Turkish Delighting – My Love Affair in Istanbul, with Tango and Baklava

Usually down for an adventure, I had decided instead of flying, to take a €30 bus ride from Bulgaria’s east coast, down into Turkey. A 6-hour journey and an on-the-spot $30 expedited visa later, we arrived in Istanbul. A coach bus scarcely occupied with Turks, Bulgarians, a few Eastern European stragglers, and myself in the back– propped contentedly against the window.  

It was a night where the moon sat low on the horizon, a perfect crescent, resembling the very one dominating the Turkish flag.  The taxi driver and I conversed, rather, lightly argued, over google translate, coming to an agreement on price to my Airbnb. Just before leaving the bus station he hustled in a family into our van, who turned out to be Ukrainian refugees.  Along our drive, there was much I could have said to that family…could have asked…but strangely when put in the position, I found myself frozen, and from where I sat in the front seat, instead just held a loving space of kindness for them.  Windows down, crazy techno music blasting inside the taxi, and sensory overloaded, we made our way inside the depths of this huge city, chaotic driving and horns all around us, the loud mystifying sound of the Muslim call to prayer somewhere in the background, and the smell of sweet sheesha filling the air. 

When morning hit, I was delighted to explore a bit of the city while stocking up on some groceries, and to my delight quickly observed how cats were everywhere in the city.  Felines walked, perched, and slept everywhere.  I had never seen anything like it, it was as if the cat species coexisted with the human species.  I sat and enjoyed my açaí bowl while a cute tiger kitty purred next to me, and together we took in the city street before us.  So many different cat varieties…various sizes, short and long hair, colors, calicos, and patchworks.  My mind drifted, and I imagined that in the cats’ world, it was just them, and we were the ones on their territory.  Humans providing makeshift beds, boxes and benches, and leaving out food and water bowls was clearly just part of our due diligence.  They ran shit.  Many took up residence inside cafes and restaurants, shops, stores and salons.  

Aside from “Catland,” the next obvious observation was that everyone, and I mean 90% of the people I saw out, smoked cigarettes.  It was a thing, and everyone was doing it.  Outside restaurants, inside cars, balconies…everywhere.  Let’s just say if you’re allergic to cats, and hate cigarette smoke, perhaps Istanbul is not the city for you!       

Long story short, after a string of horrible Airbnb experiences (people just think they can rent out their place, leaving all their shit there, without bothering to deep clean) I found a modest and clean hotel on a quietish street in Kadıköy, a hipster neighborhood known for their colorful murals, cool bars, cafes and all out artsy vibe.  The area was thriving, and I loved that it wasn’t overly touristic, and even more so I loved that in just a short walk I’d be able to go tango dancing at numerous venues.  

Who knew Argentine tango would be so damn good in Turkey!  I didn’t, and I’ve been on the scene for over a decade.  When you go to a milonga–essentially a social Argentine Tango dance party–the level of dancers can be drawn on a scale, let’s be honest.  It just is.  We are all at different levels and it’s all good.  Sometimes you find 7’s… sometimes 4’s… sometimes 5’s with a handful of 7.5’s… Turkey on the other hand, was 10’s.  Ok, 9’s across the board, with 10’s sprinkled in, but the most creative, musically inspired, passionate, and skillful I’ve ever danced with.  Ok, ok, I have yet to grace a tango floor in Buenos Aires, but the experience in Turkey reminded me of tango festivals where you keep dancing until 4 in the morning or until your feet give out, because the romance of it all is just that good that you simply can’t stop… I think I danced a week straight of milongas in Istanbul, and my soul could not have been happier for it.  

While I was there, it just so happened to be the Istanbul Tango Festival!  Festivals bring in dancers from all over the world.  Plenty of dancers in the scene travel around the world hitting up the best festivals in the best locales, whether oceanside, like Cancun or Croatia, or in the mountains, like Norway.  For those that don’t know, festivals are week-long experiences with daily workshops, nightly milongas, and performances.  Professional couples are brought in to teach the classes and at the end of the week give special performances during the intermissions at the milongas.  One of the couples brought in to the Istanbul festival was an amazing, young Italian couple, Giampiero Galdi & Lorena Tarantino, one of the most sought out couples around the world, who gave a memorable show!   

Aaaand I had a secret love affair those weeks . . . but not what you think.  Turkey is famous for their sweets, and even though I’m not normally one to order desserts or want sweets, there does come a time and place where certain such temptations are warranted indulgences.  Every outdoor market I strolled through, every busy street I trudged along had bakeries filled to the brim with abundant displays of treats of all sorts.  From jelly Turkish delights coated in powdered sugar, to rich tahini and honey halva, to the most famous, baklava.  And so, Baklava and I began our courtship, on the best of terms, and my sweet, nutty, honey pastry friend and I got to know each other on an intimate scale.  

Baklava showed up and showed off in numerous styles, shapes, and nut flavors, sweetness level, and fillings, beckoning me forth from different tempting bakeries donning their best displays, in their own silent style like a call to prayer.  I did my best to feed the good hedonist that lives inside me and satisfy almost all her longing demands those weeks.  These thriving, enlivened bakeries stayed open late, and often, on my way back to my hotel, after a night of dancing, I would make my visit and treat myself to a bite of baklava goodness.

Not only were the sweets something to fawn over.  Turkish cuisine hits all the notes for a meal that delights the senses.  As a chef, I love trying new cuisines, discovering new flavors, new possibilities inspiring me to emulate later.  Aside from the perks of sovereignty, solo traveling does have its downfalls, one of those being, eating alone– not being able to share in a good meal and conversation.  But I didn’t let that stop me.  My last day in Istanbul was sadly upon me, so I decided to treat myself and go out with a bang.  On the way to the ferry station, I made a visit to witness my favorite street musician and stood once more before his set, the perfect soundtrack to the sparkling day mixed with cool and warmth, allowing the music to permeate me.   His voice and presence were a kind of, stop–you–in–your–tracks, kind of invocation, as he dedicatedly plucked away at his long-neck saz guitar.  Haunting… filled with soulful depth capable of piercing one to their core, hitting emotions, making you remember…things…

I hopped on the boat from Kadıköy (Asian side) over to Karaköy (the European side), picked a restaurant along the seaside and made my way to the top floor for the best view.  I discussed with the waiter what I wanted and soon he returned with a tray full of small mezes sampling numerous vegetable and fish dishes.  Before me was a platter of decadent goodness:  pickled sea bass with pickled red onions and mustard seeds in curry spices; Balik kavurma (sautéed fish) in a hot pot with whole pearl onions, garlic, red and green peppers, and clarified butter; broiled octopus also in delicious salty butter; muhumarra, my favorite roasted red pepper dip, and baba ghanoush smokey eggplant dip.  My senses fired, launching into overdrive, as I sampled the full palate of flavors before me.  I had found myself in a slice of heaven, happily drowned in a sea of spices, as I looked out onto the Bosporus River.  Birds swarmed, playing in swooping currents amidst the bustle of ferries navigating back and forth.  My eyes took in the horizon once more, tracing the city skyline with its modern buildings mixed with a sprinkling of classic Muslim mosques and their minarets, (the thin pointed spires pointing to the sky) from where the call to prayer sounds.

With my legs sore, and my belly happy I departed Istanbul.  It was one of those places I absolutely knew I’d be back. For more tango, for more food and sweet indulgences, and more street roaming and cultural exploring. For now, it was time to go visit my bestie in South Africa.  Stay tuned . . .