According to legend, it was here in old Constantinople that the selfsame Roman Emperor made the first (failed) attempt by a Christian ruler to regulate prostitution, sanctioning one brothel for the entire city.
Modern Turkish genelevs—literally, 'general' or 'public houses'—are the successors to that institution, quarantined into dead-end zones that are more like prostitute ghettos than red-light districts.
The genelevs are also strictly off-limits to foreigners.
'They think that Western men could have AIDS and sexual diseases,' says my guide, a man I'll call Mehmet—a Turkish form of 'Mohammed' and an homage to the sultan who conquered Constantinople.
'Mehmet' normally runs secretive gay sex tours, but he's agreed to modify his usual itinerary to show me the 'straight' side of Istanbul.
I can tell he's not really looking forward to it, though.
As we set off from Taksim Square in the heart of the city, he mentions that the statue of Atatürk is a popular cruising spot—an irony that will become apparent later.
Strolling down the broad thoroughfare of Independence Avenue, far from the carpet shops and landmarks of the Old Town, the terrace cafes are as cosmopolitan as anything in Paris, serving far more sophisticated coffees than those at Starbucks—though there's room for one of those too on 'Liberty Way.'
The boulevard's mosques blare calls to prayer, undercut by street vendors' calls to purchase, while the Catholic church down the way keeps its doors open in tactful silence. A man in a fez is twirling unmeltable marash ice cream in the air as his compatriots queue for soft-serve at McDonald's—both doing good business—and women in headscarves lumber past teens flaunting naked midriffs.
Men leer at the ladies while walking arm in arm—'That's very common here, even in my village,' Mehmet says—and there's even a couple of drag queens sashaying down the main drag in the sunshine. Which is not common where Mehmet comes from.
Passing the Dutch and Swedish consulates, we take a left into the 'hood of the Galatasaray football club, descending past music shops and the home of the Mehlevi Dervishes (whose founder was certainly no prude) into what was historically the foreign part of town.
Genelevs are not meant to be seen or heard from the outside, and the only vague indicator that you're near Turkey's largest sex ghetto is a hamam on the corner.
'Muslims believe that you have to take a bath after sex,' Mehmet explains.
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