Turkey v. Georgia: Paper Instead of Plastic

Georgia wraps every take-away khachapuri and the like into those maddening little blue or pink plastic bags that flutter and get stuck to tree branches like toxic flowers. I always cringe, too, when items are microwaved in those bags.

(In Ethiopia, the same bags are the detritus of daily chat habits in what I call "blue bag towns.")

Istanbul, a city of 13 million, uses paper sleeves for its finger food. (Even its plastic bags, if you get one at a market, is of a texture that leads me to believe they may be biodegradable.)

I admire this and predict Georgia will glom on to the same in the near future.

Istanbul. Paper sleeves.

Istanbul: The Cats

Istanbul cat, Turkey. July 2012.

Cats are everywhere in Istanbul.

They don't appear feral. Indeed, they curl up anywhere they please in shops and restaurants, including on strangers' laps in restaurants.

Some Istanbul cats below:  




Some other commentary on Istanbul cats:

Legal Nomads: A History of Cats in Istanbul

Boston.com: Cat Culture Thrives in Istanbul

Istanbul: The Monogamous Diner

Sure, I was a restaurant slut when I first landed in Istanbul.

Every meal out I tried a new place, looking for the ideal blend of good food at a budget price with no hassles. The Turkish waiters wooed me into their lounges, promising to be my friend, to give me the best Istanbul had to offer, to give me good service. All lies. And every time I succumbed, I was betrayed. As soon as I sat down, they abandoned me, looking for new conquests.

I tried the inexpensive and generally-good bufes and their doners, but sitting on a low stool next to parked cars just didn't do it for me.    

I had to stop this promiscuous behavior and settle down.

And I found just the place, and it's only 20 steps from my hotel. Not the disappointing bistro that's attached to my hotel. No, my new place is the Trabzon Restaurant - a lokanta - that's down the alley between my hotel and the Cotton Box store.

Trabzon Restaurant, Sirkeci, Istanbul. July 2012.

It's not the kind of place you'll rave about after you get home. But the food is very good, sometimes exceptional (eggplant). It's like what you'd get at home, if you had a Turkish home, and your mom was a good cook. And the price is very reasonable. The folks there don't hassle you at all. They're friendly in a genuine way. It's quiet, too.

It's where I go to eat now.

And, oh look, I'm not the first who fell for its steadfast charm.

Postscript: Two days after I made my commitment to this place, the owner brought out an immense guestbook for me to look at. The entries went back more than 20 years. There were drawings. Foreign currencies attached. Locks of hair, for God's sake! Business cards. Coolest guestbook I've ever seen.

So it looks like this place is kinda famous. I'm glad I lucked into it and had the good taste to recognize quality.  

A slideshow of some highlights, taken with the restaurant owner's permission:

    

Istanbul: Aya Sofya

As with some of the other sites, you can see the same thing I saw, without crowds, if you go here for the virtual tour of the Aya Sofya.

Of the Big Three - Blue Mosque, Topkapi Palace, Aya Sofya - the Aya Sofya is the most spectacular. And what a refreshing change that when one religion took the property over from the previous religion, it didn't cover up what was there before.

 
I like how Turkey places its museum shops in strategic, yet unobtrusive spots, at these sites.

Here are my videos from the first and second levels:

 

A tout, just wanting to "help" me, offered to buy my ticket for me (no, not pay for it - just go do what I could do easily on my own), to get me ahead of the line (there was no line), and assured me he wasn't a tour guide (but he, I'm sure, had good carpets to sell). This is just annoying as hell.

And a slide show:








 

Istanbul: The Big House and Garden Tour

Istanbul, Topkapi Palace.

I'm feeling insecure that I don't find Istanbul as amazing as everyone else seems to find it.

Is it because I'm disgruntled about something? Am I a contrarian? Maybe I just don't "get" Istanbul. Am I jaded with travel already?

I'm annoyed that I feel it necessary to look for something wrong with me to explain why I am not madly in love with this city. Why do I have to do that? Maybe Istanbul and I just aren't a good match and that's OK. Right? Right?

But maybe I am disgruntled. Maybe I'm disgruntled that I'm not Madonna, therefore I can't visit these sites after hours by myself. But for you, here is the next best thing - a virtual tour of Topkapi Palace.

