If you’re coming to Istanbul, you can find these guys at www.secondhomehostel.com or through common booking sites like Hostel World and Trip Advisor. We recommend it!

p.s. — This video is dedicated to Ben and Pen Clark. Thanks for hooking it up guys!

Related posts:

1. The Basilica Cistern in Istanbul, Turkey
2. Everyday Istanbul
3. “The Truth” about Istanbul

One of the photos I took in February and posted on this blog is a finalist in a photo contest over at IstanbulEats.com. Please vote for my pic here, by emailing istanbuleats3@gmail.com with the subject heading “Turkey Vote Chris Simit”.

There are some good photos entered, so I don’t really expect to win, but the prizes include dinner in Istanbul, and since we are heading back that way in a few weeks, you’ll be helping to feed some hungry travelers. They ask you to only vote once. The contest closes on the 18th of May, so go vote now (and tell your friends)!

Thanks!

Chris

p.s. — Simit are the type of Turkish bread rings the vendor in the photo is pushing around.

p.p.s. — We are almost certainly still out in the desert when this post gets published (I set it up to publish while we were in Marakesh. Talk to you all soon!)

Related posts:

1. Second Home Hostel, Istanbul, Turkey
2. “The Truth” about Istanbul
3. The Basilica Cistern in Istanbul, Turkey

Man with birds. Roma.

I hate when people ask me if I’m a photographer.

Sometimes it’s the gear that prompts this. They see the expensive looking camera, or maybe pick up my kit for a moment and are taken aback by how heavy it is. “Whoa! You must be a photographer.” Maybe it’s the final shots that have them whoa-ing, but the gear still takes centre-stage: “You’re camera takes great pictures!”

But no, the reason I hate when people ask me if I’m a photographer is because I’m not sure what to say. On the one hand, I most certainly am. I’ve shot weddings, portraiture, and used my photography as the foundation of several paid graphic design projects. I’ve been paid money to shoot. Simple. But on the other hand, I feel like I’m not really a photographer at all. To date, photography has only been a small part of what I do, and after more than ten years looking through a series of increasingly expensive lenses, I’m still not really doing the kind of photography that has always inspired me the most.

All of my favourite photographers are documentary photographers. The famous black and white street scenes of Henri Cartier-Bresson. The blisteringly visceral war photography of James Nachtwey. The artfully realized wedding work of Jeff Ascough.

Their subjects vary considerably, as well as their styles, but there is a thread of consistency among this type of work that transcends stylistic differences. Unlike fashion photography, most forms of portraiture, and pretty much anything done in a studio, quality documentary work is basically true, at least from the photographer’s point of view. They don’t have the luxury or inclination to ask their subjects to turn a bit to the left, or take a few steps back or find a more flattering angle. Their raw material is only what’s there at a given moment; the light as the camera can record it. Their medium is the world itself.

Every artist has the power to manipulate their audience, and documentary photographers are no different. But compared to a painter who can create whole worlds with the strokes of his brush, or a sculptor who can destroy with the driving bite of her chisel, the documentary photographer’s tool box is much more restricted. His only means of manipulating the final image is to choose what to include in or exclude from the frame; what to focus on, what sort of mood to imbue through lighting, composition, focal length. And while the simplest of these tools can still be very powerful means of manipulation, they do not carry the god-like creative potential of other mediums. Some might think this to be a limitation, but for me it has always been photography’s greatest strength. Art is about interpreting the world around us; recording what we see, sharing how we feel. Documentary photography does this in the most literal way possible. To me, this is the main attraction of the photographic medium, and the ideal I have always aspired to in my own style.

I certainly can’t claim to be a photographer on the same level as those mentioned above. More than anyone, I am aware of just how far my work falls short of where I’d like it to be, and this is why I struggle with the dreaded question. But I am a photographer, and although I am not where I want to be in terms of development or recognition, I am proud of how far I’ve come. One of my biggest goals during our travels is to challenge myself photographically, to think in terms of projects not just individual shots, and to push myself outside of my own comfort levels while behind the camera. Street photography is one way to do this, but it’s not the only way.

