Turkish Bath

Istanbul is a connecting place of the western and the eastern. I imagined it being very much a Muslim city before I arrived for a business meeting.  It showed me its multiple facets quite blended with both western and eastern influences. I was immersed in the unique Turkey culture.

 

Blue Mosque

I stayed on the European side of the city, the part where most visitors stayed. Buildings were mostly indistinguishable from other modem European cities, except those mosques. I managed to visit as many as possible including the famous Blue mosque. I have a religion but not very religious. Peace is what I like to have with my god but it is hard to come by. Subconsciously, I avoided all religious houses except those famous ones. They are more tourist sites even though all are still used for religious purpose. These worship places always remind me the human power instead of God’s.  I am amazed by how much money and time and effort people willing to dedicate to the immortals as well as the creativity and energy displaced in building those places. At the same time,  I can not feel connected to any spiritual power when the places are full of tourists.

 

Blue Mosque was absolutely grand and beautiful. The problem was the smell.  While others kneeled down to pray, I sat down on the carpet in a quite corner, trying to admire the arts displaced in the glasswork and paintings.  There was the heavy foot smell from the carpet. Everyone has to take their shoes off at the entrance. The carpet was not cleaned as often as they needed to handle the traffic. People are required to wear decent clothes. Head scarves were hand out at the door to cover their head but I did not get one. (Don’t know if it is only required for long hairs.)  They should have asked all of us to take a shower or bath before entering instead.  I stayed less than 5 minutes inside the mosque after taking couple pictures.

 

God showed me his magnificence outside of the mosque. The sunshine, clear sky and booming June flowers in the garden outside of the mosque were just the contrast to the dimed inside. People were running, laughing and shouting in the garden, instead of lowering their voices and bowing or kneeling down with solemn faces. I liked the outside much better with the impressive mosque just in the background.

 

City tour

My coworker and I went off the beaten-track in the city. Nathan did not travel abroad often. Maybe he felt he could experience more with a veteran. Usually when I travel, I like to experience the place by walking around randomly, no destination, no plan and no purpose. It is easy to do when one is alone as “a stranger in a strange city”. I would notice all wonders around me in details when I was totally upbeat. I would cry over the water on all bridges if I was low. My daughter’s image came up in every mother’s hand passing by me on the street when I missed the family. Shop windows, walking streets, buildings, trees and plants, flying-by cars, smell of food, and people talking without meaning, all strange but with some familiar moods in them. It is like a day dream. But two people can not share one dream. I modified the plan for the Istanbul walk with Nathan.

 

Nathan and I picked several popular city attractions. Using a rather vague map, we walked small streets.  Many times, the streets were not on the map. We were not sure where we were. All we knew was that the general direction was right. We were pretty good finishing the day without any major incident but quite confident that we got a good impression of the city.

 

The grand bazaar was on the route.  From a Chinese view, the thousands thousands small shops all in one place was a norm way of market. Also, just like Chinese,  Turkish people are known for bargaining. It is an very efficient way of doing business satisfying the needs from both the seller and buyer. The market gave the feeling of endless choices. It was part of the fun to get lost in it since they were all selling similar items. At the same time, you could find the same item in another shop and started bargaining again with more knowledge about the bottom price.  Nathan was excited and probably overwhelmed as an America at the beginning but got the fun at the end. He bought his small items for his family. Besides the famous Persian carpet, many shops were selling Leather and Jewelry.  We spent quite some time in a back street shop almost at the edge of the bazaar to chat with the owner of a silver shop. The water pitcher choice was abundant and all look fine except the price. They were expensive because they were all hand made with fine details. They wre priced in the class of arts not household items, hence, prohibitive even after discounts.  There were pictures on the wall showing the making of these items. The shop was in the family for several generations.  The owner pointed one old photo to say that was taken when he was just starting at age of 10. He has a grown son to continue the techniques as well. I hope they all enjoy the living they choose while many handcraft skills are lost with the industrial revolution and a flat globe.

