Brendan in Bombay: April 2012

When I mentioned Istanbul as my next travel destination, most people exclaimed how unique and cool that sounded. I tended to agree, but without any really factual evidence or experience to assert that statement. I think it stems from the fact that Istanbul is such a bustling city with the rare claim to straddle both Europe and Asia. It's this convergence point of geography and culture that always peeks my curiosity along with a fascinating history.

My initial sights were coming off the tram in the middle of Sultanahmet (the old city), and falling in line with the crowds cruising around beautiful old mosques and architecture that represents Istanbul's rich and varied history of Roman, Christian, and Muslim influences. When Peter arrived on the scene it was funny to compare our first sentiments about the city. He noticed that everything was less clean and more poorly maintained than Germany. Obviously in comparison to India, I felt the streets were pristine and was amazed at the efficiency of the public transport. We both settled on the fact that Istanbul was a great middle ground between the neurotic sense of maintenance in Germany, and the glaring lack of concern for public space in India. There was no need to fall in line and "follow the crowd", but also people did not squat or throw trash around in the open.

I'll leave the finer details of our trip to Pat and Pete, as I've been promised (again) that I will receive some commentary from them. My affection for the city resulted from the simple pleasures of strolling around the small hilly streets, and weaving through corner cafes and vendor's stalls. The city is split into a Europe and Asia side by the Bosphorus Straight, which made the experience of traveling the city all the more enjoyable as we had to shuffle between a tram, ferry, bus, taxi, you name it. The many rolling hills dotted with old houses or mosque spires were best enjoyed as we sipped Turkish coffee, tea, and the every popular, pretty much only available beer, Efes.

I'll end with my experience on the last day before heading to the airport. Pat and Pete already took off for their flights, and I had a few hours to kill on what was a rainy and pretty dreary day all around. So, I decided to venture out for a visit to the local barber. When we were in the bath house I noticed a barber's chair in the corner with the quintessential leather chair and neatly lined grooming equipment. Then as we walked around the city I spotted more and more red and white spinning lampposts that are the global sign for a barber's shop. Never having received a hot shave from a barber before I thought it would be nice to relax and freshen up while wasting time in Istanbul (a sentence that I may never be able to say again).

I asked the hostel manager to find me a suitable local spot, and sure enough he called his guy who sent over his young son (I think that was the relation) as an escort with the assumption I would not be able to find the place on my own. As a kid myself I was always taught never to assume, well in this case the assumption was necessary as the kid guided me past some of the tourist spots, twisting through some apartment doors, down a hallway, out in to a cafe street, and up a small staircase to the barber shop overlooking a small shopping alley. Needless to say I would never have found the place on my own.

The shop's appearance was nothing out of the ordinary. Most of the room was occupied by two large chairs iwith the proper accompanying barber's tools on shelves surrounding the two main mirrors. In tune with the old time feel of a barber shop, a couple guys were sitting in the corner smoking cigarettes by the cracked window as they wasted time before they were to be groomed. They may have just been there socializing for all I know as they continually gabbed across the room with the other customer sitting next to me.

In any case, the barber was less than conversant in English, but understood easily enough that I wanted a quick hair cut and shave. He had the olive tan skin specked with two days growth of a beard that showed off his Turkish lineage. I was immediately impressed by the intensity with which he observed my facial hair to determine the proper technique to use blade, but also with his skill and how fluidly he lathered my face with shaving cream. I must admit that I was a bit hesitant having someone flashing an old style razor blade around my exposed neck, yet he quickly inspired confidence with his almost surgical like precision in handling the razor on my face.

It was actually a very relaxing experience after getting over the initial trepidation. Throughout the process he had the young boy mop up and clean his tools and sink. The other guys in the shop were joking around with the boy, and everyone was laughing as they tried to explain to me some of the jokes. At several different points my barber would stop to have a cigarette, exhaling with satisfaction and declaring in broken English that nothing could be sweeter than sharing a few laughs while providing a service he was so passionate about. Top it off with the quick pleasure only a drag from a cigarette can provide and the world was a good place.

We shared a cup of tea in between my shave and hair cut, and I listened as he boasted about the gorgeous women Turkey produces. Men are men, especially in the laid back day-time atmosphere of the barber shop so I relished in his description of the regional (albeit physical) differences in Turkish women. During my trim, he again stared very intently at my hair before executing each snip, and joked again with the other guys standing around. When all was said and done he had the boy give me an arm and shoulder massage so he could have another smoke. The proverbial cherry on top was when he lit a small cotton ball on fire and waved it fleetingly across my face to burn off any excess hairs. Then a small smack of aftershave and powder on my neck, and my time in the chair was done.

It was definitely a barber shop through and through. I enjoyed the casual setting off the beaten path and shielded a couple floors up and away from the day's gloomy weather. We were guys with little communication between us, but all able to enjoy the small pleasure a couple jokes, a few smokes, and a nice hot shave can provide. (unfortunately I don't have any pictures of this experience).