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< Back to “Sarah’s Turkish Travels” Introduction Sarah’s Turkish Travels Day 2By Sarah Yeomans, Travel Study Director and Managing Web Editor
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Istanbul Click to view a slide show of larger images and captions. There are two things I want to be honest about up front: 1.) I am not a morning person, and 2.) I have no sense of direction. These statements are not exaggerations. If anything, they’re understatements. I just want to be honest about this right away, because both characteristics, or lack thereof, came to influence the course of my first day in Istanbul.
The morning call to prayer ringing throughout the city woke me up this morning, which delighted me both because I find it beautiful and also because I know that the first call to prayer is early—very early. I believed that jet-lag had sufficiently tricked my biorhythms into getting up at sunrise so that I would have a full day to explore Istanbul. I bounded up, surprisingly energetic considering I had not yet had my requisite 2.5 cups of coffee, and went to open the curtains. My window faces the delightful square that surrounds the Galata tower, and I noticed several things at once: the sun was suspiciously bright for sunrise—not to mention high—and there were an awful lot of people out and about for such an early hour. A glance at the clock confirmed my suspicion that it was not in fact sunrise, not even close. It was, in fact, almost 11:00am, which meant that I had not only missed valuable exploring time and slept through the earlier call to prayer, but I had missed the hotel’s breakfast as well. Darn!
I felt sheepish as I snuck past the charming front desk clerk, as if he knew about my morning handicap and was tsk-tsking behind his friendly smile. I slunk out the door walked over to the tiny café behind the tower. When I travel to foreign countries, I always try to look for the hole-in-the-wall places that don’t have menus printed in five languages (a dead giveaway of a tourist trap). I succeeded—this café was as authentic as they come, right down to the “no English spoken.” I however, was armed with the tiny Turkish dictionary at the back of my guidebook, from which I grasped the pronunciation of “breakfast” in Turkish, which is kahvalti (pronounced kah-val-tuh). Spoken with a questioning lilt at the end and a smile, I figured I could get my point across. The young man who greeted me repeated the word and then asked me something else. Ooops—I had just used the full extent of my Turkish vocabulary. There was no Star Trek-style translator in my guide book so I could only grin and nod, though unsure of what I was actually agreeing to.
He showed me to a seat at a small wooden table near the window. The only other customer was a woman a bit older than me in garb that bespoke both her faith and her eastern Turkish origins. She wore the colorful clothing and headscarf typical of the eastern region of Anatolia, which is a common enough sight in Turkey’s most western of cities. She also, unsurprisingly, spoke Turkish. I was jealous.
Eventually my breakfast arrived. The young man returned with a small cup of that famous Turkish coffee and a plate with some cheese, tomatoes, cucumbers, olives and a hard-boiled egg. He held the plate up for my approval and made an inquiring, utterly incomprehensible (to me) statement. When I nodded and reached to take the plate, he whisked it away and hurried back to the kitchen. I was confused. Was I on candid camera? Was he just teasing me? Was I ever going to get breakfast? The Turkish woman nodded reassuringly, clearly sympathizing with my plight—she understood low blood sugar. I looked at the coffee in my hand. Oh well, at least its good strong espresso, the taste for which I had developed in Italy.
Now, I like wine, but I’m not particular about it. Coffee is a different story. I am a coffee snob of the worst kind. So it was with the confidence of a habitual espresso drinker that I began to sip. Everything was going just fine until the fourth sip, when I began to chew. The grounds were left in the coffee, which I later found out is the traditional way of preparing the beverage that is otherwise delicious. Every Turk knows that you are not supposed to actually drink the grounds. Lesson learned.
A few minutes later, the smiling waiter returned with the plates, which featured the same egg in a fried form. He hadn’t been teasing me, he had been cooking the egg. What I had assumed was a hard-boiled egg had actually been a raw one. He not only provided me with breakfast, he saved me from a messy surprise. I am going to have to stop being so cynical.
Fed and caffeinated, I was ready to head across the river to the older portion of the city, where the ethereal spires of the Hagia Sophia rose from the majestic skyline and urged me to get moving, since I had slept so late. Tomorrow evening I will meet the group that I am traveling through Turkey with, and I knew that we are going to the famous building the day after tomorrow, so today I was planning on checking out the underground portion of the city. I mean that literally—allow me to explain.
