Istanbul?
Trip Start
Aug 31, 2007
1
51
90
Trip End
Apr 19, 2008
Skopje,
Macedonia
Monday, November 12, 2007
But enough on Eastern European heating customs. The real story of today is Skopje's old town. I venture out into the snow-dappled world from the perfectly acceptable Hostel Hostel, amidst my hostess' protests that my hair is still slightly wet and it's cold out. Yes, thank you ma'am, but you see, I go to school in Canada. It's not too cold for wet hair until it freezes in a matter of seconds, and even then, if I'm late for class, I'll make an exception. Don't you worry. I won't catch my death of pneumonia on your watch. See? The sun's coming out.
It's a decent walk to the main square, where I cross the Karmen Most (bridge) to the Carsija (old town). Everything already sounds so much more exotic in Skopje. It was on this bridge that in 1689, Karposh, the leader of a great uprising against the Ottomans (the perennial bad guys in this part of the world, it seems) was executed, as plaque bears witness to, to this day.
Macedonian Water Fountain
On the bridge, an old man is doing a trick: the usual hide a ball under one of three identical boxes, move the boxes around very quickly, then have someone guess which box the ball is under. He seems to be making a fair bit of money off his crowd's incorrect guesses, too. He's certainly more successful than the other merchants on the bridge, peddling skin-tight exercise shirts or knee braces.My first stop in Carsija is Sveti Dimitrija, a lovely 1886 Orthodox church, where I say a morning prayer. The icons are less inundated with smoke than those in Sofia and there's a marvelous spiral staircase leading to the pulpit. Back outside, I stop to look at some postcards. A man approaches me, wanting to polish my hiking boots. Right...I politely decline and get my first inklings of Istanbul circa 1994, when my parents paid street men to shine my sister's and my sneakers, much to our delight. Of course, our shoes didn't sparkle afterwards, but we didn't care. It was the idea that mattered.
Heading deeper into Carsija, I pass barber shops where men are getting their morning shaves, and countless bakeries selling ring-shaped bread and baklava. The smells are fantastic. A multitude of mosques poke minarets into the sky, a significant portion of the population having converted to Islam during centuries of Ottoman occupation. I also chance on several more ancient churches before hitting a street lined with jewelery stores. A man rushes out of one, carrying a tray of empty Turkish coffees and I am reminded of Istanbul once more, my mother and I sitting in similar jewelery store thirteen years ago, she drinking the coffee, I drinking the Coke the owner has provided, as the price of her gold necklace continues to drop, finally reaching a level acceptable to both parties.
Mosque
Skopje's old town is certainly bringing back more memories than I had anticipated.I eventually come to the bazaar, selling baskets, shoes, walking sticks, paint brushes, and green onion stalks as big as bamboo. At 11 on a Monday, the market is far from bustling, but the music pulsing out from the CD stalls does its best to create an atmosphere. It is different from the music I have encountered on this trip so far, too, many Arab influences conspiring to contribute more to the exotic feeling of the morning.
Leaving the market, I head for the Cifte Amam, an old Turkish bath turned art gallery. The modern art inside veritably bursts with colour and having read of the bath's layout outside, wandering the rooms is particularly interesting. I especially enjoy the parts where the white plaster has been kept away, keeping the old clay and brick visible. In the middle ages, the baths were open to men, women, and Jews, each having their own bathing areas, the wealthy being able to afford private rooms while commoners bathed in large communal pools.
Climbing a series of narrow alleyways, I reach Sveti Spas, a church built below ground so as to not violate the law requiring that churches not be taller than mosques. The sign on the door clearly states that they are closed on Mondays, but the door's open, so I go in anyway, figuring if I'm not supposed to be there, someone will tell me. I find the courtyard around the church most enjoyable and sit for a while, simply soaking up the atmosphere. The trees, stone, and wood combine to create a truly lovely setting.
The final Carsija stop for me is the ruins of Tvrdina Kale, the old city fort, rising on a hill above Carsija. They afford good views of the rest of Skopje, but I am wary of two men who seem to be lingering around me in the all-but deserted place, and don't stay long. I've had no threats to my safety so far this trip, and the men are probably fine, but it's always better to go with your gut in such matters.
Back at the hostel, I recruit two Kiwis (New Zealanders, the first I've met this trip, oddly enough) to come to Ohrid with me and see Macedonia's idyllic summer resort town. We'll see how idyllic it is in November...
Skopje's Prague Factor:
With its melange of churches and mosques, Skopje would do better to compete for "New Istanbul" if only it weren't so much smaller than that city. That said, I really liked Macedonia's capital, its vendor lined bridge and its labryinthine streets, and I think if you moved Prague south and eat, this is what you'd get. 65%.
