a sibilant intake of breath

We managed to stike out a bit more from Istanbul’s standard tourist track today: visiting the university and a more conservative neighbourhood called Fatih. It made for quite a lot of walking, altogether, but it offered more of a glimpse into how city dwellers here generally live. Ivanka’s ability to pick up a smattering of Turkish very quickly has been quite impressive. She is already able to communicate desires and numbers to shopkeepers: something far beyond the capacity of my father or I. Probably, spending the last few months living just across the Black Sea has been useful, for her, in this regard.

Starting in one hour, we have a fourteen hour bus journey to Cappadocia. During the ride, I mean to sleep, write a second battery of twelve or so postcards, and give a more comprehensive look to the language book that Antonia gave me (I have already finished the one on food, and look forward to trying some Raki). We will be staying in a place called Goreme, which supposedly caters a bit more to the backpacking sort than to your standard tourists. We will be spending four days and three nights there and given how it is generally listed along with Ephesis as an essential tourist spot, I am quite sure there will be internet access.

One notable feature of Istanbul are the men (invariably men) who stand in front of every stall, shop, and restaurant and try to convince passers-by that they should enter. They are always fairly energetic about it: sometimes bordering on the aggressive. That made the following exchange that much funnier:

Man outside kebab restaurant encourages us to come in, stressing how fine an eating experience we would have.

My father: “Do you have anything without meat? We’re vegetarians.” [Actually, it’s just me, but it’s kind of him to help.]

Kebab man, incredulously: “Why?,” said as though he has never heard a more mad idea.

Us: generally shrugging shoulders, rather than trying to explain.

Him: “Then, you must go to another restaurant.”

Now, they did have vegetarian items on the menu and, in my experience, not even a restaurant called the Steak and Burgers BBQ will actually tell you not to eat there, if you are vegetarian. My vegetarian friends have frequently been reassured over the phone, to later be presented with only salad and french fry options (the latter being only dubiously unrelated to the killing of animals). It makes for an odd contrast with the people who will follow you for a block, trying to sell you a hat in which you never expressed the slightest interest.

On another note, somebody on the tour that my father and I took today who learned, at lunch, that I was a vegetarian later asked to have his picture taken with me, on account of the fact. Odd experiences, in both cases.

The original version of this post was extinguished by a brief power failure that occurred as I was writing it.

I have spent the morning of my first day exploring the old city. It is quite impossible to miss the first two calls to prayer of the day: both happen before the hotel breakfast begins at 8:00am. I was the first one to partake in it (an aberration from my normal travel pattern) and to appreciate the elevated view of the Bosphorus, with deep orange light from the morning sun illuminating large container ships and tankers heading north to the Black Sea.

The Sultanahmet becomes comprehensible quite quickly, as you develop a general sense of orientation based on the location of the Blue Mosque, the Hagia Sophia, the city walls, and the park full of soldiers that wraps around down towards the ferry landings at the entrance to the Golden Horn (Istanbul’s strategic natural harbour).

Between the ferry landings and the open space encompassing the old city’s two most famous monuments, there is a tangle of small commercial streets of impossible complexity. Appreciate the bustle, the appeals of touts, and the inexpensive street food, while maintaining as consistent a bearing as possible. Otherwise, you will probably start looping without entirely realizing it. Once you hit a big street with tram lines on it, follow it northwards (towards the strait) until you find yourself between the Hagia Sophia and Blue Mosque. Knowing your bearings, with reference to this place (where any local or shopkeeper can direct you) seems the most intelligent approach to developing a working knowledge of Old Istanbul.

One nice thing about the city are the scores of wild cats, reminiscent of Rome but healthier looking. I have probably already seen one hundred today, and they are all quite elegant and intelligent looking. They are all also quite young: either a sign that they do not generally endure long, or perhaps that the youngest ones are the most visible. Probably ten percent of those I have seen are unmistakably kittens: most of them a mottle of ginger, brown, and white. While dogs seem to prefer the large, open spaces the cats are undeniably in charge of the alleyways.

I’ve only ducked into this cafe to provide better directions to the hotel to my father and cousin Ivanka, who will be joining us tomorrow. As such, I am off to find a nice spot to have a coffee and read, while I await my father’s arrival. Tomorrow, I suspect, will be given over to seeing the most interesting things that we would not feel obliged to re-visit with Ivanka on Wednesday.

The following is pragmatic information for the benefit of future travellers, rather than any sort of lyrical fırst impressıon of this fascinating city. Time constraints, hunger, and the strangeness of Turkish keyboards all interfere with my desire to relate such initial impressions.

My travel book, the 2003 Rough Guide to Turkey, speaks of only one airport in the cıty: Ataturk on the European side of the Bosphorus. EasyJet flies to a different airport: Sabiha Goklen, on the Asian sıde.

To get from the latter airport to Sultanahmet is not actually too difficult, but the means are non-obvıous:

Right outside the termınal, wait for a bus called Is Gunleri (İ am omitting all accents, on account of keyboard unfamiliarıty). The bus will cost more than two but less than three Lira, and you will not be given a ticket or receipt.

Take that bus all the way to Kadhkoy. This will take about 3/4 of an hour, based on modest traffic. At the end, you wıll reach a kınd of bus termınus beside many boat landıngs.

North of where the bus stops, look for a boat that costs 1.3 Lira and that advertises Karakoy as the destination. Take it across the straight, with its gorgeous but hazy views of the old city. Shortly after passing under a low bridge, get off at the first landing.

You are now near the Sirkeci Train Station, in the northern part of Sultanahmet. If you are like me, you will buy a pretzel – for strength – and then spent three whole hours searching for your hostel while admiring the complexity of the settıng, appreciating the beauty of the mosques, and exchanging wary glances with battle-scarred feral dogs.

Now, I really need to go get some dinner.

PS. As of today, Canadians needing an entry visa are being charged US$60. You need to have it in cash, and exact change, before you arrive in Turkey. UK citizens are being charged a more modest 10 Pounds.

PPS. You will never realize how often you use the letter ‘i’ until you try a Turkish keyboard.