Diyarbakir 2000 (Other locations...)

Member Name: maikli

Product:	Other locations...
Date:	13/12/03 (169 review reads)
Rating:

Advantages: Not a tourist in sight, attractions for those who hunt for them, Hasankeyf, one of the most beautiful places in Turkey

Disadvantages: Possible security problems, not a city that sells itself

"The Foreign and Commonwealth Office advise against all non-essential travel to SE Turkey, places east and south of and including the cities of Diyarbakir, Van and Mardin."

This cheery sentence was ringing in my ears as the minibus pulled up at Diyarbakir's enormous black basalt city walls, firecrackers sounding all around me. Thoughts of PKK violence and racial hatred did come to mind, as Diyarbakir is well-known throughout Turkey as being a majorly important Kurdish centre and a fairly lawless place. My travelling companion, a Turkish friend I studied with in Syria, climbed out of the bus and stood next to me. BANG! A firecracker exploded just by our feet. "I see the Bayram celebrations have started already," she casually remarked before marching off into the darkness in search of a hotel.

Despite all the warnings, Diyarbakir had calmed down a bit by 2000, although the journey here still wasn't completely without risk. I hadn't planned to come this far east...this was supposed to be a quick hop over the border from Syria during the Eid/Bayram holidays, long enough to visit maybe one or two towns, and head back to school in Damascus. That was before a crazy Turk had decided to accompany me, and out plans grew and grew...and so, late one evening, we found ourselves at Dag Kapisi (Mountain Gate), the main entrance to what remains of Diyarbakir's old city.

I have to admit that Diyarbakir would never win any beauty contests. It is an ancient city built on the banks of the River Dicle (Tigris) and surrounded by what are reputed to be the longest unbroken walls after the Great Wall of China. However, inside the walls, the buildings tend to fall into two camps: old and decrepit, or modern, concrete and soulless. If you are not put off at first sight, the Diyarbakir rewards the visitor with hidden mosques, barely-functioning churches poking out from behind trees and rubble, narrow alleyways leading to busy m
arkets.

What really attracted me to Diyarbakir was not historical wonders...Diyarbakir had a strange atmosphere, something like that of a frontier town, which in a sense, I suppose it was. Kurdish women rub shoulders in the market with Arab traders from the south and Turkish army generals...you hear all sorts of languages on the streets. Because of the troubles, there is a heavy military presence here, with a result that Diyarbakir felt like a city waiting on tenterhooks, not totally at war, but not totally at peace either. At first, it seemed as if everyone viewed us with suspicion...after all, not many foreigners had ventured inside the walls for several years, so the question on a lot of people's lips was what the hell were we doing there!

The first morning, we took a walk down the main artery of the old city, on the look out for a pastane or bakery. Over a cake and a warming cup of tea, we struck up a conversation with the cafe owner, a young Kurdish man who was very pleased at having two foreigners eating at his place (even though my friend was Turkish, coming from Istanbul was considered the same as coming from abroad!). His friend came in from his clothes' stall just round the corner, and after refusing to let us pay for our breakfast, they closed their businesses and took us on a tour round the city! A very embarrassing event really...it is amazing how generous people can be at the most unexpected moments.

Our first port of call was the Deliler Han, a former caravanseray now transformed into a very posh hotel and restaurant called "Otel Buyuk Kervansaray". We had a look around the reception area and briefly glimpsed the courtyard where there was a large swimming pool with views down towards the shining Dicle River, but we were shuffled out by the receptionists...apparently non-guests are not allowed unless they look the part!

Nearby, we climbed up a tower set into the walls...I don't think I would
have found it on my own, so it was a good job we were with locals. From here, we had access to the city walls, and took a walk along them all round the city. In places, you have to make acrobatic leaps of faith over sections that have disintegrated, but for the most part they are fairly in tact. One section near the castle enters a military area, and we were turned back by some very surprised-looking soldiers.