I am a photographer; one who is becoming surer and surer that this work is and will continue to be a large part of my professional life.

Man with bandage. Istanbul.

Woman on cell phone. Roma.

Mother and daughter. Istanbul.

Walking man. Roma.

Three ladies. Roma.

Street performer. London.

Busy street at sunset. Roma.

Young tour guide. Tloss, Turkey.

Commuter. Istanbul.

Man on bike. Lanciano.

Teenage couple. Roma.

Young woman. Roma.

Couple kissing. Roma.

Man on ferry. Istanbul.

Related posts:

1. 24 hours in Roma
2. Lanciano, Laura’s old stomping grounds
3. Easter Procession

The second gate into Topkapi Palace. Today it is the main admission gate into the museum.

Topkapi Palace located in Istanbul, was the headquarters for the Ottamen Empire for more then 400 years. Today it is a museum. When we went it cost 20 Turkish Lira per person, and if we wanted to go into the Harem it would cost an additional 15 Turkish Lira per person. The ticket for entering the Harem has to be bought once you are inside the Topkapi Palace.

The palace is constructed around a series of courtyards, all of which are very beautiful and peaceful. The first courtyard is free of charge. In Ottoman days this courtyard was open to all, but in order to walk through the gate into the second courtyard you had to be some sort of dignitary (see the photo above of the second gate).

Only the sultan and his family could enter this gate. Through it were the private (i.e. circumcision room) and residential areas of the palace. The gate was used for special ceremonies, accession and to perform the funeral service of the sultan. Today tourists flock through it and attempt to take photos of kittens in front of it, like our infamous Chris, center stage.

Within this courtyard for dignitaries and officials is the courtroom where the men took care of the Empires official matters. Apparently the sultan use to sit behind a mesh screen and listen to the discussions and debates, pretending as if he was a fly on the wall and no one knew of his presence. However, it was known for him to sometimes speak up and completely overrule the decision of all those in the room. I found it quite comical to imagine it happening.

The gold, mesh rectangle in the center of this photo is the screen behind which the sultan would secretly listen to the discussions and debates of the Ottoman Empires officials.

aOne of the many detailed designs found on the ceiling of a room in Topkapi Palace.

The attention to detail in Topkapi Palace is remarkable.

This is the interior of a building called the Baghdad Kiosk, located in the residential area of the sultan. It is an excellent example of the famous blue Iznik tiles and mother-of-pearl inlay found throughout Ottoman architecture in Turkey.

The most magnificent things housed in Topkapi Palace are the jewels, like the worlds fifth largest diamond which was originally traded for three spoons giving it the nickname, Spoonmaker’s Diamond. The collection also has some of the worlds largest and most pristine emeralds found on the Topkapi Dagger which had a movie (1964) made about it called, Topkapi. But, as you can imagine, we were not aloud to take photos of such precious items.

Related posts:

1. Aya Sophia: up close and personal
2. Troy, it’s real
3. Laura wants to share lots of random photos with you

Chris and Laura in front of Aya Sophia.

Many shops like this one are scattered throughout the tourist area of Sultanahmet.

The Grand Bazaar’s shops are filled with jewellery, purses, lamps and other trinkets like apple tea, Turkish delight and shawls. Yet among this all, between the carpets and the lamps, was a small group of men enjoying a game of backgammon.

I can only imagine that participating in prayer in the Blue Mosque would be a very special moment. It is a glorious mosque.

Cats are everywhere in Turkey. This kitten found a nice napping spot on a shops display cushions. So cute.

Kebap. There are many different kinds of kebaps, and luckily so when daily it becomes our lunch and dinner.

