Istanbul

04Dec09

Istanbul, so croons the guidebook, is a mish mash between East and West, Europe and Asia, rich history and modernity yadda yadda (what does that actually mean?). Tourism guidebooks are full of this kind of outdated, marketable anthropology with no self-critical awareness and with an irritating tenacity to describe things in banal, meaningless binaries (there are men and women, nights and days, cats and dogs…ohmigod). Mind you, I don’t expect my own travelogue to do much better – a trite warning – so I’ll just post a few highlights

Istiklal Cad.

As we strolled down this street, dazzled by the dangling lights, trendy bars and familiar-brand shops, Istanbul resembled a prettier, pedestrianised Oxford Street. There was music-blaring bar-cum-bookshops open past 1.30AM, cosy pubs with eclectic décor and mouth-watering sweetshops, it wasn’t difficult making oneself ‘at home’. It was, if anything, too homely, and we quickly found ourselves falling back into our old habits of spending our time in a trendy bar as we would in London, paying London prices.

Turkish Baths

Ever since I read Lady Mary Montague’s plush account of a Turkish Bath, I was compelled by the experience. Firstly, I had no idea what one was: would I be plunged in water? Expected to be surrounded by naked, beautiful women? All was soon to be demystified: under a dotted dome ceiling, a large marble decagon lay beneath on which two naked women (tourists) were lying. The heat hits first, a gigantic sauna: how long can one stand the pleasurable pain? I made my way to two bubbling pools, gingerly toeing the steaming water. The heat was simultaneously stifling and relieving. After inching my way into the water, my heart rate doubled once the submergence was complete. After doggy paddling rather awkwardly, I pulled myself out and hopped my way to the central stone slab due to the heat (ah, so that’s the reason they gave us sandals) and lay down on the sheet they provided me. The violent heat was unbearable, so I rather ungraciously spent a great deal of the rest of my time drenching myself in cold water, sheet and all, in a bizarrely happy reverie.

Hospitality

The other major thing that has to be mentioned is the hospitality of people. After getting lost on the wrong side of Topkapi – the supposed slums – rather than getting mugged by strangers, we were graciously guided back to the train station by an awesomely friendly father who took us down the endless capillaries of streets. There are too many instances of Turkish hospitality to mention – lest to say, I wish people were friendlier in this way in London (including myself). In one eaterie, we got free cay, baklava and the owner set himself on fire for our entertainment.

Strange demonstrations

One of the least explicable things of Istanbul was a demonstration where hundreds, if not thousands of people dressed as police officers carried a long, large Turkish flag and held banners glorifying the police. It was a river of red: but a very peaceful river red. It was difficult to interpret: was it a protest (one of the police officers said no) or was it glorifying Turkey? Lest to say, it was only until we left Turkey that we realised Obama was controversially visiting Istanbul the next day so it may have been held in his honour. However, it was a symbolic, striking, intimidating image with which to leave.

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