Karacaahmet is a vast cemetery on the hills of Üsküdar that feels less like a graveyard than a dim forest. Tall cypress close overhead, the light drops, and the traffic fades to a hush. Thousands of pale stones lean at every angle, their gilded verses softened by weather and moss, and cats move between them as if they own the place. The oldest men's stones are crowned with carved headgear; the women's carry flowers instead.
The ground began receiving the dead in the fourteenth century, a full hundred years before Constantinople fell, because the Asian shore turned Turkish long before the city across the water did. It covers seventy-five hectares in five named quarters, and the oldest stone standing in it was cut in 1520. It is named for Karaca Ahmet, whose tomb near its heart still draws quiet visitors. It is still a working cemetery, so fresh graves sit beside Ottoman ones.