
Remzi Gokdag is a Turkish journalist and author whose work bridges cities, histories, and human experiences. Born in 1968 in Beşiktaş, Istanbul, he studied Journalism at Istanbul University and began his career in 1989 at Cumhuriyet newspaper. Early in his career, he received multiple awards including the Çetin Emeç and the Contemporary Journalists Association Award.
Over the years, Gokdag has worked with various newspapers and magazines and served as the founding General Editor of USA Turkish Times in the United States. His career has taken him across several cities—Los Angeles, Moscow, Zurich, and Dubai—each leaving a lasting mark on his worldview and storytelling.
He is the author of Başka Şehirler (Following Footsteps), Sevgili İstanbul (Dear Istanbul), Park Otel Olayı and Amerikan Medyasında 11 Eylül. His writing blends the precision of journalism with the depth of travel and literary narrative, exploring how personal memory, social history, and place intersect.
Gokdag sees himself not only as a reporter but as a translator of human experiences—connecting stories across borders and cultures and revealing the shared emotions that unite people despite distance. He currently resides in Dubai, continuing to write and travel alongside his life partner Yelda, whom he describes as his essential companion in both journeys and stories.
My story begins in Beşiktaş, Istanbul, where I was born in 1968. Twenty-one years later, I walked through the doors of Cumhuriyet newspaper, eager and uncertain, ready to chase truth wherever it might lead. Those early days were intoxicating—a whirlwind of breaking news, impossible deadlines, and the electric feeling that every story mattered, that every word we published could shift the country, even if just a little.
Among all the stories I covered during those formative years, the Park Otel Incident holds a special place in my memory. Here was a single building that became a symbol of something much larger—the eternal struggle between Istanbul’s magnificent past and its relentless march toward modernity. Covering that story gave me more than just headlines; it offered me a window into the soul of my city, where preservation and progress dance an uneasy tango. That experience crystallized something I had always felt but couldn’t quite articulate: my profound connection to Istanbul’s beautiful contradictions.
But as the years passed, something shifted within me. The adrenaline rush of daily journalism, which once felt like oxygen, began to feel constraining. I found myself yearning for something beyond the next deadline, something deeper than the facts we gathered from press conferences and official statements. A restlessness took hold—not dissatisfaction with journalism itself, but a growing awareness that the stories I most wanted to tell couldn’t always be found in breaking news. Real understanding, I realized, emerges from quieter moments: the overheard conversation in a foreign café, the particular way light falls on an unfamiliar street, the subtle rhythms of cultures revealing themselves to those patient enough to listen.
So I made a choice that felt both inevitable and terrifying—I stepped away from the newsroom’s familiar chaos and embraced what had always called to me from the margins: the art of travel and long-form storytelling. Istanbul would always be home, but I needed to understand how other cities breathe, how they shape the people who walk their streets.
Los Angeles came first, with its sprawling boulevards where dreams and disappointments live side by side under that famous California sun. Then Zurich, where precision and tranquility offered a counterpoint to everything I had known, teaching me the value of quiet contemplation. Moscow followed, pulsing with an energy that felt both foreign and familiar, a city of grand narratives and intimate struggles. And Dubai, that gleaming testament to ambition, where the future arrives before anywhere else, yet tradition persists in unexpected corners.
Living in these places—not just visiting, but truly inhabiting them—transformed my understanding of storytelling. Each city taught me something different about how geography shapes destiny, how politics seeps into daily life, how hope manifests differently depending on where you stand in the world. I learned that every skyline tells a story, every neighborhood has its own heartbeat, and every person you meet carries a universe of experiences waiting to be understood.
The transition from journalist to traveler-storyteller hasn’t always been smooth. My journalistic training insists on facts, verification, and clarity—the scaffolding of responsible reporting. Yet travel invites you into spaces where certainty dissolves, where truth becomes plural, where the most important stories often resist neat conclusions. Learning to navigate this tension has become my life’s work: maintaining the rigor and ethics of journalism while embracing the ambiguity and wonder that authentic human stories demand.
