After flying for 10 hours across all of Asia in one shot, we were in Istanbul. We woke up the poor manager of Alzer Hotel at 5:30AM and he showed us to our adorable typically-tiny European room with the first real hotel artwork we had seen in months, from paintings in our room of nargil (water pipe) smoking in Turkish cafes to beautiful ceramic tile work in the corridors with natural hues of blue, green, and red. Later, walking along hilly curving cobblestone streets amidst dark clouds and cold drizzling rain, we knew we were in Europe. Smelling juicy chicken shwarmas spinning before us while the friendly purveyor asked us bluntly where we’re originally from and busted out with some Farsi, we knew we were still in Asia too. Thus goes a clichéd but seemingly accurate description of this city that literally straddles two continents.We spent the bulk of the afternoon blogging as we awaited the arrival of our dear friends Kiran and Vivek. We were so excited to look up from our hotel lobby to see them walking across the famed Hippodrome towards us – it was the beginning of an unforgettable time with them. That night we ate a good dinner and caught up on each other’s lives. Kiran is 5+ months pregnant and all is well. She told us how the baby loves chocolate, and in fact that night during dessert he started kicking in appreciation as if on cue. It was such a treat to catch up with good friends, though real life back in San Francisco seemed so distant and even scary.
The next day we started a morning tradition of breakfast on the top floor of our hotel, which was just awesome. After we cut fresh bread, gathered dried figs, walnuts, raisins, real honeycomb, natural apricot and strawberry jams, nutella, and cereal (all but Madhavi’s preference), or had bread with olives, feta cheese, tomatoes, and cereal (Madhavi’s preference) along with cherry or orange juice and tea from a samovar, we would sit at a table and look out at the panoramic views of our European-side peninsula and its most famous structures from which the Byzantine and Ottoman emperors ruled vast swathes of the world for centuries. Just as they did, we would watch the sun rising in Asia on the other side of the Bosphorus (the famed strait connecting the Mediterranean and Black Seas and partly dividing Europe from Asia).We then headed out and started our 3-day plan to see the town. Kiran, who had studied the guide book and read much about Istanbul beforehand, led us with skill. We started by walking 10 feet onto the Hippodrome,
where an Egyptian obelisk shared space with an ancient 3-headed snake, and then saw the Blue Mosque, a magnificent defining Ottoman-style structure with 6 towering minarets and a magical glow from the lights that flood it at night. Inside I was most impressed by how many Iranian tourists there were, though I did make the effort to get the best possible pictures of the place by using Madhavi’s head as a stand for my tripod (a technique that does not work at all). Later we got lost and found ourselves escaping the rain in a very cute teashop with pretty carpet-like tabletops drinking Turkish coffee (which is really strong) and fresh apple tea, the latter being what we stuck with the rest of the time. When we found our way, we checked out the gaudy but sometimes gorgeous excesses, including jewels and art and booty, of the Ottomans in Topkapi Palace. Vivek, along with Kiran, provided excellent historical and geographic pearls as we toured these sights. Part of the joy of traveling with them was their genuine interest in discussing and learning about countries and places we saw rather than just indulging – though we certainly did some of that too, don’t get me wrong.
Getting lost, it turned out, became a somewhat recurring theme and each time (as expected) it would bring with it interesting experiences, like being just a few hundred meters away from the a main tourist drag but seeing no tourists but rather just quiet streets with cute homes and regular shops and eventually ending up at the beautiful Mini Haghia Sophia, where the four of us were graciously allowed in by the gatekeeper and were able to amble around a humble centuries-old mosque with a carefully restored interior of bright blues and whites for 20 minutes without a single other person there.
Over the next couple days we saw fascinating sights like the actual Haghia Sophia, Istanbul’s most famous structure, which was originally built in the 7th century by the Byzantine Christians and later modified by the Ottoman Muslims and contains colorful mosaics of Jesus and saints alongside striking Islamic calligraphy and ceramic work. Now functionally a museum only, it is less than beautiful on the outside due to careless fortifications of the past, but the interior dome is awesome and for many years that dome was the world’s greatest.
We descended down into cavernous Basilica Cistern, where the hundreds of columns support this very old and for many years secret underground reservoir (that now holds occasional concerts which we were not fortunate enough to see). We walked alongside the colorful stalls of the Grand Bazaar and Spice Bazaar, where Kiran and Vivek bought a beautiful Persian carpet and very cool Turkish tile ceramics. Our boat trip down the Bosphorus, the river that separates Europe and Asia, was fun though cold – Vivek and I ran around taking pictures against the cold cross-wind while Madhavi and Kiran cuddled to stay warm.Other particularly memorable moments were tea at the immaculate and tastefully decorated Four Seasons, going back again and again to this small neighborhood joint (name escapes us) to sit upstairs and eat wonderful lamb and chicken shwarmas, going to Asitane for a rare chance to eat some of the very dishes served hundreds of years ago to the Ottoman King (most of which were nearly lost to history by royal secrecy) while listening to live classical Turkish music, and a night out in the uncomfortably wild and super-hip happening section of town called Nevizade, where we just escaped into the least smoky place we could find for a good dinner while the beautiful people laughed and stared and acted the night away just outside.
One unforgettable experience was going to a Turkish bath with Vivek. Imagine descending down the steps of a 400+ year old bathhouse and paying $50 to bake on a marble slab in the historic bath/sauna with 15 other guys and becoming dehydrated and light-headed before finally Igor the 1976 Turkish Olympic wrestling champion exfoliates you with a giant scrub and then bends you like a pretzel almost snapping you in half while pouring unnecessarily warm water on your overheating body and telling you afterwards that he’ll be waiting at the door for a “tip”. Somehow Vivek remembers this experience fondly. Madhavi was in the women’s section and was handled more gently. Kiran, being pregnant, wisely opted out. Istanbul was wonderful, as above, but could be maddening too. There was a fair share of deceit and trickery (like a cabbie asking for way too much money in the first place and then topping it off with a sleight-of-hand trick where he turns your $50 bill into a $5 bill and tells you didn’t pay enough – Vivek, you weren’t just imagining it, the same thing happened to us after you guys left). Most people were great, though, and overall this Muslim country (like Malaysia), though recently relying on IMF bailouts and still quite corrupt, is prospering with booming tourism, 6 zeros removed from its now stable currency, an increasingly genuine democracy, and apparently a pretty cool music scene. Much of this can be attributed to one person, Ataturk, who in one of history’s great upsets defeated European naval powers in WWI to maintain control of strategic Istanbul before virtually single-handedly creating the new country of Turkey and taking it along a blazing path of modernization that included a secular government and replacing Arabic script with Roman. He is absolutely revered and his picture is everywhere; it’s a somewhat less cultish version of the King of Thailand phenomenon.
On our last day in Istanbul, after returning from Jordan, Madh and I said goodbye to Kiran and Vivek, which was sad as we had such a great time with them. We smoked nargils in a tiny 4-table red wall joint then ran around in the wind and rain desperately trying to get money out of any ATM. We finished with a night in a packed restaurant where locals were nice enough to let us sit at their table where we all drank some Arak (the Turk’s beloved black licorice alcohol, which they drink like water) while a band of musicians went to each table and boisterously played Turkish favorites. It was a lovely way to end our stay, and after we had fallen for the sleight-of-hand trick earlier in the night, it was so great that our last cab driver (donning the traditional Muslim cap) not only charged too little but absolutely refused to take more even though we insisted.
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