İstanbul [1/1]
Title: İstanbul
Series: Hetalia
Characters/Pairing: Japan, Turkey/Greece
Rating: PG13
Date: Written today
Status: complete
And So... Turkey and Greece show Japan around Istanbul (not Constantinople) and memories lurk around every corner.
Notes: This isn't one of those "Show me on the doll where Turkey hit you" fics. I like to write them as people with equally big axes to grind. Just... getting that out there.
o1.
"It's ten o'clock. Where are you. The bazaar opened an hour ago."
"Shuttup, don't think I don't know what time my own bazaar opens!" Behind Turkey's voice there was a crash and a curse. "Fukkin' alarm didn't go off, just wait--"
"Tch," Greece clicked his tongue behind his teeth. "Were you drinking with Netherlands last night because his team won?"
"N-no!"
"Japan's going to get bored waiting at the gate for you, idiot."
"Greece-san, it's okay, I'm--"
Another scuffle in the background. "Damn it! Look, I just gotta find my pants--"
"I do not need to hear about your state of undress, thank you."
"Just show him around for a bit and I'll meet ya both there!"
Beside Greece on the bench, Japan was looking at him with that slight crease of worry between his brows. Greece softened his tone--for Japan's sake--and cupped his phone closer to his mouth. "He wanted a tour from you, idiot; you said you know the Grand Bazaar better than anyone else."
"Well you can do it for an hour! Keep him happy!"
"I don't--"
"Don't even tell me you don't know how to get 'round it; I had to fukkin' chase you through it a million times!"
"That was five hundred years ago," Greece said between grit teeth. Japan just stared blankly at that, head cocking slightly to the side.
"You'll be fine." It sounded like Turkey was shoving a quick breakfast into his mouth, speaking between bites. "Just keep," munch, munch, "the main jewelry street in view and--"
"I know, I know." Greece pinched the bridge of his nose. He'd only come along to make sure Turkey didn't molest Japan; he hadn't been expecting to play tour guide in Istanbul, of all places... Too many memories. "Fine. Just call me when you get here."
"Great! See yo--"
Greece hung up on Turkey and turned to Japan, giving him what he hoped was a reassuring smile. "He's running late, but he'll be here soon. If he's smart enough to take the tram and not a taxi, of course."
"Oh. Should we just wait for Turkey-san?"
"I can give you a small tour until he gets here." Standing, Greece took Japan's hand and helped him off the bench. Kiku was decked out in his usual traveling attire; crisp khaki pants, short sleeved collared shirt with a jacket around his waist--just in case!--a satchel with the essentials, plus his Nikon snug and safe around his neck. He looked adorable; Turkey was missing out. "We'll stick to the main jewelry street for now and let him show you the more hidden areas."
"That sounds acceptable." Japan's face positively lit up as they finally headed to the market. "I read that there were over sixty indoor streets, and that the bazaar was built in the 1400s. Oh, isn't there another bazaar just for spices, Greece-san?"
Absolutely adorable. "There is; sometimes Egypt shops in that one, so we may run into him later. It sounds like you've done your research."
"I bought several guide books and highlighted a few pages that I found particularly interesting."
Greece ducked his head down, hiding his smile; he could just imagine a rainbow of pen marks and evenly placed sticky notes. "Show them to me over lunch."
They crossed under the large arch of a gate and stepped into the covered bazaar, sun suddenly blocked out by the tiled ceiling overhead. The market's scent hit Greece in a rush; he hadn't been inside of it in at least two hundred years, but it still held the same scent of copper and perfume, rugs and bolts of cloth. Greece froze, the shoppers elbowing and side-stepping past him--they were housewives and fishermen today, had been princes and artisans years ago, when he'd dodge between their legs and hide in the stores. When he was older, Greece would go to browse ceramics with Hungary, spices with Egypt, and with Turkey... With Turkey...
"Lokum, in rose, mint, lemon... Which do you want?"
Petulantly, Greece stuck out his chin and tested the waters: "All of them."
The Empire simply smirked at that, pulling the pouch of coins from his belt. "Go ahead; buy every last piece."
Greece licked his lips.
"...Greece-san?"
"I'm fine." He smiled. This was just a marketplace, nothing more. Nothing any longer. "Let's head this way."
o2.
They had been walking for about twenty minutes, Japan stopping at every other stall to snap a picture of lanterns and water urns, asking the storekeepers to pose with their wares. Calmly, Greece translated what he said and the storekeepers smiled, pulled their friends into the picture and posed for the Nikon. He studied their smiles as the Nikon flashed. The last time he'd been in here, Greece reflected sourly, he'd been regarded as something one would scrape off a shoe. Things had changed, apparently, and for the better.
"Greece-san? Do you know what these beads are? They're lovely."
"Hmm?" They were in a tiny shop with barely enough room to turn around in, a shelf of large, flat beads like eyes leering out at Greece. "Oh. Those are to ward off the mati."
"The...?"
"The evil eye, when someone looks at you with envy or jealousy. This gaze can curse you, cause bad omen. Plutarch compared it to shooting poison darts from the eyes. It's... why Turkey always wore that stupid mask, to keep his hidden from the evil eye."
Japan started at that, turning his attention from the amulet in his hand. "Is that so?"
Oh. He'd never told Japan that, had he? "Mmn. My mother was... very good at giving the evil eye, you could say." Taking the amulet from Japan's fingers, Greece turned the leering nazar over in his palm; the bead was flat and smooth, cool to the touch. "She got it from Egypt's mother, and in turn gave it to Italy's grandfather. Not that he didn't deserve it, of course."
"She sounds like an interesting woman, Greece-san."
Was Japan making a joke? Sometimes it was difficult to tell, but Greece let a smile tug at his lips regardless. "She was. I believe Turkey was scared, well, shitless of her when they first met," he said with just a hint of pride.
"Forgive me, but he had told me before that the mask was a gift from his first sultan."
Nodding, Greece set the nazar back to the shelf, fingers tracing over more of the protective amulets. "He did receive it from Osman; it's one of the three thi--" Greece suddenly stopped, frowned, still staring at the display of flat beads.
There was a slight cough from near his shoulder. "It was not my intention to pry, Greece-san. We may discuss something else."
"No, it's alright." But Greece's frown deepened. "I just... I usually don't speak about him this much." Without total malice in his voice, that was.
At his shoulder, Japan waited patiently.
"...Do you want me to continue?"
"If I am not prying."
Greece smiled, turning from the shelf. "You never pry. And I believe these are things that idiot would tell you if you asked him, anyway. Let's go to the next store; I doubt Taiwan would want one of these old things." Gently, he steered Japan from the shop, setting their slow pace down the indoor avenue. "As I was saying... The mask is one of three things Turkey has with him at all times, even if he's not wearing it."