During my time in Rome, I became a certified speleologist for the city, meaning that I was qualified to descend into the underground archaeological sights that form the unseen foundation of the modern urban landscape. Almost every modern city built on top of an older one has a similar underground life—even some U.S. cities like New York and Seattle. Istanbul is rich with such sites, though many are not accessible to the public. Some are, however, and my obsession with underground archaeology had led me to put the Basilica Cistern at the top of my list of places to visit today. More on that later—first I had to get there.
I like to walk in cities, and finding my way helps me feel as if I am a more competent navigator than I actually am. A friend and colleague of mine that I worked with in Rome was in Istanbul for the month, and we planned on having dinner together later in the evening. Katie is a fellow speleologist for the city of Rome (we had a rather interesting journey through an ancient sewer together, but that’s another story. . .). She was comfortable navigating Istanbul and gave me simple directions to the Basilica Cistern located next to the Hagia Sophia on the other side of the bridge. “It’s easy,” she said, “just cross the bridge, go through the Spice Bazaar, turn left at the end of the market and take the main street straight to the Hagia Sophia.” No problem.
Remember my earlier disclosure about not having a sense of direction? I’m sure you can see where this is going. . .
The bridge was easy—it’s also wonderful. It’s a two-tiered structure that pedestrians, cars, and fisherman all share in genial confusion. The upper tier is for cars and features wide sidewalks on either side, which are unofficially the domain of the hundreds of fisherman that line the railings. I never did find out to what extent this was a hobby or a profession for the people that threw their lines in graceful arches to the water below. Judging from the seriousness with which they went about their tasks and the professional gear that they were using, I would guess it was the latter.
The lower tier was the domain of the numerous restaurants and cafes that run along both sides of the structure, and of the pedestrians that walked the gauntlet of smiling owners and staff trying to entice them into their establishment.
Once over the bridge I walked through the bustling square at the end and followed the crowd into what is known as the great Spice Bazaar, a teeming 17th-century indoor market that is also called the “Egyptian” Bazaar as it was built with the proceeds on taxes of Egyptian imports. It was constructed as part of the complex that surrounds the New Mosque, a massive 17th-century mosque that dominates the shoreline. The entire complex bumps up against the Grand Bazaar, the 15th-century covered market complex built by the Ottoman sultan Mehmet II to accommodate the dizzying number of shops selling goods from all over the world—then and now. Istanbul was the end of the line for the Silk Road, and the sultan built a complex befitting its status as the focal point for worldwide trade. Its younger and smaller 17th-century cousin is modest in size in comparison, but to me the Spice Bazaar was a sensory overload.
Vibrantly colored spices and herbs of every conceivable color and scent spilled out of the stalls in a visual riot. Small shops selling sweets, cheeses and bread were sporadically interspersed with their flamboyant neighbors, and the whole effect was the olfactory equivalent of a wild party. So dazed was I as I walked along that I came out of my spice-induced trance to discover that I had somehow wandered from the smaller Spice Bazaar right into the Grand Bazaar. I was completely lost inside a complex larger than most medieval Italian towns, and without the sight of landmarks on the skyline, I had no way to get my bearings. For most people this would be a simple matter of heading east, or west, or in the general direction of where they wanted to go—the Bazaar has numerous exits on all sides. For me, however, this was a problem. I could wander in circles for hours.
 Click to view a slide show of larger images and captions. Looking for an exit, I couldn’t help but be overwhelmed by the sheer beauty and vibrancy of the Bazaar. I could feel history here. How many millions of people from all over the world and across the centuries had walked through the same soaring galleries that I was? Who were they? What part of the world did they come from? What were their lives like? Could they ever have imagined a future like the one that I live in? I shook my head to clear it, and focused on a group of men drinking coffee and playing backgammon (a pastime which could very well be considered a national sport, given its popularity). Hand gestures, inquiring noises and a few stuttered words from my dictionary to the helpful Turks whose games I had interrupted got me the information I needed to head in the general direction of an exit.
 Click to view a slide show of larger images and captions.  Click to view a slide show of larger images and captions. Upon emerging from the Grand Bazaar, I felt like I had just been spit out of a sensory whirlpool. As I stood blinking in the bright sunlight, I realized that I had no idea where I was, much less how to get where I wanted to go. The towering buildings all around me blocked my view of the skyline, so I couldn’t see the towering minarets of the Hagia Sophia that would have oriented me. I was officially lost.
