Istanbul: A Turkish Delight | Day Six

Our last day in Istanbul was a long one, since we checked out of the hotel in the morning and didn’t have a home base until we left for the airport at 11 p.m. Yes, we made the brilliant decision to “sleep at the airport” to save time and money. Props to Sarah who actually had a civilized departure time (9 a.m.), yet stayed with me for my insanely early flight (5 a.m.).

When you book a flight months in advance, one tends to forget early mornings aren’t as congenial as they sound in a foreign city. But somehow, when booking travel, I subscribe to the notion that saving $50 on a roundtrip is worth the 2 a.m. wakeup call required to make a 5 a.m. flight. Or in the case of my flight from Istanbul, no wakeup call at all and instead pulling an all-nighter. 

But before spending six hours in an airport lounge, we had the entire day to entertain ourselves in what had quickly become a new favorite city (don’t worry Oxford, London, and Denver…you’re all still in my top three). Conquering the Grand Bazaar earlier that week, we decided to stop by one last time for some shopping in the eleventh hour for any items that had been plaguing our conscience.

En route to the Süleymaniye Mosque—the second largest in the city—we stopped by some other attractive mosques, taking advantage of their open door policies. It's such a strange and wonderful feeling to wander in and out of mosques in Turkey. Each one was more impressive than the last, ending with Süleymaniye, which had a comforting vibe. Admiring the ornate carpet, I was reminded that we were in the land of a million rugs and the Turks truly know what they’re doing when it comes to carpet creation. 

For lunch we dined outside the chaos of the Spice Market in an Iskender doner shop serving up fast, affordable, and delish fries and lamb kebab in tomato sauce (trying to match the previous day’s experience, but nothing will top that). It was a well-oiled machine on the interior, with young men working hard for the money as they scurried in and out and up and down the restaurant. I felt like we were in the real heart of the city, at the cusp of commerce near the market and where the locals seemed to do their local shopping. 

We spent the afternoon aimlessly wandering the city soaking in the sights, and eventually decided to take the tram to Taksim Square to be entertained by the masses and architecture. This time we looked beyond the materialistic and instead at the incredible buildings residing behind the dozens of stores. Past some gates, we discovered the dainty St. Anthony of Padua Church—the largest Catholic church in Istanbul. It looked more like a decorated gingerbread house than a church, and that was part of the allure. 

Just up the street from St. Anthony of Padua, we stumbled upon a crowd jamming out to self-proclaimed gypsy-rock-cabaret band Into the Moon. Based in Paris, this duo (typically a trio) was rocking it and filling Istiklal Caddesi with fun, foot-tapping tunes. Buying their CD wasn’t a choice, more like a must and for 10 lira I certainly couldn’t complain. Now whenever I want to get transported back to my time in Istanbul, I pop in the demo and feel the music.

A quick late-night snack and round of tea enlivened us before our journey to the airport. The Art City Hotel kindly stored our bags that day and arranged a trip to the airport by shuttle that cost about 20 lira each—about the same price as a taxi, but less stressful. We arrived at Ataturk Airport at about 11 p.m. and since we couldn’t check in or drop our bags off, we were forced to take up residence at a coffeeshop outside of security. If you’re planning an all-nighter at this airport, don’t get your hopes up. 

Buying an overpriced pastry and bottle of water secured our spot at Gloria Jeans (must be the Canadian in me, couldn’t just sit in their overstuffed chairs and use their free wi-fi without making a purchase). Dozing in and out of consciousness alongside Sarah, I questioned my decision to do the airport sleepover, but by the time 4:00 a.m. rolled around, I was thankful to be at my departure gate. 

Three hours of discomfort on a cramped Lufthansa flight later, I arrived in Frankfurt where I had a five-hour layover (did I mention I’ll do anything for a cheaper flight?). At least here I could practice my German speaking skills, buy legit Ritter Sport advent calendars for my brother and myself, and devour some authentic Haribo gummibears. You know you’re jealous.

The next leg of the journey consisted of a ten-hour direct flight to Denver, made an hour longer due to fog in Germany. Highly recommend you fly anything but Lufthansa, as this plane was stuck in the 90s and not in a good Third Eye Blind and dot-com-boom kind of way. I had no idea traveling on Lufthansa meant time travel, as I could have sworn I was transported to when Clinton and Shroeder were still in office due to the outdated facilities on this pathetic plane. And to make matters worse, Larry Crowne was playing on loop. It’s tough to find a decent airline these days, but trust me that this one should be at the bottom of your list for transatlantic flights.

