"ISTANBUL (not Constantinople) ... Now it's Turkish delight on a moonlit night"

I arrived in Istanbul to a round of rapturous applause as I walked out through customs. How delightful. It didn't take me long to work out it wasn't actually for me ... but I never did work out who it was for.

Hundreds of people jostled for position outside the entrance a few had names on cards and for the first time I had organised an airport transfer... but couldn't see my name. So I watched and everytime an obviously Muslim person came out through the doors (and there were plenty), the crowd broke out into applause. Why? Where had they been and what had they done? I will never know.

But before I fully arrive in Istanbul let me mention a couple of things.

A tiptoe all travellers, try to catch flights at sunset... it is magic to watch and lasts so long. Colours are intense and surround you and reflect and entertain and mesmerise and then... you are there. 

Also, there may be MANY xray security pass-throughs, both in Madrid where I left and Istanbul where I arrived, but most had security guards having a nabber NOT watching the screen. Not that I care really, I mean I reckon terrorism will be getting more sophisticated than that...

Anyhow my eyes kept searching the crowd eventually I found my sign and the man asked me to wait while he fetched the driver (apparently his role was purely sign holding and he had a few other names for other hotels too). I waited, he came, I followed, we loaded up and we drove off.

HOLY FUCK! Have you seen how they drive in Turkey? Mad Fuckers! They change lanes every few seconds, don't indicate, don't slowdown and just hooooooonk. And my driver was the worst - any car he saw in front of him, literally, was a challenge... something to catch up with and then zoom around. Not only that, he then decides to get on TWO, I repeat TWO mobile phones. Now I'm not sure how much ENglish he knew but he pretty much ignored me and then put on a tourism video, loud and on loop. I just sat back and prayed - well, my version (fuck, fuck, I don't wanna die fuck please etc).

When we arrived I poured myself out of the car (I was jelly-like) and headed into the hotel.. no fucking way was he getting a tip!

The hotel was all good - except the internet which would be the bane of my week there.

Day 1 and I was woken before 6am to the sound of the local mosques call to prayer. Quite a beautiful wake-up call if it wasn't so friggin early! Had a huge buffet spread (that we had each morning and I routinely grazed over for well over 2 hours -mainly coz I was up early anyway and could get internet in the dining room!) and then it was time to head out there.

My first morning I headed off by foot and was immediately overwhelmed as you always are in a new big city. The noises, the clamour, the traffic, the people, the shops. I had a vague plan to head for "the Old City" - you know all the big name stuff but in Turkey it seems there are a few main roads and then many little maze-like small streets that are rarely signposted. Maps are totally inaccurate. I asked people and discovered far fewer spoke any ENglish but all were willing to point in general directions.

I was struck by the fact that to make gettin around by foot a tad more difficult - already dodgy, wonky and overcrowded footpaths - there were frequent traps set to swallow you whole. That is, basement shops had stairwells leading down to them... no protective railings, no warning signs... just a gaping hole and stairs!

In the first 10 minutes I'd also witnessed a man blatanty swapping his licence plates on his truck, a tram stop between stops so the driver could have a chat with mates, 2 cars drive down footpaths (there were pesky road blocks in their way!) I took to crossing roads only when running parallel to other people - essentially they were my human shields!

Anyhoo, I love wanderin around observing people and their daily lives... soon I found myself at a tram stop and kinda worked out how the ticketing worked and filed that in my memory for later... kept strolling, stopping and staring - ah the priveleges of being a tourist. Found myself at the Grand bazaar - cool! But as this was day 1 and I'd already meandered for a bit I just wanted to stay on the outskirts, I didn't explore fully but dipped in my toe!

Here are my phone notes and some pics:

Again the prayer floats over the top of all that is happening - the hustle-bustle, the honking, the bartering... an insistent, gentle wave that entrances me - I'm sure if I understood what was being sung, I'd shudder. God just ain't my main man in any religion!

Scarves, shoes, hats, perfume - shit I don't want, don't like and don't need.

A man trying to sell me black socks, another Rollex watches anothr perfume fakes. Nup, nup and nup

Turn left - cool the book alley - can't read but more interesting. Cats everywhere. People have left small piles of food at random. Nice. Kittens in amongst bric-a-brac.

