Before my first Hamman experience, I wish I’d learned a few Turkish phrases beyond the usual niceties. Things like “Ouch!” “That’s hot!” "I can’t get up!" "Not so hard!" and eventually, “Um. Thank you. That was amazing.”
Our tour guide the day before highly recommended the Cemberlitas Hammam. It was built in 1584 and was unique at that time because of its austere interior. He promised they offered a very authentic experience. As in this was not some fancy tourist spa - this was the real deal. So Michael and I made an appointment to mark our last day in Istanbul. I’ll tell you more about that experience later.
We arrived at the new Istanbul Airport, about an hour's drive outside the city center. Our Airbnb host had given us specific instructions on how to take a taxi to his apartment. It even included a recorded message with explicit directions that we were to play for the driver. He also asked us to turn on our location finder in WhatApp so he could keep an eye on our progress.
Istanbul is a sprawling metropolis full of ultra-modern skyscrapers, iconic bridges, and slick new freeways that sit alongside ancient streets the width of a donkey cart, structures over 1,000 years old, and nearly 16 million humans of every kind, color, and creed that call this city home. It is a fascinating place.
Our Airbnb was a five-minute walk from the Galata Tower, a 500-year-old beacon that sits on a hill and marks the center of the old town. That meant our taxi driver would have to negotiate narrow medieval streets while maneuvering around gawking pedestrians. He was having difficulty finding our address, so he got on the phone with our host and stayed on the call for at least fifteen minutes. After we’d made the same loop three times, Michael asked if it would be best if we got out and walked, but our driver would not give up. He finally found the building and didn’t run up the meter, so Michael tipped him well.
The building itself is over 100 years old, but the apartment had been nicely renovated in January of 2020, turning it into a very sophisticated two-bedroom home. The owner kept the original wood doors and floors, but everything else was updated with a Mid-Century vibe. The ceilings are high, but the walls were painted in dusky shades of ochre and blue, and the tall windows draped in dark blue velvet either faced outer walls or the courtyard, so at times it felt a little dark inside. But the trendy light fixtures made up for that.
The kitchen had everything you could ask for, including stylish Russell & Hobbs appliances and more than enough brand new cookware and dishes to please the fussiest of cooks. The bed linens were divine. The shower was powerful. And the Smart TV was huge. Ultimately, it is a very refined man cave.
The Beyoglu neighborhood surrounding Galata Tower is full of great shops, restaurants and cats.
We’ve been to Istanbul a few times now, but this visit was our best. We loved the Beyoglu neighborhood, and even though one of Istanbul's major tourist attractions was a five-minute walk away, we still felt tucked away from tourists.
My Duolingo Turkish lessons were beginning to pay off! I made friends with the owner of the little corner grocery shop just by using a few phrases - it really does make a difference. In other parts of Europe, an area like this would be filled with hip bars, but because this is a Muslim country we were surrounded by hip coffee bars instead - and they were full all day long. There were plenty of unique shops, artist studios, and quirky vintage stores on every street as well - I’ve never seen so many vintage Hawaiian shirts!
We enjoyed a leisurely morning with our Airbnb host Selcuk. He looks after several listings in the area so if you are interested you can click the link to our Airbnb and then check out other listings under the hosts profile.
We were also close to Isistik Boulevard, the busiest pedestrian shopping street in the city - sometimes referred to as the Champ de Elysee of Instanbul. I don’t know if I’d go that far, but it certainly is a bustling two-mile stretch of enticing shops and restaurants punctuated by street performers and cart vendors. The only thing that parts the sea of pedestrians is an old-fashioned red tram that slowly makes its way along a track in the middle of the street.
As always, we took a free walking tour. It turned out to be one of the best we’ve ever taken. Our guide Yanus was knowledgeable and engaging - something you have to admire when you learn he does two tours a day most days of the week. In fact, he was so good we took a second tour from his company that focused on food and culture.
