Egyptian Spice Bazaar
The Spice Bazaar is my favourite market in Istanbul, second only in size to the Grand Bazaar. This market was completed and has been open ever since 1660! It’s located in the district of Eminonu, very close to the train station of the last stop of the Orient Express. In the past, this was a major market selling spices from Egypt, hence the name. A bad place to wander around on an empty stomach! We snapped pictures, warded off salespeople, ate our fill of turkish delight and olives, sniffed the perfumes and spices while admiring copper kitchen supplies and tempting souvenirs. We chatted with friendly salesmen and browsed the evil eye assortment while mingling with tourists and Turks alike. Laura bought some sugary peanuts and we shared them as we poked around spices, cheese, sweet sugary things, dried apricots, dates figs, pistachio nuts, seeds and life in the spice market. 
Evil eyes Islam and idols: Everything you need to keep you protected from anything dubious in the spiritual world.
The Grand Bazaar
My eyes were burning with desire, but my wallet was also burning at this point!
This market is a little more touristy, with more touristy prices, but still a treat to visit since it is a labrynth containing 58 different streets and over 4,000 shops selling anything from jewelry, pottery, spice, and carpets to leather goods and old bronze antiques. In all of my visits to Istanbul, I have never bought anything here, because the prices and the pressure to buy are both high. I was on the lookout for a minaret ornament (Spire? minaret thingy? I don’t know the word!) which they quoted me 200 USD in the Grand Bazaar. I bought the same one in another shop for 35 Turkish lira later on. Sharks! But I did buy Rene a beautiful silver pendant to make up for one of the birthdays or Christmases I’ve missed in our absence. The salesman liked her more than me and joked that the price for me was much higher than the price for her! I gave her the money to pay for it and he shook his finger and laughed at us when Rene passed me back the change! Sneaky Sneaky!
My own version of Turkish "where's Waldo". I didn't notice the salesguy till after the photo was taken!
But we enjoyed the wander, a little café in the centre, and the history coating the walls of this bazaar that has undergone numerous changes since it was first completed in 1461 and later enlarged in the 16th Century.
Am I the only one who gets excited over photos like this one?
Topkapi Palace
The palace was home to all of the Ottoman sultans and their giant Harems from 1465 to 1863.It’s my favourite place to visit in Istanbul since it is a place that inspired many a European Romantic paintings of scantily clad Harem girls reclining in piles along the edges of the Harem pool. Also those legndary tales of Sultans dripping in silk, jewels and peacock feathers beheading the masses at whim and of Eunuchs brought to keep guard over the Harem but yielding considerable power and ability to manipulate politics due to their casual access of almost everyone in the palace. This is the ultimate place of mystery, scandal, hedonistic living and a good story that invades the imagination like a fast growing mold.
Ladies in Waiting. (In line.)
Sometimes I marvel at the fact that where I am able to stand today as a tourist would have been a good excuse to separate my head from my body five hundred years ago. At the Topkapi Palace, if this were to happen, I’d have my lovely head stuck on a spike in the public area of the palace as a warning to others not to venture where they weren’t welcomed. Luckily all I was separated from was twenty Turkish Lira to get in.
The grounds are beautiful, and even if you never entered one of the surrounding buildings containing the most exquisite items you’ve ever seen, it would already be worth every penny to run your hands over the blue Iznik tiles of Turkish tulips and arabesques adorning the outside walls, admire the tulips in full bloom, and marvel at the architectural brilliance of the Ottomans.
Topkapi Tulips. The natural kind of treasure.
The first place we visited was the Harem- the home to the Sultan’s mother- (the Sultan Valide), wives,concubines, children and black eunuch slaves. A maze of hundreds of rooms, we were allowed to enter about twenty. Back i the day, no male (oner than the Sultan and the Eunuchs) were allowed anywhere near the harem, and the design reflects that at every turn. A chronicler at the time of Sultan Mehmed the Conqueror wrote, “If the sun had not been a word which in Persian takes the feminine article, even the sun would not be admitted to the harem.”
The Harem Hangout.
The Harem, undoubtedly, the architectural highlight of the museum. A maze of lusciously decorated rooms which were built with hierarchy in mind, we passed through each room trying to get a sense of what life was like there during the Ottoman era. It wasn’t a giant love in like the paintings suggest. The women in the Harem were cutthroat and political about who would bear the Sultan a son- which would put them in line to be the next Valide Sultan, arguably the most important position in the Ottoman empire at times since the Ottoman Princes were known for offing each other to gain power and therefore, often the male heirs were too young to govern properly. So their mothers- the Valide Sultans, often were the puppeteers behind the puppets.
Detail of a marble carving of the Sultan's crest.
Laura and I stood in the long lines snaking through various rooms to see the Jewels of the Sultans, Emeralds, bigger than my fist dripping with ruby and diamond clusters, pearl laden cradles that once held the baby sultans-to-be, ceremonial daggers that would have been an honour to die under on the battlefield, and numerous cut crystal water vessels that would have had a pretty strong Eunuch to wield it in front of the Sultan. I pointed out the jewel encrusted arm and skull of John the Baptist to Laura. “Now you have seen one head of John the Baptist!” I informed her. “Now you need to travel to the Great Mosque of Damascus to see the other head of John the Baptist!” I had been lucky enough to visit both heads on the first trip though the Middle East!