I am speaking Spanish accidently, automatically, ineptly. Why? I am confusing stall holders (and myself) who start to reply in just as inept Spanish asking where I am from - I say Australia... I get a nodding smiling "AussieAussieAussie...." NNNNOOOoooooo! I realise that subconsciously my Spanish is a response to Mirar, Mirar (look, look) - that the stall holders call out... not sure what it means in Turkish or even if i'm hearing it right. Their yelling is a machine-gun fire into the crowds - a glad-bag of languages to startle and attract all tourists - I hear what I believe to be welcomes in English, Spanish, German, poss Japanese, Turkish, French and Russian

A

A hybrid of spanish hola hola hola

Got a minute to contemplate in sun... How s

Best to spend an afternoon?

Bahaha spice-girls stop and Jaz is with me

A night of strange local magic as I catch acferry up the golden horn- taking of my headphones to listen to the local soundtrack my ears are greeted by the dischordant clash of at least 5 large mosques calling to prayer the sound accompanied by the jackhammering put a smaller boats all of itbpunces off the water i had hoped would be golden but clouds prevent that.

The city sprawls in every direction on one side the more modern face- theother side there is greater evidence of the past, though it too is bathed in the florescent glow of light calling tourist to... Shop it would seem. As we float along, on one side, lit miniarets creat exotic lighthouse towers over the water as night descends, it is 5pm!

It takes but a few stops and suburbia is revealed- I will come back for a sticky beak when it is exposed for all it's glory by daylight

Brave flocks of birds bob in water like a pack of dogs playing on a highway, this river is busy

Water rides are holidays for me, I become immediately contemplative, happy

Even if there were no clouds, I will not see stars in Istanbul (luminescent orange night clouds)

Keeps thinking I am being pickpocketed but really I it things in the wrong place

Touts following tLking asking... Working hard

Corn at fountAin

An odd tumbling tribe of young teen boys- I put them at. 10 but turns out 10-14 escaped school or waggers certainly bold and funny fascinated by my watch, tattoo and mo! Funny I

Teravtipn I felt like a statue with a flock of cheeky seagulls o think they were trying to make me say rude things (little did they know I'd havebeenhappy to showing off there English George at random yes thank-you I from turkey dog cat fuck etc

Walk outbof the bazaar it is night

2 lira soup the sound of ululation

As they close the sound of clicking backgammon played fast

Men men men as far as the eye can see

To the man on the crowded tram with your hand in your pocket feeling my ass please know:

A/ You did a bad job

B/ I farted

Kamsi man barrow running at police

Driving parking pedestrians beeeep

Man with bows and arrows

DAY TRIP TO KADIKOY

It is an oddly overcast day – is it low hung wispy clouds, fog or pollution that obscures the horizon? Whatever it is, it leaves imprinted in it the ghostly shapes of tankers and ferries jostling in the water, in front of a backdrop of ancient mosques and an over-crowded metropolis. I am at Kadikoy, joining the locals for what appears to be a weekend ritual of drinking cay (tea) on plastic chairs overlooking the Bosphorous separating Western Istanbul – the Asian side where it is somewhat more affordable to live - from old and more touristy East Istanbul. I drink my tea with one sugar – I don’t even ask for milk… I haven’t seen any since I have arrived, it would be sacrilege. The tea served in a glass with paper-wrapped sugar cubes on the side… as always here, it is a little bitter.

Two boys, maybe 7yrs old… scurry along the fence line that separates the paved drinking area from the sloping park to the waters edge. They are selling tissues – I cannot communicate but I ask the young men at the next table to translate for me – I buy I packet and watch them continue. Minutes later I see them sprint and slide under bushes. I am not sure why they are hiding… I can’t see police. A dog is barking, are they afraid? I won’t ever know.

20 minutes later and a young girl maybe 10 is approaching table sto sell tissues and pens. Fuck. Most avoid eye-contact and ignore her. Her teeth are shithouse… so is her life if this is any indication. I must say though, while there are many signs of poverty there are fewer beggars and touts around Istanbul than the rest of Europe... at least on the tourist side..

People are free to sit here as long as they choose and it is clear that they stay a while… some have brought a packed lunch, many have brought pastries (I’ll know next time!) some are family groups, some are couples. The table of 3 men in their 20s beside me have 9 empty tea glasses on their table… I wonder how many more they’ll gather before they leave? I wonder how long/how many before I need to find a loo – the perennial problem of tourists… in Turkey I don’t even know how to ask, and I haven’t liked the ones I have been to – I often race into the hotel room at the end of a day of touristing.

To get here I caught a little funicular from the markets I had been to days before. It was like an old-school tram (like really old-school), only miniature, toy-like… I’ll walk back and soak in the vibe of the Western side … a slightly younger funkier edge. But in a really dumpy sense – fashion here is so samey, so K-mart/Target… though it seems to be purchased at market stalls. Subtle fashion distinctions can only be found in hair or jewellery … or maybe I haven’t found the “alternative” arty folk her or maybe they don’t see the need to mark and proclaim themselves through dress. I may never know.

