ISTANBUL UNLOCKING THE SECRETS OF ITS ALLURE
Philani Nombembe finds out first-hand why the Turkish capital is still one of world’s most popular destinations
For years, I have wondered why Istanbul gets such rave reviews. It has more than its fair share of architectural wonders, and historical heft. But then, so do London, Rome and Cairo. But as I make a stopover in the lively Turkish tourist magnet, I ponder this as I gaze at the post card friendly Bosphorus, which stretches interminably below my hotel room. Cruise liners dot the waterway like ducks disappearing into the picturesque sunset. Supplementing this scenic view, the Blue Mosque shimmers in the distance, with the banal expanse of suburban Besiktas lying flat and dull in the foreground.
A READY SMILE
Still, no immediate evidence of the allure of a city about which much has been written in glowing, effusive terms.
That is before I meet the people.
Just as the remnants of my enthusiasm are waning in concert with the daylight hours, comes a sunset salvation, in the form of a waiter who is as friendly as his name is unpronounceable.
At the local restaurant where he works — the Hakan Pastanesi — we hit it off. All it takes is a few mangled English words, a ready smile and much nodding. Oh, and an English menu for hungry, non-Turkish speakers like me. Somehow, the spelling error-riddled menu adds to the charm of the place.
THE BIG JOY OF SMALL GESTURES
I am drawn back to this restaurant often during my four-day stay in Besiktas, for lunch and supper. On the last day, I order a meal and freshly squeezed fruit juice, and I inform my first and only Turkish friend that I want a takeaway. He bobs knowingly. Unbeknownst to me, the fresh juice containers don’t have lids (a situation which would have necessitated an order makeover in my home town), but this waiter wouldn’t dream of putting me on the spot. He simply washes a used water bottle and pours the juice inside.
It is a small gesture, but it has something of an old-world courtesy about it, which
makes it as sweet as granadilla juice.
Speaking of tradition, if there’s one place you’d expect to find a surplus of the stuff, it would have to be a Turkish bazaar.
The bustling Grand Bazaar — which boasts about 4,000 shops sprawled across 16 humming streets — is a multicultural microcosm, and an endearing hybrid of showy glass-and-steel retail and the loud, bargaindriven souks of the Far East. But, more importantly, it is the place where I learn a number of vital lessons — from etiquette to negotiation.
HOW TO GET THINGS CHEAPER
Istanbul’s streets are more havens of oldworld charm. Imagine waiters lining the streets of Sandton, the V&A Waterfront or Century City, touting for some of the country’s top restaurants.
However, every visit to another country is tempered by reality, which usually arrives with its merciless handmaiden: money.
One of the first things I notice is how the prices of basic things, such as coffee, are easily and unashamedly inflated in the “high tourist zones” of the city.
A colleague and I buy one kebab wrap and two cups of coffee at a hole-in-the-wall in the Grand Bazaar. These items have rocketed to an appetite-suppressing 80 Turkish lira (about R210, including mandatory 15% tip). We order the same items later that afternoon at a restaurant about 1km from the bazaar for less than 50 lira.
More reality checks are in store, although these are not an assault on my wallet, but rather an enrichment of my world view.
Having stumbled upon a less-recognised area, I realise almost at once that I have stepped back in time.
Crude graffiti and ruthless creepers belie an ancient infrastructure and timeless street coffee-shop culture, otherwise known as
Balat, a traditional Jewish quarter in the Fatih district of Istanbul. The place is run down — which is putting it kindly — but there is no denying the deeply rooted sense of community which transcends creed and culture. It’s as typically Turkish as the hordes of well-fed cats and dogs roaming the streets (the excellent Ceyda Torun-directed documentary, Kedi, captures this aspect of Istanbul).
The sleepy image of Balat is coloured by the unexpected appearance of umbrella-covered streets, creating a vibrant canopy that blends with the colourful homes. The Bo-Kaap springs to mind.
Because of its obscurity, the town offers a very tranquil respite from the frenetic city centre.
Nombembe was a guest of Turkish Airlines