Up all night in Kurtuluş: Notes on the energy of a 24-hour neighborhood
Neighborhoods that never sleep possess a kinetic energy which makes residing in them a constant source of inspiration in spite (or perhaps because) of the chaos and noise.
On certain evenings in Kurtuluş during late spring or late summer, when an ebullient breeze sweeps through the remains of a muggy day, there is a palpable energy in the air. After the sun sets, and the last rush of pedestrians make their way home from work, the streets are buzzing and you can feel this energy physically surging through your body, if you are open to it.
This is hard to describe in words, but in a 24-hour neighborhood in the heart of a 24-hour city when the weather is nice and people are out and about, the atmosphere becomes one of endless possibility, a force of inspiration with new opportunities for confrontation and reflection around every corner. Among the most centrally-located areas in Istanbul, Kurtuluş is as sleepless as it is diverse. Home to immigrants from all corners of the globe in addition to significant numbers of Istanbul’s historic non-Muslim communities, (most buildings on certain streets in Kurtuluş, including mine, are home to at least one Armenian, Greek, and/or Jewish family) the cosmopolitan character of the area does not fade when the sun goes down.
There are no Bosphorus views, few trees and limited spaces to breathe in Kurtuluş. In fact, within the entire central area of Şişli between Osmanbey and Mecidiyeköy, the only significant green spaces are Christian and Jewish Cemeteries, while the only large green area between Feriköy, Kurtuluş and all the way to the popular Maçka Park (which falls in the district of Beşiktaş) is a Muslim cemetery. There are only the tiniest of parks scattered throughout the dense maze of Şişli and they do little to provide respite from the urban sprawl.
Beginning with Eşref Efendi Street and heading west, there are about half a dozen streets running parallel to one another that loom straight ahead on nearly level ground for hundreds of meters, a rarity in Istanbul. This fairly orderly grid system and the blocks within it form the heart of Kurtuluş, a flat, navigable area with intense hills on multiple sides to the south and west and stretches of dense commercial areas to the north and east.
When Kurtuluş Avenue ends and Kurtuluş Son Durak begins, it becomes a different world, where shabbier apartments on more crowded and narrow streets sit on a much smaller flat piece of land in the Yenişehir neighborhood. Just below is Dolapdere, which has undergone an aggressive gentrification process that has displaced much of its Roma population, though a number of streets in the hilly quarter retain their old character, and there are even Ottoman-era wooden buildings that are still inhabited. The (in)famous flea market that comes alive before dawn in the early hours of Sunday morning is still a weekly event on the lower streets of Dolapdere.
After wandering around Kurtuluş and its neighboring areas for nearly a decade now, I find myself making discoveries almost daily, even if its just a hand-painted apartment sign, an elegantly-designed wrought iron door or one of the old blue street signs that hasn’t been stripped down and replaced by one of its considerably-less charming red counterparts. One particularly thrilling find was this gem of a historic single-story home pictured below on Perihan Street in Bomonti, built more than a century ago and likely still inhabited, based on the curtains hanging behind the windows. Even at night, its baby-blue hue was shining like diamonds. It is these types of buildings that are in threat of demolition in favor of soulless five-story modern apartments, and just a handful of them remain.
It can be hard to explain why I’ve lived here for so long, depending on who is asking. But visitors from places where one has to get in a car and drive ten minutes for anything they need usually get it. Within a two or three minute walk from my apartment there are restaurants, cafes, supermarkets, pharmacies, liquor stores, bakeries, hardware stores, barbershops. Anything I could ask for is just around the corner.
I think about how appealing this type of life is in spite of the drawbacks as I blearily sip ezogelin çorbası and ayran at 3 AM at a restaurant that won’t close for two more hours. I’m sleepless and worried about money and the future, but I walk home with a full stomach. Scooters zip by in opposing directions, perhaps with delivery orders from the multiple liquor stores that are open around the clock, and the streetlights flicker until sunrise. You are never alone with your thoughts here. Kurtuluş is up all night, there are people out and about at every hour, and something is always open. With all of that comes an energy that seems unthinkable to leave behind.
This is beautiful. I wrote this in 2010. It reminded me why I wrote it: https://www.city-journal.org/article/weimar-istanbul
Someday I’ll get back to Istanbul, Claire. My first (and only) visit, in 1987, was filled with small pleasures like taking the Tünel every morning—completely unnecessary, superfluous, and thus joyful . It’s also been too long since I was in Paris. But I appreciate its middle-agedness and going to sleep at a decent hour.