Wednesday, April 10, 2002

Turkiye

Türkiye

Istanbul:

Half on Asia, half on Europe, separated by a stretch of sea called the Bosphorus, which itself separates the Black sea and the Sea of Marmaris. And where was I staying? Well, my friend Nihal is a most well connected young lady, and I stayed with her in the most beautiful flat high up on the European side, overlooking the Bosphorus and with a beautiful view over both that and the Asian side. Arrived late at night to many hugs from Nihal and an all-night catch-up session (it’s been 11 months since she left London). We knew we had been up late when we heard the early morning ‘ezaan’ (Moslem call to prayer). Sitting listening on the balcony was amazing: you hear it from all sides (there are thousands of Mosques in Istanbul) but one was really special: the sound comes bouncing over the water from a mosque on the Asian side. All this while dawn is breaking; watching the endless shipping traffic on it’s way from the Aegean to the Black Sea.

Spent three days looking around Istanbul, well at least a tiny part of it. The whole city stretches 200km across (!!!!!) and is home to a population of 12 million people. Did the classic tourist sights: the Blue Mosque, Ayasophia (once church, turned mosque when the Turks invaded Constantinople in 1453, and a fabulous mixture of the two faiths. Christian crosses with Moslem symbols painted over, and the once-plastered-over Christian mosaics now on display again: a fabulous place), the Archaeology Museum and Topkapi Palace (a marvel of ostentation and royal luxury). All interspersed with shopping trips to bazaars, markets and modern shopping centres. Security is quite tight everywhere, and you go through airport-stylee x-rays and metal detectors just to go shopping! And, of course, countless glasses of TEA. As much of a tea addict as I already am, Turkish tea is fabulous. Strong, black, always served in little glasses on pretty saucers and just perfect with two lumps of sugar. Served in any café, but also on the ferries (not in yucky Styrofoam, but in proper glasses) and anywhere else you happen to be. I was enslaved! And that’s probably the thing I miss the most.

After a tuition period in Istanbul Public Transport (there are many and varied ways of getting around) and on the encouragement of an acquaintance of Nihal’s, “you MUST see the other palaces”, and Nihal having had enough of sightseeing (poor girl is NOT a fan of history. Prior warning to any other prospective Nihal visitors: expect to do the sights on your own while Nihal finds a cup of tea somewhere and waits for you…) I decided to be the intrepid traveller and face the rigours of Istanbul on my own. Having successfully negotiated my way across the river to the Asian side (this involved a cab, a bus and a ferry) I decided (again, on the recommendation of Nihal’s acquaintance) to walk to the palace from the ferry stop. “It’s a lovely walk!” he said.

Well, it’s not. Most of it is along a very busy road and there is a huge Military Exclusion Zone in the way. To get around this, you have to walk through a traffic tunnel. Not a pleasant experience. Ever the intrepid traveller, however, I persevered and was happy and very pleased with my intrepidness when I found the palace I was after. Also by this time a nice touristy shop selling ice-cold water was just what I was after. Having found the entrance, it took me a while (I was engrossed in reading the very long list of rules for entering the palace, including that you have to buy a separate ticket (at the same price) for your camera) to realise that it was, well, closed.

Undaunted, I curse a few times, laugh at the situation and head back (by motorised vehicle, this time) to the ferry and decide I will have to make do with the other palace. It is (well, LOOKS) very close to the ferry, can’t take long to get there. Successfully ferrying (and tea-ing) my way across back to the European side, I set off for the palace which looks from the river like it starts just about there. Finding the entrance, I am told by a none-too-friendly security person that the entrance to the palace itself is around the other side. This is an entrance to something else (although it looks pretty much like the palace to me). Can’t be far, she thinks. Now, bearing in mind it is thirty-something degrees and I have just walked for over an hour; another twenty-minute walk takes me to the main entrance. An armed guard moves me along. Undeterred, I remember spotting another entrance a few minutes further along (I’d spotted this on a previous bus-journey passed here). A few minutes BY BUS further along. Eventually I find it, rush up to the gates and it is, well, closed.

At this point I adopt Plan B and have a cup of tea at the nearest café. So much for exploring Istanbul by myself, but at least I had a bit of an adventure figuring out the transport.

Highlights of Istanbul: being totally adopted by Nihal’s sister, brother-in-law and niece (with poor Nihal translating) and treated to all kinds of Turkish delights (no pun intended), and then there was the ‘futbol’. A more football crazy country I haven’t come across. The day Turkey beat Japan in the world cup to go through to the quarterfinals was one to remember… After the match we headed to Taksim Square (Istanbul’s answer to Trafalgar) and there everyone was going absolutely apeshit! Red and white EVERYWHERE and people singing and dancing and screaming and shouting and generally being very, very happy and boisterous. This was the best they had ever done in the world cup before. There was a classic moment when the crowd was moving down a street in one direction, and a tram was trying to go the opposite way. A ten-minute standoff ensued until the tram finally won. The atmosphere was absolutely electric and this was one of my favourite moments of the whole time there.

