According to Turkish Daily News, the top 10 countries in the UNDP development ranking the previous year included Canada, Norway, US, Australia, Iceland, Sweden, Belgium, Netherlands, Japan and Great Britain. Turkey was in 85th place, in the company of countries such as Brazil, Tunisia and Belize. As usual, development was uneven. In the cities you could obtain services to rival those in developed countries, but in the country it was a different story. Perhaps the greatest challenges to Turkey were to improve their human rights, to look outwards, and to care for the environment. They got a head start on other Middle Eastern countries thanks to the reforms of the Turkish Republic but they could still get left behind in a fast-changing world.
I woke at 0500 and went up to the roof to watch the sunrise, and the still lit Aya Sofya and Blue Mosque against the daybreak. Then I went back to stretch the time until breakfast by reading the paper and doing my packing.
Each room in the hotel had a poem. Mine was Listening to Istanbul by Orhan Veli Kanik. It was a fitting paean to Istanbul at the tail end of my holiday. It is a special place blessed by geography and climate. I had barely scratched its many layers of history. I would like to revisit it some day.
The hotel had a friendly kitten that I positioned on my luggage for pictures, that's why its poses look awkward. It was probably thinking: Am I doing this right? Will I get stroked after doing what this strange human wants of me?
My flight wasn't until early afternoon so there was no hurry. I sauntered over to the Orient Hostel and joined a shuttle. There were a couple of USAns and 4 Belgians or Dutch students in the van. The students had heavy duffel bags or backpacks. I'll never understand people who don't pack light.
At the airport I was so early that they hadn't even assigned a gate to my flight yet. I saw the destination Vnukovo on the board. Where the hell was that? I later discovered that it is the oldest of Moscow's three operating airports.
I had retained a 1 million TL note as a keepsake so I had just enough money left to buy a sundae. And that was my last purchase before we flew off into the sunset.
I woke around 0500, partly due to the mosque. Some late-night revelers had come in during the wee hours. I stayed in bed until 0700, washed and walked around Sultanahmet. I considered a buffet breakfast at the Acropol, but it was out of my class. So I settled for yet another Turkish breakfast at The Pudding Shop. Sigh, never mind, only one more day.
Then I moved into the Hotel Poem. The friendly staff were solicitous about my eyelid injury. Ah, my own room and bath, what luxury. I had a view overlooking the Sea of Marmara. There the noise was from the traffic on Kennedy Caddesi, which runs along the shore, and ship horns.
I caught the metro, to experience the ride, to Aksaray, then a dolmuş across the Atatürk Bridge spanning the Golden Horn. I had a look at the facade of the historic Pera Palas (where passengers from the Orient Express stayed), and finally ended up on Istiklal Caddesi, the famous shopping and entertainment pedestrian street in the Beyoğlu district. I hopped off the dolmuş near the British Council and found a place serving a tasty prix fixe lunch of Kadinbudu Köfte (Lady's Thighs Köfte), garnish and rice. A little later, still feeling peckish, I had a stick of fried mussels from a vendor. I posted off all the remaining postcards, and bought some apricots and cherries.
I returned to Sultanahmet via the Tünel, a short underground railway line, which took me downhill to Karakoy, within striking distance of Eminönü via the Galata bridge. The day had started off overcast but now it was sunny and steamy.
In the evening I returned to the Karadeniz, where the old waiter welcomed me. I accepted his suggestion of a Beyti kebap. I wasn't sure what it was but I was sure that it would be good, and it indeed was. I felt that I knew every corner of Sultanahmet now. I was not sorry to be leaving, but I just wanted to be sure that I had not missed some experience, as it might be a long time before I visit again, if at all. Who knows what Turkey will be like by then, perhaps it might even be in the EU.
I took my cherries to the sound and light show. It was a bit disappointing because of the poor sound, but I received a printed copy of the script. I had a nightcap of a glass of wine opposite the 4 Seasons Hotel. I noted that the area was starting to get lousy with tourists, especially USAns. Time to get out.
After the Grand Bazaar it was time to buy presents for home. I saw jam in a shop on Divan Yolu. (This avenue whose name means Road to the Imperial Council, i.e. Topkapı, starting from the Sultanahmet district and running past the Grand Bazaar, was the first part of a road to Rome, some 1600 km away.) However I wanted to see if the prices were any better at Mısır Çarşisi (Spice Bazaar) first. They weren't but I got dainty lokum (Turkish Delight) in that district, Eminönü, from one of many specialty stores. Then I went back to Divan Yolu for a couple of jars of jam. While there I took a peek at the hamam (Turkish bath) that I would visit that evening.
I took my loot back to the hostel and grabbed a bottom bunk that was available. There were a couple of new arrivals, a young Brit couple.
