I'm going to pick up where I left off from the post about Istanbul Old City.
We slept in after our late night out with Nedim, tired and a little hung over, our ears still ringing from the music.
We booked an Airbnb apartment across the Golden Horn from Sultanahmet (Old City) in the modern part of Istanbul. We took a cab since we weren't exactly sure where to go and it was a pretty long up-hill with our bags. Our host, Murat, agreed to explain to the cabby how to arrive since even taxi drivers don't know all of the city. The ride cost us about 20 lira ($6). Murat, was a young guy, very personable and one of the nicest hosts we had on the entire trip.
Murat had all of the windows open, which seemed odd considering it wasn't very warm out. He bid us adieu and suggested we close them. As we lounged around that afternoon, Clare not feeling well and napping, I started to notice that the apartment had a really dingy smell. Thinking we would just get used to it, I tried to ignore it. I left for the afternoon to check out our new location while Clare rested. When I returned, the odor was even more apparent after having been outside. I woke up in the middle of the night smelling the smell. You know it's a bad sign when you don't acclimate. In the morning, I killed two mosquitoes in the place. Zika virus wasn't in Turkey, but it was a little disconcerting especially since it was winter and we hadn't seen any bugs anywhere prior. Anyway, with Clare continuing to feel badly, I contacted our host and asked if we could move to one of his other listings he had mentioned. We ended up moving to an apartment around the corner that his friend owned.
We really didn't want to pack up and move again, not to mention it was pouring rain, but the prospect of staying in that dingy place for a week was frankly unacceptable.
It poured rain that whole day. Clare stayed in, really not feeling well. That evening, I went out alone to find take out. I walked along the famed Istiklal Street, a walking street that supposedly sees two million people a day. I walked up to Taksim Square and found a falafel joint. It was raining so hard, I still can't believe I opted not to wear my rain pants.
In the morning Clare continued to be sick. I stayed in with her until we could get a hold of her doctor back in the US to check in. After a reassuring chat, I headed to visit another hamam, Aga Hamami.
This place obviously catered more to tourists than the first hamam I visited, but it was still small and relatively inexpensive. The primary difference being that it was mixed gender, only segregated for the scrubbing and soaping. Oh, and, while the other place was full of old men, this place didn't have anyone over the age of 35. I relaxed and got another aggressive exfoliation and soap scrubbing. (We bought an exfoliating mitt at the market so we can continue the tradition of rubbing our skin off in our home sauna.)
I went out and got pizza alone for dinner and brought leftovers back to Clare. Then, in the middle of the night, it hit me. Whatever Clare was battling jumped her ship and climbed aboard mine. Already fighting for space in our double bed, me shoved up against the wall, we now started fighting for toilet time. This was not a welcomed "part of the experience."
The following day, Clare was beginning to rally and feel better while I was not. It was Sunday, though, and the only day we could go see a whirling dervish ceremony. With clenched butt cheeks, we cautiously headed down Istiklal Street to the Galata Mevlevi Lodge, near the famous Galata Tower.
The ceremony was held in a circular domed room, spectators sitting behind a railing outside of a wooden floor space. About 12 men filed in to the sound of traditional music, then knelt on section of sheepskin in a line along one edge of the space. A man who appeared to be the leader knelt on a black sheep skin in the middle of the room. After a series of prayers and bows, they got up and started the whirling portion.
In a somewhat organized manner, they twirled in place, slowly migrating around the circular space in a clockwise fashion. They spun around, arms in the air, for ten continuous minutes. Ten minutes. When they stopped they quickly huddled together, shoulder to shoulder, in small groups for stability. After a few minutes of rest, they did it again. They ended up twirling on about 4 occasions, each time for 5-10 minutes. It was an amazing display of resilience and focus.
The next time you're at a kids party and you have to spin around five times and then hit the pinata or the t-ball, be ashamed if you stumble or fall down. You are not worthy.
The next day we were both feeling better (I think the dervishes hypnotized it out of us), finally kicking the bug that plagued us for several days. (We were pretty darn lucky with our health on this trip, only having this one bad spell). So we headed back across the Golden Horn to do some shopping and to pick up our carpets.
Our first stop was for turkish delights, a cube shaped gelatinous treat that is sold everywhere. They come in a number of flavors including pomegranate, rose hip, and pistachio. (Pomegranates and pistachios are everywhere in turkey. Such a treat.) Baklava is also ubiquitous, but we are only bringing that back in memory and our waist lines. We bought several variety boxes of turkish delight.
