Just the facts, Ha’mam: Navigating a Turkish Bath
While planning this second trip to Istanbul, there was one activity I knew I’d repeat: a brutal punishment beauty treatment at a hamam, or Turkish bath. Though I wrote about my hamam experience in November, I didn’t include much information about what to expect. Here are the ins and outs of getting tubbed and scrubbed.
Discern: Where should I experience a Turkish bath? Answer: I dunno. (Look how helpful this post is already!) I’ve only been to one, so I can’t offer much of an educated opinion. However, our tour guide noted that Cemberlitas, my hamam of choice, is the place a newbie might feel most comfortable. It’s also pretty pricey, but there are ways around that. See below.
- coed hamams seem…voyeuristic
Dudes: Are men in there? Answer: it depends on the hamam. There are some mixed-gender baths, but that’s not traditional. Bathing suits are required for mixed baths. In a traditional hammam, the attendants and visitors are the same gender, and no bathing suit is required.
Divestment: No bathing suit…do I have to be naked? What if I’m a nevernude? Answer: No worries, I don’t know if you can be naked. Cemberlitas visitors (who sign up for the kese, at least) are given new underwear to wear in the chamber, a fresh kese (scrubber), and a peştemal, a thin cloth that is used as a wrap. How much women want to cover up with the wrap is up to them. You can also wear a bikini bottom or entire bathing suit. Keep in mind that few people wear suits, and the keseci/torturer will stretch it out as she works her magic. Denim shorts are probably discouraged, though.
Details: What’ the deal? Answer: Sit in the main chamber and steam. A keseci will then motion you over to her “station” on the pedastal. She’ll direct your movements while scrubbing you with a kese, a slightly softer Brillo pad. It won’t hurt but it will feel like you’re getting rubbed with an extremely cheap towel by an angry person. Afterward, the keseci will rinse you off and wash you with a foamy soap bag. Then the keseci should drape you in towels and lead you to a place to sit. This doesn’t happen at the women’s chamber in Cemberlitas, but it does in the men’s area. It’s like Nordstrom: the guys are treated like kings. Unfair.
Dollars: How can I save money? Answer: If the hamam is empty, bargain for a lower price. That probably won’t work at Cemberlitas, so bring your own beauty products and kese to scrub yourself. Keses are sold at the hammam or stores for $5-20, depending on the material. Soak and start scrubbing. If it’s your first visit, I recommend a keseci. Only then will you learn how hard you can scrub your skin without crying.
The Dirty: How can I look like a local/disguise a germ phobia at the hammam? Answer: Bring your own flip flops, kese, pestemal, bikini bottom and beauty products. In fact, if you have any skin allergies, bring your own liquid soap and shampoo. Pack a hairbrush and personal hairdryer if you’re going at peak hours. The two hairdryers provided are not enough for the Saturday night crowd. While non-RHOB readers wander out with wet hair, you’ll look like a member of a Turkish harem. In a good way.
Despite the Turkish influences in Belgrade, no baths exist in the White City today. Since there are no future trips to Turkey on the horizon, I’ll have to recreate this experience with a strong loofah and a masochistic spirit. So if you see a half-peeling housewife wandering around Belgrade, be sure to say hello!
The culinary delights of Karaköy, Istanbul
Karaköy sits across the river from Istanbul’s most famous sites. It’s south of the Galata tower and dotted with markets selling everything from fish to toilet seats. While it’s not the most popular place for tourists, it might be one of the best places to enjoy a cheap and tasty meal in Istanbul. Thanks to our trusty tour guide, we checked out the following treats.
Muz believes that dessert should be the first course of any meal, so we first stopped by the famous Güllüoglu for some baklava. If you believe the hype, the founding owner of this establishment introduced the dessert to Turkey in 1871. Dentists and diets have flourished since. Muz didn’t want to miss out on any combination of phyllo and honey, and wound up getting a little taste of each kind.
I thought we were being excessive, until I looked at the table next to us. Two Turkish men were sharing a plate larger than ours. Kuma, Muz and I dug in, not stopping for air or conversation. It was all delicious, except for the chocolate. (WHY would you ruin this delicacy with chocolate?!) What wasn’t delicious was the raging headache that followed my sugar high. We needed protein, quick, so we walked to the fish market for a sandwich.
Across the river in Old Town, floating boats are famous for their giant fish sandwiches. Online message boards show heated conversations about the best fish boat. But most of the fish sold there, we were told, isn’t local. So we went straight to the source: the fish market on the opposite side of the river.
