A Lot of Istanbul

♪♪Istanbul was Constantinople. Now it’s Istanbul, not Constantinople.♪♪ That much history you may have learned from a very catchy tune, “Istanbul (not Constantinople).” The song has been covered by (among others) The Four Lads, Perry Como and Brenda Lee, Ella Fitzgerald and Bing Crosby, Bette Midler and, perhaps most recently, They Might be Giants.

Just to fill in the blanks left by pop music, Roman emperor Diocletian ascended to the throne in 284 A.D. He considered Christianity a destabilizing influence. He therefore enacted laws requiring all citizens to offer sacrifices to the Roman gods. Failure to do so resulted in imprisonment or execution. Diocletian’s reign was an excellent time to be an aspiring Christian martyr.

Constantine I became emperor in 306. He converted to Christianity and put an end to the persecutions. In 330 A.D. he founded Constantinople and made it the Roman Empire’s eastern capital. In 532 Eastern Roman Emperor Justinan I began construction on Hagia Sophia, which would be the empire’s state church. Completed in 537, the church had what was then the world’s largest interior space. It accomplished this using a domed roof that, it is said, “changed the history of architecture.”

Hagia Sophia was still the world’s largest cathedral in 1453 (916 years later!) when Mehmet the Conqueror wrested control of Constantinople from Constantine XI, the last Holy Roman Emperor. I relate this history because Hagia Sophia still stands today, more than 500 years after that conquest, and nearly 1500 years after its construction. It is one of Turkey’s most popular tourist attractions.

Mehmet immediately removed all statuary, murals and paintings depicting Christian lore. Indeed, he declared the church to now be a mosque and erected minarets from which muezzins could call the faithful to prayer five times a day.

While Mehmet and his successors destroyed Christian art, they were not all philistines. They fully appreciated the grandeur of Hagia Sophia. Indeed, it remained Istanbul’s principal mosque for over 100 years, until construction of the nearby Blue Mosque. One cannot help but notice the architectural similarity between these newer mosques and the great cathedral (Hagia Sophia) that predated them. Imitation is, as they say, the sincerest form of flattery.

“Ah,” you may think, “All that history is mildly interesting, but you did not visit Istanbul in 537 or 1453, and neither will we. Tell us about Istanbul today!”

A fair comment. Istanbul is very different today. In the 15th Century, and in the 16th, 17th, 18th and 19th centuries, the muezzins would climb the minarets and, without the benefit of amplifiers, call the faithful to prayer, and they would do so five times a day. Today the muezzins use amplifiers. Five times a day, for about the time it takes to play “Love Me Do” on a 45 rpm record (ask your grandpa), you hear the amplified voice of a man warbling a beautiful but unintelligible song. The sound makes me think of a world-class tenor determined to finish an aria despite being throttled by a strong man.

You may think that the last comment was a cheap shot, but I do not mean to suggest that the a cappella performances are not beautiful or inspirational. They are both. I looked forward to them. I especially enjoyed the brief moments when a nearby muezzin would finish in time for me to hear the remnants of the same song from a more distant mosque.

A minor league utility player could stand in front of Hagia Sophia and bat a hardball through a window in the Blue Mosque. They are that close. And there are several smaller mosques nearby. From this part of the city one may think there are a great many mosques in Istanbul. However, in this city of 15.46 million people there are 4,818 mosques. That is an average of one mosque for every 3,113 people. Compare this to Dubuque, Iowa, where 166 Catholic parishes serve only 58,000 people, for an average of about 350 people per church.

With nearly 15.5 million people Istanbul is by far the most populous city in Europe. It holds almost twice the population of New York City. Of course Istanbul covers more than three times the area. However, having visited both cities, I can assure you that large portions of Istanbul are even more freewheeling and chaotic than the most crowded NYC borough. Throughout the city traffic is a nightmare, and mass transit is a joke (full disclosure: I did not test the tram system because the cars were standing room only and I visited during Omicron’s debut).

