SMYRNA: THE “INFIDEL CITY” OF TURKEY.

Dunstan Times, Issue 3146, 4 December 1922, Page 7

SMYRNA: THE “INFIDEL CITY” OF TURKEY.

(From a Correspondent of the Age.) The sun sinks in a golden glory, the beautiful autumn day is over; there will bo a brief half hour, during which an observant eye may revel in the magnificent color effects of a Levantine sky, efo the dark pall of night creeps with gathering gloom from the east and obliterates the splendor. The last rays of the sinking sun are reflected upon the unruffled surface of the Gulf of Smyrna .transforming and causing it to shine like a mirror of gold. The fleecy clouds which have been wafted across the pale blue sky are glorified by the color tints of an Eastern sunset; how soft and exquisite they appear, gold merging into crimson and orange, blue and purple trailing off to the horizon and the blackness of night. On the other side of the gulf, ami separated by about four miles of water, lies the suburban village of Cordelio, named, according to tradition, after the English King Richard Coeur de Lion, who made it a place of call during his crusades in the Holy Land. The beams of the sinking sun arc reflected from the windows of the Cordelio cafes and houses, and they shine with a fierce white light, the dazzling brilliancy of which, once observed, attracts and repels.

The Esplanade, or Guay, as it is commonly called, is the principal street of Smyrna. The last caravan of camels has passed slowly along this thoroughfare, for after sunset no merchandise is permitted here, and no vehicles except the private conveyances owned by the wealthy Europeans who have piila-tial houses here. No doubt in some parts of its four-mile length Eastern methods of comemrce. Eastern costumes and customs may still be observed at this hour, hut in the European portion of it they have vanished at sunset. Earlier in the day one could have seen the long files of slow and ungainly camels, laden with bundles of tobacco or liquorice root, or perhaps sacks of grain or valonia. The last quaint procession has padded softly out of sight, a small donkey precedes, the ragged camel driver astride, his uuslippered feet nearly touching the ground, his greasy fez almost concealed by a dirty cloth ground like a turban, nunchulant-.lv smoking a cigarette. To the saddle of tho donkey a, rope is fastened, and it then secured t)h the camel. Iho first is tied to the second camel, the second to the third, and so on to the fifth or sixth; the last animal invariably has a copper bell attached, which clangs as the animal walks, this keeping the camel driver informed, with tho minimum exertion on Ids part, that tho last camel is keeping Ins appointed place in the caravan. r l lie whole procession reminds one irresistibly of a string of barges gliding, slowly and surely, preceded by a fussy little tug; the connecting ropes seem to make the resemblance more real, as all the ropes are taut, and one could imagine that they were actually being towed. But they have all disappeared, and so have all the sumbre-dressed boded and closely veiled Turkish women, for, in spite ol all the changes and the effect of modern thought, in liirkey, the Turk still refuses to allow his woman folk to look out on the world, and in public they must still wear the “yashmak,” or heavy veil. At tins hour the camels have given place to the rubber-tyred Victoria and smart equipped phaeton, and the Turkish woman has retired before her Greek sister with the headgear montrositv. of the bare arms, low neck and 'hi-di skirt. ”

