"No man"

“Ever been to a Turkish bath Joey?” isn’t a line from the comedy classic “Airplane”, but for years I thought it was. The pilot actually asks the young boy visiting the cockpit if he’s ever been to a Turkish prison. Interestingly though you can switch bath for prison without the meaning being lost. It was with no little trepidation then that I entered the 18th century vaulted chamber of the Hamami bathhouse in the Sultanahmet district of Istanbul. The room was dominated by a vast slab of marble in the centre and seemed to be empty, until I noticed a great sweaty man lurching out of an adjacent archway towards me…

The word for no in Turkish is "hayir" and it is an extremely important one should the unsuspecting bather find himself being yanked around a marble table by the ankles in a bath house. It is equally important to the unwary tourist who beats the cobbled streets of the Sultanahmet district. In this historic part of Istanbul you will be accosted by a multitude of charming traders, one will introduce himself as George Clooney, another will show you a photo of Prince Charles and Camilla shopping at his stall, and everywhere there will be offers of apple tea and a rooftop view of the Golden Horn. I struggle with “nos” and on my first day in Sultanahmet I could hardly have fared worse if I’d been walking around with a flashing neon sign saying, “Gullible’s travels”. I’d been gone less than an hour from my hotel, and had already been enticed into two carpet shops and talked into changing all my dollars in a tapas bar, when I ran into Nazyah. I was ready for him when he called, “yes friend where are you from?” I had my “hayirs” prepared and met him with a polite but firm, “I’m not buying anything today”.

Ten minutes later I found myself leaving his store with a Kurdish carpet tucked under my arm. As I was being ushered towards the door, I glanced up at a photo of the actor Colin Farell, he had also been sold a carpet and his eyes wore the same, slightly glazed expression that I now had in mine.

Another great test of the tourist’s resolve in the old quarter is the Grand Bazaar. First built in the 15th century, it is still one of the largest covered markets in the world. The bazaar is a cavernous catacomb of narrow streets and avenues that become more interesting the further away you get from the main thoroughfare. You fight the urge to resort to clichés about an Aladdin’s cave as you are confronted with bric-a-brac stores selling everything that can be sold: ancient guns, mouldy doll’s heads, rusty nautical devices, bunches of keys, decaying books, magnifying glasses, trumpets, scales, statues, caps, irons, bottles, I could go on. “Genuine fake rolex”, a shopkeeper’s voice calls behind you.

Be careful here wide-eyed tourist, few destinations in the world are as intoxicating as Istanbul, so have your “hayirs” ready.