#2002 17 Europe on the Left, Asia on the Right

Monday night after a whole day of culture, we give in to our American mindset. We go to the nearest McDonalds for a light dinner. It took us over a year to learn how to have a light meal in Paris that was not at McDonalds. We haven’t been in Turkey that long, yet.

Tuesday

The Spice Market

The bazaar of yet another magnificent mosque. One corner of this one specializes in wholesale spices. We are not looking to buy a ton of spice. Perception already sits low in the water and lists to port. We start in the retail part of the spice market. Saffron by the kilo at prices I can afford. I buy a hundred grams. And a hundred grams of basil. What happens to this stuff between here and Krogers to up its value a hundred fold? Can there possibly be that many middlemen and customs agents? Maybe its price is value based, not cost based. But not now, that is a complete Crews Letter by itself.

We test taste the Turkish Delight. This one is a candy of pistachios, honey and sugar. Mistake. We buy a kilo of Turkish Delight. Only a few pieces get back to Marmaris.

A Bosporus Ferry

Across the street from the spice market is the Golden Horn and on its quay is a ferry that travels the length of the Bosporus. That’s what we want to do. Good news, we don’t have to cross the street. There is a pedestrian tunnel. It’s enough to look death by traffic in the eye from inside a car. It is hard to believe people cross main streets of Istanbul on foot.

When a ferry arrives, a mass of humanity pushes into the street and the traffic is parted. Klaxons klaxon. Drivers shout. The ferry empties. The stragglers hurry to be part of the mass. The cars, buses and trucks close in behind the mass. Traffic resumes. The timid take the tunnel. We take the tunnel.

Aboard the ferry we meet a Dutch family who have been cruising the Turquoise Coast on a gulet and are touring Istanbul before going home. We compared notes on sailing the Turquoise Coast. Their cruise had taken had started and ended in Marmaris. They had been to many of the bays and harbors that we have called on. They have a boat in Holland and were interested in Perception and our current lifestyle.

They reminded me of a conversation that they had overheard the previous day at Hagia Sophia. While we were waiting for Erol to get the tickets, I was approached by a tour guide trying to sell his services. He had asked if we had a professional guide and emphasized the word professional. I asked if he was an amateur or professional, explaining the difference between one who works for love of the work and one who works for money. In this distinction, prostitutes come to mind as the consummate professionals. He was for a moment at loss for words. It is not often that a Turk is at loss for words. Before he could answer, Erol arrived with the tickets. The would be guide disappeared into the stone work.

We had the feeling, if not the Dean, Erol is one of the deans of Istanbul tour guides. During our four days, we met several guides who were quick to tell us that Erol was their mentor, teacher and the best in Istanbul.

Interestingly, what you say one day comes back to be on the same ferry the next.

The trip up the Bosporus is a panorama of Greek, Roman, Ottoman and Turkish history. There are mosques, palaces, war memorials, museums, bridges, and Forts. The amount of commercial traffic is noticeable. The absence of yachts is very noticeable. The Turkish Pilot says this is not an easy passage and recommends some careful planning. The current is 3-4 kn. and from the north. The prevailing winds are from the north and usually quite strong. This day they were 4 - 5, 11-21 kn. There are not many places to hide a yacht Perception’s size. Maybe it is best that we surveyed these waters from someone else's boat.

We zigzag up the Bosporus stopping in both Asia and Europe.

One of the ferry landings is named for the Turkish Admiral, Barbarosa. During this stop, Erol decides to add the Naval Museum to our itinerary. He has figured out that we are into boats and the sea. We will get there on Thursday

Coşkuner is waiting for us at the Black Sea end. We have traveled the length of the Bosporus. Thinking back to Gallipoli, we have traveled from Aegean to the Black Sea.

Sadberk Hanim Museum

The Koç (pronounced coach) family is one of the wealthiest families in Turkey. The founding father started as a grocer. The marinas in Kusadasi and Ayvalic are Setur Marinas. The duty Free store at the Marmaris Ferry Terminal is Setur. Koç owns Setur. Koç Bank ATMs are some of the many that reject my Community Credit Union bank card. Migros is a large and western style supermarket chain. Koç owns Migros. No surprise, you find a Migros and a Koç Bank at each Setur Marina. Migros and McDonalds are close.

The world around, the rich get richer by working harder, investing in the future and giving back to the community that has made them rich. The founder’s daughter has provided this private museum and named it for her mother.

This traditional seaside house on the Bosporus is split down the middle. On one side, the style of upper class, 19th and 20th century Turkish home life is displayed. The richness of clothing, furnishings, and utensils is similar to what we have seen in Vienna for the same period.

The rituals of circumcision and bride selection get their own presentations. In the country tour that we took from Marmaris, these two subjects were explained rather thoroughly and a bit graphically. There are strong parallels between the upscale, bourgeois, city version and the lower class, country version. “Family Values” in Turkey are something that tradition, community, and parents direct, not politicians.

Unfortunately, the US continues to export to Turkey, and the rest of the world, our failed plan for how families should work. We do this in TV, movies and CDs. Here, as in France, when people learn that we are from Dallas, they ask, “Do you know JR?” That long running display of dysfunctional family living is all Dallas has to say about who we are.

On this side of the museum there is also a display of ceramics.

The other side are relics and displays from pre-Greek through Ottoman Empire Turkey.

This good little museum has a web page. Http://www.sadberkhanimmuzesi.org.tr/ Choose the English page unless your Turkish is fluent.

Lunch

One advantage of traveling with a guide is Erol speaks Turkish. We stopped at a waterfront restaurant that doesn’t see American tourists often. The waiter had no English. Specialty of the house is seafood. The beer was cold, the calamari and salad was good, the fried mussels great and the sea bream superb. It was the best sea food that we have eaten since August of last year in Okukije on the island of Mljet in Croatia.