Fish boats in Old Town
Fish heads in Karakoy (Image source here)
It was definitely not the tourist scene. Slush water from the fish cooling system spilled on to the path. Vendors scowled at us, knowing we were only there to look. Fish scales were everywhere. Between the little fish graveyards, we saw an entryway and a few tables packed with people. We ignored the extensive menu and asked for three fish sandwiches and drinks.
Once again, the portions were massive. But in the name of bloggerism, dear readers, I managed to finish off my yummy sandwich. It wasn’t a gourmet meal, but it was definitely a cheap one. The bill for all three of us was about $13 USD.
There was more to explore on this slightly sketchy side of the Bosphorous, like fresh squeezed juice pressers and fruit and roasted nut vendors, but alas, we were full. On our way back to our hotel, we discovered the additional benefit of eating in Karaköy: enjoying a much-needed walk home on the Galata Bridge during sunset. It may not have been the fanciest meal in Istanbul, but it was one of the most memorable.
Turkish tea time
Though Turkish-style coffee is ubiquitous throughout the Balkans, tea reigns supreme in Istanbul. The tea is delivered to shopkeepers and passerby throughout the city in distinctive tulip-shaped glasses on special trays.
Tea and clean underwear...what more does one need?
It took a long time to get a decent photo of a tea carrier in action. These men speed walk through the city and dodge through crowds to deliver tea at the proper “freshly boiled” temperature.
In the Kadikoy district, life-and tea-goes at a slightly slower pace. I found this gentlemen taking a rare break after delivering his tray. That, or he was cleaning up after the alligator.
No sugar, please. It's bad for my teeth.
I always feel like/Somebody’s watching me…in Istanbul
You can’t walk through Istanbul without getting the evil eye. Or so one might think, given all the evil eye protection charms in the city. These charms are known as nazar in Turkey (mati in Greece).
They aren’t intended to bring luck. Rather, the charm is meant to prevent bad things from happening to the bearer. It’s all the same to RHOB: if something bad doesn’t happen, I consider that a pretty good day.
You might be tempted to think that nazars are simply sold as tourist trinkets, but the charm hangs from rearview mirrors, random keychains, and even around the neck of beloved pets.
Evil eye cat says shooing her away is bad luck
My favorite nazar location is where I first spotted one: on the wall of the Turkish Air plane we took from Belgrade to Istanbul. I’m hoping the company is relying on more than glass beads for a successful trip, but I’m not complaining about the extra insurance. Even if it IS a little creepy to feel “the eye” watching my every move.
If the title of this post didn’t make the tune stick in your head, here’s the video to officially drive you crazy:
I’m just not feelin’ you, Istanboo
Time to give Istanboo another chance?
If I were Flavor Flav, and my travels were his reality dating show, I’d let Istanbul stick around for another episode. But as Flav used to say, “I’m just not feeling you,” Istanboo.
I thought Istanboo, or Boo, and I would have a great connection. We have so much in common: a love of architecture, history, and food made with a lot of vegetables. We both like art. Boo came highly recommended: friends kept telling us what a good match we would be.
Yet I sense that Boo might not be The One. His smiles were nice, but I only saw them after I agreed to buy something. He was aggressive, trying to talk me into going into this restaurant or that carpet shop. I didn’t want a carpet, but he was insistent, stepping into my path while he delivered his pitch. “That’s just Boo,” I said to myself. “He’s a salesman.” Still, I was put off.
There were some nice surprises. We both like stray cats and dogs. His transportation system was great. The fresh-squeezed juice stands were a nice touch.
Seeing Boo’s smaller province of Kadikoy was a highlight; we had a great meal at Ciya and walked around the markets. But the fun I had there made me realize what I didn’t like about Boo: he made me feel like a commodity. I don’t need to be considered a local, but I’d like to be an observer or participant, rather than a target.
There was no spark, but I’m still intrigued. I’m going on a second date with Boo in the summer and hope that the warmer weather and additional sights will change my mind. If it doesn’t work out, I’m not too worried. I am definitely feelin’ Belgrade.
Mosque on Sunday: Suleymaniye Mosque, Istanbul
This is my second-to-last post about Istanbul. It’s Real Housewife of Belgrade, after all. But the Suleymaniye Mosque deserves special attention. By most accounts, it’s the biggest Mosque in Istanbul. It was designed by Sinan Pasha, a famous Ottoman architect, for Sultan Suleyman.
Sultan Suleyman was the tenth and longest-reigning Sultan of the Ottoman Empire. Under his reign, the Empire conquered parts of Eastern Europe (including Belgrade), the Middle East, and Africa. He also was known as “the lawgiver” because he reformed the Ottoman legal system. Finally, in true US Weekly style, Suleyman broke with tradition to marry a harem girl named Roxelana.
