First Night in Istanbul

September 7, 2010 Cont'd

Once I had finished writing on the airplane, Joshua gave me a task: he handed me the Turkey Lonely Planet, and then he said, "look up all the Dangers and Annoyances." I complied.

It's no news that Lonely Planet is The Most Fabulous Travel Guide Book On Earth, but just in case the jury is still out (it isn't), our friends over at the LP Office consolidate all your pre-travel worries into a nice little heading entitled, 'Dangers and Annoyances.' You can find this heading for Turkey as a whole (in the Index), as well as each individual region.

Research says, Turkey's safe. Basically. There are your occasional tour scams, bar scams, and bus scams (more on that later), and the Turks are notoriously horrific drivers and not big on safety precautions like fences, railings, or 'Wet Floor' signs, but otherwise, it's pretty much like traveling in any other European country. With a little bit of common sense and a healthy amount of skepticism, we'll be fine. The only thing I do have to keep a lid on is my government bad-mouthing. Apparently, that's a crime here, and to speak badly of Turkey or its government can get you thrown in the slammer (no place you want to visit, says LP).

After I had debriefed Joshua (don't go to bars with strange boys or girls, don't cross the street without looking twice, and don't get snarky about politics), he shared some of his initial thoughts and observations. Namely, how amazed he was by the airline passengers' total and complete disregard of rules. No one had waited after take off to get up out their seats, unbuckle their belts, or go potty. They hadn't even waited for the airflight attendants to start walking! As we spoke, men were facing backwards, draped over their seats and having conversations with people three or four (or ten) rows back. People were laughing loudly, and in general, it felt a lot more like a family picnic than a flight. The man in front of us kept peering over the seats at us, clearly desperate to begin a conversation, but his limited English prevented any such exchange; we just shared big, goofy smiles instead. 'I'm just waiting for someone to light up,' Joshua summarized in the end, referring to both the rule-bending nature of our co-passengers and the Turk's notoriety when it comes to smoking (LP says that a traditional Turkish joke is, 'who smokes more than a Turk? Two Turks!).

The flight from London to Istanbul was pretty short. We arrived within four hours, and at the Sabiha Goken Airport, we followed the signs to first Visa Control (were we paid the equivalent of 20 dollars each for visas), and then Immigration. The line was ridiculously long, and as we waited, we listened the Turkish conversations going on around us. Is it just me, or does the language make the speaker sound just a little bit angry all the time?

Through immigration, we picked up our packs on the carousel (thank you, airline angels), and wandered in the direction of the airport shuttle to Taksim Square. Stuffing our packs into the luggage compartment underneath, we boarded the bus and took our seats. As we drove into the city (about an hour long journey), we stared out the window, wide-eyed and looked at each other every other minute saying, 'can you believe we're in Turkey?!'

The couple in front of us were pretty obviously tourists as well, and chatty Joshua struck up a conversation with the woman (the man appeared somewhat... Reticent.). The two of them were from New Zealand, and they had bought their tickets from London to Istanbul that morning. They hadn't much time to plan at all, but so far, they were hoping to take three weeks to make their way from Istanbul back to London. Along the way, they wanted to see Greece and Croatia, but otherwise, they were ready to go wherever fate took them. She asked us about our upcoming travels, and when she found out that we were going to India next, she told us that she had been backpacking in India for three months (out of a 10 month-long trip), and she had loved it, which was good news because we're taking pretty much the same route she had done.

In Taksim, we all got off the bus and loaded on our packs. Using the map in LP as a guide, we navigated our way across the square and then found the main street through the modern district. Our hostel was the fifth right down, and on our way, we stared at everything new, foreign, and all lit up. Although it was already nearly 9 PM on a Tuesday night, the place was in the midst of a party. People were eating, drinking, shopping, dancing, and walking all over. There were so many neon signs advertising tours, sales, tattoos, etc., that we felt dizzy with sensory overload by the time we reached SoHo Hostel.

Naturally, SoHo Hostel sits directly between two very large, very HAPPENING discotecas. Sweet. We checked in, chatted with the owner (who had spent 10 years in the U.S. and LOVED Texas), and walked up very windy, narrow, and steep flights of stairs to stow our bags and change. Unfortunately, the hostel was over-booked, so Joshua and I had to split up: he was in a 4 person mixed dorm with 3 Spanish girls, and I had a 6 person all girls dorm with 5 messy girls (of unknown origins).

In new clothes (and with our valuables on our backs) we set off in search of a good meal. This shouldn't be very hard in Turkey - and it isn't - but LP recommended a specific Meyhane (Turkish Tavern), Sofyali, and by god, we were going to find it. (We'll walk anywhere for some good grub.)

Fortunately, less than a mile later, we had found our Meyhane of choice. Sitting outside on a slightly rickety table surrounded by other slightly rickety tables from our tavern and others, we watched as tourists and Turks - dressed to the nines and otherwise - strutted by. Turkey may be mostly Muslim, but don't let this fool you: many women dress like they're already on the beach, and there appears to be no shortage of alcohol.

Also, there was meat on the menu. And I'm just going to be up-front here: I'm a fairweather vegetarian, and I consider Turkey the perfect storm of roasted lamb, chicken, and what-else-have-you served up to tempt even the most stalwart of veggies - which, we have already established, I am not. I ordered the roasted lamb and veggies. Joshua ordered the sea bass wrapped in chard.

To begin, the waiter brought an enormous tray of starters, and selecting purely on the basis of color and texture, we chose two. One was some sort of spiced cheese which we then smeared on fresh baguette, and the other was stuffed bell pepper. When the meal came, we were not disappointed: although the rough translations on the menu had seemed a bit spartan, the actual dishes in front of us were colorful and lovely: sea bass wrapped in chard looks like stuffed grape leaves, and on the side, there was a cheesy-potato dish that had been baked until golden brown. For me, the roasted lamb came in its own little casserole dish, and on top, tomatoes and peppers were coated with a toasted layer of cheese. It was delicious, and we ate every last bite, switching plates half-way through so that we could have half of each entree. We closed our eyes and grunted inappropriately the whole time; we couldn't help ourselves. It was that good.

Just as we were about to leave, a man walked by with a brightly painted box and two white rabbits on top. He asked us if we would like to see some 'bunny trickery,' but we politely declined. Another man wheeled a deep cart by with an open flame on one side, and popcorn spilling over the edges. Over the flame, he was shaking a closed metal container, and the corn inside was popping loudly. He asked us if we would like some dessert, and when we refused, he moved on to the next table.

As we were walking away, the 'bunny trickery' man had found his mark: two blonde tourists who were now holding white bunnies in their hands, looking at the man with a distinct expression of alarm. What comes next?

Before we made it back to SoHo Hostel, we stopped for some Turkish Delights. The candy store had a wide selection of every brightly colored confection available, and we ordered 10 pieces of 10 different kinds. Don't ask me what they were called; I have no idea. As we walked, we ate them one by one. They won over Joshua, but I am not a fan. It tasted like marshmellow taffy with a coating of pistachios or jelly on the outside.

Back at SoHo, we said goodnight and parted ways. In my room, two of the messy girls were already sleeping, but through the window, the sounds of the discoteca were pouring in. I'm pretty sure the walls and the beds were shaking from the beat. Through the night, I recall being awake much more than not, and I was bitten by a hundred mosquitoes. The loud, loud music did not stop until it was almost getting light, and by the time my alarm went off, my tonsils felt like hockey pucks in the back of my throat. Hockey pucks that are very, very sore.