"The bracelet is another one, isn't it?"
"The privateer Barbarossa gave him that." A pretty thing of amber beads, Greece had first seen the bracelet after Turkey's navy had defeated the Holy League and claimed the Mediterranean. "Or Admiral Barbarossa, rather; I think he was done being a pirate at that point. And then Turkey also keeps a photo of Atatürk in his wallet." Sometimes, when things got bad, he would catch Turkey looking at the black and white photograph thoughtfully under a table or behind a book. "He keeps those things with him always."
"There are things we all keep with us through night and day," Japan smiled softly. "Even if others cannot see them. Isn't that right?"
Greece rubbed at his left arm absently. "Whether we like it or not. Have you thought of anything Taiwan would like?"
"Jewelry and flowers are always good for her, but I'd like something unique, something that can only be found in this bazaar, if possible," Japan admitted, eyes darting all around the great hall. His fingers were clasped tightly around his camera. He was probably itching to take pictures of everything in sight, of the hanging lanterns in a myriad of color and jewel, the delicate tiles on the ceilings, of the people haggling for cheap rugs.
Greece saw a stall to his right, and something silver caught his eye, reminding him. But he hesitated just a moment before saying: "I believe I may know of something... unique. Follow me."
They stepped into a jewelry store and exchanged pleasantries with the owner and his wife, politely turning down tea when it was offered. Greece's eyes roamed over the shelves and glass cases, finally landing on a tray of silver and gold bands. "Here; these are a good gift. Very popular with the tourists."
Japan peered into the tray of rings. "And these are...?"
"Puzzle rings." Greece turned his back to the storekeeper and picked up one of the rings, letting it fall apart into four interlocked bands in his palm. "They're a bit tricky to put back together at first," he admitted, "but with practice..." Delicately, Greece lined up the two pointed circlets, twisting and turning the curved pair until the ring was whole again. "They can be put back together quickly."
"Amazing!" Japan studied the ring, gently taking it into his own fingers. "You did that so fast, Greece-san!"
Greece tried his hardest not to blush. "Um, here. They come with a little card of instructions; it even has an English translation on it."
"Thank you, I think this was just what I was looking for." Smiling, Japan selected one of the tiny cards, turning it over. "Ah! It has a story on the back too."
"A story?"
"Of how the rings came about." Japan let his eyes skim over the words, flickering back and forth. "It says that a long, long time ago... A Turkish noble requested that a ring be made for one of his lovers. I guess that makes sense," Japan smiled wryly. "If someone were to take off the ring it would go loose--"
"And fall apart," Greece murmured, eyes a little distant. "Proof of infidelity. Unless the lover was particularly good at puzzles."
"Just like you, Greece-san."
"Just like me." He forced a smile. "I'll tell the owner you want one, then we can go eat."
o3.
>>wherethe fuck are you?
>In your bazaar, idiot.
>>WHERE
>The cafe behind the lantern store.
>>k dont do anything stupid to him
>Like what
>>start talking about socrates and bore him to death
>Die.
>>:p
"Is that Turkey-san you're texting?"
"How could you tell," Greece muttered, shoving his phone back into his pocket.
"Your eyebrow twitches when you text him." Smiling, Japan took a sip of bitter tea. "And his lip curls up when he messages you."
Sometimes Japan was too perceptive. "I see."
"I... noticed, Greece-san, when I was purchasing that ring... you seemed unsettled."
Way, way too perceptive. "Hm."
Japan just sipped at his tea, waiting with that stare that impassively informed Greece he was going to tell Japan everything sooner or later. And Kiku didn't need to hear it right away, he could wait patiently if he had to--days, even--but eventually Greece would talk. And maybe it was just better to get it over with.
Greece's eyes flickered to the tiny box on the table. "It was a very, very long time ago. I stayed up all night, trying to put it back together."
Japan nodded, waiting.
"It just, well... Fell off, when I was bathing in the hammam." Greece shrugged, fiddling with his empty teacup. "The sweat, and the steam and... Well. Anyway. I was afraid of--worried, I guess--what he would think if he saw... But I figured it out, just as the sun began to set over the minarets. And I put it back on my finger before he returned."
A silence passed between them, the sounds of the bazaar filling the gap before Japan spoke softly, as one does to children--because, compared to Japan, Greece really was just a child. "Do you still have it? The original commission?"
"No," Greece said with a humorless laugh. "I threw it into the Bosphorus many years ago." Turkey had watched him do it.
"I see. How have things been recently between you and Turkey-san?"
"Fine. I mean, we keep talk to tourism and the economy... Fluff, really. It's--well. Forget it. You're on vacation, not a peace-keeping mission."
"What did you both used to talk about?"
Greece started and finally looked up from his cup. "What we used to...?"
"Pleasantly, I mean." Japan's eyes were earnest, his voice level. "I don't mean to pry--"
"You're allowed to pry; you're our--my friend." Greece cleared his throat. He felt light headed for some reason. "We... used to talk about poetry."
The hint of a smile flashed across Japan's face. "Poetry?"
"He loves it. He writes it, actually--and don't tell him I told you, it'll be an international incident. He's... good at it, to be fair, but gets embarrassed." Greece actually smiled at that. "I dug around his desk one afternoon and he caught me reading it; he looked ready to die. I can still remember some. I thought they were beautiful."
"Did you ever tell Turkey-san that?"
Greece rolled his eyes. "Absolutely no--"
"Tell me what?" The spare chair between Greece and Japan was pulled away roughly, Turkey taking his place at the table. "That you're sorry for calling it 'Greek Delight' all these years?"
"You know how to ruin a conversation," Greece muttered, heart skipping just a little bit faster. "Didn't Netherlands come with you?"
"Nah, still passed out on my sofa." Turkey signaled the tea-waiter and rambled off his order in a low growl, telling the poor çaycı exactly how he liked his tea.
Greece did not envy the waiter; he'd been in the man's position countless times. "Just drink your tea and be grateful for it," he muttered as the waiter left.
"Shuttup." Turkey smiled pleasantly at Japan. "How's your day been so far? Buy anything nice?"
"Ah, yes; Greece-san found a store with lovely rings--"
Turkey whistled low. "Some nice gold around here, isn't there? How low did you bargain it to?"
"Well, actually--"
"Japan doesn't like haggling, idiot." Greece signaled the waiter for a refill as he brought Turkey's order. He was going to need it. "It makes him uncomfortable."
"It's not that, I just--"
"Didn't haggle!" Turkey looked aghast. "Shit, I'll do it for you, why didn't you just say so? Brat, you shoulda done it for him, he coulda gotten a few Lira off at the very least."
