Dec. 26: On this frost-bitten morning, after seemingly seeing snow for the first time, we headed for our second and newer Sultanate palace of the trip: the Dolmabahçe Palace, lived in by the famous Kamal Atatürk, father of modern Turkey. This European-style palace was perhaps the most ostentatious place I’ve ever seen, complete with the world’s largest Bohemian crystal chandelier, a crystal staircase (for sheeze), alabaster floors, and carpets bigger than my apartment (also for sheeze).
It was much different than the simpler, more functional Topkapı Palace. But, despite the flamboyance of the rulers who wielded power of the massive Ottoman Empire from this residence, there was only one, small, lonely ottoman left. For shame, Atatürk!
The day was later lubricated by a salty yogurt drink (called Ayran), a fiberous lunch, and a bowl of what was later, accurately called the “dessert of regularity.” Poosville, daddio!
Afterward, we wandered the Moorish hallways of the labyrinthine Grand Bazaar, where I haggled and bought lots of needless gifts (most of them for myself – did I really need three more pairs of jeans?). Here I met and was practically fondled by a gorgeously famous Turkish pop singing sensation named Tugba Ekinci, who apparently is a bad singer. She was being followed by a TV crew, which got me on camera with my arm around her, showing her that I am married and, therefore, unfortunately not eligible to be her Kevin Federlein.
At this point, Breanna came up with an idea for a video game in which you have to find your way through the bazaar, buy the things on your shopping list, and shoot the swindling, insulting, in-your-face, jump-out-in-front-of-you-and-dangle-merchandise-in-your-eye merchants. I’d play that shit.
That night, the four of us paced up and down Istiklal Caddesi, the main pedestrian thoroughfare in Beyoglu, the very European neighborhood around our hotel, where we set out to buy Turkish Delights from the shop that started it all – Haci Bekir. We also ended up buying a brick of sweetened Saharan sand there, which I’ll comment on later, and found a nice restaurant where we licked clean our plates that we swear we filled with “all the foods that no one else would eat,” (including several unidentifiable and colorful desserts that could easily have been scraped from the bottom of an old Turkish man’s shoes). Many of the dishes were meats, of that we’re sure. The others…?
Later, we played cards and laughed so hard at the ½ kilo hunk of gritty sand – sitting untouched and unwanted on the coffee table in Jay and Linda’s room – that Linda peed herself. The sandy substance, called Halva is made from sugar, pistachios, and moon dust. Taking a bite is like licking sugar off a bath towel and jokes abounded that night.
Dec. 27: This final day was slow and relaxing.
It included a funicular to the top of one of Istanbul’s seven hills, some STRONG Turkish kahve (coffee), a miserable attempt to recreate the “Oh my love, my darling” scene in the movie Ghost, some Turkish Chay (tea), a stop by what was known to the Byzantines as "the center of the world," a final dead-man-walking strut through the Grand Bazaar, and without a doubt, the best meat I’ve ever tasted. 
The meat was served at a fancy-pants kebab house near the airport called Beyti’s that has served everyone from Arthur Miller to Serena Williams to Bill Clinton. This place is the holy temple of meat. The holy of holies. And served the following, all of which I would consider on my list of “the best I’ve ever had”:
Lamb
Döner kebab meat (whatever that is)
Beef
Lamb and beef kebabs
Rice
Eggplant puree
OK, so the last two aren’t meats; but they were also really freaking good. And, while we were there, Mr. Beyti himself even stopped by our table, asked us where we were from and how we liked the food, and then sat down at a table near us to enjoy his own tender meats. The joke was: “ ‘I’ll have the salad,’ he said.”
Afterward, we headed for the airport for a flight on Turkish Air – with a 100% lateness policy.
It was truly one of the – if not the – best trip I’ve been on. And, on that sappy note, I have to say in all seriousness that family, food, and fun actually can go together in perfect harmony. Just add Istanbul and a couple glasses of raki!
Also, here are a couple random learnings:
60% of Turks can’t swim, despite one of the most popular beach scenes in the Mediterranean.
70% of Turks don’t want to be in the EU, despite the fact that it’s the freaking EU.
A harem is not just half-clad women. It’s actually the Sultan’s repressed family.
Justinian I was a great man – he set up and ruled over Constantinople.
The word Istanbul is probably Greek for “to the city.”
Rapid expansion of the Ottoman Empire was not due to a need for new footstools.
Circumcisions are usually performed on boys around age 8.
Tulips come from Turkey.
Linda is easily frightened by Algerian men.
Santa and the Christmas tree are, in Turkey, symbols of the New Year.
Turkish merchants are must less pushy than their Egyptian and Moroccan counterparts.
That night, the four of us paced up and down Istiklal Caddesi, the main pedestrian thoroughfare in Beyoglu, the very European neighborhood around our hotel, where we set out to buy Turkish Delights from the shop that started it all – Haci Bekir. We also ended up buying a brick of sweetened Saharan sand there, which I’ll comment on later, and found a nice restaurant where we licked clean our plates that we swear we filled with “all the foods that no one else would eat,” (including several unidentifiable and colorful desserts that could easily have been scraped from the bottom of an old Turkish man’s shoes). Many of the dishes were meats, of that we’re sure. The others…?
Later, we played cards and laughed so hard at the ½ kilo hunk of gritty sand – sitting untouched and unwanted on the coffee table in Jay and Linda’s room – that Linda peed herself. The sandy substance, called Halva is made from sugar, pistachios, and moon dust. Taking a bite is like licking sugar off a bath towel and jokes abounded that night.
Dec. 27: This final day was slow and relaxing.
It included a funicular to the top of one of Istanbul’s seven hills, some STRONG Turkish kahve (coffee), a miserable attempt to recreate the “Oh my love, my darling” scene in the movie Ghost, some Turkish Chay (tea), a stop by what was known to the Byzantines as "the center of the world," a final dead-man-walking strut through the Grand Bazaar, and without a doubt, the best meat I’ve ever tasted. The meat was served at a fancy-pants kebab house near the airport called Beyti’s that has served everyone from Arthur Miller to Serena Williams to Bill Clinton. This place is the holy temple of meat. The holy of holies. And served the following, all of which I would consider on my list of “the best I’ve ever had”:Lamb
Döner kebab meat (whatever that is)
Beef
Lamb and beef kebabs
Rice
Eggplant puree
OK, so the last two aren’t meats; but they were also really freaking good. And, while we were there, Mr. Beyti himself even stopped by our table, asked us where we were from and how we liked the food, and then sat down at a table near us to enjoy his own tender meats. The joke was: “ ‘I’ll have the salad,’ he said.”
Afterward, we headed for the airport for a flight on Turkish Air – with a 100% lateness policy.
It was truly one of the – if not the – best trip I’ve been on. And, on that sappy note, I have to say in all seriousness that family, food, and fun actually can go together in perfect harmony. Just add Istanbul and a couple glasses of raki!
Also, here are a couple random learnings:
60% of Turks can’t swim, despite one of the most popular beach scenes in the Mediterranean.
70% of Turks don’t want to be in the EU, despite the fact that it’s the freaking EU.
A harem is not just half-clad women. It’s actually the Sultan’s repressed family.
Justinian I was a great man – he set up and ruled over Constantinople.
The word Istanbul is probably Greek for “to the city.”
Rapid expansion of the Ottoman Empire was not due to a need for new footstools.
Circumcisions are usually performed on boys around age 8.
Tulips come from Turkey.
Linda is easily frightened by Algerian men.
Santa and the Christmas tree are, in Turkey, symbols of the New Year.
Turkish merchants are must less pushy than their Egyptian and Moroccan counterparts.