Roxelana was no slouch. She connived to send her harem rival out of Istanbul-with the harem rival’s son, who was heir apparent. Roxelana legally wed the Sultan, raising eyebrows from sea to shining sea. During her time as Hurrem (Sultan’s wife), it’s believed she influenced foreign affairs. Roxelana also may have encouraged the Sultan to kill the son of her former rival, paving the way for her own son to be heir. And I thought the Christina Aguilera rumors were bad. I just love gossip, I mean, history.
For a Sultan of such accomplishment, the mosque’s interior design is restrained. Small and intricate patterns stand out against mostly white walls. The overall effect is grand but peaceful.
We were incredibly lucky to be there in late November, because the mosque has just reopened after a three-year renovation. It’s a “must see” for travelers to Istanbul. While you’re there, be sure to visit Roxelana’s turbe (mausoleum) and honor a Real Housewife of Istanbul.
Istanbul’s gone to the…cats?
You cannot enter...but I can go anywhere I damn please
Belgrade cats are big, healthy and strong. They live off of garbage and whoknowswhat. I haven’t seen a mouse or a rat yet—even by the waterfront. If Belgrade cats had opposable thumbs they’d club you for a tuna fish sandwich.
Istanbul cats are sleek, cute little cats that are used to attention. They’re everywhere-in restaurants, museums and shop windows. Tourists and locals pet them, feed them, and generally let them go wherever they want. The photo above was taken in the Hagia Sophia. After I took it, a tourist bent down to pet him and the cat put his paw in the tourist’s bag, looking for treats. In Belgrade, a cat would glare at you, decide you weren’t worth his time, and stalk a pigeon. A big one.
Why are cats treated like royalty? Maybe it’s their looks. Even Muz noted that Istanbul was Zoolander for cats. I had to agree, they were really, really good-looking. And probably can’t read good.
Dogs aren’t faring too poorly, either. They’re spayed, tagged, and left to roam around the city. Oddly, the dogs aren’t as friendly as the cats—they basically hang out in their territory and wait for vendors to give them food.
Wait, cats get to go INSIDE of buildings?
We knew that cats were “top dog” when we went to an upscale restaurant and noticed cats walking around…inside. We’d seen cats in other European restaurants and decided to ignore them in this one. Until after the meal, when a cat decided Muz was his new best friend and jumped in his lap, purring.
Muz awkwardly petted him (big mistake) and tried to put the cat on the floor. The cat kept jumping back up until we moved a chair to block his passage. What did the waiters do? Nothing. What did I do? Laugh and take this photo. I’m so helpful.
Waiter, the gentleman and I will have desert. Ignore that other human.
Perhaps I’ve underestimated the cats in Istanbul. Belgrade cats might be more intimidating, but Istanbul cats will walk all over you. Literally.
Why did Constantinople Get the Works?
Christian images and arabic mosque proclamations in Hagia Sophia
Hagia Sophia is a perfect symbol of the transition from Constantinople to Istanbul. Plus, you can sing the Istanbul/Constantinople song to your muz until he starts to go insane. I wanted to go immediately.
Hagia Sophia has been a metaphorical ping pong for the region’s political/religious history. It was first built in 360 (no, I’m not missing a number) as an Orthodox cathedral in Constantinople. Between 1204 and 1261, it was converted to a Roman Catholic cathedral as part of the Fourth Crusade. It went back to an Orthodox cathedral until 1453, when Constantinople was conquered by the Ottoman Turks. Immediately after invasion, Hagia Sophia was converted into the Ayasofya Mosque. It remained a mosque until 1934, and was then converted into a museum.
As a museum, it’s a strange but beautful combination of Orthodox and Muslim religions. There’s a minbar, a minaret, and large signs in Arabic, but there are also mosiacs that depict Orthodox religious figures. Islam bans images that represent people, so it’s doubly surprising to see people and another religion represented amidst the arabic signs. The images are relatively true to history-a sultan allowed two men restoring the mosque to document mosiacs before covering them up again.
Covered and uncovered Seraphim faces in Hagia Sophia
The building is also quite beautiful and large, with huge doors, beautiful domes and details that will make a non-historian look up things like the Fourth Crusade. It’s still under renovation, which requires a delicate balance between uncovering Christian icons and preserving historic Islamic art. Either way, Hagia Sophia was certainly as impressive in Constantinople as it was in Istanbul.
A steamy Saturday night in Istanbul
I like to be put on a pedestal, but not with 45 other women simultaneously...
We had talked about going to a hamam-why not this one? Scanning our guidebook, we read that Cemberlitas was one of the oldest and prettiest hamams (check) best enjoyed in the evening (check) after a long, tiring day (check). We hopped off the line and walked in.