This was Kurban Bayrami, the Islamic festival which commemorates the slaughtering of the ram by Ibrahim. All day we had seen pick-up trucks race past with whole families crouched in the back, young children clutching worried-looking sheep in their arms. In the south of the old city is a sort of wasteground, and this was used for Bayram festivities...a small funfair had been erected, the big wheel adding some much-needed colour into this remarkably grey-brown city.

Feeling peckish, our new hosts bought us some Turkish bread from a bakery and took us back to their cafe to cut it up and present it with baklava and another glass of tea. Apparently this is quite a normal thing to do...take along a loaf or some other food, hand it to the waiter and as long as you buy a drink or something, you can eat it there...problem yok! I can't think of anywhere in Britain that allows this...

After our delicious lunch, we headed over to Ulu Camii, the Great Mosque, one of Diyarbakir's more impressive historical monuments. I waited in the courtyard while the other three entered the prayer hall to pray. An old man in a flat cap and fairly ragged clothes spotted me and attempted to chat with me...well, this was my first visit to Turkey so at that time I knew nothing of the language...I'm not even sure if he was speaking Turkish! In the end, he grinned a toothless grin and handed me a little bag of sugared chickpeas and shuffled off to wash for prayers.

Diyarbakir is also home to a good number of Christians...Greek Orthodox, Syria
n orthodox, Armenian Catholic...they're all here, each denomination with its own church. The first church we came across was almost totally in ruins, just the walls standing and a makeshift altar in one corner under a tarpaulin. After years of neglect, the roof had finally caved in, and the congregation of nine couldn't afford to repair it. I forget which particular church it was, but it was certainly in a sorry state...with grass growing tall on the floor, chickens running amok where pews had once been, it was almost beautiful in a sad kind of way. The caretaker's family lived in a shack within the church grounds, and had built a small temporary church in a cow shed. They also said they had applied for grants from certain cultural organizations, and were hoping for restoration work to commence soon...

Just round the corner, we paused outside a nondescript building with a door that barely carried out its function, tied on with rope and string and cloth. Eventually someone came to answer our knocks, and we followed them through a dark passage into an enormous grand courtyard. This was the Syrian Orthodox Church, also short of a lira or two, but functioning rather better
One of the priests came out to greet us, sporting an enormous beard and dressed in robes, surrounded by a babble of children. Midway through the conversation, he suddenly turned to me and asked me a question, and my friends had to explain that actually I was a foreigner. Immediately, his reaction towards us soured a bit, I'm not sure why, but for a few moments we felt distinctly unwelcome. One of them must then have told him that I was studying in his native Syria, and suddenly he broke out into a huge smile and welcomed me in Arabic. Replying in Arabic pleased him even more, and he agreed to give us a quick tour round the church complex. Again, this church had a minimal congregation, but somehow found the funds to run a small orphanage. Our hosts lived just round the co
rner from this church, yet this was the first time in their lives that they had dared to enter.

That evening, feeling fairly full after two quite hefty meals, we found a traditional baklava shop selling a local delicacy. Su Boregi is a very sticky sweet with that thin noodle-like pastry covering a layer of white cheese, all drenched in honey...delicious as it was, one portion was quite enough for the both of us!

The following day, the local police hinted strongly that maybe we would like to move on. The Kurdish New Year, Nowruz, was approaching, and although I'd have very much liked to have seen the festivities (which involve jumping over fire to burn away bad luck and bring in good luck), there had been violence in recent years and the police didn't want to be responsible for any trouble involving us. Never being one to ignore friendly suggestions from burly men wielding kalashnikovs, we said goodbye to our friends in the pastane, and boarded a bus to the interestingly named town of Batman. Unfortunately, interest in Batman stops at the name, as it seemed to be just a large industrial city. However, we had heard about a little village on the banks of the Dicle called Hasankeyf, had to pass through this concrete mess to change transport. Swapping an air-con bus for a minibus with bald tyres and a tie-on door (seems to be a trend in this region, tie-on doors!). For the duration of the ninety minute trip, I was wedged between an old woman's shopping bag, which seemed to contain only massive green leaves, and a worried looking sheep held by an even more worried-looking young boy. Arriving in Hasankeyf an hour before sunset was maybe not the best plan ever, although we did have time to explore the village before darkness crept in.

