We were given the honour of sitting up the front with the driver on the trip to Doğubeyazıt. It was a dubious honour, given that the driver felt he owned both sides of the road and had not heard of speed limits, and also liked the heater to be on full bore for ten minutes every half hour. Nevertheless he certainly knew his domain and expertly drove around potholes and road defects and all the hairpin bends through the mountains. The weather deteriorated, with light drizzle becoming driving hail. The countryside changed from the gorgeous lake and river trees to spectacular, ranges with little or no vegetation. We were stopped a couple of times for army control checks, with others being asked to open their bags and a soldier checking inside the bus and under it using a mirror. The driver said that we would be OK and that the check was for the Turkish travellers. They all had to hand over their identity cards to be scrutinised.
We could see snow-streaked Mt Ararat, but not its peaks, which were shrouded in cloud. The mountain was some distance beyond Doğubeyazıt, where we would be staying, but it certainly dominated the scene. When the bus stopped and the driver indicated to get off, we were met by a young man offering a cheap hotel. Although we had an address already, we had not made a booking, so we followed him to a narrow doorway right beside the hotel we had the information about. The men running the hotel were very friendly and the room was fine, so we stayed.
After lunch we set off with Rojap, from the hotel, who was to be our guide, taking a taxi to see the Ishak Pasha Palace. The palace is in very good repair and some parts have been restored. This palace was begun in 1685 by Colak Abdi Pasha and finished 99 years later by his son, Ishak, who was a Kurdish chieftain. Ishak Pasha was the second most important person, after the sultan, and ran a very strict regime. He regularly filled his dungeons with those who differed in their ideas or who had committed crimes. The palace has intricate stone work and plenty of it, in different styles, but it all fits together well to our untrained eyes.
When we paid for our entry, I read the notice giving the regulations governing who can have free entry to monuments and historical places in Turkey. It seemed endless, including all students and teachers, war veterans and the widows and orphans of martyrs and veterans, powerless lone citizens over 65, international students, members of the ministry and their families and the handicapped.
When the palace was in use, soldiers would have guarded the gate and checked on everyone’s reason for entering. The first courtyard was immense. Near the entrance was an ornate fountain with two pipes, and in the days of Ishak Pasha, one ran with water and the other with milk. Women from the nearby village kept it supplied. 
A large room for visitors to wait, while the person they had come to see was fetched, opened off the courtyard. The dungeons below were reached by steps and were extensive. Some large cells had no light source, only a chute leading down from the courtyard.To enter the second courtyard you needed to pass two more sets of guards. After the first guard you might be diverted into the more ancient caravanserai, which accommodated visitors and merchants. If the second guard considered that your business was legitimate, i.e. if you were family or a special guest, you were admitted to the second courtyard, where a grand tomb for Ishak Pasha now stands in one corner. It is flanked by two other tombs for his parents, which looked a little like large kennels.
The second courtyard opens to the haremlik (women’s quarters) and the selamlik (public and male quarters).
Carved lions on the gateway to the haremlik were said to indicate that you would have to have the heart of a lion to pass without permission, and the carved swords told you that if you did, you would be killed. Just in case the symbolism was lost on you, real guards with real swords would have barred your way. Inside were an enormous kitchen and a small bathhouse with hot and cold sections. The palace had hot and cold water, underfloor central heating, and drainage for water and the indoor toilets. Windows were glazed, although the glass was fairly opaque. Every room had its own fireplace and bookshelves, along with glorious views over the valley and the village. A full scale, very beautiful mosque had two major sections – the larger one for men and a smaller one for children – as well as a balcony for the women. Rojap sat where the Imam would have sat to deliver sermons. Despite many visits to mosques, I had not previously realised that the Imam sat down to read and speak.
The second courtyard opens to the haremlik (women’s quarters) and the selamlik (public and male quarters).Carved lions on the gateway to the haremlik were said to indicate that you would have to have the heart of a lion to pass without permission, and the carved swords told you that if you did, you would be killed. Just in case the symbolism was lost on you, real guards with real swords would have barred your way. Inside were an enormous kitchen and a small bathhouse with hot and cold sections. The palace had hot and cold water, underfloor central heating, and drainage for water and the indoor toilets. Windows were glazed, although the glass was fairly opaque. Every room had its own fireplace and bookshelves, along with glorious views over the valley and the village. A full scale, very beautiful mosque had two major sections – the larger one for men and a smaller one for children – as well as a balcony for the women. Rojap sat where the Imam would have sat to deliver sermons. Despite many visits to mosques, I had not previously realised that the Imam sat down to read and speak.
The selamlik started with an extensive library, with many rooms with built in bookshelves and fire places. It opened onto a terrace with carved wooden beams extending beyond the stone walls. They depict a man, with a lion above and an eagle above that. It is to depict man as the ruler, taking characteristics from those other rulers of the animals and the air. Keith and Rojap confidently stood near the edge of the terrace, looking out over the ruins of Old Doğubeyazıt, which was only abandoned in the 1930s to create a new town down on the plain. Leaning further you could see the tomb of Ahmed-i Hani, a poet and thinker who was very famous and much respected, and in the same league as Aristotle.Rojap told the story of a fighter pilot who was in the area and realised that he did not have enough fuel to return to Istanbul. He knew nothing of the poet prior to the trip, but was amazed when he appeared before him and assured him that he would have enough fuel to return. He flew back and was ok.
