Maher-Peddie

 Hello from Istanbul, home to 13 million people and straddling two continents. Istanbul has enough charm for ten cities and the worst weather we've experienced since Hannover – but if we could only return to one place, Istanbul would be the place.

We arrived early evening Friday, it was dark, cold and raining, what better time to go looking for a strange restaurant in a strange gigantic city. The hotel, located on the European side (Beyoğlu) gave us a Xeroxed map with the wrong location of the restaurant marked on it. We wandered circles and asked several people who wanted to get the hell out of the rain and not try and speak English to a trio of fools. Finally we were told by some cops, "straight, 500 meter, on right – straight – 500 meters – straight." OK, OK, we got it, follow this crooked road that doesn't have a straight part in it for about 5 football fields. We did, looking for the Topaz restaurant at No. 50, Inönö Caddesi. We were on the left (north) side and the numbers slowly went up to when it was No.49 we thought, prayed, we were there, we switched sides only to find that on THAT side of the street it was No.12. Slosh slosh we trudged toward the river knowing that either we'd run out of road or find N.50. Sloshing further we saw the restaurant's subtle but tasteful sign. It was worth the trek.

Kathleen, Ping, and I gratefully sat down and studied the menu. They sipped French wine whilst I braved the Turkish Chardonnay – none of us complained and all of us tasted the selections. The restaurant had two multi-course menus, the Traditional, and the Innovative – we ordered one of each to split between us, along with the wine parings. The waiter simply couldn't understand two meals three people and so had to call the better English speaking manager over, who got it immediately and said to the waiter in a tone of voice – two plates in the middle, it's simple, got it?

The rest was PFM – pure freeking magic. We passed around the food, the wine and couldn't believe our good fortune. The rain had let up and we had a view of the Dolmabahçe Mosque with its lit spires to our right, and Bosphorus bridge to our left, the Bosphorus river in front of us with its boats.

Saturday we were anxious to visit the famous Topkapi palace. All we knew about Topkapi was that it was a charming caper movie starring Melina Mercouri and Maximilian Schell. Little did we know. When the taxi dropped us off on the Asian side, known as the Fatih, we were met with a blowing cold rain and the driver pointed: that way.

Entering the gate, which we found eventually, revealed part of the huge complex of the palace. Topkapi is 700,000 sq. meters (~ 3 acres) and was the official and primary residence of the Ottoman Sultans for approximately 400 years (1465-1856) of their 624-year reign. There's four courtyards and over a dozen buildings, all domed, including the multiple rooms of the Imperial Treasury.

In it are some relics dating back to the prophet Mohammad, including his footprint in some solidified mud, his sword, and part of his mustache. Regardless of your beliefs, it's impressive to see stuff that old and that revered.

On to the bazaar
We left Topkapi, stopped and looked at three mausoleums, bought a pair of gloves for Kathleen's freezing hands, and then went looking for a taxi. Can you spell tourist?

The taxi fare to the entrance of Topkapi from our hotel, across town, over the river, and around the palace – about 30 minutes in light traffic was 12.5 Lira, I generously gave the diver 14 Lira. We jumped into a taxi just outside the Topkapi and argued with the driver about where we wanted to go – to the Grand Bazaar, not the blue mosque. He said 35 Lira. We knew the Grand Bazaar was in walking distance -- if it were only walking weather. I said no and started to argue, but in the back seat my two frozen female companions said, "Fine, just drive," and so off we went, my side of the windshield streaming up from my huffing. Then to add injury to insult he dropped us off at a street, pointed and said, "Up there."

I handed him a 20 and three fives, and he handed the twenty back to me. I was itching for a fight and figured he was demanding a tip, but no, after a few sentences of yelling, he was protesting the twenty because it has a corner of it torn off – I'll come back to that.

Off we went in the cold rain in search of the Grand Bazaar. Our driver, as it turned out, had dropped us six or seven blocks away. We found an entrance – it was thankfully covered; and huge. About ten city blocks squared, it went on and on seemingly forever. There were sections to some of it, carpets, leather, jewelry, clothing, etc. But it was also a hodgepodge of tiny two meter wide, or less, shops.
Inside the Grand Bazaar.