When I walk back (no funicular this time, I want to soak in more sights) it’ll be via the market, which I loved last time… food of all descriptions including roasted sheep’s (I assume, could be goat) heads – I was actually tempted they smelt great but would have been awkward to eat in the hotel room!, pickled everything, fresh fruit, spices, dried fruit, fresh honey-comb (with bees still attached!), meat, fish etc The fish looks amazingly fresh and the fish I have eaten has been great. One thing was a little disconcerting though, as well as the many stands of fish, there were buckets of live fish swimming in with freshly killed fish… that must do their heads in!

Last time I came to this side I wandered around and discovered the antique/second-hand strip. It was cool – burrowing into cavey shops seeing beautiful bits mixed in with absolute tacky shite… couldn’t afford the beautiful bits unfortunately! I saw this instrument made of a pumpkin and thought of all my gardening mates when there is an over-abundance o pumpkins next time we might have to give this a crack!

Oh and why was this man sitting smoking with a fire-extinguisher… most people just butt them out. Life’s mysteries!

O yeah, a strange thing happened on the way here – my first incident of randomly running into someone from Australia in 4 months of travelling. And who was it? A friend, a colleague, an ex-student? Nup, my sister’s ex-husband! Go figure! On a domestic transport ferry … not even in the many meccas of tourism that are here. Weird huh?

My Plan for the day was simple – come here on Michael’s recommendation (good one!) and write post-cards/blog… only one prob forgot to buy postcards on the tourist side and haven’t seen any here. Oh well. A simple day because I want to be home early enough to pack ready for my trip to Izmir tomorrow. I go for 1 week - then I’ll be back in Istanbul for 3 days before heading for Singapore … OMFG – it’s all fast-forwarding all of a sudden the end is nigh, reality beckons… the upside? My friends, my bed and ready access to dunnies! ;)

After finishing this... the squat dunny, wandering around and home and stuff

sticky-tape obsession

Paris-de-resistance

So on the day of leaving the chateau (14th Oct) we still weren't 100 percent sure whether we would be able to catch our train out... only 1 in 3 trains were running from our region and all talk was of escalation - yeeks.... lucky for us it WAS the ONLY one running to Paris that day. Of course when we got on the train with all our luggage it was standing room only... for a 3 hour trip! Lucky (again) we had reserved 1st class seats and were given priority (let's face it I ain't even qualify as a chardonnay socialist - sweetie, move the fuck out of my way I am sitting this ass down!)

Paris one night then I was to train it to visit a friend I have not seen in almost 15 years, Maggie - who now lives near Nice/Antibes with her girlfriend (Valerie) who I have never met. But on the train I started to worry... IF I made it to Antibes, would I make it back to Paris and then onto my train to Madrid where I would then catch a plane to meet up with Stevey in Athens?

So torn - I support the strikers but could they have waited a week or two?! (yet another example of my failed socialism)

Anyhoo we arrived in Paris - Nikkii had a coupla hours to kill before her train to London (only line out of France that was not at all effected) - but that whole under The Channel thing gave me the heebies...

Anyways, we went to my teeny weeny hotel room (this is the lift that wouldn't fit my luggage - with or without a person in it!) The only thing smaller was the shower that was MAYBE 45cmx45cm

and then we went for a walk... and discovered this cute-as-pie tea shop - I had violet tea!

I'm not sure if you can tell from these pics but the owners had antique jewellery and bits for sale and had decorated the cafe with a cherry theme.

As well as dogs being allowed and violet tea there were many other bits of charm - hand painted frescoes, wonky seats and mismatching but cute teapots and china, the owners were doting grandparents and their newborn grandson was there being cooed at - even his crying added to the charm and character. I came back several times.

Soon it was time to say good-bye to Nikkii :( - as she headed down into the metro with all her luggage I wondered when I'd ever see her again - soooo in-each-others-14-yr-old-head-space for an intense and significant 6 weeks of this year?!

I started asking people what their predictions about the strike were - from storeshop owners to the hotel concierge... and then of course I got in touch with Maggie. Would I make it to Antibes... and then what? Maggie in turn asked her partner... I rang my insurance company... what was their advice. After much too-ing and fro-ing and internal conflict. I cancelled my trip to visit Maggie :( , booked an extra night in Paris and then my ticket on the Eurostar to London. Everyone was saying to git while the gittin' was good - the last time there were strikes about the same issue, they went for several WEEKS - no trains, no planes! The French have quite a militant reputation - yay (pathetic attempt to claw back some socialist respectability).