Heading to Nedim's shop next took us straight through the grand bazaar and surrounding markets. We tried to skirt it, but the gravitational pull was too strong, so we wandered (got lost) looking at things for a while until we emerged on the other side. Nedim had our carpets all ready to go, and even threw in a large duffel bag for us to transport them back home.
I shouldered the 45 pound bag like a backpack and we walked back to our apartment, a few miles away, all up hill. I'm happy to announce that the bag held true and I only sustained minor bruising in my armpits.
That night we were able to go out for a good meal together again. We ate a place called Galata Kitchen that offered several vegetarian options. It was cute, homey and friendly and tasted great.
In the morning we boarded a ship for a full day cruise of the Bosphorous Strait. The Bosphorous separates the European continent from the Asian continent and connects the Black Sea with worlds oceans. Istanbul spans both sides of the Strait, which is about a quarter mile wide, and sits at its southern opening at the Sea of Marmara.
We bought round trip tickets (25 lira each, about $8) on the municipal ferry that calls all along the 19 mile stretch, with a 3 hour stop at the terminal development, just before pouring into the Black Sea. We started the cruise on the aft deck enjoying the city views as the ship pulled away from the Eminonu docks. A mob of selfie stick wielding people suddenly filled the deck and started throwing bread to the seagulls. The nasty sea rats ravenously flocked and squawked around the boat as the people cheered and eagerly snapped photos. We bailed and found seats along the edge of the boat, on the lower level, away from all other people, right on rail overlooking the water. Clare put it best, "people who feed seagulls are not my kind of people."
We were entertained by the busy boat traffic and all the development along the shore. We saw several large container ships and even two huge Russian war ships, probably fresh off a raid of Crimea.
We had a lunch of fried calamari, grilled fish and fried mussels at the final port of call. Bellies full with that sick feeling after eating too much fried shit, we hiked up the hill to an ancient castle ruin. There was a stunning view of the mouth of the bosphorous and the opening of the black sea. We watched as the pilot boat scurried back and forth from shore, picking up and dropping off pilots for the parade of large ships entering and exiting the strait. A huge golden gate-esq extension bridge is under construction that will form yet another connection between the continents and certainly become a new artery of commerce.
The following day marked the beginning of the 8th and final week of our trip and our final change of accommodations. We decided to splurge a little bit and get a hotel. Perched on the hill in the hipster neighborhood of Cihangir (say cheeangesh), we had an amazing view from our balcony over the bustling Bosphorous. Cihangir is home to more kitties than people. They can be seen everywhere, lounging on cars and motorcycle seats, flocking to friendly looking people. One night, we happened across a group of three kitties looking in a basement window, a domestic parakeet on the other side of the screen. Kitty TV. The folks living in the 'hood put out food, water and shelter, making it the best street kitty living outside of Dickey Lake, Montana. My grandma Joan would approve.
That day we enjoyed lunch and dinner at funky hip places that offered many new concoctions not found in the touristy centers in Sultanamet.
We wandered down the hill to the port near our hotel to figure out the ferry for some upcoming adventures. We stopped at one of the open air tea houses along the Bosphorous to smoke a hookah (well, only I smoked) and take in the sights. The sun was shining and it was warm. We watched the boats and soaked it all in. Later that evening we went out for pizza, again at a great little place around the corner. We got dessert to go at one of the many sweets shops and headed back to our balcony. With baklava and beer, we watched the glow of the ferry boats scurry back and forth and the large shadows of the container ships float by.
The following morning we got a ferry over to the "Asian side" landing in the neighborhood of Kadikoy. (We had originally planned to stay in this area for about a week, but because we both got sick and lost a few days, we ultimately decided against it.) We were on a mission to do more shopping, this time for spices. We had read that the market in this neighborhood was very vibrant and frequented by locals to do their shopping. Being less touristy, the shopping experience was much more relaxed.
We immediately happened across the spice shop we were seeking. The two shop keepers were busy packaging bulk spices and basically ignored us until we asked questions. A very welcome change from the grand bazaar and spice market in old town. We bought a couple grams of really high quality Iranian saffron, a bunch of bulk cumin, oregano, mint, pomegranate flower tea and a few other odds and ends.
