La bella vita

I know I’ve been home for a few weeks, and I’m pretty behind on my blog entries. However, I also know that after a trip or an experience the important parts stay with you. So nearly three months later, here’s what stuck out about my eight-day fall break in the weird and wonderful city of Istanbul:

12 Things I Learned in Istanbul

The Turkish baths are just as awkward as they sound. Back in the day, it wasn’t uncommon for people to bathe in public baths, but today it’s more so an outdated tradition than an everyday practice. However, many tourists in Istanbul seek an historical hamam to strip down and lather up with the help of some local hands. (If you’re feeling uncomfortable already then we’re on the right track.) My friends and I decided to go to one of the oldest and most famous Turkish baths in the Sultanahmet district of Istanbul, but once we arrived a few of my friends got cold feet and decided to partake more conservative activities. So remained four of us—four horribly unsuspecting Americans with too tiny towels and one-size-fits-all bathing suit bottoms. God help us.
After a bout of pee-shyness in the bathroom (guys, when I’m extremely uncomfortable I get stage fright), our army of four headed into battle. In the buff. Now for those of you who know me well, I’m not a big fan of getting naked for all to see. My mom especially knows this, as her “Oh relax! We both have the same parts.” argument hasn’t gained any ground since its introduction in 1999. But anyway, as we opened the door to the bath, we were greeted with one of my worst fears: old, fat Turkish women. Oh, and they were naked. Thankfully, there was a little steam to blur the figures, but let me tell you—the sight is seared into my memory. I put on a brave face, and a nice naked lady directed us to a large marble slab in the center of the bath where women of all shapes and sizes were baring all on their too tiny towels. It was like people watching at a naked beach without the beautiful scenery. As a mature young woman of twenty years, I did my best to muffle my hysterical laughter. (Come on, they were very, very naked.) As I sized up my competition, I kept my towel tight around my body. At least I knew my parts were normal. However, there comes a time in everyone’s life when he or she has to ditch the towel and become one of those awful floundering tourists on the marble slab. I couldn’t wait for the shower after the bath.
One by one, my friends were summoned (via splash of water) by their respective washers. Emma was lucky enough to land a sweet old lady with a large gut and the biggest sandbags I’ve ever seen. We called her Princess, which was the name written in rhinestones on her see-through thong. (She was a great girl, but I really questioned her fashion choices.) Finally I was splashed, and it was my turn to get washed. My personal washer wasn’t shy at all, and she didn’t even ask my name before she had her hands all over me. Chivalry, apparently, is very dead. Worse was that the entire time I had an internal battle—to close or not to close my eyes? Did I want to appear to be enjoying it or did I want to see her bare breasts in my face? I went back and forth, but I figured closing my eyes was for the best. However, I was fortunate enough to open my eyes just in time for her to thrust my head into her bosom and scrub my back. It was the longest fifteen minutes of my life.
After my rubdown and subsequent shampoo, I took a dip in a hot bath that made me feel even less clean. Then I left the bath for an oil massage. The massage was great, even though the masseuse was a little handsy. (Since when are boobs not considered “private places”?) Anyway, I left the hamam with a whole lot of “firsts” crossed off my list and enough embarrassment to last a lifetime. However, I said it then and will say it again—I’d definitely go back if I ever have the chance. It was so horribly awkward and uncomfortable that it’ll give me something to laugh about for the rest of my life. Plus, it makes a decent story.

(Sorry, I have no pictures of Princess for you)

2. Turkish men sure know how to sell textiles and pick up a lady. For part of the trip, us
seven girls traveled with one fortunate guy: Andrew. God bless him. Since none of the locals
knew how much Andrew suffered in the presence of seven hormonal twenty-year-old girls,
they often referred to his predicament as “lucky,” and more than one local likened him to
“Charlie” of Charlie’s Angels (which is totally inaccurate because when is Charlie ever spotted
with his Angels?). But I’m getting off-track. Once Andrew escaped us, we were just seven
OK-looking ladies alone in a foreign country. Cue the awkward pick-up lines that
unfortunately cross language barriers. Apart from guessing our home country, Turkish men
love to sell their goods to prospective customers. Yes, I mean jewelry, pottery, textiles, spices,
and other products. Anyway, instead of proceeding with a generic sales-pitch, several men
tried to butter-up female tourists with some interesting one-liners. Here are a few I remember:

When Emma told a seller in the Grand Bazaar that she was from California, he responded without

pause: “Ah, Miss California!”

Emma was called Angelina Jolie and Jennifer Garner (if I remember correctly), which were just

clever ploys to get her business because we all know she’s not that good-looking.

Emma was stopped by a man who said, “Wait, you dropped something.” As Emma scanned the

floor for whatever see had dropped, he said, “You can find it in my shop.” Creepy but clever.

Respect.

A kind seller of tea in the spice market held up some jasmine tea and said to me, “Ah, I think this is

the one for you.” When I asked him why, he took a look at my Coke can and responded, “See,
you drink Coca-Cola and get cellulite. This will help get rid of it!” Oh stop it, you’re making me
blush.

