Day I- Istiklal Cadessi

There is something atmospheric about the walk on the bridge- it is not the most picturesque, certainly not beautiful in a conventional sort of way, nor really soothing; but it leaves us with a smile on our face. A smile and enough of a mood to decide to walk to Beyoglu, the suburb that houses the bustling street of Istiklal Cadessi- the ‘place to be’ in the evening. (Cadessi is pronounced Jadessi)

We walk much more than we expect, some of it in the wrong direction, before a couple of university students boisterously and gregariously lead us back and onto the single street that will take us there. It’s a single street alright, but it stretches on, going uphill. We labour across, passing the Galata Tower that is meant offer spectacular panoramic sights- its Euro3.50 entry made sure it did not make it to our list. The street (we now know believe it was Galipdede Cadessi) is mostly deserted, we realise that’s because its nearly iftar time- when most people of this city will have their first morsel of food/ drop of water since before sunrise. It is a phenomenon that we will marvel at many times to come in the next week or so, particularly because of how widespread this Ramadan (Ramazan) fasting is. We pass a shop overflowing with exquisite glass lamps- that this photo does no justice to- and after a while, the street is lined with innumerable shops selling music instruments- some only guitars, others only percussion. Outside them, people are breaking their fast as we reach the very bottom end of Istiklal Cadessi.



The next two hours or so are spent walking up, down and off this bright, bustling and terribly charming 2km long cobble stoned stretch. Every little while, the mass of people- sans vehicles- is cutely disturbed by a rattling old tram that runs two stops from Tunel at the bottom, to Taksim Square at the top of Istiklal. It is red, tiny and I have the urge to hop on to- it moves slowly enough to do so- and hang for a stretch, but better sense (?) prevails.
There are lots of people- well dressed, good looking people, families, youngsters. The feel is terribly European ( I find it amazing how often I feel something is “so European”, but I have never been there), and of course, geographically, we are in Europe. Oh, and there are what seems like hordes of rockers. No, I really do mean rockers. Leather jackets, long hair, guitars slung over their backs, some punkish, some metal-ish, guys, girls…surely there is some club or something here.

We even pass Galatasaray Square (Galatasaray FC, anyone?), but therein lies a photograph I postponed and eventually never took. There are shops- all kinds of shops, restaurants, bars, confectionaries, bakeries and two Loos of The World- McDonald’s and Burger King. How many people do you know who use fast food joints like these as public rest rooms? None? Ok- either you’re founder member of the Supreme Bladder Control Club or you’re terribly scrupulous. Or you’re lying. We, on the other hand, are honest upstanding global citizens who acknowledge the worth of these establishments, and our own kidney shortcomings. So there.

At about 9.30, post the consumption of a little personal vodka, we decide to finally go to Nevizade Socak (a street we have already surveyed in our tiring walk), but before that we must change some money. Yes, we are short again- changed too little this morning. What do you know, the changers are shut. One, then the next and the next- and it is not even 9pm yet! Just as we have, for the third time, reached the end of the road (ah, I love this language), we despairingly ask a policeman who sets us off on a two minute walk that fattens the wallet and ensures dinner will not be just the one dish between the two of us.