We came to Istanbul to find explanations of its many dichotomies: the melding of Eastern and Western cultures and lifestyles, how obvious modernity melds with centuries of traditions, and how a secular society functions in the midst of obvious Muslim piety.
Istanbul has proven itself a master of reinvention. First Byzantium, then Constantinople and finally the city we know today, the history books tell us that as soon as one fell, another arose.
But the battle scars and remnants remain. One can trace the evolution in the standing structures and the stories of the residents. The result is a collection of contradictions.
And if that isn't enough of an edge, all of it—the whole city—could go, if Lady Luck isn't kind. Istanbul lies on a major fault line that could erupt anytime in the next 30 years.
Sure Istanbul is queen of reinvention, but with the multitude of concrete, non-flexible housing, what would be left to reinvent?
All this is enough reason, we thought, for National Geographic magazine to try our hand at illuminating what makes this place survive.
I arrived a day and a half before the rest of the editorial team—illustrations editor Bert Fox, photographer Alex Webb, and writer Rick Gore—thanks to my own misunderstanding of dates. Fine with me. I could get my bearings and conquer my jet lag.
My flight was an hour early so I roamed in sleep-deprived delirium around the international arrivals area searching for our fixer said to be wearing an NGS baseball cap. I was leery of getting to the hotel on my own.
Turkish sounds nothing like any language I could vaguely understand and, as an American woman traveling alone, I didn't trust a taxi ride, nor did I have any Turkish lire. After accepting that I was stuck—perhaps until Rick and Bert landed a day later—I sat down to a cup of tea.
Midsip, a burst of energy came bouncing in my direction. I spied a black baseball hat attached to Aydin Kudu, a former tour guide who'd been working for the Geographic as an editorial consultant and a magician of sorts when it comes to all things Turkey. Most importantly, he spoke the language and had a car.
After I checked-in and napped, Aydin introduced me to his town. Well, hardly a town with more than 12 million residents, centuries of history and enough geography that it straddles both Europe and Asia, the only city in the world to do so.
