Istanbul 5th Oct
Brian was about at 9:15am and roaring at Roger, I can't think why. I eventually had to get up half an hour later to have some breakfast. Bread (and toast of a sort) and jam and tea. I went for my morning wash and was told that Mr Lorrimer, a colleague of David Hunter, was outside. I had enquired of him last night. Went and had short chat before he departed for London.
Diary and letter writing took up the rest of the morning. Wrote a long letter home and to Tony Reynolds in Bombay, then I nearly faded out with sleep. I knew I got up too early. I retired and slept beautifully for an hour then back to letter writing. Lunch didn't happen and finally we headed for a "village restaurant" as directed by the boss man here. Most satisfactory place where we ate for under $1 including beer. Back to more letters, one to Christine Hughes in Perth, and coffee. Then disturbed by Irish Gerry and his Canadian group. Was constrained to drink some of their wine - very good - and natter till late.
First City Excursion 6th Oct
What a day! I must write my impressions of it before they fade. Usual happy morning self, but while the kettle boiled I managed to sew the shopping basket together again! After morning ablutions, we set off for Istanbul. Want a bus, go to bus stop. Brian proclaims minibuses to be the buses, but we are put right by a Yank. Actually, they are called dolmuş. Eventually one stops, and rather than wait longer we cram ourselves into its bulging seams.
Where are we when it stops? Click here for Istanbul orientation. We are supposed to be at Aksaray Square (but this destination is undergoing major surgery) and we are in fact opposite the Grand Bazaar. What luck! It is one maze of small covered-in shops (not market stalls) and everywhere there are jewellers, puzzle rings are available in profusion. I have never seen a fraction of that number of jewellers in one area before. It is overwhelming. After looking at a small corner of the bazaar (and happening across Roger again) we set off for BP Building which is possibly 4km away.
Brian, with his usual directional sense suggests we walk in completely the wrong direction, happily I am able to navigate by the sun. The whole of the hillside in this part of the city is covered with shops and stalls, mainly clothes. And then we see a huge mosque, and behind it the Golden Horn. Down by the water, looking back the skyline is dominated by majestic mosques, looking almost space age with their minarets. The view from the Galata bridge across the Golden Horn, which appears to be floating, is "something else". The traffic is solid and the horns almost incessant, and the people! Where do they find them all? So many people, and every available space is occupied by a stall.
On the other side of the Golden Horn, along the "embankment" is a sea of shambling white. Some sort of military performance, but the standard of the arms drill? Oh! And when it is over they shuffle away, leaving an immense (probably permanent) traffic jam, and pedestrian jam. As we move further inland red service men and blue service men pass in an assortment of vehicles. Then we climb up a side street to the main street.
This is a much smarter part of town. The shops are positively luxurious. It is a long way to walk, and hunger is getting the better of us. Brian spots the post office as we walk past, so yesterday's efforts are duly despatched, at considerable cost. A little further on a restaurant is advertised up a side street and we wander vaguely round a self-serve food stall, buying first a large beer then shish kebab with bread, salad and water. Very good, we have at last discovered chilli peppers.
Just as we are about to leave Luici comes and asks us where we are from and starts to talk. First he helps by giving us a bit more vocabulary, mainly from the menu. Then the conversation ranges through selling our car and how the associated passport problem can be overcome. He gives us his phone number. He speaks excellent Italian and French and very passable English. He says he is a translator earning £1000 per month. By way of comparison my initial annual salary when I started as a graduate at Shell's Stanlow Oil Refinery three years earlier was £1000. He tells us about black market money (unsigned travellers' cheques), his brush with Interpol over heroin and several other things (was he "for real").
After maybe a couple of hours which were most enlightening, we go on to BP Building getting slightly lost on the way, but the Hilton landmark saves us. The Hilton Bosphorus was built in 1955 and is the oldest Hilton outside the USA. Here we talk to some of Lorrimer's minions, who suggest a more southerly route, and give us an excellent map of Turkey and MoCamp guides. Then off to the tourist office for maps of Istanbul and so back to the post office where we go and find the public telephone hall. Jetons are required to operate the phones but we make a successful call to Sergei Obolensky (contact of David Hunter) and arrange to meet him in his office tomorrow morning. Back through the seething streets towards the bazaar. It is really quite cool now, should have brought a woolly. But in the bazaar it is OK.
We see a notice to the "old bazaar", and suddenly find ourselves in an even quainter section. Here we satisfy our desire to buy. I want two puzzle rings for little finger and second finger of left hand. First shop has nothing suitable for us, but a little one that fits is found, and the price starts at 12TL and finishes at 10 very quickly. It is said to be silver. On to another shop with more suitable looking ones. Even more fuss about finding the right size, tried to sell me one too big because knuckle is big compared with finger, but unsuccessful. Found right size and price starts at 15. After some acrimonious haggling 11.50 is arrived at. Good haggle that. Meanwhile Brian finds suitable meerschaum and arrives at the equitable price of 30.
Time to eat. Back to where we came in and into "our scene" restaurant where we paid 20 for quite a large meal, including meat balls, more chilli peppers and American salad that was rather good though somewhat expensive. After the meal we tried raki, rather insipid compared to ouzo. Now it's too cold to stay so down to Aksaray Square for minibus. Soon found one going our way, leap in. The number of revs used is unbelievable and soon the strain takes its toll. It won't run at lower than maximum revs, on reflection probably coil. Out and into alternative bus and so out to MoCamp. Over coffee we look at routes to get to Izmir. Southern route is said to be bad by someone who tried it last year. We also find ferry across Sea of Marmara.