But if you want to see my photos, here's a slide show:

So anyway, I have some friends and family who like to go on house and garden tours, which I find deadly. Deadly. I opt out of such shenanigans.

Guess what. Topkapi Palace is a gi-fuck-gantic house and garden tour.

As I walked through this place, I wondered if we, as humans, are hardwired to give our power to someone else. Whether that be a sultan, an emperor, caudillo, a politico, whatever. Like dogs, chickens, chimpanzees, elephants, cattle. Are we so different?   

Maybe it's because it's an election year and there's all this vitriol out there that is making me question why I'm dropping a fair amount of cash to walk through the former property of despots? What am I supposed to glean from this? As you see, I have no business going on a house and garden tour. I have issues.
   

Istanbul. Topkapi Palace mosaic

The most beautiful part of Topkapi Palace is a mosaic in the Harem. You have to pay extra to visit the Harem. In my view, the Harem is the best part of Topkapi, besides its name and this one mosaic.

If I were a fabric designer, I'd base an entire line on this mosaic.


Note: Despite my grumbling, I am achieving exactly what I wanted to achieve here - enjoying a quiet intermission between Georgia and a return to the U.S.

Istanbul: Quiet and Good

Istanbul

I stayed hermit-like in my room for most of the day. Working, napping, listening to podcasts. Repeat.

My room is small, but it has tall ceilings. The walls are the color of a cappuccino. The ceiling is white. Twin bed. One lightweight, colorful coverlet. A sink. A fan. A small desk and chair. A wardrobe.

Istanbul, Trabzon Restaurant

In the evening, I went to one of the handful of pretty-good places that are also affordable. It was the second time I visited this restaurant, called Trabzon Restaurant, a lokanta, which is within only a few steps of my hotel. It's like a little home-cooking place. Pleasant service; no hassle.

For lunch the other day here, I had chicken livers.

Tonight, I had eggplant and beef, a velvety dish, with a side of rice. Fresh bread. A cold soda. Nine lira (about $5 USD).

It wasn't something to rave about, but it was good. There were two different spices available on the table to jazz it up as I wished.  

Istanbul, Trabzon Restaurant

Istanbul: Back and Forth and the Basilica Cistern

Istanbul, Basilica Cistern, Upside-Down Medusa

Basilica Cistern. I'm a terrible tourist, maybe. There are Very Important Historical Sites here and I think perhaps I don't have the proper appreciation.

The Basilica Cistern, for instance.

Istanbul, Basilica Cistern

Maybe I want to be like Madonna - when she came to Istanbul recently, reportedly she went to the historic sites, alone (well, with her entourage), sans unwashed masses, after hours. That would be nice. You can do this by going on a virtual tour here.

Istanbul, Basilica Cistern, Upside-Down Medusa

But instead I mingled with clutches of other tourists intent on taking photos of each other in the almost-dark. Mood music emanated from somewhere back by the Medusas to enhance our experiences. There was a cafe at one corner. There was an area (for 5 euro) to get your photos taken in authentic-like Ottoman garb. Kind of like those sepia saloon photos you can get at Silver Dollar City and the like.

Istanbul, Basilica Cistern, Sideways Medusa

Obviously, I'm an elitist at heart. I want to go by myself, without the mood music, with it all so quiet, you can hear the fish open their gills. Yes, there are fish.


Back and forth. Alican had kindy offered to show me where and how to get a transportation card and we'd agreed to meet in front of his family business at 5:00 p.m.

I thought I'd planned my day for my usual getting-out-late routine to have lunch, then the Basilica Cistern, and then a short people-watching sojourn in the nearby park before meeting Alican.

First, I had yet another misfire of a lunch with only myself to blame, and second, I had miscalculated how long it would take to accomplish this and my Cistern visit. Consequently, I cooled my heels for over an hour in the park. But some good things came out of that: 

1. It was shady and cool. Pleasant. 
2. I discovered a fantastic ice cream bar - far superior to the so-called handmade whatever that I'd tried - it was chocolatey to the extreme. 
3. I came up with a good response to future touts who decide to sit next to me on a park bench while I'm minding my own business, asking me stupid-ass questions, with the penultimate one being, "are you married"? My new response: "I don't answer such questions." I'm thinking of reviving the word "impertinent."