"Really, Turkey-san, I don't mind paying the asking price--"
"Nononono." Turkey dropped a cube of sugar into his drink. "It's not just about the money; it's the rush you get from the back and forth, clinching it and wheedling the store owner down bit by bit! I'll do it for you when you get a rug, just watch and learn."
"Thank you, but I... wasn't planning on buying a rug."
Turkey nearly dropped his teacup.
"Here we go," Greece muttered, relieved when the waiter gave him a refill of dark, black tea. He pointedly went into a meditative state, only dimly aware of Turkey's rant about the superiority of Turkish carpets in both weave and color, craftsmanship and antiquity. Greece checked his watch; the bazaar closed in six hours. Maybe Turkey would be done by then. Or maybe not.
o4.
"Greece-san, should I be taking notes on this? On haggling?"
"...maybe," Greece admitted, popping another treat into his mouth. They were both seated at a small table filled with food and drink, rugs cascading around the store as the men had unfurled them for Japan's inspection. Even though, honestly, it was Turkey who nodded or shook his head. Finally they'd narrowed it down to one rug--and it was very nice, Greece had to say; Turkey had always had a good eye for carpets. Greece used to lounge around on them to read and write, spurning a desk and chair for their soft fibers and vibrant colors.
"He likes haggling, doesn't he?"
"Arguing too," Greece noted wryly. He could tell by the bead of sweat on the storekeeper's brow that Turkey had almost sealed the deal--and at half price, no less. Finally, after pretending to mull it over in his brain, Turkey reluctantly nodded and shook the storekeeper's hand, much to the man's relief. "They're done."
Turkey clapped his hands together, grin as big as the carpet he'd just secured. "Go give him the little card with your hotel address on it and he'll ship it over. This guy's good, no funny business."
"Ah, thank you, Turkey-san."
"Idiot; Japan didn't even want a rug in the first place."
Turkey took Japan's vacant seat and scoffed: "Everyone wants a carpet; they just don't realize it at first."
Admittedly, Japan had looked excited when the whole process began. Even now as he went through the paperwork for the carpet, there was a slight twinkle in his eyes. "You could have just given him one of the ones at your house; you have too many."
"Says you. So what did he end up buying before I got here?"
Greece almost flinched when Turkey opened up the ring box.
"...one of these, eh?" Turkey stared at it for a moment before shutting the lid.
"Yeah. For Taiwan."
"Hopefully she won't throw hers into the East China Sea."
Something hardened in the pit of Greece's stomach. "As long as he doesn't give her a reason to."
"I doubt there's ever a good enough reason to do something like that."
That was how it always started. Like they were stacking a house of cards, one new level after another until it finally crashed down.
Greece continued to watch Japan with the storekeeper, his eyes turned away from Turkey. "I'm not arguing with you in front of him."
A soft snort. "Ditto." Turkey's voice brightened when Japan turned back to them, receipt and delivery confirmation form secure in his hands. "That's a nice carpet--you chose well!"
Japan smiled a bit at that. "I couldn't have done it without your help, Turkey-san."
"Happy to assist. What else did you want to do today?"
Japan was already reaching for one of his guidebooks, a plethora of sticky notes peeking out of the pages. "Well, I don't want to trouble you..."
"Nah, I've got the whole day off."
"Me too." Greece ignored Turkey's glare at that. "Show me a page."
"To be honest, if it's not a lot of trouble--"
"It's not," Greece and Turkey both said.
"But I don't want to impose--"
"No one knows this city better than I do," Turkey said with a too-sweet smile.
"I was here first," Greece muttered.
"Well, if you're sure you won't mind..." Lost in his own thoughts, Japan finally found his page and laid the book on the table with a hopeful smile. "I really would love to go to here." The title of the page was circled in yellow ink: Topkapı Sarayı, the medieval palace of the Ottoman Sultans.
Greece kept his face straight even as his brain began to throb at the mere sight of the palace in the book. Though, it was some consolation that Turkey's stomach probably pitched at the sight of it. Greece knew Turkey hadn't been inside that building since the 1920s, since it was decreed a museum and nothing more. And Greece hadn't been inside of it for even longer.
"Sure. Yeah. I... we can go there," Turkey said pleasantly enough. Greece could fell his leg moving frantically under the table. "Take the tram..."
"Could take a taxi to Taksim Square," Greece heard himself mumble. "Then walk the rest of the way."
"Yeah. Could do that too." Turkey shut the guidebook. "Let's go."
Hesitantly, Japan looked between them both before nodding, shoving the book back into his satchel.
o5.
The ride over had been fine enough, Turkey pointing out sights and buildings to Japan as they rode in the taxi. Japan was probably too busy worrying for his life in Istanbul traffic, and Greece was too lost in his thoughts to point out all the flaws in what Turkey was saying. So no one was listening to Turkey, but, Greece knew, he was mostly talking to himself at this point anyway. He knew the mask was in Turkey's ugly coat's pocket; he was probably itching to put it on.
They finally got out of the taxi, Japan breathing a sigh of relief, and made their way up to the palace, white towers peeking out over the park and ramparts. Turkey muttered something about knowing a guy and to wait at the gate--its two towers gazing silently at Greece--and he walked off.
Greece stared at the palace, his chest constricted and his head light. He had watched it built with the finest materials, Mehmed's workmen the most skilled Greece had ever seen. He had lived there, when he didn't run to the mountains for peace and meditation, and stayed up long nights in the enormous kitchens and libraries. He had watched the sun set on the sea below the towers and had his breath taken away every time.
"I need to sit down," he mumbled, and all but staggered to a vacant bench at the edge of grass. Greece sat, leaned forward, elbows on his knees. It was too difficult to even look at the palace, even the slight glimpse of its innards just beyond the gate.
"Greece-san?" Japan crouched down before the bench, face etched in genuine worry. "Are you alright?"
"I'm not. I'm sorry," Greece shook his head. "I can't go in there."
"I... We will go somewhere else, Gree--"
"No. No, you should see it; it's beautiful inside. You will never see anything more beautiful," Greece confessed with a hoarse laugh. "I can wait. Please go."
"I got three tickets from that guy and--...what's wrong?" From the edge of his vision, Greece saw Turkey's boots stop before him.
"Ah, Greece-san isn't feeling well. I think we should--"
"Just go inside," Greece said gently. "It's alright, Kiku. I mean it. Please."
"...I understand." Japan stood. "Please call me if you need anything." And then both sets of feet walked away, Turkey's hesitating just a moment.
Greece took a deep, shaking breath and finally looked up, leaning back on the bench.
