New York may be The Big Apple. Paris may be the City of Lights. And after being in Istanbul for 2 days, I’d have to say that Istanbul is the City of Prayers and Spices. Everywhere you go in this city, the air is filled with the scent of spices and herbs as you see men on their bended knees in supplication to Allah. As a city that straddles two continents, it’s a city of contrasts, of architecture old and new, of a culture both religious and secular, and of cuisine both East and West. It was the perfect place for us to enjoy new adventures while indulging in our past.
Yesterday we had a chance to visit the Grand Bazaar with our friend Lale whom my parents met over 25 years ago in the town where my Grandmother was born – Canakkle (pronounced “cha-nah-kah-LAY”). Canakkle is the modern name of the area of what was once known as ancient Troy. Lale brought her friend Isaac, whom we found out after a few minutes was also from Canakkle, shared a few of the names we had in our own family – Candiotti and Gormizano. If the name Gormizano looks familiar that’s because it is the real name of Edyie Gorme, whose family came from Canakkle and was distantly related to my Grandmother. Like most immigrants, they shortened their name when they came to U.S. Can you imagine if they hadn’t? “Ladies and Gentleman, please welcome to the Stardust, Steve Lawrence and Edyie Gormizano!”
Lale and Isaac became our interpreters for the day as roamed the halls of the Grand Bazaar, as we looked and bargained for souvenirs. At one point Lale exclaimed “Mashallah” which I recognized instantly as a word my Grandmother used to say whenever she saw a beautiful baby or someone she was very proud of. I asked Lale what it meant in Turkish and she said it meant “Praise Allah” and that was said as a means to ward of the evil eye. Immediately, I came to understand that it was a word that the Sephardic Jews who lived in Turkey and Greece appropriated but which was actually a word that Muslims used. Now I know what to say when most Ashkenazi Jews say “kenahora”. I’ll just say “Mashallah” instead! Isaac and Lale then took us for a walk down cobblestone streets to the Egyptian Bazaar, otherwise known as the Spice Market. There, we were overcome by the scent of a thousand spices – Curry and Cardamom, Cinnamon and Cumin. The sight of piles of rainbow colored spices and herbs was incredible. Now we were hungry!
Though we thought we could just find a restaurant and sit down, we were told that if we didn’t move fast, we’d be out of luck. That’s because in the Muslim calendar it is Ramadan, and as such, Muslims fast all day but eat from 7:30 pm to 4 am. We quickly found a great Turkish restaurant near Spice Market just before the Ramadan crowds began. We had more great food and topped it all off with creamy rice pudding just like Grandma used to make. We got back to our cabin on the ship wondering if we ever needed to eat again.
Today, we had an early pick up at the port and drove 45 minutes outside of central Istanbul to meet our cousins, Joseph Abrevaya and his wife Sara. Joseph and my dad are second cousins; their Grandfathers were brothers. While my dad’s family moved to the United States, Joseph’s parents stayed in Turkey. My parents had first met Joseph and his wife Sarah in 1982 but I had never met them before. If you would ask me to pick them out of a crowd, it would’ve been easy; the family resemblance was scary. Every Abrevaya looks the same! Joseph, a hearty and strong 89 years old and his wife Sara, who is 82, both spoke good English but the conversation veered in and out of Turkish, English and Ladino, the Judeo Spanish language of Sephardic Jews that my Grandmother spoke to us. We found out that a Great-Great Uncle, Jack Abrevaya was an interpreter to the Grand Sultan of Turkey and that the Abrevayas all share a tendency to be hard of hearing or deaf and live to be in their late 80’s and 90’s; some have lived to be over 100! “Mashallah!”
I forgot to mention that when we walked into the Abrevaya house, I was instantly transported back to my childhood and my Grandmother’s house. There were the familiar scents of borekas and boyos, of cheese and olives; a visit to a Sephardic household is ever done without food. We looked pictures and delved into memories of families who were separated by years and miles but who still remained close to each other’s hearts. How awesome it was to know that I was sitting in a room with a man with whom I shared the same Great Great Grandfather!
Soon it was time to head back to our ship and we said our goodbyes. It was great to know that we didn’t have to wonder if we’d return to Istanbul to see each other again; the Abrevayas go each year to Chicago to visit their children. Back at the port we indulged in one more Turkish treat and we had “cay” (pronounced “chai” and which means tea in Turkish, served in little curved glasses) and Baklava with Lale and Isaac at the restaurant that first popularized the sweet honey and nut treat in Istanbul. I noticed that unlike the hard chewy Baklava we had in Rhodes, this Baklava was soft and delicate. When I asked Lale where Baklava really came from – Greece or Turkey, she asked me which Baklava I liked better; the one I was just eating or the one we had a few days ago in Greece. The one I was eating right now, I told her. “Need I say more?” she replied.
Tonight we sail up the Bosporus, the channel of water that separates Asia and Europe and into the Black Sea. Tomorrow we will wake up in Bulgaria. The thrill of venturing someplace I’ve never thought of visiting is exciting.
655Jack
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