Basically I spent the first 24hrs in Paris dealing with bullshit bureaucracy... booking my under-channel escape route (gulp), a hotel in London (with fuck all notice so fuck all options) cancelling my flight from Madrid to Athens and booking one from London to Athens and Athens to Madrid... blah, blah, blah - ca-ching that'll be nearly $2000 please. fUUUUUUUCCCCKKKK! Thank fuck for credit cards eh?

I made all arrangements gambling on the strike continuing... if it didn't I definitely wouldn't get a cent back on insurance as it is... well, we'll wait and see. Lucky for me the strike did escalate - I would never have made it to Maggie's anyway - all trains there were cancelled, as were all the trains to Spain for at least the the week leading up to and including my originally booked trip!

Anyhow once all the bureaucratic bullshit was sorted I had an extra 24 hours to frolic in Paris! Lucky for me Maggie knew this area well and gave me a coupla tips - Paris hadn't won me the time before.

So in the morning I wandered around and in this section (5E - I think) I saw cute courtyards and found a nice outdoor market - with many of the French specialties - pate, cabbage and sausage stuff, cheeses - but more importantly given my isolation in La Roche Posay also some Turkish cuisine ... oh yeah, hit the babaganoush with a frightening fervour!

They also sold cape gooseberries (which I grow at a an average of 10 berries a year!) by the kilo... yeah!

Now Andrew (and any of my vegetarian friends), look away.

I've decided I prefer the honesty of the way they sell meat in many parts of Europe... you cannot pretend it is divorced from the life of a real animal. Course I'm still happy to eat that life (soz all)

I wondered along - sent packages home and a few chateau-cooked treats for Maggie and Valerie...

I discovered what an inner-suburban highschool looks like ...

Very jail-like, no? Only when the kids came and went could you see em - high fences, grey brick - shudder!

Of course in other instances the attention to detail on buildings was stunning - every wall painted with exquisite detail and then some feature panels of different scenes.

Even a man leaning out the window for a smoke can't undo the charm.

That's right, this trip Paris was charming me!

I wandered around and marveled at how much more honest the French were about more than their meat-eating. They acknowledge that people watching is one of the best parts about street cafe-life. They set the seats up almost like a friggin cinema, and the life around them is the movie of choice. Awesome, I watched many movies in my brief time!

I wandered down Rue Mouffatard and was captured by it's charm, both during the day and by night... Here I found much of the awesome graffiti art featured below... and now that I was heading for FUCKING COLD territory (ie London) that I hadn't packed for, I had an excuse to buy gloves and a hat (yay!)

Anyway here are some shots of Rue Mouffatard...

Paris is very charming, Non?

GRAFFITI ART GALLERY

Finding all this graffiti art made my heart sing - the spontaneous, risk-taking conversation between artist and pedestrian is always a joy (ps I make a distinction between street art and tagging ... tagging to me is just a bunch of boys (usually) pissing to mark territory)

In one spot I discovered many great pieces... but some were from further afield

For me graffiti art signals a city has heart - and an intelligent defiance. Approve!

This is just some of the art I saw, I did not always have a camera!

What this piece lacks in finesse and detail, it makes up in the feeling of joyous freedom it evokes!

A little tacky for my taste... but, whatever!

This piece I nearly stepped on! It incorporated a watermain man-hole, awesome!

Anyhows, brief as it was, this trip to Paris provided dimensions beyond tourism and sleaze I needed that if I was ever to have a reason to return. Paris, pleased to meet you at last, charmed I'm sure!

Iszit merely Izmir?

This trip to Izmir (the third largest city in Turkey) and it's surrounds - separate entry on Selcuk and Sirince - was bracket by two trips to Istanbul... the one I am on now as I write this (I WAS BUT NOW I'M NOT, I'M NOW IN LANGKAWI! sigh, time tick-tick-ticks), and the one before going to Izmir... it contextualises the experience... or it would, had I have written about Istanbul yet!

Regardless, my new intent is to alternate between blogs that are about recent times and blogs about events in the past... it will confuse but at least you will be a bit closer to my pulse ... whirring around the world in a blurr!

Anyhow, it was time to leave Istanbul and head south - hopefully find some milder weather and see some sights further afield than Istanbul. I decided to schlep it to the airport by PT... nearly got lost, but these to lovely Turkish gals came to my rescue, taking me there and even shouting me a train fare! (they had this tokeny thing and I had no change! The machine wouldn't accept notes)

Ecem (on the left) is now a facebook friend... I can't read any of her posts, and she can't read any of mine!