He couldn't do it. It had been... almost two hundred years since he'd last set foot inside the palace. And it wasn't even a palace any longer, he shouldn't feel oppressed by it. Really, if he were honest with himself, he didn't feel that way--oppressed, that was. He felt... sad. Haunted. There were too many ghosts there, both pleasant and miserable. The pleasant ones were worse. Greece frowned and sat on the bench, trying to analyze his feelings and thoughts for a long time before someone sat down next to him and jolted him from his meditation.
"I sent Japan with that guy I know," Turkey said gruffly. "'s gonna get him ahead of the line, show him around VIP style. Two hours, or until his camera runs out of memory, I'd guess."
Greece nodded. "I'm sure he has extra memory cards in his bag."
"Till the battery dies then."
A moment of quiet stretched too thin between them. "Why did you come back? You could have left me here, I'm fine."
"Feels fukkin' stupid to have to pay to get into my old house."
"I can see the logic in that, sadly."
"Hmn." Turkey bit at his thumbnail. His hood was up, shadowing his face as best it could.
"You wish you had your mask on right now, don't you?" Greece asked softly.
"Like you don't even fucking know." Turkey grunted, his leg shaking again. "But I promised him I wouldn't wear it again in public. Not after I became a republic."
"Do you still keep his photo in your wallet?"
"Yeah." Turkey didn't even bother to pretend to be surprised that Greece knew. "Yeah, I do. Can't forget the past."
Greece stared out and watched the tourists walking towards the gate; the sultan had been the only one allowed to ride a horse through it, and that seemed to hold true even today.
How could he even explain himself?
"If I..." Greece swallowed, started again. "If I had gone in there and seen the armory displays, and saw the Janissary armor I used to wear to fight..." Greece shook his head slowly, eyes going a little distant. "I don't know what I would have done." He really didn't. Some days his arm still throbbed where he'd all but stabbed away the tattoo of his former squadron, marking him as an Ottoman soldier.
"If I saw the room we used to sleep in, I'd have turned around and come back to this bench anyway," Turkey said with a shrug. "Can't blame you. Shit's weird."
Greece smiled ruefully, finally daring to glance over at the former Empire. "Do you think there's anyone as pathetic as us?"
"I ain't ever asked. We've had seven hundred years to love and fight one another. 's too much."
Sometimes it was less like stacking up cards and more like digging, finding things that were forgotten and hidden beneath dirt. Like buried treasure; like buried corpses.
"I'm not sorry for throwing that ring into the sea."
"And I ain't sorry for giving it to you."
Greece's heart began to hammer. "Did you ever actually love me as I am?" He already knew the truth. It was easier to forget it some days.
There was a long pause before Turkey gave him the closest thing to an answer Greece could have hoped for: "I will never let someone break my heart like you broke mine. Never again."
They sat in silence until Japan returned, all apologies and flushed excitement. Their silence wasn't awkward or static; it just was. And they put on their fake smiles for the taxi ride home, Greece unsure if something had finally mended or broken, wondering what the difference was anyway.
o6.
"...and over there--look, Japan, this way--is a really good restaurant--"
"It's not that good," Greece muttered.
"Yeah it is! Would Tarkan eat there if it wasn't?"
Now Greece had to roll his eyes. "You saw Tarkan."
"Yeah!"
Greece raised an eyebrow.
"Or... a guy that looked a lot like Tarkan."
"Mmmhm."
The taxi came to a stop at the hotel doors and Japan wriggled his way out of the car after Greece. "You two are very funny together."
"You don't mean that," Greece deadpanned.
"Oh, I do, Greece-san. I do."
From inside the taxi, Turkey called out, "Hey whaddya want to do tomorrow?"
"Perhaps you can both meet me at that restaurant for lunch?"
"Ah, well..." Greece rubbed the back of his neck. "I may just go home tonight."
"I see." Japan glanced into the taxi. "But if you do stay, please come tomorrow, Greece-san."
"...I'll think about it."
"Good night," Japan said with a bow. "Thank you both for your help."
"'Night."
"Good night." Greece watched him walk into the hotel and reluctantly climbed back into the cab.
"Thought youda gotten in another cab."
"Not if you're paying."
"I'm still telling him to go to my place."
Something in Greece's stomach turned over. "...that's fine."
"Hmph." Turkey gave the driver directions and they were silent for the rest of the ride.
o7.
"Fucker took all of my cigarettes," Turkey muttered, lighting the last one and tossing the package aside.
"Who?"
"Netherlands. Didn't even leave a note."
"Mmn." Slowly, Greece rolled over, his head moving up Turkey's thigh to his hip. The television was on, but neither of them were really paying it any mind. It was shitty late-late night programing anyway, and he hadn't consumed enough rakı to find it interesting. "Do you still write poetry?"
"...is this a trick?"
Greece grabbed a pillow from the floor and hit Turkey's knee with it. "No, I'm just asking."
"Maybe."
"I knew it," Greece yawned. "You still do."
"Shaddap."
"Do you still whisper to me when I fall asleep?"
There was a thick exhale of smoke. "I think you're drunk."
"I heard you, when I was little. And older. That's how I figured out you wrote poetry."
"Just go to sleep. Don't cause a scene."
Greece snorted. "We're not in front of anyone." But still he turned over and buried his face into Turkey's shirt.
Some time later--and he had no idea, because he really was drunk, damn him--Greece felt a blanket pulled over him, a whisper shushed over him: "I languish on sorrow's mountain; Where night and day I sigh and moan; Wondering what fate awaits me; With my beloved gone."
Greece slipped into slumber, strangely satisfied.
-------------
The grand bazaar
The evil eye in Turkey and nazar boncuğu
Tea culture in Turkey
Topkapi Palace
Atatürk
His principles, still revered by most Turks, include:
• Democracy
• Secularism
• Equality for women
• Freedom of Religion
• Free public co-educational schools
• "Peace at Home, Peace in the World"
• No dreams of territorial expansion (despite the Ottoman Empire's former greatness)
Atatürk's memory and legacy are revered and protected by law. Nobody in Turkey jokes about Atatürk.
Poem was written by sultan Süleyman the Magnificent when his wife Roxelana died.
You fucking Google Tarkan if you don't know who that glorious man is.
The Janissary were, in a nut shell, the sultan's personal army and consisted mainly of Christians, Greeks, Bulgarians... etc. Children were selected from a village for the Janissary and trained; a lot of the times parents were cool with it because it meant their kids could grow up to be pretty important people in the Ottoman government some day. Not to mention all that sexy war booty.
Randomly--and creepily--if you want to see some cool Istanbul pictures, check out this Flickr photostream.
