Eski Kandil

After shopping for gifts today in Ulus, I stopped for lunch in an “antik ve café” shop: Eski Kandil. Just around the corner from a crossroads filled with baskets, hookahs, evil eyes, kilims and more, I went up the steep wooden steps, passing lovely prints for sale, and stumbled into a tiny room with four (maybe five) tables each covered with different table cloths and a tiny veranda outside with one table and room for six people.






It was lovely. Being the only one there, I had my pick of tables – I chose the table outside.




I ate an Ayvalik tostu made of salami, cheese, pickle, tomato and mayo. I would call it Turkish grilled-cheese. That was washed down with a cup of tea for only 4YTL. Perfection.





A man sat on a stool across the street sewing something made from gray material and three men enjoyed the view from a roof. The call to prayer broadcast from a loud speaker sounded garbled and to me, grating and fascinating all at once. I wouldn’t want to hear it everyday because it reminded me of the drive-through speaker at Wendy’s, but given that it was sung, it sounded beautiful all the same. And how could I not be fascinated, when feeling slightly scared, but mostly at peace listening to a strange language sung over loud speakers in the part of a capital city that rambles with ruins, relics and religion?