Hosca kalin, Istanbul

What an incredible week.  The rain poured yesterday and drizzled for the early part of today, so we finished up our visit with 'indoor' activities.  First--a trip to the Grand Bazaar to pick up some souvenirs.

After the bazaar, we toured our last mosque--Suleyimane the Magnificent Mosque.  It had a much more serene feel than the Blue Mosque--and the exterior looked like it could have been in Florence.  We were there just before the 1PM Friday call to prayer, so there were many worshipers preparing for worship.

Today, we visited the last Ottoman palace--Dolhambace. 

Sadly, no photos were allowed, so you'll have to take our word that the Baccarat staircase was pretty impressive...but NOTHING compared to the grand reception room with the 118 foot ceiling and 4.5 ton crystal chandelier.  There was only one picture that we COULD take- at the palace-and, for Terry, it was proof that he is surely Ottoman:

We were looking for a place for a quick lunch after the visit and, of course, thought, "Asia!"  We hopped on the Mamary subway.  In four minutes we traveled underneath the Bosphorus to Asia.  The tunnel/train opened on Republic Day in October, 2013--exactly 39 years after the first bridge was opened across the Bosphorus.  The Asian side of the city is much more progressive than even Taksim.  We encountered our first female waiter today in Uskudar.  You'll probably never be able to see this wonderful tile mural depicting the new tunnel & train connecting two continents:

Without reservation, the people of Istanbul have  been the most hospitable we've ever encountered...anywhere.  The city is exotic and incredibly comfortable at the same time.  Our only disappointment?  Turkish Delight.  Hardly worth mentioning, as every other facet of this city has been extraordinary.  With any luck (we're flying through Paris), we should be home tomorrow--wishing we were still here.  The 5PM call to prayer has just started...

Why not visit Asia?

It's Thursday, so why not take a leisurely cruise up the Bosporus and have lunch in Asia?  You're right. We'd be idiots not to do it.  The public ferry runs a trip up to the Black Sea once a day (1 1/2 hours each way) and has a well-timed lay-over of 3 hours in a tiny Asian fishing village.  Okay, it hasn't been 'just' a fishing village in a century, but Anadolu Kavagi is on the Asian side of the Bosporus where it meets the Black Sea. 

Shameless plug of the day:  Rick Steves is our god.  Seriously.  Over the years, we've found his sage advice to be priceless.  Today, it was simple:  sit on the left hand side of the boat each way.  You see the European side on the way north and the Asian side on the way south, when the light is better for pictures.  The young couple from St. Louis seated across from us on the return trip were, likewise, Steves-ophites and readily admitted that they were on the port side because of his advice.  Savvy kids, they.

This cruise really gives you a feel for how massive this city really is.  While the coastline of both shores is lined with multi-million dollar waterfront mansions (yalis), the 30 story office buildings continue, inland, for 3/4 of the trip north.  There are only two bridges that connect the continents right now, but a third is under construction--literally, at the point where the Bosporus meets the Black Sea.

The 'fishing' village is a weekend summer favorite for Istanbul residents and the restaurants base their day's work around the arrival of the ferry. Today, as we approached the dock, dozens of restaurants tried to catch the passengers' attention.  The favorite was EASILY the place that had the entire staff standing at the water's edge waving a dozen different flags from around the world.  No, we didn't dine there.

 

 

After a lovely lunch of fried mussels--with tar-a-tor sauce (incredible), cold meze and grilled red mullet (fresh from the Black Sea), we opted for the only thing that wasn't 'shopping' in town:  a hike, that was dishonestly described as 'moderate', up to the Koros Castle ruins.  The 'moderate' was a lie.  It might have been wiser not to have had a large lunch first.

Embarrassing American moment of the day:  At the ruins, I approached a Japanese couple (at least they were SPEAKING Japanese to each other) and crudely asked them to take our picture.  You know the rest of the story.  The guy says, 'No problem!' and, having posed us, said, 'Say cheese!'.  It's not the sort of idiom I learned in French class.  I'm sure he lives in Hyde Park.

After a late afternoon return and brief nap (we're on vacation.  don't judge.), we dined at a tiny basement restaurant (Gulhane Sark) and had the most memorable meal (so far) of our trip.  The owner (Anatolian) loved to talk politics and the state of Turkey and its farmers--and his views of their president.   They don't have a problem with voter turnout because you pay a fine if you don't vote! Terry was in heaven.  I strongly suspect we'll eat there again before we leave.  On the way back from dinner, we stopped and spent 15 minutes just sitting between the Hagia Sophia and Blue Mosque, both brilliantly illuminated, watching the dancing waters of the great fountain--easily overwhelmed by the city's welcoming hospitality and vitality.  Street vendors passed by selling grilled corn on the cob and wedges of watermelon.  Who wouldn't love this place.

