Getting to know Galata and other places too.....

Sometimes it's all abut the view or How is Istanbul like Vancouver?

We live in the super cool neighbourhood of Beyoglu (formerly known as Pera). Wandering the streets you can find; tucked next to a chandelier shop or a tile maker; a coffee shop gallery where you can have a cappuccino  for the price of a three coarse meal two doors down.  The buildings are old, really old with crumbling stairs and pealing walls and strange smells and lots of dust and pigeons holes. The other day we made our way up 96 stairs, in what seemed like a pretty sketchy, deserted building, we arrived at the top and as promised, there was a very well appointed restaurant with a superb view. The cliental was a variety of hipsters and fashionistas, women dressed to the nines in heels and all I could think of was: Were they helicoptered up here? I could not imagine them making the trip through the building up those stairs. We enjoyed the view and our 20 Turkish lira G&T and 10 Turkish lira beer (a small one at that).  

There is a sliver through the buildings so we can see the Bospheros from our bedroom window, views are the cache of Istanbul and many men stand on street corners luring tourists through the strangest places to arrive at a lovely rooftop restaurants with beautiful views. We visited the Istanbul Modern, a contemporary gallery situated right on the water in a converted warehouse. The coffee shop has a excellent view but when the cruise ships  arrive they park right in front of those cafe windows. How does that change your work environment? The cruise ships are HUGE.

Gentrification is going on before our eyes in this area and the urban transformation will definitely change the nature and inhabitants of the historic parts of Istanbul over the next few years, think Soho. Think twice before moving on down though since Istanbul is built a top the North Anatolian Fault and they too await "The Big One!" Gated communities in the suburbs  use the prospect of an earthquake as good reason to move inner city inhabitants to their brand new "safe" homes.

The Galata Tower, a longstanding landmark, is the heart of our confusion of streets,  in 1638, Herarfen Ahmet Celebi took off from the 183 foot tower using artificial wings he had built and flew six kilometres to the other side of the Bospheros. He is credited with the first flight ever in aviation history. The ruling sultan at the time gave him a sack of gold and exiled him to Algeria, since "he was capable of doing anything he wished". I would have had him make wings for all my enemies.

To get to Istiklal Caddessi (The Champs Ellysees of Istanbul) we climb a short, but steep, narrow hill and that hill is a parking lot. It is very entertaining to watch at the end of the work day as the car jockeys extract cars from the jumble without hitting other cars, pedestrians or just the traffic that goes up and down.  There is a lot of honking and shouting and skill involved in maneuvering on such an incline.

The question is why anyone would drive here at all? We have seen cars making their way through the narrow streets and suddenly they are behind a delivery truck  stopped right in the middle of the street to unload , (there is no where to pull over) you might try to back up but if a train of cars is behind you why not just get out, have a smoke, order a tea, perhaps a game of backgammon because your going to sit there for quite a while. Honking is a subtle musical art and can be used for simple greeting or call to arms. 

We have spent many hours browsing on Istiklal Caddessi, an only pedestrian, (well mostly only pedestrian street) lots of buskers, bookstores, musical instruments, and every kind of store including of course Starbucks and Lush. 

One of my favorite things to eat is a simit from the mobile simit cart on Istiklal. The simit is like a bagel, made in a stone oven; (flour, water, salt, yeast, grape molasses and sesame) and they have a sweet version also delicious. A good way to eat eggs in Istanbul is in the memomen dish: eggs, onions, peppers and spice. Yvonne promises a more thorough discussion of the food here in a later posting. 

Leaving the Neighbourhood

From the south end of the Istiklal Caddessi we can take the funicular (Tunel) down the hill and cross over the Galata Bridge into Sultanahmat (the old city and touristaramadama land). The bridge is nothing to look at (especially considering the gorgeous suspension bridges that cross the waters); but  is a community all of its' own; from early morning till late at night and apparently in all seasons fisherman (mostly men but a few women) line the bridge on either side and fish. We are in a city of somewhere from 15 to 20 million people existing along the water spanning over 250 miles; where does all that sewage go?  Fishing? Under the bridge on either side is a line of restaurants where you can eat fish, drink beer and gaze either up the Bospheros or down the Golden Horn. We bought a book written by Geert Mak a Dutch writer called "The Bridge" which describes the super interesting history, people and culture of the  Galata Bridge. The fishing seems to be mostly about a place to be, a hobby, a lifestyle, being part of something, a way to relax.

We love our little akbil, which is like a FOB that you load at vending machines and  it allows you to ride trams, buses, funiculars and ferries and the metro bus.  It makes a variety of musical noises that tells you: your on, you are still on (though not your first ride in 90 minutes) and a sad noise that tells you (and everyone around you) that your akbil is empty and needs loading. Last Sunday we travelled about 200 miles round trip in a transportation adventure (the metro bus being the highlight) all the way to Buyukcekmece on the Marmara Sea.  We visited Vancouver friends who are teaching english here. They taught us how to say Turkish words using English words and gave us some good advice and cultural insights.

The early summer heat has arrived and the weather is perfect (low 20s). Today we took a ferry ride; the passengers were mostly tourists and the mad rush for the best seats on the boat was scary and reminded us that we had all read some version of the same guide book and needed to get to the correct place to sit. We travelled to the north end of the Bospheros to the community of Anadolu Kavagi  almost at the Black  Sea. There we ate fish (mackerel) and shopped at the general store and at Emel Tokas Art House.  We toasted my friend Mrs Hedlin (who I learned today died last week) she was from the Tynemouth on the sea near Newcastle and so I felt the location was somewhat appropriate to think of her.

 

We are now sufficiently acclimatized and armed with advise to return to Sultanahmat and be tourists. In that neighbourhood especially, but certainly not exclusively, the constant haranguing of men wanting you to eat in their restaurants or buy their carpets is enough to drive us away. Once happily settled in a restaurant or shop comes the next level of inquiry of the nature of our relationship and the possibility of having tea. Tea being the ritual substance that seals the shopping deal or opens the door to more intimate dialogue or relations.  Since we are not interested in "tea" I have developed two very un- Canadian strategies, be rude and be Australian they don't take any shit and are not afraid to say what has to be said in a powerful way.  (Yvonne says my accent needs work.)  All credit to Kate. 

But on the other hand the tea the tea of many flavours is a vital cultural component here. It is served in lovely little glasses, everywhere . The most beautiful sight I have seen in Istanbul is the men who deliver tea. They are so focused and elegant travelling from who knows where to who knows where with a gorgeous silver tray and sometimes one simple lovely glass of tea. We first saw them at the Grand Bazaar, where I hope to photograph them later this week.