Home Page, June, 2010

TURKEY: EXOTIC BRIDGE BETWEEN EAST & WEST

When I landed in Istanbul May 6, the world was not such a happy place.  Thailand was in turmoil, across the Aegean, Greece was in economic meltdown, parts of my old hometown (Nashville) were under ten feet of water and clearly I wasn’t the only one who could have used a vacation.

But Turkey was booming, its economy robust enough that the Turkish premier called on his Greek counterpart during my visit to offer economic aid.  You could hear the grinding of teeth all the way from Athens to Istanbul as the ancient enemy was forced to politely accept the offer of help.

I met my husband Graeme at the end of his consultancy in Istanbul, and we settled into the intimate Hotel Ada in Sultanamet (the Old City, where extraordinarily talented Turkish drivers squeeze past each other with millimeters to spare and no paint lost).  The view from the roof terrace where breakfast was served was spectacular, and we were within walking distance of all the great sights of Istanbul.  The location was terrific, because we had no time to waste on getting back and forth.  We wanted to see it all in just two days.

We gaped with awe at the fabled “pleasure domes” of the harem of Topkapi and the lavishly decorated living quarters of generations of Turkish sultans. Our jaws dropped at the treasures accumulated by centuries of Ottoman rule, including the famed Topkapi dagger with three emeralds as big as my thumb, the Spoonmaker diamond as big as my fist and a coffee-table-sized chest covered with gold.  We admired the intricate tilework of the Blue Mosque and the engineering marvel of the Byzantine-era Basilica Cistern.  We were staggered at the immensity of the Aya Sofya, built first as  a cathedral of the Holy Roman Empire, by Justinian in 537 A.D., and only later converted to a mosque.  (It now serves as a museum.) 

The Grand Bazaar is a tribute to both the artistic and the entrepreneurial spirit of the Turkish people.  We could have spent much more than half a day wandering among the hundreds of stalls selling everything from glass lamps and woven carpets to handmade sweets and protection from the evil eye.  We managed to escape without buying a rug, but couldn’t resist a few souvenirs.

Our furious pace around the city was fueled by huge amounts of wonderful food:  breakfasts of fresh yogurt, figs and local cheeses; snacks of tea and pastries; meals of mezes  (appetizers of dizzying and delicious variety), fish, lamb and Turkish wine.  At the spectacular Giritli Restaurant, a modest two-story house popular with local folks, the set-price menu included no less than 17 appetizers (for two people!) and all the wine we could drink.  We lingered over our meal-of-a-lifetime for hours.

No description of our time in Istanbul would be complete without the tale of my visit to the hamam.  Believe me, if I lived in Istanbul, I would be a regular visitor to one of these Turkish baths, the precursors to modern spas.  The one we chose to visit was the Cemberlitas Hamam, not far from our hotel, which dates back to 1584 and has the arching domes, solid stonework and huge marble slabs to prove it.

For the price of about $25 I got to abandon all hope of modesty along with my clothes in the dressing room.  I was given a towel (which I discovered was to be used to lie on) and a new pair of underwear to cover the essentials.  Then a smiling older woman a head shorter than me (and about twice as wide) took me by the hand and led me to the large central room.  The big, echoing place was crowded with other women, all as naked as I was, lounging on the round marble slab that filled the center of the room.  My guide gestured at me to lie down (she spoke no English) and left me there to “cook”.

The room was hot, steamy—and relaxing.  The marble may have been unforgiving, but soon I didn’t care.  I melted.  Five hundred years of spa experience is not to be discounted.

Ah, but then my attendant returned.  She had a bucket with soapy water and a loofah, and she began to scrub me down from head to toe, as one might prepare a horse for the show ring.  All the while, she grinned at me and asked, “Good?”  But, oh, yes, it was!  I lost half my skin cells, but it was invigorating!  And when she was done, she doused me with cool water to rinse me off.  This was the cure for jet lag.

Once I was clean, I was allowed time in the hot pool, a hot tub big enough to swim laps in.  I was much too relaxed to be in the mood for exercise, however, so I went quickly on to my oil massage.  I paid extra for this part of the experience (the price was comparable to a massage here at home), but it was well worth it.  There is just nothing like having every muscle located, isolated and kneaded into submission in exotic surroundings.