On Monday morning Asli dropped me at a metro station on Istanbul's European side, and I set off to find my hotel. The Istanbul metro is new, but somehow the designers were able to capture the gritty feel of the NYC MTA. I don't know how to express it. The station interior is utilitarian, and covered in a fine layer of grime. It is new and old; the look is timeless. When a train approaches, a cow appears on the electronic signboard with the words "the train is cooooming!" Why a cow? No idea.
My hotel in Sultanahmet, Ishak Pasa Konagi, is delightful. You enter through a little courtyard surrounded by flowers. My room is up against the Topkapi Palace wall - a bit of it has been left exposed. I take back everything I've ever said against Sultanahmet. It is so much nicer here now. I definitely recommend staying in this area, as long as you carefully vet the street, since there are still some seedy corners.
After a refreshing shower, I decided to wander over towards the Grand Bazaar. As always, I ended up at the Nuruosmaniye Gate. Once I got past the gate it really wasn't crowded. I managed to ignore all the shop keepers except one, and found myself buying a kilim. I blame it on the house renovation - I'm still in decorating mode. The carpet seller was named Mehmet. He began by whining about how bad business is, wah wah wah. Then he started describing the attributes of the various carpets, beginning with the ones from Cappadocia, his home town. He offered me tea. When the customers inside left, he started pulling out all the kilims.
I can't say I'm a kilim expert, but I know a few things. Wool on wool is the most durable weave. The kilim should be woven tightly. Weird bright colors indicate synthetic dye; natural dyes are more desirable as they wear better. I ended up buying a tight wool/wool kilim that is supposedly from the 60s and made in Konya. After I picked what I liked, Mehmet said, "do you want the price, or shall we bargain?" Naturally we bargained. I think I did a pretty good job for a rookie - I probably paid a hundred bucks too much. Ahmed tells me I started off too high. Live and learn! Mehmet also learned something - always ask about payment method. At the very end when I pulled out my American Express, his face fell. Not only are Amex fees high, They also had to run the charge in Turkish Lira instead of dollars. Maybe I didn't exactly have the last laugh, but it was at least a chuckle.
On a side note, I can't tell you how nice it is to have everyone tell you "oh my god, your Turkish is so great!" This trip has been a total ego boost. In just a few days my Turkish is 1000% improved. In a month I'd be back where I was in 1998.
After lunch I walked down through the Spice Market. Just two or three blocks off the tourist drag you can still find pockets of old Istanbul. The area around the ferry dock was, and still is, a working neighborhood of warehouses and textile shops. Suiting fabrics, curtains, socks, underwear, towels - you name it - if it is a textile you can find it here, retail and wholesale. I was reminded of the Garment District in NYC, as it used to be. Here and there statues have been erected to celebrate the life of the quarter. A statue of a porter celebrates those hardworking men who pull loaded carts through the street. Another depicts a fabric seller unrolling a bolt of cloth with a flourish.
I came across a store selling scarves and stopped for a look. The gray-haired smiling shopkeeper asked me my favorite color. I said It's not for me. Ah, for your mother? he said. I said No, for my mother-in-law, and he said no no, she's your MOTHER, your MOTHER, wink wink.
As I walked along the Golden Horn Bridge, admiring the sun-sparked waves that trailed the ferry boats, I heard a rumble. I turned to see giant black clouds looming behind me. Istanbul weather can change in a minute. I made it all the way up the hill to Istiklal Caddesi before the rain started.
With the first drop of rain came the umbrella sellers. Very soon the street was filled with identical cheap umbrellas. I took my new purchase up to Taksim Square. Standing near the now famous Gezi Park, watching the tourists and shoppers hurry by, clutching their umbrellas, it was impossible to picture the tear gas and water cannons of Saturday night. Only a line of blue police barriers on one side of the square gave an indication of past or future strife.
When I exited the tram in Sultanahmet, I heard shouting and saw a crowd gathered. Folk dancers were giving a performance, and spectators huddled under umbrellas cheered them on.
The damp evening air was redolent with jasmine and wood smoke. By now it was nearly 8:30, the end of a long and eventful day. I decided to have a drink at the Four Seasons and call it a day.
Let me tell you, the rich know how to live. My drink - bourbon and ginger ale - came on a silver tray. The tray held a glass of bourbon and ice and a glass Erlenmeyer flask of ginger ale. To one side, a silver stirring rod sat in a silver holder, like a (fancy) pencil in a (fancy) pencil cup. A bowl of warmed mixed nuts and a dish of spiced olives followed. A waiter discreetly set down a fresh newspaper. And then they left me alone to enjoy my drink. Later, I decided to smoke a cigarette, because dammit I'm on vacation. The hotel is clearly non-smoking, but I asked anyway. Oh yes! We have an area in the garden - right this way! They led me to a patio where large canopies protected the furniture from the rain. One waiter scurried off for the seat cushion. As I settled back on the cushions, I realized the rosy glow over my head came from heat lamps. All this for one person! And I didn't have to pay $700 a night to experience it, only about $25. Now that's a bargain. :)
