Istanbul, Turkey

Istanbul, ancient Constantinople, its location on the waterways connecting Europe and Asia made it a target for conquests of every Empire. This crossroads blends cultures, religions, foods and languages into a unique flavor as deep and rich as their coffee. Turkey is a nation of Turks. After saying, "Shukran," (Arabic for thank you), we were quickly corrected. They do NOT speak Arabic. They speak Turkish. "Thank you" in Turkish sounds something like a tea-sugar-a dream, but our awkward tongues settled for "Sow," meaning "thanks." It's a beautiful Mediterranean nation, not unlike Italy or Greece and our family experienced warmth and kindness at every turn during our stay.

We stayed in a bed and breakfast in the heart of Istanbul's old city, Sultanahmet, where each morning we gladly climbed to the rooftop for breakfast overlooking the Bosphorous. Savory olives, feta cheese and tomatoes graced the daily buffet, along with fresh yogurt, breads and jams. We looked forward to fresh Turkish bread and meze for dinner each night. It's like an antipasta plate with stuffed grape leaves, garlic spreads, hummus, eggplant, ratatouille, mushrooms and more. One night we tried to eat like the Turks, ordering meze starters and a main course, but we were too stuffed. So, the rest of the time, we just confused the wait staff by ordering only meze.

Turkish people are charming and there is a constant patois from business people on the sidewalks, particularly in the labyrinthian Grand Bazarre:

Hey, can I help you spend you money?
How many for dinner? (Even when you have no intention of dining in their restaurant)
Are you looking for my shop?
You look like rug buyers!

After four days in the city, as silly as a pack of middle schoolers, we decided to alter our route to the hotel to avoid a few folks: the rug salesmen we continually refused, the man who wanted Skylar to have apple tea in his shop and the restaurant owner who was moving to SanFrancisco. If we lived in Istanbul, we would soon be unable to leave the house for fear of offending someone :-)

The soaring architecture of Aya Sofia, the Blue Mosque and the Topkapi Palace gives Istanbul a stunning, minaret-studded skyline. However, we were a bit disappointed visiting the Church of Divine Wisdom (Aya Sofia); the famed "floating" dome was held up by a mile-high scaffolding, wrecking the illusion. It was like seeing Notre Dame while the stain glass windows were being cleaned. Shoulders covered in our borrowed wraps, we sat on the carpets of the Blue Mosque and observed the goings on. The vibrant blue tiles wear a wide array of patterns. It would be a bold homeowner to decorate a kitchen with this scheme. As for Topkapi, we enjoyed walking through this palace museum, picturing where brutish rulers exhibited their enemies' heads on tall standards. The monuments felt slightly familiar as Jeff and I had both recently finished The Historian, a fun work of fiction spanning centuries and roaming from France to Istanbul, while searching for vampires.

Istanbul continues on the other side of the Marmara Sea. To get a panoramic view of the city, we took a local ferry to Karacoy and back again. Of course, we stopped at the original turkish delight candy shop and stocked up so we could sample these chewy sweets on the boat ride. Aside from Edmond in The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, we'd not really heard of it, but it's mighty tasty. We particularly recommend the lemon and pistachio flavors.

Beneath Istanbul, we walked along the raised boardwalks of a roman cistern, finding carved Medusa heads awkwardly placed at the bottom of two columns, one upside down and one sideways. Why did they bother to decorate a room that would be filled with water? Were there slacker builders who finished the columns and then said, "Oh snap, we put her head upside down!@#! Leave it. No one will ever notice."

Whirling dervishes or "semazen" are Sufi Muslims who follow the teachings of Rumi: love and tolerance, a refreshingly simple creed. We watched them whirl for an audience of tourists at the train station on Wednesday night. How can these guys walk a straight line after spinning for 30 minutes? It's a graceful and yet dizzying way to pray.

Mr. Mustache squeezes the best orange juice in Istanbul. His righteous facial hair, kind eyes and tasty juice earned him loyal customers in our family. When we stopped at his hole-in-the-wall shop, he had changed to a gray fez and was praying on the floor. Instead of leaving us to stand on the sidewalk, he invited us to sit on a couch in his tiny shop while he pressed the oranges.

Each night, we waited to sleep until the al-mu’azin's final prayer call at 10:30. It seems a bit late to keep a whole city awake, as the melodies to Allah broadcast from multiple minarets. No one climbs the towers any longer to chant across the city; they employ loud speakers and amplification systems now.

Traveler's Note: Beware the travel agents of Istanbul. They are not all travel agents. If they don't have Grade A certificates on the wall and computers on their desks, they will probably be ripping you off. We compared prices among travel agents for bus and ferry tickets and found that one such "travel agency" attempted to charge us $300 US over the actual cost of tickets. Needless to say, he didn't get our business. Also note that the DHL shipping company bargains the cost of packages. There are no fixed prices in this country.
To enjoy more photos of Istanbul, click here.