We had a very hurried breakfast the next morning in the smoky dining car (the 4 men sitting next to us were smoking and drinking beer as though it was 8.30pm, not am), where Jen was getting cranky at the poor service from the train staff. One of the attendants had also fallen asleep in front of the Western toilet overnight so no one could use it. It was a relief to get off the train in Istanbul finally, although the fun wasn’t over. We still had a very crowded ferry ride over the water before piling into taxis. One went off to Chora Church and the rest of us to our hotel, with our driver under strict instructions to follow Jen’s taxi, which he didn’t. Cue a 3 point turn over tram tracks at the worst intersection just outside Aya Sofya on the main road and Jen losing her temper, complete with striding over the road and shaking her fist at our driver through the window. And old man even ran away from her. I saw my life flash before me several times on that drive; sometimes I just had to shut by eyes. The frustrating thing was being so close to the hotel, but being responsible for 5 extra lots of luggage so we couldn’t just get out and walk. Finally we were safely inside our nice room.
Toby and I ate kebabs in the park (mine had chicken and chips, very traditional I’m sure) and then decided to tackle the Grand Bazaar, but due to my non-existent haggling skills it was not a pleasant experience. Luckily we found a shop just outside run by a nice non-yelling man who actually put his prices on his stuff and didn’t bother us at all. It was much nicer so it put us in the mood to have ice creams outside the Blue Mosque, enjoyed the sunshine and then back to the hotel to pretty up for our final group dinner. Jen took us on the tram over the bridge and then up the fernicular to Taksim, an area that felt very different to the part of Istanbul we’d been in until then. It felt European, trendy and local. We had drinks in an alleyway full of restaurants and fish shops and then moved into a restaurant for meze, which is when our American member realised she’d been pickpocketed and had lost her wallet. So she and Jen spent most of the meal on the phone to the police and credit card companies, which put a bit of a dampener on the whole night which otherwise would have been lovely. The food was great and a few of us shared a bottle of raki, which I liked more than I expected. It definitely went well with the food. After dinner a few of us walked down the main drag and got some ice cream. The football had just finished and I guess Istanbul had won because the atmosphere on the streets was electric, like New Year’s Eve. The fernicular was shut so we followed the crowds down the hill to the tram stop to go home.
The next morning we had a lazy start. Most of the group was leaving so we said our goodbyes and then those of us staying were taken by Jen to our next hotel, which was lovely. We sat in their nice rooftop restaurant having tea and getting some ideas for excursions from Jen, who seemed unwilling to leave. She was starting a new group that afternoon as their leader wasn’t available yet, and then the next day was heading off on an active trip full of twenty somethings. Definitely not the job for me; I would need more than just a night off between groups. We had lunch next door to the hotel, even though we realised it wasn’t the same pide place in the Lonely Planet, and then headed off to find the Istanbul Modern, which involved a longer tram ride than we’d had before. It was a good museum, especially as we’d seen so much old stuff in the past 2 weeks. They had a cool Design Cities exhibit and a small one of Russian photography from the 1920s and 30s that I loved. We walked back to the tram via Taksim to look at some of the shops and get some traditional sticky Turkish ice cream that tasted like chocolate paddle pop. In the evening we took Di out for Mother’s Day dinner to a local place with 4 things on the menu, and then some baklava for dessert which wasn’t as good as Mr Delicious.
The next morning after breakfast (which included a strange but tasty fillo and cheese pie) we met another lady from the group and got the tram to the Bosphorus ferry to try out one of Jen’s suggested excursions. We were super early so got good seats and then had an hour looking at boats and fancy hours and pointing to the no smoking sign next to us when people tried to smoke in our section. Yes, we are the smoking police. We managed to get off at the right stop and find a bus back along the coast through some nice areas of Istanbul. I saw one man at a bus stop put his arm through the doors and put a half-used packet of tobacco on the ticket officer’s counter; he got five lira for it. An interesting transaction. We got off at Ortakoy as instructed by Jen and couldn’t find the promised markets, although we did get some gigantic baked potatoes and then waffles for after, which were delicious. It was a long and not very interesting walk back to the tram stop to go home, but we probably needed it after that lunch.
