The Canaways Abroad: Love in a mist

As a rule, I don’t expect much of cities. Previous experience has been that large gatherings of humanity result in noisy, dirty, impersonal, bland piles of cement without much soul, and people who are detached from nature and with a limited sense of community. Istanbul seems to disprove that.

The noise and dirt are certainly here – unfortunately we had to wade through a lot of it when hit by a heavy deluge last night that caused the cobbled roads to become flowing streams of detritus – but each street, area and district has a strong village feel, and the lack of government uber-control that results in potholed roads, dodgy building practices and a suspect sewerage system also means that people muck in and organize their own parking bollards (flower pots on the street outside their homes), meals on wheels (chai- and food-wallahs who race around delivering tea and meals at various shops and offices to order), and road rules (there is a fairly heavy police presence – all armed – but you have to park on a tram line to get attention; we saw someone who did and their car was towed. In other places we saw whole streets blocked off to through traffic by vehicles using them as car parks).

Yes, these cars are parked here like this.

Friendliness also seems to be a national trait more than in some places, too, which helps. Sure, the touts are there to get their commission by delivering you to certain shops where, despite the promise of ‘no obligation to buy’ you will be plagued for at least half an hour by a sales spiel that makes all but the most hard-hearted feel awful about not buying anything. But it is done with wonderfully good, gentle grace – we’ve had some fascinating conversations with many touts, who are mostly very smart, multilingual experts at their dark art; within seconds of hearing John and I speak, Kris and Ali outside the Blue Mosque had already picked up that I had a different accent to John – a fact that often escapes native English-speaking Australians. And the shopkeepers, who order their lackeys around to get this carpet or that as they try to find a pattern, size and style to tempt your purse

strings, also have an elegant style and show a genuine interest as they serve tea and dispense with the Introductory Conversation that must precede any sales pitch. It probably says a lot about dear John that he can quite happily chat and sit through these sessions then walk out with a smile but not a shred of guilt for not buying anything. He tells them on entry he’s not going to buy anything, but I think they see that as a challenge.

I’ve fallen in love with the gorgeous little tulip-shaped tea (Cayi) glasses that the strong black tea or apple cayi is served in, and I’m fascinated by the range of teas you see in instant-powder form or a dried leaves and flowers in the spice market. Visually, they are stunning, but all are served so strong they leave a thick layer of tannin on your teeth and curdle your stomach. Made a bit weaker here at the hotel, they’re much more refreshing.

There's a spring tulip festival on, so turkey's native blooms are everywhere.

So we’ve done the tourist bit here in Istanbul: seen a zillion marvelous mosques and minarets; been amazed at the antiquity of the ubiquitous piles of limestone and granite, from the thick, Byzantine-era city walls so rudely cut down to make way for the rail line, to the brilliantly engineered Galata Tower, whose walls are 3.75m thick at the base and taper up to 20cm at the top; got lost in the carpets, silver, gold and leather of the Grand Bazaar and almost crushed to death in the spice bazaar where the huge piles of saffron are worth hundreds of dollars and even John was tempted to buy dry fruit, fresh nuts and beautiful baklava. We also caught a (clean, modern, brilliantly run) tram over the Golden Horn waterway and contemplated catching a $2 ferry to make the 1.5-hour trip to the Princes Islands (a popular holiday destination for Istanbulites) but instead rode the funicular rail up to Taksim Square, where we drank Turkish coffee (our first) overlooking the Bosphorus in Taksim Park (and saw a bit of Brunswick culture transported in the form of a knit-bombed tree), then walked the main shopping strip of Istiklal Caddesi with all its international brand stores and explored more back alleys and mini shopping strips (the equivalent of walking off Collins Street or Knightbridge, but within metres the big-chain stores and expensive restaurants had been replaced by fresh food stalls, complete with chicken pecking around our feet) .

After a gorgeous day on Friday, it started raining just as we reached the top of the Galata Tower, from where you can (on a fine day) see so much of Istanbul. It didn’t stop raining until late last night, by which time we’d been comprehensively drenched several times (we took refuge in the spice bazaar for a while, then sat on a Bosphorus cruise boat for 1.5 hours).

By the time we’d walked for half an hour on our way home we were so wet we’d hit hysteria point – along with many locals – and it reached the point where everyone you met just saw how wet you were, laughed, shook their heads and gave you a big smile/wave. One kind soul even gave us his umbrella – it was old and broken but it was the only one he had.

On the way home we walked through the dressmaking section of town – all the businesses flock together, like the old guild system in London – but even the rain couldn’t stop the (mostly women) shoppers from seeking out the perfect bit of fabric or wedding dress. Watching people cross the flowing rivers of stormwater became a spectator sport and all the shopkeepers were out watching, cheering on one tea-wallah when he nearly got taken out by a rogue umbrella.

But the highlight has definitely been the Hagia Sofia.

Interior of Hagia Sofia.

It was reading about the place years ago that made me first want to visit Istanbul and it’s on so many bucket lists that I was sure I’d be disappointed in the real thing. But, like Ayers Rock, despite seeing so many pictures in the past, the sheer scale and magnificence of it just took my breath away and left me speechless. Well for a minute or so, anyway.

By any standard the place is huge – several storeys and each with towering windows and archways – but to think of this standard of architecture and engineering being attempted with minimal specialty tools or infrastructure back in the 4^th and 5^th centuries is simply mind-boggling.

That combined with its historical importance and the sights, people and events – whole eras and empires – it has witnessed and outlived just make visiting it an overwhelming experience. Plus it’s visually stunning, with gold mosaics dating back centuries, and the marble floors so worn you can only imagine how many feet have walked that way in equal awe and worship over the millennia.

If we’d only seen that, our trip to Istanbul would have been worth it. But we’ve taken in so many more wonderful sights that it’s sad to be leaving for the Gallipoli peninsula today on the start of our trip south. We’ll enjoy one more wonderful breakfast on the terrace upstairs then head off to the bus stop for the 5-hour trip to Eceabat, where I hope we’ll stay tonight.

Until next time, take care xxx