Series: Hetalia
Characters/Pairing: Japan, Turkey/Greece
Rating: PG13
Date: Written today
Status: complete
And So... Turkey and Greece show Japan around Istanbul (not Constantinople) and memories lurk around every corner.
Notes: This isn't one of those "Show me on the doll where Turkey hit you" fics. I like to write them as people with equally big axes to grind. Just... getting that out there.
o1.
"It's ten o'clock. Where are you. The bazaar opened an hour ago."
"Shuttup, don't think I don't know what time my own bazaar opens!" Behind Turkey's voice there was a crash and a curse. "Fukkin' alarm didn't go off, just wait--"
"Tch," Greece clicked his tongue behind his teeth. "Were you drinking with Netherlands last night because his team won?"
"N-no!"
"Japan's going to get bored waiting at the gate for you, idiot."
"Greece-san, it's okay, I'm--"
Another scuffle in the background. "Damn it! Look, I just gotta find my pants--"
"I do not need to hear about your state of undress, thank you."
"Just show him around for a bit and I'll meet ya both there!"
Beside Greece on the bench, Japan was looking at him with that slight crease of worry between his brows. Greece softened his tone--for Japan's sake--and cupped his phone closer to his mouth. "He wanted a tour from you, idiot; you said you know the Grand Bazaar better than anyone else."
"Well you can do it for an hour! Keep him happy!"
"I don't--"
"Don't even tell me you don't know how to get 'round it; I had to fukkin' chase you through it a million times!"
"That was five hundred years ago," Greece said between grit teeth. Japan just stared blankly at that, head cocking slightly to the side.
"You'll be fine." It sounded like Turkey was shoving a quick breakfast into his mouth, speaking between bites. "Just keep," munch, munch, "the main jewelry street in view and--"
"I know, I know." Greece pinched the bridge of his nose. He'd only come along to make sure Turkey didn't molest Japan; he hadn't been expecting to play tour guide in Istanbul, of all places... Too many memories. "Fine. Just call me when you get here."
"Great! See yo--"
Greece hung up on Turkey and turned to Japan, giving him what he hoped was a reassuring smile. "He's running late, but he'll be here soon. If he's smart enough to take the tram and not a taxi, of course."
"Oh. Should we just wait for Turkey-san?"
"I can give you a small tour until he gets here." Standing, Greece took Japan's hand and helped him off the bench. Kiku was decked out in his usual traveling attire; crisp khaki pants, short sleeved collared shirt with a jacket around his waist--just in case!--a satchel with the essentials, plus his Nikon snug and safe around his neck. He looked adorable; Turkey was missing out. "We'll stick to the main jewelry street for now and let him show you the more hidden areas."
"That sounds acceptable." Japan's face positively lit up as they finally headed to the market. "I read that there were over sixty indoor streets, and that the bazaar was built in the 1400s. Oh, isn't there another bazaar just for spices, Greece-san?"
Absolutely adorable. "There is; sometimes Egypt shops in that one, so we may run into him later. It sounds like you've done your research."
"I bought several guide books and highlighted a few pages that I found particularly interesting."
Greece ducked his head down, hiding his smile; he could just imagine a rainbow of pen marks and evenly placed sticky notes. "Show them to me over lunch."
They crossed under the large arch of a gate and stepped into the covered bazaar, sun suddenly blocked out by the tiled ceiling overhead. The market's scent hit Greece in a rush; he hadn't been inside of it in at least two hundred years, but it still held the same scent of copper and perfume, rugs and bolts of cloth. Greece froze, the shoppers elbowing and side-stepping past him--they were housewives and fishermen today, had been princes and artisans years ago, when he'd dodge between their legs and hide in the stores. When he was older, Greece would go to browse ceramics with Hungary, spices with Egypt, and with Turkey... With Turkey...
"Lokum, in rose, mint, lemon... Which do you want?"
Petulantly, Greece stuck out his chin and tested the waters: "All of them."
The Empire simply smirked at that, pulling the pouch of coins from his belt. "Go ahead; buy every last piece."
Greece licked his lips.
"...Greece-san?"
"I'm fine." He smiled. This was just a marketplace, nothing more. Nothing any longer. "Let's head this way."
o2.
They had been walking for about twenty minutes, Japan stopping at every other stall to snap a picture of lanterns and water urns, asking the storekeepers to pose with their wares. Calmly, Greece translated what he said and the storekeepers smiled, pulled their friends into the picture and posed for the Nikon. He studied their smiles as the Nikon flashed. The last time he'd been in here, Greece reflected sourly, he'd been regarded as something one would scrape off a shoe. Things had changed, apparently, and for the better.
"Greece-san? Do you know what these beads are? They're lovely."
"Hmm?" They were in a tiny shop with barely enough room to turn around in, a shelf of large, flat beads like eyes leering out at Greece. "Oh. Those are to ward off the mati."
"The...?"
"The evil eye, when someone looks at you with envy or jealousy. This gaze can curse you, cause bad omen. Plutarch compared it to shooting poison darts from the eyes. It's... why Turkey always wore that stupid mask, to keep his hidden from the evil eye."
Japan started at that, turning his attention from the amulet in his hand. "Is that so?"
Oh. He'd never told Japan that, had he? "Mmn. My mother was... very good at giving the evil eye, you could say." Taking the amulet from Japan's fingers, Greece turned the leering nazar over in his palm; the bead was flat and smooth, cool to the touch. "She got it from Egypt's mother, and in turn gave it to Italy's grandfather. Not that he didn't deserve it, of course."
"She sounds like an interesting woman, Greece-san."
Was Japan making a joke? Sometimes it was difficult to tell, but Greece let a smile tug at his lips regardless. "She was. I believe Turkey was scared, well, shitless of her when they first met," he said with just a hint of pride.
"Forgive me, but he had told me before that the mask was a gift from his first sultan."
Nodding, Greece set the nazar back to the shelf, fingers tracing over more of the protective amulets. "He did receive it from Osman; it's one of the three thi--" Greece suddenly stopped, frowned, still staring at the display of flat beads.
There was a slight cough from near his shoulder. "It was not my intention to pry, Greece-san. We may discuss something else."
"No, it's alright." But Greece's frown deepened. "I just... I usually don't speak about him this much." Without total malice in his voice, that was.
At his shoulder, Japan waited patiently.
"...Do you want me to continue?"
"If I am not prying."
Greece smiled, turning from the shelf. "You never pry. And I believe these are things that idiot would tell you if you asked him, anyway. Let's go to the next store; I doubt Taiwan would want one of these old things." Gently, he steered Japan from the shop, setting their slow pace down the indoor avenue. "As I was saying... The mask is one of three things Turkey has with him at all times, even if he's not wearing it."
