriotism was about. Tracy and I felt an unassuming determination and doggedness in every New Yorker that we met. The city was welcoming and showed no signs of despondency or despair that would have perhaps been forgiven under the circumstances. We spent our five day trip visiting all the sights we had planned, shopping to our credit cards max and feeling proud that we had perhaps assisted the Big Apple to stick two very big fingers up to any senseless fanatic who thought that Lady Liberty and her family could possibly be destroyed.

In the ten years that have passed I have gone back to New York a total of five times and each time paid my respects to Ground Zero. I have seen the area rebuild itself over the years and most recently I have been proud to visit the newly opened World Trade Centre Memorial Plaza. A competition had been held to determine an appropriate and befitting memorial site for 9/11 and in January 2004 the winning design ‘Reflecting Absence’ by architects Michael Arad and Peter Walker was selected. One and a half acres of oak trees have been planted across the plaza as a contemplative space for visitors. The forest encloses two 30 foot deep voids that are placed at the exact footprints of the Twin Towers. Water cascades down into the North and South voids of which you cannot see the bottom. The design strives to ‘make visible what is absent’ (Michael Arad) and I feel that this design does this extremely well. You can imagine where the towers were and you also gain a huge sense of loss from the twinned voids. Etched all around the two voids are the names of every single individual lost on September 11^th; including those from Flight 77 and Flight 93 that crashed into the Pentagon and a field in Pennsylvania respectively. Names are grouped together with fellow fallen comrades from the same fire department, ladder or engine. Companies have their employee’s names collected together and families were able to request that their loved one was placed next to a specific friend or name. Equally touching is also the inclusion of the names of those who were killed in the February 1993 bombing attack on the towers. As you walk around the voids reading the names the enormousness of loss really hits you. So many names, so many lives affected by the actions of so few irrational extremists. But the names no longer bring a lump to my throat or cause me to cry but they do advocate quiet contemplation and remembrance. Not only for the victims of terror and the families of the lost but as a reminder that we only have one life on this earth and you never quite know what is around the corner. Morbid perhaps but I prefer to think of it as a positive recognition to live every day as if it may be your last; ‘Carpe Diem’ for sure!

Although the plaza and the voids are now open there is much more to be opened in 2012. A museum, a new transportation hub, a memorial hall and a mausoleum that will house the unidentified remains collected at Ground Zero are all due to be ready for the public this year. Number 7 World Trade Centre office block opened in 2006 and the other new skyscrapers at the World Trade Centre site will follow in the years to come. ‘One World Trade Centre’ when completed will become America’s tallest building at 1776 feet and having never had the pleasure of eating at the ‘Windows of the World’ restaurant I will be sure to book a table at what will be America’s highest restaurant.

The Captain* and I spent a few hours at the Memorial Plaza in December and will visit the site on every trip we go back. I would not, and could not come to New York and pass the area by. I urge anyone who calls in to the city to go and walk the voids and plaza; take an afternoon from shopping and sightseeing to salute the fallen, the missing and all those who have since lost their lives in the enduring fight for the War on Terror. I appreciate that this ‘ramble’ by me may not have been as light hearted as my previous posts but as a lover of New York and her uniquely captivating citizens I wanted to offer my sincere endorsement and support to the plaza and New York. You are truly an inspirational city and in the words of Mark Twain I vow to..........

‘Sing like no one's listening, love like you've never been hurt, dance like nobody's watching,

and live like its heaven on earth’.