Anyhow they got me on my way and I arrived at the airport easily!

THIS NEXT BIT IS EDITED and rejigged FROM AN EMAIL I SENT A FRIEND... it describes my arrival in Izmir

Last night I arrived "here", Izmir. WHat a fucking arrival - the 1hr plane trip was delayed by more than 45 minutes while we sat in the plane on the tarmac... as we leave I count the number of planes lined up on the tarmac waiting to take off - 11 then I stopped counting...a weird little traffic jam.

Anyways the flight was non-descript but on arrival I saw this sign ... yeeks, whatever it means!

decided to PT it to

the hotel... train from airport etc Made it into town no probs in 3/4hr - pretty damn pleased with myself and my decision not to get an airport transfer - money a little tight!

I arrive at the station close to my hotel and with my google map on iphone, I start walking, its dark although only 6:30p. I realise after a few minutes something is not right. Of course there are no fucking street signs. I stop to speak to ask for directions from some men at a bus stop. None speak English but one guy kinda gets that I am looking for anafalataratartrat (whatever) street but doesn't know where it is so calls a mate then signals he will take me there. Sweet!

We start walking back the way I came. WE nearly die cos he crosses INTENSELY busy roads Turkish-style (go go go, beep, screech, go, go go). I am lugging a 25kg suitcase (thankfully on wheels) and have a 10+kg backpack on. We keep going - again it feels wrong. I stop and try to ask him and show him my map... we get nowhere. I sigh and keep following. after a good 10 minutes I see a road sign - we are NOT on the right street! I point to the sign and my map. We are on a street roughly 100 metres parallel to the one I need. I stop him again and show him. He gets it but still keeps pointing ahead.. we are not quite getting each other. We go into a hotel - they speak Turkish and English here. Yay. I get them to thank him for his kindness... they also give him new directions - at this point I should have flagged a cab. I didn't! He insisted he would get me to my hotel... So we walk out and he takes my suitcase to cross the road and we turn into some back street. Ok.

Then another.

The footpath (erm I'm being generous) becomes treacherous, there is little light and he is racing ahead with my stuff. (THE PHOTO: is the street by DAY that "pothole" is a good two foot deep in bits and there are many, many of them) I gallop to keep up. We turn in and out of dingy lanes... It is becoming clear he is lost ... he asks a young man who promptly follows us. I am getting increasingly stressed - I am now in back alleys with two men I can't communicate with ... one has my luggage and the only other "company" are men gathered around dodgy street stalls selling second hand shit... oh, and stray cats. We keep going. At last there is a main street ahead but my internal radar says nope...

Who cares, we get there and there's a police booth - my guide asks for more directions... the policeman knows nothing so he calls the operator for the address of the hotel... and then points us up a steep windy hill.

Well if the paths before were bad, now they're ridiculous. huge trenches randomly, wobbly paving stones, pebbles, gaps, planks of wood etc. Me thinks we are not heading for the top end of town... unless height counts! The man (whose name I do not even know) has started hauling my case up the hill by walking on the road into on-coming traffic... mainly buses! I keep trying to yell - stop, I'll catch a taxi. But he has no idea what I'm saying and by this point is 10 metres ahead of me. FUUUUCCCKKK I break into a sweat all-but jogging up the hill.

Along the way I try to take pics, but this is all I got!

AFter 10min he points t a building that could be my hotel... still up a steep hill but by now I am sweaty and speechless - we head in. I start thanking him and introducing myself ... I find out his name is Mehmet... but the men at reception keep wanting my passport and start taking my bag...they know my name so I guess this is home - I turn around Mehmet has gone - I didn't thank him properly. I feel terrible the man has taken an hours hard yakka detour from his trip home and I didn't thank him properly. FUCK.

My eyes start focusing on where I am - tacky blinged-up beigeness and a babble of men who do not speak English. I ask for a map cos we certainly have not come the way google maps indicated - they don't understand. They indicate for me to follow a man into a tiny lift - the doors wont close with me, my suitcase, backpack and the man. He presses floor 5 and gets out. The doors half close and the lift heads skywards... slowly. A dark hall greets me... and bright blue stairs.

Why did I leave Istanbul?

The man arrives and shows me to my room - it is brown but clean and spacious and... when he leaves, I lock the door.