"The bracelet is another one, isn't it?"
"The privateer Barbarossa gave him that." A pretty thing of amber beads, Greece had first seen the bracelet after Turkey's navy had defeated the Holy League and claimed the Mediterranean. "Or Admiral Barbarossa, rather; I think he was done being a pirate at that point. And then Turkey also keeps a photo of Atatürk in his wallet." Sometimes, when things got bad, he would catch Turkey looking at the black and white photograph thoughtfully under a table or behind a book. "He keeps those things with him always."
"There are things we all keep with us through night and day," Japan smiled softly. "Even if others cannot see them. Isn't that right?"
Greece rubbed at his left arm absently. "Whether we like it or not. Have you thought of anything Taiwan would like?"
"Jewelry and flowers are always good for her, but I'd like something unique, something that can only be found in this bazaar, if possible," Japan admitted, eyes darting all around the great hall. His fingers were clasped tightly around his camera. He was probably itching to take pictures of everything in sight, of the hanging lanterns in a myriad of color and jewel, the delicate tiles on the ceilings, of the people haggling for cheap rugs.
Greece saw a stall to his right, and something silver caught his eye, reminding him. But he hesitated just a moment before saying: "I believe I may know of something... unique. Follow me."
They stepped into a jewelry store and exchanged pleasantries with the owner and his wife, politely turning down tea when it was offered. Greece's eyes roamed over the shelves and glass cases, finally landing on a tray of silver and gold bands. "Here; these are a good gift. Very popular with the tourists."
Japan peered into the tray of rings. "And these are...?"
"Puzzle rings." Greece turned his back to the storekeeper and picked up one of the rings, letting it fall apart into four interlocked bands in his palm. "They're a bit tricky to put back together at first," he admitted, "but with practice..." Delicately, Greece lined up the two pointed circlets, twisting and turning the curved pair until the ring was whole again. "They can be put back together quickly."
"Amazing!" Japan studied the ring, gently taking it into his own fingers. "You did that so fast, Greece-san!"
Greece tried his hardest not to blush. "Um, here. They come with a little card of instructions; it even has an English translation on it."
"Thank you, I think this was just what I was looking for." Smiling, Japan selected one of the tiny cards, turning it over. "Ah! It has a story on the back too."
"A story?"
"Of how the rings came about." Japan let his eyes skim over the words, flickering back and forth. "It says that a long, long time ago... A Turkish noble requested that a ring be made for one of his lovers. I guess that makes sense," Japan smiled wryly. "If someone were to take off the ring it would go loose--"
"And fall apart," Greece murmured, eyes a little distant. "Proof of infidelity. Unless the lover was particularly good at puzzles."
"Just like you, Greece-san."
"Just like me." He forced a smile. "I'll tell the owner you want one, then we can go eat."
o3.
>>wherethe fuck are you?
>In your bazaar, idiot.
>>WHERE
>The cafe behind the lantern store.
>>k dont do anything stupid to him
>Like what
>>start talking about socrates and bore him to death
>Die.
>>:p
"Is that Turkey-san you're texting?"
"How could you tell," Greece muttered, shoving his phone back into his pocket.
"Your eyebrow twitches when you text him." Smiling, Japan took a sip of bitter tea. "And his lip curls up when he messages you."
Sometimes Japan was too perceptive. "I see."
"I... noticed, Greece-san, when I was purchasing that ring... you seemed unsettled."
Way, way too perceptive. "Hm."
Japan just sipped at his tea, waiting with that stare that impassively informed Greece he was going to tell Japan everything sooner or later. And Kiku didn't need to hear it right away, he could wait patiently if he had to--days, even--but eventually Greece would talk. And maybe it was just better to get it over with.
Greece's eyes flickered to the tiny box on the table. "It was a very, very long time ago. I stayed up all night, trying to put it back together."
Japan nodded, waiting.
"It just, well... Fell off, when I was bathing in the hammam." Greece shrugged, fiddling with his empty teacup. "The sweat, and the steam and... Well. Anyway. I was afraid of--worried, I guess--what he would think if he saw... But I figured it out, just as the sun began to set over the minarets. And I put it back on my finger before he returned."
A silence passed between them, the sounds of the bazaar filling the gap before Japan spoke softly, as one does to children--because, compared to Japan, Greece really was just a child. "Do you still have it? The original commission?"
"No," Greece said with a humorless laugh. "I threw it into the Bosphorus many years ago." Turkey had watched him do it.
"I see. How have things been recently between you and Turkey-san?"
"Fine. I mean, we keep talk to tourism and the economy... Fluff, really. It's--well. Forget it. You're on vacation, not a peace-keeping mission."
"What did you both used to talk about?"
Greece started and finally looked up from his cup. "What we used to...?"
"Pleasantly, I mean." Japan's eyes were earnest, his voice level. "I don't mean to pry--"
"You're allowed to pry; you're our--my friend." Greece cleared his throat. He felt light headed for some reason. "We... used to talk about poetry."
The hint of a smile flashed across Japan's face. "Poetry?"
"He loves it. He writes it, actually--and don't tell him I told you, it'll be an international incident. He's... good at it, to be fair, but gets embarrassed." Greece actually smiled at that. "I dug around his desk one afternoon and he caught me reading it; he looked ready to die. I can still remember some. I thought they were beautiful."
"Did you ever tell Turkey-san that?"
Greece rolled his eyes. "Absolutely no--"
"Tell me what?" The spare chair between Greece and Japan was pulled away roughly, Turkey taking his place at the table. "That you're sorry for calling it 'Greek Delight' all these years?"
"You know how to ruin a conversation," Greece muttered, heart skipping just a little bit faster. "Didn't Netherlands come with you?"
"Nah, still passed out on my sofa." Turkey signaled the tea-waiter and rambled off his order in a low growl, telling the poor çaycı exactly how he liked his tea.
Greece did not envy the waiter; he'd been in the man's position countless times. "Just drink your tea and be grateful for it," he muttered as the waiter left.
"Shuttup." Turkey smiled pleasantly at Japan. "How's your day been so far? Buy anything nice?"
"Ah, yes; Greece-san found a store with lovely rings--"
Turkey whistled low. "Some nice gold around here, isn't there? How low did you bargain it to?"
"Well, actually--"
"Japan doesn't like haggling, idiot." Greece signaled the waiter for a refill as he brought Turkey's order. He was going to need it. "It makes him uncomfortable."
"It's not that, I just--"
"Didn't haggle!" Turkey looked aghast. "Shit, I'll do it for you, why didn't you just say so? Brat, you shoulda done it for him, he coulda gotten a few Lira off at the very least."
