There is nothing quite like coming in to a city for the first time. Paul Kelly has a song called “Every fucking city” – or something like that. It’s like a talking comedy song (or at least in the version I’ve heard). You know, something like Alice’s restaurant. In it he declares that “every fucking city is the same”. And the audience sings along and laugh.
I love Paul Kelly, but I couldn’t disagree with him more. There are no cities that are the same – none. Every fucking city is amazingly different. Every city has its different charms. Its different styles. Its different wonders. I love coming into a city for the first time – that first impression. But I have never felt this stronger than when I first arrived in Istanbul.
I’m here for Global Powershift and the team had organised a shuttle busses for people into the accommodation. I actually hadn’t realised this and had booked a hotel in city as was planning to make it in tomorrow. I’m currently sitting in the hotel, even though I have registered and checked in my luggage into the conference accommodation.* It’s a bit far out though, so I thought I would make use of the accommodation I already had. I’m questioning my decision now though. To say that the room is tiny is to be generous.
Anyway, back to my point. GPS had organised a shuttle bus for us to get to the accommodation, meaning I got a free bus into town. Not having to use the metro as I was originally planning I could watch the city go by.
The first thing you notice about Istanbul is how big it is. I just goes on. In all directions. The airport is actually quite far out of the main town centre – or at least the bit where all the tourists go, but it doesn’t feel like that. It is city from the word go.
At first glance everything looks pretty similar. It is dense – a vast expanse of buildings about 6 – 10 stories high, all with red roofs. From above all you can see is red. A vast expanse of red – beautiful in its own way.
Get a bit closer however and you start to notice the differences. Looking deeper and I could see what I could only think of as a city of boom and bust. There were strips, and I’m not saying small strips, of high rise, expensive looking apartments and office buildings. These strips – the building always together – were scattered throughout the city. Yet within them, there were numerous empty shells. Buildings – some thirty stories high – that had been abandoned mid construction. It painted a strong contrast between a city that obviously had serious wealth, but was also clearly full of poverty.
As we entered further into the city, these discrepencies became clearer. I hadn’t realised it, but Istanbul sits in quite a hilly area – mountains and valleys rolling their way towards the sea – some still left untouched – others covered with housing complexes. The valleys really highlighted the differences – some were covered with masses of housing complexes, whilst others were being developed into what seemed like huge business precincts.
I’m not saying this to have a go at Istanbul for there being poverty an inequality. I am certainly not here to judge, and I do not intend to. But coming in, the differences really stand out.
One precinct shone out to me. We drove past what was called “Sky City Istanbul”. It was clearly early in its development faces, but it already looked impressive. Sitting on top of a huge hill sat a massive football stadium. There were huge signs surrounding the stadium with plans for the area – huge skyscrapers which would tower over the city. It reminded that Istanbul was bidding for the 2020 Olympics. There were posters hanging proudly in the airport. I couldn’t help but think about the experience in Brazil at the moment.
The only real constant were the mosques. They are everywhere. A large dome then made visible by the one or two minarets on either side. The minarets were almost like an identifier of the city. It was weird to think that there were areas in the world that were banning such structures.
*
We made it to our accommodation after about 30 minutes. I had a shower, ate, and then decided to head into the city.
My first trek into town, and I did exactly what everyone had told me not to do. “Just stay away from the area”, I’ve been told. “Don’t go where the protests are”. I have to say – just to be clear – that I really had no choice. I was catching the metro into town and the line terminated in Taksim. Get off anywhere else and I would have been far out of town. If you don’t know already, Taksim Square and the adjoining Gezi Park have been the epicentre of the recent protests in the city.
Arriving in the station I couldn’t help but feel a little anxious. Part of me expected to walk out into a mass of people. I’d been following the protests a bit, but it is really impossible to know what it is like on the ground. Nobody can really know until you are there. I decided I’d take my cues from the locals – and no one was acting any different than I would expect them to.
The first evidence I saw of the protests was in the train station. As I headed out there were corridors to two exits – Taksim Square and Gezi Park. The Gezi Park exit had been closed however – blocked off by police tape. Following the stairs, I emerged into the middle of Taksim Square and what I could probably only describe as an anti-climax.
The geography of the area is pretty easy. You have Taksim Square, which is actually really a rectangle. On one side of the square there is Gezi Park; a beautiful looking park, but which has now been closed. Opposite Gezi Park you have some office buildings and cafes On the other two sides – on end you have a monument of sorts – still not quite sure what it is about. Opposite that there is what I have now found out to be the Ataturk Cultural Centre.
It is the Cultural Centre which you cannot help but notice first. It is big square-looking black building, which at first glance seems recently built, but I think it is actually a bit older. It has a strangely Soviet feel about it – the sort of large monument the Soviets used to build in their town squares. That feeling though is probably exacerbated by the two extremely large Turkish flags draped over the building, with a just as large flag picturing who at the time I guessed was the President of Turkey. I have now learnt that that flag is of Ataturk himself – the ‘founder’ of the Republic of Turkey, making the symbolism different, but in some ways just as strong.
It was only after I’d stopped staring at the flags that I started to look around and noticed the police. They were everywhere – hundreds of them. Scattered across the square there were police vans, and what looked like riot trucks. The kind of things police would use to push through a crowd and then to hold those who had been arrested. Big black and white vehicles, with absolutely no windows, a mesh guard infront of the windscreen, and then most menacing of all, a big black sheet of metal folded around the front of the truck. It makes it look like it is for snow-plowing, but you very quickly realise it is for getting through crowds.
There were police, in and out of uniform, walking around the square at ease – as if they were all on a break. I wandered over to have a look at Gezi, strolling along its perimeter. The park was completely closed. It was wrapped in police tape, with lots of police sitting inside relaxing and chatting with each other. I wondered if they got the irony. Sitting inside a public space to stop people protesting against the destruction of public spaces. At one end of the square, about 6 or 7 busses were lined up (check out the cover image), with police sitting in them, chatting and laughing. It terrified me.
The only people who outnumbered the police were tourists. Most of them spent their time taking photos of the police vans. It was kind of strange to watch – a sort of ‘protest tourism’. I saw two particular guys taking shots with different poses in front of the van – “here I am being tough in front of a police van”. People getting their photos in front of a grass-roots struggle.
In the whole square I only saw one protester. A woman chanting in a garden by herself. She kept getting stopped by passer-bys to have a chat. I couldn’t manage to catch her however.
I couldn’t help but wonder what was going on. It felt like the police were relishing in a victory. They were there and the protesters weren’t. They had successfully managed to keep them at bay. Yet, at the same time, I get the sense that they were preparing for the next step. It is midday on Sunday – not necessarily high-time for protest action (remember that weekends here are Friday and Saturday). But maybe there will be more tonight. Let’s see.**
* I actually wrote this piece yesterday, but because of some Internet problems am only posting it now.
** Update: There was more and seems like there will be more in the future. I am now at GPS and we are getting a briefing on the movement tomorrow. I hope to interview some people too. I will update you then.