That afternoon Di and I went off to experience our first hamam (Turkish bath). Other ladies on the trip had been doing it at different places, but we decided to save it for the last night. It was quite expensive and a bit odd, but I was glad we did it. We decided to go to one of the older, touristy ones which was near our hotel. I’d read the Lonely Planet explanation, and some online ones, about hamam etiquette, but in the end they weren’t very helpful as it was just different enough to be a bit confusing. We were given towels and showed to our cubicles, which were more like little rooms with a bed and space to change and where you left all your stuff. I had my swimming bottoms on, as that’s what Jen said she did, and Di left her knickers on too, but we were the only ladies there to do so. We walked into the main room which was a big circular space made of marble, with little sinks around the outside walls and a raised platform in the centre, beneath a domed ceiling, where half- or fully naked women were being rubbed by old obese ladies wearing swimsuits. Bizarre. We really had no idea what to do and no one came to tell us, so Di and I just sat by a couple of sinks and started to wash ourselves with the soap we brought. Finally one of the ladies noticed us and came over to get cranky. ‘No wash, no wash,’ she said, and moved Di from her sink to mine, so we sat there on a little platform using small metal bowls to scoop water from the sink and pour it over ourselves. The women being rubbed on the platform all looked very relaxed; they also all looked like they were from the same Scandinavian volleyball team. Not intimidating at all. Di and I sat pouring water for what seemed like ages, and finally realised that until we went and lay in the middle of the platform, the ladies would assume we weren’t ready for our bath. Finally it was our turn; I got laid down on the hot marble and the lady introduced herself as Frances. I got loofahed (but not as much as I expected, or would have liked) and then soaped up, and taken back to another sink to be rinsed, then back to the hot marble to be rubbed with oil, then back to the sink to get rinsed again and have my hair washed, which felt a bit strange. It was like being a child again, and being bathed by my grandmother. Then it was all over so Di and I ran back to our rooms to get changed. Other ladies were sitting around in their towels drinking tea but I kind of just wanted to leave. It was a strange experience but I’m sure you could find places that were a bit friendlier, or where you got a better loofah. I was glad to have finally done it. That afternoon some friends of Di’s flew into Istanbul as part of their holiday, so we met up with them and took them for dinner at the pide place from the Lonely Planet we’d missed the day before. I don’t think any of us got pide but it was a good meal anyway.
The next day we decided to do an early morning visit to the Archaeology Museum, which people in our tour group had been raving about. It was an amazing place as they had amassed a lot of stuff; it was also nice to be in a museum where the stuff was from the same place and didn’t feel like it had been stolen from foreign countries. They had some brilliant tombs and statues but what I remember the most was a cabinet full of ancient tablets with writing on them; one was labelled ‘The Oldest Love Poem In The World.’ Unfortunately there was no translation but I intend to look it up. The others looked very boring; regarding house sales and crops and so on. We got back to the hotel in time to have lunch and then Di got picked up to be taken to the airport. We had another hour which we used to buy some cheap drugs from the chemist and then it was our turn to be taken to the airport. We had to go through several lots of security but fortunately the long lines Di had experienced earlier seemed to have disappeared and it wasn’t too difficult to get through. An uneventful flight to Amsterdam again and then back home to Edinburgh, where we arrived about 10.30pm. All in all, a fantastic trip which comes highly recommended and a big, huge thankyou to Di who made it all possible.
Provence hillside.
The red part is what we've done; we have spent the past few days resting, recovering and buying more supplies at Margaret's lovely house in Oxford. The blue is what we will start tomorrow. By Tuesday night we will hopefully be safely ensconced in a picturesque French camping ground. That's the plan, anyway. Camping in France is by all accounts a great experience so we are hopeful. It can't be any worse than England (Scotland on the other hand was a dream). Here are some photos, to prove we are actually on a bike and camping, in case anyone doubted us.
Washing day in Pitlochry (our first stop and a lovely campsite with a shop being run by a girl from Western Australia)
Let it be said that using a bike as transport is much harder work than a car, on all sorts of levels. This is Toby in a little village on the Black Isle, using a hack saw to take some knobs off the back tray on the bike so our big bag sits better. I bought the hack saw from a hardware shop over the road and returned it 10 minutes later in case someone else ever needed one. We bikers are a considerate lot. Did you know they even acknowledge each other on the roads? I finally feel like I am part of a gang. Sort of.
Had a lovely couple of days on Skye, enjoying views like this.