Related posts:

1. “The Truth” about Istanbul
2. The Basilica Cistern in Istanbul, Turkey
3. Finally heading east from Istanbul

The Lonely Planet Turkey travel guide suggests the Cagaloglu Hamami, the Cemberlitas Hamami and the Yesildirek Hamami. The first two range from 80–100 Turkish Lira for the full Turkish bath experience, which is a steam room, a bathing and a massage. The third, Yesildirek Hamami, is a gay hamami which costs 30 Turkish Lira. A staff member at our hostel suggested we go to one called Sultanahmet Hamami which only costs 40 Turkish Lira for the full-deal. It’s also just up the main street from the Blue Mosque and Aya Sophia which is very close to our hostel.

The Turkish bath house called Sultanahmet Hamami in Istanbul, Turkey.

Only seconds after entering the door and seeing a white guy sitting in nothing more then two towels in the main foyer, Chris and I were ushered into a narrow change room, together. “Take off clothes. Hang there. Put on towel.” the man simply said has he pointed and then shook one of the thin, red plaid towels. We had both brought our bathing suits and towel not knowing what to expect. Leaving our swimming suits behind we proceeded to only wrap the thin towels around ourselves. But the Turkish bath towel was too small! So, I wrapped my own towel around my waist and their towel around my top. Perfect, problem solved.

We stepped out of the change room. Immediately a large serious looking man grunted in disapproval and one of the women started to shake her head and wave her hands. “No, no, no”, she said, as she tugged on my bottom towel. “Um, it’s too short.” I said. Within seconds I was taken to a closet full of more thin, plaid towels. My fingers had barely grasped it when a second lady ushered me towards a low wooden door. “Lady, come.” I followed her, glancing over my shoulder at Chris, not knowing what was happening or where he’d be taken.

I ducked through the door, through a little hall, then another door just in time to see my guide disappear behind a door that read, ‘MEN’. I hesitated. Being specifically told before coming to the bath that it was segregated, men and women, I wasn’t so sure I should follow. My guide stuck her head back out the door, “Lady, come.”

Just before my glasses completely fogged-up from the humidity, I managed to see there were no men in the room. In the center of the room was a large, flat marble slab about 2-feet high. She patted it at the same time the door swung open and Chris came in. We laid down, belly up, side-by-side on the warm marble. Relaxed, we looked up at the spiral-dome shaped ceiling and the many sinks within the room. Singing echoed through the bath. It grew louder until the door opened and like an ear drum clearing from a flight, the singing was loud and clear has the man walked around us. He ushered for Chris to sit on the floor by one of the sinks and started dumping water on Chris’s head with a bowl.

The door swung open, “Lady come.” After ducking through two low-framed doors she stopped, turned to me and tugged on my towel. “Oh sure,” I thought “Why the hell not?” I let her grab my towel, which left me butt naked in the humidity of the Turkish bath. We walked down a short tunnel-like hallway into a private chamber. In the center was a marble bed with two sinks behind it. She put my towel on the marble and mimed for me to lay belly down. She left the room and came back in nothing else then her black panties. “Um?”, I thought, “She’s a lot thinner and younger then the lady I remember when I went to a Turkish bath in 1999 when I visited Turkey with my parents and two friends. Only that time I wore my bathing suit and there were no private chambers.”

She pored hot water all over me, took something that looked like a giant pillowcase, swung it back and forth a few times and then squeezed it over top of me. Mounds of soft, white bubbles heaped on top of my body almost a foot high. After rubbing my legs and arms with her bare hands, she tied a scrub pad onto her hand and managed to remove all my dead skin, plus a couple of layers of live skin on my shoulders. The process continued to the other side ending with bowl after bowl of water being dumped on me before she gave my towel back and ushered me back into the men’s chamber. Chris and I looked at each other and back up at the spiral dome-shaped ceiling as we relaxed, yet again, on the hot marble floor.

The most difficult part of the Turkish bath experience was peeling ourselves off the marble to leave. The most enjoyable, besides absolute relaxation, was seeing the expressions and uneasiness of the fresh tourists entering the bath. I found their conservative body language interesting because outside the bath house they might view Turkey as conservative relative to their country, but inside the bath house they were the conservative ones. Lastly, just has a heads-up, it is common for bath houses to mix tourists instead of segregating them.

