My trip to Cameroon wound up being routed through Istanbul, not something I’d initially planned, but still a thought that pleased. I left a chilly upstate New York (mid-May), where coming gardens, ending classes, and finishing professional papers occupied my thoughts. Such concerns gave way, as a I boarded the plane in New York City, to immersion in the world of my youth. The airline, Türk Hava Yolları, was the one I had first flown in Turkey in 1955[1]—at the age of nine! But the ‘equipment’ was much changed. Flying business class, occupying one of those modern ‘seats’ in which one can lie flat, I enjoyed listening to the sounds of the Turkish language fill my ear. I could catch many individual words, but had to struggle to identify phrases, and failed completely at understanding whole sentences. But the flight attendants—who beautifully exemplified Turkey’s famed hospitality—fed me wonderful Turkish food, and I basked in nostalgia. Börek (cheese-filled pastries) were advertised for breakfast, and I felt the sting of disappointment when this turned out not to be provided. But my good humour returned with the breakfast—a common one of fresh tomatoes, white cheese, and olives, green and black, on one plate; granola in creamy yoghurt on another; fresh fruit; tasty rolls. I remembered the tangy flavours and was struck by their distinctness, one from another. Now and then there was a light air of Turkish music filling the air. A trip to the restroom brought the scent of lemon eau de cologne, used widely in the Turkey I’d known.
My stay in Istanbul was only 1 hour, and our plane was late on the way to Cameroon, so I only got the slightest taste of Istanbul’s airport. Still, it was a pleasure to realize I was in this country of my youth. I’d left in 1961 and only been back twice, each time for brief stays.
Today, coming into Istanbul, it was daylight and I had a window seat. I could see the complex geography, with rivers and straits and seas and forests and city all interspersed in a lovely mosaic more visible from above than from the ground. It’s truly a lovely city. My eyes filled with tears of gratitude that I could see it again and in such a clear and panoramic way.
In the airport, I heard more Turkish all around me, though filtered through a cosmopolitan mélange of ethnicities, languages, sights and sounds. One store was aiming to replicate a Turkish bazaar, selling all sorts of Turkish memorabilia. Out front was a little ice cream stall with the salesman dressed in Ottoman attire. I remembered how I’d loved vişne dondurma (cherry ice cream), and asked if they had it; no, only chocolate, vanilla and pistachio. I got the mixture of the three, and was transported back to my youth—the smooth, creamy flavor caressing my tongue, delicious if different from American ice cream. The bazaar was not open and roomy like the rest of the airport; it had narrow paths through crowded shelves, somewhat like a real bazaar, and I was again transported. The wares included Duty Free items of course (alcohol, candy, perfume), but also beautiful silver jewelry, famous Turkish pottery, the delicate and distinctively rounded tea glasses. I bought two mugs with Turkish scenes to remind me of my stay there and a keychain for my grandson, Stone, who collects them. There was gold for sale in the airport too—something I was looking at in anticipation of my son’s coming marriage in a Muslim ceremony. But it was too expensive and not in tune with what I imagined his fiancée’s taste to be.
I was given a Turkish newspaper in English, and was amazed at an article about the terrible treatment of Armenians in the early 1900s—a topic utterly taboo for nearly a century in Turkey. The advances that Turkey has made, both in terms of material comforts and less concrete issues like freedom of the press, are phenomenal. I wish I could return for a longer stay and recoup some of my lost ability at speaking Turkish, among many other things. It’s probably not meant to be; but I am grateful for these tantalizing tastes of a time gone by.
[1] This was the year the airline took its present name. By 1958, they had 28 planes, mostly DC-3s; now they have 227 top-of-the-line planes serving 222 locations around the world (“80 Proud Years,” Skylife, May 2013) and still excellent service!