Istanbul is a city where opera is played while cleaning the house. No one talks about the latest episode of shows XYZ on TV because life is simply dramatic enough. Social engagements are the entertainment of choice, and cars defiantly and I mean defiantly! have the right of way.
The relatively pleasant weather we had in the first week I arrived has been replaced by the more typical cloud and gloom of winter. Not that I am complaining given how people have been suffering with the cold back home. After all it is raining here and unless your house is being washed away from the rain the average Manitobian isn’t likely to give you any sympathy for having some rainy weather in January.
Istanbul is a city of little shops. There are shops for lamps, and shops for juice, and shops for vegetables, and shops for pastries, shops for dried goods, shops for bread and shops for chicken sandwiches. The concept of “Super store” is not one that has caught on here. You shop daily not weekly, and the panhandlers here 9 times out of 10 tend to be stray cats. Which you inevitability end up sharing your daily shopping with.
At home the Mani/Pedi is the girl thing to do to treat yourself. Here it is the Hamam. A giant stone steam room that is more often than not, older than my entire country (unless you are going to a hotel) and personally I am having a hard time deciding what I like best. Doing a Mani/Pedi gives you some flash to show off after, but a steam room with no time limit where you are scrubbed down and massaged with soap has its perks too.
My girls day in Istanbul consisted of a walk to the Hamam during which I was fed sweets for a pastry shop that you would imagine to be sitting in the streets of Paris, not necessarily Istanbul. As common as they are here it’s not usually what the city is known for but a nice surprise for any exploring tourist. The afternoon contained chatter and gossip in three different languages, and all in all lounging about on heated marble soaking up steam and for me shedding my Manitoba winter skin…. I’m sure the attendant was quite appalled but there is simply nothing that cures dry skin like a hamam.
Now those of you back home who know I have worked for a prominent hotel in my home city that boasted a Hamam will ask “So how did it compare?” Well first off there is no questions. Our local Hamam is better hands down and end of story. From the basic treatment on up better better better. This being said you compare it to the basic mani/pedi you get from “the little shop you know” to one you would get in an actual spa. In general you get what you pay for. If you have your mani/pedi at a hotel spa you may expect snacks tea, access to lounging areas, and drinks and food you can order. If you have it as your monthly or weekly treat you’re looking for something that isn’t going to set you back $130 for a mani/pedi you’re looking at something that costs $30 and that’s about what I paid here. Mind you I went to a local one where I was the only white person, I’ve heard the tourist ones have better décor and will also set you back a bit more for the same sort of service. For 40 TL or $25.50 Canadian I got the a service that costs minimum $85 plus tax plus grat at a hotel back home. So I can do with out the tea, snacks, fancy robes and metal water bowls. After flying a quarter of the way around the world, and sleeping in an unfamiliar bed for a week it’s the best money I’ve spent so far and I feel all the better for it.
After steaming for hours the first thing to do once getting out of the hot and airy bath is to locate food. Some local pitas stuffed with cheese and herbs and lamb and tomato sauce with spices. Was what we used to get our energy back up after having it steamed out of us. The walk back included additional snacking of fried mussels.
Istanbul is a big city it’s some times easy to convince yourself, on a narrow back street, that there really aren’t “that many” people in the area. Oh yes you’ll find yourself admitting it’s busier than the typical Canadian city but nothing like those awful stories you hear of people panicking and getting all claustrophobic about…. Then you find yourself walking in taksim square in rush hour. The only time I have witnessed so many people is on Canada day in Ottawa. You are swept along with the wave of them hopefully in the general direction of where you want to go.
Thankfully however there is never a need to panic in Istanbul. A quick tug in the direction of an ally will get you out of the main press of people another tug down the stairs from my guide puts us in a musty old books shop with no more people than in the average chapters. And a wave to one of the shop keepers in a separate room has us sitting alone with the owner of that section of the shop with out a person in sight and in silence with the exception of a healthy academic debate between Suzan and the shop keeper.If you need to step away from the crowd to catch your breath Istanbul always seems willing to accommodate.
Another thing I find intriguing about the city is its delivery culture. From Milk, to Burger King, you can have just about anything you can imagine, and more than a few things you can’t dropped right at your feet, for little to no additional charge. Sure enough in the back of the little book store tea promptly and magically appears on a little serving tray hauled precariously by one of the street vendors. Where the cups are set up with two lumps of sugar the tea is handed to you (in an actual glass with a real spoon which he comes back to collect from the store at some later point. Eco friendly and pleasing to the eye) and then the tray and delivery boy whisk themselves away and you are left to a tea party at any time in any location your heart should ever dream to think of having tea. I am waiting to see one of these “tea men” spidermanning it down the side of a building to serve the window washer. While I have not witnessed it yet it wouldn’t faze me in the least if I did.
After tea and book shopping we arrive back at our apartment in the dark of night to close the book on a thoroughly well done day in Istanbul.
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