another city, another blister

Another city another blister.

Istanbul’s dry dusty dilapidated landscape stands in stark contrast to Singapore’s glittery, modern, new buildings. The equatorial heat haze of Singapore was replaced by the bright blue skies that reminded me of home.

It was 6am when we landed and coming into the city on the train I was acutely aware of the state of disrepair of the buildings giving the suburbs a sense of the slightly shabby. After Singapore’s slick MRT transport system the rickety red rattlers were a stark reminder of a very different reality.

In true back packer fashion we spent the first half day of our stay in Istanbul being lost. Standing in from of station rail maps with pieces of paper, trying to match what you think is the suburb with a name of the map full of ‘z’  and ‘k’ s and ‘j’s.  The telephone number of the apartment we were to stay in (booked and paid for via the internet) wasn’t answering and we were facing the prospect of having to find alternative accommodation. So as any good traveller does in situations like this we took ourselves off to a restaurant for lunch. And delicious it was. Falafel, tabbouli, eggplant, capsicum, eggplant, vine leaves, yogurt dip all swimming in a sea of olive oil. What is not to love!

We asked our waiter (who in any other context would have been described as sleazy) if he knew of the address, because we knew we were supposed to be within walking distance of where we were. It only added to our disquiet when he told us he hadn’t heard of it.

Back on the streets, 2 back packs, two suitcases, warm clothes and boots and ready for a postprandial snooze (it was 34 degrees) the quintessential used car sales man asked us if we needed help. (Of course he didn’t really sell cars, it was Turkey and he sold carpets). So he took us into his shop, looked at our piece of paper, plied us with apple tea and tried to sell us a carpet. After a while an elderly Turkish gentleman came into the shop. Our used car sales man gave him our suitcase and told us to follow him. Now good judgement absconds when you are a lost tourist in a country where no one speaks your language, so we meekly picked up our backpack and followed the man with our suitcase. When we arrived at the lodging it was not the one I had booked on the internet and my suspicions were growing.

Now it is a sad reflection on my imagination that the majority of Turkish men look swarthy and as though they are carry a concealed Ottoman dagger on their person, because with only one exception the Turkish men we have met have been more than incredibly helpful and as it turns out the elderly gentleman was the host of the house we were looking for. In broken English he and his wife apologised f for not being contact able and for having to put us in another apartment as our original booked apartment was having an air conditioner installed. To compensate us they took us out for dinner to a great restaurant right beside the Sea of Manmara. Delicious food and good company. A great start for out stay.

In a city that was designed for horses not cars, the cobble streets and narrow winding lanes cause traffic chaos and frustration for the drivers and entertainment for the onlookers. There is always someone with a vociferous commentary and I frequently regret not being able to speak the language. It is a wonderful place for people watching, a great melting pot of Arabs, Tunisians, People from Africa and Mesopotamia and the Balkans states. In fact we have heard very little English since we got here. A large percentage of them are here on pilgrimage to visit the Blue Mosque or Sultanahment Mosque.

The call to prayer “Allah is Most Great “ is heard from minarets like this one from the Blue Mosque all over the city

I had thought that the ‘Blue Mosque’ would be a blue mosque so I was a little disenchanted when I saw it was a steely grey. I hadn’t appreciated that the blue refers to the amazing blue tiles that line the interior of the mosque. The Mosque was built in the Ottoman period around 1609. It is an amazing building and I felt privileged to be there. Over the central chandelier if you look way, way up you can see a triangle with three Ostrich eggs as part of the design. I was told they are ‘proven’ to keep spider webs away from the chandeliers and they must be right because I didn’t see any spider webs while I was there.

Entering the mosque you are asked to remove your shoes and women who had not head covering or were wearing strapless tops or shorts were provided with blue wraps to put over their heads and shoulders. Now I currently have no strong religious affiliation but I was saddened by those who wore their blue wraps as a scarf and left their shoulders and head uncovered.  I think they were trying to make a point but the only point made was one of disrespect.

We went to the Turkish and Islamic cultural museum. In a country that does not welcome dissent; the art was ‘nice’ but showed little passion or revolt. I guess if your county’s borders are vulnerable to threats from warring neighbours and refugees fleeing from Syria there is little enthusiasm or energy for art to shock.

The Topaki palace was impressive in white marble and set amid many acres of garden. In their heyday the palace kitchens could serve 10,000 people. The palace had a separate kitchen for bread, and another for confectionary and another for meat. The palace is vast and bordered on three sides by the Sea of Manmara, The Golden Horn and the Bosporus. We saw a ceremonial military band, the mosque, the treasury, the circumcision room. It has it all.