Lessons in Istanbul

Morning of my second day here. Sue had warned me to close the windows or risk being awakened by the 6:00 am prayer call, but I was up already anyway and the room was feeling a little stuffy, so I opened my window a crack. The calls wafted in, and perhaps if I lived here a long time it would get to me, but for now I welcome the exotic sound track that reminds me of where I am. Then something funny happened—the neighbor's rooster got in on the action, and he crowed for at least forty minutes.

After a shower and a breakfast of granola, yogurt, and toast with rose jam, I accompanied Sue to a school where she teaches English to Iraqi refugee women. She asked if I would show them photos from Australia as part of their listening comprehension coursework. I showed them photos of parrots, the beach, koalas, the Ataturk memorial, and Sydney, explaining briefly what we did at each place, or what was interesting about the picture. Then, to test their listening comprehension, Sue asked them questions about what I had told them. 

The women were all in their 20s, smart, and their English was good. Two of them were preparing to emigrate to the U.S. and two hoped to go to Sydney. One of them has a visa interview at the Australian embassy scheduled for next week.

They asked me if I had met other Iraqis. I had not, and since my country had invaded theirs, this seemed wrong, as if we should at least have known the people whose lives we were going to disrupt. If they were upset with any of the Americans who worked at their school, they didn't show it. But they were leaving their country as a result of the war we waged on it. For all his faults, by maintaining a secular state Saddam Hussein protected the Christian minority from persecution from the Muslim majority. Once we got rid of him, that protection evaporated. Life within Iraq was no longer tolerable.

As we walked away from the school, Sue and I talked about it. They were so kind and positive towards us, weren't they angry at what our government had done? Or were they able to separate us and our actions from those of our policymakers? If so, they demonstrated a lot of maturity for their age. The encounter stayed with me throughout the day as Sue and I “played tourist.” I thought many times about the consequences of war that we tend to overlook. We focus on those killed and wounded, or those whose homes are bombed. We don't often think about these victims of unintended consequences.

We ended up in the Beyoglu District on the main shopping street downtown, given over to pedestrians, the occasional tram, and a few cars that inched their way through the throngs. Big name stores like Gap and Levis and many small shops selling specialized merchandise like leather goods or candies lined the street; vendors sold roasted chestnuts and ice cream bars from carts.

Stacks of Turkish Delight, a sweet, gummy treat in a variety of flavors like rose, pistachio, or orange, made for a pretty photograph. We entered a candy store and ended up buying a piece of kadayif, a roll of shredded wheat filled with pistachios and soaked with sugar syrup.

Several flavors of Turkish Delight

An assortment of baklava and similar desserts made from phyllo or shredded wheat plus nuts and honey; accompanied by dried fruits

Sue led me down tiny side streets, little wider than sidewalks, where vendors sold fish, spices, and household goods. 

Two colors of fresh figs

One of Istanbul's well-fed street cats waits hopefully at a butcher shop

Strings of dried peppers and herbs at a sidewalk stall

Dried eggplants and loofahs

On some even smaller offshoots from these streets, minuscule store front kitchens bustled with activity. Tables set for outdoor dining, and open to the sky above, crowded the pavement, awaiting lunch customers.

A Turkish friend in Minnesota insisted that when I get to Istanbul I had to try kokorec, made from sheep intestine wrapped around a bunch of other stuff and cooked on a rotisserie. Sue had asked Umit to recommend a good restaurant, and the place was here. I had eaten intestine before and wasn't a big fan, so I asked that we schedule the meal soon, before I lost my nerve. 

Kokorec on a roll and skewers of fried mussels. Most food in Turkey is richly flavored but not spicy hot—those mean little green peppers were an exception.

My kokorec!

After the first bite—YUM!! I was a happy gal.

We sat down and ordered the kokorec and fried mussels, another local specialty. Unlike the Chinese version of intestine that I had tried earlier, this were served spiced and shaved into small pieces that weren't recognizable as a body part. It was actually delicious, and I would have happily eaten a larger portion. The mussels were melt-in-your-mouth tender and succulent. Only good manners kept me from ordering more.

After lunch we walked toward the Galata Tower. Six TL buys a ticket to the top, where one can look down on the neighborhoods of Golden Horn and beyond. On the way we stopped at the Para Palace Hotel, where Agatha Christie wrote Murder on the Orient Express. The interior is beautiful, with all kinds of art nouveau touches.

Antique elevator in the Para Palace Hotel. Lovely to look at; I don't think it runs.

A minaret next to the road en route to the Galata Tower

Looking toward the old city from the tower

View of rooftops below the Galata Tower. If you zoom in you can see a cat sprawled out on the patio table in the center of the photo.

School had just let out as we walked down toward the water from the Galata Tower. Wow, it was noisy!

The street to the water was lined with building and plumbing supply stores. I liked these faucets. Unlikely you would see anything like them in Minneapolis.

We walked across the Galata bridge to get to the Old City to see the Spice Market. I was impressed to see so many people fishing from a bridge in the middle of the city. In Minnesota, we go "up to the lake" to go fishing.

The Spice Market was a treat for the senses: colorful displays of spices, fruits, and kitchen goods; heady smells of cardamom, cinnamon, and turmeric; and the merry din of shopkeepers and customers visiting, arguing, bargaining, and buying.

Beautiful mounds of spices in the background; teas in the foreground

Honeycomb for sale at a stall in the Spice Market.

Dried fruit and Turkish Delight

After walking miles and taking in the sights and smells of the Spice Bazaar, Sue directed me to a little cafe where we sat and enjoyed tea and kunefe, a dessert made from shredded wheat, mild white cheese, and sugar syrup, covered with ground pistachios. Sue has frequented this shop many times and the owner didn't mind me taking a picture of him preparing the goodies.

I had had kunefe once in the states and didn't care for it because it was too cheesy, but this version was mild, not overly sweet, and the pistachios were fresh and flavorful. Now I'm a fan.

Olives!!

Just outside the Spice Market are several stalls that sell cheeses of all types. I don't know what they all are, so you'll just have to look.

The guys who work at some of the cheese stalls were pulling and braiding a very fresh, white cheese into twisted sticks that looked like Twizzlers ;-)

Very near the Spice Market was the New Mosque. Lots of locals and foreign travelers. We saw vendors selling Turkish flags at most of the popular tourist sites. Sue says that the Turks are quite nationalistic, and if the display of flags is any indication, she's right. We saw them everywhere.

People (mostly men) remove their shoes and wash their feet at the fountain in the center of this courtyard  before going into the mosque. Before entering the mosque, everyone had to remove their shoes, and all women had to cover their heads. Attendants at the front door had scarves to loan to women who weren't prepared.

On the outside they look like big, squat structures, but inside, mosques are light and airy.