Continental Hotspot

On the morning of May 1st 2013 I woke up in a hostel in Istanbul with about 15 folks from my student association. We were there for a week long trip to do some touristy stuff, visit the embassy and meet with representatives of a union (we initially wanted to talk with representatives of the pro-Kurdish HDP but we were persuaded not to). Our hostel was spartan in its facilities but still cosy and ideally located just off of Istiklal Street and only a minute or two south of the famous Taksim Square where a metro station could take us to the city center.

Like the days previously I got out of bed a bit earlier than the others (I’m a bit of an early bird) and still groggy I headed out to find food. While most shops are closed in the early morning a couple blocks away there was a sort of minimart that I had found previously where I’d buy my food for the day. It really was the sort of store you can’t find anymore in Western countries. It had everything you could imagine from fresh coffee and all sorts of foods to toilet paper and cleaning products stacked to the ceiling. You had to be careful not to knock something over, that’s how cramped it was. I particularly liked their warm fresh baguettes and the cheese I could combine for a simple but filling breakfast.

I wasn’t in a hurry to get back to the others most wouldn’t be awake for at least another half hour I figured. So I casually strolled back on my flip-flops and rubbed the sleep out of my eyes. As I took my third bite of my baguette-du-fromage I heard a loud BANG. I jumped. The sound echoed between the high buildings. Because I couldn’t see where the sound came from or what had caused it I continued on my way to the hostel. As I came around the second to last corner on my route I could see some of my friends who had apparently had the same idea for a (somewhat) early breakfast as me emerge out of a side street at speed. They looked alarmed. “There’s police everywhere“, they said. A din that sounded like a combination of a football match and New Year’s Eve now also reached our ears.

That’s when we found out why our hostel was so much cheaper that week than all the other ones in the general area and why we were the only guests. Our hostel was the closest one to the now infamous protest-heart of Istanbul: Taksim Square.

We rounded the last corner to the hostel and saw that at the far end of the street a large group of people was protesting and behind them was a large contingent of fierce looking police officers. The situation was tense. Not knowing what to do exactly we decided to make a run for it and sprint for the hostel which was only a third of the way between us and the protesters.

As we ran up the stairs and filled into the common room the last of our group now also awoken by the sounds outside joined us. I and two others who had made it up first were immediately bombarded with questions along the lines of “Yo what’s going on?” but before we could answer any of them we heard shouting behind us. The last of our party and several people we didn’t know came running up the stairs, two, three steps at the time. They burst into the common room shouting in Dutch and Turkish “Close the windows!” “Close the doors!” “Close the windows!”. As I looked to the window a large cloud of what looked like fog drifted into view.

Chaos broke out. We scrambled over and tried to get the windows closed as quickly as possible. People we shouting and crying. Almost immediately a penetrating scent hit me before my eyes started watering and my vision became blurry. Fumbling around we somehow managed to get the windows closed. A sharp stinging sensation like chopping a thousand onions set my eyes on fire.

With the windows closed I looked around as best I could. It seemed everyone of my friends was there. But many had teary red eyes and several were coughing. I tried to wipe the tears out of my eyes but that did nothing. I simply could not stop crying, no matter how much I wiped at my eyes, the stinging remained.

From a small office in the back the owner of the restaurant appeared to deal with all the commotion. After a snippy comment that the windows had been closed that morning for a reason (though he had of course failed to mention that to us) he sprung into action and commanded everyone with symptoms into his kitchen. From under his refrigerator he pulled an entire crate of lemons and started cutting them in half. He then turned on the tap and left it on. One by one he gestured us to put our heads backwards as he poured copious amounts of lemon juice into to our eyes. “Don’t worry this will help“. And strangely enough, or perhaps of course, it did help. After being given this treatment he then told us to put our eyes under the tap water and to keep them open while we did so. The relief was instant. The lemon juice had apparently neutralised the teargas and was then itself washed away by the tap water.

With everyone treated save one girl who was afraid of the lemons (she kept complaining the rest of the day) we took stock of the situation. The first thing on my mind was why this guy had this ridiculous amount of lemons right to go when he needed it. When I asked him why, he told me he always kept a box of lemons ready for May 1st. He must have seen the look of confusion on my face because he elaborated: “May 1st is Labour day. Do you not have Labour day in your country?” Well I mean yes, but not like this!