Eventually, Alican and I met up and he escorted me to a kiosk where I was able to purchase a ticket good on the trams, buses, and funiculars.

Alican returned to work and I set out on my plan to take the Bagcilar-Kabatas (T1) tram from Point E to Point A and then Point Z and then Point C, closest to my base. Or something like that.

So here's a video of part of my ride. You can feel how close the tram is to the sidewalks and pedestrians:

First I went over the Galata Bridge to the last stop at Kabatas. I got out of the tram and walked down the stairs into an underground mall similar (but less gritty) than those in Tbilisi.

   
On my return trip, after re-passing the historic stuff, we headed out to the burbs. Lots of apartment blocks - like New Rustavi, really, except prettier.

 

And then, just as I was getting really hungry for dinner, we approached an outlet mall with signage for several familiar eateries. Surely, the fare had to be better, at a more reasonable cost, than the pseudo-Turkish stuff in Sultanahmet.

And so it was. There was a food court that one could drop in any suburban area in the world. Yes, the comfort of middle-class anonymity. No hustlers, no one wanting to know my name, no one pushing a menu toward me. Nope, just good ol' friendly customer service.  And all in quiet, four-tiered, air-conditioned splendor. 

The land of bland. I embraced it. As one of my TLG colleagues used to say, "Don't judge me."


So if you're in Istanbul during the summer and looking for an escape from the heat, the hustlers, the hype, take the T1 tram toward Bagcilar and get off at this station:

 for this outlet mall:

Istanbul: Whirling

Istanbul. Coffee and carpet.

I met "Alican" on a street corner. He sells new and old carpets (both retail and wholesale) in a family enterprise that also sells jewelry. The family business has been in Istanbul for 30 years. A Kurdish family, it has many members just in the Hippodrome neighborhood alone - when the entire family gets together, its 600+ strong.

Alican invited me to his place to show me his .... etchings ... er, carpet. We descended a staircase to a cool, light room filled with carpets. Alican had tea; I had coffee. His cousin joined us presently, and after the requisite foreplay, asked me what I was interested in buying while in Istanbul.









I've stumbled on a very good reply to queries about my purchase of carpet. And it's even truthful: "I don't have a home, thus I have no place to put carpet. No, not even a very small carpet. No space in the luggage."

Alican told me that every Monday night, one of the mosques opens up a so-called whirling dervish service to the public. He showed me on a map where it is. ... but later offered to accompany me, to which I happily agreed.

I met him at 9:00 p.m. in front of his family business and instead of walking, we drove there. Good thing, too, as it was quite a ways, at least by car.  It was very hot. When we arrived, there were a couple of tourists there, from Sweden, I think. Later, a few more arrived from various parts of the world. All told, perhaps 20-25 of us.

We waited while the Sufi completed their dinner - musicians and dancers - and we were then ushered into a vestibule to hand over our shoes and then into a very hot, small room. When one of the Sufi was unable to turn on the a/c (!) to his satisfaction, we were moved into the main mosque area. As visitors, we were in an area cordoned off by a wooden rail. Women visitors were on one side; men on the other.

The women mosque members were upstairs in the balcony behind a wooden lattice.

Singers and drummers were in an adjacent room with a glass wall. Men filled this room, seated on the carpet. More men sat outside this room, facing into it. All wore white prayer caps.

It was luxuriously cool in the air-conditioned mosque. Also, there were several large screens where one could see what was going on in the room with the singers and musicians. In that room was a large smart board upon which the music scrolled for the musicians.

First came drumming and chant-singing, for many minutes. It seemed there'd be about 10 minutes of one refrain, then movement into another, then another. Some of it was a rolling, fluid chant; other times staccatto; other times rather melodic. It was easy to get into a rocking body movement or to tap one's fingers to the beat.

The anticipation of waiting for the dancers to come out onto the mosque floor intensified. I could barely see a bit of a connecting room, in which I saw a segment of the occasional swirl of a dancer-in-waiting, or maybe a student dancer. 

 

About 30 minutes after the singing had begun, a line of seven men, all in black robes and tall, camel-hair hats walked into the room. They lined up in front of us women visitors, their backs to us, except for one man, who was clearly the leader. He stood apart from the remaining six men.