This is an experience that definitely should not be missed, and one that we fully intend on doing throughout Turkey.

Related posts:

1. Turkish Food — Part 2: Lunch!
2. Crossing the border from Turkey into Iran
3. Aya Sophia: up close and personal

The cistern is supported by 336, 9-meter tall marble columns. Istanbul used the cistern to store as much as 100,000 tones of water. They most likely used the Roman aqueduct, as well as newer constructed aqueducts to transport the water the 19 kilometers from the Belgrad forest to the cistern.

The Basilica Cistern, Istanbul, Turkey

In fact, the cistern is featured in the James Bond movie “From Russia with Love”. When the movie was shot the cistern was not open to the public. However on September 9, 1987 after renovations, removal of 50,000 tons of mud and the construction of a wooden walkway for vistors to make their way through the cistern, it was open to all local and foreign visitors. Today there is even a small restaurant in the cistern with a small circular stage. It could be quite the wedding venue!

I had no idea what to expect upon entering the cistern. Even though Chris and I had just watched “From Russia with Love” about three months before, I had not made the connection. After paying 10 New Turkish Lira each (about $7.40 Canadian) we curved around the corner and found ourselves at the top of stairs overlooking a dark, open underground space. Columns reached off into the distance.

It isn’t very often you get to stand eye level with the Corinthian and Ionic tops of columns, but there I was parallel with them. I stood for a second, my mouth hanging open in awe, and then I descended the very staircase Chris believes was used for the shot in the James Bond movie.

You look out into the darkness, the columns highlighted with reddish-orange light shining on each of their bases. A sweet, but sorrow-felt music drifts in the air. The humidity softly touches your face. A drop of water pats onto your head. Fish, from 6 inches to 1.5 feet slowly undulate in the shallow water and you think to yourself, “Do they expect me to feed them? Do people feed them? Or, is that fish just taking a break?”

Ripples expand away from the columns, near and far from you.They are from the drops of water falling from the ceiling. Strangely, the ceiling looks dry. You find a calm area and notice the reflection of the columns in the shallow water.

One of two Medusa heads found in the cistern used as the base of a column. Istanbul, Turkey.

Two columns have Medusa heads for bases. One is upside down and one is on its right cheek. They would have been underwater when the cistern was in use and when they were placed there, so Chris and I hypothesize, they were put there for practical, functional reasons. They needed something to support the pillars, they had the two heads and they fit, so they used them. At the same time, it is possible the the workers did not put them upright because of superstition. Nonetheless, who wants to look Medusa in the face anyways?

Medusa head used for the base of a column in the cistern. Istanbul, Turkey.

The cistern is well worth the 10 New Turkish Lira. If you get the chance to visit, take your time and walk through the columns slowly and try to use all your senses in your observation of its uniqueness.

Laura and Chris trying out some self photography in the cistern.

Related posts:

1. Second Home Hostel, Istanbul, Turkey
2. Everyday Istanbul
3. The Turkish Bath Towel Was Too Small

Street vendors of all types ply their wares where they please. Shortly before this was taken, this fellow swapped one of his sweet pastries for a banana from another vendor. Makes sense to me.

Our friend Colin has been pestering us to show “the truth” of the places we visit, rather than the stuff you can find in “any art history text book.” He wants to see the gutters, poverty, deprivations of every kind. Mostly that’s just his own twisted personality, but it presents some problems. Turkey is simply not that depraved. Yes, there are issues. There is unemployment. There is poverty by Western standards. But in a country that is 99% Muslim, there is a definite lack of depravity.

