LT
16 June, 10pm Istanbul
Our last day in London (Thursday) was fairly quiet. After
packing our things and arranging a late checkout so that we weren’t stranded
with luggage all day, we headed “downtown” into Teddington to look at the
shops. Katriel had in mind to buy some kind of Paddington toy, but the retail
choices in Teddington were a bit limited, and we all came away with very little
purchased and most of our savings intact – a success you might say! With time on our hands we visited the Teddington
Library and read (or snoozed) quietly for half an hour before heading back to
the hotel to collect luggage.
We managed the bus trip to the airport ok – a very cheap
option as all the children were free – and it was only crowded in short
bursts. Heathrow Airport is enormous,
and on arrival at the main Heathrow bus terminal we then had to get on a train
to transfer to Terminal 5. Terminal 5 must be the main terminal as it was much
larger and had all kinds of retail and duty free, which we hadn’t seen when we
had arrived a few days earlier into Terminal 3.
Security was really strict there, necessitating the removal of shoes and
belts, and lots and lots of passengers were getting fairly thorough pat-down
searches, which made the whole process quite slow. We all passed through
successfully though and in the end had to make a dash to the departure gate to
get there before it closed.
The British Airways flight to Istanbul was quite nice
actually – no pillows or blankets in coach (though the front half of the plane,
obviously higher class than us, had them) – but it was pleasant enough, with
nice staff and a yummy dinner. All the children
slept some of the way, possibly still catching up on time differences etc. We
arrived into Istanbul about midnight local time, a bus met us at the bottom of the
aircraft steps to take us to the terminal.
Carrying a sleeping Katriel through customs got us invited into the
short queue, but the advantage was lost after we claimed our bags and found the
luggage trolleys required a coin (which we did not have) to acquire. So
those of us not sleeping or carrying sleeping children doubled and tripled up
our luggage handling capacity and we struggled our way out into the airport
proper at about 1am. We had booked a
transfer and on second pass through the arrivals pen to look at all the signs
we found Mustafa, who passed us on to a young chap who took us outside to an
old chap who would be our driver. Poor
Katriel by this time was awake again, and exhaustion combined with a lot of
accelerating, braking and tooting (typical Istanbul driving!) had her feeling
so sick she spent the second half of the journey leaning into a plastic bag
(all we could find) in the back of the van.
Our accommodation in Istanbul was booked through airbnb.com,
which is a website where people can list their own home, flat or holiday rental
accommodation anywhere in the world and people like us in little old New
Zealand can book it. We booked a small
flat in Taksim, and it has turned out to be quite perfect for us – centrally
located and easy to get to public transport, lots of dairies and food shops
nearby. Our host has been lovely,
providing internet, a local mobile phone, public transport cards etc as well as
towels and sheets. But it was a bit of
an adventure at the beginning J
This particular part of town is quite hilly, the streets are
incredibly narrow (cars parked down one side, and just enough room for another
car to drive past), the terraced apartment buildings are multi-storyed (5 or 6
levels), and a little old and run-down in appearance. Bars on the lower storeyed windows and random
people walking around at 1.30-odd in the morning didn’t exactly make for a
welcoming first impression but we tried to keep an open mind. So that he would know when we would be
arriving, and he could leave his own home in time to meet us, our host had
suggested that we call his mobile number when leaving the airport. He wouldn’t answer the first call so there
would be no charge, but if we wanted to speak to him we could call back and he
would answer the second time. OK all
good, with a scramble in the taxi to find the phone and get rid of flight mode
etc the first call was duly made and, apart from the wanting to throw up in the
plastic bag problem, we were on our way! He had indicated in his emails that
the address was a little tricky to find, and our driver did stop to ask for
directions, but then he stopped outside a door and announced that this was
it. Of course we had no idea whether it
was or not. We unloaded our bags, and
looked all around but there was no sign of our host – not that guy walking
past, nor the other guy walking by the other way. Not the car coming up behind the taxi and
tooting for the taxi to move. So here we
were sitting outside an apartment in the middle of who-knows-where, at 1.30am, no
sign of our host, and our taxi drives off.
Thankfully he must have seen that we looked a little out of place and he
parked down the road and walked back.
Though his English was limited, we explained to him that we were meant
to be meeting someone here, and all the while Peter was redialling the mobile
number we’d been given, but no answer!
At this moment an upper-storey window across the street opens, and an
old man pokes his head out. A shouted conversation between him and taxi driver
ensues (as it turns out no-one is angry, it just always sounds that way when
Turkish people speak to each other!). He
obviously indicates to the taxi driver to ring the doorbell, which he does,
loudly and repeatedly. We’re a little
less keen, being somewhat concerned that we’re not even in the right street,
let alone at the right house. But ring
ring he does. Eventually a light comes on upstairs and a bleary-eyed, shirtless
man comes down the stairs into the entrance way. The taxi driver and the guy over the road
shout various things to him, we show him the name of our host, and we are
invited into the entrance way. Taxi driver
and neighbour guy head on their way. The
man disappears back upstairs to get a shirt, then reappears again. We are in the right house, and he is the
upstairs neighbour to the flat we are renting (we learn this later, as he
actually doesn’t speak a word of English).