I'm pretty sure we were both born Ottoman

We had no idea until we visited Topkapi Palace today that both of us are of Ottoman roots.  Terry's ties are manifested in their design sense.  Think goldm, abundant gardens and opulence.  For me, it's all about the comfort.  There isn't a room in the palace (at least in those visited by the sultans) that didn't feature SERIOUS couches.  Typically, the sultan met with no one other than the grand vizier and, of course, the concubines.  It would seem that he did nothing that didn't involve reclining on pillows on a couch (or throne).  When foreign dignitaries came to call, the sultan, of course, couldn't sully himself by meeting them in person (the vizier did this), but he would sit in a receiving 'pavilion' on a bed with pillows and the dignitaries would parade past a giant window with their 'offerings' of gifts.  Don't be surprised to find me employing this custom during your next visit to our house.  The 'palace' is really a campus of buildings and pavilions that were built by each sultan.  It's the size of the UC campus.  Each has a specific purpose, e.g., Circumcision Pavilion or Sporting Pavilion (the sultan would sit in his pavilion and watch sporting events on the lawn:

American Rant:  as two PERFECT visitors to any country in the world, we've decided that the Americans aren't the ugliest.  It's the English.  If someone is upset because they can't have 'proper toast' with their breakfast buffet (it's TURKISH, remember?), the tourist is British. End of rant.

After lunch we went underground...to the Basilica Cistern.  What's wrong with THIS concept:  I'm claustrophobic and we're going to go underground into an ancient cistern in a city that has a history of earthquakes?  Right.  I was in.  It was eerie and fascinating at the same time.  We opted not to don 'period attire' and have our pictures taken, so you'll have to let these suffice:

BTW, for those of you who've ever seen Midnight Express (it still haunts me), the American, Brad Davis, goes to the notorious Istanbul Jail (tevkifane).  Here's a view of it from our room.  The accomodations have been improved.  It's now a Four Seasons Hotel.

  Warning:  No pictures for this:

We went to a Turkish bath this evening before dinner.  It seems the only people in Istanbul who only speak Turkish work in the hamami.  You walk in, give them money and they hand you a box with your 'scrubbing thing' (kese) and point you toward a staircase. (women also are tossed a set of panties, but that's another story.  The facilities, once you pay, are completely separate.  We headed upstairs and were directed to a small changing room.  After stripping down and donning our pestemals (it's a think cotton towel that you wrap around yourself.  amazingly, we saw many who couldn't figure out how to do that without having it drop to the ground repeatedly) and were directed into the 'hot room'.  Imagine the Houston Astrodome had been built in the 1500s with the only light being tiny skylights.  In the center of the room is a HUGE marble slab that you lie on while you start the most serious sweating that you have ever done (even if you've lived through a Cincinnati August).  Then, a giant Turk (the extent of his English was, 'From?') used the kese you're given upon entering to exfoliate every inch of your being.  Briskly.  After that, the attendant douses you with copious amounts of soap suds and continues to wash you.  Just when you think you're finished with THIS part, he does a borderline-sadistic pummeling to get you ready for your massage. (I'll admit it, I almost cried at this point--and completely forgot that Terry was somewhere suffering the same fate.)  He then directed me to another room for an oil massage.  This guy was incredible.  It lasted somewhere between 45 minutes and two days.  I can't be certain.  This is followed by another shower (on your own).  After that, my sadistic attendant was back to get rid of the rest of the oil residue from my skin by bathing me again.  Then it's off to cool down, dress and (as suggested by the threatening Turk--whom I'd grown to like--in a Stockholm Syndrome kind of way) tipping for service before we left.  We'll do it again.

Had dinner at a great fish restaurant tonight (Balikci Sabahattin--'Sabahattin the Fish Guy').  All meals begin with an array of cold appetizers (mezes) being offered (you pick those that tempt you).  The incredibly fresh fish was simply grilled and couldn't have been better.  Figs & ice cream, as well as fresh strawberries (REAL fresh strawberries) to dip in powdered sugar rounded out the meal. 

Since the day started gray and spitting rain, we crossed the street to visit the Blue Mosque.  You remove your shoes before entering and carry them in a plastic bag during your visit.  I was embarrassed to hear an American express dismay that his socks would get dirty.  He hadn't seen the carpets covering the floors of the mosque, I guess.  The blue tiles that cover the interior are spectacular and my crappy photography won't give you a true picture of how stunning they are.

 

 

 

 

After touring, we headed to the Grand Bazaar.  (for those of you making odds as to how many rugs we bring home--nary a one) We'd read all about it, seen pics of it--nothing could have prepared us for the actual experience.  There are THOUSANDS of merchants on hundreds of streets and alleyways--and they're all under a roof. 

