Sultanahmet: It's Where You Want to Be.

Istanbul is big and crowded. While guide books may say less, inhabitants of the city cite 17-million souls (or more) who live within its over 2000 square-mile city limits, ranking it as one of the largest cities in the world. The city is on two continents -- Europe and Asia.  That means that part of the city is European and the other part is Asian. The Bosphorus is a waterway that divides the city and flows between the Black Sea and the Sea of Marmara. And somewhere in there is the Golden Horn, a horn-shaped estuary.

From what I think I know (which could be completely misguided), my grandparents lived in an area called Pera (the other side) of Istanbul. More on that later. 

Sultanahmet, where we stayed, is the "old city." It's walled (or used to be), and you can still see much of that very wall, ubiquitous to all ancient towns of this ilk -- sometimes long stretches, sometimes just parts -- nearly everywhere you look. The most famous sites of the town are right here - mostly walking distance from each other. You've got your Blue Mosque (or its official name Sultan Ahmed Mosque), your Hagia Sophia, your Grand Bazaar, your Cisterns and, the most dazzling of all,  Topkapi Palace.  There's the center park with its enormous fountain which lights at night and changes the color of the water every few seconds. The park sits on what was the ancient Hippodrome. Not to mention there are seemingly countless other city sites and museums. 

The touristy part of the city is immaculate. No trash anywhere. Lovely benches and fountains. Amazing panoramas at every turn. And the Blue Mosque is the most photogenic of all. If Disney or Las Vegas had an Istanbul street or hotel, it would look this perfect. 

I'm not going to bore you with any guide book history of Sultanahmet (though it is fascinating), but this is tourist central, to be sure. 

Day 1: Dinner

We checked-in to our hotel overlooking the Bosphorus in Sultanhamet, the most popular tourist spot.  Exhausted, but because it was still early, 8-ish in the evening, we forced ourselves to stay up. So we went to dinner at a Metropolis, near our hotel. Adina ordered Iskender Kebab (Iskender means Alexander) and I the Vejeteryan Guvec (vegetable casserole). 

Anything "Iskender" comes the same way -- cooked in tomato sauce and pide (pita-type) bread in the sauce (the cooked bread reminded me of pasta or dumplings) and served with thick, plain yogurt. My Stew was eggplant, carrots, pearl onions, zucchini, tomatoes cooked and served bubbling hot in a clay dish, and topped with what the Istanbul folk call "yellow cheese." 

It is said that "hunger is the best sauce." And we were hungry and this was scrumptious. Served with a loaf of that same pide, or what I called bubbly bread.

Here is my version of the vegetable casserole.  

Turkish Vegetable Casserole

Casserole:
2 cups 1-inch cubed eggplant
2 cups 1-inch cubed zucchini
2 cups 1-inch cubed carrots
1 green or yellow bell pepper, cut into 1-inch pieces
2 cups 1-inch cubed tomatoes
2 cups button mushrooms, cut in half or quartered if whole
12-18 pearl onions (more if small, less, halved, if large), peeled, but left whole
1 tsp. minced garlic
1 cup tomato sauce
3 Tbsp. fresh lemon juice
3 Tbsp. extra virgin olive oil
Salt and pepper to taste

Garnish:
Shredded Turkish white cheese or feta cheese, crumbled

Preheat the oven to 400-degreesF. Combine all the casserole ingredients in a large bowl and toss well. Transfer to an attractive ceramic or glass baking dish and cover with foil. Bake for about 20 minutes. Remove foil, stir. Cook, uncvored, for 20-30 minutes more. Add salt and pepper to taste, stir again and serve immediately, with the cheese sprinkled on top. Makes 4-6 servings.

Istanbul Day 1: The drive from the airport.

Once we were on our way to our hotel, what should have been a short jaunt on a Saturday evening turned into a social studies class on Turkish weekend customs. Driving along the congested road hugging the Marmara Sea, is a long (miles, I'd say) park area. The park is lined with flowerbeds full of tulips. It's April and the tulips are in bloom, almost at the end of their glory.

In this park are families -- lots and lots of families, with children running and playing. The women, many dressed in traditional garb, were mostly sitting while the men had other duties. They all seemed to be doing the same thing -- grilling food. Delicious smelling lamb, vegetables and tomatoes, from what I could see, all on portable grills.

