Turkey in Turkey

The joke is juvenile, I know, but who hasn't wanted to eat turkey in Turkey? Well, I lived the dream this Thanksgiving thanks to an amazing weeklong sojourn in Istanbul with my college buddies, James, Jesse and Maya. James, having lived in Istanbul for nearly three years now, served as as our better-than-native guide (even looks the part, right?). The trip just happened to coincide with Thanksgiving, which we celebrated in the home of a charming expat and in the company of a very international crowd. James' roommate Kirk performed the extraordinary feat of preparing a turkey in a toaster oven (having dismembered and brined it in advance, he managed to cook the whole thing in three separate batches). I pitched in with my first ever rectangular apple pie!

But the main course and dessert weren't the only unusual elements of this year's festivities. Never before have I attended a Thanksgiving dinner that came to an end with a group of North American female expats dancing with mustached Turkish men to Madonna's "Like a Prayer." I think I can safely call that both a first and a last.

Istanbul has been described ad infinitum as a unique blend of Europe and the Middle East and an amalgam of secular and sacred influences. I don't want to reiterate what's already been said,

but I must say the picture seems fairly accurate. Despite having all the trappings of a typical European metropolis, the continual citywide chanting of the Muezzin is a continuous reminder that Turkey is indeed a Muslim land.

With James as our fearless leader, we ate our share of kebabs,

smoked our share of nargilah, played our share of backgammon, bought our share of pottery and still found time to conquer the old city walls and an ancient fort or two (not to mention the daily conquest of 100+ steps leading up to James' flat...as you can see from Jesse's expression, the view from the terrace made the trek worthwhile). The only adventure I could have done without was the night I spent at Jesse's side in a public hospital thanks to a sudden onslaught of kidney stones. With the help of our new friend and trusty translator, Farouk, we were able to appreciate how very colorful a Turkish hospital can be (one translation went as follows: "Doctor, I'm in pain! My ten-year-old child did my stitches!"). By the following morning—thank Allah—the stones had passed and Jesse was back to guzzling arak and gobbling baklava with the rest of us.

My last morning was certainly the most, uh, eye-opening (to say the least!). It began with a 7:00am outing to the Hamam, which turned out to be opening only at 8:00am that day because of Kurban Bayram (the annual sacrificial holiday). Still half-asleep, we bided our time in a neighboring park situated between two mosques, and, while nibbling on börek and sipping sweet tea, watched the mosque-goers scurry in the direction of the call to prayer. Back at the baths I nervously took leave of my male companions but was lucky to have the women's bath entirely to myself. I stretched out on the hot marble slab and shut my eyes for a few minutes, only to be awoken by a heavy, big-busted woman wearing nothing but black lace underwear and carrying a pumice. Not exactly a calming sight! But it was fantastic. Soaped, scrubbed, soaked and sloughed and I emerged a new woman. On our way back home, and about twenty minutes prior to my departure, the purity of the morning was rudely disrupted by the sight (and smell) of ritual slaughter. In honor of the holiday, a dozen cows were packed into a kind of garage/warehouse, where they were sacrificed and carved up to be divided among families and the poor. Thankfully we missed the actual slaughter, but the butchery was conducted in plain view. How's that for a dramatic farewell to Istanbul?! Needless to say, I needed to recover from the sensory overload with a nap on my flight back to Tel Aviv. I returned home with two beautiful ceramic bowls, a few boxes of Turkish delight and memories to last a lifetime.

SIDE NOTE: Evidently the Turks have come up with a naturopathic alternative to the swine flu vaccine. Forget an apple a day, just try a glass of pomegranate juice!