This isn’t Vancouver’s East Side. There are no overt drug or alcohol addicts. Even young Turks prefer to drink tea or juice when they go out to hit the down. Crime is minimal, and tends to be of a mild “fleece the foreigners” variety. On the whole, Istanbul has presented the type of warm hospitality Turkey has long been known for, blighted occasionally by the fact that everyone is trying to sell you something. Sure, sometimes this hospitality is more sincere than others (our hostel staff for instance, have been honestly helpful and welcoming, even cooking us dinner one night). Often it is little more than a remnant of a simpler time or an act meant to fulfill visitors’ expectations. After all, in a country that gets over 30 million visitors per year, it’s simply not practical for the average Turk to treat every one he meets as a “visitor from God.” Unfortunately, with tourism on this scale, the authenticity of traditional Turkish culture and hospitality is bound to wane, at least in major centers like Istanbul. That said, we have had meaningful exchanges with a number of Turks already, learning something about them, sharing something about us. This doesn’t happen in most countries, where foreigners are treated politely but distantly.

I did mean it literally when I said that everyone is trying to sell you something. In a country with unemployment issues, an influx of foreign tourist capital, and extremely lax regulations on business dealings, everyone is an entrepreneur. Turkish free-market entrepreneurship makes Alberta look like a communist state. Old ladies in traditional dress sit in the public squares hocking packets of tissues or bowls of bird seed to feed the flocks of pigeons. Each morning, old men carefully lay out displays of their merchandise (old leather shoes, rotary dial telephones, ancient calculators, circuit boards), setting up shop where they please and moving it when the grass looks greener elsewhere. Younger men might become “touts,” the charming but aggressive salesmen who hang out in busy places imploring passersby to follow them to a nearby carpet or leather shop. Don’t need a carpet or leather jacket? That’s fine, they also know a a great hotel, the best Turkish bath, and the perfect place to find an authentic hookah.

This man is selling razors. Try to imagine a street vendor in Calgary or Vancouver trying to sell razors or bars of soap. I can’t imagine it either.

These touts get a kickback for bringing customers in the door, and who can blame them for trying? Indeed, that statement sums up the Turkish attitude to a lot of things. If a man can make some money by selling junk on a street corner, why should anyone care to stop him? If a tout can waggle a sale out of a naive tourist flush with cash, why shouldn’t he?

Bargaining and prices are based on the same principal. While it can be off-putting to a Westerner, used to firm, clearly-established prices, the Turkish need to haggle is firmly rooted in both tradition and common-sense. Discussing and agreeing on a price is not just a way to show mutual respect, it is a tacit acknowledgement that the transaction involves mutually competing interests. It is a way for both sides to personalize the transaction, and to come away from the deal feeling each got a fair shake. It’s not a way to swindle, but rather a way to push for a better deal. If a Turk can take advantage of a Westerner, inexperienced in this type of transaction, and get a bit more for their product or service than they would from a fellow Turk, why shouldn’t they? This has already happened to Laura and I a few times, although we are getting more savvy about the whole thing.

Lamps for sale in the Grand Bazaar. Largely geared to tourists and visitors, the Grand Bazaar is nonetheless not to be missed. With over 4,000 shops under one roof, it apparently has more “stores” than any mall in the world.

In Canada, this type of truly free market street commerce would be completely regulated, requiring expensive permits and driving many of these people out of business. Those who could afford a permit would face the inevitable ‘not-in-my-backyard’ mentality so prevalent in North America, being driven into specific locations far away from the actual dollars and cents of their potential customers.

Meanwhile, well-to-do Turks might actually own a storefront, where they will typically specialize in one type of merchandise, or try to sell anything and everything. Whole neighbourhoods are dedicated to a single ware; we’ve walked down a street where every shop sold types of scales (digital scales, analogue scales, bathroom scales, industrial scales), another where every storefront was stacked with safes. There are shopping districts for camera gear, art supplies, clothing, shoes, leather goods, fresh produce, and spices, among other things. Of course, tourist trinkets and souvenirs are both found in dedicated areas and sprinkled throughout the city. The ubiquitous kebab stand, with its rotating spit of chicken or lamb is dotted throughout this landscape as well, selling tasty meat and veggie sandwiches for about $1.50 CDN.