While traffic is horrendous (don’t even think about renting a car in Istanbul), taxis are cheap. Our last evening in Istanbul we were compelled to travel across town and back again (more on that later), a trip that lasted about two hours. Our fare was less than twenty dollars.

Getting a taxi, however, can be challenging, especially if your destination is in the midst of particularly narrow and congested streets. After having cabbies refuse our business (upon hearing where we wanted to go) we had them take us to a more hospitable street, and then walked ten or twenty minutes to our final destination.

At least one mystery lurks in the heart of every large city. Istanbul’s great mystery is this: How is it that in this sprawling, congested and chaotic city the people are so doggone nice? You may view that question with a fair amount of skepticism. I know I would.

Denise is an exceptionally nice person. After every vacation she comments on how nice the people were. I am less generous, and remind her that most of the people she encountered were in the hospitality industry. They are paid to be nice. It is because I am a skeptic and not particularly generous that you should believe me when I say that if you rate niceness on a scale of one to ten, you may have to add an eleven after visiting Istanbul.

I do not ask that you accept my conclusion. I will offer you concrete examples. Before I do, however, let us harken back to New York City.

New Yorkers have a reputation for being brusque. Some might say rude. I know many New Yorkers who are wonderful people, but I visited the city several times and I have to say that the city’s reputation is not entirely unearned. I have always attributed the harsh manners to an artifact of too many people living in too small a space.

Istanbul is an even bigger city. If overall it is less densely populated, the mediaeval infrastructure has resulted in far more chaos than must be endured by any denizen of the Big Apple. And yet, the people in Istanbul are sweet and generous and courteous.

We happened to see two small traffic accidents. Each was a minor fender bender. In each case the two drivers got out of their cars and spoke. You could see the person at fault express remorse. You see the other driver console the person at fault. Then you see the two men embrace each other and go their separate ways.

Here is a more personal example. On our last day in Istanbul we went to the Egyptian Bazaar. This is an amazing indoor market where you can buy all sorts of spices and caviar and other exotic foods. Our last stop in the bazaar was at Alaturka (shop 54). We bought spices and trinkets from a young man named Emre.

By the time Emre had bagged our purchases it was dark outside and we were hungry. We asked Emre to recommend a restaurant. Emre led us out the nearby bazaar entrance and took us to a small restaurant with maybe a half dozen tables. Denise and I put our backpacks on our chairs and sat with our backs to the large window facing the street.

I will digress from my story to say here that Turkish food is amazing. We had over twenty meals at fifteen or more restaurants. My description of those meals will mirror what an old man once said of sex: “The worst I ever had was splendid.” Possibly it was the great food, or maybe the engaging company, that distracted us so that we did not notice someone walking off with Denise’s backpack.

Perhaps you want to say that this theft is inconsistent with my description of the Turks. To which I very respectfully say, “Don’t be stupid.” Every large city will have its share of pickpockets and sneak thieves. What is important is how the honest citizens of that city support the victims of these scallywags.

As we got up to leave Denise realized her bag was missing. She did not take the absence well. A hand went to her forehead as she wailed, “Everything is gone! My passport! My cell phone! My credit cards! I won’t be able to leave without my passport!” I immediately tried to use my android phone to track Denise’s Iphone. Clarity dashed back into the bazaar to make sure the bag hadn’t been forgotten at Alaturka.

The bag was not at Alaturka, but Emre offered to take Clarity to the police station. She accepted that help and Emre excused himself from work so that he could be Clarity’s personal translator. Meanwhile, I found that my Pixel could remotely lock Denise’s Iphone, but could not locate it. I made calls to the American consulate (to replace the passport) and I cancelled Denise’s credit cards.

After an hour or so Denise and I made our way to the police station where Clarity and Emre had completed a report, one which included a photograph of Denise’s missing backpack (Clarity had photographed a street scene with her mother’s back to the camera). While outside the station Denise again exclaimed that she had lost “everything.” A Turkish passerby heard Denise’s lament and pulled a wad of bills from his pocket. “What do you need?” he asked.

