Istanbul, Turkey, June 18, 2007

On our last day in Istanbul we would try to see several things that we had been unable to get to previously. First we went to the famous Blue Mosque, supposedly the only mosque in the world with six minarets. There is a special visitors' entrance, where everyone removes their shoes, and those dressed in shorts or sleeveless shirts are provided with a cover-up. The mosque is immense, with columns that must have been 20 feet in diameter. There are no paintings or statues in mosques, but the tiles, plasterwork, and stonework in Arabic caligraphy are used to decorate the interior.

By the way, there is a mosque on almost every corner, each with its muezin who calls the faithful to prayer 5 times a day. They wake you up at daybreak, before sunrise, several times during the day, and then at dark. Occasionally, one will start to call out, and another down the street will answer with a similar refrain. Sort of “duelling muezins.” These mosques are not insignificant edifices; they are substantial buildings with one, two, or 4 minerets, lavishly decorated, even with gold leaf in some cases. On practically every block!

Next we wanted to go to the major palace that pashas and government leaders through Ataturk lived in. The tour guide (uh... who would that be?) failed to remember that most such public buildings are closed on Mondays, so our trip out there was a waste of time.

Our next stop was the Egyptian Spice Market. En route we were waylaid by a baklava shop, where we decided to stop and have a snack and use the bathroom. We sat in a cafe upstairs overlooking the street, and while we shared a rice pudding (not as good as Abuela Belina's) we contemplated all the Islamic women passing by, covered up to varying degrees. Some wear all black and show nothing but nose and eyes. Others only wear a head scarf and modest clothing. A large number wear the head covering, and also wear an overcoat on top of their modest clothing. In 35-degree heat, it's hard to imagine how they stand it.

By the way, these are not only married women, but unmarried as well. Ironically, young women dressed in scarves and long sleeves walk with their boyfriends hand in hand, occasionally smooching and hugging. Ipods hang from many necks; one wonders what they are listening to. According to our Jewish friends, this is a new phenomenon.

We then entered the Spice Market. The first section, outdoors, was like 20 miniature Home Depot garden sections. Plants and seeds were for sale, along with manure, fertilizer, and flowers. Each booth was only about 10 feet by 20 feet, so it shouldn't be hard to imagine how packed they were.

Inside the covered market, the spice vendors, side by side, were selling every type of herb and spice, along with dried fruits, nuts, teas, and confections. The spices and teas were piled in high pyramids in the bins, and the colors were enchanting. They offered the finest Iranian saffron or if you wanted the inferior Turkish lineage, that was also available. There was paprika of various types, whole or ground coriander and cumin. “Come smell our teas.” “Take home some spices.”

One of the most impressive displays was the variety of huge blocks of hard jellies (similar to dulce de guayaba) made of fig, apricot, plums, and who knows what else, many of them with embedded pistachios or other delicious surprises. These were blocks the size of a 10-gallon paint can, from which the merchant would slice off portions for sale by the kilo. Most vendors also had dried fruits stuffed with nuts. One particular variety was figs stuffed with walnuts, which was labeled with some variety of the nomenclature, “Turkish Viagra.”

We could barely tear ourselves away, but we wanted to find a restaurant for lunch. It turns out that the restaurant we chose had no rest room. When we asked they were apologetic, but there were no facilities. A minute or two later, the son of the owner came to our table and signaled for Rosi to follow him. He led her down the block to another building and ushered her to the rest room in that establishment. Then he escorted her back to the restaurant.

My intent was to walk the length of Uzunçarsi Caddesi (Longmarket Street) to take in the many shops and the hustle and bustle of business in this genuine market district. We walked past shops that were what you might expect: hardware (this one sells plumbing supplies, and that one sells electrical), housewares, clothing stores, book stores, shoe stores, small groceries and cafes with 2 tables (selling döner for 2 YTL) – most of the shopkeepers standing in front of their stores. But there were also the specialty shops: stores that sell only buttons, those that sell only buckles, only wrapping paper, guns, labels, beads, knives, girdles.

Men pushing or pulling huge loads on carts or on handtrucks, up or down the hills, raced through the streets. Occasionally, when the carrier was having trouble making it up an incline, a storekeeper might step out to help by pushing. And the delivery trucks squeeze between the walkers and the carriers and the handcarts full of fruits or merchandise – all in a street that might be a total of 10 feet wide or less. The market area seemed to be never-ending. When you think you are coming out of the tangle of narrow streets, you enter a labyrinth of 4 more intersecting streets. It borders on overwhelming.

During our walk through Market Street, we detoured to see the Rüstem Pasha Mosque, not usually visited by strangers, up a nearly hidden staircase. This mosque is known for its beautiful tilework all over the outside of the building as well as inside.

We came out of the bustling market district straight into the Istanbul equivalent of Rodeo Drive or the Champs Elysee. Along a broad pedestrian mall, seriously Upscale shops on both sides sell all manner of expensive products, but mostly carpets and expensive jewelry. On the way back to the hotel, we sat in the park, next to a fountain for a long time, resting. We had walked about 5 miles by this time.

Back at the hotel, we chatted with the proprietor, learning a little about the Turkish culture. (He is Moroccan, married to a Turk.) During our chat, some friends of his showed up with a flat of organic cherries, which he shared with us. For breakfast the last two days, he has had organic butter and eggs. Breakfast here has been outstanding. We had yogurt with tahini and raisin syrup, hard boiled eggs, cheeses, dried fruits, bread and butter and jam, coffee, and a variety of juices.

At seven we called a taxi (taksi) to take us to the train station. We were to board the 8:00 train to travel overnight to Thessaloniki, in Greece. When we got there we learned that there was no dining car, so we rushed out and picked up a “take-away” dinner of lentil soup and döner with veggies in flat bread. We were back on the train in time and ate our repast while we were headed towards Greece.

I stayed up to write blog postings, but the girls tried to sleep. At 12:30 we were waked up for Turkish passport check at the international frontier. Then 20 minutes later, the Turkish customs agent came through. (Ours was the only compartment not inspected.) Then we left the station at about 1:15. At about 1:30 we stopped on the Greek side of the border and went through Greek passport check and customs as well. In both cases, everyone had to wake up to identify him/herself. We were finally off at about 1:45, all of us trying to get to sleep.