This is one of the more modern Istanbul street cars. They were quite advanced; residents can pay their fare with a contactless stored value token system.
After an afternoon siesta I went for a Turkish bath. I was assigned a small changing room where I could store my belongings and put on a towel. I first worked up a sweat in the warm room, then progressed to the hot room. After a splash with cold water, a masseur approached me. We haggled a bit and agreed on the price of a rub down, which was not included in the admission but paid directly to the masseur later, somewhat surreptitiously, a bakşiş. It was a somewhat passive experience for me, I just laid back on the stone and got pounded and scrubbed. I didn't believe it possible that a rub down could scrape off so much dead skin. I felt like a new man, recently moulted, upon emerging. The photo is of the "foyer" of the hamam.
After that I went for a walk in the district of Kumkapı. This traditionally housed a large number of Armenians. These days it has many good fish restaurants.
But they were obviously out of my price range. I was invisible to the spruikers and waiters; I didn't appear to be someone who would eat there.
Never mind, there were lots of good places on Divan Yolu for a late meal. A charming old waiter at the Karadeniz enticed me into trying their doner meal. It was quite good, although the baklava at the end of the meal was a bit too sweet for my taste.
When I got back to the dorm, the Brits were discreetly making out like rabbits in their corner.
In the morning, the drawbacks of hostel accommodation were apparent: the sink was blocked, and there was no toilet paper. At least there had been no snorers in the dorm. I decided that I would reserve a nice room at the Hotel Poem for my last night to leave in style.
I couldn't face another Turkish breakfast so I had french toast instead.
Here are some more market pictures. Lots of those tasty eggplants and peppers.
The prices are probably in thousands of TL so of the order of one to a few dollars per kilo.
I went to the Grand Bazaar also known as the Covered Bazaar as most of it is indoors. This is the Beyazit Gate. There were lots of tourists there, especially French, even that early in the morning.
Metalwork and utensils.
Beautiful porcelain.
One of the wider and less crowded passages.
There were lots of jewelry and clothing, and of course souvenirs, but nothing of interest to me.
Sahaflar Çarşısı (Old Book Bazaar) which was nearby, was of more interest to me. I wasn't looking for antiquarian books but for Nasreddīn Hodja stories translated into English. Nasreddin is a well-known character not just in Middle Eastern and Central Asian folk humour but far beyond. He is witty but sometimes also the butt of a joke. Here's a short one: One morning, his neighbour asked Hodja, "Last night we heard noises coming from your house. It sounded like something falling down the stairs. What happened?" Hodja replied: "My wife threw my robe down the stairs." "Come on, Hodja! A robe doesn't make that much noise." "But I was wearing it," Hodja said.
I'll continue the rest of the day in the next post to spread out the pictures.
It really wasn't my first day in Istanbul, just the first of my last 3 days. I had allocated 6 days total to Istanbul, half at each end.
I had started getting up early again to accustom myself to the impending timezone jump. That morning I managed 0500. It was noisy outside when I opened the balcony door, mostly sea birds crying. There was even one that sounded like a dog waffing. The sun was out though there were clouds. I went to the hotel terrace and sat for a half hour watching the jetty. I saw lone commuters hurrying to catch the 0600 ferry, and saw one ferry leave for Heybeliada, the second largest island of the group. Then I went for breakfast.
This clock tower is just outside the hotel and one of the first points of reference after disembarking from the ferry.
I left my bag with reception and walked to the monastery of Ayios Nikolaos. It's a reminder that more Greeks lived here in the past. It showed no sign of current use. There were flies everywhere due to the horse shit. They even followed me down the hill.
Büyükada has many stately mansions due to rich people setting up holiday homes here.
I had a walk through the island's markets. Many shops had advertisements in Hebrew, perhaps due to Israeli visitors, and perhaps history as Jews have been in Turkey for centuries. There is even a synagogue on the island.
This is the island's central "taxi" rank.
The trip back to Sirkeci was breezy. Istanbul was crowded and noisy as always. I checked in at the youth hostel, then went for a walk in the markets. I like looking at the colour of produce.
A stall selling flours and pulses. A tourist like me taking pictures always got curious looks from the subjects, especially as my eyelid was still swollen.
This is the Orient Hostel, another hostel in the same neighbourhood of Sultanahmet, where I had decided I would catch a shuttle to the airport on departure day.
In the evening after dinner, I caught a ferry to Üsküdar, on the Asian shore. It was a cool place, in both senses. The lights of the European shore were magical to watch. On regaining the European shore, I found a cafe serving Turkish coffee but it was disappointing. If you like it, then you like coffee with the flavour boiled out of it and sludge at the bottom of the cup.
