I
Khaleefah Abdul-Majid I, Sultan of the Ottoman Empire, which would later be broken up by the British and French empires.
t has none of the show and glamour of a Paris, Rome or Barcelona, and it lacks the shadowy mood of a Prague or Vienna, but it pleased me with its sense of easy calm, and the casual way in which it balances the ancient and the modern, its clean, vibrant centre set against a crumbling periphery still wealthy with remnants of its Hatti, Hittite, Phrygian and even Roman past. Touched by King Midas and conquered by Alexander the Great, this is ground that has known life virtually since life began. The winds of change have shaped the faces of its rock, but the rock itself endures.
As someone deeply fascinated by antiquity, my heart beats loudest when I can stand and listen to ancient places. Yet as rich in story as Ankara might be, it remains, in essence, a stacking of dirt, stone and sky. What truly gives this place life is its people; it is they who make for a history worth recalling.
Ireland and Turkey lie a continent apart, but while we might look and sound different, and while our minds might be shaped by different troubles, we breathe the same air. What I found in the Turkish people I met were the traits that I'd always assumed defined Irishness: the open-hearted embrace for a stranger, an interest in his journey and a desire to understand his background. Most of all, the hospitality of a warm and friendly welcome.
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