Day Zero- eat

By the time we check in, unpack, washup, change some Euros with Ismail Hakki at the hotel (money changers are going to be shut now, we still don’t have liras) and leave, we are starting to feel tired from the flight. I guess it was about 2am for us by then, and instead of hunting, we went to a place recommended for its cheap backpacker-friendly food- Doy! Doy!, or “Fill up! Fill up!” is stone’s throw from our hotel/ pension room, and though its much blurbed rooftop (“we have terrace”-of course this photo is from the daytime) is shut for the night because of the cold, we troop up three flights of stairs and past a considerable number of travellers eating to finally see our first menu. It is full of kebaps. Not kebabs, not kababs, but kebaps. But we don’t order any.

D calls for a mixed meze plate (mezes are Turkish appetisers, usually cold but sometimes hot, served with bread), I can't help but ask for a veg pide, or turkish pizza. There seem to be more than a just a couple of vegetarian items, so my prospects don’t look too bad- as always, this perks D up, who feels happier eating with that knowledge.

Our first meal is delicious. The pide is tasty, not least because of its differently familiar cheese- aromatic, a little salty and sour and very juicy. Now I know the food posts are going to be a tough ask- my mouth has been watering the past two minutes. D’s mixed platter possibly pleases her even more- there are about 6 mezes in it, and three of those- yes, three- are patlican (eggplant) based. We expected this, but to actually see it is, I can only presume from D’s squeals of excitement, a big delight for her. And there are fatly cut green olives- perfect first meal after all we've heard.
We follow it up with a glass of Turkish kahve (coffee), which, I must admit, only the bravest coffee lover must try- it is seriously strong. It would be our first, and somehow, unfortunately last, Turkish kahve.

We were satiated but also passing out by now. Abandoning plans of roaming the night market we had made our way through some time ago, we return to the hotel and crash out in no time.

Day Zero- merhaba!

Ataturk Havalimaani is the first time we have landed ‘abroad’ together- we even flew to Singapore separately. It is late evening, past 5pm local time, as we stride through the very regular looking walkways, the occasional smile to fellow passengers recognised from the frantic running at Doha. We’re in the pretty short lines for immigration; I step up first and say “Merhaba…?...yes?”.
That’s hello in Turkish, and the official smiles and gives me the correct pronunciation. That’s the first of many ‘merhabas’ we shall hear. He pulls D’s leg a bit about retaining her passport, and then sets us off with a cheery “gule gule” (gewleh gewleh).

The Lonely Planet says Istanbul airport charges about a Euro for the use of trolleys, so we more or less abandoned the idea of one. As I bought a bottle of Smirnoff for the trip, though (another cost saving measure), Devika retrieved a trolley from somewhere- and no one was paying anything. Ahead of me in the line were two 30-ish Turkish men, with their allotted quota of two litres of spirit. We’d bumped into them a few times since Doha, and by the time I told them we could take more booze for them on our quota, they had passed ahead.

One of the best resources for turkey travel, particularly the capital, is the TTP. So we’ve got some extracts to add on to the trusty LP. Very useful of these is the step by step guides of getting from the airport to the main tourist accommodation area- Sultanahmet- which we fish out and begin to follow. At the exit we are hit by the cold. Its chilly, but there will be time to feel that later! We notice the same young chaps, one of whose parents and family have come to receive him with hugs and kisses terribly reminiscent of IGI Airport. The other, smiley fellow smiles at us yet again asking where we’re headed, and if by taxi. When we reveal our great plan of guided Metro-tram travel, he says we could go together; as I hurriedly stuff the Smirnoff into one of the bags and lock it.

Our new found companion has never used the Metro either (isn’t that a little odd?) As we approach the ticket counter it dawns on us just how spaced / unused to this we are- we have not changed our money! Asking him to carry on, we turn to head back to the main airport- but wait, he will have none of it. With the first of many “its not important”s from him, he buys our tokens before we can say Mustafa Kemal Ataturk. Shaking our heads, we follow him- bewildered and embarrassed, if smiley.

Istanbul seems to function on a combination many modes of transport- the metro, tramway, buses, ferries, suburban train and taksis. The partly underground metro- entirely so for the 6 stops we travel on it- takes us to Zeytinburnu, the starting point for the surface tramway which will take us to where we need to go. There are no money exchangers around, and our tram tickets too are bought by Ufuk, a ship captain. We feel even more foolish, very grateful and quite taken aback by it all.