"Really, Turkey-san, I don't mind paying the asking price--"
"Nononono." Turkey dropped a cube of sugar into his drink. "It's not just about the money; it's the rush you get from the back and forth, clinching it and wheedling the store owner down bit by bit! I'll do it for you when you get a rug, just watch and learn."
"Thank you, but I... wasn't planning on buying a rug."
Turkey nearly dropped his teacup.
"Here we go," Greece muttered, relieved when the waiter gave him a refill of dark, black tea. He pointedly went into a meditative state, only dimly aware of Turkey's rant about the superiority of Turkish carpets in both weave and color, craftsmanship and antiquity. Greece checked his watch; the bazaar closed in six hours. Maybe Turkey would be done by then. Or maybe not.
o4.
"Greece-san, should I be taking notes on this? On haggling?"
"...maybe," Greece admitted, popping another treat into his mouth. They were both seated at a small table filled with food and drink, rugs cascading around the store as the men had unfurled them for Japan's inspection. Even though, honestly, it was Turkey who nodded or shook his head. Finally they'd narrowed it down to one rug--and it was very nice, Greece had to say; Turkey had always had a good eye for carpets. Greece used to lounge around on them to read and write, spurning a desk and chair for their soft fibers and vibrant colors.
"He likes haggling, doesn't he?"
"Arguing too," Greece noted wryly. He could tell by the bead of sweat on the storekeeper's brow that Turkey had almost sealed the deal--and at half price, no less. Finally, after pretending to mull it over in his brain, Turkey reluctantly nodded and shook the storekeeper's hand, much to the man's relief. "They're done."
Turkey clapped his hands together, grin as big as the carpet he'd just secured. "Go give him the little card with your hotel address on it and he'll ship it over. This guy's good, no funny business."
"Ah, thank you, Turkey-san."
"Idiot; Japan didn't even want a rug in the first place."
Turkey took Japan's vacant seat and scoffed: "Everyone wants a carpet; they just don't realize it at first."
Admittedly, Japan had looked excited when the whole process began. Even now as he went through the paperwork for the carpet, there was a slight twinkle in his eyes. "You could have just given him one of the ones at your house; you have too many."
"Says you. So what did he end up buying before I got here?"
Greece almost flinched when Turkey opened up the ring box.
"...one of these, eh?" Turkey stared at it for a moment before shutting the lid.
"Yeah. For Taiwan."
"Hopefully she won't throw hers into the East China Sea."
Something hardened in the pit of Greece's stomach. "As long as he doesn't give her a reason to."
"I doubt there's ever a good enough reason to do something like that."
That was how it always started. Like they were stacking a house of cards, one new level after another until it finally crashed down.
Greece continued to watch Japan with the storekeeper, his eyes turned away from Turkey. "I'm not arguing with you in front of him."
A soft snort. "Ditto." Turkey's voice brightened when Japan turned back to them, receipt and delivery confirmation form secure in his hands. "That's a nice carpet--you chose well!"
Japan smiled a bit at that. "I couldn't have done it without your help, Turkey-san."
"Happy to assist. What else did you want to do today?"
Japan was already reaching for one of his guidebooks, a plethora of sticky notes peeking out of the pages. "Well, I don't want to trouble you..."
"Nah, I've got the whole day off."
"Me too." Greece ignored Turkey's glare at that. "Show me a page."
"To be honest, if it's not a lot of trouble--"
"It's not," Greece and Turkey both said.
"But I don't want to impose--"
"No one knows this city better than I do," Turkey said with a too-sweet smile.
"I was here first," Greece muttered.
"Well, if you're sure you won't mind..." Lost in his own thoughts, Japan finally found his page and laid the book on the table with a hopeful smile. "I really would love to go to here." The title of the page was circled in yellow ink: Topkapı Sarayı, the medieval palace of the Ottoman Sultans.
Greece kept his face straight even as his brain began to throb at the mere sight of the palace in the book. Though, it was some consolation that Turkey's stomach probably pitched at the sight of it. Greece knew Turkey hadn't been inside that building since the 1920s, since it was decreed a museum and nothing more. And Greece hadn't been inside of it for even longer.
"Sure. Yeah. I... we can go there," Turkey said pleasantly enough. Greece could fell his leg moving frantically under the table. "Take the tram..."
"Could take a taxi to Taksim Square," Greece heard himself mumble. "Then walk the rest of the way."
"Yeah. Could do that too." Turkey shut the guidebook. "Let's go."
Hesitantly, Japan looked between them both before nodding, shoving the book back into his satchel.
o5.
The ride over had been fine enough, Turkey pointing out sights and buildings to Japan as they rode in the taxi. Japan was probably too busy worrying for his life in Istanbul traffic, and Greece was too lost in his thoughts to point out all the flaws in what Turkey was saying. So no one was listening to Turkey, but, Greece knew, he was mostly talking to himself at this point anyway. He knew the mask was in Turkey's ugly coat's pocket; he was probably itching to put it on.
They finally got out of the taxi, Japan breathing a sigh of relief, and made their way up to the palace, white towers peeking out over the park and ramparts. Turkey muttered something about knowing a guy and to wait at the gate--its two towers gazing silently at Greece--and he walked off.
Greece stared at the palace, his chest constricted and his head light. He had watched it built with the finest materials, Mehmed's workmen the most skilled Greece had ever seen. He had lived there, when he didn't run to the mountains for peace and meditation, and stayed up long nights in the enormous kitchens and libraries. He had watched the sun set on the sea below the towers and had his breath taken away every time.
"I need to sit down," he mumbled, and all but staggered to a vacant bench at the edge of grass. Greece sat, leaned forward, elbows on his knees. It was too difficult to even look at the palace, even the slight glimpse of its innards just beyond the gate.
"Greece-san?" Japan crouched down before the bench, face etched in genuine worry. "Are you alright?"
"I'm not. I'm sorry," Greece shook his head. "I can't go in there."
"I... We will go somewhere else, Gree--"
"No. No, you should see it; it's beautiful inside. You will never see anything more beautiful," Greece confessed with a hoarse laugh. "I can wait. Please go."
"I got three tickets from that guy and--...what's wrong?" From the edge of his vision, Greece saw Turkey's boots stop before him.
"Ah, Greece-san isn't feeling well. I think we should--"
"Just go inside," Greece said gently. "It's alright, Kiku. I mean it. Please."
"...I understand." Japan stood. "Please call me if you need anything." And then both sets of feet walked away, Turkey's hesitating just a moment.
Greece took a deep, shaking breath and finally looked up, leaning back on the bench.