The basic idea of a hamam is that you get steamy, someone scrubs enough dead skin off your body to make a Silence of the Lambs suit, and then washes you. Afterward, you can get a massage or just hang out on a hot marble pedestal. Sounds relaxing, right?
It probably IS relaxing. If you’re not there between 5 and 9pm. On a Saturday. When most people are going for the same exact experience.
I walked into the main chamber to find women packed, head to toe, on the pedestal. I couldn’t decide if it was reminiscent of a cattle call or a Cezanne painting. I chose Cezanne, and hopped into one of the two heated pools off the main chamber to get nice and hot. It was less crowded than the pedestal, but when I returned to the main chamber even more people had arrived. I got on the pedestal anyway and waited. Finally, it was my turn. My attendant was good, but clearly rushed. My favorite moment was when she exfoliated my arm and gave a magician-like “aha!” when a ton of skin peeled off. I was shocked. She was beaming.
Afterward, I got a relaxing foamy wash, a perfunctory shampoo and listless massage. It would’ve been nice to stay in the chamber afterward, but all the waiting between treatments meant that I was already 30 minutes late to meet Muz. Fortunately, Muz had a good massage and a less crowded environment.
It wasn’t the Sultan-like treatment I’d hoped for, but I have to admit my skin felt “like buttah” the next day. I’d return to a hamam, even Cemberlitas. But RHOB prefers a steamy Thursday afternoon over a steamy Saturday night. For a hamam, that is.
Drinking Wild, Turkey
Surprisingly, no one offered us Wild Turkey
Muz and I weren’t sure what to expect before we arrived. We wanted to try local wines but figured that the secular but mostly Muslim population wasn’t concerned about wine availability. As it turns out, that shouldn’t be anyone’s concern. Wine is plentiful but the local brands we tried left little to be desired. It was also more expensive than we thought it would be (much like Istanbul in general).
We decided to try local beer instead. Most places offered Efes Pilsner, a Turkish brand headquartered in Istanbul. Once we tried it, we knew that this was a better choice.
We were in the airport on our way home when I realized that we hadn’t tried the true drink of Istanbul: raki. Raki is a liquor made from grapes, figs or plums. It’s flavored with anise seeds and has a distinctive black licorice taste. Muz hates black licorice, so I didn’t mention it to him. And my experience drinking raki taught me that it’s best sipped on a long, hot afternoon when sightseeing is not a priority.
Still, we had to try it in Istanbul. Since we were about to board a plane, we ordered a Raki and a beer in the airport lounge. Muz was surprised by how smooth and light the Raki tasted. He even drank most of it. Next time we travel, we’ll be sure to try the national drink before we’re headed on a flight home. We may have even found our new motto: travel globally, drink locally.
Turkey for Thanksgiving
Thanksgiving was our first full day in Istanbul. We decided to avoid eating a Turkish version of a Thanksgiving meal and hit the streets for inspiration instead.
After giving thanks at the Blue Mosque and Hagia Sophia, we slaked our thirst with fresh-squeezed pomegranate juice outside the Topkapi Palace. It wasn’t quite cranberry sauce, but we didn’t mind.
Pomegranate is the new Cranberry
We then ate corn on the cob that was grilled by a street vendor, pilgrim-style.
Pilgrim-style corn on the cob
Later, we passed by a café displaying heaps of baklava and other treats. We went in for dessert but realized we needed lunch first. We ordered the most (Italian) American thing of all: pizza and beer. We topped off the meal with an embarrassingly large selection of desserts and walked on to the Spice Market.
The Spice Market is a tourist trap; don’t think otherwise. But it’s still fun to walk through the aisles, get a sales pitch every five seconds, and sample wares. I loved the spices, but the Age of the Internet means that I can order them easily. Fresh Turkish delight was another matter. Yum.
Why yes, it does say Turkish Viagra.
After mezzes in the Pera District, we ended the evening with the most American treat we could find: Starbucks. We don’t have Starbucks in Belgrade, or large drinks in general. I caved in and ordered a grande chai latte. We walked through the streets drinking from massive cups like proper Americans. We usually try to fit in with the crowd when travelling, but not on Thanksgiving. Even in Turkey.
(Blue) Mosque on Sunday, Istanbul
Ferry view of Blue Mosque, Old City Istanbul
Central Dome of Blue Mosque
Muz and I know little about mosques, and what we knew about this one was based on a page in our guide book. So we agreed to a tour offered by an older local. Who, it turned out, also knew little about the architecture or history of the place. We decided to go to Wikipedia for the hard facts and asked him about services instead.
The Sultan's lodge in the Blue Mosque
We walked away 10 lira poorer and no smarter about the Blue Mosque, but with a richer understanding of daily prayer for most of Istanbul.
Real Housewife of Belgrade 
