Istanbul Part III: Sultanahmet

My first impression of Sultanahmet comes in the back of a shuttle van, on my way to the hotel from the airport. I am startled by the narrowness of the streets - barely enough room for two cars to pass each other - and by the fact that we don't hit any of the stray cats on the way, because there are cats on literally every corner. The buildings are fairly tall and narrow, most of them stretching up five or six stories high in an effort to get that money-making view of the Marmara Sea from the top floor. Almost every establishment has a top floor dining room/terrace/dance floor/etc. And it's worth it, because the view is gorgeous, as I discover the next morning from the breakfast terrace of our hotel.




And while we're on the topic I think the breakfast menu is worth noting: sesame bread rolls, goats'-milk cheese, sliced tomatoes and cucumbers, green and black olives, sliced oranges, yogurt, jam and honey, hard-boiled eggs, and pound cake, washed down with Nescafe, cherry juice, and orange Tang! Obviously, right? Because what would breakfast be without some Tang?

Shortly after arriving, my mom and I are sitting in the hotel room, debating our dinner options, when we get our first sharp reminded that we are very far away from home. The call to prayer, called adhan, begins for the fifth and final time of the day around 7:30 pm. The first time I hear it, it's profoundly spooky. I run to the window half-expecting to see men dropping to their prayer mats in the streets. I don't see this, of course, because most of Istanbul's population, though Muslim, is not terribly devout. Most of the population attends the Friday afternoon service, and prays then, sort of like a Christian who attends church only on Sunday mornings. The adhan does become one of my favorite things about Istanbul. I even wake up for the 5am call, the first of the day, and sit at the window with my head leaning out in the dark.






When we first set out to explore the neighborhood, we quickly discover that it's difficult, if not impossible, to walk up the street without getting sucked into a conversation with one of the hundreds of men standing in front of their stores and restaurants. I suppose it would be possible if you were cold-hearted and/or dead inside, but I personally find it charming, so I tend to allow myself to be sucked in. Everyone wants to know where we were from, and the response "California" tends to result in much admiration, as well as a number of responses such as:

"Oh, I've been to California, but only once... do you know of Emeryville?"
or
"My cousin lives in California, perhaps you know his town... it's called Lafayette."

Obviously two of the COOLEST towns in California, right? I don't meet anyone who has been to San Francisco, actually, but a lot of people seem to have a very magical image of it in their heads. I do not try to dissuade them of its awesomeness.

Aside from wanting to know our hometowns, these men are also eager to offer any number of camels to my mother in exchange for me. This is a typical Turkish turn of phrase (joking of course). Sometimes they preface their proposal with a touch of flattery for Mom, such as "Oh, what a lovely little sister you have!" Alas, no one has access to enough camels to satisfy my demanding mother, and so I am denied the acquisition of a husband on this trip. I do, however, learn to love the banter from the shopkeepers and restaurateurs:

"Hello lady, yes please, would you like to have a look at my menu? We have terrace upstairs..."
"Oh, Mama, such a pretty daughter - look at those eyes! Please come inside, we have pashmina..."
"Ladies, would you like to see my carpets? I will make a deal just for you..."

By the end of the trip, we are in the shop at the corner every night, enjoying tea and the nargileh with Ibrahim, Ugur, and Hakan. It almost feels like we're locals.

It is far and away my favorite part of Istanbul. Everyone is incredibly friendly. I find myself wanting to live here forever: waking up at 5 to hear adhan, eating goat cheese and cucumbers for breakfast, drinking tea in a carpet shop, petting the stray cats, smoking the nargileh on a terrace overlooking the Sea of Marmara, eating a sesame ring outside the Blue Mosque, drinking raki and eating meze... So don't be surprised if I disappear, because this is where you will probably find me.