After a time, the six men began a walk past the leader, lowering their heads in front of him, whereupon he kissed their hats and they passed on. In a subsequent pass, all seven men participated in a walk-around, but this time one man would turn around to face an oncoming man, they would make eye contact, complete a slight head bow, then the turning man would turn around again to follow the walkers in front of him. Each man did this once, and then the seven men repeated the cycle two more times.

At a certain point, a ninth man joined the group.

The leader and one other man kept their black cloaks on, but the others removed theirs to reveal the white and black sema clothing, and began, one by one, to whirl.

At times, the leader and the other cloaked man walked through the dancers. Other times, they simply stood. The leader generally had his eyes closed.

All along, the singers and musicians are continuing their chant-songs.

The chant-songs raised at times to an intensity that had the singers bobbing their heads and upper torsos in chorus.

And then it was over.

I learned later from Alican that the leader was the mosque's imam and the second man in black was his apprentice. One of the dancers, a boy, was in pale yellow garb; he was a student of the dance.

Alican and I retrieved our shoes and then went to a restaurant close to his family business for a late dinner and drink. Alican ordered a sampling of a number of dishes. The shrimp in a spicy sauce was excellent.

It was a really pleasant evening thanks to Alican's generous hospitality.

Istanbul: The Grand Bazaar

I can't seem to drag my ass out of my room til midday, it's so comfy there, so I end up going to these sites in the hottest and most crowded part of the day. That's just the way it is right now.

Istanbul, Grand Bazaar

So. The Grand Bazaar. The locals sneer at it. "Oh, don't buy anything there. It's all Chinese or Indian now and too expensive." I pull out my camera to indicate all I'm interested in is taking photos of same. "All right, then, but don't buy anything there!"

Istanbul, Grand Bazaar

I kind of enjoyed it, although the immensity of the place is a bit overwhelming. It'd be easy to get lost inside. If I were a shopper, I would be drunk on the possibilities. Scarves, lights, gold, clothing, teas, carpets, all sorts of things.

Istanbul, Grand Bazaar

Istanbul, Grand Bazaar

Istanbul, Grand Bazaar

When I had my fill of the stimulation overload, I emerged through one of the exits and let my eyes rest on some quieter sights:

Istanbul

Istanbul

Istanbul

   

Istanbul: Cutting

Istanbul, circumcision clothing

Cutting. You know those little boys with the white outfits with capes and hats who I saw cavorting happily outside the Blue Mosque? I thought maybe they were traditional dancers of some sort? My new cultural interpreter, "Alican," informed me that these boys were dressed this way because it was the day for their circumcision. .... Ohhhhhh. ...... ouch.

Istanbul, circumcision clothing

I later saw a couple of boys in the white suits sans capes. I wondered if they'd already been circumcised - decapped, as it were. I saw no visible sign of pain, however. Maybe they'd had the benefit of an anesthetic? Or maybe I was just wrong.

Istanbul: An Historic Amusement Park

Blue Mosque, Istanbul.

Tourists and fish. In Sultanahmet, Istanbul's historic section, and where I'm based, it is like one gigantic, historic amusement park and shopping mall, where everyone works on commission.

We tourists are fish in a river, we are like salmon to bears. We wind ourselves through the narrow streets, occasionally stopping at an intersection to look up for a landmark or down a street to get our bearings, or to decide which tout-concentrated gauntlet to pass through.

Some of us are outliers, some are couples, some members of packs. The age of the tourists is surprisingly diverse, ranging from gap-year students to septuagenarians. We're American (in the continental sense of the word), European, African, Asian.

Behemoth package-tour buses somehow negotiate their way through the narrow streets. They look wonderfully cool inside. The seats look comfortable. Passengers sit high up. I bet they have nice WCs on board. The giant white buses make gaseous noises, but don't seem to produce any visible or smelly exhaust.     

Mediocrity. I didn't start the day well. I had a stupidly unsatisfactory breakfast - eggs/sausage and bread. The bread was almost stale. The eggs a broken and ugly mishmash in a skillet. For which I paid a price commensurate with being in Sultanahmet. I felt quite annoyed, as this was the third day of uninteresting food in a country known to have good food. The cafe where I had lunch beguiled me with cool water jets from fans. I ordered a Caesar salad that was pretty, along with a lemonade, also pretty. Taste-wise: Not memorable. Pricewise: Too much.