Midway between the residential and business portions of the quay and theatres, cates and other places of amusement are situated. At the hour of sunset it presents an animated and interesting scene. After the exertion of an afternoon’s shopping, European and Greek ladies seek the relaxation of the picture show, or the creature comforts ol the cafes. Smartly groomed men irom the offices, having laid aside the cares of business, saunter along with their lady friends. The antiquated one-horse tram ears crawl lazily along the single track; on the side nearest) the sea swarthy and sunburnt Turkish laborers unload slabs of marble from a large sailing boat, and place them m picturesque confusion in the middle of the thoroughfare, where most probably they will lie for a week or so ere the owner takes them away. Cabmen drive their vehicles in the most erratic and careless fashion ; a, cab and Victoria, going in opposite directions. but on tin’ same side of tbe road, collide and become interlocked, an event so common that the occupants of tho machines do not allow it to interrupt their conversations, while the drivers exchange pleasantries in more or less forcible language, as is the custom of their fraternity the world over. Tho inoffensive pedestrian often finds himself sandwiched between wheels of various sizes, and his progression is a series of wild dashes to escape cabs and other vehicles, without mentioning the newer forms of locomotion. On Smyrna. (play the motor ear and cycle travel in comparative ease; the' novelty ol these machines has not yet grown stale, and a passage is quickly made lor them. Equestrian, vehicular and pedestrian traffic intermingle. The foot passenger must lind his way as best be can. There is, of course, a narrow pavement, presuiubaly intended for his use, but it is usually blocked with small tables and chairs —at any rate, in front of the cafes and places of amusement.

It is l a cosmopolitan crowd: a perfect babel of language proceeds from tho groups around the marble-topped tables. The pompous and strident-voiced merchant peculiar to the Levant) witn a fatuous l smile, emphasises his remarks by waving a fat cigar and punctuates his conversation by loud guffaws. His vis-avis is a clean-shaved, pimply individual, the muscles' of whose jaw work spasmodically, and he chews something with great vigor; occasionally lie makes a remark with an unmistakable American accent in answer to his; dogmatic companion. A sleek and portly Greek watches his shifty-eyed Armenian companion through his cigarette smoke, and as he raises the. long conical glass of beer to his lips lie tries? to fathom thepurpose and the real meaning of tho hist remark.

The young Levantine' dandies poise their cigarettes in studied attitudes, and blow clouds of smoke from their nostrils; at intervals, one will gaze earnestly inside his straw hat at the little mirror affixed to the crown, and with a ( deliberation befitting the gravity of the operation trim his 1 moustaches with a tiny comb. The well-to-do Greek tradesman takes sips of Iris small glass of “Mastica,” and dreamily sucks his water pipe; while his chum, the impecunious office clerk, sitting opposite, chatters gaily and volubly, inwardly wondering who will pay for the refreshment. Inside the cafe proper a. Greek hand of musicians play softly and sweetly iijKin mandolines and guitars; as the music the hum of conversation rises. The bright-colored dresses of the ladies seem thrown in hold relief by the sombre clothes of the men, the dark red 1 and crimson of the Turkish fez; the lights and glitter of silver and crystal combine to make a pleasing spectacle. The Smyrna beauties, who at this hour parade the quay and fill the cafes, do not leave ,favorable impres-

sions comparing them to typically English communities, for although they dress carefully, fashionably and presumably expensively, they incline to corpulency they have pasty complexions, vu\el theiv features ave course. But no one can gainsay this fact—they are full of vivacity and gusli, The air is vibrant with their shrill, treble voices; in and around the cafe they sit, surrounded by their friends, giving color and animation to the scene. The band stops suddenly, and the clear, sibilant laugh of the young lady who sits among her friends at an adjacent table floats in the evening air; her hand is arrested in the act of lifting a long conical glass of beer. She laughs hysterically; the white froth trickles over the brim of the glass and drops upon the marble table ; hastily she. sets it down, and pulls her dress clear. There is a faint murmur of applause, to encourage the musicians; the bum of conversation, which has been very loud gradually dies away now that the music has stopped Three Turkish officers sit drinking tiny cups of coffee; they arc engaged in serious con-venation, and frequently refer to a Turkish newspaper. As each Ottoman enter the cafe be gravely salutes tins group by touching the breast, chin, and forehead, the customary salutation of the Turks, and meaning the service of the heart, mouth, and brain. The officers converse in low and guarded tones; their attitude's indicate an intense absorbed attention and earnest discussion. With an abrupt gesture the leader terminates the converstaion. They all rise from their seats, click their spurred heels together, salute stiffly, and leave the cafe.