The Grand Bazaar

The Spice Bazaar (the mixed and candied nuts were my favorite!)

3. If you’re going to be a haggler, you don’t have to be a liar too. This story is a bit too long, a bit
confusing, and frankly not that good, so I’ll give you the short version. My dear friend, Emma,
fancied herself an expert haggler in the Grand Bazaar. Feeling clever, she fibbed in an effort to get
a few bracelets for a reduced price. Turns out she’s not an expert haggler and not all that clever;
she got caught lying, and we had a nice time exiting the store to the yell of “LIARS! LIARS!
LIARS!” From then on, I was way too nervous to bargain, so I bought everything for full-price.
Emma and I no longer speak.

Where Emma's haggling debacle went down (the Grand Bazaar) and where I paid full price for everything

4. Turkish cuisine is delicious! Among my favorites were freshly squeezed orange and pomegranate

juice, spicy kebap (kebab), falafel, lentil soup, and mezze (various Mediterranean appetizers). I also
loved the apple tea, which restaurant owners typically offered as a complimentary after-dinner drink.
For dessert, I loved the baklava (chocolate pistachio was probably my favorite!) and various little
fried treats with honey. I had no idea honey was so widely used in Istanbul, but I loved it! All our
meals were relatively cheap too (one day I had a lunch for 3 TL, equivalent to about $1.70 at the
time), which made them taste even better!

Apple Tea

Falafel with hummus

Typical spicy kebap dish

Lentil Soup

One of my favorite honey treats--the name of which I can't pronounce or spell

A shop in a local market that sold one thing: fresh honey

My 3 TL lunch

And I couldn't forget the delivery mopeds we spotted outside BK in Uskudar on the Asian side

5. Istanbul is on both the European and Asian continents. The Bosphorus, “a strait that
connects the Black Sea with the Sea of Marmara” (thank you Mac Dictionary), divides east and
west Istanbul, as well as the eastern European continent and the western Asian continent. We
went to Asia (I guess technically, but not really) two times while we were in Turkey. One of our
last days we took a half-day ferry ride along the Bosphorus and ended at the northernmost stop
where we shook off nausea from the ride and trudged to a mountaintop overlooking the Black
Sea. We also explored the ruins of Yoros Castle on top of the mountain. I think the view is one
of the most gorgeous views I’ve ever seen.

A less touristy area on the Asian side

Haley and Emma (It was a little windy on the ferry!)

View from the ferry

Again...

And again...

On the mountaintop

Group shot with the Black Sea at our backs

View of the northernmost part of the Bosphorus with the Black Sea at the right

Oona and I see-sawing at the top of the mountain

Emma, Haley, and Lauren hanging out on the swings nearby

6. Don’t travel with multiple sufferers of motion sickness, especially in foreign lands. Halfway

through our stay in Istanbul, we switched locations from a flat in Sultanahmet to another flat in
Taksim. I arranged for a van, and once we all fit comfortably with our luggage, I didn’t think there
would be any issues. However, since all foreign drivers are required to have a lead foot, jerky
wheel control, and an unsafe tendency to weave, every passenger must have a steel stomach if he or
she wants to survive a taxi ride without experiencing nausea. None of us have steel stomachs, half
of us were sitting backward in the van, and one of my friends confessed she is prone to getting
carsick. In less than ten minutes, there was a frantic search for plastic bags among excessive back
rubbing and the sound of “please don’t puke” pep talks. During the chaos, Haley looked at Oona,
who sat across from her. “Honestly, if you throw up on me, I’ll throw up too.” I looked at Haley.
“Well then there’s no way I’m not throwing up.” At this point, the possibility of taking part in a
sickening domino effect was becoming all too real. I felt my face getting hot, but I stayed strong for
my backward-facing friends. Unfortunately, Lauren’s attempt to turn forward in the backward-
facing seat failed; as she clutched a very tiny plastic bag, she made gagging sounds I’d rather not
hear again in my lifetime. I just remember thinking how tiny that very tiny plastic bag was, and I
hoped she had good aim. I needed to focus on Oona, however, who was at my immediate right. I
held the back rubbing, pep-talking responsibilities for Oona, but I obviously wasn’t cut out for the
job; she had no color left in her face, and she’s half Indian. It was bad. Luckily, we reached
Taksim just in time to save the van from disaster, though it took a while for Oona to regain her color,
and Lauren managed to christen our new flat with a decent vomit session.

7. Don’t go to clubs in foreign countries without doing your research first. Blindly heading into

the club scene may be acceptable in, say, Barcelona, but we’re not in Barcelona anymore. Granted,
we made only one attempt to go out to the clubs in Istanbul. That night, we walked down a popular
street in the Taksim district to look for places to hang out and went to about four clubs that were
located above ground-level shops. Everyone was very nice and gave us free “drinks” to get us to
stay (I think the drinks were free because I’m nearly positive they were fruit juice), but in almost all
the clubs we were the only ones there. After some awkward dancing, we decided seven is not a
party. Upside: Several of the clubs had snacks like popcorn on the tables, so we stayed either until
the popcorn was gone or until the bartenders realized we were using the club solely to catch up on
our American binge-eating.

