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CHAPTER 7 – ERGENEKON 
213 
neighbourhoods of Istanbul had been cut off from us since the armistice. 
(…) You cannot come across any Turkish word on the shopfronts lined 
up there. You cannot see the crescent and star flag waving on the 
entrance of any building other than the police station. Some pictures in 
the tram which indicate neighbourhoods have been painted blue and 
white. (…) The assistants in the shops who understood Turkish very well 
replied in French. But God! what French - the French of the Greeks… 
(…) Last night I was invited at a friend’s who lives in Galata - in the area 
of Kuleli. In the middle of the alien voices coming from outside and the 
alien views I saw through the window in front of me, I thought I had just 
come down to a hotel in a busy street of Marseilles, Naples or Piraeus. 
When I looked at the lights of the area opposite I could not think it 
possible that Istanbul was so near. I stood all night finding my 
surroundings very strange like a traveller from a far away place. So much 
so that when in the morning the echo of the voice ascending from the 
street “Sâlep is boiling!” reached my ears. I was stunned as if it was 
falling from the clouds. I could not think it possible that the voice I was 
hearing was a Turkish voice. 
Almost exactly the same feeling is expressed when the Greek army enters the village 
in 
Yaban
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The village air is filled with a strange racket. A group of human voices 
begins to mingle with the rattle of iron, hooves, and wagons—just like 
the voices I heard in my nightmare: “Vire, Staso, vire pallikari—and 
similar sounds.
In this genuinely Turkish village—this untouched, secluded, lonely 
corner of Anatolia—there is suddenly the hubbub of Piraeus harbor.
Not one word of Turkish is heard.
(…) Then a voice in Turkish: “Hey, isn’t there anyone in this village?”
But this was such Turkish that it reminded me of Galata. I can’t say for 
sure that it was said with a Greek accent. Perhaps the one who yelled was 
an Armenian or Jew. But there is something sad in Turkish being spoken 
in that way—so shrivelled and broken!
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Karaosmanoğlu 2006, 156, Jacobson 197-198 

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