The last country in Europe, the first in Asia. An ever shifting flux between Occident and Orient. Hijab and halter necks, juicy meat skewers and filling aubergines. The madness of a bursting city and the calming flow of the Bosphorus haze.
We arrived into the belly of Turkey. Hugging the curves of the sprawling Istanbul, we made our way through to Sultanahmet via the cooled tram cars like dutiful sardines packed in a brightly washed can. Amidst the noise, smell, sound and hot pounding humidity that filled your senses with a sensuous assault, we relished at the changing pace of being an observer to a participant. Istanbul does that to you. You didn't just pass through unnoticed. People wanted to talk to you. People wanted to sell to you. People just wanted to know you.
Oh yes you'll read about the heady concoction of Turkish ice cream by the poles, melting sugary baklava to break anyone on a no-sugar diet, helpful friendly people heating up the soaring temperature of a city thriving in the summer holidays. You'll know a lot already about the enormity of the Aya Sofia, the Sultanahmet Camii (spelled with a squiggle), navigating the maze of the Basilica Cistern and encountering the fallen heads of the famed Medusa, the many hammam aging on in their hundreds of years, the pulsating young crowd of Taksim, gorgeous food and wine, grand bazaars filling every Ali Baba fantasies, temptations in the forms of trinkets, shisha pipes, exotic sweets (I had to swear off the chocolate - banana - coconut delights in case I hyperventilated!) and kilim to line just about any empty space on the sidewalks. You may nibble some charcoal-roasted corn and freshly sliced watermelon underneath the city's obelisk, get your shoes polished the old fashion way by one of the many enthusiastic cobblers with their little golden "tables" and urns of potions and creams... no shoes were ever undeserving of their skills and attention. How about walking down towards the harbour of Eminonu, Fatih? The minarets poked through the air like marbled asparagus, seagulls flapped overhead in an almost stagnant mid-air motion like a thousand kites in flight sending off the ferries as we stopped by for some grilled mackerels and mussels. The dark Bosphorus mingled with the current from the Golden Horn and I liked to think the Marmara was heralding with stormy clouds afar that threatened angrily but never beyond a quick drizzle the glorious sun will return to cast a pinkish canvas onto the picture perfect view from our roof-top balcony. Somehow the smell of salt mixing with the sweet aroma of apple mixed with tobacco from the neighbouring streets below blended with the daily schedules of cats and dogs, traders and locals who lived within that tight confine of space that we all shared brought you back to a time when the great renaissance of man celebrated the best of all knowledge, wealth and choices, yet plunged you forward into a modern constitution that formed a heady system of secularism. Strongly implemented too on that accord. It never ceased to amaze me what one man's vision could leave behind an extremely close to perfect legacy that all regardless of creed, race and religion could function in an almost efficient manner. Of course there is the dark spot of the Armenian genocide albeit the less than impartial depiction in the Military Museum, but as quickly as the afternoon heat dissipated when the sun sank low on the hazy strip, you walked away dazed by the Mehter.
A thousand and one Turkish Nazar eye later, there's more...
I walked, I sat back, I looked in awe, I was left shocked. In the beginning it was just too much and overwhelming. I was stunned to find myself finally here yet at the same time taken back by its beauty and audacity. It's like being taken out on a first date by an extremely interesting person and things got too fast before you find yourself reeling from that first kiss. How could something so intense be so intimate yet so distance? I hardly comprehend things around me yet I felt akin to the spiritual and physical parts of what Istanbul had to offer. The dervish dance, the small alley eateries, the low tables that lined out cobbled streets with lovely waiters flying past with copious amount of strong coffee and tea in delicate trays held by curvy prongs hung over your head. Joyful attitude of gratefulness and a zest for a good joke. Streets opened in an abundance of people spreading their cheer and wares, cooling off the sizzle of the day with their buckets of water from the local pools onto the checkered roads, missing barely by a deft touch the unceasing pass of pedestrians of all nationalities and colours.
And did I mention God bless most of the Turkish men for they were one of the loveliest flirts in the world, delighting you with their upfront gentlemanly manners and woe be on those who held down their guard, you may never know what hit you when they drew you lost into those swirling pools of Aegean green eyes. Even some of them had an almost touch of ethereal to their marble eyes, carved perfect believably by the great masters of time.
You get the freshest juices and mountains of pots and plates filled to the brim flowing during the month of Ramazan. You see some Turks fasting, others announcing that the 18-hour gruelling task wasn't something they would be ready this year. "Insyallah" was what they say. Nobody judges. Everyone just went on with life.
You get the freshest juices and mountains of pots and plates filled to the brim flowing during the month of Ramazan. You see some Turks fasting, others announcing that the 18-hour gruelling task wasn't something they would be ready this year. "Insyallah" was what they say. Nobody judges. Everyone just went on with life.
It felt like you just had to get out to get some air. It's like everything and nothing I had seen to date. Everything was in such huge juxtaposition but they roll on and fall into place as they had been over the rise and fall of many empires. If the Byzantium, Ottoman and Republic versions had anything to do with it (and I'm sure they do) then I bet my crisp Turkish Lira note that something is working here and it probably will go on for a while...
From bargaining for a summer dress and getting changed under some wooden tables outside the tidal wave of human traffic easing out towards the Spice Market (the proprietor assured me that it's nothing a few mannequins can't blocked) and being scrubbed clean like a new set of plates in the steamy old baths, it's entirely necessary to get into the groove of things quickly because to be frank, there was just too much in Istanbul alone to play catch-up.
We dived into the deep. Next, it will be Canakkale for that piece of the Great War we had been tracking down...
We dived into the deep. Next, it will be Canakkale for that piece of the Great War we had been tracking down...