 

Outside the bazaar, there are stores and vendors on every street we walked by. I was amazed by the industrial components shops lining up on one street in Shanghai. In American way of business, those would never make to retail stores let along to have so many on one busy streets with expensive shop rental rate. I saw a similar street in Istanbul with all the metal components shops and had no idea what they were for. They did not look like common household items needed by a housewife unless she happened to be certain technicians. Nathan had no idea either even though he was pretty handy and completed a house expansion project recently on his house. The owners did not speak English to help us. Couple streets down, I saw a street vendor who just had his goods on the floor with a plastic sheet. I got near and found they were different taps, 4 or 5 types all laid out but don’t see much inventories with him. Then another one with the plastic sheets just steps away for pots. I had to guess street-vendoring must be very popular for Turkish or maybe the guys just wanted to be out of the wifes way. We also passed several smaller bazaars. Neither of us felt the energy to get in. We looked for a place to eat.

 

We ate our lunch in a road side outdoor café. It looked pretty full with local people but must have many tourists. The waiter brought us menu with English and pictures. Kabob meat was cooked perfect for sandwiches. We also found that the same beer at our Hilton hotel sold for over 15 dollars (tax and services), 6 dollars at the exhibition center, and 2 dollars in this café.  We can afford the 2^nd beer because it was mass made in Europe, unlike the pitchers. So we ordered another rounds of beer and it was about noon. The beer was served when the nearby mosque called for pray and led the chant. No visible mosque in sight. So it must be broadcasted with strong powered equipment. I noted the Blue mosque had the equipment on the wall facing all directions. No one around us seemed to pay their attention to it or stop what they were doing. So we completed our lunch with the guy’s voice as the background. He had a good voice. Without know what he was saying, it sounded better than rap. Maybe it said all non-believers would be punished. We did not care.

 

There were many guys are ready to shine your shoes on the street. Maybe too many to push them to be so creative to compete. Nathan saw a guy with the shoe shining box walking in front us dropping one of his brushes. He called out to stop the man. The guy returned and bended down to pick the brushes. To our surprise, instead of standing up with the brush in hand, he just started to shine Nathan’s shoes. After couple second, he stood up and hold his other hand out with a modest smile. Nathan had to check his pockets for coins.  And the guy left with a thank you. That trick worked really well. 4 blocks away, we saw another shoe shining guy in front of us dropping his brushes. Nathan and I looked at each other, smiled and went around the brush, and passed the guy quickly. Then we started laughing so hard when we turned our head to see the guy went back and picked the brush on the empty street.  

 

Off the beaten path, we found another small mosque. It was marked on the map so it must have some importance. There was no English sign or staff around. Couple guys sat cross the court yard chatting but paid no attention to two foreigners probing around. Nathan and I decided to go in the house without being invited. We took off our shoes at the door. There were no bad smells inside. It was very small but looks similar to the other mosques we have been. The whole roof arched with beautiful glassed windows. Except it was very bright inside maybe because it was small or the sun hit the windows in a right angle? The light yellow walls felt very warm and the blue glass looked soft and pretty. No one was inside. There was a narrow swirling stairs upwards standing alone towards the back of the hall. This felt like a house that you can talk to God about peace and go upstairs to get advice for puzzles in life with someone wise and kind. When we came out, the guys were still talking and still not looking at us. There was a small garden on the side looked well maintained and attractive through the cracks of the locked door and fences. Maybe this was the good life for the locals that no foreigners could disturb.

 

Turkey is known for both of its tea and coffee. We looked around for a place for a cup of tea. We saw in other places that there were vendors selling tea. The tea was in shot glasses and about 7-8 glasses carrying around on a silver tray. Guys sitting on the side of the streets or in a shop put coins on the tray and then took one glass. I wondered how they returned the glass after they were done.  It was a Sunday afternoon. Most of the tea houses were very crowed. We must be on a street with few visitors as none of managers of those tea places could talk to us in English. We entered a large place and asked for tea in English again, the guy nodded and let us in to find us a table.  It was certainly not the blockbuster place but it may serve the same purpose for the locals. Most folks were guys in group of 3 or more. Sitting in couches and large armchairs around the low table, they don’t have much face emotions or had conversations with their peers. It was a bit scary like they were either drunk or was day dreaming. I wondered if it was caused by the Turkish smoking pipe many of them were using or had on the table. I pointed to the waterpipe and asked if I could have one.  The guy led us in shook his head and tried to talk to us in broken English. He seemed to say those were only for the locals or only for guys. Nathan did not like what he saw either. We decided to leave without the tea.