Hasankeyf is a tiny place with a huge history. The village is littered with ruins, and while the ruins themselves do not rival places like Petra or Palmyra, the stunning location makes up for all that.
After taking the obligatory sunset photos of the ruined bridge over the Dicle, some local children led us up the hillside, passing cave-houses, some of which are still lived in today. Some of the inhabitants have now abandoned their caves in favour of the "new village" (which is still centuries old), and a group of cave dwellings has been transformed into a popular outdoor cafe. At the top of the hill are the remains of a castle with great views of the river and the village down below.

For me, Hasankeyf was the highlight of my brief trip to SE Turkey, but unfortunately future visitors may not get to see it. You see, Hasankeyf is destined for a watery grave, as a huge dam is scheduled to be built upstream, flooding the entire valley. If this goes ahead, only Hasankeyf's castle will stand above the water level, but experts believe the pressure of the water will cause even that to collapse. At one point the British Government was rumoured to be financing part of the dam, and a couple of villagers asked me to tell Mr Blair how beautiful their village was. The dam has been put on hold, but still the fate of Hasankeyf is unclear.

There are plenty of hotels in Diyarbakir...for those with money to burn, there is the Kervansaray, as mentioned above. Due to the lack of tourists, I doubt there would be any problem finding a room available if you just dropped in. If you are watching your lira like we were, then there are a number of cheapish places just inside Dag Kapi on Kibris Caddesi. We randomly chose the Hotel Dicle, which offered room for $10 per person...this wasn't the cheapest place in town, but I'm not sure how comfortable my Turkish friend would have felt as a single female in a really cheap hotel. The Dicle was warm (it was April, so everywhere in this part of Turkey is freezing cold!), clean and the staff handled all the police registration fuss for us, so no real complaints. In Hasankeyf, there is an Ogretmen Evi, which i
s a house for visiting teachers...knowing what teachers' houses are like in Sudan, I imagine it is pretty basic, but we didn't stay overnight...we hitched our way back into Batman, before hitching throughout the night on the mountainous roads to Lake Van...but that's another story, coming soon maybe...

Transport in Turkey, I have since found out, is excellent, although things in the SE are a little more, shall we say, relaxed. Also, because of the recent troubles, make sure your documents are in order, as there were frequent police roadblocks on all roads in and out of Diyarbakir. As a rough guide, the journey to Mardin on the Syrian border took us three hours and cost a couple of dollars. hitching is possible, although not advised ever...being on a budget and wanting an adventure, we gave it a go and it worked, although in hindsight it was probably a very stupid thing indeed! Buses run to nearly every town from just about everywhere, and most of the buses are fairly comfortable...they certainly beat the British National Express buses!

To sum up...hmmm...well, Diyarbakir can only be described as strange. I like strange places, but know many who don't, and I think a lot of my friends would not have enjoyed spending a couple of days in this neck of the woods. It is maybe not the best place for an induction in all things Turkish, and Diyarbakir is certainly no Istanbul, but if you are willing to hunt around for your ancient karavanserays rather than have them handed to you on a plate, then consider including Diyarbakir on your itinerary, preferably as part of a much longer tour of Eastern Turkey. Those worried about safety shouldn't be...in 2000, things were on edge a little but the region was fairly peaceful and we had no real problems going where we wanted. Apparently the security situation has improved a lot in the last couple of years, and I can imagine that Eastern Turkey is a fantastic place to visit...stunning mountain lan
dscapes, towns untouched by tourism, genuinely friendly people...writing this, I'm itching to go back!

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