In the distance, I spied a group of sleek black cars with very dark windows that always seem to indicate the presence of a government official. Circling the flock of haphazardly parked cars was a pack of journalists, connected to their trailing cameramen by the leash of their microphone cord. A-ha! Here was my chance to become un-lost. European journalists often speak excellent English, so I tapped one on the shoulder and held up my map with a sheepish grin. She turned around, and I was embarrassed to see that I had interrupted the elegant young woman in the middle of a phone conversation, which doubtless concerned more important things than a lost tourist. Nevertheless, she snapped her phone shut and gave me directions in fluent English, and slipped seamlessly back into her phone conversation. I am having a hard time imagining an American journalist doing the same thing. People here are nice.
An hour later, I found myself at the ticket window of my original destination: the Basilica Cistern. Across the square loomed the awesome Hagia Sophia and the entrance to the Topkapı Palace, the home of the sultans until the mid-10th century. I was itching to get inside these monuments as well, but I knew that they would be covered later, after I met my group and our guide. I was going to start exploring Istanbul’s history literally from the bottom up.
The Basilica Cistern is a masterpiece of Byzantine engineering. Built by Emperor Justinian in 532 A.D. to supply water to the city and the palace, a portion of the massive underground water storage facility is accessible to visitors today.
Now, I want you to imagine something: a modern, underground water storage tank, the size of several football fields. It’s made of reinforced concrete. What does it look like? Industrial? Stark? Are there massive pylons holding up the ceiling? Reinforced steel girders crisscrossing the walls? I actually have no idea what one today would look like, but I’m willing to bet that whatever it is, it’s not beautiful, ethereal and downright enchanting.
And yet, these are the words that describe what Justinian built.
 Click to view a slide show of larger images and captions. Accompanied by the otherworldly sound of classical music echoing off the walls and dripping water, I found the dimly lit and quiet complex to be a surreal and beautiful reprieve from the bustling city above. While Istanbul above ground has grown and changed and taken its place firmly in the 21st century, down here in the Basilica Cistern, I was back in the 6th century, when even water cisterns that were never meant to be seen were adorned with fluted capitals on top of graceful columns. The vaulted ceiling was held aloft by 336 columns, each one measuring over 25 feet high, while below fish swam gracefully and lazily in the clear water and visitors walked quietly on the wooden walkways in between.
I was loathe to leave, but they were closing. Besides, it was chilly down there.
Happily, getting back was not nearly as difficult as getting there, and I am proud to say that I didn’t get lost. I met Katie at the end of the bridge and after some of the hot, sweet tea that Turks seem to drink by the gallon, she led me through winding medieval streets until we came to the R üstem Pasa Mosque, famous for the rare İznik tiles that decorate its walls. The tiles are the product of a vanished art: the technique that was used to create them has been lost. Today, a single genuine İznik tile in good condition can sell for over $1,500.
 Click to view a slide show of larger images and captions. A note on visiting a mosque:
Visitors are meant to remove their shoes. Many mosques will provide slippers, but otherwise socks are acceptable. Women should cover their hair in deference to tradition. Some mosques provide scarves, but it’s easy to carry one in your pocket or purse. These are holy places, and it is common to find people at prayer, so visitors should maintain silence and behave with respect and decorum. This means turning off your cell phone and your camera’s flash, and resisting all urges to pry one of those gorgeous tiles off the wall. I found the latter to be the hardest.
Later that night at dinner, Katie introduced me to the concept of the meze, which I had actually experienced the night before without realizing it. Mezes are like appetizers—small plates of meat, vegetables, fish, tangy yogurt flavored with mint, garlic and lemon, white beans with tomatoes swimming in fresh olive oil and lemon juice, grape leaves stuffed with rice and meat, peppers stuffed with, well, you get the idea. One can and should make a meal out of several of these delicious dishes. The fact that the cheerful waiters will bring them all out for you to inspect and choose from makes it easier to avoid the ones that most western stomachs might object to, like the chilled brains, Yes, I’m serious. But the fact that they are pretty recognizable makes it easy to choose the grape leaves instead.
