Visible Breath in Istanbul

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Yes, Istanbul was cold, but at least it was dry (I had to come back to Abu Dhabi to experience the joy of wading. I should count my blessings, however, that there are no crusts of ice to slip on here, and I do). That was the theme of my holiday: shivering. And wondering each morning if I had enough clean clothing left to create the multi-layered effect needed to avoid death by exposure. There was an advantage however: very few other tourists were intrepid (foolish) enough to brave Turkey in the dead of winter, so access to the monuments, ferries, and hotels was a breeze (an ICY breeze). There were no thick masses of backpacked, be-sandaled Americans or Europeans fighting to gawk at the jeweled turban pins of the sultans in the Topkapi Palace Treasury. However, there was no shortage of competition for space on the sidewalks, on Galeta Bridge, or in the Grand Bazaar, as Turks, on masse, were out pressing forth (and More! on the tram, which I cleverly dubbed '"The Sardine Can." My experiences on the tram are another article in itself. Suffice to say, I did escape with my goods in tact, but not much else.)

Well, I saw it all. Not all, actually, but as much as I could stand in 10 days. I visited all the best sites: Topkapi Palace; the Blue Mosque; the Aya Sophia Museum (a magnificent building: originally a Byzantine church, then a mosque after the Ottoman conquest, finally a museum, by decree of Ataturk); the Galeta Tower (a climb rivaling San Francisco's most forbidding hills: great view); the Grand Covered Bazaar and the Spice Bazaar. I also took a ferry ride across the Sea of Marmara to the old capital city of Bursa, which is a charming place. I was so buoyed up by this trip, in a HEATED ferribot (that's Turkish for "ferry boat"), that the next day l took a boat tour of the Bosphorus, which ended at a diminutive fishing town at the opening to the Black Sea, guarded over loomingly by a 400 year old Genoan fortress (which was on the top of a mountain. The view was gorgeous).

l ate fish sandwiches off carts at quayside in Eminonu; kebap (a lot like shawarma) sliced off a huge rotisserie from a train station cafe; tangerines from the Spice Bazaar; ubiquitous, big, circular, sesame-covered, delicious, pretzel-like bready things off more sidewalk carts at the Grand Bazaar; and, oh yes, Turkish Delight. All in all, it was a bracing holiday, testing the limits of my tolerance for cold, but, well, cool.

january 1993

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