Later in the afternoon, during my siesta time, I researched Sultanahmet restaurants. Ah!!! I've found the problem!!!! It's famous for its culinary mediocrity. OK, there are some exceptions, but at least now I know what I'm dealing with and can lower my expectations accordingly.

Reconnaissance mission. I intended to scope out the Aya Sofya and Topkapi situation, releasing myself from actually visiting either of them today. I just wanted to find them. Oh my God. The line to get into Aya Sofya was as long as one to get onto a roller coaster.  And I really cannot bitch about this because I was warned by Mustafa (and other research) to go in the morning before the tour groups arrived. So I settled in the shade on a bench and just people-watched. A fellow tourist approached me with a boiled ear of corn and asked if I'd tried one yet, to which I replied no, and he broke his in half and gave me one. He's an Indonesian tourist. When he told me he was from Indonesia, my erudite response was, "Ah, Indonesia's really big." He said something about Bali, but I don't know if that's where he's from or if he just wanted to reassure me with what he presumed would be a familiar Indonesian location.

By the way, the boiled ear of corn tasted just like a boiled ear of corn. Without butter, salt, or pepper . (My mother refers to corn on the cob as a delivery system for melting butter.) Oh, and I bought a Turkish round pretzelish item, a simit, covered in sesame seeds, which you'd think would be very delicious, but it was not. Tasted a little stale. If you come to Istanbul, feel confident in skipping these two street foods. (I also recommend skipping the Navajo taco if you're ever out west.)

I did learn that Aya Sofya is closed on Mondays and Topkapi is closed on Tuesdays. Good intel.

Blue Mosque. Since I was in the neighborhood and was in no danger of getting into Aya Sofya this afternoon, I thought I'd go check out the Blue Mosque. Big place on the outside. A lot of people milling about. I walked up some steps and into a courtyard with arches. More people. Read a sign in various languages, particularly for women: 1) head covering; 2) long skirt; 3) no shoes - well, that last applies to everyone. I'd brought a scarf, but had trousers on. And so did a lot of others, so I assumed the actual practice of who got in was more flexible than the written policy. As I neared the entrance, a genial guard informed me that visitors wouldn't be admitted til 2:00, after prayers, and that we'd be let in through a special visitors' entrance outside the courtyard and on the side of the mosque. It was now just a little after 1:00, and I decided to make myself comfortable and wait for entrance, since I was here already.

(Funny. As I write this, I realize I wouldn't have waited any longer to get into the Aya Sofya. Maybe it seemed different for the Blue Mosque because I could sit in the shade instead of stand in the sun.)

I found an unoccupied stone niche alongside some steps within the courtyard. A robust breeze kept me cool. Perfect spot to relax and people-watch. I soon heard my favorite muezzin's call.

In the video, looking at the women with the light-colored trench coats, you'd think it was a chilly day. You'd be wrong. It was very hot. The women have street clothes underneath these coats. Although they are of a light cotton, I feel disturbed when I see these coats and, even more so when I see the full-on black abayat and niqab. Not because of an affiliated religion - I don't care about that, and besides, some conservative Christians and Jews have similar constraints for women (and sometimes for men, too) - but about a practice that singles out women to suffer in the heat, to cover themselves as if they were objectionable beings, while men accompanying them wear shorts, short-sleeved shirts, and sandals.

Blue Mosque, Istanbul.

I saw a couple of little boys dance around in intricate costume: All in white, embroidered front, cape, hat. Coming from Georgia, I thought they might be preparing for or coming from a traditional dance performance. Note: Foreshadowing here. Stay tuned. 

So I passed a mostly pleasant hour and then walked around to the side of the mosque to get into line for entrance. No one there, really, though eventually visitors started accumulating. Women in shorts, a child munching on an ear of corn, somewhat loud voices, even though men were praying just inside. I felt a twinge of self-righteous disdain, thinking, where is the respect, people? We are in a place of worship. 

Blue Mosque, Istanbul.

