There are some districts of Istanbul; they are not kilometers apart, but ages apart.
Yesterday I felt it again. Below is Balat, above is Çarşamba... There is only 600 meters between them, but sometimes when you walk that road, you feel like you are passing through a 600-year time tunnel.
Yesterday, my wife and I first went to the famous Armenian church in Balat. It was the fortieth day of Easter. The day of that church is always different. There are stories that have been told for years; they say that those who do not see see, those who do not hear hear hear, those who do not walk walk walk. Some believe it, some call it a legend, but there is definitely something about that atmosphere that penetrates you. The smell of candles mixed with silence, the echo of prayers, the hope in people's eyes... It is like another time in Istanbul.
We prayed, lit candles, sat for a while. Then we started walking to go to the exhibition at Yuvakimyon Girls“ School. Balat has turned into a completely different place in recent years. ”Historical pastry shops" that have no history, pancake shops on every corner, shops selling artificial nostalgia... It is as if some places are now selling the photographs of the neighborhood, not its soul. Pastries everywhere, decor everywhere. The real Istanbul sometimes gets lost among the signs.
Then we turned to Çarşamba, and it was as if we were in another country. The language of the streets changed, the way people walked changed, the shop windows changed, the rhythm of life changed. The fact that two such different worlds can stand side by side in the same district, on the same few streets, is really unique to Istanbul.
But the most important thing is this: They are all our people. They are all part of this country. The old Armenian aunt in Balat is also ours, the bearded shopkeeper in Çarşamba is also ours. The point is not to look alike; it is to respect each other's existence in the same city.
This is exactly what keeps Istanbul alive. Not being uniform, but being able to live together with differences. Because this city is like marbling... The colors are not alike, but they all gain meaning in the same water.