Despite both our type A pesonalities, Paul and I have been taking a laissez faire approach to our time in Istanbul and found ourselves wandering down to the ferry terminal today to see about this nearby continent of "Asia" that we had been hearing about.
The busy terminals were filled with touters- for pretzels and corn and chestnuts and cruises and tourguides. We ended up on a ferry cruise of the Bosphorous Strait, which we were pretty sure would allow us to step foot in Asia.
If you ever find yourself in Istanbul, these river cruises (which you can get as cheap as 10 lira or ~4.5 euro) are an excellent way to see the city- with asia on one side and europe on the other. We got off at the final stop and enjoyed two hours wandering a little village on the hillside in the late afternoon sun. We high fived the fact that we had made it "all the way to Asia."
At the top of the nearest hillside was an old castle- it wasn't furnished as a tourist site, other than that there was a road leading up to it and lots of cafes offering spectacular views of the hills and sea below. On our way up we weaved through a small village- this was indeed built around the visiting ferry goers- with ice cream and fish market and restaurants galore. We passed by a booth of fish; ones that were identical to those I had been kindly given earlier this week in Istanbul. In asking the shop keeper, he offered me more freebies of what turned out to be fried anchovies. Who would have thought they were so good?
While snapping photos of the sea from the castle site, a Turkish tourist came up to Paul, who also uses a DSLR camera. The man gestured towards Paul's camera. Paul thought he was trying to engage in "camera chat," but as the gestures continued (the Turkish man spoke virtually no english), camera lenses were switched from the man's camera to Paul's. He was lending Paul his high-end lense!
To put this in context, this man was using a professional grade DSLR- of the same brand as Paul- only costing astronomically more. The camera was worth well over 7,000 euro and the lense was worth over 6,000. And he just handed it off to Paul, as it was compatible with his camera, to allow Paul a chance to go snap happy with a lense built for spotting hummingbirds a hundred miles away. Strangers...aren't they lovely?
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| The view from A hillside cafe in Asia looking over the Bosphorous Strait. With Dex and Em (see: "One Day" by David Nicolls, also at a theatre near you). |
On the boat ride back we found some great seats and took in the riverside as the sun began to set. A man came along and sat down next to me on the bench, squeezing between two asian teenagers and me. He soon engaged in conversation with the teenagers, who spoke little English, and then turned to me.
"Are you Herman?"
"Pardon me?"
"Herman, are you?"
I paused and looked out at the water for a moment. What is he saying? Ohhh.....
"No, I am Canadian."
"Oh, you look Herman."
Right.
Conversation continued, and I soon learned that this socially awkward young man was Palestinian and was studying in Istanbul for a semester abroad. (I think....)
It was quiet for a while before he turns to me again and says,
"Is that bum?"
Oh my god.
That's hardly discreet. Is he hitting on me? It can't be.
"Pardon me?" I ask as politely as possible, trying to avoid my usual beat read face when embarassed.
"Bum," he says again, this time pointing toward the bench between us.... ie. where my "bum" is.
Wow.... who is this guy?
I pause for some time now. Paul, who is sitting on the other side of me, looks up from his book with a confused expression.
I give the guy one more shot,
"Sorry, I didn't hear you."
"Buuummmm," he says again, this time tapping his index finger on my metal waterbottle, which is in fact sitting next to me, then gesturing with his hands....
Bomb. He meant bomb.
His hands were flailing, as if to recreate the explosion of a bomb.
I quickly replied, "No no no!"
I am laughing, but also trying to keep a straight face. I didn't want others nearby to catch wind of this conversation regarding a "bomb" on this ferry in Istanbul- a mere week after an actual bomb had gone off in the country's capital.
"No, it's just my water bottle," I say. "But I suppose it does have that shape?"
He just grins and nods, thend looks away, taking in the passing riverbanks of this sprawling city.
And that we did. By night three we had learned that if we ate early enough, restauranters wanted us in their restaurants as a full restaurant attracted more tourists. I'll admit, I'm a bit more at ease trying some random new spot when I see lots of other travelers doing the same. When it comes to dining out in foreign cities, it's easy to become sheep.
But the tactics did not stop there- in every case we were always offered tables sitting right out at the front. These were all open-air restaurants, great for a view of the sea or just people watching on a busy street. Paul managed to barter the prices down by 20% on our mains, and 10% on wine at this particular fish restaurant- this was to be the cost of our "restaurant mannequin" services. We were young, often smiley, and clearly foreigners. The perfect bait for passer-bys looking for reassurance that others like them are eating there, so it must be good!
We placed our orders and enjoyed sipping our discounted wine, knowing that as the place filled up we were paying far less than the posh diners around us. I had mentioned that we were ravenous. So by the time bread basket number three was brought to the table, we were surprised. We had easily eaten a loaf of bread each- and yet they kept bringing it. They had replaced basket #2 before it was even empty!
"That's awfully visible bread," says Paul.
Oh my... he was right. The bread was yet another prop! There is nothing more enticing than seeing free bread on people's dining tables when you're chosing a restaurant (aside from good food, I suppose), and this place was capitalising on it. We scanned the front end of the restaurant and found the same trend. They were shockingly attentive in ensuring the tables were plentiful of food and drink- but not so efficient at clearing things away. And food was ALWAYS served from the front... even if it meant walking a whole loop of the restaurant to make it out to the sidewalk- where passerbys could see the dishes- before cutting back in to serve the food. Suffice to say it was entertaining to watch once we discovered the system.
Following dinner we headed onto the backpacker strip where we were staying for cheap drinks. We settled in at the only remaining restaurant/bar that Paul and I had not yet visited on this stretch- "Just Bar"- aptly named. These places offer Effes, a Turkish beer, red and white wine, hooka, and backgammon- all backdropped by colourful cushions and bright lanterns from above.
We ended up chatting with many of the Turkish staff... and became friends. Paul snuck off to the neighbouring convenience store and came back with a pack of pistachios. Our host and staffer, who had been sitting with us for some time, offered to bring over a proper dish for the snacks. He returned with a dish and soon after came his colleague (who was also the owner), who once we got chatting, was running with a joke about making me shut up (go figure). He pried open pistachio after pistashio, handing them to me like a vending machine, all in a dramatic attempt to keep my mouth full...and quiet. We were having a grand old time and it wasn't long before I began hanging spoons on my face and balancing wine glasses on knives. It was like a cruise ship dinner in Istanbul. After too many free drinks and pistachio nuts Paul and I retired to our hostel across the street. Before parting ways, we exchanged names with the hosts- in the event that they forgot my name, I pointed across the street as a reminder, where there was a brightly lit "Bonita Tour Travel"... with BONITA in significantly larger font. We all laughed as Paul and I sauntered away, grinning and pleased with a relaxed and enteratining evening.
Good night Istanbul.
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