Istanbul: mosques, Hitler-cats and where Cadbury went wrong

Atmospheric, magical, fascinating. One of the few transcontinental cities on the planet. Just two and a half weeks after I left Spain for good, I jetted off somewhat impulsively (as in I booked the flight four days in advance) to Istanbul, to visit a certain special someone for 12 days. All I can say is, thank goodness for last-minute decisions: it really was the trip of a lifetime. Everything was perfect: the company, the sweeping sea views, everything we saw, everywhere we went, the people, the food... I have no choice but to start with the food. Having had a rather nasty bout of travellers' sickness in Egypt last June after eating something dodgy, I did wonder whether my stomach would be able to handle whatever Turkey had in store for it. However, to my surprise, I tried and enjoyed almost everything that was offered to me (with the exception of pickle juice, which tasted like bile), and my digestive system didn’t complain once. Coming from a girl who used to kick up a fuss if dinner was anything other than chicken nuggets and chips and who relied on Burger King and Croque Monsieur, the glorified ham and cheese toastie, whilst on my year abroad in Spain, this may seem rather a shocking revelation. The food in Turkey was rich, full of flavour and very moreish, which served to plunge my post-Erasmus diet into oblivion, especially as my personal favourite delicacy was patatesli börek, which, as I couldn’t quite get my tongue around the Turkish, became lovingly known as ‘potato thing’. I also sampled and enjoyed dolma (rice-stuffed leaves), Turkish kebabs and one of the national sweets, baklava, a rich, sweet pastry filled with chopped nuts and sweetened with syrup. I liked the baklava so much that I brought a box of it back for my family to try, along with çay (Turkish tea) and, to my own surprise, a box of Turkish delight. I’d sworn off the things after trying one of the jelly-filled horrors masquerading as the famous sweet courtesy of Cadbury, but in fact, despite the fact that in Britain it is always the last chocolate left in the selection box, original Turkish delight is actually quite delicious. As we strolled through the Mısır Çarşısı (the Spice Bazaar), we were able to try many varieties of the sweet – and smell all the different flavours of tea, such as orange, apple, rose, love (?) which was such a treat. For a country so rich is history and culture, I feel Cadbury is guilty of severely underrating it due to its fraudulent and frightful jelly chocolate disguised under the pseudonym of the genuine Turkish delight. 

A cultural clash of East and West; ancient and modern, Istanbul truly is one of the most spellbinding cities in Europe. As the call to prayer sounds out from an ancient mosque in Ortaköy, the more contemporary Bosphorus Bridge fills the backdrop, accompanied by the distant drone of the constant traffic. Many of the mosques stand surrounded by huge skyscrapers. Civilians and tourists clothed in burkas mingle with those in jeans and t-shirts and no-one bats an eyelid. Although, note to self: wearing shorts in the old town of Sultanahmet amid a burka-clad majority = bad idea. Wearing particularly short shorts that ride persistently up to the top of your thigh = even worse idea. Despite the weird looks I received in abundance, the old town is beautiful with its parks and fountains providing a perfect foreground for the impressive Blue Mosque and its six minarets, almost always set against a cloudless blue sky in the summer. This stunning piece of architecture is an absolute must-see, especially as the entrance is completely free. Plus, if you are not clad in suitable mosque attire, the attendants dress you up so that you look strikingly similar to the Virgin Mary, which is good entertainment in itself. The old town also boasts the Aya Sofya (Hagia Sophia), now a museum although it has been both a mosque and a church in the past. It doesn’t look like much from the outside – in fact, the building looks very weathered – but the inside couldn’t be more different. The vast and beautifully decorated ceilings, the walls adorned with religious imagery, the low lighting provided by the chandeliers – all of it combines to create an astounding atmosphere. Topkapı Palace is another popular tourist attraction close by, of which the main must-see is a gigantic 86-carat diamond set in silver and surrounded by 49 smaller diamonds, originally found by a fisherman walking along the shore. Not realising its value at the time, and motivated by the belief that it was a particularly shiny piece of glass, he traded it to the first jeweller he encountered for three spoons (hence why the jewel is now known as the Spoonmaker’s Diamond). Only once it was cleaned and bought by a vizier on behalf of the Sultan at the time did its true worth become apparent.

Ortaköy Mosque

The Blue Mosque

Aya Sofya

Mosque attire

The only bad thing about Old Istanbul is the public transport – the metro buses and the trams are always packed full of people. Even though at some stops, the same metro bus arrives every one minute, your chances of managing to squeeze onto one are still fairly slim, especially if you don’t position yourself carefully. If the bus stops and the doors open directly in front of you, you’re in with a fighting chance. If not, better luck next time and try to avoid being trampled into the platform during the rush. On the other hand, is being squashed against a mass of sweaty bodies in 30°C heat worth it? For the equivalent of about 10 pence per tram ride, perhaps. What a bargain! 