Also across the valley on a nearby hill was the ancient mosque and some ruins of a fortress, but we didn’t visit them.
The reception hall was large and grand, but best of all was the dining hall, which naturally only men ate in. The women looked out of open windows onto the men feasting below, using the mirrors opposite them to anticipate the diners’ every need without having to be called.
We strolled back in the brisk air, luckily immune from the storms of the morning. Rojap was a very interesting person who is currently studying to be a French and English teacher. To hear him speak of teaching as being a very important and honourable profession certainly made any jaded feelings that we may have had at times, seem petty. He has a little daughter, born in April, and is studying off-campus, while working at the hotel. He explained some of the concerns that Kurdish people have and his feelings about the way that things have gone. He certainly relieves that there is peace at the moment. Rojap has nine brothers and ten sisters – his father has three wives. It seemed that every time we were introduced to a new arrival at the hotel, it was another brother.
The hills we were walking through had many sections with rocks with a greenish tinge. It looked as if we were in a story that had asked the characters to cross the thousand folds of the unending treeless mountains in search of the Pasha’s palace, and in that story most seekers are lost in the green folds and perish.
A man sat on top of a peak, surveying the scene. The new village started along the way with houses in fairly poor shape and children who ran out and asked us for pens.
Our attempts to use the hotel wireless internet failed so Rojap called in his friend who is a computer student. He was amazing – fiddled and fixed everything. Another brother arrived and took over the reception job.
We went to the café over the road for tea. We met two men there; one a guide for trekking up Mt Ararat and one a man who had helped to set up a cooperative for women to sell their handicrafts. Osman explained that not all families will give their daughters permission to work away from home, so he provides the materials and equipment for them to work at home. Other girls come in to workshops. He believed that, apart from providing the opportunity for economic benefit, that the girls were able to see something of the wider world. He felt that Kurdish areas had been neglected by the government with, school attendance being an area where it is obvious. Osman said that about 70% of Kurdish children don’t attend school. He himself had not been to school. Either there is no school close enough for village children to attend, or economic circumstances prevented the purchase of books and other requirements and thus attendance. I recalled the village children asking us for pens. Child labour is rife – we have seen it everywhere in eastern Turkey – and many families depend on the labour their children do in watching herds, or the income they make in selling things, delivering tea, cleaning shoes or begging.
By the time we had left, the men had told us of interesting things to do in the nearby area and, once again, we wished we had more time. We would definitely like to return to Doğubeyazıt.
Also across the valley on a nearby hill was the ancient mosque and some ruins of a fortress, but we didn’t visit them.
The reception hall was large and grand, but best of all was the dining hall, which naturally only men ate in. The women looked out of open windows onto the men feasting below, using the mirrors opposite them to anticipate the diners’ every need without having to be called.
We strolled back in the brisk air, luckily immune from the storms of the morning. Rojap was a very interesting person who is currently studying to be a French and English teacher. To hear him speak of teaching as being a very important and honourable profession certainly made any jaded feelings that we may have had at times, seem petty. He has a little daughter, born in April, and is studying off-campus, while working at the hotel. He explained some of the concerns that Kurdish people have and his feelings about the way that things have gone. He certainly relieves that there is peace at the moment. Rojap has nine brothers and ten sisters – his father has three wives. It seemed that every time we were introduced to a new arrival at the hotel, it was another brother.The hills we were walking through had many sections with rocks with a greenish tinge. It looked as if we were in a story that had asked the characters to cross the thousand folds of the unending treeless mountains in search of the Pasha’s palace, and in that story most seekers are lost in the green folds and perish.
A man sat on top of a peak, surveying the scene. The new village started along the way with houses in fairly poor shape and children who ran out and asked us for pens.Our attempts to use the hotel wireless internet failed so Rojap called in his friend who is a computer student. He was amazing – fiddled and fixed everything. Another brother arrived and took over the reception job.
We went to the café over the road for tea. We met two men there; one a guide for trekking up Mt Ararat and one a man who had helped to set up a cooperative for women to sell their handicrafts. Osman explained that not all families will give their daughters permission to work away from home, so he provides the materials and equipment for them to work at home. Other girls come in to workshops. He believed that, apart from providing the opportunity for economic benefit, that the girls were able to see something of the wider world. He felt that Kurdish areas had been neglected by the government with, school attendance being an area where it is obvious. Osman said that about 70% of Kurdish children don’t attend school. He himself had not been to school. Either there is no school close enough for village children to attend, or economic circumstances prevented the purchase of books and other requirements and thus attendance. I recalled the village children asking us for pens. Child labour is rife – we have seen it everywhere in eastern Turkey – and many families depend on the labour their children do in watching herds, or the income they make in selling things, delivering tea, cleaning shoes or begging.
By the time we had left, the men had told us of interesting things to do in the nearby area and, once again, we wished we had more time. We would definitely like to return to Doğubeyazıt.
Claimed to be the world's first 'squat' toilet - a design not much changed over three hundred years and still very much in use in many parts of Turkey, including many of the hotels in wich we have.
This large sculpture in Van is unusual in that it depicts a woman doing day to day work (grinding) and she wears a headscarf that does not fully hide her hair.
No comments:
Post a Comment