There are, invariably, three certainties when we travel: 1. Our flight will leave from the gate which is as far from the security area as is physically possible. 2. The same holds true for hotel room, they are always at the end of the hall off the opposite end of the hall from where the elevators are. 3. If we are to be picked up from our hotel whether by a guide or an airport shuttle, we will be picked up first, and then taken on a meandering tour of every other facility in the region.
And so, while our cruise departed at 9, we were rousted from our lobby at 7:30. Hour and a bit of narrow streets and pick-ups, including a quick stop at a traffic light where the driver simply got off and was replaced by a guy who had been standing on the corner eating a sandwich.
On to the boat and out into the Bosphorus where the wind was building swells of several feet. Once clear of the breakwater, the upper deck we had chosen to sit on became an amusement park ride. Being intrepid travelers we forsook the shelter of interior seating and chose to experience the roiling seas by anchoring ourselves and our plastic chairs to the railing of the upper deck.
V braving the buffeting Bosphorus
Turned out to be an excellent decision when one of the guides, a fellow fun-fair aficionado, joined us for the duration. With him all to ourselves, we were treated to a two hour conversation ranging from the mile-long chain that was used to blockade the strait in the 15th century to the mercenary past of the Kurds, to the perils of the bartending life in Istanbul.
Bob the Magnificent, our Kurdish guide
Landed at the Rumeli fort, an amazing piece of fortification built in 4 months. After a tour, it was obvious that much of this construction miracle is attributable to skimping on stairways which, to my vertigo-ed eye seemed no more than a foot wide, damned steep, and impassible when two people, both clinging to the stone wall for dear life, meet. I would have done the decent by sliding my bum from step to step, however having one cheek dangling, as it were, would have been small reassurance.
Photo of Bosphorus traffic taken at peril to life and limb from fort parapet
On to the Spice market and more, convoluted urban landscape. V and I have long been aware of our limitations when it comes experience overload. In places like the Louvre or British Museum it's two hours tops before our eyes begin to glaze over. It's not that we've exhausted our interest in so short a time, but rather that we need a break to absorb what we've seen. And so it is with the wonders of Istanbul's bazaars. After spending several hours in the Grand Bazaar yesterday, the Spice Market proved to be too much, and we found ourselves giving cursory attention to things which otherwise would have been fascinating. Obviously, we will need another, longer visit to this amazing city.
Skill testing question: Where was this picture taken?
Accordingly, we decided to spend much of our last afternoon amongst the comfy cushions of a restaurant tucked into a back street. Good food, warm breezes, cold Efes, and entertainment provided by waiters soliciting business and dates from passersby.
Sometimes life is so good that you just have to pinch yourself.
An evening walk for one last look at the city set the hook for another visit.
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