Text and photos by Mary L. Peachin
July, 2012, Vol. 16, No. 8
Earthy smells of roasting chestnuts lead to corner vendors. Beyoğlu’s Istikla pedestrian mall, crammed with multi-cultural shoppers, reminds one of a car-less New York 5th Avenue, even the 212 area code is the same as the Big Apple. But, the similarities end here.
This is Istanbul. The Turkish city, spanning both the continents of Europe and Asia, is separated by the Bosporus River and its Golden Horn estuary. Traffic is a nightmare. Speeding cars weave across lanes or they run traffic lights like children in an amusement park bumper car. It is not unusual for commuters to find themselves trapped in hour-long traffic jams.
The city’s density is apparent by viewing wall to wall high rise buildings set on undulating hills, a rainbow of color edged by Istanbul’s waterways. Streets and sidewalks, most in disrepair, require a continual awareness of your next footstep.
Our fall cultural adventure to Istanbul was different from travelers who cruise or take organized tours. For three weeks, we rented a historic district Fener “penthouse”, www.VRBO.com Property 299672, overlooking the Golden Horn. We would be independent, enjoying a cultural immersion without an itinerary as we experienced Turkey’s attractions,.
That’s easier said than done. Turkey is a destination where English communication is almost impossible. In Istanbul, outside of popular tourists areas, signs are not translated. Most Turks do not speak English, which makes communication almost impossible.
Greeted at airport arrivals by our landlord, Baris An, he drove through the neighborhood before introducing us to the apartment. Located on the third floor, three flights of steep winding rail-less marble stairs, we looked out a wall of windows with a door at a wrought iron garden terrace. Our location provided a great view of the Golden Horn’s Marmara Sea.
The apartment had a bedroom, with an adjacent twin bed in an alcove near the door. IKEA furnished, the apartment had many amenities: a kitchen with both a clothes washer/dryer, dishwasher, microwave, refrigerator, and a hot plate for cooking. The spacious bathroom had heated bath towel racks. The loft type vaulted wood ceiling had open skylights in each room. The one in our queen bedroom, had a pull shade to keep out sunlight.
Overcoming the time zone change was complicated by the sunrise Call to Prayer. Each morning, David walked down to the bakery as warm freshly baked sesame covered bagel-like rolls came out of the wood burning over. Spread with local honey, we also enjoyed yorgurt, and a slice of melon.
After our leisurely breakfast, we looked at our guidebooks to plan the day. We either visited an attraction or bazaar by taking a taxi to the Spice Bazaar. From there, we took the tram to the Sultanamet and its tourist attractions or a ferry across the Bosphrous to wander the Asian sidewalk markets.
Sosyal Tesisleri, our neighborhood restaurant, was operated by the municipalty. They served good basic food, bread without butter, and a sealed cup of mineral water. In observance of Muslim traditions, no alcohol was served.
From head to tail, the grilled unidentified fish, paled in comparison to egglant in tomato sauce and a serving of heart of artichoke hearts. Being the only foreigners, we were unable to inquire about our dining options. With few restaurants in the area, we soon became regulars. They called us by name and heartedly welcomed us.
The evening of our arrival, after dinner, we hurried to buy breakfast supplies before nearby neighborhood markets closed. We bought magarine rather than butter, a yorghurt drink rather than the real stuff, and a delicious ready to eat melon selected by a stall owner. It tasted like a crenshaw, but had the yellow and green appearance of a winter squash.
Returning to Müstanîk Street, our local shopping area, the next morning, we wandered down the narrow cobblestone and brick street, probably not repaired since it was built. Sidewalks were narrow with drying laundry and frequent building obstructions. Walking in the street was easier, but that rquired keeping a keen ear to jump on the curb for traffic approaching in either direction. We found a small grocer with a few identifiable products. This would be a trip without peanut butter. Instead we would enjoy a lot of delicious honey.