It is evening now- the sun is setting so everything we see is in quickly- fading light. Like the little glimpses from the airplane suggested, the city seems to be quite low lying. We see nothing more than a few storeys high, but whether that is normal or only in the areas we are passing through remains to be seen. Neither the tram nor the Metro is air-conditioned (which is a big change from Singapore)- though of course the weather means we don’t need it either. The roads are like you’d expect any big city’s to be- fairly crowded, well lit buses, possibly fewer cars than I’d have thought. Ufuk must go to meet his girlfriend- whom he charmingly refers to as ‘my darling’, a couple of stops after ours, but gives us his number in case we need help in Istanbul, particularly with transalations. We bid him adieu after thanking him profusely and happily. Email ids are exchanged and the PA system informs us that we have reached Sultanahmet.

The cold comes in a chilly breeze and we dump our bags on the side and look up, but the first sight that greets us is brightness in the night.
We don’t quite know it, but are suitably impressed- the hotel is priority, though. We eventually did not do what we said book through the net, though without any payment. Hotel Antique offered us a room for 30Euros a night with a free one-way airport transfer thrown in- and we figured what the heck- saves us the bother. We found this through the Rough Guide on the net, and few mentions in the Thorn Tree forums- but it doesn’t feature in the Lonely Planet. We have the address though, and the map of Sultanahmet in the LP orients me with where the street is, or at least the general direction of it. Or so I thought. Five minutes walk west of the tram station and we are accosted by a street café manager.
“My friend, can I help you…”

He proceeds to give us detailed directions to Hotel Antique which seem a little at odds with my understanding of the map. Given his complete lack of any ulterior motive (he did not try to sell us carpets or get us to eat at his place), we followed his instructions till we reached the previous tram stop. Make that “the previous tram stop”! Surely this could not be right. A couple of more people were asked for directions- a little difficult, the communication given they had not even a smattering of English at their disposal. The fourth person was a shop owner standing disinterestedly. He took the book from D’s hands (where the address was scribbled), promptly turned back into his shop, picked up the phone and called the hotel to figure out where they were. Lo and behold we have the correct direction! Back exactly to where we had begun, (encountering the café chap again who was baffled that his directions were wrong and very reluctantly let us on our way), we pass what we now know are the turrets of the Blue Mosque lit up for the festive season; and find ourselves, all of a sudden, in the midst of a bright, bustling and noisy street market. More like a carnival, actually. We manoeuvred our way past innumerable food stalls, almost as many kebab skewers and countless people eating something or the other and eventually, about 40-45 minutes after getting off the tram and lugging around not-real backpacks like backpacks, we arrive at Kucuk Ayasofya Cadessi, and the tiny, tiny 3-storey thing professing, against the odds, to be a Hotel.

We did not come expecting a mansion and do not get one. But the room looks adequate, the loo is clean and though they both are as tiny as the facade suggests they’d be, it doesn’t really matter right now; for finally, at about 8.30pm on October 14, our stay in Istanbul can officially begin.

Day Zero- off!

7.45am flight. Aim to reach by 5.45. Sleep at 3 (don’t even ask!), wake at 5am. Bathe. Tingle. Re-check bags, all the important stuff. Am quite an under-confident traveller. Actually, I don’t know because I am a non existent traveller. Only my third ‘international’ trip, including my move to this place- D’s fifth, maybe. Call the cab company (we have never called in a cab till now in Singapore)- after making D hold for 5 minutes they happily say they don’t have a cab to send. Er, ok. Call the next, get a cab. Its there in, like, two minutes. It’s a gleaming white Mercedes. Beat that! (there’s a long story about taxis and merc taxis that I have been planning to write for a while, but haven’t. Basically flagging down a Merc Taxi costs the same as any other, but we have always just missed them- by few seconds, or by one place in the queue- repeatedly).
So here we finally are, being driven in style to the airport, thinking if this is not a sign then what is? What a start to the day, the trip, the nerves.

Singapore’s Changi Airport is a delight. It is huge, sprawling and extremely efficient (from whatever we have seen of it), with hundreds of shops, cafes and a few bars. There’s so much space I can’t imagine it ever feeling crowded. We’re through everything in no time at all, and change some old Traveller’s Cheques (USD) and our Sing dollars into Euros. Aren’t planning on using my newly acquired debit card there, so it’s the whole budget in Euros- hard cash(gulp)! Lazily making our way to Gate no. C23, we pause- ridiculously- at the free Internet stations. Who would have mailed us in those few hours? That’s right, no one. In the Boarding Lounge we start scribbling our little journals.