It then quickly emerged that I was the only one that had managed to score breakfast and that the hostel didn’t have enough food for all of us. Venturing outside was unappealing to everyone but we had to get some food somehow. It was at that moment that the hostel owner piped in with a very helpful: “Well guys if you want to go outside you should do so now because it is only going to get worse today. You could try heading out of the neighbourhood and go to the city center. But don’t take the metro. You’d have to go to Taksim. You don’t want to go there right now.“

We voted on what to do. By now our street had been cleared by the police and the teargas had dissipated so we could try to get out of dodge. After some back and forth everyone agreed that staying put wasn’t an option and that we should try to get to the city center.

Heading out the first few blocks seemed ok. But as we tried going south our route was blocked by a police blockade. The same was true for the next street. And the street after that. We had been boxed in with the protests.

We successfully evaded this police blockade though by following a young muslim couple with a baby in a stroller. They were clearly in the same pickle as us. They saw us and beckoned us to come with them. We ducked into a restaurant and went all the way through it out onto a street outside the cordon. The police had closed of the streets but had forgotten to close off this circuitous route. Or perhaps they figured that the sort of rowdy protesters they were trying to contain wouldn’t be allowed through and that the restaurant owners would call the police if those folks tried. In any case we were passed the blockade.

We then made our way south through various narrow side streets away from all the commotion. As we hit upon the Golden Horn river separating our Galata neighbourhood from the old city center (both on the Western side of the Bosporus) we faced a renewed police obstacle:

The police had ordered all bridges between Karaköy and the city center to be opened to prevent people from going to Taksim square and the unrests there from spreading towards the heart of the city. We desperately didn’t want to be stuck sitting by waterside doing nothing all day, constantly on the look out for trouble, so we looked for any other way across. Luckily there is a small ferry mooring dock nearby. These ferries normally take people across the Bosporus or further up the river but they didn’t seem to be doing much today as all of them were birthed at the quay. The police also ordered a halt to ferry operations apparently.

A small crowd of tourists was forming at the quay however and we joined hoping that a ferry might take us across anyway. Most of the captains of the larger ferries looked bored and uninterested but some tourists were having intense but hushed conversations with some of the captains of the smaller boats. We joined in on the discussion hoping to persuade at least one of them to take us to the other side. After much debate we finally convinced a captain to take us to the city center for 40 lira per person. Given that the trip was a literal 200 meters to the other side this was ridiculously expensive in any other circumstance. But I guess for essentially bribing our way across it wasn’t all that expensive. At least it didn’t seem like they guy was all that happy with our final offer. In any case we were happy to be out of there.

Incidentally the bridge in the picture above is the Galata Bridge. If you look closely you’ll see there’s tons of little restaurants and small shops right underneath it. You can eat amazing fish of all kinds there which you shouldn’t miss out on when you are there. On ordinary days you can see old men sitting on top of the bridge fishing with nets and fishing poles getting your diner ready and you can actually talk to them and choose a specific fish you want to eat (if you pay them a little so they’ll bring it downstairs).

During the rest of the day we stayed in the city center where the government had things tightly locked down. In the city center you should definitely visit the Blue Mosque, the Topkapi Palace and the Grand Bazaar. For the Blue Mosque make sure you wear long trousers even if it is a bit warm outside. They provide shawls for the women but men are just expected to not show up in Hawaii shorts and flip-flops. The men coming there to pray will be annoyed at you both if you go in wearing shorts and if you wear a shawl around your legs. For the Topkapi Palace buy your tickets in advance so you can skip the line which stretches around the block.

At the Grand Bazaar I bought my first apple tea. Although I wouldn’t have guessed so at the time that was the start of my tea collection (I have something like thirty different flavours and kinds by now). After visiting the Grand Bazaar I can recommend having lunch in the grass at Sarachane Park. The Roman aqueduct of Valens and Shehzade Mosque provide for great ambience there and it isn’t too busy.

Personally I thought the Hagia Sophia was overrated however. Especially compared to say the Blue Mosque or the Topkapi Palace. That was mostly due to the immense amount of tourists in the building and the omnipresent souvenir stalls inside. Now I know Hagia Sophia is no longer an active church or mosque but given the entire sight I couldn’t help but be reminded of Matthew 21:12-13 where Jesus throws all the merchants out of the temple. It all seemed sort of disrespectful. Almost no one seemed to be paying attention to the Viking inscriptions either which for me was the most impressive thing there.

All in all I can highly recommend Istanbul if you haven’t been there before. Just don’t go on May 1st!