Istanbul’s 4,000 shop Grand Bazaar appeared cleaner and more orderly than those in Cairo, Egypt and Marrakesh, Morocco. While we were frequently approached, “is it my turn” (to sell you), we escaped unscathed.
We found the Spice Bazaar also known as the Egyptian Market, built by Turhan Sultan in 1663, more typical and interesting that the Grand Bazaar.
Located near the New Mosque (Yeni Cami) many vendors sell baharat (spices), nuts, honeycombs, and olive-oil soaps. Lokum, a “Turkish delight” sweet candy and pestil (dried pressed fruits.) Since 1901, Pandli, is one of Istanbul’s and the Bazaar’s oldest restaurants with some recent competition from Bab-i-Hayet. The former, where we ate, is definitely on the tourist route.
Another time, we chose a Fodor’s recommendation to Giritli, a prix fixed menu that included all your can drink—beer, wine, and anise-flavored Turkish raki liquor. The decor was nice with excellent service, but they served too much food.
Beyoğlu lies above the shores of the Golden Horn and Bosphorus between Atatürk Bridge and Kabatas. After visiting its fish stalls, we took a tram to Istikla, a pedistrain boulevard lined with upscale, more European style shops. On weekends twenty-somethings pack the mall or nearby Galatasaray. People carried shopping bags from stores with names recognized world-wide. A variety of buskers lined the street.
Having purchased tickets to a show performance by Sufi Whirling Dervich, we arrived an hour early. We had no knowledge that daylight savings time had gone in to effect.
The somber show is a Sufi (Muslim sect) religious ceremony. Backed by musicians, the whirlers, dressed in a white flowing outfit and brown fez-like head piece put themselves in a trance to be at one with Allah.
A trip to Istanbul should include the experience of visiting a hamman. The Cagaloğlu hamman, located in Sultan Ahmet Square was built in 1741. The cleansing rituals in a Turkish steam bath in this Ottoman domed marble edifice is listed by author Patricia Schultz’ “1,000 Places to See Before You Die.”
The picturesque and famous Blue Mosque, an icon of Istanbul’s skyline, is unique for having six minarets. Built between 1609 and 1616, it was painstakingly decorated with glazed tiles. The interior of its domes are ornately painted.
Another day we took a Turkish Flavors tour where we got of an indsider’s view of the markets. We looked at lamb hoofs in the offal (organ) meat shop and tasted many fresh, homemade spices at Ucuzular Baharat. We then took the ferry to see the Asia side street markets and have lunch at Ciya’s, a restuarant that became our favorite.
Selin, our tour guide, asked if we would like to join her on a visit to Brodrum. Prior to our trip, we had been told that the weather would be cold and we would not be able to rent a gulet, a Turkish wooden boat in which tourists typically cruise the Turquoise Coast. Being independent, we might have surprised her by joining her the next day.
In Bodrum, we stayed at the charming Yarbasan Vacation Homes. The complex has been designed to resemble a Roman village. We had our own “home” that included a kitchen, den, and living room.
The first evening we were welcomed to join the innkeeper owner’s (twelve of us) family and friends. Multiple Turkish dishes were served with fresh barbecued bonito and bluefish, the latter a seasonal specialty. All was joyously washed down toasting with distilled raki liquer.
Our “home” had a demo kitchen and after a morning visit to a local farmers market with several blocks of freshly harvested fruit and vegetables, we had a cooking lesson in Turkish cuisine.
It was such a pleasure to return to Istanbul on Atlas Airlines. No baggage fees, flight changes, plus quality meal service, and friendly attendants.
Kurban Bayram holiday, the Muslim Feast of the Sacrifice, closed most of Turkey’s shops, restaurants, and attractions for the next three days.
The fish sandwich served at small tables and stools at the end of the Galata Bridge is known as an “Istanbul Institution.” For about $3.00 locals eat small fried fish filets in a large bun with onions and lettuce. Some were drinking pomegrante juice with fruit, pickles, and cabbage. It may be the thing to do, but. we could have passed on it.
