eis tḕn Pólin

“What an overrated city…”,

That was my first impression, staring out of the taxi window like a wide-eyed child on the half-hour drive from the airport to my hotel. And that feeling only grew stronger through the next morning as I walked a bit with no navigation and a chaos of traffic on the road. This was the place I was meant to call home for the next seven days, only to realise that Istanbul isn’t a city you can judge in an hour, or even a day. You could spend weeks thinking you’ve started to understand it, and still…No, you haven’t.

Whenever I travel with friends, I’m usually the one who does the planning. I enjoy it, to be honest, and I like to think I’m pretty good at making the most of a trip. In Istanbul, I spent seven days trying to see as much as I could. Every night I came back to the hotel completely worn out, feet aching, but still, on that last evening, I felt a bit gutted. It honestly felt like I hadn’t seen as much of the city as I should have.

The beauty of Istanbul lies in its incredible diversity and rich history, so much so that you never feel disconnected from it. From the ancient Egyptian 18th dynasty’s Obelisk of Theodosius (15th century BC) to the Hagia Sophia of the Byzantine Empire (4th century AD), from the Topkapi Palace of the Ottoman Empire (15th century AD) to the iconic Bosphorus Bridge (1973), you can find traces of more than 3,500 years of history, hundreds of battles and sieges, the rise and fall of empires, and a blend of Arab, Greek, Roman and modern cultures and architecture. Cherry on top, the sweet, beautiful and loving people of Istanbul who will keep talking to you in Turkish so excited, knowing that you’re not understanding anything and they won’t understand whatever you’ll say.

I wish I could, but I’m not going to write about the places I visited, because I wouldn’t be able to do justice to thousands of years of history in just a few lines. Instead, I’ll try to summarise the real Istanbul, the one you actually experience when you visit.

When I landed at the airport, I made a few bold decisions, or at least I thought they were bold at the time, but later I realised how grey the line is between bold and stupid. I knew it would be smarter to buy a local SIM card, but I deliberately avoided it this time, just to challenge myself. Within a few hours, I realised that wasn’t a bold decision at all, it was just a stupid one.

Without mobile data, I could barely cross the road, let alone navigate the city. So the next morning, I used the hotel’s Wi-Fi to search for a couple of mobile shops nearby. Google Maps showed a couple of them “just across the road”, a short walk with a right turn. I left the hotel, crossed the road, started walking and after about ten minutes, I still couldn’t see anything. Just as I was about to give up and turn back before forgetting the way to my hotel, I finally saw one of the shops. I went in and told the salesperson I wanted a short-term SIM package. I didn’t understand 90% of what he said in Turkish, but what I gathered was that they only had a 28-day package, and it would cost me 2,000 lira (roughly £40).

Even though I went there after seeing a 7-day package on their website, I couldn’t argue. First, because I didn’t know Turkish and he wasn’t going to understand English. Second, I couldn’t even show him the webpage at that moment, thanks to my earlier “bold” decision. Welcome to Istanbul, It’s not a scam if you think so, but it definitely is if you don’t. But it’s a legal one, right?

Anyway, I had to buy a 28-day SIM card on my second day because I got lost on my first evening and had to rent a taxi just to get back. I couldn’t figure out my way without the internet, and honestly, one more taxi ride like that would’ve cost more than the SIM itself. Still, the 28-day package from TurkCell was cheaper than TurkTel’s, and the staff even gave me a small gift when they knew I was from Pakistan. That’s one of the cool things I noticed about Turkish people, they really seem to like Pakistanis.

The other day, I booked an Uber, and like always, the driver was super chatty, though all in Turkish. I told him I didn’t understand anything he was saying, and he asked if I was Arab. When I said I was from Pakistan, he got all excited, said something in Turkish (no clue what), blew a flying kiss, and used hand gestures to say he loves Pakistan. It was such a random but wholesome moment.

Speaking of taxis and Ubers, there’s one thing that nearly gave me heart attacks. That’s the way people drive here, it’s wild. On my very first Uber from the airport to the hotel, it was a highway drive, the driver was staring at his phone (juggling other bookings and the messages) and was driving at about 100mph at the same time.