The price for 4 of us? 40,000,000 TL (about 28 USD)

Beylerbeyi Palace

There are two bridges across the Bosporus. We drive across the northern one and then wind our way down to the summer palace. Built in the 1860s, it is a three storied mansion divided in to two sections: the Harem for women and the Selamik for men. The Sultan and eunuchs could go to both sections. It is well situated to take advantage of the prevailing north winds of summer.

It was used for the business of the Empire and the home of the Sultan until the end of the Ottoman Empire.

An interesting omission is a kitchen. Not far away, 3 miles as the albatross flies, is the kitchen of Dolmbahce Palace. The chef and his staff are familiar with that kitchen, its equipment and quirks. Why spoil a good thing? They can stay there for the summer and we’ll get some guys to row up and deliver the food. “Up” not “over”, there is a 3-4 kn. current and a strong wind running the wrong way most of the summer. Dominoes Pizza has nothing on these guys. In addition to the home of the Sultan and his family in the Harem, the Selamik was used to accommodate visiting dignitaries and throw the receptions, state dinners and parties that one expects with national and international diplomacy. One can only imagine the consternation, followed by logistics, of the chef and the coxswain when told that they are having few people over for dinner, followed by a reception. 50 for the sit down dinner and 500, or so, for the later festivities.

The Grand Bazaar is on the itinerary for today. It is late. We beg off.

Wednesday

Dolmbahce Palace

Just 3 miles southwest and across the Bosporus from the Beylerbeyi Palace is a marshy area that was filled in to provide the grounds and setting for the major palace of the Empire, 1856 to the start of the Republic. It was here that Ataturk died in 1938 at 0905. Because it transitioned directly from palace to museum without a war or anarchy to destroy it, every thing in it and about it is either original or a reproduction of the original. When carpets, drapes or upholstery wear out, great pains are taken to exactly reproduce the replacement.

As is the Beylerbeyi Palace, Dolmbahce Palace is divided into Selamik and Harem.

We stopped by the Naval Museum only to discover that it was closed. The exact reason for why it was closed was not clear. There will be another day.

We took the bridge across the Bosporus and headed north. The urban sprawl is a bit frightening. They have built and are building many large high-rise housing complexes at distances from the city. It was like driving out of Los Angeles and seeing eight and twelve story condos everywhere there are now single family dwellings. The mass transit can’t handle the growth and they can’t pave highways wide enough. Where will the exhaust fumes go?

Why big cities get bigger escapes me. Why do companies cave in to having a prestigious address? Why do they subject their work force to endless commutes? How do families cope with the negative pressures that a large concentration of people exerts on the family unit? When we had daughters to raise, we were timid. We took the tunnel.

The countryside between Istanbul and the Asian shore of the Black Sea is something between hilly and mountainous. It is heavily forested. It is dotted with villages, farms, stables and camp grounds that provide weekend escape for the city dwellers. In the coastal town of Şeli, we stood on a bluff and stared north into a wind from Russia. One of Erol’s favorite expressions is, “From Russia with Love.” He frequently used it. The Cold War may be over, but for an old man like me, this wind from Russia was a wee bit cold.

In the harbor of Şeli there were two yachts. The harbor is there for fishing boats. There are no facilities for yachts. These two were from England and the US. The US crew was taking a nap. The English husband and wife were more than happy to answer my questions.

“Have you sailed much of the Black Sea? How is it?”

“Today is not a good day to ask. We were anchored in the harbor last night with two other boats. The third one left for Istanbul this afternoon. During the night, someone stole the dinghies and the outboards of all three boats. Just came up behind us and untied the painters.

If that were not bad enough, when we were making the police report everything was OK until one of the skippers asked the police chief if we could call in three or four days to find out if the dinghies had been found. He explained that if not, he would replace his in Istanbul. The chief was surprised.

He asked, “You could afford to buy a replacement so soon?”

When all three skippers replied that they would have to, the chief’s expression glazed over and he said, “People here are very poor. They would have to save many years to buy such a boat and motor.”

“We don’t expect to get our dinghy back.” the Englishmen told me.

So goes our Camelot. We know there is poverty here. But with it we have seen dignity and honor. Just for a moment we saw the backside of the coin.

“As for the sailing,” they continued, “We were part of the Black Sea Rally. It took us to several countries. The travel was good. The sailing was not. We wouldn’t recommend the Rally or the Black Sea.”

The drive back into Istanbul demonstrated that my worst fear of urban sprawl and the resulting gridlock is in Istanbul’s future. There were vendors in the freeway selling ice cream, soft drinks, water, and mobile phone adapters to charge your phone from the car battery. Urban sprawl and gridlock is in their present and can only get worse.

Another large lunch made a light dinner a good idea. We consulted the hotel manager. He called the three possible KFC locations. Paris has four. Only one in Istanbul remains open. We took a full up E ride taxi trip to KFC in Levant, an Istanbul suburb. This taxi driver made maniac seem mild. Coşkuner is a great driver. We should have asked him to drive. We could have introduced him to traditional American cuisine. The taxi trip back to the hotel was nearly as wild. Different driver, different route, different time of day, it was nearly as wild. KFC in Istanbul today is just the way we remember KFC at the Hi Ho Restaurant on 21st Ave. S in Nashville 42 years ago. Some things are good enough. There is no room for improvement.

Keep a Tight Luff,

Fred

PS The web page mentioned in the previous Crews Letter, http://www.sanalistanbul.com/index.htm is good for pictures and details of the Palaces. Check out the museum page first.

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