Istanbul

I’m just back from Istanbul where my mom and I spent a fascinating five days. The city is an eclectic mix of east and west, but I would say it was more middle eastern than I had expected. I saw similarities to Sarajevo, a city I’ve spent some time in, in its surreal blend of European culture and language and Ottoman architecture and religion, but Sarajevo is decidedly more European than Istanbul. Even though Turkey is a secular state, religious expression is everywhere. Calls to prayer sound from the numerous mosques five times a day and in certain parts of the city, men block the streets with their carpets while kneeling in the direction of Mecca. 

Most women wore a shawl around their heads, and a surprising number were fully covered in black chadors with nothing but slits for their eyes. However, in the Beyoglu district near Taksim Square, the population was noticeably younger and modernly dressed. The main shopping avenue, Istiklal Caddesi, is lined with all the major American and European fashion chains, and there’s even a Shake Shack!! I am otherwise against eating American fast food when abroad, but a Shack Burger is the exception. 

Istanbul is a city for those who love history and architecture. The mosques are very grand and numerous and the interior designs are breathtaking. Our hotel in Sultanahmet was very close to the square where the Blue Mosque and Hagia Sophia tower on either side, and my favorite part of the day was walking across the square at night and seeing these two monuments lit up in a splendor uncommon in the western world. 

The Hagia Sophia (or Aya Sofia in Turkish) was originally a Byzantine church that was later transformed into a mosque when the Ottomans conquered the city. Now it’s a museum badly in need of restoration, but its double ancestry is still visible and preserved. 

Hagia Sophia

You can see the Mother Mary in the dome

Definitely in need of repair

Shopping is a must here. Both the Spice Market and Grand Bazaar are obligatory destinations where you will get the chance to haggle over products and prices with pushy, yet still respectful and polite, shop keepers. My mom and I both love to shop, so it was easy for us to delve into the chaos. There are endless tunnels of carpets, lamps, pottery, scarves, gold, leather bags and jackets, teas and spices. The prices aren’t necessarily cheap, but they’re completely reasonable. 

In the Grand Bazaar

The spice market

We met an eccentric and engaging shop keeper who keeps a broom in the doorway to block people from coming in. He won’t let customers through the door unless they first say hello. ”Whatever happened to manners?” he laments. Apparently he’s not desperate to do business as he shooed away a number of people while we were there. I’m still trying to figure out why he let me in (I just moved the broom and asked, ”Are you open?”) but we’re both glad he did as we got to conversing about relationships, suffering, social classes, music and ”the deplorable state of our times.” A very curious man. I like him. 

I thought the Basilican Cistern was one of the most interesting things to see. Built in the 6th century by the emperor Justinian, it’s an extensive underground water system that provided the city with fresh water. The large swarms of Chinese tourists also thought it was an interesting place as they swooped in with their cameras, oblivious to the fact that other tourists were politely standing in line and awaiting their turn. An Italian guy was getting visibly irritated and swearing under his breath as the Chinese blocked his shots each time he lifted the camera to take a picture. It was comical.

My mother braving the Chinese swarm

Turkish men deserve their own paragraph, because, to be frank, they are probably what I’m going to remember most from this trip. The sights are impressive, but it’s the people and conversations you have with them that make or break a trip in my opinion. I hardly came into direct contact with women as the shop keepers and restaurateurs were all male, and I have never been so flirted with and flattered as I was this past week. Seriously - it got intense. But I must admit that I enjoyed it to a certain extent. The men are very good-looking - often with dark complexions and blue or green eyes - but also quite a few fairer complexions as well, and they have a way of talking to you as if you are the only one they’ve ever had eyes for. I’ve met a number of interesting men in my travels, many of them shady in one way or another. That wasn’t entirely the case this time around. However, there is one incident that I wish I’d handled differently: 

There was this one guy on the street where our hotel was who tried several days in a row to get us to eat at his restaurant. Finally, one evening after a turkish bath, my mom and I decided to step in for a meal. The food was very good and we ended up meeting a delightful British couple who, as it turned out, were also staying at our hotel. They work on an estate in Kent as a housekeeper and butler of sorts (very Downton Abbey). Anyway, this guy, (we’ll call him Dario), who was from the other side of Turkey, was apparently not an employee of the restaurant but was there helping the owner (a relative of some sort) for the season. He took a liking to me and started hanging out at our table, telling us about Turkey and his work as a dancer (he’s apparently danced for Janet Jackson and Lady Gaga, as well as on Britain’s Got Talent - I swear, I saw the YouTube video). Anyway, he was very flirtatious and quite forward, but interesting to talk to, so I kind of rolled with it. He asked me to come by the restaurant the following night for a drink, to which I said maybe. The next evening on our walk back to the hotel, we passed by the restaurant and again he asked me to come by later. I was in a jovial mood, so I said I would. But then I lost track of time and got sleepy and was easily persuaded by my discerning mother to stay put. The next evening as we passed by the restaurant on our way to a café down the street, he saw me but turned away and wouldn’t look at me when I made some lame comment on the rain. I wanted to apologize about last night, but in that instant I thought he was being sulky and petty, so I didn’t say anything. It’s not just Turkish men who have pride issues apparently. 

The point of all this is to say that it’s hard to know where the line is drawn when interacting with guys from other cultures. When every Turkish man I meet flirts and flatters to get at my wallet, naturally I don’t believe a word anyone says to me. But Dario was visibly offended, and even though I may think that he was being ridiculous and territorial, I am guilty of not taking him seriously. He felt toyed with and disrespected, and I didn’t make it right. For that I am genuinely sorry. I wish I’d handled the situation differently. Not that the outcome would have been different (I still wasn’t going to marry him, move to his village and live with his mother, as he had not so subtly insinuated before), but I don’t ever want to leave a bitter taste in somebody’s mouth, regardless of our chances of running into each other again. 

Needless to say, this voyage has left me with a number of impressions and some new insight into my own character. In other words, a successful trip. 

The ferry ride over to the Asian side