Tea, Sugar, Dream: Adventures in Istanbul (part 1)

Tesekkür ederim! This is how you spell “Thank you” in Turkish. But you guessed right, it doesn’t only look difficult to pronounce. After fumbling over this key phrase and attempting to parrot one of our (many) new found Turkish friends, we were offered this helpful mnemonic clue: Tea, first. Then sugar. Then dream. Tesekkür ederim! Simple, right?!?

Language barriers aside, Turkey is now at the forefront on my list of favorite places in the world. Even though I only got the whirlwind tour (3 days….easily could have spent 2 weeks exploring Istanbul alone), it was enough to whet my appetite for all things Turkish.

Arriving at the hostel, weary from a 4am arrival (Thank you, EasyJet!) we (by we I mean Julie, Mel and myself) met the owners/hostel namesakes, the Bahaus brothers. Advised that drinking the tap water was a definite no-no, we ponied up 1.50 YTL (new Turkish Lira), for a 2 litre bottle, assured that it was “the best price in town.” The reason for this was later explained by one of the Bahaus brothers that he was “making war” with one of competing shop owners. Our room at Bahaus was certainly not luxury; but it was clean and warm with OK bathrooms…and I was pretty ecstatic about that for the mere 18.50 swiss francs a night that we were paying!

The next morning we begrudgingly awoke before 10 so we could get our free breakfast. After an *interesting* meal of: bread, a concoction which tasted like honey and apricot jam mixed together, a hunk of feta-like cheese, olives, and a hard-boiled egg, we set off for our first day of exploring “the cradle of civilization” (as all the tourist shop books proclaimed).

Our first stop was the Blue Mosque, one of Turkey’s largest and oldest houses of worship, and one of Istanbul’s most recognizable architectural feats. Standing before this amazing domed structure, you couldn’t help feeling utterly in awe. We arrived right after the call for prayer had begun; 4 large pillars with speakers attached blasted a song/chant from the Qu’aran, and people came and removed their socks and shoes to do the ritual cleansing of hands, feet and body before entering the mosque for prayer.

After visiting the Blue Mosque, we set off on a quest for lunch. We attempted to discreetly peruse menus, but the Turkish shop owners were too quick for us. If you so much as glanced in their restaurants direction for a quarter of a second, they were out on the street trying to entice you to eat at their place. Even if you decided against it, they would quick draw their business card, hoping you would come back later (result: pockets stuffed with at least 20 or so cards from various vendors). At last we decided on a decently priced kebab place and for approximately
$8 USD each feasted on fresh baked flat bread, pita bread, beef and chicken kebab, salad, rice, baklava for dessert, and of course (for me) some Coca light. Simply delicious.

Fueled up, we set off for the Grand Bazaar, the gi-normous aggregation of nearly every type of shop selling anything you could possibly want…if the price is right (and you have to haggle to get that price). Entering the Grand Bazaar was a wonderful assault on the senses; the smells of fresh cooking, the sounds of the haggling and cat calling, trying to attract potential customers (we were variably, “Spice Girls” or “Charlie’s Angels”), and the sight of every type of knock-off luxury good, necklace, carpet, tapestry……..the list goes on and on. Like with the restaurants, the millisecond you threw a coup d’oeil (quick look, gotta throw some French in here somewhere), the stall owner was out there trying to, often very aggressively, court you into buying their merchandise. Julie learned this the hard way after looking at a potentially nice Puma knock-off sweat suit, having the owner open if for her only to realize it was utter fake crap, then spending the next 20 minutes trying to find a way to semi-politely let him know she wasn’t interested. Needless to say, that was the last time we tried to be polite. All future encounters were just, “NO,” or “I don’t want it. Later? NO, not EVER.” You really had to be that direct or you would never move 20 feet in there.

The second highlight was the Egyptian spice bazaar, even more of a glorious assault on the olfactory senses. Store fronts selling dozens of varieties of the infamous Turkish delight, tea, spices, baklava, and other random edible knick knacks (my personal favorite, in every stall, was an odd walnut looking concoction claiming to be “Turkish Viagra!”) And of course, being the Spice Girls/Charlie’s Angels, we were invited in by many a shop owner for a the Turkish staple, Apple Tea, and to sample as many Turkish delights as our pop-singing/crime-fighting hearts desired.

On the way back to the hostel, we somehow got completely turned around, thinking we were headed in the right direction, but realized we weren’t when we (finally) found someone who spoke enough English to tell us we needed to head a kilometer in the opposite direction just to get back on track! In this ethnic neighborhood we stuck out like a sore thumb; 3 fair skinned girls in brightly colored pashminas contrasted against the Turkish men in dark coats who were out and about roaming the quarter. We hardly saw any women, and many bars playing football games with 50 or so men begged the question, “what do you think would happen if we just walked in and sat down?” However, throughout this little diversion into the more “authentic” side of Istanbul I never once felt in danger. In fact, everyone we encountered on this trip was extremely helpful and friendly; in this situation, a man with a limp named Mufizer walked us the kilometer back in the right direction, and even offered to carry our bags!

That night we had another amazing “authentic” Turkish experience. En route to our hostel, we stopped in a gift shop, and ended up chatting with the owner, Atilla, for a good 45 minutes. He offered to take us out for some drinks and live Turkish music, and of course we accepted. Unfortunately the live music didn’t pan out, but we ended up at this amazingly orientally decorated restaurant, and sipped raki, the infamous Turkish liquor, and appetizers (fruit, cheese, chips, nuts, soy beans) that are meant to help the “lion’s milk (raki, called this because of the milky white color it gets when mixed with water, the only sane was to drink it)” go down smoother. Atilla and his friend showed us some traditional Turkish dancing, and we had a spontaneous Turkish dance party right in the middle of the restaurant. After drinks, they took us to a club/discotheque in Taksim the “Time’s Square” of Istanbul, where we danced to Turkish pop until 3 am.

We finally got to the hostel by 4:30, and passed out from exhaustion and raki. Not too shabby for our first day, I’d say. More to come………..