My days here in Istanbul have, at least for now, come to an end. Tomorrow morning I fly to Cairo to spend the winter with Reda and his family. Whoever would have thought!! But before both my thoughts and this blog are filled with all things Egyptian, I have a few last memories of my time here in Istanbul that simply must be shared.
Motorcycles on the sidewalk…
Even after two months I still found this hard to get used to. In the states the police would be having a conniption fit, but here it is simply the norm. So pedestrians beware!
One of the many pedestrian/car/motorcycle thoroughfares in Kadikoy.
The intricate language of car horns…
Whether it is the quick, short bleep of a cab trying to get your attention, the longer blast of a driver asking you to get out of the way, or the sustained blaring of a frustrated driver stuck where he doesn’t want to be, there is no escaping the horn here in Istanbul. For those of us used to quieter American streets, this city can seem impossibly loud, but with just a little effort you can develop the ability to tune most of the noise out.
The carters…
The Medieval historian in me is simply delighted every time I see one of these vendors pushing their battered, wooden, flat-topped, two-wheeled carts through the streets. Each cart is filled with a fascinating variety of salvaged items and the repeated call of these vendors to come and sample their wares makes a wonderful counterpoint to the language of the car horns. Add the calls from market and shop vendors to the mix and you have the music of Istanbul. It is sweet indeed.
Turkish football…
This is European-style football, remember, so we are talking soccer here and the Turks take it very very seriously. Game time is festival time here in Istanbul and you will be hard-pressed to find an empty seat at a restaurant, café or bar with access to the broadcast. But if you are wearing the right team colors you can almost always find similarly dressed folks happy to squeeze you in. While completing my TEFL training my flat was less than a block from Fenerbahce stadium. There were games the first and last weekend I was there and the cheering was so loud it literally rattled the house, but it did make memorable bookends to my stay.
Fenerbahce Stadium. The grocery store where I sometimes shopped (Migros) is in the lower left.
Tea…
It is practically it’s own food group here in Istanbul. In Turkish it is called cay (pronounced chai) and Gwenda and I affectionately learned to refer to its ubiquitous presence as the cay-V. Sweet or straight it is not to be missed. If you are up and about in the early morning (that’s after 8am, see the next entry for the explanation) you can also have the added treat of seeing trays of the characteristic tulip-shaped glasses of the stuff carried along the street from shop to shop.
The late starts…
In the states we are used to 24-hour service and 7am (or earlier) store openings. Although not a morning person myself, I must admit that this mentality has instilled in me a deeply-rooted sense of guilt whenever I am not up and working by 7am myself. But here it is very different. During school my habit was to leave my flat around 8am and go to the Starbucks by the port to meet Gwenda. We would enjoy our morning beverages, study, commiserate and chat for a few hours before going to school which usually started around 10am. At first I was disconcerted by the fact that nearly all of the stores were still closed during my morning walk and that even the open markets themselves were only just coming to life. But soon I realized that these later starts weren’t such a bad thing after all and I began to truly enjoy walking through Kadikoy and seeing her come to life. If you are ever here, you should definitely try this yourself.
The coffeshops…
They are everywhere. You cannot throw a teabag without hitting at least a dozen cafés with small tables and chairs set along the sidewalk. It is a reminder to slow down and take a break every once in a while which is something I think we in the West would benefit from doing more often. My personal nostalgic favorite is the small shop which sat atop a high stone wall in Karakoy. Reda and I spent part of an evening there once and the view to the street below, framed by trees and shrubs, was simply enchanting. We sat out on the terrace and sipped our tea in quiet, shared contemplation, enjoying the night and each other's company. The entrance to the café itself was through a small rounded stone archway. It looked so much like a hobbit hole (and the delicate white smoke drifting out from the water pipes being smoked within only added to this illusion) that I half expected to see Bilbo and Gandalf sitting at the next table. One of the best things about Istanbul is that with only a very small effort it is very easy to find yourself a world away.
The parks…
These are also everywhere. There was a very nice, tree and path filled one near my flat that ran parallel to the channel leading out into the Sea of Marmara and most mornings as I walked to school it was filled with a delicate mist. It was marvelous. My other personal favorite is the small, marble statute filled park overlooking the Bosphorus in Karakoy where Reda and I strolled on his way back to the Cristal the same night as above. We joked half-heartedly about curling up together on a bench to spend the few remaining hours before sunrise but duty and practicality prevailed. However, I never could help but smile whenever I passed that park again.
Above: the park near my flat in Kadikoy. Below: the marble statue park in Karakoy.
The Turkish Art of Jaywalking…
No words can describe this. You either simply step off the curb and go or spend your afternoon watching from the sidewalk. Adrenaline junkies will love it. There is also no better way to separate the natives from the tourists.
The food…
Balik corbasi and midye dolma…..aaahhhhh. Fish soup and stuffed mussels. It simply doesn’t get any better. But other notable mentions are the jacket (or stuffed) potatoes and the cold cooked spinach with copious quantities of garlic and olive oil. I highly recommend them all.
The customs…
It’s the ones they don’t put in the guidebook that will trip you up the most. For example, I make the “A-OK” sign with my thumb and forefinger all the time, far more than I realized, but here in Turkey it means something else entirely. So future travelers be warned…unless you want to advertise a predilection for the same sex don’t make this sign!
Finding the familiar…
I can neither describe nor explain the sense of great joy I felt that first weekend upon rounding a corner in Sultanahmet and finding a UPS Store. I guess even the most intrepid travelers still need that familiar reminder of home.
…but not always.
That first week after completing TEFL training was an equally intense experience in coming down off of an academic high. As a result, by the end of the week I was ready to forgo my habitual evening meal of fresh and healthy Turkish culinary delights and go instead for some oh-so-bad-for-you, all-American comfort food. I was thinking pizza and although there are Pizza Huts here (Reda and I ate at one during his first visit to Kadikoy) I was feeling particularly indulgent and lazy and didn’t want to make the hike to the nearest one. So instead I headed for the nearest grocery (which also happened to be on the way back to the flat) figuring that finding what I sought would be no problem. After all, in the states we literally have entire aisles dedicated to nothing but frozen pizzas. How hard could this be? I struck out at the first store but since it was fairly small thought I would surely be able to find my prize at the much larger Migros. No luck there either. I tried a third grocery. Nada. It was odd to experience my first real culture shock over the lack of frozen pizza and I must say I wasn’t very proud of it, but I kept on hunting. At the fourth store I finally located a very small package of four pizzas for about $15. I wanted my comfort food but not that bad. So I decided to go with Plan B: macaroni and cheese. Apparently it doesn’t exist here either. I finally had to settle for the nearest substitute I could find: tortellini with feta and spinach. No wonder everyone here is so thin!
The Bazaars…
You cannot go far here in Istanbul without running into one and despite their practiced ability to overwhelm they are a heck of a lot of fun. With a little perseverance and patience one can also find some great bargains.
No comments:
Post a Comment