how bazaar, how bazaar

To put it lightly, in the days before the MV docked in Istanbul I was kind of hating Semester at Sea. I was sniffling around the boat nursing my post-Greece plague and miserably realizing that Mykonos had drained all my money and had been maybe the biggest letdown of my life. All of the ports I’d been most looking forward to were behind me and I’d been wildly underwhelmed by one of them. I found myself daydreaming about getting back to school and moving into my new house when I was in self-induced quarantine in 4058 on that last day docked in Piraeus. And then it got even worse when I started reminiscing about Summer 2009 in New York City and how high of a bar it set for well, the rest of my life. These are DANGEROUS thoughts for someone who is supposed to be having the time of her life frolicking throughout the Mediterranean without a care in the world. And they needed to be alleviated.

Enter, Istanbul, Turkey. Without a doubt one of the world’s most fantastic cities. Praise Allah, I’m healthy thanks to meds purchased at a Turkish drugstore and back in the right mental state on this trip thanks to five amazing days.

Things were really laid back for Turkey because we got to use the MV as our hotel and didn’t need to worry about traveling outside the city limits for any reason. No more frantic train station nightmares or creepy hotels for a minute. And we had five whole days to explore the city – which I figured would be ample time.

Well, I could have stayed in Istanbul for another five months and probably not have been satisfied. I felt like I was cheating on Barcelona. It was fantastic and I adored every insane cab ride where we thought we were for sure going to die and every Turkish man who proposed to me. It is a truly unique city. When they say it’s where “East meets West” they aren’t kidding – the city is literally straddling the border between Europe and Asia. And it can’t really decide if it wants to be a Western country (hence, I saw a Subway a Dominos and a Starbucks) or an Arab country (hence, mosques on every corner next to the Dominos). Either way, it’s amazing. The skyline is peppered with the turrets and minarets of the mosques soaring above the massive urban sprawl of apartments and shopping districts, all reflecting off the inky Bosporus that bisects the city.

As for the touristy stuff, the Hagia Sophia is prettier than the Blue Mosque on the inside (don’t let the outside fool you). The Blue Mosque isn’t actually blue. And it smells like feet. Is that sacrilegious? Whatever, it’s the truth. The Topkapi Palace is awesome and on a beautiful expanse of lush land but it’s also really overcrowded and overwhelming. It seemed like every Saudi Arabian tourist in the world had decided to come see the artifacts housed in the Topkapi’s treasuries at the exact same moment as me, and at one instant I got quite literally stuck in a sweating sea of people screaming at each other in Arabic and grappling and shoving to catch a glimpse of the lock of Muhammed’s hair they have on display. Uncomfortable. I was really tempted to clip a lock of my Iranian friend Cameron’s beard and start waving it around and proclaiming I’d discovered another artifact of the Prophet to clear people out but again, I’m being sacrilegious. They also had some sick jewels and gold on display but everyone was just more concerned with the hair.

As for food, I’m still mourning the end of Italian cuisine so I haven’t really been satisfied with anything that isn’t drowned in olive oil and balsamic/somehow involving mozzarella but nonetheless, I wasn’t crazy about Turkish food. I just don’t like meat that much. I don’t think ANYONE likes meat as much as the Turks. They have meat served in every possible style from sandwich to kebab to fillet on literally every menu. And it all strangely tastes exactly the same. Being a vegetarian must feel really humiliating there. Also, side note: the corn the street vendors sell on every corner SUCKS so don’t eat it. As does the ice cream the dudes do tricks with – its consistency is really creepy and gummy. Again, don’t eat it.

Another classically Turkish delicacy we dabbled in was hookah. A lot of my friends have hookahs at school and sometime we’ll go to hookah bars when we’re bored (meaning, when no one can get in to Boardwalk we’ll go sulk at Oasis in the Grove) so I’ve had my share of experience. But I’d like to draw up an SAT-style comparison so you can understand what I’m about to say about real Turkish hookah tobacco. Marijuana is to Amsterdam as tobacco is to Istanbul. The shit is INTENSE. You can literally take four hits and feel so stoned you’ll be asking your waiter if they sprinkled a little hash in the shisha. And if you don’t drink enough water you’ll nearly puke from how light-headed you get. Insane.

One of the greatest things to do in Istanbul is to brave the insanity that is the Grand Bazaar. It’s the largest covered bazaar in the world and without a doubt one of the most famous. And infamous. Let’s play the, how many Turkish men can you attract offering you jewelry or scarves or lamps in less than 30 seconds standing in the middle of the walkway looking lost game. Answer: around 40. I’m not kidding. They flock around people who look like tourists (aka tall blondes who obviously aren’t Turkish) and try to butter you up and tell you how beautiful you are and almost physically shove you into their stores and stands. People called me Shakira and Britney Spears and Barbie like, every second. It was hilarious and overwhelming and amazing all at the same time. The bazaar is a massive maze of sensory overload and takes a good two full days to entirely explore. And if you spend more than five minutes deciding whether or not you want to buy something, or trying to haggle down the price, you start getting force-fed apple tea (which is delicious) until you say yes. And I’m not gonna lie, that shit works. Maybe they brew it with some sort of shopping aphrodisiac.

In between filling our bags with tea and Turkish delight and doing the Islam tour of Istanbul we enjoyed some surprisingly amazing nightlife. The swankiest clubs in the city (with names like Anjelique and Reina) line the Bosporus and have beautiful views of the navy blue river and the sparkling suspension bridge at night. They are laughably overpriced though, running around 20-30 bucks a shot. Our Turkish friend Ralfi who we know from Miami informed us that if you combined the net worth of everyone at Anjelique the night we were there, it would make up half the GDP of Turkey. Absurd. It makes South Beach look like penny beer night.

As our whirlwind visit to Istanbul came to a close, we had just a few hours on the last day to fill before returning to the boat. And there was only one way to properly end our time there. Turkish baths. They are just as weird and naked and sweaty as you would expect but also strangely relaxing. The baths are gender divided, which means you are scrubbed down by someone of your own sex. That’s right, dude on dude sudzing. I can only imagine the kind of Turkish men my guy friends got physical with. And of course I spotted the woman who I knew would be rubbing me down the minute I walked into the hot steam room of the bath – the biggest fattest woman with the tiniest little black bikini out of all of them. Clearly it was fate. She called me over almost immediately. Despite the creepy homoeroticism, if you go to Turkey you really have to get one. I felt so serene and relaxed all day afterwards, even in the heat and commotion of the Istanbul streets.

For the first time since Barcelona, I didn’t feel burnt out or ready to leave this country. As the MV pulled out of the port at sunset I was genuinely sad to leave Istanbul. Things get hotter, sandier and more Muslim as we head to Egypt next. I’ll be putting to use all the genie pants I bought in Istanbul because I’m pretty sure Alexandria and Cairo aren’t as lenient as the previous port when it comes to women and conservative dress. But I mean, I’m going to be riding camels and seeing the Pyramids – I’ll worry about my attire later.