He couldn't do it. It had been... almost two hundred years since he'd last set foot inside the palace. And it wasn't even a palace any longer, he shouldn't feel oppressed by it. Really, if he were honest with himself, he didn't feel that way--oppressed, that was. He felt... sad. Haunted. There were too many ghosts there, both pleasant and miserable. The pleasant ones were worse. Greece frowned and sat on the bench, trying to analyze his feelings and thoughts for a long time before someone sat down next to him and jolted him from his meditation.
"I sent Japan with that guy I know," Turkey said gruffly. "'s gonna get him ahead of the line, show him around VIP style. Two hours, or until his camera runs out of memory, I'd guess."
Greece nodded. "I'm sure he has extra memory cards in his bag."
"Till the battery dies then."
A moment of quiet stretched too thin between them. "Why did you come back? You could have left me here, I'm fine."
"Feels fukkin' stupid to have to pay to get into my old house."
"I can see the logic in that, sadly."
"Hmn." Turkey bit at his thumbnail. His hood was up, shadowing his face as best it could.
"You wish you had your mask on right now, don't you?" Greece asked softly.
"Like you don't even fucking know." Turkey grunted, his leg shaking again. "But I promised him I wouldn't wear it again in public. Not after I became a republic."
"Do you still keep his photo in your wallet?"
"Yeah." Turkey didn't even bother to pretend to be surprised that Greece knew. "Yeah, I do. Can't forget the past."
Greece stared out and watched the tourists walking towards the gate; the sultan had been the only one allowed to ride a horse through it, and that seemed to hold true even today.
How could he even explain himself?
"If I..." Greece swallowed, started again. "If I had gone in there and seen the armory displays, and saw the Janissary armor I used to wear to fight..." Greece shook his head slowly, eyes going a little distant. "I don't know what I would have done." He really didn't. Some days his arm still throbbed where he'd all but stabbed away the tattoo of his former squadron, marking him as an Ottoman soldier.
"If I saw the room we used to sleep in, I'd have turned around and come back to this bench anyway," Turkey said with a shrug. "Can't blame you. Shit's weird."
Greece smiled ruefully, finally daring to glance over at the former Empire. "Do you think there's anyone as pathetic as us?"
"I ain't ever asked. We've had seven hundred years to love and fight one another. 's too much."
Sometimes it was less like stacking up cards and more like digging, finding things that were forgotten and hidden beneath dirt. Like buried treasure; like buried corpses.
"I'm not sorry for throwing that ring into the sea."
"And I ain't sorry for giving it to you."
Greece's heart began to hammer. "Did you ever actually love me as I am?" He already knew the truth. It was easier to forget it some days.
There was a long pause before Turkey gave him the closest thing to an answer Greece could have hoped for: "I will never let someone break my heart like you broke mine. Never again."
They sat in silence until Japan returned, all apologies and flushed excitement. Their silence wasn't awkward or static; it just was. And they put on their fake smiles for the taxi ride home, Greece unsure if something had finally mended or broken, wondering what the difference was anyway.
o6.
"...and over there--look, Japan, this way--is a really good restaurant--"
"It's not that good," Greece muttered.
"Yeah it is! Would Tarkan eat there if it wasn't?"
Now Greece had to roll his eyes. "You saw Tarkan."
"Yeah!"
Greece raised an eyebrow.
"Or... a guy that looked a lot like Tarkan."
"Mmmhm."
The taxi came to a stop at the hotel doors and Japan wriggled his way out of the car after Greece. "You two are very funny together."
"You don't mean that," Greece deadpanned.
"Oh, I do, Greece-san. I do."
From inside the taxi, Turkey called out, "Hey whaddya want to do tomorrow?"
"Perhaps you can both meet me at that restaurant for lunch?"
"Ah, well..." Greece rubbed the back of his neck. "I may just go home tonight."
"I see." Japan glanced into the taxi. "But if you do stay, please come tomorrow, Greece-san."
"...I'll think about it."
"Good night," Japan said with a bow. "Thank you both for your help."
"'Night."
"Good night." Greece watched him walk into the hotel and reluctantly climbed back into the cab.
"Thought youda gotten in another cab."
"Not if you're paying."
"I'm still telling him to go to my place."
Something in Greece's stomach turned over. "...that's fine."
"Hmph." Turkey gave the driver directions and they were silent for the rest of the ride.
o7.
"Fucker took all of my cigarettes," Turkey muttered, lighting the last one and tossing the package aside.
"Who?"
"Netherlands. Didn't even leave a note."
"Mmn." Slowly, Greece rolled over, his head moving up Turkey's thigh to his hip. The television was on, but neither of them were really paying it any mind. It was shitty late-late night programing anyway, and he hadn't consumed enough rakı to find it interesting. "Do you still write poetry?"
"...is this a trick?"
Greece grabbed a pillow from the floor and hit Turkey's knee with it. "No, I'm just asking."
"Maybe."
"I knew it," Greece yawned. "You still do."
"Shaddap."
"Do you still whisper to me when I fall asleep?"
There was a thick exhale of smoke. "I think you're drunk."
"I heard you, when I was little. And older. That's how I figured out you wrote poetry."
"Just go to sleep. Don't cause a scene."
Greece snorted. "We're not in front of anyone." But still he turned over and buried his face into Turkey's shirt.
Some time later--and he had no idea, because he really was drunk, damn him--Greece felt a blanket pulled over him, a whisper shushed over him: "I languish on sorrow's mountain; Where night and day I sigh and moan; Wondering what fate awaits me; With my beloved gone."
Greece slipped into slumber, strangely satisfied.
-------------
The grand bazaar
The evil eye in Turkey and nazar boncuğu
Tea culture in Turkey
Topkapi Palace
Atatürk
His principles, still revered by most Turks, include:
• Democracy
• Secularism
• Equality for women
• Freedom of Religion
• Free public co-educational schools
• "Peace at Home, Peace in the World"
• No dreams of territorial expansion (despite the Ottoman Empire's former greatness)
Atatürk's memory and legacy are revered and protected by law. Nobody in Turkey jokes about Atatürk.
Poem was written by sultan Süleyman the Magnificent when his wife Roxelana died.
You fucking Google Tarkan if you don't know who that glorious man is.
The Janissary were, in a nut shell, the sultan's personal army and consisted mainly of Christians, Greeks, Bulgarians... etc. Children were selected from a village for the Janissary and trained; a lot of the times parents were cool with it because it meant their kids could grow up to be pretty important people in the Ottoman government some day. Not to mention all that sexy war booty.
Randomly--and creepily--if you want to see some cool Istanbul pictures, check out this Flickr photostream.