Nestled in the rugged highlands of northeastern Turkey, Kars is a city that defies easy categorization. Its cobblestone streets whisper tales of empires long gone, while its vibrant present reflects the complex interplay of identity, migration, and geopolitical tension. To visit Kars is to step into a living mosaic—one where Armenian churches stand beside Ottoman-era mosques, where Russian architecture clashes with Turkish modernity, and where the echoes of the Caucasus Wars still resonate in daily life.
A Crossroads of Civilizations
The Legacy of Empires
Kars has been a pawn in the games of empires for centuries. The Byzantines, Seljuks, Mongols, Ottomans, and Russians have all left their mark on this strategic outpost. The most visible remnant of this layered history is the Kars Citadel, a formidable fortress that looms over the city. Built in the 12th century by the Saltukids and later expanded by the Ottomans, it’s a silent witness to countless battles—most recently, the Russo-Turkish Wars of the 19th century.
Walking through Kars, you’ll notice something unusual for Turkey: Russian-style balconies and neoclassical facades. This is the legacy of the four decades (1878-1918) when Kars was under Russian rule. The city’s urban layout, with its grid-like streets, feels more like Tbilisi than Istanbul—a reminder of how fluid borders once were in this part of the world.
The Armenian Ghost
No discussion of Kars is complete without acknowledging its Armenian past. Before the tragic events of 1915, Armenians made up a significant portion of the population. The Cathedral of Kars (Surp Arakelots), now a shell of its former self, stands as a haunting symbol of this erased heritage. In recent years, there’s been a cautious revival of interest in Armenian history, fueled in part by diaspora tourism and the global reckoning with historical memory.
The Melting Pot of Modern Kars
Kurdish Identity and the PKK Question
Today, Kars is predominantly Kurdish, with a mix of Azeris, Turks, and a small community of Caucasus migrants. The Kurdish presence is impossible to ignore—from the language spoken in bazaars to the political murals that occasionally appear (and just as quickly disappear) on city walls. The shadow of the PKK conflict looms large here. While Kars itself has remained relatively calm compared to cities like Diyarbakır, the Turkish military maintains a visible presence, and conversations about autonomy or cultural rights are often held in hushed tones.
The Syrian Refugee Crisis Next Door
Turkey hosts the world’s largest refugee population, and while most Syrians are concentrated in cities like Istanbul and Gaziantep, Kars has seen its own small influx. The local government estimates around 5,000 Syrians now call Kars home—a drop in the bucket nationally, but significant for a city of 100,000. Their integration is a microcosm of Turkey’s broader struggle: some locals welcome them as fellow Muslims fleeing war, while others resent the competition for jobs and resources.
The Cultural Renaissance (and Its Discontents)
Orhan Pamuk’s "Snow" Effect
Kars might have remained obscure to the outside world if not for Orhan Pamuk’s novel Snow, which cast the city as a metaphor for Turkey’s identity crisis. Since the book’s 2002 publication, literary pilgrims have flocked to Kars, searching for the "Hotel Kars" (a fictionalized version of the now-defunct Kar’s Oteli) and the tea houses where political conspiracies unfolded in the novel.
This attention has sparked a minor cultural revival. Artists and filmmakers have begun using Kars as a backdrop, drawn to its melancholic beauty. But not everyone is thrilled. Some locals resent being reduced to a literary trope, while others worry that the focus on Kars’ past ignores its present struggles—like unemployment and rural depopulation.
The Winter Tourism Gamble
Kars is betting big on ski tourism, with the Sarıkamış ski resort (just 50 km away) being touted as Turkey’s answer to the Alps. The government has poured millions into infrastructure, hoping to attract wealthy Istanbulites and even international visitors. But there’s a dark irony here: Sarıkamış is also the site of one of the Ottoman Empire’s worst military disasters, where 90,000 soldiers froze to death in 1914. The juxtaposition of luxury hotels and mass graves is unsettling—and entirely emblematic of Kars’ complicated relationship with history.
The Geopolitical Tightrope
The Ghost of the Armenian-Turkish Border
Kars sits just 60 km from the Armenian border, a line that remains fiercely contested. The border has been closed since 1993 due to the Nagorno-Karabakh conflict, cutting off what was once a vital trade route. In 2020, when war flared up again between Armenia and Azerbaijan, Kars became a hub for Azerbaijani refugees and a staging ground for Turkish military support to Baku.
The irony? Many in Kars have family ties across the border. Some older residents still remember visiting relatives in Gyumri (then Leninakan) before the Iron Curtain fell. Now, they can only wave at distant hills and wonder.
Russia’s Shadow
With the war in Ukraine, Turkey’s delicate balancing act between NATO and Russia has put Kars in an awkward spot. The city depends on Russian tourists (especially for ski season), and remittances from Kars natives working in Russia are a lifeline for many families. At the same time, Ankara’s drone sales to Ukraine have made things tense. Locals joke darkly that they’re used to being caught between great powers—it’s the story of their lives.
The Soul of Kars: Food, Music, and Resistance
A Culinary Time Capsule
Kars’ cuisine is a testament to its multicultural past. Kars gravyer cheese, a Swiss-inspired delicacy introduced during the Russian era, is now a national treasure. Then there’s hingel, a dumpling dish that’s unmistakably Caucasian, and kete, a flaky bread that Armenian, Kurdish, and Turkish families all claim as their own.
The Music of Longing
If Kars had a soundtrack, it would be the mournful strains of the kemençe, a bowed instrument that bridges Turkish and Armenian folk traditions. In dimly lit meyhanes, you’ll hear songs about exile, snow, and lost homelands—themes that never seem to grow old here.
The Quiet Defiance
Perhaps the most remarkable thing about Kars is its resilience. This is a city that has been invaded, abandoned, and forgotten—and yet it endures. In the backstreets, young poets publish underground zines. In the villages, women weave carpets with patterns that haven’t changed in centuries. And in the cafes, old men argue politics with the same passion as their grandfathers did.
Kars doesn’t offer easy answers. But in a world obsessed with binaries—East vs. West, Muslim vs. Christian, Turk vs. Kurd—it stands as a living rebuttal to simplicity.
Hot Country
Hot Region
- Usak culture
- Corum culture
- Denizli culture
- Izmir culture
- Icel culture
- Istanbul culture
- Isparta culture
- Igdir culture
- Kirikkale culture
- Kirsehir culture
- Nevsehir culture
- Van culture
- Gaziantep culture
- Bolu culture
- Kars culture
- Karaman culture
- Karabuk culture
- Kastamonu culture
- Kahraman Maras culture
- Giresun culture
- Hakkari culture
- Hatay culture
- Erzincan culture
- Erzurum culture
- Elazig culture
- Eskisehir culture
- Edirne culture
- Kilis culture
- Ordu culture
- Ankara culture
- Antalya culture
- Zonguldak culture
- Bingol culture
- Nigde culture
- Gumushane culture
- Kutahya culture
- Bayburt culture
- Balikesir culture
- Bartin culture
- Batman culture
- Burdur culture
- Bursa culture
- Kayseri culture
- Canakkale culture
- Tokat culture
- Urfa culture
- Cankiri culture
- Kirklareli culture
- Bitlis culture
- Bilecik culture
- Tekirdag culture
- Trabzon culture
- Konya culture
- Kocaeli culture
- Mus culture
- Mugla culture
- Yozgat culture
- Aydin culture
- Sakarya culture
- Samsun culture
- Diyarbakir culture
- Tunceli culture
- Rize culture
- Siirt culture
- Sirnak culture
- Sivas culture
- Sinop culture
- Aksaray culture
- Agri culture
- Artvin culture
- Ardahan culture
- Adiyaman culture
- Afyon culture
- Adana culture
- Amasya culture
- Mardin culture
- Manisa culture
- Malatya culture