A Crossroads City With Ancient Roots

The road west from Kadir’s farm stretches through endless groves of fig trees, their broad bell-shaped canopies interspersed with the scragglier forms of olive trees. This fertile landscape gives way to something entirely unexpected as one approaches Gaziantep – Turkey’s southern powerhouse where ancient history collides with explosive modern growth.

Gaziantep occupies a strategic position at Turkey’s geographical heart, much like Wuhan in China’s transportation network. The first glimpse of the city shocks visitors: a dense forest of identical yellow high-rises erupting from the desert plain, their rooftops sprouting solar water heaters like bizarre metallic flowers. This jarring skyline tells the story of a city transforming at breakneck speed.

From Obscurity to Economic Powerhouse

Local guide Aykut, a newspaper publisher with flawless English from his British education, explains Gaziantep’s remarkable ascent. “This was a sleepy provincial town when I was young,” he recounts. “Now we’re Turkey’s fastest-growing city, the nation’s manufacturing heart, and the Middle East’s largest import-export hub.”

The statistics bear out Aykut’s claims. Gaziantep’s four industrial zones employ over 100,000 workers producing textiles and food products, generating $5 billion in annual exports. The Wall Street Journal ranked it among the world’s ten fastest-growing cities in 2009 – the only Turkish city to make the list alongside Chinese metropolises like Guangzhou and Chongqing.

Aykut shares a revealing Turkish joke: “When our president supposedly sent 20 million soldiers to attack China, your leaders’ first concern was finding them hotel rooms.” This humor underscores the complex relationship between Gaziantep’s manufacturers and their Chinese competitors. In the city’s bazaars, Chinese goods dominate with unbeatable prices – a Turkish-made hair dryer costs ten times its Chinese counterpart while offering no better quality.

Culinary Treasures and Archaeological Wonders

No visit to Gaziantep is complete without sampling its legendary baklava. At İmam Çağdaş, the city’s most famous restaurant, honey-drenched layers of phyllo pastry stuffed with locally grown pistachios create a dessert so prized it sells for €50 per box in Istanbul. The restaurant’s success mirrors Gaziantep’s own rise from obscurity.

Aykut played a key role in putting Gaziantep on the map. When Roman ruins surfaced during nearby dam construction in the late 1990s, he invited New York Times correspondent Stephen Kinzer to document what he dubbed “the second Pompeii.” The resulting article brought 5,000 foreign visitors in 2000 alone. City officials capitalized on this attention by creating a museum showcasing remarkable mosaics, including the famous “Gypsy Girl” that became Gaziantep’s cultural emblem.

The Turkish Model: Between East and West

Gaziantep offers fascinating glimpses of Turkey’s unique position straddling Europe and the Middle East. The city displays familiar developing-world scenes – plastic “grass” along light rail tracks, chaotic parking, ostentatious Western brand names – alongside surprising orderliness. Bus queues form spontaneously, indoor smoking is rare, and young English-speaking officials demonstrate impressive professionalism.

Aykut, a self-described liberal Muslim, articulates Turkey’s cultural tensions: “I dislike loud prayer calls and hypocrites who secretly drink. About 25% of Turks share my views, 15% are hardliners, and the rest sway between.” He worries about growing religious influence in politics, recalling government retaliation against his paper’s critiques. “Islam and democracy cannot mix,” he insists, pointing to Syria’s tragic contrast as proof of secularism’s value.

Syria’s Shadow and Gaziantep’s Future

A visit to Syrian refugee camps near the border provides sobering perspective. Once bustling with cross-border trade, the frontier now hosts desperate families in orderly but bleak tent cities. Young refugees angrily display phone images of massacred villages, their trauma underscoring Gaziantep’s relative stability.

As Aykut observes: “Anyone seeing Syria understands Turkey can’t turn back.” Gaziantep embodies this forward momentum – its solar-topped towers symbolizing adaptation, its ancient mosaics representing cultural continuity, and its booming factories driving Turkey’s economic aspirations. Between baklava sweetness and industrial grit, between Ottoman heritage and global ambition, Gaziantep offers a microcosm of modern Turkey’s complex identity.