ISTANBUL,
Turkey -- No matter what kind of storms shake this ancient
city, within the smoky and fragrant confines of the Erzurum
Nargile Salon all is right with the world. The nargile,
or Turkish water pipe, is no longer at the center of Istanbul's
social and political life, but the men who gather here each
day -- and the scattering of women who join them -- still
consider it one of life's great pleasures. They are heirs
to a centuries-old culture, and their worlds revolve around
the soft sound of bubbling water, the sensation of drawing
filtered tobacco smoke through long curled tubes, and an
atmosphere of quiet camaraderie.
"Smoking
a nargile is nothing like smoking a cigarette," a 71-year-old
pensioner named Ismet Ertep said as he looked up from his
pipe."Cigarettes are for nervous people, competitive
people, people on the run," he said. "When you
smoke a nargile, you have time to think. It teaches you
patience and tolerance, and gives you an appreciation of
good company. Nargile smokers have a much more balanced
approach to life than cigarette smokers."
Although
many of the patrons at the Erzurum Nargile Salon are of
a certain age, and although no one expects the stately nargile
(pronounced NARG-EE-LEH) ever to regain its supremancy in
the tobacco world, the water pipe culture here is in no
danger of dying. Every year brings a new crop of retirees,
who have the time and often the desire to spend hours in
reflection. And on many evenings, students and other young
people join the older clientele.
There
are said to be fewer than a dozen nargile salons left in
Istanbul, and a few in nearly every other Turkish city.
They are the remains of thousands that sprouted here after
the first tobacco leaves arrived from America in 1601. In
the early part of the 17th century, Turks took to smoking
with a passion. In 1633, outraged at the rapid spread of
this new vice, Sultan Murad IV banned smoking on pain of
death. But this prohibition merely drove smokers underground,
and , 14 years later, officials conceded defeat and lifted
it.
Nargiles
soon became important status symbols. Offering one to a
guest became an important sign of trust, and withholding
it could be taken as a serious insult. In 1841, a diplomatic
crisis broke out between France and the Ottoman Empire after
the sultan declined to offer the French ambassador a chance
to smoke with him.
The
advent of the cigarette, a development that many nargile
smokers consider one of the most deplorable in human history,
forever changed the way Turks use tobacco. But at places
like the Erzurum Salon, named after a town in Anatolia,
old ways are still respected and old preasures still enjoyed.
There is not much noise inside. Conversation is only occasional,
and always soft. The sound of dominoes being played or backgammon
tokens being moved is often all that competes with the soft
gurgle of bubbling water. Some patrons work absently on
crossword puzzles and others seem lost in contemplation.
No
alcohol is served, as is traditional in nargile cafes, and
smokers usually sip coffee or tea as they puff. Every few
hours, the Muslim call to prayer issues from the Molla Celebi
Mosque nearby, and about half the patrons leave, returning
after their devotions. The Erzurum salon was opened more
than half a century ago by an Armenian immigrant whose son,
Recep Hacioglu, is the present owner and whose grandson,
Yilmaz Hacioglu, 36, expects to follow in the family tradition.
When urban renewal forced it to move to its present location
near the Bosphorus in 1991, its clientele faithfully followed.
Behind
the counter are nearly 60 nargiles, most available to all,
but some belonging to customers for whose exclusive use
they are reserved. When a patron arrives, the manager, Yasar
Guler, selects a nargile, cleans it, and wraps a handful
of damp tobacco around the stone bowl. Older patrons, he
says usually prefer strong Turkish tobacco grown on plantations
near the Syrian border, while many younger ones ask for
aromatic apple or cherry blends imported from Egypt and
Bahrain.
After
Guler has filled the bottom of the pipe with water and attached
the brass neck, the bowl and the smoking tube, he delivers
it to the patron. A waiter who carries a pot of glowing
coals carefully picks up a couple with metal pincers and
places them atop the tobacco plug. With a few puffs, the
smoker is under way. It takes about an hour to smoke a pipeful
of fruit tobacco, two hours for the stronger stuff. The
smoke is noticeably cooler than cigarette smoke, and lightly
intoxicating. Before long, the water begins to turn brown;
smokers say it is filtering out many of the harmful substances
that they would otherwise be inhaling.
In
days gone by, some smokers used to fill their nargiles with
illicit drugs. Sultans used to smoke a special mixture of
opium, perfume and crushed pearls.
"The important thing is not what you put in the pipe,
but who is with you while you're smoking," said Ahmed
Metin, a 48-year-old Turkish sailor who makes the Erzurum
Salon his base when he is in Istanbul."It's a complete
experience," he continued. "In a cafe like this
one, you find the good people, the old people, the interesting
people. As long as there is a need for company and friendship,
as long as people want to stop and think, there will be
nargile cafes."
›Puffin
at the old hubble-bubble
›Nargile:
A Puff on History
›Massell
(Molasses)
›Hookahs
in Western Painting