The diamond here is world famous- it was once dragged out of the garbage and sold for three spoons- and hence known as the Spoonmaker’s Diamond. It was also the inspiration and subject for the famous 1960’s movie “Topkapi”. Rumours around Istanbul say a remake of the movie starring Pierce Brosnan will be made here in the next little while.
A sink for ablutions- the ritual prayer wash before Muslims enter the mosque to pray.
Unfortunately, My favourite part of the Topkapi Palace was closed: The relics of the Prophet Mohammad. It’s a peaceful little corner of the grounds which contain such things as Mohammad’s cloak, teeth, and beard hair among other important relics of Christianity as well. A man sits in the corner and recites the Koran from a small booth in the corner which is carried through the museum rooms by a stellar sound system. If you have never heard the Koran being recited, it’s an amazing sound to someone who can’t understand the beautiful Arabic words being spoken. It sounds like a calm lyrical prayer and creates an incredibly peaceful atmosphere around these priceless religious and historical objects.
The Cemberlitas Hamam 1584
Hamam Goers. Once the clothes are off we are all the same in the big marble steamer.
Of all the things to do in Istanbul, a visit to the hamam tops my list and nothing beats the Cemberlitas Hamam built by Sinan the Magnificent, in 1584. Sinan was the chief architect of Selim I, Suleiman I, Selim I, and Selim II and had his hand in either designing, repairing, or adding onto most major structures in Istanbul.
Ornate taps around Eminonu. Each district of istanbul has it's own logo and you can find it on many things like taps, pothole covers and souvenirs.
But aside from the building, with it’s cool marble and perforated beehive shape, the hamam experience itself is one to be relished. We stripped off our clothes in the cozy little change room, donned the plastic slippers and picnic tablecloth like towel, and headed into the inner sanctuary of the hamam. IF we looked lost at all, there were several Turkish women there to point us in the right direction. In the middle of the steamy room, there is a giant convex marble slab, heated for centuries with a slow burning fire underneath that keeps the marble at sloth temperature. Women lay out their towels on the slab and relax, naked allowing the steam to sneak under the dead cells of their skin, loosening the dirt and grime of everyday living.
Tap that! What was that about doing a master's on hardware of the Silk Road?
We knew better than to go relax on the marble slab right away. Hamam experts, we wandered over to one of the little marble rooms off the side and chatted as we dipped copper splashing bowls into marble sinks filling with lukewarm water falling out of ornate taps. Over the head, over the towel, soaking between my toes. Chatting with the ladies, I felt like the hamam is a place where you can really understand what its like to be a woman. Bodies of all shapes and sizes, ages, races, I feel that everyone suffering from any sort of body image problem could shed it along with dead skin in the hamam- Underneath it all, we are all unique and all the same. And in this sort of place everyone is beautiful.
Soon it was time for the scrub and massage. The big ladies came in. I recognized almost all of them from the very first time I went to Cemberlitas. Dressed in underwear, some topless and some with bras that were so stretched out over long wobbly breasts I mused they were more like a boob hammock than a bra. One called me over, dumped a bucket of water over my head and told me to wait. I waited so long I started to get cold. She came back with a bar of olive oil soap and a scrubby and went to work removing my suntan.
Scrub down one side, SLAP! Turn over! Scrub down the back. Stand up. Blasts of buckets of water hitting me at the most inopportune time. My ten minute scrub was over. I felt a little beaten but damn I was clean and relaxed! Thank you, Sinan, for designing such a cool place for me to visit.
Mmmm. A pomegranate and orange juice after a scrub and massage? is there anything better in life?
Buying Carpets
Laura decided to take a look at carpets while we were in Istanbul. Most Turkish carpet sellers are seedy salubrious dodgy characters who either want to part you from your wallet or your pants as quickly as possible. As you pass, they shout out their lines to get your attention: “Excuse me, you are the best!” Or, “Looking for me?”, “I want your babies", “How can I help you spend your money?” ,“Excuse me, may I ask you a question?”, “Are you Turkish delight?”, “Who do you think is more attractive, me or my friend?”, “My goodness is your goodness!” (I have no idea what that means!) ,“How about a carpet? No? How about me?”
My favourite Nargileh Hangout in Istanbul. People chat, smoke , drink tea and play chess here.
But I do know one, who has become a good friend over the years. I had heard Murat, a Kurd who had been dodging the Turkish army conscription for years, had finally been caught and at 28, was forced into the army to train amongst the 21 year old boys. A difficult experience, as the Turkish army sends their troops to fight against Kurds in the East and doesn’t think too highly of draft dodgers, Murat was lucky enough to escape the army without being shot or having to shoot at people he considers his own flesh and blood. 
Me and Murat after lunch in Sultanahmet.
I didn’t think Murat was back from the army yet, so my heart leapt when I turned the corner and saw him, reclining on a pillow next to his cousin in front of the carpet shop, much like the day I