I want to cry but I sit on the bed shell-shocked... for an hour. Then I grab my suitcase and go to swing it up onto the extra bed. Instead I create two long black scuff marks down the wall. I grab a facewasher but it won't come off. FUCK. I take off my shoes and sit on the edge of the bed in shock, again. Eventually I tentatively head for the window to look outiside. Not good in in the odd street light at night... grungy and ramshackle... I squint at a street sign. huh? its not anafalataratartrat (whatever) street... but we are on a corner. I go to walk to my bed but severely stub my toes - one split, bleeding toenail, the other broken(?) it doesn't bare thinking about! I decide to go to bed and deal with whatever tomorrow. I do.

I find a bedside brochure to read as distraction from the throbbing toe. Holy fuck, I am in the wrong hotel! It is their sister hotel (I am meant to be at Konak Saray, this the Agora Konak Saray!) It all makes a bit more sense... to be dealt with in the morning.

I lie in bed and already I think I'll only stay in Izmir a few days then head back to istanbul (i'm meant to be here 8 days but the vibe hasn't won me) not sure...

I am woken through the night by traffic noises and at 6am by call to prayer - the guys in Istanbul sound much prettier. This voice is old and scratchy... as tired as I feel. I go to the loo and the toilet seat breaks WTF- I am soooooo embarrassed. Now i'm stuck between wanting to get the fuck out of here, not wanting to have to deal with people and knowing I am broke.

The rest of the account incorporates iPhone notes and prompts by pictures...

When I wake up in the morning and look out the window my initial impressions are reinforced. (look close, half of the buildings are collapsing!) Sigh, I put the do not disturb sign on the door - I'm not up to them discovering the dunny-seat situation and head downstairs... WHen I head down for breakfast, I gulp, where the fuck are the women? ALL staff (I later discover there is a cleaning woman) and ALL guests are men. I feel observed. The staff are attentive and friendly but I still feel uncomfortable (some guests eye me off)... I mention that I am in the wrong hotel but have a lot of trouble communicating - they speak only rudimentary English and they suggest I talk to someone else later in the day. Ok.

It is time to headout and investigate where i am... in daylight. I head for the bazaar which is just down the road from my hotel.

The hill down into the bazaar from my hotel is steep and on the way a see a slap-stick moment... a man is holding onto a moving trolley as his mate throws the cargo from the truck onto the trolley. But as I watched the man holding the trolley was flipped cleanly over the handles and lands on his butt (a blow softened by the cargo). He was so shocked but it was so funny! (He was not in the least bit hurt... except, perhaps, by everyone's laughter).

The small moment lifts my mood

The bazaar itself is an array of clothing and domestic bric-a-brac... I know I have just skimmed the surface though because it rabbit warrens in every direction. I find some women but as far as I can tell they are outnumbered by men 10-1>

I must say ALL the clothes and scarves are ugly. Piles and piles of scarves but I want none - very fuddy-duddy! And the clothes are mass produced and dull knits VERY Target/Kmart. What's with that? That has been my impression throughout Turkey. The (VERY) ocasional young person in jeans and a T is a relief to the stretch knits in dull colours. I couldn't stand out more if I was wearing flourescent pink and orange... which I was.

After meandering for a short while I find myself on an esplanade and decide to walk along - the day is mild. It amazes me how many people just seem to be strolling along or chilling at the edge of the water... and not all of them are tourists - in Turkey there seems to be a lot more down time.

Notice also just how close chairs and tables are set to the water (less than a rulers length) - not a possibility in Oz too many council and occ health and saftey restrictions! MEn play backgammon everywhere!

They also have novel touts down here. Portable stands where men take your pic and the provide a colour print out straight away - all for 1 TL (approx 75c)

As I strolled further along I was approached on 3 different occasions by men selling rabbits (baby and full grown) very cute but impossible. Not sure how much these were.

The sun was shining, I bought myself a rose and found a four-leaf clover. Things were certainly looking up.

Then I found a stall that sold cake for 1TL - it was the most fucking beautiful cake I've eaten in... well I can't remember . At a guess it was semolina base with an orangey syrup with hazelnuts, rolled in coconut and served with cream. Awesome!

I also found another stall that sold dip and bought cucumbers and fruit too. ANd one stall that exclusively sold sesame seed products - essentially that meant varieties of halva and tahini - I bought Tahini. These things made great lunches and occasional dinners when I didn't want to go down the restaurant.