And then I walked into this immense space, carpeted, devoid of furniture, and filled already with people sitting on the floor, snacking, walking around taking photos and videos, chatting. Children running. A little office available for those with questions about Islam. And I laughed to myself, thinking: Lighten up.

To experience a beautiful and quiet virtual tour, sans crowds, go here. You don't have to download anything. Just click on the inset box on the right side of the tour page. 

What works best for me is: Click on that inset box. When it comes up to full view, take your hand away from the mouse or touchpad. Wait. Allow the camera to take you where it goes. Just enjoy. 


Where everybody knows your name ... and are always glad you came. When I left the Blue Mosque, I wandered through an adjacent bazaar, then down some chichi side streets toward my base. I met several people who wanted to be my new friend and who happened to have a shop that I was certainly going to find fascinating. Istanbul reminds me somewhat of Lalibela and Harar, though there is more toutly charm in Harar, and besides, you never know in Harar (or Georgia, for that matter) when a fight will break out for a little street drama.

Continued my way. Encountered another bridal party! Loved what I presume to be the mother-of-the-bride's dress. 

Istanbul, bridal party.

Dinner. I was ready for dinner and thought about a little place along a street behind my hotel. I'd done some research earlier on some specifically Turkish menu items to order and was pleased to see this place had Turkish meatballs. It was good - not great - but good, which surpasses what I've experienced thus far.

Istanbul, Turkish meatballs

On my walk from dinner, I saw this on a wall:

Istanbul

My final stop before returning to my room was a c-market, where this caught my attention:

Istanbul

Istanbul, Day 2: My New Home

Ah, my headache of the day before was gone when I awoke.

Made Nescafe in my room with the little plastic kettle Sandy bequeathed to me.

Eventually walked down and around to the adjacent cafe for breakfast. Frankly, a bit of a ho-hum affair, though I was surprised at the tiny container of .... spreadable chocolate! for one's bread. (Realized later it was probably Nutella.)

Finished off with a cup of tea. Nice that it wasn't presumed I wanted sugar in it.

Actually, what I really finished off with was a squeeze bottle dollop of lemon water for my hands (and face, if I wanted), offered to me by the waiter. What a refreshing practice, especially in such hot weather.

















New home. Went upstairs and the co-manager, Mustafa, helped me change rooms. I really like my new room. It's even got a sink in it.

Istanbul - view from room

And I have a view of the street in front of the hotel entrance. Also, the window doesn't face the sun directly. Indeed, the small room is cleanly monastic. Pleasing.


Now I'm set up in my new home for the next three weeks. Feels good.

Lazed about for much of the day.














Timeless. I feel bereft without a portable timekeeper. I don't have my TLG-provided cell phone anymore, my impotent phone from the U.S. refuses to tell me the time here (though it did in Georgia), and I lost my wristwatch in Dubai. I found a mall nearby that seems to specialize in watches and small clocks, finding one or two I liked from a vendor, but we were unable to come to an agreement on the price. He was asking 30 lira; I offered 20; he came to 25. And that's where we stopped. So, in USD, about $3 separates us. Neither of us was a jerk about it, so if I get really desperate, I can go back and pay his price; no face lost.

Meals. Oh. Yes. Guilty pleasure for lunch. Burger King. And a so-so caramel ice cream cone.

Watermelon for dinner, at an absurdly high price. I'm still in my mullet phase, clearly.

Istanbul dogs

Cats and dogs. There are a lot of cats in Istanbul. I didn't see any dogs until dusk, which seems to be when they came out. Maybe they're smart enough to stay in the shade when it's hot.

A slice of evening Sultanahmet life on a corner below. I thought the guy raising his arms was going to do something interesting, but [spoiler alert!] ...  no ... On the other hand, I really do like the muezzin's voice. A far cry (get it?) from the three-headed singer in Dubai.

 

Turkey is known for its sweets. Some porn below:

Istanbul sweets

Istanbul sweets

Istanbul sweets

Istanbul sweets

I didn't have any. Sugar's generally not my drug of choice. Some people rave about Turkish delight, a fascination that eludes me, as they taste pretty much like gummy bears to me. But then I rave about Georgia's chicken livers, so I'm not a reliable source of what constitutes good taste for most people.