Be sure and carry a scarf and cover your arms if you plan to visit Mosques - although I had forgotten mine and found this very nice orange shawl for sale outside the Haggia Sofia for just $3.
We are fortunate to have a couple of family friends living in Istanbul, so we get to experience the city from their perspective as well. These two women joined our family as Au Pairs in 1990 and 1991 when we lived in London. Fatma was first and stayed with us for a year. Sevim followed her and also stayed for a year. They became beloved members of our family and we’ve kept in touch over the years.
Sevim took us out for a traditional lunch at the top of the Radisson Blu Pera hotel where we seemed to eat non-stop for two hours. The restaurant Hamdi Kepap is famous for its Kebap - the ubiquitous national dish of meat grilled on skewers. We started with a delicious Meza of different spreads and roasted vegetables followed by platefuls of richly spiced kabap grilled to perfection. Everything was served with fresh flatbread and a fistful of fresh herbs, sliced tomatoes, and zippy red onions. Our favorite was the ground sirloin with chopped pistachio nuts. The view over the city was panoramic, but it was a rainy afternoon, so we didn’t get to appreciate it - but it was hard to take our eyes off of lunch anyway.
A few days later, Fatma and her husband Sungur drove us to the Asian side of the city to Sembol Ocakbas, a restaurant set high on a hill overlooking the Bosphorus. Once again, kebaps were the star-of-the-show, but the restaurant itself was the first act. There was more gold on display than you’d find in a Sultan's palace. Gold lamps, gold walls, gold chandeliers, gold trim on the plates, and to top things off, a dazzling golden glow from the setting sun.
It was a sprawling space with indoor and outdoor seating - although everyone was indoors since the weather was chilly, and every table was full at 5:00. There were private prayer rooms where devout Muslims could enjoy dining out without missing their evening ritual. Both Fatma and her husband Sungur excused themselves from the table to pray for a few minutes. We didn't look, but I doubt you could order an alcoholic beverage at this particular Muslim-friendly establishment.
Of course, we weren’t allowed to contribute a single lire for either of these extravagant meals. All we could do was sit back and allow Sevim, and then Fatma and Sungur to order whatever they thought we would enjoy. We had to be careful - if we mentioned we liked a particular dish, we had to firmly convince them not to order a second plate of that dish. We didn’t try as hard when it came to dessert.
There is no such thing as too much hospitality in Turkey. In another example, I reminisced over lunch about how much we loved Sevim’s cooking, especially the apple pies she used to make for us 30 years ago, and sure enough, two days later, she was at our door with a freshly baked pie.
During our stay, there was a first division football match that Michael really wanted to attend. He reached out to Sungur to see if he could help get tickets and to be his guest. Sungur, Fatma’s husband, had never been to a football match, so he wasn’t sure how to go about helping, but he was bound and determined to make it happen. As it turned out, there were several hoops to jump through, including getting a special pass that allowed you to purchase a ticket. That involved sharing a lot of personal information, but Michael went ahead and became a Passo cardmember. Now he was directly in the sites of “Big Brother” - so if he attended the match and was disruptive in any way, they could track him down by his ticket number and haul him off to jail. Then he needed to apply for a HESS pass that generated a barcode to prove he was vaccinated against Covid. Again, a lot of personal information was handed over to President Erdogan.
Michael didn’t get a ticket to the football match, but he did get a delicious Doner from his favorite stand.
In the end, it was all for nothing. At the last minute, Sungur learned that foreigners would not be allowed to purchase tickets. On the night of the match, Michael, ever the optimist, went to the stadium to plead his case in person, hoping someone would let him in. He tried at two different ticket booths, pantomiming tears of disappointment, but he was turned away both times. It was probably for the best because Turkish football fans are a pretty aggressive bunch and in fact, there were instances of fans hurling things at the opposing team and setting off flares. And it was raining. I was happy to have him home and safe.
Our metro passes worked on the ferry boats as well as buses and trams. Riding on different ferry routes is a great way to see the city from the water for the price of a metro ticket.
