Blogging on

It appears I’ve reached a blog milestone.  I wasn’t aiming for it because I wasn’t aware it existed and I’m certainly not pleased about it.  But today ends the day of free blogging for Jennifer.  I’ve reached my Google 1GB free memory storage limit.  After six years of a mixed bag of travel adventures and mishaps, I will need to url hyperlink things or start a new blog or, God forbid, pay $2.99 a month for the privilege of this user space.  Back in the primitive days, I could barely add captions under the pictures.  Now I’ve got to reach new heights (or pay for them).  Thus is the evolution of humanity (and capitalist systems). 

Forgive me. I’m exhausted.  I find myself under the florescent lights and vastly expanded domestic terminal at New York’s JFK airport after an 8.2-hour flight from London, then haul through baggage and trek through terminal 4.  It’s been quite a few years since I’ve sat here. (Actually, this part of the terminal is new so I’ve never sat here, but you get the point).   Six years ago I left this beloved little huge metropolis knowing, but too scared to admit, that’d I’d probably not be back—in the Biblical sense at least.  Six years an expatriate has made me a bit gun shy—the lights are bright, too bright, the American football on the tv seems brash and foreign, the universal-bar-grill-restaurants that dot the terminal look like cookie cutters of each other and I feel out of place.  It will pass.  It always does. 

But this time around I’ve got a layover on the way to Detroit to mull it all over.  As much as I’m that person I was six years ago, I’m just as much not.  Which sounds like such a load of BS.  And this is not the forum for that level of self-indulgent psychobabble.  Travel self-indulgence, yes.  The rest, not so much. 

So I’ll just end on this.  When I moved to Edinburgh in 2004 I improvised a series of wall and door decorations like you do when you’re a college student.  And on the door, I left a little cutout next to my customary dry-erase-leave-me-a-message-because-I’m-not-here-board.   It read: ‘Travel broadens the mind.’

Thank God.   Because even reading about travel broadens the mind.  So get with it, Google, because I plan on doing this for a while yet. 

The Hamam

Paul is a man big on his pampering. He likes a good scrub down and heard a rumor that the Turkish do too.  This is how we found ourselves at Suleymaniye Hamam, an ancient hamam located just around the corner from the famous Suleymaniye Mosque.  The building itself was constructed by Sinan in the mid-1500s with some important structural updates taking place over the years. 

We chose this particular hamam for a few reasons, namely that it was further away from the central tourist area and it was for mixed genders.  The more authentic hamams in the city cater to a single sex depending on the day/time.  Female attendants generally soap down females, males soap males.  Our little old hamam catered to families and couples--we were to be scrubbed by male attendants in a non-nude atmosphere.  

The experience started with us being handed little plaid shorts/bikini and checking our belongings into a little cabin: 

The camera got left there as we headed into a large, hot, steamy chamber where we laid on a gigantic marble slab.  Mimicking lizard behavior, we soaked up the heat and warmth, belly-up and then flipping, before being beckoned over to gigantic faucet taps where we were rinsed down and then bubbled up on a gigantic massage table.  

Our masseurs wore gigantic exfoliation mitts and proceeded to scrub away the dead skin across all uncovered parts of our flesh before smacking us with soapy water and bubbling us up.  At one point, a three-foot-high bubble enveloped me.  Our masseurs just laughed.  

And then smacked us with a tub of warm water to wash it all away. It was painful in a good way.  Once clean, we were whisked and wrapped and dried into a fug of warmth and happiness.  

As we finished the afternoon with warm tea and shisha, it didn't matter if the experience was overly touristic or not.  Squeaky clean, we faced the remainder of our holiday perfectly content.

