Tag: Istanbul

there are official people walking the streets, ready to assist. On the back of the blue shirts it says, “Ask me!” This woman stopped to make sure we knew where we were going and let the boys pet the kitten she was carrying.

We were on our way to the Grand Bazaar. It’s the oldest covered market in the world. It dates back to the 1400s. We weren’t there to do any serious shopping, just to look around.

There were stalls with carpets, lanterns, clothing, jewelry, ceramics — some things were really nice (expensive) and others were the trinkety junk you see in every tourist city.

There were crowds of people and since every third stall seemed to have the same items the browsing became tiresome quickly. On another day we tried to “cut through” the Grand Bazaar on our walk home, but because of the way that it winds around we ended up exiting further away from home than when we started.

We did come away with one treasure: these wooden tops/yo-yos.

Caleb wanted one really badly, but he played it cool while Josh agreed on the appropriate number of Turkish Lira for three of them. They settled on 5TL, about $3. They paid for themselves many times over during the rest of our trip as the boys could pull them out of their pockets and entertain themselves if they got tired of sightseeing. How do they work? You’re supposed to wrap the string around the base of the top and then flick your wrist as you drop it — if you do it correctly the top will spin on the ground attached to the string — it looks like walking a dog on a leash. I never got the hang of it, but the boys were doing tricks and catching the spinning top in their hands, Globetrotter style, by the time we came back from Turkey.

A fun place to go in Istanbul is the Egyptian Spice Market. It got its name because for a long time that’s where they traded all the spices and things that were brought from Egypt. It was built in 1664 so it has been in business a long time.

Even though it was hot, we decided to walk so we could explore the neighborhood around the market. It was mostly downhill and we promised the boys we would take the train home if they agreed to walk there. They were still protesting about wanting to take the metro instead so we just said, “too bad, we’re walking.”

Lots of people, lots of old buildings and shops, many trinkets, and lots to see . . .

Walking around Istanbul without a plan feels is an adventure. There’s so much to see (like Egypt), but it’s clean (unlike Egypt). We could have explored the city on foot for another week without even beginning to be bored.

Inside the Spice Market looked just like this — if you imagine it going on and on and around the corner and on and on some more. We wandered around for over an hour and it just kept going.

We smelled the different teas, tasted some different spices, and had samples of Turkish Delight. I don’t like Turkish Delight. When reading The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe I thought Turkish Delight had to be some rich creamy chocolate or caramel candy — something that would go well with the steaming hot chocolate that the White Witch served to Edmund. It turns out that Turkish Delight is actually gummy fruit squares with nuts in them. I mean, it’s OK, but it’s hard to imagine that Edmund sold out his family for some nutty fruit leather . . .

At the entrance to the Spice Market there was a place selling soft serve cones. After our long, hot walk, everyone deserved a treat.

I’m making this picture extra-large so you can read the sign right in the center: Turkish Viagra (they are dates stuffed with nuts). If you click on the picture to look at it up close, it says “5 times in the night.” Gross.

At another spice place in central Turkey we were sampling different nuts and fruit combos and I asked the guy what the bright pink stuff was. He said it was concentrated cranberry, “good for the milk” and proceeded to use his fingers to create two jet streams shooting out from his chest. Um, oh-kay then! I thought maybe I had misunderstood what he was doing, so I asked Josh about it on the way home. Yep, that’s exactly what he was doing.

Right outside the Spice Market there was a man who was offering bird food for “tuppence a plate.” It was only 1/2 a lira (30 cents) for a small plate of corn.

Caleb and Carter had fun feeding the pigeons until . . .

this little boy intentionally ran through the flock and made them fly . . .

up to a safe haven — a high ledge on the side of the building. He was only 2 years old and was shrieking with excitement so it was pretty funny.

After spices and pigeons the boys wanted to take the train home, but it was about time for dinner so we went in search of some fish.

The Spice Market is right across the street from the entrance to the Galata Bridge and there are always people fishing from it. Rumor had it that you could buy fresh fish sandwiches right from the dock, so off we went in search of dinner . . . (to be continued).

