Mussels, Bubbles and the Hagia Sophia

Eid Break is traditionally a time when families slaughter a goat or cow in remembrance of the willingness of Abraham to sacrifice his son, Ishmael. The meat is divided into thirds. One third goes to the poor. One third to greater family. One third for yourself. For me, Eid el Adha is the time when I went exploring--although, I did see blood running through the streets of Cairo. That was gross.

Istanbul is incredibly beautiful. For one, there were leaves that were changing colors. There was air that was less smoggy. I could almost smell nature. In accordance to what everyone has said, it is an ingenious blend of east meets west. And there was no Arabic.

Right from the get go, Susannah had us moving. Night one was spent in Taksim, the sight of the suicide bombing last month. Taksim is like Iowa City on speed. Lights. Laughter. Hoards of people moving, mingling. Food is abundant. I was even brave enough, after some prodding, to try the street mussels.  A man has a stand full of mussels stuffed with a rice mixture. You give him a lira he opens one and squeezes some lemon juice on them. Then it’s down the hatch. These are one of the most dangerous street foods to eat, but oh yum are they delicious.

Instead of doing all the super touristy things right away, we spent the next day in Sariyer, near Susannah’s college. Nestled into a forest, the campus was beautiful. It made me jealous of how beautiful it was. There wasn’t any trash in sight. Sariyer is a little fishing village right on the Boshporus. We roamed the colorful streets and ate lunch along the water. I had fried sardines. Don’t judges. They were delicious. (That’s the theme of Turkey—delicous food)

I loved Turkey for the fact is was so clean. There was even recycling! The CARE about the environment. The air was crisp and I even needed a jacket that night when we took the ferry across to the Asian side of Turkey at Katakoy. We ate at another fabulous restaurant, Ciya. I even tried sheep intestine (tasted like lamb with a weirder texture.)

In the middle of the meal, a man bursts through the restaurant hands covering his head yelling. Outside, people begin shouting and pushing. No one knew what was going on. My first thought was a bomb. Then we see two men wailing on each other. Chairs get involved, then a table. Turns out this massive fight was over a football match. Silly Turks.

Of course, being in Turkey, you have to do the sights. The Blue Mosque was probably my favorite. The intricacies of the ceiling was incredible. Of course, the Hagia Sophia was splendid and the Basilica Cistern, an underground cavern that once held the cities water, was spooky. We bargained our way through the Spice Market and the overwhelming Grand Bazaar. I got to practice my burgeoning arguing skills.

But then there’s the stuff that a lot of people don’t do, or at least don’t admit. Like the Turkish Bath. That was an experience.

The five of us were led into a room where we were given towels to wear. After spending sufficient time soaking in the sauna we were led two at a time to a heated marble slab and told to lie down—naked—on the table. Shit got real. The sauna loosens the dead skin (apparently I have very dry elbows?) They take a loofa to EVERYYYY part of your body before coating you in bubbles for a massage. With two girls on a table at a time, it’s one camera away from a porno.

But it may have been the most memorable part of Turkey, if not for the inside jokes that came out of it. And hey, at least my elbows are soft now.

After that we needed some drinks, and promptly headed out to Ortakoy to meet up with Susannah’s friends at the local watering hole. We spent the night sitting along the water, bartering for jewelry and eating the biggest stuffed baked potato I’ve ever seen. I think it was stuffed with a hot dog. I don’t really eat hot dogs, but let’s just say at the moment it was all I wanted. A late night ensued.

Perhaps the best meal I had in Turkey was named “Mezze and Raka night.” Mezze is popular in the Middle East. Tiny little dishes are bought and split between a bunch of people and eaten over drinks of raka—which is akin to the Jordanian liquor, Araq. Nasty Nasty licorice stuff. But over eggplant, spinach, smoked salmon and countless other mezze we split, it wasn’t so bad. It did the trick. (Susannah and I followed this meal by playing some intense checkers for about two hours. I won 3-0)

The last day was spent at the Prince’s Islands. We had to take a ferry about 2 hours to get there. This island was charming. No cars were allowed, so instead there were horse and carriages or bikes. It is clearly a place to summer Istanbul’s wealthy. We wandered along the water for a while before summoning the courage to hike to the top of the mountain to eat/see a monastery/for the view? I’m not exactly sure why. It was such a difficult hike. The cobbled pathway did not make it any easier for those of us with poor shoes. The view at the top was spectacular. But my glutes and calves could have done with out it.

Turkey was a wonderland of things I had forgotten about. Clean public restrooms, recycling, fresh air, wearing non conservative clothes. Even still, there were reminders that this was still the Middle East. Men still catcalled. “Hi Spicy Girls”.

We got called that a lot “Spicy Girls” So it was decided that I was sporty spice, because I guess I am the most athletic of the bunch?

Part 2 comes tomorrow, and in it I will regale the misery that was Cairo. 

For Pictures click HERE