What drives me now is something more than curiosity—it’s a deep conviction that in our increasingly connected yet fragmented world, we desperately need stories that bridge divides. Not the stories that make headlines for their shock value, but the quieter narratives that reveal our common humanity. The grandmother in Moscow who reminds you of your own; the entrepreneur in Dubai whose struggles mirror those of a shop owner in Istanbul; the artist in Los Angeles whose dreams echo those of creators everywhere.
These days, I think of myself less as a reporter in the traditional sense and more as a translator of human experience. My role is to take the complexity of lived moments—whether it’s witnessing a neighborhood’s transformation, sitting with a family as they navigate change, or simply observing the ballet of daily life in a street market—and render them in ways that invite readers to see beyond their own horizons.
Every city I’ve lived in has left its mark on me, expanding not just my geographical knowledge but my emotional vocabulary. They’ve taught me that while contexts differ wildly, the fundamental human experiences—love, loss, ambition, fear, joy—create a common thread that runs through every culture. My mission now is to follow that thread, to illuminate the connections that exist even when they’re not immediately visible.
The journey from that young reporter at Cumhuriyet to where I stand today has been anything but linear. It’s been a path marked by deliberate choices and happy accidents, by moments of clarity and periods of productive confusion. What remains constant is my belief that stories matter—not just as entertainment or information, but as the fundamental way we make sense of ourselves and each other. In telling these stories, in bridging the space between the familiar and the foreign, I’ve found not just my profession but my purpose.
I still remember the excitement of 1987 when I first set foot at Istanbul University’s Faculty of Communication. It felt like stepping into a world full of stories waiting to be told—a world I was eager to explore. Just two years later, in 1989, I found myself at Cumhuriyet Newspaper as a young reporter. Those early days were a whirlwind of chasing leads, feeling the pulse of the city, and realizing that journalism wasn’t just about facts—it was about people’s lives and their untold stories. When I received the Çetin Emeç Journalism Award in 1993, it wasn’t just a trophy; it was a reminder that this work mattered.
Leaving Cumhuriyet in 1994 and joining Yeni Yüzyıl newspaper was like turning a new page. I wanted to try new things, push boundaries, and find my own voice. Then life surprised me again—Los Angeles called. In 1996, I packed my bags and dove headfirst into the early days of digital journalism. The internet was brand new, and I was fascinated by how it could change the way we tell stories. Suddenly, the world felt both bigger and smaller at the same time.
Moscow came next, in 1998—a city of stark contrasts and deep history. Sending news back to Radikal and Kanal D from the cold Russian capital was challenging but eye-opening. I was a long way from home, but every story I told helped build a bridge back to those who wanted to understand that distant world.
By 1999, Los Angeles had become my base again. Ten years in that vibrant city reshaped my view of the world. As Editor-in-Chief of USA Turkish Times in 2005, I had the honor of amplifying the voices of Turks living far from home—helping them feel connected through shared stories and struggles.
In 2008, I returned once more to Istanbul. The city felt familiar but changed, like an old friend who’s been through a lot. Soon after, I found myself in Zurich, exploring media from a fresh angle by creating alternative news platforms and writing for Cumhuriyet again until 2013.
That year, driven by a deep longing, I returned to Istanbul and wrote Sevgili İstanbul (Dear Istanbul), a book born from conversations with twenty remarkable people. It was my way of holding onto a city that continues to teach me every day. The book was released in 2015, a love letter in print.
Moving to Dubai in 2018 was like stepping onto an uncharted sensory landscape. The heat was intense, but it sparked a different kind of creativity. A year later, my book, Başka Şehirler, took shape, published the following year—another chapter of wanderlust and reflection.
