Heaven hath no glory greater than visiting Istanbul a
second time once you've already checked all the obligatory tourist boxes and
run yourself ragged in that regard. This time, we were able to focus on
the food and experiences.
At breakfast, up on the rooftop terrace, we thought we
were watching another storm roll in. Thankfully, though, no rain ever
came down and the day prettied itself up right quick.
This time around, we were both walking past shopkeepers
and restaurateurs with respectful ease--so, we braved the Grand Bazaar again.
It was much more fun this time. We had thicker (and more tanned) skin and we
were able to let loose a bit. We actually bought a couple things (mostly
for others). The first time we visited the bazaars, we approached them
more like we were running a football down field, facing the defense, bracing
for tackles and dodging as best we could, trying to fight through to the end
zone.
When we'd lived in Spain and traveled Europe we'd so
loved doner kebab (spit roasted meat sandwiches) that this trip to Turkey was
something highly anticipated for us. To date, though, we'd only had dry
and frankly (mostly because it was so dry) unimpressive doner. We'd even
been told by Turks that the doner in Germany and the souvlaki in Greece were
better than the doner in Turkey. This was a bummer for us, but we decided
to keep trying.
We identified what the guidebook pegged as the "best
doner in Sultanahmet" at Sedef Iskender. I ordered my doner
"iskender" style--which means it was a wet, open-faced doner
sandwich. The bread was at the bottom of everything sopping up the juices
and covered in a red sauce. A hefty portion of yoghurt was served on the
side. Each bite, slathered in yoghurt and sopping wet, was a sloppy and
scintillating triumph. I also ordered a fresh fruit juice cocktail and
that was lovely and hopefully beneficial ultimately in trying to battle the
sickness I'd been dealing with for days prior.
We sauntered around after lunch, relishing our doner
fortune and the fact that there were no dictates in the form of an itinerary or
other pressures put upon us. We stopped in at Deraliye Ottoman Cuisine
and made a reservation for the following evening. We had wanted to try
one of these restaurants in Istanbul which had endeavored to learn to prepare
and serve the types of foods prepared and eaten during the time of the Ottoman
Empire. Deraliye was one the guidebook had pegged as a good 'un.
After we'd made a reservation with a nice gentleman whom
I came to presume was the owner--he invited us into the restaurant to rest and
have a Turkish coffee on the house. Without a thought, we agreed and saw
that this was a pretty fancy place and we got a feel for the quality of service
the restaurant provided.
After our coffees, we headed back to our hostel to drop
off our bazaar purchases. The hotel maids were in the process of making
up our room, though--so we decided to have an apple tea on the rooftop
terrace. It was a beautiful day and we were savoring it.
Our next venture out was to the Sulimaniye Hamami for a
Turkish bath. Uncle Nick had found this place that allowed couples to
enter and bathe together. It was off the east gate of the Sulimaniye
mosque and the hamam was in a building erected in the year 1550. It was
built by the renowned Armenian architect Sinan and sultans had bathed in the
same facility.
Upon walking in, they had us remove our shoes. We
were then provided things to wear (for me a towel to wrap around my business
and for Becca shorts, a towel, and a bikini style top). Once we'd changed
in our locked changing room they gave us clogs to wear and walked us into the
main area--heated to "really freaking hot" levels using oak wood
fires. There was a massive marble platform in the middle of the room that
was extra warm. There were also many fountains around the room with water
that (eventually) came out cool and pans to pour that water over your
head. The idea was to sweat out all the toxins before the next
steps. Right at the point where I was thinking about stepping out for
some cooler air (at this point I was pouring pan after pan of cool water over
my head), the masseurs entered the room.
They called us into a smaller room with two marble slabs
and they went to work on us. First they rinsed us off with pans of cool
water, then they went to town scrubbing (nearly) every inch of our skin with a
sort of pumice stone glove and rinsed us again, then they asked us to get on
the table before massaging our bodies and soaping us up until we were covered
in suds and rinsing as they went--back side, front side--there was even a
cranial massage in there somewhere. It was strangely incredible and relaxing.
Afterward, the masseurs gave us a firm handshake and sent us back into the main
room to cool off with more pans of water. Pan after pan and I couldn't
get cool. I literally didn't stop sweating until after midnight, and it
wasn't that hot outside (in terms of the weather).
Next, we were led into another room where we were given
dry towels to wrap ourselves in to hide or private parts. Once we did
that, there was a man there to dry us in a traditional fashion. He
wrapped us in additional towels like babes in swaddling clothes. Finally,
we were led into yet another room where rose-scented water was put on our
wrists and we were served beverages of our choosing--water and apple tea.
After changing back into our clothing, upon leaving, we
were given a mandarin eau de toilette for our hands and faces and a piece of
aromatic candy. In all, it was a wonderfully relaxing and pleasant
experience in nearly every way.
In so many ways, we'd felt like we'd been living it up
throughout this trip. Like royalty, perhaps, a sultan--eh?!? That's
really just a lame way to say we'd been living very well and we'd been very
lucky thus far.
We'd made a dinner reservation at Hadim Restoran, but we
were early. I'd read about a boat nearby that restaurant that allegedly
served the city's inhabitants' "best-loved street food"--Tarihi
Eminonu Balik Ekmek. It turned out there were three boats bouncing in the
water at the dock with grills burning hot and halved fish cooking. For 10
Turkish lira (~$3-ish) you got a big beautiful fish sandwich on a large hunk of
French bread with lettuce and onion on it. You could also buy pickled
veggies to add to it. Locals were swarming the boats and our smiles grew
wide. Finding a local "thing" where you are the only apparent
tourists and sharing in that with those locals when traveling... there's
nothing better. We just ordered one sandwich to share and Becca got the
pickled goods as well--we had a dinner reservation in 15 minutes, after all!
The sandwich was great for what it was (although,
again--it was dry; no sauce). It seemed like they literally just halved
the fish and threw each half on the grill. Many big bones and fins were
picked out of our mouths as we ate and grinned our way through the snack.
Our experience at Hadim was similar in the sense that
(aside from one other couple speaking English) everyone seemed local. This
restaurant had been founded by a street food vendor who quite literally had worked
his way up the food chain--from selling kebabs out of a cart on the corner near
the Galata bridge to now having a five-story restaurant with the top floor
overlooking the city. Since we'd made reservations, we had a seat on the
top floor with a three-point splendid vista of the Sulimaniye mosque, the
Ataturk bridge and the Galata Tower (and everything in between). As the
sun set, the sky did incredible things with the colors blue and orange.
After it had set, the city lit up in grand fashion against the blackish night
sky.
We ordered simple: a 20 centiliter bottle of raki,
yoghurt with eggplant, garlic, potatoes and peppers as a meze, and one lamb and
one chicken shish kebab. The food was perfect. I never thought I'd
look at a chicken the same I would a lamb--I've always found lamb to be a
higher and inherently more delicious level of meat. But, Becca was
unflinching in her opinion that, on this night, the chicken took the
prize. I thought that was pretty much accurate, to my own disbelief.
The tenderness and juiciness of the meats--but really the chicken above
all--made it the best I could recall tasting.
Throughout the meal, in different neighborhoods--first
Begoglou, then the bazaar district--fireworks burst up in the air above the
city.
It was apparent that those celebrating felt the same
about this day as we did.
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