Board Flight QR 639 at 7.15 or so. The flight leaves at 9.30. Close to two hours late. Welcome to Qatar Airways, we think. I proceed to watch Batman Begins (again) while D sees Mr&Mrs. Smith, which she can’t describe as ‘crap’ enough, followed by Bollywood’s Page Three. Then we both synchronise and watch the absurdly interesting The Jacket, only for time to run out with us about twenty minutes from the end.
Only a few hours into the 8 hour flight does it strike us that reaching late for a 1.5 hour stopover at Doha means we’re going to be almost half an hour late for the connecting flight to Istanbul. We look, understandably, to an air hostess for reassurance.
Us: “excuse me, we have a connecting flight to Istanbul that leaves at 12noon (Doha time). Looks like we’re going to be late but they’ll hold the flight, right?”
Her: “I don’t really know, sir. There’s a large group going to Cairo I know, but I don’t know about Istanbul. If there aren’t too many people….”
Us: “but…they…can’t…I mean…aren’t there others..but…”
Her: “If you reach the flight only 15-20 mins late it should be ok, but I am not sure they will hold it beyond that.”
Thanks, honey. It is 12 noon right now, we are still in the air and the flight is supposed to have left a couple of minutes ago. Your ignorance is real comforting.

As it was, we are part of about half the rest of the passengers who were running out of the plane for connecting flights they are late for, or getting late for. We’d tried to decipher one of the languages we heard, suspecting it was Turkish- sure enough they were along with us being herded manically to the next plane sans any real check in, boarding passes thrust into our hands.

Soon after (but enough for the flight to leave even later than it was supposed to- an hour in total), the next thing in our hands is the lunch ‘menu’. Chicken, beef or fish? Thanks, but you need to find me a vegetarian meal. It was bloody tasty though, the pasta I got- am not so sure about D’s meat dish. Oh, guess what- no alcohol on Qatar Air. That’s the price of cheap tickets, we think glumly. This flight is cheaper- no personal movie thingies, so all hope of catching the end of The Jacket disappears with the trashy movie that appears on the common screens.

D dozes a little. I look out a little, trying to coordinate the map they keep showing on the screen with which part we are flying over now. Cappadocia, maybe? Closer the Black Sea, probably. I nod off and wake to see Istanbul is 200-odd km away. Those whiz by, quite literally, in a plane. I nudge D awake, and I’m gland I’ve got the lucky end of the draw- the window seat on the second half of the flight. We peer through the sunlight and see water far below. Little toy ships- is this the Marmara or the Bosphorus? Then tiny matchboxes come into view, with- are those minarets? I don’t know, but I see the runway, and with that bump come smiles.

We have touched down in Istanbul, Turkey.

truth, truth and statistics

numbers don't always tell the story, they say, but they're fun indicators, aren't they?

THE TURKEY TRIP IN NUMBERS

nights in turkey : 10
days in turkey : under 10
hours in turkey : 238.5
towns visited in turkey : 3

flights : 4
flights on time : 0
airports : 3
types of public transport taken : 6
cross-country km travelled : 1886
long bus rides : 3
nights in a bus : 2
ferry rides : 3
swims : 3
distance walked on the trip : app. 50km

meals in turkey : 29
kebaps consumed : 6
patlican (eggplant) dishes tried : numerous!
pides consumed : 7
olives at a meal : 11 times
lokum eaten : 2
cups of cay consumed : 7
beers consumed : 28
raki consumed : 90ml
vodka consumed : 750ml

historical sites/monuments : 9
museums : 2
beaches : 1
islands seen : 12?
mosques seen : countless
minarets pointed out : countless
oldest thing seen : 400-something BC

weather on arrival : 15 Celsius
coldest during stay : 9.7 Celsius (!!!)
hottest during stay : app 22 Celsius?
average Istanbul temp : 15.02 Celsius
(during our days there)
cloudy days : 2
sunny days : 8

phone calls made : 2

phone calls received : 0

no. of times net acessed : 0

no. of hours tv watching : 0

interesting people met : 11

email ids/contacts : 5

postcards sent : 9

photos taken : 921