But beneath this continuing adventure, there’s a fascinating, almost invisible force at play, a silent architect whose influence is impossible to ignore. Her name is Yelda. She is more than just a companion by my side; she’s an inspiration carried in the deepest corners of my heart. She meticulously plans every element of our journeys—tickets, accommodations, and the secret-filled paths through various cities. Yet, here is the strange, almost paradoxical truth – we never actually follow the route we draw. We seem to be driven by the suspicion that the truest beauty, the most profound discovery, is always hidden in the shadow of getting lost. Walking with her, a profound sense of being home washes over me, even in the most remote corners of the globe. A true travel companion is defined not by how they support you at the destination, but by how they anchor you amidst uncertainty. To have such a person is to be the happiest person in the world.
Today, I’m still here in Dubai, always curious, always searching. Writing is how I make sense of this ever-changing world—capturing pieces of stories, moments, and memories along the way. It’s an ongoing journey, and I’m grateful for every step.
(English version of Başka Şehirler)
Remzi Gökdağ explores themes of travel, displacement, and the search for belonging, drawing from experiences in various cities beyond Istanbul. This book collects stories centered around changing urban landscapes and the human stories that unfold within them.
Title: Following Footsteps (Başka Şehirler)
Publication Year: 2025
Subtitle: Traveling Places Where History Never Fades
Sevgili İstanbul (2015) This book is a mosaic of interviews and memoirs capturing Istanbul’s identity through the lives of 20 famous residents. Gökdağ tells how the city has changed over time while emphasizing the lasting essence of its people, nostalgia, and authentic history.
Title: Sevgili İstanbul
Publication Year: 2015
Genre: A blend of memoir, interviews, and historical anecdotes about Istanbul’s past.
Park Otel Olayı is a thought-provoking book by Remzi Gökdağ that sheds light on the intersection of urban development, environmental values, and civic activism.
This investigative book dives into the legal and urban controversies surrounding Istanbul’s Park Otel. It explores how the hotel was constructed despite opposition from the public and ignores urban planning principles, highlighting flaws in law enforcement and city governance.
Title: Park Otel Olayı (The Park Hotel Incident)
Publication Year: 1992
Genre: A blend of investigative journalism, urban studies, and social commentary.
The book revolves around the controversial construction of the Park Hotel in Ayazpaşa, a neighborhood in Istanbul. The hotel project symbolizes the unchecked exploitation of urban spaces, environmental degradation, and the erosion of social values. Gökdağ meticulously examines how the Park Hotel, despite public opposition, managed to rise freely for three years.
The incident becomes a battleground between citizens, respectful of democracy and the environment, and a powerful alliance of official and unofficial actors.
ISBN: 9789753901741
Amerikan Medyasında 11 Eylül (September 11 in the American Media) is a thought-provoking book by Remzi Gökdağ that delves into the portrayal of the September 11, 2001 terrorist attacks in the American media.
Gökdağ’s analysis focuses on how September 11, 2001, was reported in the American media. It compares the approaches of American and Turkish news reporting and examines how different cultures are informed in times of global crises, particularly after terrorist attacks.
Title: Amerikan Medyasında 11 Eylül (September 11 in the American Media)
Publication Year: 2001
Genre: Investigative journalism, media studies, and political analysis.
In the aftermath of the tragic events of 9/11, the American media played a crucial role in shaping public perception, understanding, and emotional responses. Remzi Gökdağ meticulously examines how major American news outlets covered the attacks, the subsequent investigations, and the impact on global politics.


GLOBER MAGAZINE INTERVIEW BY FATIH ACA
Before I became an author I worked as a reporter for a number of newspapers. As a requirement of the job, I spent years keeping up with daily events. I’ve been writing non-stop since 1989, working in Moscow, Los Angeles, and Zurich. I’ve been living in Dubai for one year, now. News stories you write in a newspaper have a life-span of just one day, so I started compiling the most important stories I had pursued into books to make them more lasting. My first book, “Park Otel Olayı” (The Park Hotel Event), was published in 1992. I then wrote my second work, “Amerikan Medyasında 11 Eylül” (September 11 in the American Media), which sought to investigate how media companies dealt with the 9/11 attacks. It seemed that whilst we had indeed witnessed an event that changed the course of history, no-one seemed to wonder about the media’s approach to this big event.