One of the things we loved about Turkey is how much they love kids. Camille spent the entire two weeks fending off unwanted advances by strangers who wanted to pick her up, hold her, kiss her, give her food and other presents, pinch her cheeks and just get as close to her as they possibly could.

She resorted to using what we called “the Heisman.” When people would come up to her and put their hands out as if to pick her up, she would start shaking her head “no” and put her hand straight out to block them. I can’t believe I don’t have a photo of it, but I guess I was too busy laughing to snap a picture.

We went to lunch at this restaurant near our hotel in Istanbul and Camille was perched on my lap, happily chowing down on bread when the owner dragged this enormous baby swing over to our table and wanted to put her in it. We settled for me putting her in it and we all smiled and clapped as she looked at us like we were crazy, but once the owner got it moving, she was happy. I should have gotten a photo of the entire thing because it had a big yellow canopy with gold fringe on it. She looked like a princess on her throne as I tried to time her bites of lunch with the motion of the swing.

One night in Istanbul Josh and I went out to a Turkish bath. I wasn’t exactly sure what to expect — I just knew that you first sit in a really hot steam room and then some dude scrubs you and rinses you off. A traditional Turkish bath is single sex (all women with female attendants or all men with male attendants), but I didn’t want to go by myself so we found a traditional-style bath that did couples and families.

This is my “where the heck are we going?” face. Note the warehouses in the background. We were back in the area the next day and it was crowded with shoppers and open businesses, but at that time of the evening everything had shut down and it looked pretty sketchy.

The back alley did have pretty view though . . .

This bath has been around for hundreds of years and was used by one of the sultans way back when. At least that’s what the sign on the wall said.

We relaxed and had tea while we waited for our turn. You can’t take any photos inside the bath. First, because all the water and steam would ruin your camera. Second, it’s not allowed because people are wandering around in wet pieces of flannel that aren’t exactly flattering and there is the potential for public exposure if you aren’t careful. Not exactly photo-worthy stuff unless you work for TMZ.

Inside there are two levels of changing rooms that surround a center lobby. When it’s your turn they give you a key to one of the rooms and you go in and change into almost nothing. Well, in a real Turkish bath it would be that way. In this one the women are given bikini tops and shorts made out of thin cotton fabric and the men are given a traditional pestemal, a piece of cloth that is wrapped around the waist.

They have a photo gallery on their website where you can see inside the bath and see the bath attire:
http://www.suleymaniyehamami.com.tr/photogallery.htm

Then they give you these wooden clog-like sandals and you clop-clop across the marble floor and into the steam room. I was sure I was going to eat it in those shoes. I guess it’s for “safety” because the wet marble is slippery, but 2 inch thick wooden sandals that don’t fit aren’t exactly what I would choose as a safer alternative to bare feet. But I guess it’s traditional.

Inside the bath there is a large marble island that 4 or 5 people can lie on at one time. The marble is heated somehow and it feels like stretching out on a warm rock on a sunny day. Everything is made of marble and stone. The floors are marble, the basins of water are marble, the walls are marble and stone, the slabs where they wash you are marble. It sort of felt like a really nice frat house where everyone was lounging around in wet “t-shirts” and splashing water on each other.

For the next 45 minutes we stretched out, relaxed, chatted, and enjoyed the heat. The marble basins and taps on the side walls of the room were filled with water of varying temperatures so you could scoop out water and pour it over yourself to cool off if you wanted. I wanted to (and did), Josh thought that defeated the purpose of the “sweat room.”

Meanwhile in three corners of the large room were three different washing rooms with open arched doorways. We caught glimpses of the attendants scrubbing away as we waited for it to be our turn. The actual “bath” takes place in there. There are two marble slabs and two attendants in each of the three rooms.

When bath time came we each sat against the wall and the attendant (dressed only in a pestemal) poured cold water over us to rinse us off. I was really glad I had rinsed off a few times while waiting because the water felt shockingly cold compared to the heat of the room. Then they put on a loofah mit and scrubbed all the surfaces of our bodies. The interesting thing is how it was like a choreographed routine. The attendants moved in unison, each performing the same task (scrub one leg, scrub the other leg, move to the back) at the same time, even when they couldn’t see each other.