Taksim

I'm too far removed from my trip to Turkey (despite the time stamp, which is a fabrication; the real date I write this is 21 Dec 2014!) to remember specifics about our time in Taksim.  What I do remember is that 1. vegetarian options were aplenty there, and nowhere else in Istanbul; 2.  Cukurcuma is the home of antiques in Istanbul.  We were met with an array of delightful shops filled with Turkish tat, tack and wonders.  Dotted between the shops were an array of cafes and coffee shops--my personal idea of heaven:

Holy Coffee in Cukurcuma: 

 And street art, both purposeful and impromptu, reigned supreme:

 Tiny sidewalks:

 Sunshine:

 Quirk:

 The odd mosque:

 

 

Love, love, love this part of the city.

Asia meets Europe

Istanbul boasts its geographical location as the only city in the world to straddle two continents.  Water dominates the landscape of seven hills--the city is bi(tri?)sected by the Bosphorus and the Bay of Bosphorus which then connects the Mediterranean with the Black Sea.  All this amounts to a hell of a lot of water, for lack of a more precise term.  

As such, fishing plays a big part in the local economy and entertainment industries.  On any given day or evening, men, children and a few women line the Galata Bridge with their bait and tackle in hand.  I think it's partially about the fishing but more about the company and camaraderie; everyone's friends here.  

And for low, low prices, tourists can also buy a cup of bait and rent a fishing pole on the Galata Bridge:

With the view of Sulyemaniye Mosque in the background, there's hardly a more stunning manmade fishing viewpoint: 

On the bay, ornate Turkish boats line the river peddling kebabs and other delicious smelling spiced meats.  

It is also possible to organize boat trips that span both Europe and Asia.  Our hotel organized one that came with rather contrived Turkish dancers, a jaunt to the Muslim influenced Asia side, a stop at a lighthouse used in the James Bond films and some stunning sunset views.  

The Bosphorus bridge is one of only two suspension bridges that spans the gigantic river. There are other bridges currently in construction but nothing nearly as spectacular. 

From afar:

The built up posh section of the European side of the city:

All built up: 

 A view of Rumeli fortress, on the European side.  It protected various eras of Ottoman rulers and the city of Istanbul from invasion: 

And then across the river, welcome to Asia:

We had about forty-five minutes to stumble around this particular port in Asia and discovered nothing too exciting. But that's not to say there's nothing there and given more time, we'd have done some serious Asia explorations.  Maybe next time.

A thousand stunning sunset snaps awaited us:

 

 

 

 

I couldn't help myself. Beautiful, beautiful. 

The Whirling Dervishes

If you, like me, were concerned that the Orient Express was a figment of Agatha Christie's imagination,  stress no longer: 

It's here! In Istanbul! In all its opulence.  The original route saw luxury tourists travel from Paris to Istanbul via some truly magnificent centres of empire like Vienna and Budapest.  Things went smoothly up to the mid-20th century when technology and transport started shifting and in 1977 Istanbul was cut out of the route altogether.

What remains is a glorious edifice built with a nod to European Orientalism during the late 1800s.  As if Istanbul didn't have enough going for it already, Sirkeci Terminal still serves as the centre point for trains heading to both Europe and Asia.  

More topically, one of its antique rooms also served as a gateway into a dizzying and magnificent tradition, that of the whirling dervishes. Wikipedia has it that the men, followers of the Sufi faith, spin round and round as a form of remembrance of God. It's a reverence and a skill that defies words; I cannot begin to understand the ritual and religion behind the practice, but of all the rituals performed in the name of religion, I must admit this was the most mesmerizing. 

We were witness to a tourist version of the 'Sema', a mystical journey of man's spiritual ascent through mind and love to find the 'perfect'.  As the men spin, they defy ego to turn towards the truth and grow in their love for God and the universe.  This process complete, the men return from their spiritual journey as men who have reached maturity and a greater perfection, able to be of service to the whole of creation. 

The evening began when a group of musicians carrying traditional instruments stepped out followed by a solo singer who sang a haunting medley. According to my wikipedia-gained knowledge, this part of the ceremony is called 'Naat and Taksim' where a solo singer offers praise for the Islamic prophet Muhammed.  The musicians improvisation that followed is meant to symbolise man's separation from God. 

