Thursday 8th July

 

Day 5

08/07/04 - The palava with paying for the youth hostel meant I had to trek around Sultanahmet Fez looking for a cash machine, which I failed to find. So we paid in Euros, cost got the change in Lira, and left a bit confused.

And here started stress number one: The taxi ride. Stressful for two reasons - a) I have never witnessed driving like that - ever. and b) it cost a small fortune. This was made considerably worse when we did the same journey for just one sixteenth of the price, 12 hours later.

But we got to Jonathan's before he had to dash off to work and gathered our thoughts before hitting the big city; our first "city". (Cheaper is your phrase -!)

I had a scare-type thing on the way to (he turned out my Turkish "thank you" on the guy in the bakery - I think he liked it. They have a crazy bus system here - everyone piles on and gives money to the driver... whilst he's driving... so he's not really looking at the road at all. The metro was cozy, after we gotover the initial problem of working out how to buy a ticket (thankfully we were saved by what we presumed was an English-speaking Turkish student). We could only compare it to the London underground which we decided is smaller, more crowded and hotter and more expensive. So we were impressed but it could have done with covering more of the city. From there we took an "alternative route" through the back-streets to the bridge, enroute there were plush parks and horrible bits. Shoe-polishing men lined the streets whilst people sat drinking the small glasses of tea and having fun with bongo. We hit the small traditional shopping area which was crowded and offered turkish materials and leather goods. You could tell this was where the locals went for their big shopping trip. We headed to the recommended Grand Bazaar, but found it a bit too organized and like a shopping mall. And it was full of tourists which kind of let the atmosphere down a little. Still, after chatting up a guy there he told me a very nice bracelet for under a pound. (And he came on to her too!). We tried to find a "döner" for lunch but got distracted by a guy (who initially thought we were German!) who seemed to want to chat to us. He made a very convincing effort to persuade us he had spent about 75% of his life in England, & and when he mentioned Hampshire I naturally asked if he'd been to Winchester. His response was: "oh, places like that". This was when we realized he was name-dropping English counties. We finally may managed to shake him off and spent an annoying amount of time searching for a kebab place, which we had been dodging in and out of only 15 minutes earlier. To cut a long story short(er), there we eventually found some very pretty clips and had a traditional Turkish kebabwhich Heather dragged about half of down her top. It was, about this juncture, when chatty tout reappeared and proceeded to pull English addresses scribbled on scrap paper out of his pocket, to prove just how much previous gullible tourists had liked him. When he gave us 2 options: come to my cafe with me or I will show you around the mosque (!!) we opted for the firm "get lost" approach.

The Blue Mosque - Heather's first mosque. I didn't realize that mosques had carpets (ie prayer mats/rugs). Some people were praying but we were allowed to wander around and look at the blue stone, in the walls and the lots of candles.

The mosque was a bit "wow-factor" on 9th only but after a failed attempt to recall my Gist Islamic Studies essay, the attraction soon wore off. We tried to get into Aya Sofya but they were charging, at which point the whole place turned into a theme park for tourists and we went in search of ice cream and a shady spot.

Ah yes - the Ice cream incident. Heather, in all her wisdom, decided we would have Turkish ice Cream, even if it did mean we had to put up with some immature idiot playing around with the cones while (apparently) serving us.

Heather (and this only served to keep heighten our feelings of hatred towards him) proceeded to charge us a full 4 million EACH, for what turned out to be a most-disgusting mix of frozen marshmallow and sand colouring. If our rage had been but slightly less, we would have told that man just what we thought of him. Fortunately for all parties, though, (as we found out later from Jonathan), Turkish ice cream is very expensive, and is also designed for hot climates - therefore having a different consistency to actual Ice cream. It also turns out that there has been a recent drive by the Turkish government to employ mentally retarded louts in the sale of this fine culinary delight.

To prevent Brian's rage from taking over we strolled to another mosque which had turned into a building-site, and so onto another, where 4 pieces of the black stone from the...

(Slight interruption as we heard the call to prayer and ran onto the balcony to see the minaret below us light up blue and we could hear another call in the distance. From another mosque. We could see people running to take off their shoes and step inside).

...where was I?

...Kabala in Mecca. We made a walk of silence back to the metro and then the bus, where I managed to pick the spot where everyone handed me money and shouted foreign names at me. A very frightening time.

Dinner was good.

Hmmm, I think, from the accusing look on Heather's face, I must comment slightly more thoroughly than that.

Dinner was very good.

kebabs basically. And Turkish beer. I finally achieved the eyebrows-thing, whereas Brian still looks like he's fitting. The advantages of having a 'local' became very apparent as we were ushered to our seats and pampered like by eager, friendly staff. So, a choice of 8 starters (of which we had 3 - giving Heather the chance to take Turkish and Greek cheese in her quest for the greatest European cheese), a traditionally cooked main course, 2 beers (the second one only because my "no" turned into a serious fit and minor outburst) and about 72 bottles of water (the damn hairy waiter would not stop refilling that glass!) we left. Full stop. The day was rounded off very well with a traditional Turkish coffee, which I had without sugar and fully enjoyed - what is known as "hardcore" in the Turkish coffee world.