Turkey’s answer to Home Depot. Shops will either specialize in one type of product, or try to sell anything and everything.

Istanbul is Turkey’s largest city (though not its capital, as many believe; Ankara is), and certainly the most visited place in the country. We are staying in Sultanahment, Istanbul’s old city center, which is also its most touristy neighbourhood. I guess we’ll have to wait until we get out of the city to see how well these impressions hold up for the country as a whole. Turkey has a population of over 70 million; twice the size of Canada. It is also far more ethnically and geographically diverse than a person would at first assume. Give us a month here, Colin, and I’m sure the picture will change.

Mosques dot the Istanbul skyline, and are a much more vibrant and integrated part of Muslim life than churches tend to be in Christendom. With prayer five times a day, the Mosque is a social space as well as a spiritual one.

Ablutions before prayer.

Tea break: Turks drink tea virtually in lieu of water.

Istanbul’s notoriously congested traffic.

The main thoroughfare of Istanbul’s Grand Bazaar.

Major historic tourist sites are part of “the truth” too, Colin. Aya Sofia.

The “Egyptian” Spice Bazaar and its environs are far more authentically Turkish than the Grand Bazaar. We passed through here on a Saturday afternoon and it was completely thronged with people picking up food, spices, and other meal-related things. The crowds were thicker on an average Saturday than I’ve ever been subjected too at the Calgary Stampede. This was taken once we escaped the crush.

Related posts:

1. Everyday Istanbul
2. The Basilica Cistern in Istanbul, Turkey
3. Istanbul Eats Photo Competition

One day while a Turkish man ploughed his field, he found this and two other marble urns buried, but overflowing with gold. With that, he pronounced himself a sultan, and as a kind gesture to the current sultan he gave the urn seen above (empty of gold, I might add). Years after the urns were found, one was gifted to England and the other could be found in one of the Turkish baths.

Aya Sophia, Istanbul, Turkey

Aya Sophia’s main dome, Istanbul, Turkey

Aya Sophia, Istanbul, Turkey

Aya Sophia, Istanbul, Turkey

Aya Sophia, Istanbul, Turkey

Aya Sophia, Istanbul, Turkey

Related posts:

1. Aya Sofia
2. Everyday Istanbul
3. Topkapi Palace (Topkapi Sarayi)

Aya Sofia was built about 1500 years ago by the Byzantine Emperor Justinian, and served as the most important church in Christendom for about 900 years before being converted into a mosque by the Ottomans in 1453. Even after all this time it is still impressive.

Suffice it to say, we are in Istanbul. I have a feeling Laura will have more to say about the Aya Sofia, so I’ll just put up some pics for now.

Yes, Mom, we’re still alive.

The exterior, with Laura channeling Johnny Cash (center-left).

The original Byzantine mosaics were plastered over by the Ottomans in order to abide by Islamic rules against displaying human images in a place of worship. The mosaics remained covered for 500 years before being partially exposed and restored by American archeologists in the 20th century. Currently, you can see small portions of them, such as this “Deesis” mosaic, which depicts a scene from Judgement Day, and is inlaid with what looks like gold. That’s Jesus pictured above, by the way.

A view from the upper balcony. Note the worker on the scaffolding. Istanbul is the “2010 European Capital of Culture.” Not sure what that means exactly, but I assume the restoration work going on now is at least partially related to that distinction and the influx of tourists and VIP visitors it will entail.

Ahhh, it’s our friend the worker again. Safety First! He’s only about 150 feet above an unforgiving marble floor...

Some interested visitors and their guide.

This fellow was also clearly impressed by the size of the place. The golden archway at the bottom-right is a mihrab, which serves to orient worshippers in the direction of Mecca. The mosaic at the top is a remnant from when this place was a church.

Related posts:

1. Aya Sophia: up close and personal
2. Topkapi Palace (Topkapi Sarayi)
3. Everyday Istanbul