These small grills, burning wood or coal (it seems) were surrounded by families large and small and groups of friends. Every few feet -- another group/another grill. Some of the grills were store bought, others homemade. Smoked rising in tufts above the grills clouded our view as we slowly inched along in our black Mercedes van.  The scene reminded me of a modern Turkish version of Manet's painting "Luncheon on the Grass.

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After traveling for 18 hours, I was tired and hungry and wanted only to get to our hotel. Yet, I still would have loved to join the local custom. The food - simple and humble - looked and smelled amazing.

Getting there is half the fun.

Getting there is half the fun. 

You can't get to Istanbul directly from Detroit.

So you have to change planes. And if you're going to change planes, the most fun place to do so is the Amsterdam Schirphol airport. Besides having the best food choices in all the world's airports (imagine hand-cut smoked salmon that's the best after crappy Delta meals and seven-hours in the air), you can go a local fresh market, buy cut tulips (fresh and ersatz wooden), lug home an enormous wheel of Gouda and buy a plastic orange watch, because you forgot your watch at home while scrambling to get out of town. 

The personnel at the airport aren't so friendly, however. While trying to find a place to sit (since my gate wasn't open two hours before my connecting flight), I was snarled at by a worker, despite my sweetest smile and obvious lack of where-to-sit knowhow. 

Arriving in Turkey, however was a breeze. Fast through Passport Control (barely a glance at my online visa, printed in triplicate just in case) and not even a peek at my carry-on (that's all I take, no matter the length of the journey).

I waited for my friend, Adina, to arrive from L.A., which was no problem because people watching is the other half of the fun. The lady in the crazy-tall spiked heels and mini-skirt kept my attention until a flock of women covered head to toe in black "chador" with only their eyes peeking through had me transfixed.

Adina had arranged for a ride to our hotel. We were picked-up, finally, after 15-minutes. Our driver drove to a cell-phone waiting area and said we needed to wait 15-minutes more to pick up another group of passengers. He sat on a small plastic stool and proceeded to sip tea with others for 20-minutes. Finally I asked him to take us back to the airport so we could take a taxi instead. He hopped back into the van, we picked up the other passengers (who also had been waiting 15-minutes for US) and we were on the road. Moral of the story? These people were in no hurry -- if I hadn't opened my mouth, we would have continued to wait while our driver drank tea. 

Why OyVeyIzmir?

Oy vey (Yiddish) אױ װײ), oy vay, or just oy — or even more elaborately oy vey iz mir, oh weh! — is an exclamation of dismay or exasperation meaning something like "oh, pain" or "woe is me." -- Wikipedia

Oy Vey=Yiddish=Jewish=Israel

Iz mir=Izmir=A city in Turkey (located in the Anatolia province of Turkey (formally known as Smyrna), on the coast of the Gulf of Izmir, it is the second (or third, depending on the source), most populous city in Turkey, after Istanbul.

My trip to Turkey and Israel began as a way to mend a broken heart. A best friend had recently died, and in my time of mourning, some weeks later a relationship of nearly two years ended so abruptly, I still find myself replaying the details, wondering what and where it all went wrong. 

Suddenly single, cynical and disillusioned I needed to regroup, repair and restore. Although I've often thought of myself as "the luckiest girl in the world," I was feeling pretty sorry for myself and often just a mere word or thought away from tears. 

Among my ways of distraction was to do what I've always done, but in double time -- keep myself as busy as possible. This meant working harder than ever, playing more and going away.

I've been a lot of places around the world, often multiple times. But I'd never been to Turkey and I had been to Israel so long ago (nearly 35-years ago -- for six-weeks one summer as a high school senior), that I hardly remembered it. 

Turkey was definitely on my bucket list. My paternal grandparents, Sephardic Jews, lived in Istanbul before moving to Rio de Janeiro, Brazil in the early 1920s. 

If I searched really hard I could find where my paternal great-grandmother, Lea Franco Rabishovsky (or RABISCHOFFSKY) was buried. Born in Bulgaria, Lea died of typhus soon after giving birth to her youngest daughter, Rosa, my father's aunt, just following the Ottoman Empire's defeat in World War I and just before the start of Turkey's War for Independence. Rosa, now in her later 90s, is the only living link to this Turkish heritage. 

My maternal grandfather spent his last few years in Tel Aviv after living in Brazil for nearly 40 years (he and my grandmother were from Poland). It was his dream to be there, though he died at the young age of 68. He is buried in Holon Cemetery, near Tel Aviv. 

So, there are people to see, but as important, things to do, and eat, which is always important. 

And away I go.