 Click to view a slide show of larger images and captions. We feasted on the slow-roasted meats with their flavorful sauces accompanied with pide, the flatbread that is a staple of the western Turkish diet (and possibly the eastern—I don’t know. . .yet) followed by thick slices of mild, creamy cheese. We washed it all down with raki, known as “lion’s milk.” Raki is the Turkish version of the French pastis or Greek ouzo, an anise-flavored alcohol that turns a milky white when mixed with water. Many people find it refreshing, particularly in hot weather. I found it a perfect end to a lovely meal. Despite my late start, I am tired. I am going to try really hard to wake up at a decent hour tomorrow. I have one more full day in Istanbul before I meet my group tomorrow evening. I’m excited to see what tomorrow will bring.
Turkey TourSarah- My wife and I had the awesome experience of traveling on our own in Turkey in 1986 and we've never been the same. We promised ourselves that one day we would return. We fell in love with the Turkish people and their heritage. May your group have a great trip -they'll be in good company. • • • • • • • MalcomFrom this report, one would deduce that Turkey is the richest country in the world....no sign of poverty anywhere. Thanks for adding a few words and pix of Biblical sites. • • • • • • • TurkiyeSarah, it was such a privilege meeting you on this unique trip. Zane and I had a wonderful time as it was a very educational trip Your writing of this trip came in very helpful as I will be bringing a program on our trip to our Senior Townsy Day this month. Thank you for putting me on this list. Love, Betty • • • • • • • blog on on Turkey travelI too would like to see some of the mundane itinerary details--addresses, websites, etc. Great writing, which I will use for planning my upcoming trip. • • • • • • • A New PerspectiveThank you Sarah, you have given me a new perspective on Turkey in general, but Istanbul in particular. It is really your closing comments on her transition from what was really a medieval world to a modern world in a painfully short time. I had never really considered the meaning that might have before. There armis many places in the world I don’t suppose, where you can go enjoy the modern conveniences while strolling through a medieval world and do it all is safety. There are of course the classics like Rome, Venice,and their well pedigreed ilk, but it seems to me the medieval now resides there in the architecture and emotional history alone. In Turkey I imagine it’s more palpable in the atmosphere. Thanks for the reports! • • • • • • • Turkish TravelsHaving read and re-read CS Lewis' Narnia Series, "The Lion Witch and The Wardrobe" features Turkish Delight as the temptation that almost cost one of the heroes his very soul. What IS Turkish Delight? Is it that good? • • • • • • • Turkish DelightDelightful article. The author's ability to mix vivid imagery with her historical insights -- and to spice it up with a bit of wit and humor -- makes for informative and enjoyable reading. I look forward to future installments! • • • • • • • Sarah YeomanOur "Contessa" is on the move again. Looking forward to the next installment. • • • • • • • Sarah's Turkish TravelsWonderfully written. Her excitment,energy,discovery,and honesty grabbed me and carried me into her experience. I felt like a best friend who could not go on the trip and she transended the bountries of time and space taking me with her. I look forward to "our" next adventure. • • • • • • • Reminisces of IstanbulI lived with my family in Kuwait for 12 years from 1970 to 1982. We had the opportunity to travel a great deal over those years and Istanbul was one of our favorite spots. One of our pleasures was to stand on the street and hail a taxi that was a "vintage" automobile of some sort, perhaps a 1940 Dodge or whatever. There were many auto parts shops to match the demand to keep these old cars running. The food, the people, and the sights were splendid. • • • • • • • Turkey visitI really loved reading Sarah's entry - all the more because my husband and I are leaving on Sat for a 3 week trip to Turkey and Greece. I will keep a close watch on Sarah's whereabouts -we may even catch up! • • • • • • • TurkeySarah - I loved Turkey more than I ever could have imagined. Have a wonderful time. I would go back in a heartbeat. Thank you for letting me travel along with you. Mary Anne • • • • • • • Sarah's Turkey trip.This is as close to a trip to Turkey that I'll ever make. I feel as if I'm right there in the middle of every descriptive word that Sarah uses to tell us her travel story. I look forward to every word she writes. Thank you Sarah. GiGi Orru • • • • • • • Turkey ExperienceWell written article. Felt like I was with the author. Was disappointed when I discovered there was no more to read! • • • • • • • Wonderful! I look forward to the journeyA delightful article. I have recently taken a casual interest in Turkey and istanbul in particular. I even ordered some Christmas gifts last year from some private shops I found on the web in and around istanbul. I can see how I will thoroughly enjoy this adventure and I don’t even have to leave home. Any chance of an itinerary, or list of possible sights you might be visiting? Not necessary, but nice to have. • • • • • • • |
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