We spent the evening in the bar eating snacks and drinking the really delicious Turkish wine. Sunday I cashed in some more dollars at the front desk and told them about the torn 20 Lira. "Where did you get it?" The desk clerk asked. From you I told him, and handed it to him. He then went behind the counter, where I could see him talking to the manager, and later came out and presented me with an un-torn 20. When I asked him about it he said the corner is torn off when a bill is no good, that it has to be burned. I think that means it is a counterfeit note which left me wondering, who tears off the corners, and how do they get back into circulation?

It wasn't raining Sunday, just cold, real cold, about 2C, so we decided no marching about and went to the archeological museum. WOW.

What a museum, and what a historical record it has, with artifacts and statues from the Greeks, and maps and history notes showing the influence on Turkey (known then as the Ionian civilization in the Aegean region of Anatolia.) It seemed liked we never wanted to leave but eventually, after about three hours we had saturated on history and headed out the door, only to be greeted by snow white cat on the white marble steps, and the cat was afraid of nothing, certainly not us. We would learn about cats in Istanbul.

How Bazaar How Bazaar
From the museum we decided to walk to the Spice Bazaar. That was fun, along the way (the wrong way, I was completely turned around) Kathleen found a scarf for 15 Lira (would have cost 110 Lira in the Grand Bazaar), and I picked up a new friend who was very interested in where I was from, and where I was going, Kathleen saved me by yelling at me to come see something - a scarf.

However, another guy who was selling Kathleen a beautiful scarf for a really reasonable price caught wind of my intention to walk to the Spice Bazaar by heading in the wrong direction. This guy was great, he would not let me continue. I showed him the map, and pointed at signs, but he persisted until I grudgingly agreed to try the new direction for a while. This was the guy who made up for the taxi drivers of the day before and if you go to Istanbul, I think I can tell you where his stand is.)
Ping then used her iPhone to get us re-oriented and we had a path to the Spice Bazaar. What a treat, the walk to it, and then be in it. Spices of all colors and aromas, and prices that were reasonable.

We bought spices and teas and candies at reasonable prices and running out of cash I gave my last 50 Lira note to a shop keeper who I thought was one of the most respectable (Turkish people were buying from him and not bartering on price –the marked price was it.) He gave me the tea, and my changes and I quickly counted it and stuffed it in my wallet without looking.

And then it was into a taxi and off to modern art museum. Taxis in Istanbul are hard to figure out. That taxi dropped us off pretty close to the museum. The fare was a reasonable 20 Lira and I gave that to him. "No no," he said, "no good." And damned if it wasn't another torn corner 20 Lira note, given to me from the nice man in the spice bazaar - wake up Jon.

I was fuming and that was good because it was cold. When it came time to buy the tickets for the museum I handed the lady the 20 and she took it, problem solved – next time I'll look more carefully.

That evening we were tired and cold and wanted to eat in the hotel but its restaurant was closed so we made a reservation at a traditional restaurant in the Intercontinental across the street, not expecting much and appreciating the proximity to our hotel. OMG! Did we ever luck out. The restaurant was very upscale, on the roof – the 35th floor and had views of the city. The menu was amazing and the food even more so. While we dined, a couple came in played a Baglamak, a big bowl Turkish guitar, and zither-like device I think is a Kanun, and they sang traditional music. The music was embracing and the party at the table next to us couldn't resist it and sang along, it was really quite pretty and wonderful.

The next day Ping caught an early flight to Tel Aviv and we had a late afternoon one. That gave us a chance for a walk about and it wasn't too cold and not raining. We tried to get lost because that's how you discover stuff, and we almost succeeded. We did get far enough off the main street to find an alley and went down it toward the river. But coming up it was an old man with a bag and a dozen – no joke- cats following him.

He stopped at the level just below the street and brought out the food. The guy didn't look rich, but he was taking care of a herd of cats in an alley in Istanbul – miracles still happen. I had noticed cats before, and after this incident I started really noticing them. I think Istanbulites must like cats. I did a little research and found that in fact Istanbulites do have a strange love of cats - so do I, just something else to like about this city.

We were getting short on time and then we spotted the red beyoğlu tram. We were tempted to go for a ride but the circuit time would have taken too long – something for the next visit.

We went back to the hotel, caught a taxi and headed to the airport vowing to find a client in this amazing town so we could come back often.