ISTANBUL.
The city that changed it all for me. I have spent weeks trying to figure out what to write about the life altering metropolis that I consider my home away from home. The city itself is so incredibly overwhelming that it makes it difficult to pick out specific instances to write about. What follows will be a jumble of experiences that made my 6 weeks in Istanbul so memorable.
- Tear gas and riot police. One of the most striking things to me about Istanbul was the heavy presence of police, specifically riot police. Massive buses reinforced with metal cages strong enough to withstand tanks casually creep up and down the streets. Pedestrians don’t pay them much heed as the narrowly pass by. Every now and then they blast their horns releasing an eerie call that is reminiscent of the aliens from War of the Worlds. You can always tell where the demonstration is thanks to the ominous call echoing throughout the neighborhood. The police themselves are generally young men joking among themselves in full riot gear complete with helmets, boots, and shields. Secret police blend into the crowds as men dressed in street clothes with hidden batons strapped stealthily to their backs. The tear gas tanks themselves are the most intense. Cannons rest on the top of military style tanks ready to fire canisters of misty pain into the crowds. My only contact with the gas was one night after demonstrations caused by the conflict with ISIS and the Kurds. Rachel and I went to meet a friend just after the protesters had been scattered. We walked through Taksim Square, the general meeting place of demonstrations, and noticed an even larger police presence than usual. As we marched towards our promised beer we kicked tear gas canisters out of our way, the empty containers rattling down Istiklal Boulevard. There were no side effects until we started to descend into a lower neighborhood and could see an apocalyptic cloud hovering in the street ahead. With scarves pulled up over our faces we continued on our quest. Immediately our throats started to itch, noses started to pour, eyes watered, and coughs crept up. Such a small amount of gas created quite the discomfort and quickly changed my mind about wishing we had been in the thick of the demonstration. The most amazing thing about all of this is how nobody pays it any mind. Istanbul tends to stand up for what it believes in so the occasional spray of gas seems worth it.
- Refugees. The conflict in Syria has caused many refugees to spill over the border into Turkey. Some, inevitably, make their way into Istanbul. The streets are dotted with (occasionally wailing) women dressed in layers, head scarves sometimes covering the majority of their faces. They usually have at least one, but usually three or four offspring with them. Babies are often times doped to sleep through the hectic and never ending cacophony of the city. Small children run wildly with bare feet between the stopped cars, knocking on the windows with filthy little knuckles for the hope of a few Lira. Mini musicians toot away on cheap, plastic toys that create some semblance of a tune. Mothers strategically place their children in the middle of the busiest streets on top of ragged blankets hoping to catch the attention of the hundreds of shoppers strolling past. More touching than any of this, however, were the few Syrian refugees that I had the pleasure of meeting. They were without a doubt some of the most optimistic, beautiful, loving people who have been thrown from their homes into countries that don’t exactly welcome them with open arms. Their hopeful smiles will always remind me that my little first world dramas are nothing compared to what the rest of the world is experiencing at any given moment. Their strong will to not only survive, but thrive, was inspirational on many levels. I won’t forget them or the lessons they taught me about life just by being in their presence.
- Street food. I know that this doesn't necessarily fit in with riot police and refugees but damn, the food is so good. Pomegranates, figs, almonds (I had more almond dinners than I should admit to), roasted corn on the cob, SIMIT, honey soaked deep fried treats, pancakes stuffed with cheesy mashed potatoes, and the list keeps going. Without a doubt the most delightful provisions to be found on a street corner are the meatball sandwiches. After a night out there is nothing more tantalizing than the sound and smell of street meat. Meat in bread was the theme of my diet in Istanbul, supplemented with almonds, of course. There were also breakfasts consisting of olives, simit (think sesame bagel, but better), tomatoes, cucumber, fruit, eggs, and whatever other random snack was in the house. My days were also supplemented by the quintessential supply of Kay (pronounced chai) and Turkish coffee. In addition to street food the restaurants boast myriad appetizers of the warm or cold variety depending on your mood. Kebabs, fish, and meat dishes all are washed down with the traditional Raki that tastes like licorice and tends to sneak up on you in the best possible way. If for nothing else, go to Istanbul for the food. You will not be disappointed.
- Bathhouses. I always seems to find myself naked in a room full of elderly native ladies when I travel and I am not complaining. I had two drastically different bath house experiences while staying in Istanbul. The first was my first day in the city. I joined a group from my hostel and we made our way to one of the most known spas in the city, Çemberlitaş Hamamı which was built in 1584. Upon entering the girls were separated from the boys and given little gift bags not unlike the ones you receive when leaving a child’s birthday party back home. Inside this little surprise sack was a locker key, a scrubbing towel, and a very attractive pair of black panties that would make the ladies of the 80's proud. Finally dressed, or maybe undressed, in my saggy black briefs I wandered into the bath. First thing to note is that Turkish bathhouses do not have any baths in the sense that we know them. Rather, they are giant domed rooms complete with a massive hot marble rock in the center surrounded by taps on the outer edges of the walls. I perched myself like a beached whale on the warm marble and gazed upwards to domed ceiling hovering above me. Concentric patterns drilled into the building let rays of sun drift lazily down into the baths. After becoming almost hypnotized by the warmth and overwhelming history of the place I was given my scrub. A scantily clad Turkish woman lathered me with a two foot pile of bubbles before scraping off weeks of dead skin. I flopped helplessly around the wet marble all the while enjoying the massage and skin ripping cleanse. A quick and violent hair wash ended my treatment. For the next hour or so I lazed around scooping water of various temperatures from the ancient tubs dotting the walls and drenching myself. The second experience had many of the some attributes but was considered to be more “authentic”; meaning the towels were all shared and the dressing rooms opened directly onto the street. In order to coax me out of my clothes the plump door woman proudly ripped her top off and massaged herself in front of me until embarrassment had me stripping down to an equal level of nudity. Both baths were decorated with intricate blue tiles and archways that made them seem other worldly. It is always disconcerting to leave the calm, quiet peace of the baths to return to the madness of the city that is Istanbul.
- The heartbeat of the city. I have said it before and I will say it again, Istanbul is a living and breathing organism. Istanbul actually translates to “in the city” which couldn’t be more appropriate. The sound never ceases in a city of 20 million. Cars, crows, criers make sure that the terrifying nature of silence will not be felt. Kids dot the streets at all hours and the shops never seem to close. Neon lights flicker off only at 7am when the city finally seems to take half a rest. Traveling can be desperately lonely at times, yet when you are in the middle of such a stimulating metropolis it is hard to feel cut off. People work and live together in a sort of chaotic harmony that calms my confused heart. The madness of the city is comforting in its own wild way and I hope to find myself back in its hectic embrace soon.
I could on for hours about Istanbul. Considering the length of this post I would be surprised if any of you made it this far in reading, so for now this is all. More will follow in the days to come. Romania and Budapest deserve their own posts as well. I am preparing to embark on a road trip through The Balkans that I can only assume will inspire some sort of weak poetry from me. To those I have already said goodbye to, I love you all and miss you everyday. To those I have yet to see, let’s take the world by storm.