We all try calling our host’s mobile number again – still no reply. Then he notices a pair of shoes next to the
door of the flat. Are these our shoes, he gestures? No they aren’t. He bangs
the door knocker. He goes outside and
bashes on the window. Amusingly (in retrospect), our kind host had come over
earlier in the evening to prepare the flat, and had fallen asleep on the couch.
Eventually the banging and bashing wakes him, and he sleepily and rather
sheepishly opens the door and lets us in.
The neighbour shouts at him for a bit (probably not angry, just how you
communicate around here), then we head in. The flat is great, our host makes a
quick embarrassed exit and we get ready for bed. About 10 minutes later there
is a knock at the door, our upstairs neighbour has prepared a plate of melon
and watermelon pieces for us. He gestures for us to leave the plate on the stairs
when we are finished and he’s off. All in all a very unusual introduction to
Istanbul…. But at least the neighbours are friendly!
It’s noisy here at night.
There is no time when it is too late to play loud music, bang hammers,
toot horns, shout on the street, or whatever you need to be doing. And everyone seems angry – though I don’t
think they necessarily are. People sound
like they’re shouting all the time, cars toot – loud and long and all the
time. Every second person smokes. And there’s not much English here – many of
the shopkeepers don’t speak it, hardly any signs are in English – we’re real
foreigners here!
Friday we slept in, not surprisingly. Peter woke up earlier than the rest, and wandered
down the road to get his bearings and find some food. He found street stalls, bakeries and dairies
all close by, and a supermarket not much further. Following his hunter-gatherer tendencies he
bought a bunch of groceries, including bread, jam, cereal, teabags, and
something that looked a lot like milk that was sold in two litre bottles like
milk but was definitely not milk.
Tasting like sour milk with lots of salt added, it had a thick, almost
creamy texture, it didn’t mix in with a cup of tea (kind of suspended itself in
a ball in the middle), and was not nice to drink or to pour on cereal. We later found it offered as the drink of
choice in meal combos (!??!), but our bottles ended up poured down the sink!
On Friday afternoon we decided to spend some time getting
the lay of the land, and headed into ‘town’ – Old Istanbul – to figure out the
public transport system and see where everything was. We were too late to visit any of the main
attractions but we did poke our noses in to the Grand Bazaar, and also check
out the rules and information board about the Blue Mosque. Made a mental note to wear long skirts/pants
the next day as this is the recommended dress code.
The weather here is quite warm (probably 25-30deg), but not
humid like Cambodia, and the breeze is quite cool so it’s pleasant enough.
Dinner on our way back to our flat was, as Peter put it, a
delicate combination of nasty and expensive.
The menu was entirely in Turkish, and only some of the dishes were
pictured, so we pointed and gestured and ended up with something decidedly
average. But it gave us the energy we needed to get back up the hill to the
flat.
On Saturday we slept in again! We headed down the road to check out the bakery
offerings for breakfast. Using sign
language (again the girl spoke no English) and the special payment technique of
putting all our money on the counter and letting her choose what she wanted, we
bought a bunch of buns and kind of dry-ish biscuits for breakfast. It wasn’t quite as tasty as we thought it
might have been, but it was better than cornies with sour salty milk LOL. Actually
it wasn’t too bad. Then, with the
experience gained the day before, we zoomed through the public transport system
and down towards Aya Sophia, one of Istanbul’s most famous monuments. Completed
in AD537, the building (converted to a mosque in 1453 and then a museum in
1935) is quite breath-taking. The scale of
it, as well the intricate design with domed ceilings and mosaic work is just
amazing. Some of the interior is
decorated with massive marble panels in contrasting designs. There have been
several restorations and additions over the years, including a bronze doorway
dating from 200BC or something that had been brought there.
Fending off offers of water, guides, guidebooks and spinning
tops from the local hawkers, we then headed over to the Basilica Cistern, which
is a massive (80,000 cubic metre) underground water reservoir built in
532AD. An incredible engineering feat,
and all very atmostpheric with the columns individually lit, but still overall
semi-darkness. Impressed again, though
Katriel mentioned a couple of times that she is getting a bit tired of looking
at all the buildings. Unfortunately for
her there are still a couple on my wishlist for tomorrow.
Speaking of water-sellers, Peter and I both noticed that
some of the people selling water had bottles which were all filled to slightly
different levels…. Not a convincing
look. Later in the day we saw a guy rummaging through the rubbish bins and
pulling out empty water bottles… Hmmm, think we’ll go with the plastic-sealed
bottles thanks!
We then headed to the Grand Bazaar with the intention of
spending up a storm, which we didn’t exactly do, but we did come away with a
few bits and pieces. Peter further honed
his bargaining skills, and had a good time doing so. The rest of us just enjoyed spending
money. The Grand Bazaar is massive, like
a city itself, some 4000 odd shops or so.
Not that we went to every single one, but we did our best.
We also tried some of the local food stalls today, corn on
the cob, roasted chestnuts, breads and pastries, watermelon. All not too bad, though nothing we would rave
about.
We headed home again and found a new place to try for dinner
– the menu was (in English this time) a little Western, but very nice food.
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