Our congenial landlords took us to Set Baht Lokantasi for delicious fish menzes (tapas). On the way home we stopped in a contemporary high rise mall to have ice cream dessert. Mado ice cream, richly made with goat’s milk, is eaten with a knife and fork.
His number is 577 055 07. If you happen to hail this taxi, don’t get in. Giving the cabbie explicit Turkish written directions, when he did not cross a bridge familiar to us, we realized that we were going “on another ride.” The trip to a restaurant had cost us $7.00 TL, the meter was now passing $20.00 TL. We pointed in a different direction than where we were headed as the shouting match escalated. The cabbie drove down narrow roads until guards stopped him at gated neighborhoods. The various guards had no idea of our destination. We couldn’t get out of the cab without being near traffic to find another one. Seeing two security guards in an isolated park, we jumped out of the cab and asked them to call the police. The taxi driver became more irate, yelling, waving his arms, and asking for money. The guards recommended that we get back into the cab. I called our Turkish-speaking landlord, told him our problem, handed the phone to the guard, then the battery died.
When the police arrived, we were prepared for the worse. Out of the darkness, a man with a tray of tea arrived. The taxi driver hastily grabbed one as did the police and security guards. The upshot was that the police asked us to give the cabbie ten bucks, and he begrudgeingly left. They called another cab, asked us for $10.00, gave it to the new driver, and told him he could not charge us more than the $10.
Another day, Baris took us to Çamlicaq Park which is located on Istanbul’s highest hill. We stopped at Sosyal Tesisler restaurant to sip tea and Sahlep, a drink made from hot goat’s milk and topped with cinamon, very delicious.
For lunch, Baris took us to Lider Pide. It is noted for serving the city’s best pita, a homemade bread stuffed with cheese or meat or a combination of both. The dough is rolled and baked after it is ordered.
Three weeks passed quickly. We saw many of Istanbul’s tourist attraction and made brief flights to Bodrum and Capadocia. We were fortunate to not have the summer crowds, and while the city was bustling, we could take time to enjoy it. None of this would have been possible without the help of our landlord including his lending us a computer.
If you go: www.VRBO.com Property 299672
Sidebar:
Turkish Flavors
Tourists may be more familiar with Istanbul’s Grand Bazaar, but, we found the Spice Bazaar or Egyptian Market to be more interesting. In order to glean a better insider’s knowledge of a bazaar where most shops appear to sell the same goods, we joined owner Selin Rozanes’s Turkish Flavors tour.
Selin began her tour at her favorite fish stall, which happen to be located next to the offal vendor. Turks enjoy eating organ food so the stall which sold brains, lamb heads, heart, and hoofs, all considered healthy for bones and regenerating cartilage, were our introduction to the Market.
At many different shops, Selin and her collegue Taciser Ayvaz would introduce us to a sample of some Turkish delicacy. We sampled tastings of feta and string cheese, green olives, Turkish coffee, and sweet Turkish Delight, a Turkish sweet.
At shop #51 in the Spice Bazaar, a young woman named Bilge introduced us to many spices. Giving us a wooden coffee stirrer, we tasted many samples of her extensive spice inventory. She explained the high cost of saffron, which is picked by hand in neighboring Iran, and varieties of flowered honey. Those of us who purchased some of the spices had them vacuum-packed. Bilge adviced us that they will last a year in the refrigerator.
Taking a twenty minute ferry, we motored to Asia’s side of Istanbul. After browsing along open air street markets selling fish, pastry, nuts, fruits and vegatables, we headed to Ciya, owned by renowned chef Mesa Dagdeviren. Located in Kadiköy, we sampled local preferences served at the popular award winning restuarant.
Much of what we were served was a first time tasting for our group of three Australians, four Americans, and an ex-pat living in Budapest. After a full day of touring,
Selin and Taciser bid us and our satiated appetites goodbye.