 

Bath House

 

The bestseller “100 places to visit before you die” had Turkish bath house listed. I deiced to take it a try and went with another two girls. We found the place the book recommended. It was under 100 dollars for 2 hours. A very thin old man took our money, then, the sign said men to the left and woman to the right. A heavy women standing at the woman side greeted us, and led us to small rooms for change. We were asked to take off all our clothes and wrapped in white towels to go into the bath hall.

 

It was a huge circular stone hall with an arched roof and strong columns to support. There was a flat circular stage in the middle. At end of the wall along the side, there were multiple water taps, small stools and small copper basins. Small but significant numbers of windows tall on the wall as well as lights hanging from the ceiling provided the soft light. Maybe because of height, it was not steamy at all. The grey smooth stone wall and floor felt warm but clean. Two other women were washing themselves on the side. Both looked westerners. We took the lead and took off our towels to wash ourselves on the side.

 

The two girls I went with were from UK and US. All of us married or was married.  I had issues to go in public wash place when I was a girl in China. Looking at other naked bodies around me once was very embarrassing. Time had changed. All three of us let go the towels without much hesitations. Avoiding staring at others’ naked bodies, we appeared normal like we were just in our office bathroom for a little touch-ups in the mid of the day. We were quickly done our washing. The place started to feel pretty hot. We decided against going into the small dark sauna room and sit on the stone edges to look at what happened on the stage in the middle.

 

Several motherly looking big women including the one at the change room walked in wearing only towels on them. the carried couple large buckets and tools They started first cleaning themselves on the side, then they washed the  platform or the stage in the middle of the room with soap and splashed the soap away with buckets of water. We were summoned down to get on the stage. Each of us got one woman sat down next to us on the edge of the platform. We were ready to start.

 

I was expecting a massage but it was really a bath. The women who did the bath spoke a little English. I was asked to sit first on the platform. She washed my hair first, water, shampoo, water. She asked me to lie down on my stomach to wash my back next. Water, soap and then water and a repeat of the same cycle. Flip over on my back, she washed my front, water soap and then water, repeat.  Except the soap steps, where large mops were used and created all tiny soothing bobbles, she just used her hands to wash me, head to toe. Her touch was strong but tender.  Her actions slow but thorough. I am pretty sure that was how my mother washed me when I was a baby if I could have any memories about it. That was how I washed my baby when she was little. The stone surface was smooth but hard. There were others talking and washing around me even I can not see them. There was one time, four girls all on their back, our heads  to next one's toes formed a square on the cicular stage. It was not exactly relaxing, or I was just a little too tense to enjoy it. It was like we were cleaned to be sacrificed next.

 

Afterwards, wrapped again in white clean towels, we got out of the bath hall to sit and relax in the dry room outside. I had the good feeling of being absolutely cleaned, the same satisfaction after I left the dental office with my tooth fully cleaned.   There were benches to let you lie down in the really large daylight littered room. The women done our bath also took shifts to rest and chat themselves too. We sipped teas. There were booklets with pictures about the tradition of Turkish bath. Several pictures caught my attention. Apparently there were more activities on the man side. In a similar bath hall setting, a guy on the stage was stepped on in one picture. In another, the guy on the stage had his arms pulled far behind him, the head was lifted and face was full of pain. I was sure he could think everything but his mother at that moment.

 

I felt squeaky clean for at least several days, head to toe.

 

 

Young and Innocent

 

I hired several local staff for our exhibition. Like an NPR weekend program talked about Minnesota as the place “where all men are strong and all women are beautiful”, my temp Turkish team were all impressive people.

