Diyarbakir is an ancient city with a very troubled recent past. Located in the southeastern corner of Turkey, it is mostly Kurdish territory. It was the center of the struggles between the PKK (Kurdish Workers Party) and the Turkish Army during the 1980’s and 90’s. While it has been rebuilding and moving on in recent years, it was one of the places targeted by a bomb in a recent wave of attacks.

The city itself is an ancient one, and like most old cities around here it has been occupied and battled over by numerous cultures and civilizations for most of its long history. It sits in what used to be known as Mesopotamia, with the Tigris River skirting around the Eastern part of the old city. The city’s most prominent feature is the tall, black basalt wall forming a ring only broken by gates around the old quarter of the city. The walls are dotted with towers, and there are inscriptions in both Latin and Arabic. The walls are thought to be from Roman times, but were restored during the Byzantine period.

Inside the walls is a throbbing, crowded city with a very Middle Eastern flair. There are more poor people here than we’ve seen so far in Turkey, and the skies have been cloudy and the weather a little cold, making it seem depressed. The crowded streets are dirty, the air filled with exhaust by the heavy traffic. Still, it’s exciting walking down the streets, which are always bustling with shoppers, vendors and the like. The trend of long, curious or indifferent stares continues, leading us to believe that not many travelers make it here. There are street children everywhere, some trying to sell tissues or some other trinket, others simply walking around shoeless and asking for money.

There are several beautiful mosques in the old quarter, all constructed out of the same dark, chunky basalt found in the city’s walls. There are also a few old churches from various Christian sects, but they are largely unused and have fallen into disrepair as the people who would worship in them have long since departed. The bazaars and street markets are interesting and packed, but we find ourselves wary of walking around the city for too long. We were told in Sanliurfa to watch our belongings here because of the many thieves on the streets, and upon arrival were promptly told by two separate locals to beware of the same thing. The LP warns of attempted robberies when walking along the walls as well.

Despite its seemingly gloomy appearance, we met some really nice people during our time in Diyarbakir. The people at our hotel were particularly friendly, and on the way back from Mardin we met some really nice Kurds on the mini-bus. Just knowing the one word, “spas,” (which means thank you) got us lots of warm smiles. One man on the bus gave us his card and told us to call him if we needed anything, and the driver kept trying to talk to us even though he couldn’t speak any English and we don’t know Turkish or Kurdish. When we got off the bus and I said, “Spas!” he lit up and put his hand over his heart, smiling and looking like the happiest man in the world. As we started walking down the street towards our hotel he honked the horn and waved as he drove off.