Cafe Grand Boulevard: Istiklal Street Hate (and Love)

I don’t like Istiklal Street. Never did. To me it is the new Sultanahmet. With Koska and Saray Muhallebicisi - which used to be dignified matrons and in time degraded in the one night wives of the Turkish sweets making. With shops selling fake pashminas to please the tourists looking for a no-brainer gift. With wanna-be Istanbulites coming from the far off Turkish villages and troubling you anytime you decide to wear a summer dress.

Being such snob I have chosen to live in Moda, a respectable neighborhood of Kadıköy on the Asian side of Istanbul. No new rich, no villagers. Always immaculately dressed elderly people and their younger children with education and manners. “Anything else, madam?” - asks a salesperson at a popular delicacy shop at the Kadıköy market, “No, thank you madam“, - replies her dignified customer.

“It’s not really Istanbul“, say locals when I mention I live in Moda. For some it is another place - such as laid back Izmir located right on the sea-side. For some it’s another epoch - old Istanbul of early 1900-s when the city was compact and people were fewer.

My mother-in-law says she hates Istanbul: she spent here decades and now only comes to for short trips from our farmhouse. “It is crowded and tiring,” she complains. Big cities can be very intimidating indeed. But they also give you chance to craft your habitat to your liking. By living, working and socializing at certain neighborhoods you can create your version of that big city. And this is particularly true for Istanbul where one neighborhood is full of apartment blocks and women in burkas and the other one is home to luxurious villas and night clubs.

On one of my trips to Istanbul before I moved here I rented a flat just off Istiklal Street for a week to test drive the idea of living on the European side of Istanbul. The agency I found, just like many alike, bought up a few apartment blocks and rationed each into small apartments to rent for travelers looking to add local flavor to their stay in Istanbul.

Furnished with ambition my tiny flat was dark and noisy: from the window facing the yard of the compound came little light but many smells and sounds. It was fun to walk to buy bread in the morning through a bustling side street, be surrounded by so many males - policemen at the police office next door and shopkeepers on out street, and find the Istiklal Street as lively at 5 am as it is at 3 pm on any given day. But it was so overwhelming, loud and so lonely that I could not see myself living in this area long-term.

Özgür, on the other hand, is a European side adept and fan. His boarding school, prestigious Lycée de Galatasaray, is located right in the middle of the long boulevard and he has definitely got many memories and affection about the area I find too hard to share. Sometimes out of nostalgia he takes me for a crawl around the bars and clubs in the area, many run by his friends.

Now and then he tells me I should develop a food walk around Istiklal Street too and I can see his passion for the area when he outlines a possible program. Historical hotels, markets and restaurants, swiping views, legendary tastes, modern twists - Istiklal Street has it all. But I just feel so intimidated by its chaos and foreignness. It is not Istanbul how I know and love it so I would not able to share any passion with my clients.

Yet just after the recent chat with Özgür about the Istiklal Street food walk I happened to pass through the street the next day. I took side lanes. The side streets of Istiklal is another world. Many of those worlds. As you head out from the Taksim square you can turn left down the hill to discover bohemian appeal of Cihangir and Çukurcuma. If you rather turn right you will find gipsy spirit and inhabitants of Tarlabaşi and its surroundings.

I turned right after the Çiçek Pasajı to the fish market and then left along the Meşrutiet Caddesi and just before Istanbul Culinary Institute turned left into a large yard. I was astound by its size and ambiance.

I pulled a short-leg chair, asked for sage tea and looked around. The whole essence of Istanbul could fit into this tea court. Hat shop featuring the late 19 century fashion next to a lingerie shop with a mannequin dressed in the a sensual radical lilac underwear. Old books stall chosen by the neighborhood cat as her sun bed. Shop selling eastpacks next to the no-brand bags. Sound of backgammon at the background. People passing for business and shopping. Tourists stopping all of a sudden and looking up the building facade. Students drinking tea, group of girls in blue stockings and red skirts, lady who seats next to me and lights a cigarette without much ceremony.

All that nestled amidst the walls of the building of indefinite age. And the name - Cafe Grand Boulevard - which reminded me of those the multiple Casablanca establishments with huge salons and terraces in the passages open to the road where the people would pass time, chat and watch others.

All of a sudden the complexity and chaos of Istiklal Street made sense just as Istanbul does. I was sipping my tea and thinking that after all maybe there is a way to love Istiklal.

Useful address: Cafe Grand Boulevard, Istiklal Street, Hangeçidi Sok. No. 116/ 3A. Hazzo Pulo Pasajı. Perfect pit stop when touring Istiklal. I can highly recommend their natural herbal teas - sage, linden, rose-hip, fennel and more pop - apple, green, flower mix that goes as love tea, the term coined by the sellers of the Istanbul Spice Market.