GETTING LOST IN ISTANBUL

HERE’S A VALUABLE PIECE OF ADVICE: IF YOU ARE GOING TO WALK AROUND IN A CITY UNKNOWN TO YOU WHERE YOU DON’T KNOW THE LANGUAGE: GET A PROPER MAP!

THE ONES THAT COME FOR FREE LACK DETAILS LIKE, FOR EXAMPLE, UP AND DOWN INCLINATION...

Sunday, May 25^th, 2008

The men were picked up in to morning to give their conferences at the Bogaziçi University’s Güney Campus - about 30 minutes from the Golden Horn going up the Bosporus. Adrienne and I set two goals for our day: the ancient Cagualogulo Hamami (baths) and the Süleymananiye Camii (Mosque of Suleyman the Magnificient), which towers above the meeting point of the Marmara Sea and the Golden Horn. Armed with free maps from the hotel we set out and immediately got lost. Problem was that the terrain involved a great deal of slopes, so we went down steep (deserted) alleys - most shops closed due to Sunday - only to find we had to climb others. 

Eventually we reached the 300+ year old baths, (said to have been enjoyed by Florence Nightingale and Cameron Diaz...), a little concerned about procedure: Drop all the clothes, or use, as the guidebook suggested, “replacement knickers”? After selecting the 35 Euro Ottoman treatment and enquiring whether we would have women masseuses (answer: “In the ladies section, only ladies”), we were shown into a dim room with a central fountain surrounded by old wooden cubicles. Short plump Turkish bath assistants grabbed us by the arm and gestured for us to remove our shoes, put on some wobbly wooden sandals, and gave us a cover up. 

Having left everything behind in our cubicle (including, alas, glasses) we were again led by the arm to a high marbled steam room and told to sit and wait. In the centre naked women were stretched out on a circular grey marble slab lit by daylight coming through an opening in the domed ceiling, and the sound of dripping and slashing water was everywhere. We sat lazily in the steam taking in the scene: stocky dark-haired Turkish women in worn bathing suits massaging what looked like northern European women. (When Adrienne worried about being able to recognize our masseuse I suggested she look for the one that looked like a prison guard at the Gulag). After the massage front and back, the client was led to sit on the floor near a marble sink, where the masseuse shampooed the her hair and then drenched her with basin after basin of (as it turned out) increasingly cold water. When it was our turn we turned ourselves willingly over to ‘the prison guard” and Tanya, my masseuse, who set to rubbing us fiercely with rough gloves before massaging with a creamy soap and slashing warm water over our recumbent bodies. When we were done (and could move again - I needed a lot of water to get going, I had been so relaxed), we felt tingly fresh and utterly CLEAN.

We then plotted a foolproof route to the mosque - or so we thought. At the bottom of the hill we got lost again. Why is it that this always happens when one has to go uphill??? Eventually we did find the mosque and sat in the shade enjoying a selection of fresh fruit bought from a stall and washed with our water bottles, before going in. Disappointment was in store: after the whole thing about covering our heads and removing our shoes, it turned out the mosque was in the middle of renovation and only a very small and narrow area was visible. Interesting, however, was Suleyman’s tomb, as well of that of his wife. In the cemetery area we mingled with every type of hijab dress code, from headscarves to full black chador. Many women wear long khaki colored fitted coats to the ground with headscarves in muted colors, others wear looser long pastel-colored coats with very bright and silky scarves. Others again seems to wear a little hat on the top of their skull, which gives the head an elongated profile when wrapped in the silk scarf.

It was getting late and after pushing our way through the most crowded alleys I have seen in my life (backpack worn in front Rio-style), we grabbed a taxi, which whisked us back to the 21st century, driving at full speed through modern suburbs to the university campus, where we saw the end of Oswaldo’s session, chatted with the faculty and staff present, and were installed in faculty quarters on the beautiful leafy campus overlooking the Bosporus. We finished the evening at a waterside restaurant sampling Turkish mezze, small flavorful dishes, mostly vegetarian, excellent Turkish white wine and a selection of desserts. http://www.flickr.com/photos/siric/sets/72157631337488394/