8. Istanbul is full of stray cats, or (as we like to call them) “city tigers.” Employees of stores,

museums, restaurants, and other local businesses didn’t seem to mind the strays, however, as they
would leave food out for city tigers and their little cubs. There were even several city tigers in
restaurants, which I could've done without. I’m not a “cat person” so this wasn’t my favorite aspect
of Istanbul, but I think I faired pretty well compared to some people. I mean, I won’t name any
names (Oona), but one of my friends is irrationally afraid of cats (Oona), so her dramatic reactions to
the prowling city tigers always boosted my mood. In fact, seeing the fear in her eyes made me grow
quite fond of those city tigers—no matter how straggly and sneaky they were.

Two tigers playing at a store

My favorite city tiger: a little cross-eyed fellow posing in the Hagia Sophia

Andrew petting one of the many strays outside the Archaeological Museums

This little guy made it into my shot of a local art exhibit

A couple napping on some scarves outside a shop in Sultanahmet

A German tourist playing with a city cub at her table during dinner. Another man set up a little dish with mezze for a tiger on the seat next to him. Oona was disgusted, and even let out a few screeches when a large black city tiger made its way under our table. The waiters had a kick out of it and so did we.

A little family that lived on the roof above a convenience store near our Taksim flat.

Playing with the little guys

Naptime

Emma trying to impersonate the fat cat outside a shop on the Asian side. Unfortunately, the cat doesn't look all that fat from this angle.

Car with a tiger and his muddy little footprints

Three tigers hanging outside the Topkapi Palace

And we can't forget the dogs! A group of rather sad looking pooches we encountered on our trip up to Yoros Castle.

9. Turkey is known for a specific symbol: the eagle eye. The symbol is everywhere; it adorns

bracelets, necklaces, key chains, and other trinkets as charms, or nazars. The charm is supposed to
ward off evil, and legend says it will break immediately after it does its job. The eagle eye
is thought to ward off evil because the eagle is representative of bravery and strength, the two most
potent enemies of Iblīs (the Devil in Islam). After the trip, my friend told me the actual name of the
charm is the evil eye, which I admit makes more sense than the "eagle" eye. Since I'm never wrong,
it turned my life upside-down. I just made up the whole eagle eye explanation because I truly
thought the charm was called the eagle eye and that is the exact explanation I used to convince
myself that the symbol made sense. You believed me for a second, didn't you? Even three months
later, I can’t look at my necklace without thinking of eagles. Because eagles are brave and strong
and capable of warding off evil. True story.

A typical evil eye charm

10. There are more Starbucks on one street in Istanbul than there are within a ten-mile radius

of my house. In other words, there are four Starbucks on one street. (Let me explain: I may live in
Connecticut, but I don’t live in the classy 203; 860 prides itself in Dunkin, and Dunkin only.)
Anyway, by late October—with nothing but espresso as my caffeine fix—I was hurting for a tall
dirty chai. As much as I enjoyed my three chais during our half-week stay in the Starbucks-
studded Taksim district, I enjoyed even more the hysterical result of a slight language barrier:

Our Starbucks pseudonyms: Clear, Carolyn, Ema, and Lorei (aka Claire, Caroline, Emma, and Lauren)

11. Bad cover bands exist in Istanbul, too. We discovered a little vegetarian restaurant in the city
that had good enough food to visit twice, but a soundtrack that made me mentally pledge that I
would do anything to make it stop—even subject myself to the sight of Princess and her little, sheer
number again. (I swear I would’ve come out a winner in that one.) I laughed off the first few
covers, but when I heard a rendition of the Beatles, it got real. The place played some of the worst
covers of the band that I’ve ever heard; they must’ve butchered at least three of their hit songs in
one night. I was confused when some restaurants in Rome played awkwardly sensual music or
American Top 40 circa 1995, but I’d take that over vegetarian cover band music any day.

12. Muslims are serious about reminding fellow Muslims to pray—five times a day. When we
stayed in Sultanahmet, we had a flat with a beautiful view of the Blue Mosque, the most famous
place of worship in the city. However, we had no idea that mosques have loud speakers so that all
followers can hear prayer. Thus, prayer rings throughout Sultanahmet five times a day, and these
times vary as they are based upon the position of the sun in the sky. The consensus among the
group was that our favorite prayer was at dawn, around 6 am, but after a few days even that prayer
sounded like background music. I actually grew accustomed to the sound of the prayer, and
though I didn’t understand a word of it, it made me feel more immersed in Turkish culture. I didn’t
feel that surrounded by religion even in the Vatican City, the center of the Christian world. This
aspect of Istanbul—combined with the bustle of its bazaars, eccentric Turkish music, striking
Middle Eastern influences, and unique position on both the European and Asian continents—made
this weird city one of the most interesting and eye-opening places I visited during my travels
abroad. I’ll never forget it.