Once the scrubbing was finished, more rinsing (brr!), then we stretched out on marble slabs for the sudsing. This was my favorite part. They took thin pillowcases, dunked them in soapy water and filled them with air so they looked like balloons. Then they ran their hands down the length of the pillowcases creating a waterfall of bubbles that spilled down over us. It was like lying on a cloud. That part could have lasted for an hour and I would have been happy. But it was over too soon — more rinsing (the attendants pour water over themselves at the same time. They must get really hot), then a short massage which was wonderful because the attendant was not gentle with the knots in my shoulders. Then more rinsing, hair washing and then it was over.

At that time we left the steam room (dripping wet), shuffling along through the soapy water in the wooden clogs, hoping I didn’t trip on the drainage moat that has been built into the floor . . . in the next room another attendant handed us each a dry pestemal and we went into a changing room to change out of our wet ones and wrapped the dry ones around us. Then the attendant finished wrapping us in thin towels to dry us off and invited us to sit in the lounge and relax.

It was a really fun and unique evening. I loved it, but wish it had lasted longer, especially the sudsing part. It’s the kind of bath that your grandma might have given you on a Saturday night at the end of a long day of playing outside. Serious deep cleaning and all business, no time for playing. (although my kids’ grandmas always make time for the kids to play in the tub . . . maybe that’s a generational thing.)

Josh went back with his parents and the three boys the next day and they had a fun time too. I was a little nervous that the attendants might be just as rough on the boys as they were on us, but the boys all said it didn’t hurt at all. They loved it so much we intended to visit another bath together in Cappadocia, but we ran out of time. I really wish I had pictures of them all wrapped up in their pestemals . . . now when Caleb gets out of the shower he wraps his towel around his waist like they do at the bath. A Turkish tradition lives on.

I took this photo with my flash so you can see how big it is (this is just part of it), but when you’re down there it’s all dark and glowy. When we first started down the steps the damp underground smell and the darkness felt just like we were entering Pirates of the Caribbean ride and I half expected Johnny Depp to pop out of the darkness and start whispering “Dead men tell no tales” at me.

Calvin looks like he’s about to embark on a thrill ride, but nothing down here is scary.

There were tons of fish swimming in the shallow water. They all huddled under the lights like they were waiting for a feeding.

I didn’t know how tall the pillars were, but I was going to guess about 30 feet. Out of curiosity I ran it by my fact checker (google) and my guess was right on. The water used to go most of the way to the top, but now it’s shallow, probably only knee or hip depth.

Another historic sight that Camille slept through. Don’t worry baby girl. We’ll be happy to come back in 10 years and do it all over again with you.

When you first enter the cistern they have a tourist trap photo booth set up where you dress up like a sultan or one of the harem and have a souvenir photo taken. Nana pulled out her “I’m an old lady and this is the only time I’m going to be in Istanbul with you grandchildren card” and roped them into doing it. You aren’t allowed to take your own photos so this is the best I could get of the boys in costume. The professional photo turned out really great. Unfortunately there was only room for five people in the photo, so Josh and I had to sit out. Still crying over that one . . .

The head of Medusa. No one knows why it was placed upside down. Really. Not even all-knowing wikipedia. The head sculptures are older than the cistern itself and were brought in from somewhere else. I have no idea why you’d want something decorative and ornate at the bottom of a receptacle for holding water, but whatever.

So this pillar has a hole in it and it’s famous because if you stick your thumb in it and rotate your hand and your thumb comes out wet, then your wish is supposed to come true. I know it sounds weird, but I’m not making it up. I think it’s some practical joke that a bored Ottoman came up with way back when — their version of the email promising that Bill Gates will pay you if you forward it to all of your friends to help them track how many people are using the internet. (Oh, you didn’t get your check yet? My sister did. I’m sure yours is in the mail . . . )

Anyway, everyone was buying it and standing in line to have a chance at molesting the pillar. All I could think of was how many people had stuck their thumb into that hole and how many nasty germs were being spread between tourists. Icky. Icky. I guess it has something to do with the type of stone that this particular pillar is made out of so it absorbs water and the hole is always wet or something gross like that.

this lady spent a full 30 seconds making sure her wish came true