Exploring Istanbul, Unaccompanied and Unburdened.

Outside the Grand Bazaar

My grandmother was taught to be a lady at all times. She, in turn, did her best to influence my mother in the same way. This was ultimately a failure as Mum famously climbed out of the window during most of her elocution and etiquette lessons. It dawned on me while walking down a main public street, eating a family-sized pizza accidentally ordered due to a language mix-up, that this might explain why people say I sometimes stray from elegance. This was only the first night in Istanbul. Tomorrow would be better, more refined, more of an adventure.

I had checked into the Novus Pera Hotel, which was in the Pera district of Beyoğlu. I had only booked it a few days before. I’d looked for cheap and clean, and this place had at least virtually fulfilled my expectations. In person, it had exceeded what I had expected. At £45 per night, I had expected small and basic, but what I got was newly renovated, stylish, well-thought-out and perfect for someone travelling on their own. The room was decorated in the style of a downtown New York loft with faux luggage piled in the corner and three black metal French windows opening onto Juliet balconies. The view was terrible. I was looking directly into the living rooms of Istanbul’s residents from every angle, but I was already lucky with this hotel. It was unfair to let this small point affect my overall judgement.

The Steps Near Taksim Station

The hotel owners welcomed me at the front desk, with the concern of elderly uncles. They ensured that I had activities to occupy myself with every day and knew exactly where I was going. I was their first solo female traveller, and they made it their duty to keep track of where I was.

My wanderings began every day by taking the Taksim-Tünel Nostalgia Tramway downhill to the main city. The historical tram is an electric restoration of the city's horse-drawn system that operated in the late 1800s. It cuts out at least an hour of walking down zig-zagging stone steps, and I was eternally grateful at the end of the day when I was able to avoid climbing back up them.

I chose to see the major attractions of the city, rather than finding a more unique path as I usually would, travelling with company. I had travelled on my own before, but not for long. I was content on this occasion to follow the queues. The main places I wanted to visit in the city were Hagia Sophia, Topkapı Palace, the Blue Mosque, and the Grand Bazaar. I visited each with enthusiasm. I was in awe of the beauty and shared cultural history of Hagia Sophia, felt chagrined at Topkapı Palace (I was a little too enthusiastic with pictures and got yelled at for trying to take a picture of the sacred relics), underwhelmed by the Blue Mosque, which was partially under construction and overwhelmed at the Grand Bazaar, where I bought nothing but haggled with many.

My only regret from the trip was not looking into what a Turkish bath involved. While the experience was undoubtedly enjoyable, anyone unfamiliar with the process might be caught off guard by the level of physical intimacy it entails. The exfoliation is no gentle affair, think less serene spa, more carpenter sanding down a stubborn piece of wood, with me as the wood. I was especially taken aback when my attendant began vigorously scrubbing my chest with a kese, a coarse mitt designed to slough off layers of dead skin. This was a far cry from the soothing, tranquil ritual I had imagined after skimming hotel brochures. That said, I left the hammam feeling cleaner than I had in weeks, and my skin had never felt softer, especially after days of travel.

I had crammed two weeks’ worth of experiences into just seven days and still came away feeling refreshed. Free from needing to answer to anyone else, I saw only what interested me, moved at my own pace, and didn’t have to worry about keeping someone else entertained. Every sight, sound, taste, and smell was filtered entirely through my somewhat naive lens, making the journey uniquely personal and unforgettable.