In your last book, Darling Istanbul, we heard about Istanbul as experienced from 20 famous local residents. Your most recent book, Other Cities, meanwhile, deals with 20 other cities from the points of view of 20 of their most famous residents. Can you tell us why you opt for this type of narration?
The book prior to my latest release, “Sevgili İstanbul” (Dear Istanbul), was my attempt to pass down the old culture of the city and talk about what life used to be like here in former times. I interviewed 20 legendary figures about what came to mind with the word ‘Istanbul’ and made the book all about their memories. I learnt a lot of very important details about old Istanbul from these talks. For me, it is a work full of incredible memories. Many of those I spoke to are unfortunately no longer with us, but their memories live on in the pages of the book. Actually, you could consider “Başka Şehirler” (Other Cities) as a continuation, a sequel, to Darling Istanbul. In the latter, we journey through Istanbul with 20 people. In Other Cities we tour 20 more cities guided by 20 other people. Although the locations are different, what unites the two is a remembrance of important events from the past, some well-forgotten. Both books take the reader on a short journey through time. One is set in Istanbul, the other 20 different cities from around the world.
How did you choose which 20 cities you would cover and how did you choose who would best describe them?
What the cities have in common is that they have been inhabited by some astounding individuals. In some places, we chose the city based on the person. For others, we chose it based on the city itself. For instance, when it comes to writing on Paris, there are hundreds of people I can seek the inspiration of. Every one of them has left a permanent mark on the city, but I chose the photographer, Robery Doisneau – well actually, I didn’t choose him, I guess Paris did. The city of love made it into the book through the lens of this great photographer. When writing on Berlin, I sought human memories from the time of the fall of the Berlin Wall, so for that reason I picked Marlene Dietrich as a guide. For Los Angeles, where I lived for many years, I wanted to be inspired not from the perspective of a Hollywood star, but the city’s most famous writer. Of course, all these decisions were rather personal. Other people would narrate the stories of these cities from others’ perspectives and would come up with some interesting results. As my journey continues, I will keep on writing, narrating, and sharing.
I first and foremost see myself as someone on the search for knowledge. I used to be a reporter, and I used to get referred to as a journalist sometimes. Since my books, however, people have started calling me a writer. I’m a blogger too, thanks to my internet articles, but I’ve been a traveller for as long as I can remember. The journey started when I was young and would explore beyond the limits of the neighbourhood, and it has continued my whole life – in time taking me across the world. I would always head off in pursuit of what interested me. The cities and cultures I bear witness to broaden my horizons. As a result, the things I learn while travelling are reflected in my writing.
How do you reflect what you’ve seen and where you’ve travelled in what you write and say? What keeps you going on your journey as a writer?
There’s a classic old conundrum: Can one learn better through reading or travelling? A few years ago, I would have answered “both”, but now I realise the value of learning by seeing and observing. I think someone who travels more learns more – or at least learns the truth. However true a book may be, it still reflects someone else’s truth. If the truth is something we’ve seen with our eyes, then it changes everything.
How do you travel generally? Do you prefer to plan everything out or go with the flow?
I never set off anywhere without first making a detailed plan. In this endeavour, my wife Yelda is a big help, as she makes all the plans. She organises the tickets and books where we are going to stay, then we leave. Before we go, we have a list of what we are going to see, although we never stick to the plan. We see the beauty in those who set off without a plan. Sometimes in order to find something you have to lose your way, and travelling is the best time to put that rule of thumb into action.
Remzi Gökdag studied at the Communications Faculty of Istanbul University before beginning his career as a reporter for Cumhuriyet newspaper in 1989. After 1996, he split from the newspaper to work for various other magazines and publications. Over his time as a reporter, Gökdag became an expert on Istanbul, in winning Çetin Emeç Journalism Award and the Contemporary Journalist Association’s Journalist of the Year award in 1993. Gökdag now lives in Dubai and is the author of The Park Hotel Event, September 11 in the American Media, Darling Istanbul, and Other Cities.