“At no other time (than autumn) does the earth let itself be inhaled in one smell, the ripe earth; in a smell that is in no way inferior to the smell of the sea, bitter where it borders on taste, and more honeysweet where you feel it touching the first sounds. Containing depth within itself, darkness, something of the grave almost.”
― Rainer Maria Rilke
Istanbul is an intensely beautiful, colourful city where one’s 5 senses are constantly being stimulated – and often assaulted. Random loud noises, crowded buses, a bright kaleidoscopic maelstrom of people, cats, minarets, çay and boats, all whirling for attention. In this 5-part series I will explore each sense, and some of the defining examples of Istanbul’s unique ‘sensitivity’, beginning with smell.
Smell is thought to be one of the most powerful of the senses, though often the most overlooked. Our olfactory perception always plays into our experience of memory and nostalgia – one whiff of CK ‘One’ perfume and I am instantly a teenager lazing on her bean bag chair, doing her Algebra homework (read: chatting on the landline phone), for example. I don’t think I am alone in this. Also, as any allergy sufferer with a chronic stuffy nose will tell you, without smell there is no taste. What then might be considered the defining smells of Istanbul?
Turks love their perfumes and spray deodorants. Anyone who has worked in an office of any kind here will undoubtedly be familiar with their co-workers’ constant barrage of perfumes and sprays clouding up the place. Migraine sufferers, you have my deepest condolences, especially when the weather gets cloudy and to open a window will create a collective gasp of horror. Despite my obvious dislike of many of the aerosol perfumes and flowery headache-inducing scents, there is one such smell that I have a nostalgic affection for if only because it reminds me of my very first trip to Turkey: the quintessential lemon cologne.
On a bus to Cappadocia seven years ago I was awoken at dawn by the bus driver’s assistant, offering a Nescafe and a mysterious splash from a bottle. Not having any idea what this was I took it in my hands and observed everyone else washing themselves up with this lemony scent. Nowadays you will see it in cafes and Çiğ Köfte shops, and of course still being offered on long distance bus rides. Better than hand sanitizer, any day.
Another classic Istanbul smell could be bottled and sold under one name (though I’m not sure who would buy it): ‘Eau d’Eminonu’. The area around the Galata bridge has a unique pungent smell of fish sandwiches, boat smoke fumes, car exhaust and burning corn on the cob. If chaos had a defining odour, this would be it.
While it is by no means Istanbul specific, I feel the scent of Apple sheesha or Nargileh as it is known in the Arab world, must be mentioned in any discussion of the cities smells. The narrow alleys off Istiklal towards Cihangir, and the backstreets of touristic Sultanahmet wouldn’t be the same without the sweet perfume of flavoured tobacco burning in the hubble-bubble waterpipes.
Now, if we are talking about sheesha we also cant forget the smell of Turkish coffee. The most famous place to buy fresh ground beans is the Mehmet Efendi shop behind the spice bazaar, where people line up to buy the most fantastic Türk kahvesi, but throughout the city the scent of coffee brewing in cevzes is an obvious, unforgettable Istanbul smell.
Last but not least (though it is certainly the least glamourous), is the wintertime smell of burning wood and coal. Those living in more posh areas might not be as familiar with the unique, asthma attack-inducing scent, but take a winter walk through Balat, Vefa, or even the old streets of Ortakoy and you will most certainly see clouds of black smoke puffing out of long metal exhaust pipes, clinging precariously to lopsided and dilapidated (yet still oddly gorgeous) wooden Ottoman houses. If it didn’t have me reaching for my inhaler, this old fashioned method of home heating would be almost picturesque.
What are your favourite/least favourite Istanbul smells? Let us know in the comments!
Next week: The defining sounds of this symphonic city.