Thinking about it, when I say there is only one bad thing about the old town, I actually mean one of two – unless peeing into a hole in the ground instead of an actual toilet is considered normal. While much of Istanbul has latched onto hi-tech devices (in some of the shopping centres, the toilets left me completely baffled – something about levers and plastic toilet seat covers), the mosques - where plastic covers and automatic flushes are replaced by sink-like contraptions with a hole and a jug of water - are being somewhat left behind in this respect. Despite being a bit of a culture shock at first, I discovered a questionable form of entertainment with these holes in the ground. Ladies: it’s called the aiming game and it’s about the most fun you’ll have with them. Otherwise, it’s all about leg ache from squatting, filthy floors and people washing their feet in the sinks. Beaut. 

Added to the tour of the old town, I was also treated to a ferry ride up the Bosphorus, dinner on the Golden Horn, traditional Turkish breakfast at the foot of a castle, a bottle of wine by candlelight on a rooftop terrace offering a stunning view of the city by night, a trip to one of the Prince’s Islands which we explored by bike (and where we almost got run down with alarming frequency by horse and carts) and a sea view every day, be it the Sea of Marmara, the Black Sea, the Bosphorus or the Golden Horn. The seaside town of Yeşilköy was my favourite – sitting on the rocks tracing the fossils of sea creatures from millions of years ago surrounded by a vast expanse of shimmering water and the rosy hue of the setting sun...there are no words. All in all, it was a magical experience which didn’t even feel real sometimes. Looking out to the glistening Sea of Marmara at a viewpoint in Topkapı Palace and then turning your head 180° to the left to find the Bosphorus stretch was quite surreal, as was being effectively in both Europe and Asia at the same time during the ferry trip. 

Rumelihisarı (Rumelian Castle)

Yeşilköy

We also went to the cinema one evening (to see the Hangover 2) where two things caught me by surprise, firstly that all films in Turkey are screened in the original language and secondly that viewers are given a ten-minute break halfway through the movie, which I think is genius! Especially if you’ve guzzled your Diet Coke or Slush Puppy within the first 15 minutes. Going back briefly to the language aspect, it isn’t just the cinema that places English higher on the priority list than the country’s own language. In the Aya Sofya, one of the information boards regarding a particular monument was just in English – Turkish didn’t even feature, not even underneath the English. And in Turkey, as in Spain, to be successful you have to master the English language. We really do take for granted how lucky we are in this country – we have it so easy and we almost expect people to be able to communicate with us in our own language. Eager not to fall into this category of people, I went about learning some Turkish as soon as I landed. Here is a comprehensive list of what I learnt:

Merhaba – hello
Lütfen – please
Teşekkürler – thank you
Bay – man
Bayan – woman
Baba – dad
Anne – mum
Evet – yes
Hayır – no
Çikiş – exit
Çok – very / too much
Ya siz? – And you?
Ağır – heavy
Iyiyim – I’m fine
Top – beach ball
Tramvay – tramway
Taşak – balls 

Apart from the usual ‘Hello, how are you’ dialogue, all I can really get out of that is “very heavy balls”, which I’m not entirely sure is a useful thing to know in a partially Muslim country. In the airport, my boyfriend and I were holding hands and I was leaning my head on his shoulder. Just as we both leant in to kiss, a Turkish guy about our age, no older than 25, started to kick up a fuss, saying that we couldn’t do that here. He seemed genuinely angry, which kind of shocked me as we hadn’t had any trouble since my arrival other than the odd person staring, and only in the last 15 minutes of the trip did anyone kick off. So anyway, the point is, I don’t think that going around starting conversations about testicles, heavy or not, would be a brilliant idea in a country that can’t cope with a couple sharing a quick kiss! The only other incident regarding a particular person that I found slightly disconcerting was when we had to go and collect a medical document. The receptionist read out the names of the people in the ‘queue’ i.e. a mass of people swarming around the desk, and handed out their reports accordingly. She then said “And these are the people who have a medical problem and need to make an appointment with the doctor” and proceeded to read out a list of names! And I thought the concept of privacy was lacking in Spain when the teachers put the exam results on a board in the corridor... I suppose in a city with a population of 10.4 million it is unlikely you will bump into anyone you know, but still. Potentially very awkward times. However, in general, the people of Istanbul were quite simply lovely. I was really touched by the kindness and hospitality of not only my boyfriend’s family (who went out of their way to make me feel at home, cooked for me and showered me with compliments) but anyone we encountered just out and about. They are always willing to help, whether it’s giving directions or helping others to park their cars in a tight spot by letting them know how much space they have between their car and the next. 

If you were to add the number of cats into the population of Istanbul, it would probably rise to about 10.4 billion. They are absolutely everywhere, and range from new-born kittens to fully grown cats. They are very tame and love getting attention – as soon as you start stroking one, within minutes you are surrounded and in danger of unintentionally establishing your own cattery. We did feel sorry for one particular cat though, whose fur was decorated with an unfortunately-placed black spot under its nose, making it look as though Adolf Hitler had been reincarnated. 

So now, having spent the year in Spain within which I travelled to Granada, Marrakech, Cordoba, Ibiza, Toledo and Istanbul, and having just flown back to England over snow-capped mountains and tropical islands framed by crystal clear waters, I realise: I’ve got the travel bug. Look out world...