We also had to turn over a lot of personal details to get a pass that allowed you to use public transport. This was under the guise of Covid safety, but it seemed to us a bit of government overreach. Sevim helped Michael get this HESS pass when he was applying for football tickets, but I didn't have one. Eventually, a transit supervisor took pity on me and gave me a comp pass to use for the week. Without them, we wouldn’t have been able to ride the trams and busses or take a ferry.
Michael’s pass didn't work for some reason at the entry to a tram station, and despite several strangers trying to help, he couldn’t get past the barrier. Meanwhile, I was already on the platform. So at the spry age of 76, Mr. Campbell flouted the rules and ducked under the turnstile bar! That got a big round of applause from a group of young men standing nearby.
We joined the crush of tourists pushing through the Grand Bazaar and the Spice Market where we encountered a riotous mix of color and exotic smells. I wanted to go slowly and look at everything but the vendors trying to cajole us into their shops (some rather aggressively) became overwhelming. After a while, we’d just smile and say “hyir tesekkuler” (no thanks) and carry on.
It's easy to get lost in the markets twisting passages and the crowded halls specializing in one thing or another - rugs, lamps, sweets, spices, furs, and even a boisterous currency market, so just turn yourself over to the experience, and eventually, you'll get swept to an exit.
Traditional Turkish delight in the foreground and my new favorite treat, Lokum sits just behind.
I didn’t think I liked Turkish sweets because they are in fact too sweet. But I discovered a kind of Turkish delight shaped in a log called Lokum and fell in love. They are a log-shaped roll with a soft, often nutty chewy, center rolled in toasted nuts. Like all Turkish candy and desserts, the sweetness is meant to balance out the strong tea and coffee preferred here. Turkish Apple Tea was another great discovery.
After we’d done the markets, toured the Bosporus, taken our walking tours, and enjoyed time with friends, including coffee with our dapper Airbnb host, it was time for the Hamam experience I alluded to earlier.
We found the unassuming entrance to the bathhouse and I was led to the ladies' quarters and Michael was escorted to the men’s section. I was given a locker, a robe, a pair of flip flops, and a useless paper g-string.
Soon a sturdy-looking, five-foot-tall matron in a flowery green housecoat barrelled toward me. She grabbed me firmly by both hands while exclaiming “Hello! Hello Pretty lady!” Then she led me to a large open room where a giant marble slab took up most of the space. The only light streamed down from round holes carved high in the domed ceiling.
She spoke almost no English, so after she took off my robe she indicated I was to lie face down on the slick, circular surface. She pushed my body flat and ordered me to “Stay!” And then she left.
You couldn’t take pictures inside the spa for obvious reasons, but I found these images of the men’s experience that give you an idea of what the process looked like for both genders.
I was not alone - three other women were lying nearby also afraid to move. We were left to sweat in the steamy semi-darkness with only the drip, drip, drip from ancient faucets to mark the time. After ten interminable minutes, my attendant arrived. I knew this because she introduced herself by sluicing an entire bucket of very hot water across my backside. Startled, I turned to the source and it was my same escort - only this time she was practically naked - wearing nothing but a big smile and an ill-fitting pair of underpants. I quickly returned to my face down position! I could go into more detail, but suffice it to say I was tossed, turned, scrubbed, rubbed, and occasionally swatted with two large breasts until I could only gasp.
I would have taken an armload of Turkish towels and a robe home. If I had a home.
But after it was all over, and I was wrapped snugly in my robe with a glass of hot tea, I felt invigorated, and my skin was as soft as a baby’s bottom. All for just $30 (including a mud facial mask). Michael met me in the lobby with a similar dazed but satisfied expression on his face. It was the perfect ending to our week in Istanbul.
Thanks for following along,
Debbie and Michael Campbell
p.s. From Istanbul we spent time in Nice, Avignon, and Perpignon, France. Currently, we are in Lagos, Portugal.