On a damp morning in Istanbul, I pay a visit to Zeyrek Çinili Hamam, a recently unveiled museum in a 500-year-old public bathhouse that once echoed with the chatter of the Ottoman middle class. Getting there involves zigzagging through the winding cobbled streets of Zeyrek, one of four UNESCO World Heritage sites in Istanbul. It was a holy place 1,000 years ago, during the Byzantine Empire, but these days it's uncharted territory for most Istanbulites. Few people are out: only the odd chain-smoking vegetable vendor and some meandering octogenarians doing their grocery shopping. The fall air smells faintly of raw meat, thanks to the butchers who have long populated the neighborhood. Trying to make sense of Google Maps on my phone, I almost collide with several men haphazardly carrying a sheep carcass from a van. I am lost. Or at least I think I am, until I realize that I've passed the hammam four or five times without noticing its domed roof.
As happens so often in Istanbul, the past is staring right at me, even when I don't see it.
My first plane flight, when I was six months old, was to Turkey. Since then, I've visited Istanbul more times than I can count. I have hazy memories of summer trips to see relatives in the 1990s: spitting watermelon seeds into the Bosphorus with my cousins; crying on a stifling August day after being stung by a bee; getting brain freeze from a cherry dondurma; listening to "Careless Whisper" playing on a taxi radio.
My father's deep connection to the country kept us returning. He grew up in the southern city of Adana, where my grandfather Danış a handsome man I know only through photographs was once the mayor. Dad left for London at 19 to train as an architect, but our family home is lined with photographs and ephemera collected by the previous generations. Now 79, he says he still dreams in Turkish.
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Diese Geschichte stammt aus der September - October 2024-Ausgabe von Condé Nast Traveler US.
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Sands of Time - Sculpted by millennia, Chad is a place of ancient geology and epic grandeur. Aminatta Forna finds her place in it all
The 15,000-square-mile Ennedi Massif, in north-eastern Chad, is a plateau the size of Switzerland. Between 350 million and 500 million years ago, this part of the globe was an ocean. Then the ocean disappeared, leaving the sandstone floor exposed. The climate shifted from rain-soaked to arid. Sun, wind, and water sculpted the sandstone into a dramatic, desolate, unearthly landscape of gorges and valleys, inselbergs and stacks, towering tassili and natural arches. In the desert the delicate threads of life become apparent in trails of tiny footprints scattered across the sands: here, the tear-shaped tracks of a lizard; there, the dimpled prints of a gerbil.
Antiques Road Show - After buying a second home, in France, the designer Claire Vivier called up fellow designer Kate Berry to go on the ultimate shopping spree
When Los Angeles-based designer Clare Vivier began decorating the 19th-century house she'd bought in her husband's hometown of Saint-Calais, in France's Loire Valley, she had a particular aesthetic in mind. I love color and patterns but wanted something peaceful, so the intention was to create a dialogue between those two things, she says. She wanted the house to have a blend of contemporary pieces, antiques, and textiles from heritage maisons to create a space that, much like her namesake handbag and fashion label, channeled both California fun and French sophistication. She also knew that she wanted her longtime friend Kate Berry, a designer and creative director, to help her make it happen.
The Slow Road - Rather than rush from Tokyo to Kyoto by train, as most visitors to Japan do, Tom Vanderbilt chose to bike - coasting down country roads, spying snow monkeys, and refueling with hearty bowls of soba
Rather than rush from Tokyo to Kyoto by train, as most visitors to Japan do, Tom Vanderbilt chose to bike - coasting down country roads, spying snow monkeys, and refueling with hearty bowls of soba. At the peak of the day's heat, I pulled into the tiny hamlet of Hirase, in Japan's Gifu Prefecture. I'd just climbed a twisting, waterfall-lined road several thousand feet through Hakusan National Park before descending into the shimmering fantasy landscape of Shirakawa-go, an almost Tolkien-esque village (and UNESCO World Heritage Site) comprising centuries-old farmhouses with peaked thatch roofs.
SHAILENE WOODLEY on FIJI
I was in Suva, the capital of Fiji, making a film, and our crew took over half of the Grand Pacific Hotel.
easy does it
Beyond the bubble of Queenstown, New Zealand's majestic Otago region offers the kinds of adventures you can truly appreciate only by slowing down
gather round
The secret ingredient in Philadelphia's lauded food scene? The empathy of the locals behind it
THE PAST IS PRESENT
Beguilingly complex Istanbul has done a lot of soul-searching in recent years. Lale Arikoglu digs into the city's modern identity - while tracing the roots of her own
Creation Story
Modern-day craftspeople are bringing back traditional Arabian arts in Jeddah's Old Town of Al-Balad
Continental Drift
For her first trip to Africa, aboard an HX Hurtigruten cruise ship, Sarah Greaves Gabbadon confronts her assumptions about what a homeland means
On the Rise
With new hotels, climbing routes, and biking trails, Colorado's low-key, high-elevation Western Slope is ripe for adventure
