A Day in Istanbul

First, let’s get the pronunciation correct, please. The Turks pronounce it:

Ees-TAHN-bul. The emphasis is on the second syllable. The “a” in TAN is “ah” as in “Ah-Choo!” It is not:

• Is-TAAAAAN-bul (Southerners in the U.S. pronounce it this way, and it makes me cringe) nor
• ISSS-tan-bul (although less offensive, still incorrect) nor
• Is-taaaaan-BULL (no, the song is not correct).

Thank you for listening to my TED Talk on the pronunciation of my favorite city’s name.

Somehow, I’ve managed to tie myself in knots with my writing schedule. Rather than writing leisurely, without concern for word counts or schedules, I have three different projects underway simultaneously. It didn’t bother me until yesterday when I realized that somewhere near the end of September, I would have to DO something with each one of those projects AT THE SAME TIME.

Today, stressed and unorganized, I took a break and followed my husband to the Fatih area of Istanbul, where the Grand Bazaar is located. It gives us both time to relax when we take the ferry. So we did. We always sit outside and watch the city go by.

The photo above is the old Haydarpaşa train station where the Orient Express used to depart. It is being renovated and is expected to be ready in 20261 as an archaeological park, along with the railway areas. According to some articles, the station will be for high-speed trains, which already exist in the country.

The ferry takes us past Kız Kulesi (The Maiden’s Tower), located just off Salacak, a neighborhood on the Asian part of Istanbul. We looked at apartments in this part of the city, but my husband felt it’d be too conservative for me, and I’d be uncomfortable. This tower is the only remaining Byzantine-era structure in the Üsküdar area. It houses a restaurant reachable by boat.

My husband, a Turk, asked me what “foreigners” see when they look at the city from the ferry. Unless you are a history person or have taken the time to read about the city, you will have no perspective when you arrive here. When I scan the city, I have thirty-plus years of memories. Each neighborhood reminds me of friends, family, and events that have taken place there.

Such as the old houses that line the shores of the Bosphorus. At one point in our lives, we had the opportunity to purchase one of the yalis similar to the one shown above. These are historic mansions, and the one that was available years ago was expensive and required significant renovations. The architect with the opportunity, offered to help us bring it back to full glory.

We could have scraped together the funds and done much of the work ourselves, but there was so much in the historical building that we would not have been allowed to do, and that type of work was outside our budget. And it would have been very unfair to our then-small children. Yet as we float past these houses, that memory comes alive. I still wish we’d taken that leap.

We leave the ferry, take the tram up the hill past the Blue Mosque and Hagia Sofia, and wind our way past the Nuruosmaniye Mosque into the Bazaar. If you’ve forgotten what the stores in the Grand Bazaar are like, here’s a reminder.

Deep in the Grand Bazaar is a restaurant we frequently visit for basic traditional Turkish cuisine. It is rarely crowded and surprisingly devoid of tourists at the times we have visited. Havuzlu Restaurant is easily found on Google Maps. It is simple Turkish fare, nothing spectacular. We paid $35.00 for lunch today, which included two hearty dishes, vegetables, and dessert.

The reviews on Google Maps are mixed. The locals like it, the tourists say it’s a scam because you’re “forced” to pick your food from the case, and they were overcharged.

Well, if you want to see the food beforehand, feel free to look at it. If you would like a menu, please ask for it. It has prices. Selecting your food in advance is a common practice in many Turkish restaurants. If you want to know the cost of something in Türkiye, just ask. If you don’t like the price, walk away.

When you put your clothes in a suitcase and get on an airplane, do you leave your common sense behind?

My husband had to head back to the farm, and I had a list of errands to accomplish in this part of the city. One of the books I have written, which is partially set in Istanbul (scheduled for a 2026 release), features scenes in this neighborhood. My goal is to include a map of the area and show the places that my character goes. But rather than follow the path I had written for Quinn, I got distracted, just as she does in the book.

I’ve never been able to get a decent photo of this tiny alleyway. It is where trading (so I’m told) is going on, with a lot of yelling as people make trades.

Not far from the trading alley is the photo below. I mean, look at this. Isn’t this the biggest fire hazard you’ve ever seen?

I buy my ink cartridges in bulk here. I’ve found it difficult in Miami to find cartridges for my fountain pens, so I’ve had to purchase them online from London. The pen store is approximately ten feet by fifteen feet square, with floor-to-ceiling displays of pens. I was a bit overwhelmed. But I got my cartridges, then picked up more office supplies two doors down, on the street below.

I don’t know if I’ve changed, or if the people here have changed, but no one treats me like a tourist anymore. In any store, with my convoluted mixture of English and Turkish, I always get what I want, and they are always pleasant. The hawkers stopped calling out to me last year. Maybe it’s a confidence thing.

Or maybe, I’m just old and invisible.

Then, on the way to the Mısır Çarşısı (the Egyptian or Spice Bazaar) to find a puppy collar for our new Belgian Malinois, Stitch, the ezan (call to prayer) began. I caught part of it for you. I’ve listened to this for thirty years. I’ve grown accustomed to the sound, and even though it may not be the best singer at times, it remains comforting.

What you may not realize from this short clip is that this particular person can really sing. I stood, listening with my eyes closed, surprised at how good the younger muezzin can sing. (Most of my experience has been listening to older muezzin.)

The one in my Istanbul neighborhood is also a terrific singer. There is nothing like sitting in my dark living room, doors and windows open, and listening to him sing.

I’m back home now, hot (it was 90 degrees F today) and tired, but no longer stressed. No matter how tired or aggravated I get, all I have to do is take a walk, take a ferry, or get on the train. The city is there, spread before me in its glory, if I take time to look.