 

The 3 girls were perfect for the hostess roles, young and innocent but very professional and dedicated. Their looks were so much alike to make me wonder if the local company used certain strict selection standard like the chinese did for their national events. They look like dolls, pretty but a little boring.  They were all about 5”4 in their early 20s. large soft black eyes decorated with very long heavy lashes. Looking at their flawless makeup and dark dense brownish hairs long and straight, they must spend at least half any hour in the bathroom before they came each morning. They also had good glassly figures. All the right hardwares were installed for being attractive but maybe little more software needed to be sexy.  I was glad they were not trying to flash their assets at all. They severed coffees, talked to visitors, organized the tables, handed out materials, patiently smiling if not particularly sweet. All, the way to the last day of the exhibit, they were as perfect as robots, no sign of aging. When I asked if they were tired of hearing the same flute music of a documentary we showed at booth for 6 hours a day and 5 day straight, one girl came lively and said “last night I heard it in my dream”. Good, they were human. They asked for a picture with me next. I could not refuse. There we went, three beautiful young girls, just after quickly powdering their face, smiled into the camera with a mama san twice of their age,  totally stressed out from organizing a million dollar event and with dark circles under the eyes where no make up can cover. I would not post for pictures again with any female under 25 unless I can carry her in my arm.

 

Compared to the girls, my boys were a little more diversified and with less impressive looks. After being warned about local guys being “manly” and not known as good tempered, they were all easy to work with and professional as well to listen to a female manager on the site. We had a team of local photographers in addition to the booth staff. One of them was particularly nice and I decided to get myself a date after the meeting and asked him to show me the city. I found out he just graduated from college a year ago with an engineer degree and only 22. I thought he was much older and an artist with his curly brown hairs almost covering all his ears and very casual clothes.  One of my western colleagues actually made an comment about the young photographer looked “grumpy” on the exhibition floor. He looked perfectly fit-in on the third floor of a small local bar. We watched people in the streets rushing by to get on their worldly duties. Around us, the college looking youngsters did have all the leisure to sit around, wasting a perfect afternoon over beers. We chatted about his city and life in America, where he wanted to come to study for a degree and said he already had a government scholarship to support. Cross the street, there was a huge advertisement about Going America tourist program painted on the building. And the bar was playing soft English pop songs. He was excited with his futures in America.  It was a warm dreamy afternoon with very mild sun behind thin clouds. Looking at my young and shy friend cross the narrow table, I had the urge to put my hand out to touch his soft hairs and chin “It is so good to be young and full of hope for life”.

 

My young friend showed me his manly side later of the day. We took the ferry to visit the Asian side of the Istanbul. He carefully walled me off on the boat against the crowds while pointing me different builds along the river and telling me stories about the history. He grew up and lived on this side of the city. Actually we bumped into one of his high school classmates on the street, another pretty girl just like the ones in my booth. They kissed each other on the cheeks happily and talked lively with each other in their languages. With another two quick pecks on the cheeks, the girl left in a minute with her girl friend. And while we continued walking further, I was just wondering why such a fine young boy did not have a girlfriend or showed any special interests to the pretty girls around him. We were then distracted by the noises rising on the street. A car was in the middle of the narrow street and there were smoke and fire coming under. I was not sure what was going on and the first instinct was to pull away from the danger. My young friend rushed in before I could say anything. He ran to the driver, a woman with scarf covered head, shouting to her rapidly in local language. I assumed he was telling her to cut the engine and there was the fire. More guys rushed over to help.   They pushed the car little back and stamped on something that was still burning on the ground.  It was over in couple minutes. The woman stood on the side, using her cell phone to call for a truck. He came back to me, eyes brighter than usual because of the excitement. We did not talk much about the incident before moving on further. His actions spoke better than the words about him as a man.

 

The night was getting to its peak when we went dinner in a local restaurant. Sitting outdoor, there was a wedding going on. A brand played local songs with some strange looking music instrument, but just like most of the guests wearing suits and night gowns, the couple came out totally in western attires, the bride in white wedding gown and groom in white tuxedos. They started dancing as the mid aged woman singer singing a slow local melody, quite sadly tone in a rough voice, my friend tried to whisper the meaning of the song in my ear, then the firework came out from the four corners of the court, so bright, so beautiful and so unreal...

 

It was a perfect last night for my Istanbul trip.