Most of the shops are tiny and they sell everything from the aforementioned rugs to incredible gold and silver, as well as the most improbable of knock-off designer goods.  The merchants are notoriously assertive.  They have incredible competition and their spiel to passersby is what can make/break a deal.  They all move from language to language trying to get your attention for a moment. (Mein Herr! Como esta? Are you American? I have a brother with a restaurant in Cleveland)  A favorite was witnessing a young Turk say to a young Asian female, "I've seen you somewhere...on tv? (no response)  You Chinese? (nods and continues walking) ...at which point he started to speak in what appeared to be fluent Mandarin.  (she laughed out loud and continued on.)  We were offered tea by a carpet salesman.  I fear that, had I not walked on, we'd be the proud new owners of an antique turquoise carpet that had caught Terry's eye.

After a couple of dizzying hours, we hopped on the tram and headed to 'new' Istanbul (European, not Asian--that will come later this week).  In ten minutes, we were in Taksim Square and starting down the pedestrian shopping frenzy that is Istiklal Caddesi.  It would seem that half of the city's residents are shopping at any given time.  We popped into a kebap house for lunch before continuing down Istiklal with the millions of others walking it.

There's an underground funicular (Tunel) that connects Istiklal with the waterfront.  After descending we walked across the Galata Bridge toward the fish boats that we recognized from yesterday's fish breads. 

Before heading back up the hill to Sultanahmet, we walked through the spice bazaar. 

While nothing as crazy as the Grand Bazaar, the shopkeepers have the same skills and spend every moment, when not coaxing potential customers, tidying their displays.  These guys are merchandising maniacs.  I do mean guys, by the way.  We didn't see a single woman working in a shop today--and very few in restaurants.  I guess that explains why so many of the women of Istanbul were shopping.

We headed back to the hotel and, since it was just across the street, made a tour of Hagia Sophia.  Again, the pics will not suffice, but it is easily as impressive as the Blue Mosque. 

There are also the tombs of sultans and their families.  To visit any of the tombs, you are required to remove your shoes.  Since the crowd here isn't as crazy, you just leave them by the door.  A sultan's tomb, and those of the princes, feature turbans.  Seriously. Terry with the princes.

The sun had come out, so we headed to the rooftop of our hotel for a beer and an opportunity to get a sunburn before taking a well-deserved nap before dinner.

After what seemed like the longest day of travel we've ever experienced, we finally touched down in Istanbul.  We endured a 45 minute line for passport control and we were on our way to our hotel--Seven Hills Hotel in Sultanahmet.  Despite absolute fluency in Tukish, I had difficulty in conveying our destination to the taxi driver.  I fell back on giving the name of the hotel across the street and he understood.  Istanbul has 15 million residents and they all seemed to be on the road from the airport to the hotel--but the driver was a trooper and wove his way through much stopped/slow traffi

The hotel is absolutely charming and the staff incredible from the get-go.  Like most of the small hotels in Sultanahmet, the building is a former Ottoman mansion converted to a hotel.  There are easily a hundred of these in the neighborhood.  Our location couldn't be better--we're, quite literally, across the street from Hagia Sophia and the Blue Mosque (and the tram line that winds its way across the Golden Horn to Taksim.    As soon as the doorman had deposited us in our room, we experienced our first 'call to prayer'.  The window was open and a voice began an exotic chant.  After  about five minutes, the voice fell silent and business continued on the street.  Actually, it didn't appear that anyone on the street paid any attention to the call--they just kept hustling to get wherever they were headed.

We headed out to get a feel for the neighborhood.  If there are 15 million residents in Istanbul, there are half-again as many tourists.  Within our first 15 minutes of wandering, we were asked to take photos (Terry used an iPhone!) and were asked for directions--twice.  After marveling over the Hagia Sophia and Blue Mosque from the enormous, and very crowded park surrounding them, we followed the tram tracks down the hill, past Topkapi Palace, Sirkeci Station (the old Istanbul terminus of the Orient Express) and ended up in the bedlam called Eminonu (magine that I've figured out how to add umlauts).  Eminonu is an absolutely crazy nexus of ferries to Asia, tram lines, the subway line to Asia (brand new) and half the busses in the city.  It was also where we decided to get a bite to eat.

 

Bobbing on the Golden Horn, a series of 'Fish Bread' boats sell the greatest fish sandwich at an amazing pace.  The boats look like a fishing boat in the same way that Liberace looked like a simple piano player.  We joined the hundreds of others seated at freashishly-small tables and chairs to enjoy the chaos (and the fish).  We were starting to fade fast and headed back to the hotel to catch up on our missed sleep.