I strolled into a plaza where many people were selling cups of grain to feed the masses of pigeons... young children took the opportunity to chase them - a boy was almost dwarfed by the balloons he was selling - it was all a bit of a spectacle

When I got back to the hotel they called the guy who could speak better English. He wanted me to stay at THIS hotel - the rooms were better (and I must say except for being brown, the rooms were good, spacious!) but I wasn't convinced... I said I'd stay anothr night and think about it (I couldn't be bothered moving ;)... yet )

I ate in the hotel restaurant that night - I didn't feel comfortable walking around at night. I ordered chicken wings and was a little surprised when I was asked if I wanted kecap manis - I was in Turkey, not Indonesia... right? - with it... it took a little while to realise I was actually asked if i wanted ketchup or mayonnaise.

I was given a free taste of lentil soup - the chicken was nice but the lentil soup was better... wish I'd ordered a whole bowl instead. I also had sour cherry juice which came in a can! One waiter was exceptionally attentive, but it was nice speaking to someone who could speak ENglish (I know very colonialist of me but traveling solo can - in moments - be a little isolating) and I think he wanted to practice.

The next day I decided to find the hotel I should be staying at and sus it out. When I looked closely at the map I immediately realised how easy it was to get lost. Notice how half the streets are numbered - not 1st Street etc but 1092 and next to it 785 etc - and not named... and where anafalataratartrat (whatever) street (the street I was looking for on the first night) starts and ends is a mystery I have drawn a line on two bits labeled Anafartakar and guessed at a third unlabelled bit that might connect them...

Anyhow I wandered around and happened to find the police hut we asked for direction from on the night i arrived - well fuck me if it isn't on the corner of anafalataratartrat (whatever) street ... and he sent us in the WRONG direction. In retrospect I wander if he didn't call the hotel and they told him to send me to their other hotel... but even when I saw the booth and laughed inwardly, that didn't occur. When I found the hotel I was supposed to be in the nieghbourhood was no less intimidating (WHERE THE FUCK ARE WOMEN... they can be found in the market but only in the company of others and men are in abundance!). I decide to stay at the hotel but to shorten my stay and move on to Selcuk instead (I had intended many day trips via Selcuk... Ephesus etc). Decision made and I am happier... it left me 3 days to explore and frolic in Izmir... a largely dark and seedy place with - a commercial pulse but not a cultural one... well, that I'd discovered to that point.

I spent the next 3 days wandering around the bazaar and along the boardwalk, for the most part very pleasant and chilled... some featured moments:

When you ask for a train timetable in Turkey's third largest city, this is what you get. (Handwritten photocopy- paper sving too :) )

THE MARKET

I love watching the fish stalls throughout Turkey, the careful arranging of fish, the yelling, the watering of produce, the cats patrolling underneath, varieties of fish I have never seen. All awesome!

I discovered a new fruit,

Chilek,

which means

strawberry. It is only sold in side stalls rather than the main market stands - don't know why. When I got to Selcuk I was told its name is Montar and it is often served with egg! For me it was aesthetically beautiful... Deep, burnt orange mini-spikes with a skin of egg-yolk yellow. The outside texture does not sting, it is rough, like a cats tongue, but then it collapses to a custardy and blandish middle... nothing to write home about (oh damn, I am!)

here is a wee glimpse of the market in action - not sure why I filmed here, the other sections were far more interesting!

Everytime I went to the market I accidently discovered new nooks and crannies... and only a few I could find again.

Oh and I tried this drink - soz can't remember it's name - but it was gross. Had the texture of liquid snot, was horribly gluey and sweet with an after taste of tahini. I'm afraid I didn't finish it!

THE BOARDWALK

I have no pictures but I had an amusing interaction one day with 2 girls. I'd sat down along the boardwalk for a glass of cay (tea) and to write postcards. At the table next to me two girls were getting their palms read. I thought nothing of it... until every so often I'd hear a word of ENglish.... with thick Aussie accents.

When the fortune teller left, I said hello. Turns out they were from the Burg (Coburg) too - my peeps! Local Turkish-Australian girls who had come to do hospitality training here as they hadn't got the scores for the courses they wanted in Melbourne. And boy, weren't they girls from the Burg! They made me want to giggle - with their attitudes to school "twas alright but I neva learnt nuffing much." They stayed and chatted then revealed they were late to hospitality class - they liked the luxury of a seaside lunch before school ("It's like goin to Toorak everyday" - erm, ladies ain't no beach in Toorak maybe WIlliamstown? .... one was eating fish and chips, the other a burger) "Besides, we got a good excuse to be late we were "lost" it's only our 3rd day'

Fair enuf

In a lobby of a resaurant I saw this awesome "chandelier" - it made me think of the one in my lounge in Coburg even though it is nothing like it! Guess I'd hit Coburg mode.