Once in Denver, I hitched a ride from a friend and couldn’t quite believe I was driving along the Rocky Mountains when the night before I had been dancing in the streets of Istanbul.  The line from “Istanbul (Not Constantinople)” will always resonate: “Now it’s Turkish delight on a moonlit night.” I was lucky enough to have six moonlit nights in Istanbul and I’ll always think fondly of this city. It was so familiar, yet so foreign from anything I had experienced before. So beautiful, yet practical. A city full of life and history and culture. A city that captured my heart and my mind.

Istanbul: A Turkish Delight | Day Five

It took twenty minutes and a buck to go to Asia for a day. Istanbul is wow-worthy for a lot of reasons, including the fact it consists of 13 million people, spread over two continents. While the European side is infused with tourists, the Asian side felt more authentic and was an ideal excursion to gain a deeper sense of what this city is all about. 

We headed to the ferry terminal where free-standing machines doled out the 2 lira tokens needed for each way. I highly recommend securing both tokens on this side, as it’s straightforward and a guaranteed cheap price. The commuter ferry docked and there was a mad rush to get on, even though the spacious interior allowed for plenty of seating. Twenty minutes along the Bosphorus and we arrived in Kadıköy. There are tons of options for traveling the high Sea of Marmara around Istanbul, including day-long trips on fancy ferry boats…but the commuter ferry and our hop, skip, and jump to Kadıköy was perfect. If you’re there in the summer, it will be worth exploring your island options.

Upon stepping foot on Asian soil, we celebrated via high five the fact we were indeed in Asia for the first time. We wandered through a fresh market where the smell of fish pervaded our senses. Then an arcade with a string of used bookstores made for interesting perusing, despite the understandable lack of English titles. Our exemplary navigational skills that landed us in Asia successfully deserved a culinary reward and so we indulged at Baylan Patissiere for Kuy Griye (pronounced by yours truly the French way as coup grillet). A layered caramel concoction that’s certainly worth the 12 lira price tag, the Kuy Griye literally melted in my mouth. The kind waiter then helped point us in the direction of the largest bookstore in Turkey: ALKIM. 

After doing our publishing roots proud by checking out the local brick and mortar bookstore scene, we found a coffee house for a truly Turkish experience. Up until this point I’m not ashamed to admit we resorted to the always reliable Starbucks for the daily caffeine jolt, but it was time to (wo)man up and go for the real deal. Turkish coffee is legendary: strong and flavorful, I expected to swoon over this javalicious brew. Instead, I winced in near pain as the swampy, sooty half liquid/half dirt trickled down my throat. I wanted to like it, hell I wanted to love it…but it was a no go. The coffee house itself provided fortune telling based on the dredges of the coffee left behind in your cup, but considering it was all in Turkish, we resisted the 20 lira combo deal.

With the taste of soot still swirling around my mouth, we needed to cleanse our palettes with something delicious. We passed by a little wooden restaurant sporting a “Since 1867” sign and decided to give it a try. Little did I know, it would end up being one of the best meals of my life. 

Upon entering Kabepci Iskender, we were seated by a few men, who quickly retrieved the only English-speaking waiter in the joint. He offered us a sample of sira (fermented non-alcoholic grape juice), and when we determined it was sweet and delicious, he brought us full glasses. The limited menu simply features doner kebab in varying portion sizes, so for 21 lira we each ordered the single portion. While we waited, we read about the storied history of this special eatery—a place that really capitalized on the process and brand of their product. And we could see why: the lamb doner soon arrived and quick on its heels was a man clad in white carrying a sizzling pan. Inside? Melted sheep’s butter. He poured it over the doner plate and didn’t wait around to watch our utter delight. 

 

A single bite secured the fact this was a spectacular meal in front of us: sliced pita under a delectable tomato sauce, swimming in tender pieces of seasoned lamb presumably cut right off the spit. And did I mention the sizzling sheep’s butter? C’mon. Best. Meal. Ever. The only thing that made the experience better was that afterward, as we shopped for tea in the grocery store across the street, our waiter appeared with a shopping bag I had left behind. What service! Well played, Iskender. Well played.

That night we were mesmerized by a Whirling Dervish ceremony at the Sirkeci Train Station—the end point of the Orient Express. The setting was ideal: brooding ceilings with a touch of architectural prowess. The room was sparse and filled with tourists, but the minute the musicians walked in to serenade us with traditional Sufi music, we were all transported to another world. The dervishes, devout Sufi Muslims, performed their religious ceremony which, as you can rightly assume, consisted of a lot of whirling. And then some more whirling. And for good measure, they whirled some more.

Tickets (40 lira each) go on sale at 5:30 p.m. inside the station. I recommend dropping by when you first arrive in Istanbul to read the sign and find out which nights they perform, because the internet spreads some wildly different ideas about days and times. The ceremony doesn’t start until 7:30, so head across the street for a bite of baklava while you wait. Photography is allowed, but beware: some ceremonies in the area do not allow it as this is a religious ceremony, not a show. 