After lunch and more shopping, we took a really long walk in search of a once weekly market we heard about. We passed by wedding dress row, store after store for several blocks. Dresses displayed in windows three stories high. Unfortunately, after walking for about an hour and a half, it started raining and we couldn't find the market. We asked around, but our charades skills didn't prevail on this day. When we dead ended at a highway, we decided to give up and hale a cab.
Back down near the port, we cozied up out of the rain and had a mug of a traditional turkish winter drink, schlep. It's thick and milky, similar to egg nog, served pipping hot with powdered cinnamon on top.
You see a lot of barber shops in Istanbul, and I had been eyeing them curiously since we arrived. My hair was over my ears and my beard kept getting in my mouth so it was finally time for a trim. Our trip was going to be over in a couple of days, so now was the time. It was about 6pm (on Saturday) by the time we got around to going. The place was full of guys getting done up for the night. Turkish men are quite coiffed. Luckily, there was a spot open for me. Using only hand gestures, I communicated my request. They guy new what to do. I ended with a very stylish do, hairspray and all.
The next day, Clare was inspired to get her haircut. We visited the "hair mafia" salon where she got the full treatment. No english spoken here either, so the stylist called a friend to translate. They washed and cut her hair and then "threaded" her eyebrows. A technique where hair is removed by yanking it out with thread twirled between two hands and mouth of the technician.
We got up bright and early the next day in order to catch a ferry to the Prince's islands out in the sea of marmara. Technically part of Istanbul, these islands are on a different wave length. There are no vehicles, for one, which is a dramatic change from the city proper. In the summer time, it is full of vacationers, but this time of year it was relatively laid back. Transportation on the islands consist of bicycles, electric motorcycles and horse-drawn carriages called phaetons. We opted for bikes, renting from one of the many shops. We spent the day cruising the "big island" Buyukada. It was sunny and upper sixties, making it feel like an island getaway ought to. We lunched on an open air terrace suspended over the sea. It was beautiful. We even spotted a submarine trolling about. It was a great last day in Istanbul. We took the last ferry back to town, crossing the sea in the dark, the expansive city lights sparkling along the horizon.
For our final dinner of the trip, we opted for a unique vegetarian place. We had been traveling for over 60 days and in Istanbul for 18. We were happy to eat something predictable that we knew wouldn't give us problems on our long trip home. That night we sat out on our balcony again, watching the ink black bosphorous lined by sparking lights as the boats moved about. We finished the audio book The Cartel, which we had been listening to during the whole trip. I highly recommend it!
The next morning we started the long trek home. A 12 hour flight from Istanbul to Toronto and then a long delay before our flight from Toronto to Thunder Bay. The night was capped with a 2.5 hour drive, the last 50 miles on dirt road, northern lights dancing in the sky. By the time we arrived home, 26 hours had elapsed and we hadn't slept.
It was an amazing trip, but it was hardly a vacation. It's hard work to be on the road for so long, constantly packing and unpacking, searching for a place to stay, a place to eat, trying to dodge second hand smoke, logistics. Especially when you're pregnant. We didn't take it easy. Clare had an abundance of energy, willingness and capability making her pregnancy a non-issue. I'm inspired by and grateful for her spirit and perseverance.
In hindsight, Amsterdam was amazing, in large part due to great recommendations (thanks John and Kim!), but super expensive (glad we started there). We were underwhelmed by Prague and the Christmas markets - we were hoping for a white Christmas and something more unique (and more stuff to be open!) Slovenia was a pleasant surprise and a highlight (next time I would rent a car there allowing more autonomy). Bosnia was suprisingly beautiful, raw, with interesting culture and food. I'd like to explore it more, and I highly recommend visiting. Croatia was stunningly beautiful, but really touristy. This was a double edged sword, there were less crowds, but much of it was closed down making the food scene pretty bad. Istria was good, but otherwise it was really hard for us. Greece was everything we hoped it would be and we look forward to seeing other parts in the future. Istanbul was vibrant and bustling, intriguing, unique and beautiful. A little overwhelming for us country kids. We are grateful to have spent a lot of time there and really get a feel for the culture. Unfortunately, the situation in Syria and the corresponding conflict with Russia could make it a harder destination to visit in the future.
We are thankful for everyone back in the States that helped enable the trip, from watching our pets to providing great advice and encouragement. It was the perfect way for us to transition into our new life and work.