Further along the esplanade (btw what is the difference between an esplanade and a boardwalk... who cares) I saw a man with several GUNS lined up. Yep, guns. Was he selling them? Wisely, I decided to get a closer look :) I mean what else do you do when you see a man with guns. No-one else even blinked. Admittedly it was a tentative, furtive approach... but I got close enough to realise he ws like the equivalent of an amusement booth at a fair. He had a string of small, half-blown-up balloons in the water. and people paid to have a shot at them. BEside the guns were pellety-like metal bits (not normal bullets) but they'd still do damage if they got ya... I suspect occ health and safety means nothing here!

One darkly clouded day I walked to the tourist end of the boardwalk where there is this interesting sculpture. As I approached it, and the plaza behind it, I became mesmerise by haunting music the was being played by a busker. A happy coincidence as I approached,people vacated a park bench (rare). I made a dash for it - from the other end so did another woman. We laughed and shared the bench.

Turn up the volume on your computer as you listen to this - the music was melancholic but beautiful. I bought a home-burnt cd from the busker so you can download some when I return but for now, here's a glimpse... and a surprise at the end.

MERHABA (hello) indeed!

The woman I was sharing the bench with and I had an amazing interaction that again lifted my spirits. A warm woman, an hour, a Turkish/English dictionary and atmospheric music- it is all I need and often.... in different guises what I accidently uncover. Our conversation ranged over the sadness of the music and how it matched that day's sky, our respective work lives, weather, Izmir, parenting, birds - she was the first person in Izmir to say "i love you" with laughter and perhaps a little imprecision... the joy of travel.

It is easy pretend all travel interactions are like this- they aren't

SHe leaves and I wander further along the boardwalk planning to catch a ferry back to my area at sunset. I do so knowing clouds will either make or break sunset - creating light lays or obscuring it entirely. At the moment they create painterly tones of grey and bright white

I walk, then I sit waiting for sunset and my ferry - I have just eaten peanuts in a paper cone from an old man on a bike. I pay in euro coins he is happy and so am I... Until he leaves and the perfect photo I have taken deletes itself from my iPhone.

A cat strolls across the open square to the men along the waters edge fishing. One man nudges the cat away with his foot, the other feeds it some bait - a third man laughs uproariously - I have a feeling this is a daily routine. The cat settles behind the shelter of the bin. Waiting for more.

Perfectly timed for sunset the ferry arrives... unfortunately so does a strong breeze and the thick clouds I had been concerned about.

On the ferry I chat to a man with perfect ENglish who is surprised I am not visiting Gallipoli as every Australian he has met, did.

He also told my that up the hills (the whole of Izmir extends up the sides of large hills) the settlements grew "overnight" in the 50s and 60s. WHat that meant was that newly arrived immigrants, in the dark of night would head up and build a house overnight! The Turkish government retrospectively gave title and citizenship to these immigrants - they were not removed, detained, tortured, vilified etc. Much more civilised!

This is what it looked like when I get off the ferry. The large plaza-y thingy with a lit-up mini-mosque this leads to the market and then my (uphill) walk home.

MY HOTEL

I can't remember what time of day this is either dawn or dusk. probs dusk- it seemed to be pitch black when they started up in the mornings... but here is a vid looking and listening at my hotel bedroom window - usually the traffic is much more chaotic and loud.

On the left is a typical Turkish breakfast (always included in your accommodation). Cheeses, hard-boiled eggs, cucumber, tomato, olives, a cooked tomato/capsicum thing, bread ... there are also cheesey pastries (must have been restraining myself that day!) and tea on tap (no milk of course!) with sugar cubes... oh there are also lots of jams and breads (I don't tend to eat that) and cold meats and frankfurtery things that are a disgustingly artificial shade of pink (they taste of but on the few days I wanted to change things up!).

Oh and the other tables - breakfast and evening - were always inhabited by men - solo or in groups. This night while I ate my dinner these men played cards (often it was backgammon) and smoked - everyone smokes everywhere and all the time in Turkey (in fact much of Europe)! WHile they played cards, one kept accusing the other of cheating and the other kept saying "oh, oops"... if I was getting the general tenor of the situation! WHo really knows though.

A day trip to Kadifekale.

After the chat with the guy on the ferry, I was reminded that I had intended to visit Kadifekale - at the top of the highest hill that surounds Izmir. It is famed for two things the ancient castle ruins and the amazing views of Izmir and the sea.

I had read in Lonely Planet that I could catch a local bus up - cool, I hadn't done a bus in Turkey yet. Finding the bus stop was, of course and hour long saga. WIth a man, who had hissed something at me earlier in the plaza area, following me. