Ben Rook.

Getting to know a country often involves checking out its capital city. At their best, capitals are a physical expression of national identity and full of cultural relevance and history. Others are modern, purpose-built or politically motivated relocations. The latter usually less appealing to the average foreigner. So, it was with lowkey anticipation we arrived for 38 days in the Turkish capital, Ankara.

Photographically, I was in search of something to say. With average temperatures in January and February around freezing, I toyed with the concept of cold Turkey. But I'm a fair-weather photographer at heart. And I couldn't get inspired enough to brave the icy weather. Besides, Ankara warmed up after a couple of weeks, so I knocked that idea on the head.

One hundred years have now passed since the seat of power shifted from the more popular (and populace) Istanbul. The switch was the brainchild of the much-revered Mustafa Kemal Atatürk. In October 1923, after emerging victorious from the Turkish War of Independence, he abolished the caliphate, sent the sultan packing and founded the Turkish Republic. MakingAnkara the capital was his way of breaking free from Ottoman rule and providing proximity to the rest of the country. At the time, Ankara had only 35,000 residents. Today, that number is approaching 6 million.

According to legend, Atatürk was a revolutionary, visionary, and a national hero. And who am I to argue? I like to think of myself in similar terms. It's his almost deification I have a hard time with. The cult of personality that has become Atatürk's legacy is unavoidable in Ankara. His picture is everywhere - bars, cafes, shops, and even on buses and trucks. Unsurprising, perhaps, given the indoctrination Turks receive at school and the law that preserves his reputation. A stretch in the big house awaits anyone who criticises the man or defaces one of his statues. Only pigeons get a pass.

As a Britisher, my preconceptions of this country were tainted by Brexit. They made a big deal of Turkey during that referendum. Their inevitable and imminent joining of the EU was given as our reason to leave. This dubious and nationalistic argument suggests most of Turkey would turn upon our doorstep, given half a chance. It’s not a story I fell for, and a straw poll from my sporadic conversations suggests that most Turks are perfectly happy where they are. Only ambitious and educated youngsters are migration-minded, and their more likely destination is Germany. Besides, nobody I spoke to expects Turkey to join the EU anytime soon.

But I wouldn't bet against it. Atatürk was pro-Europe, and his sweeping reforms aimed to make Turkey an integral part of the European family. Things were on track. Turkey has been an official candidate to join the EU since 1999, but accession talks stalled over concerns fundamental freedoms were not being upheld. A pot and kettle position by the EU given their actions over the last few years and their current push for digital IDs. But that's politics, and the deadlock makes Erdoğan's European of the Year accolade in 2004 seem like a long time ago.

Ankara feels very different to Istanbul. Its airport serves mainly Turkish and Middle Eastern destinations, which means foreign visitors are thin on the ground. But thankfully, so are the souvenir sellers. Apart from the castle at the top of the hill, modernity blends with Islamic tradition. Blokes with beads line the streets. Tesbihs, as they are known, were originally a way for the religious to count prayers. But times change, and they have made their way from the mosques into the hands of secular men wanting to cure boredom, relieve stress, or distract themselves from smoking.

Despite the younger vibe, Ankara is quiet and well-behaved. The shopping malls are busy, and the large parks and residential areas give a family-orientated feel. People seem contented and happy. If I was a middle-of-the-road Turk looking for an easy life, it would be right up my street.

But I'm not. And when all said and done, something was missing. Like Milton-Keynes or Canberra, it felt very organised and predictable. I'm drawn to the spit and sawdust, the chaos and the hustle, a city that keeps me on my toes. I'm going back to Istanbul.

Afterthoughts:

This time out, I ended up with an online photo essay rather than a zine. And maybe some bankable images for future projects. Photographic influences were in short supply. Not many photographers seem to document Ankara. So I followed my nose. My photos told me what to write, and my writing told me what to photograph. Time limitations lightened the output. But themes of freedom and control found their way in as they have done previously.

And I came away with a newfound appreciation for Turkish top boy Mustafa Kemal. The suffix, Atatürk, bestowed upon him and translates to father of the Turks. A relatable character, from what I've read. A forward-thinker who liked a drink. And a truth-seeker who liked a smoke. I share his modernist values based on science, rationality, and secularism. They seem like solid foundations on which to build a nation. And despite his military achievements, he had this to say, “The biggest battle is the war against ignorance.”