To be fair to Istanbul, I didn’t really want to go there in the first place. I was going to Turkey to go to Cappadocia and so fulfil a life’s ambition, and wasn’t that interested in Istanbul. I don’t really like big cities, and generally find them a bit samey and often a bit soul-destroying.
But I figured that, as long as I was going to Turkey, I should go to Istanbul. I did try to like it.
But my state of mind was not conducive to me enjoying myself: I was a bit sick, and it was the longest that Jo and I had been apart pretty much since we got together so I was a bit lonely.
And it rained constantly the entire time I was there, which does not for enjoyable sightseeing make.
What I’m leading up to is the fact that I really, really hated Istanbul. Hated it with the kind of passion that I usually reserve for poorly written vampire novels or those reality TV shows where people sing because their parents didn’t love them enough.
Yes, I hated it.
Mainly because I couldn’t walk down the street without being hassled by guys. I’ve never felt that I am especially conspicuously pretty (my mum always tells me that I ‘have a lovely air about me’, which I have always taken to mean that I maybe not be beautiful, but at least I don’t actually smell) and I don’t dress particularly provocatively, but in Istanbul I felt as obvious as a Miss World contestant walking down the street in a bikini. Having said that, I don’t think I was approached because of my looks, but because I was obviously a tourist, and obviously on my own. But even when I tried to make myself as blandly unappealing as possible (no makeup, big baggy jumper zipped up to the top, hair in unflatteringly messy ponytail), I was still approached constantly.
It doesn’t sound like much; a guy walks up and asks where you’re from, or if you need directions. Then if you’d like to go and get coffee with him. Then, when you say no and try to walk away, he steps in front of you, leans right into your face and says insistently ‘where are you going? I’m talking to you’, occasionally physically stopping you from leaving. It isn’t that big a deal when it happens once, and I’m not one to be intimidated by the odd guy who can’t take a hint. But when, several times an hour, a man would appear from somewhere when I stopped to check my map or to take a photo and tried to chat me up, it started to grate. There’s just something really invasive about being constantly approached. I suppose that lots of people find it all very jolly and good fun, but I just got sick and tired of it.
The worst was when a guy ended up following me around one afternoon, then finding me again the next morning. I ended up going up to a couple from New Zealand in the Blue Mosque and explaining my situation (ever so slightly tearfully) and asking them for help. They were amazing, and hustled me out and away from the guy before he realised what was going on, for which I am eternally grateful.
I suppose I should try and focus on the good things. I did meet a lot of really lovely Turkish people. I ate amazing food, including kebabs and gozleme of a quality that would make the average purveyor of food court Turkish food hang their heads in shame. My hotel was nice. I discovered ayran, which is delicious. I saw a man kiss a duck and tell it he loved it;
And I was suitably awestruck by the Aya Sofia, though it was really hard to take a picture of the interior that does justice to the sheer scale of the place;
the Blue Mosque,
and the Basilica Cistern. This is a huge underground reservoir, which at one time served as a source of water to the citizens of Istanbul, but which ended up being used as a garbage dump and fishpond until it was rediscovered and cleaned up. It was my favourite place in Istanbul, with the possible exception of the Spice Market (more later), and it is astonishingly peaceful.
For reasons that no one really seems to know, some of the pillars right in the back of the reservoir have these beautifully carved Medusa heads at their bases. It seems so poignant that someone would have put in the effort required to make them, only for them to sit in the dark, underwater, unseen for hundreds of years;
And there were cats;
So it wasn’t all bad. But I feel that I can cross Istanbul off my list now. I don’t need to go there again, though I would like to see more of Turkey.
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