While the price may deter you, I do recommend it because really, when will you have this sort of opportunity again? The kind of opportunity that allows you to sit at the terminus of the Orient Express and be wowed by authentic dervishes in the Mevlevi order. 

Continue to Day Six...

Istanbul: A Turkish Delight | Day Four

It was time to gear up…store the valuables in the safe, conduct extensive research, and take deep breaths. We were about to go to the legendary Grand Bazaar—one of the oldest and busiest covered markets in the world. 58 streets, 4,000 shops, and about 400,000 visitors daily...this was it. As we approached the entrance, we braced ourselves for manic shopping mania. 

In reality, we were greeted by a glorified mall with people asking you to come into their stores. Yes, they were insistent and persistent, but ultimately (and luckily) it wasn’t the free-for-all we anticipated. 

Moseying up and down the aisles, we peered into shops selling rugs, leather jackets, scarves, and knickknacks. It’s recommended to bargain down to 50% of the asking price. I attempted this tactic for a darbuka (hand drum), but got denied the sale. Later on I negotiated the combination of a darbuka and a hanging candle holder for 40 lira. Was that good deal? Probably not. But knowing that made it easier to swallow. Plus, a very charming store owner made it an easy sell, having his friend from across the way regale us with a percussion performance (he also tried to haggle for a Saturday night out in Istanbul and provided his phone number, but Hasan was out of luck on that front). Everything we ended up buying at the Grand Bazaar was about 25% off street prices…not entirely worth the hassle of haggling. However, it is a special claim to fame to say you haggled for that gorgeous pashmina you’ll be sporting upon your return home. 

What you need to expect at the Grand Bazaar is consistent and constant call-outs. “Where are you from”?” “Wilkommen!” “Which Spice Girl are you?” Some greetings are more authentic and welcoming than others that seemed forced and disinterested. Just have fun with the experience and don’t take it too seriously. Besides our friend Hasan, we eventually purchased several pashmina scarves from an unassuming gentleman who sipped tea as we riffled through his collection. He gave us a deal because we were allegedly the “first customers of the day,” which of course was not true…but the selection was bountiful and he seemed kind. In the end, if it's a reasonable price and you're pleased to give the person your business, that’s all you can really hope for.

After the old Grand Bazaar, we recovered with a freshly squeezed narsuyu (pomegranate juice) for 2.50 lira while sitting in a square just watching the world go by. Next on the agenda: the Spice Market, a busier and more exotic experience than the morning’s shopping adventure. Rows of spices in vibrant colors, people pushing past at every angle, teas in their raw form…it was the experience I was hoping for. Up above the chaos of the market was the quiet and oddly empty Bab-i Hayat restaurant, where we ate a doner with ayran (a plain yogurt drink). While the food was basic, the view more than made up for it as we peered out our window directly into the main hall of the Spice Market. Even the inside décor was fantastic with detailed tiles and a picture perfect ceiling.  

After a day of hectic shopping, we were determined to relax with some nargile—a word that even flares with exotic romance. Being that I am an official citation on the Wikipedia page for hookah thanks to an article I wrote back in 2006, it was only natural we partake in the national pastime of Turkey. We spent an embarrassing amount of time trying to find a place I read about that was supposedly tucked within an Ottoman cemetery. We were about to give up, but then asked a taxi driver to take us…he kindly instructed us that it was just up the street and not worth the fare. He was right! It did exist! Türk Ocağı Kültür Ve Sanat Merkezı Iktisadi Işletmesı Çay Bahçesi appeared as if by magic, perhaps in a puff of smoke we had simply missed before.

We made our way passed the eerily lit tombs and entered a hubbly-bubbly world of tea drinking hookah smokers, all chatting up a storm. The covered porch area blended easily into the cozy interior, where we grabbed a wooden bench and were approached by a waiter. We asked for “elma cay” and “elma nargile” to match (apple on both counts), and he ticked off an order sheet and ran off. Our water pipe soon arrived—delivered by another man—and that was followed by a boy placing glowing orange coals on top of the mechanism. Everyone had a unique job and it was fascinating just to watch the business run. 

Individual mouth pieces were provided so not to spread germs and after a few minutes of “steeping,” we took an apple-flavored puff. The hookah experience cost 12 lira and each apple tea was merely a lira. Though the name itself induced fits of giggles due to its absurd length, Türk Ocağı Kültür Ve Sanat Merkezı Iktisadi Işletmesı Çay Bahçesi soon grew on us…it was a true insight to the inner workings of Istanbul and a peek into the social culture of this vibrant city. 

Continue to Day Five...