You're probably thinking this entry will start off the usual way, with me writing about how I enjoyed my sleep, or not, and what breakfast was like. When I got onto the train I thought, in 11 years time, after blogs are invented, I will just write about a normal night train journey. Just kidding. But it was not to be. As I was returning to my compartment from checking out the buffet car for a nightcap, a piece of aluminium trim above the door detached itself and hit me above my left eyelid. Fortunately my eyesight was not affected but my eyelid swelled up, looking like I had got a black eye in a fight. The conductor was solicitous, but really there was nothing to be done but to give time for the swelling to recede. I stuck a bandaid over it, not because it helped any, but because it made the injury look plausible to onlookers. Oh, and there was nothing that I liked in the buffet car and it was full of smokers so I bought nothing.
In the morning, the train skirted the Asian coast of the Sea of Marmara for a long time. There were ugly high rises visible from the line. Our progress was slowed by the suburban trains of Istanbul, but it was all taken into account in the schedule. Here we have arrived at Haydarpaşa.
The architecture of this station bears witness to a more elegant age. This is the first station in Asia coming from Europe. There was no restaurant serving food as the guide claimed; it only served drinks. So after taking photos I hopped onto the ferry crossing the Bosphorus for Karakoy. There was no feasible breakfast place there either so I walked across the Galata Bridge to Sirkeci. The next ferry to Büyükada was at 1015, so I had breakfast at a restaurant on a back street, my injury attracting curious glances from the clientele. What I need, I thought, is a cheap pair of large sunglasses. But I didn't find any for sale.
The crossing took about 90 minutes. It was an overcast day with cool breezes. I stayed outside because of the ubiquitous smokers. I hated them with a passion. At Büyükada, which means nothing more exotic than Big Island, as it's the largest of the Princes Islands, I checked into the Princess Hotel (what else?) slept until 1330, then went out for lunch. I was set upon by hordes of restaurant owners so business must have been slow. Nobody seemed to have enough small change. A had told me that the government was trying to control inflation by restricting the supply of money!
I took a walk along the promenade, passing the historical but slightly dilapidated Hotel Splendid. Büyükada is a resort island, a handy getaway destination for Istanbul residents. Motorised vehicles, except for service vehicles, are prohibited, so life moves at a slower pace. To get around you walk, ride a bike or take a horse-drawn buggy. Here you don't have to watch out for homicidal cars; you can hear the buggies coming in good time. Alas, the smell of car exhaust fumes has been replaced by the stench of horse shit. Progress is seldom unalloyed.
The best views were unfortunately from private houses along the shore. You can only partly see this swimming pool belonging to one of the hotels. At the end of my walk was a campground which required an entrance fee, so I turned back.
For dinner I had an excellent meal of Inegöl köfte which was more expensive than on the mainland. Then I savoured the cool evening until bedtime.
Incidentally if you are wondering Ankara is pronounced with the stress on the first syllable. There are no photos for today so I'll make this short.
I had all day to spend before the night train. A had to work, so I took myself to sightsee Ankara. I tried to find the THY (Turkish Airlines) office to reconfirm my return flight as they were handling agents for MH, but got redirected to the next suburb, so decided not to bother. I went to the Museum of Anatolian Civilizations. Turkey, or Asia Minor in the past, is a very ancient land. Artifacts from the beginning of recorded history have been found. The Turkish language comes from Central Asia so multiple civilisations have overlaid this part of the world. You might remember that the Old Testament mentions Hittites. Well, they lived in Anatolia. Archaeology and history aren't my favourite subjects, but I was impressed by the wealth of artifacts displayed. I think photography was not permitted in the museum otherwise I would have a souvenir of this visit.
After walking around the market area of Ankara, for lunch I found a sitdown kebab place near A's workplace and had one of the specialties: Gaziantep Kebap. It was delicious, filling and cheap; came up to about $3 converted. I looked for the two recommended bookstores. One was moribund, the other was nowhere to be found. Victims of the economic downturn? I bought some cherries for my hosts and made my way back to A's office. Watched them work for a while. It reminded me of my workdays back home. When a terminal became free, A let me check my email, but there was nothing urgent.
After dinner they drove me to the train station and we said our goodbyes. A said he might visit me later in the year to check out the employment situation in Australia, and perhaps do some diving, his passion. And then I was headed westwards into the night.
Each room in the hotel had a poem. Mine was Listening to Istanbul by Orhan Veli Kanik. It was a fitting paean to Istanbul at the tail end of my holiday. It is a special place blessed by geography and climate. I had barely scratched its many layers of history. I would like to revisit it some day.
My flight wasn't until early afternoon so there was no hurry. I sauntered over to the Orient Hostel and joined a shuttle. There were a couple of USAns and 4 Belgians or Dutch students in the van. The students had heavy duffel bags or backpacks. I'll never understand people who don't pack light.