Cesme

Got a coach down to the Aegean coast, to an area called Cesme (close to Izmir on a map). A 9-hour journey including a lovely ferry crossing (and more tea) and a flirtatiously entertaining befriending of the two waiters who serve, yes, tea, on the bus. During this journey I extended my Turkish vocabulary and grammatical knowledge to include being able to say such fascinating and useful things like “the Black sea is in the North. The Mediterranean Sea is in the South. Japan is in the East” and, “Greece is in the West”. I had to perform this trick many times to satisfy Nihal’s other friends with whom we were staying in Cesme. Also listened to the England v Brazil game on the radio on the bus (it’s easy enough to follow, the Turkish words for ‘foul’, ‘corner’, ‘offside’ and ‘goal’ are: ‘foul’, ‘corner’, ‘offside’ and ‘goal’. Useful. I also lost a 1 million Turkish Lira bet with one of the aforementioned waiters. A million Turkish Lira is worth about 43p on a good day.

Spent a very relaxing week down at the sea doing little besides working on my tan, hanging out at very exclusive beaches and spending the evenings in very exclusive open-air, beachside nightclubs, hobnobbing with the very rich and famous (I met a real-live Turkish pop star!!!) Did I mention that Nihal was a very well connected young lady?

My only problem with this lifestyle was the music. Anyone remember Modern Talking? Really fucking awful 80’s pop duo? Well, take the sound of modern talking, and attach a Julio Eglesias pop video made on a rather tight budget, and remember that the concept of The Band doesn’t really exist (it’s all programmed beats with a solo super-star singer) and you get the idea. Add to this the fact that the Turks are absolutely mad for their local pop and the same shit is played on the telly in the morning (Turkish version of MTV), on the car radio on the way to the beach, at the beach during the day, on the car radio on the way back from the beach, on the telly at home over dinner and getting ready to go out, at the club ALL NIGHT and in the car on the way home… It drove me completely fucking insane and became a standing joke between me and my hosts all week. These Turkish girls: playing a local pop tune is like switching on an on-switch. There’s a western dance tune playing and they are swaying their hips a bit. Let the Turkish tunes start and all of a sudden it’s hands in the air, the belly-dancing moves begin and they all scream at once and they ALL know ALL the words. It is a phenomenon to be witnessed.

Having had lots of prior warning about Turkish men, at first I found them to be pretty alright. Boring (they do love talking about themselves, and ask you questions they don’t wait for you to answer) but more than willing to foot the bill for drinks (important if hanging out in very exclusive/expensive night clubs) and you don’t have to sleep with them if they do. Pretty alright, that is, until I ventured from the protective fold of my Turkish girl friends…

I am an explorer. Lying around on a beach is something I definitely enjoy, but when in a new country, I have to look around. My ability to look very far was inhibited by the fact that I was completely dependent on other people for transport, so I took to exploring the bits around the very exclusive beach where we spent most of our time. The first secret beach I found was lovely and lonely and although I could still hear Turkish Pop wafting on the wind, I felt isolated enough to feel slightly at one with nature. This successful adventure behind me, I explored in the other direction. The direction I chose was Out To Sea, given that the exclusive beach owners cordoned off their exclusive bit of sea with a line of buoys. Don’t draw lines in front of me, I will cross them. So I crossed this line and found myself in the next cove, a lovely totally undeveloped beach, just me and the seagulls and the wind. And the GoatMan. The GoatMan wasn’t unfriendly. In fact he was a little too friendly. After pointing at two of his (many) goats humping each other and laughing, he encouraged me to say hello to one particular goat. I was not at my most confident (all I had on was a bikini, I’d had no plans to meet anyone) so bashfully patted the goat on the head all the while thinking ‘this is not the best place to be in right now’. I didn’t really feel threatened, though, until the GoatMan leaned over and grabbed the goat’s genitals and showed them to me. It was at this point I decided Fuck International Relations, I Am Out Of Here, and swam back as fast as I could. Relating the tale to Nihal, she pointed out that perhaps he was actually offering me some goat’s milk…

Same evening I agreed to go out for drinks with a Turkish guy I met on the beach (who spoke English), more out of the need to have a conversation with someone besides Nihal (who, almost two weeks down the line, was still heroically translating: my smattering of Turkish wasn’t really up to the necessary level for in-depth girly chats!) than any real desire to have that conversation with him in particular. This ended up in an uncomfortable situation on a boat, which I decided to walk (run) away from – luckily I had borrowed a mobile phone and the girls were on their way out in the vicinity and picked me up immediately. No harm done, but pissed at myself for being a bad judge of character, the first thing that happened when we got to the club was a Turkish tour guide started suggesting we spend the next day together. Poor guy didn’t really reckon on me having just had a very bad day with men, and my response may have been a little bit on the harsh side…

Back to Istanbul the next night (same waiter on the coach!) and a horrible night spent not sleeping with a fartous and garlic infested man in front of us. Not only did he smell bad but he hummed while he was awake and snored when asleep. Good thing, though, was we did the ferry crossing at dawn (with more tea), which was spectacular.

Last evening was spent in the company of Nihal’s brother and sister-in-law who took us out for a gorgeous dinner at a fish restaurant.

A truly special holiday. I was treated so well by just about everybody I met, was totally absorbed into their groups (even though chatting was difficult) and was made to feel extremely welcome. Turkish hospitality knows no bounds.

But, back in London now, and back to reality… At least I have a tan to show for it, though, and it was so special to see my friend again!