I was not thinking clearly so I explained that the panicked woman’s husband could provide for her, that the man’s generosity was appreciated but not required. A short time later we learned that Denise’s backpack, still containing her passport, had been found. It was at a police station on an opposite side of the immense city. We marveled at the thief’s speed. I assume he rode a scooter or motorcycle.

Why a scooter or motorcycle? Remember what I said about traffic congestion? Well, if you ever scratched your head at American motorcyclists lane splitting (as is legal in California), you would be agape in Istanbul. People on motorized bikes demonstrate no fear. They weave in and out of traffic like the frog in that old arcade game (“Frogger”). When the streets offer no path forward they jump the curb and speed past sidewalk pedestrians. The first time you see this you think “This is like a movie chase scene.” After ten days in Turkey you may see a film where the hero rides his motorcycle on a busy sidewalk. You will think, “That’s like Istanbul.”

We found a cab and Emre told the driver where to take us. Clarity offered Emre a fifty euro note. He held up both hands and backed away. He would not hear of it. Did you think Emre might have led us to the restaurant knowing that a confederate would be waiting to steal our things? Did you think that he set us up? Shame on you. Emre is a very good man. If ever you find yourself in Istanbul you should go to Alaturka and pay full price for whatever he is selling.

So it was that our story had a happy ending. True, Denise lost an Iphone. It cost over a thousand dollars to replace that, for which I blame both the thieves and the ghost of Steve Jobs. But no lives were lost, no injuries sustained, and our faith in humanity was rejuvenated. To top it off, Clarity’s Christmas present to us was an upgrade to Business Class.

I have in the past walked past an airplane’s front seats and wondered why people would pay extra just to sit in slightly bigger chairs a little closer to the front. On this four hour Turkish Airlines flight, however, Business Class was amazing. The capacious chairs fully reclined. Movies played on a larger screen. We could barely hear the hum of jet engines. Stewards provided a four course meal. A person could be spoiled by such comforts.

Before we leave Istanbul, however, I offer a few notes for future visitors.

First, do not be afraid of the Grand Bazaar. Shop owners will entreat you to buy from them, but they are always friendly, and they remain friendly after you politely decline their invitations. Outside the bazaar men will approach you with their hands full of designer colognes. These fellows will be somewhat more aggressive. If you simply turn away and continue speaking with your traveling companion they will assume this is a negotiating tactic. They will offer to lower their price. They will continue their one-sided negotiation for as long as you stand still. Once you take a few steps they will move on.

Second, take cash, and trade only a fraction of your cash for Turkish Lira. Shop owners love to deal in euros and dollars. You will get a much better deal if you pay cash.

Third, and finally, before you leave home decide where you will place your new rug. You will not leave Turkey without a new rug.

Everywhere you go people will approach you and in impeccable English ask where you are from. They will be impressed with your answer. They will tell you something about themselves and they will offer an interesting history of wherever you happen to be standing. They will invite you to follow them to their shop, which has been in the family for generations, to enjoy tea and conversation. Perhaps you will decline the invitation. This will hurt their feelings. You are a nice person and do not want to hurt their feelings. You tell them you have no interest in rugs, but you will see their store. Your new friend is overjoyed. His faith in humanity has been restored by your acceptance of his hospitality.

At the shop he asks what kind of rug you like, traditional or modern. You remind him that you do not want a rug and he shrugs because of course he knows that. He is just making conversation about your taste in interior design. You tell him your preference and then he asks about color and again you remind him that you do not need a rug but again he shrugs because this is just a conversation between friends. He energetically pulls out half a dozen rugs. You hate to see him go to such effort on your account and you tell him so. He does not mind because he likes you and wants to get to know you better. He asks which of the rugs you would like to buy IF it were not for the fact that you do not want or need a rug. You bite on the hypothetical and then he asks what you would be willing to pay, IF you were in the market for a rug. Long story short, your next mission is to buy a suitcase large enough to accommodate your new rug.

Now you must loiter near a luggage vendor until the owner asks where you are from . . ..