For twenty minutes they drummed and strummed along before a group of black robed(symbol of the grave), brown hatted (symbol of the tombstone) men appeared to start the next part of the ceremony, the Devr-i Veled':

They bowed and kneeled together in a  row before completely ignoring the crowd gathered around them in a large square. This bow is said to represent the acknowledgement of the divine breath which has been breathed into all living beings. 

And then one by one by one they unfurled themselves into a sequence of spinning bodies, spinning on left feet only with right palms facing upwards towards Heaven, starting the next part of the ceremony, 'The Four Salams':

 

Of the five dervishes, four wore white gowns (meant to be symbols of death) under their cloaks and stood as symbols of the moon. The fifth dervish, the Sheikh, representative of the sun, wore turquoise blue.  The men in white spun around the man in blue; their heads never moved down and their eyes never looked forward.   There was a trancelike bliss to their state and what appeared to be a true harmony with God:

Each spinning man represents a part of the spiritual journey every believer goes through.  The first man represents the recognition of God; the second one spins in recognition of unity; the third represents the ecstasy a person experiences with total surrender to God; the fourth symbolises peace that comes from divine unity.  

The men spun for minutes on end without stopping or swaying.

As the hour wound down to an end, each man began to slow down, bow and then re-robe himself and walk away. Finally, the leader of the group knelt, mumbled a prayer to himself, folded the red robe (pictured above) over himself, folded the mat underneath and then casually strolled out of the room.  They waited for no applause. 

We walked out in  one of those comfortable but profound silences and we remained that way for half of the walk home.  

Topkapi Palace

On day three of our Istanbul adventures we headed back to the huge Sultanahmet area and Topkapi Palace.  The site was once residence to myriad Ottoman sultans and, as such, hosts a wealth of buildings with stunning views of both Europe and Asia.        

Dubbed a UNESCO World Heritage Site, it was also crammed full of tourists who took pictures of the ceilings and pictures of the libraries and pictures of the fish ponds.  I didn't hold back; I'm a sucker for Turkish tiles.

And ceilings:

 And ceiling arches:

 And more tiles:

In-house open-air fountain/fish pond: 

 

 The reading room:

 With the stripes, I blend right in:

There are so, so many more.  Take my word for it--it's a big place.  Go visit; it's worth the entrance fee. 

Sultanahmet Markets

On the first day of the great Turkish adventure, Paul and I donned religion-appropriate gear and headed off to explore Istanbul's Old Town--Sultanahmet.  Pottering around in this part of town can take the best part of forever; it ranges from the Hagia Sophia to Sultanahmet Mosque to the Grand Bazaar and Spice Market to Topkapi Palace, which in of itself, can take the whole day to explore.

Again, massively overwhelming.

We spent three days on and off, with siesta breaks in between, exploring the old town and paying various entrance fees. The highlight was seeing Serena Williams and entourage towering above hordes of Turkish men in the Spice Market with her billowing height, massive biceps and bouffant hair.  There was no chance, post Istanbul Cup Win, that she was going to blend in.  And I must admit, I was a bit starstruck.  We tailed her briefly before heading back into one part of the maze or another.

Spice Market:

Other parts of various bazaars revealed lamps, carpets, candles, tiles, books, all at tourist prices.  Rumour has it, that the Grand Bazaar is home to over 4000 shops and stalls. Multiply that by two, the average number of men working in each stall and that's over 8000 men shouting to you that their wares are the best, the prettiest, the most moderately priced.  It was entirely spectacular. 

Different Parts of the (very) Grand Bazaar: 

We also discovered the gem of the Nargile bars--large open area bars decked in benches and cushions serving various flavoured teas and tobaccos, hookah style.  From time to time, a man with a bucket of burning coals comes around to replace the coal on top of individual pipes and then you're just free to sit, relax, drink tea.  It's like a coffee shop, only outdoors with smoke.  But not smoky smoke. Flavoured apple, strawberry, mint smoke.  Tasty smoke.  

Delish!