I always try to be nice in most situations and trust that people know what they are doing, but I hated myself so much right in that moment for being acting nice over my life. That was one of the reasons which made me think that the idea of not buying a SIM was stupid and I actually thought, “Man, I really should’ve had the internet, at least my family could’ve tracked my last location if something happened.”

I was looking at the driver through the rearview mirror while he was using his phone and he noticed it. He probably thought I was concerned about it, so he pulled out a pack of cigarettes, offered me one. I don’t smoke so I refused, but he lit one for himself. So now he was speeding, smoking, and still checking his phone occasionally. I don’t know how that ride didn’t end in a crash, but somehow I made it to the hotel in one piece.

Over the next one week, I did an analysis while waiting for buses at bus stops. It is very common for people to use mobile phones while driving. I really didn’t understand why, but it is very common, no need to freak out.

Just like in Greece, I noticed some restaurant staff standing on the street, inviting passersby to come eat at their places. But in Rhodes, the servers usually just asked or invited you directly to their restaurants. Istanbul was different though, they’d sometimes strike up random conversations. One evening, I was super tired and hungry, thinking about grabbing some takeaway. By then, I’d learned not to buy food near the main tourist spots for obvious reasons, so I was walking back to my hotel down a narrow street. Suddenly, one of the servers said,

“Oh, I like your beard.” I wasn’t sure if he was talking to me until I turned around and asked. Then he was suddenly like, “I thought you might be hungry. Want to eat something?”

Well, I was hungry, so I fell for it. While waiting for my food, I noticed him complimenting other people on their looks, stuff they had, or where they were from, then inviting them to eat too. I kind of felt like I got scammed, but again a legal one, right?

But when it comes to the food, it’s definitely worth it. One thing I realised is that all the Turkish restaurants I’ve been to in Germany or the UK don’t really serve authentic Turkish food; it’s more like Middle Eastern food. Turkish food itself is more Mediterranean.

I loved that every meal I got came with a really fresh, nice salad. I’m not much of a foodie and usually struggle to adjust to ethnic foods, but I gave it my best shot and even finished the Turkish mezes they served during the conference dinner. What else could I do when I ordered and finished a half-litre bottle of Şalgam, a traditional Turkish turnip juice? It was so sour I seriously thought I was going to get a sore throat.

One thing that didn’t sit well with me though, was how they serve kebabs with rice and pide bread, but no dip. Like, how am I supposed to eat that thick bread with kebab without any kind of sauce? I asked a Turkish friend about it, and he looked surprised, like, “Why would you need a dip with kebab?” I was like, “Obviously I do, duh.”

Though I said before that most people speak Turkish and don’t really understand English, some might disagree and I won’t argue. For me, I tried talking to a few people on the first couple of days, then I gave up and started assuming that anyone outside the dedicated staff couldn’t speak English.

The funny thing is, I was staying at an Ibis hotel which is an international chain. On my first breakfast, I was hunting for a spoon. A server asked me what I needed, I said, “a spoon” and he looked at me blankly. I tried to explain with gestures, and he suddenly goes “Oh okay, kaşık.”

The next morning, same story but this time when the server asked me, I said “kaşık”. I regretted that the very next moment, because she launched into a whole explanation in Turkish about where to find one. All I could do was to hold my laughter and nod to whatever she said and just walked in the direction she waved her hand to.

I decided two things at that moment; I wasn’t gonna try to learn and repeat the Turkish words like a parrot, and I wasn’t gonna assume for everyone to know English. So, I was so delighted when I met an Irish lady on a guided tour of Topkapi Palace and we could talk in English for a while.

It is always a delight when you go to shops in main tourist markets like Istiklal Street, Egyptian and Grand Bazaar or almost any tourist attraction, the shopkeepers can speak English or at least they have someone who can understand you. And they are kind enough to bring a cup of herbal tea to you while you browse. Although I always felt a bit obliged to buy something after that. Is it a scam? I really don’t know, is it?