Istanbul: Looking at the Galata Tower from the Bosphorus Strait in Istanbul, I couldn't help but be reminded of Kathmandu's Dharahara. Both towers, standing nine stories tall, share a striking similarity in height: Galata at 66.9 meters, just slightly taller than Dharahara's 61.8 meters. Dharahara, also known as Bhimsen Tower, was Kathmandu's tallest structure when it was built in 1832, much like the conical-shaped Galata was for Istanbul when it was constructed in 1348. Both towers preside over a cluster of tightly packed houses and buildings in the heart of their respective cities.
While Kathmandu’s Dharahara may not boast the architectural grandeur of the Galata Tower, the resemblance between these two ancient cities goes beyond their towers.
To start with, writers and poets sometimes invoke Kathmandu’s past through historical names like “Kantipur” and “Kasthamandup”, to evoke the city’s former beauty, similar to how Istanbul is often referred to as “Constantinople.” (The Istanbul guidebook I was carrying mentioned a certain Lale Pudding Shop in the Divanyolu neighborhood, calling it the “fabled halfway point to Kathmandu of '60s hippie lore”).
And just as Kathmandu is known as the City of Gods, with its hundreds of beautiful temples, shrines, stupas, and monasteries in ancient city squares, palaces, narrow alleyways, and street corners, Istanbul is known as the City of Mosques. The first thing that strikes visitors to Istanbul is the imposing, visually stunning domes and edifices of mosques that dot the city. This former imperial city, which served as the capital of four empires – Megarian, Roman, Byzantine, and Ottoman – and stands at the crossroads of various civilizations, boasts a remarkable 3,113 mosques, minarets, and madrasas.
The most famous of all is the Sultan Ahmet Mosque, built in 1616 and popularly known as the “Blue Mosque” for the blue tiles adorning the walls of its magnificent interior. We marveled at the grandiose structure, with its main dome, six needle-like minarets that pierce the sky, and eight secondary domes. Equally majestic is the Byzantine-era cathedral turned mosque, the Hagia Sophia. Nearby, we explored the Basilica Cistern, the Egyptian obelisk, minarets, and the sprawling majesty of the Topkapi Palace, the former royal residence of the Ottoman sultans. Now a museum, it houses the finest treasures of the Ottoman era and important relics of the Muslim world.
Walking past the narrow, sometimes cobblestone streets that run along Hippodrome Square, we arrived at the famous labyrinth of the Grand Bazaar. Only trams occasionally disrupted the pedestrianized streets of Istiklal Caddesi and Bahariye in Kadikoy. This made me imagine how wonderful it would be if the old quarters of Kathmandu and Patan—the historical Durbar Squares in the two cities, as well as New Road and Thamel—were also free from the irritation of motorbikes, cars, and their incessant beeping horns.
Those pedestrianized streets are just some of the things Kathmandu could learn from Istanbul,” remarked a friend who splits his time each year between the US, Istanbul, and Kathmandu.
Heeding his advice, I took a small ferry from Galata Bridge on the Golden Horn to the Bosphorus, which flows toward the Black Sea. We sailed past Galata Tower, St. Antoine Church, the majestic and graceful Dolmabahce Palace, and a vibrant tapestry of other architectural marvels. These were interspersed with a colorful mix of houses, apartments, and hotels lining both the European and Asian sides of the city, rising and falling with the rolling hills.
“Back in 2000, you couldn’t get within a hundred yards of the Golden Horn because of the stench—way worse than the Bagmati," my friend recounted. "Now, it’s transformed into a thing of beauty!” He was right. The sparkling blue of the Golden Horn and Bosphorus, under a bright sun, seemed to beckon the seagulls soaring low and swift against the clear, blue sky.
As the ferry ride neared its end, the red sun dipped below the horizon, casting an orange glow on the giant mosques. Neon signs flickered to life, welcoming the night, while the melodic call to prayer echoed from the New Mosque.
A scene of frenetic energy unfolded around Galata Bridge. A human torrent crisscrossed the walkway, while vehicles below snarled in rush-hour gridlock. The aroma of fish wafted from the bevy of restaurants lining the lower deck in this city at the crossroads of East and West. Here, in Istanbul, the irresistible mix of European and Asian cultures truly converged.
Turkish Delight
If Istanbul, the ‘mystical capital of the Orient,’ got me equating the city with Kathmandu—with its location between the ancient civilizations of India and China, fostering a distinct form of art, culture, and mysticism—I was also tempted to compare Nepal and Turkey side by side to appreciate the similarities between the two countries.
Nepal’s geography reveals a narrow, brick-shaped territory nestled between two of the world’s most populous countries, India and China, which are also economic and military superpowers of the 21st century. Turkey, on the other hand, is a bulky, elongated rectangle located at the crossroads of Europe and Asia. This strategic positioning makes both Nepal and Turkey countries of significant geopolitical importance.
But the similarity is not limited to geography alone. Both Nepali and Turkish people pepper their everyday language with Persian words. According to an article in a leading weekly paper in Kathmandu, until 50 years ago, the word for ‘holiday’ in Nepali was the Turkic word ‘tatil’.
Turkey is renowned for its rich variety of cuisines and is considered a country with some of the best food. Much like any Nepali, Turkish people also enjoy dahl (called dal in Nepali), a lentil soup, before relishing a delicious rice dish like pilav (pulao). With a penchant for sweets, Turkish people often conclude their meals with an assortment of sweet confections such as Turkish delight and helva (halwa in Nepali).
Grills like kebabs are popular in Turkey, much like in Nepal. Moreover, Turkish hospitality mirrors the unassuming generosity found in Nepali households: Guests are often overwhelmed with kindness as dish after dish is served, and Turkish hosts typically insist that guests accept their offerings. Similarly, like in Nepal, Turkish people generally do not allow shoes to be worn inside the house.
Rags to Riches
Once dubbed the ‘Sick man of Europe’, Turkey’s remarkable ascent from the ruins of the Great Ottoman Empire, which collapsed in the mid-19th century, to its current status as an economic powerhouse is truly astounding. Despite being a predominantly Muslim country, Turkey underwent a profound transformation under its revered and visionary leader, Kemal Atatürk. He steered the nation away from its Ottoman past and instituted radical reforms that established a secular and forward-looking republic.
In many ways, Turkey’s journey from adversity to prosperity mirrors the resilience and dynamism seen in Nepal, both nations drawing strength from their cultural legacies and strategic locations
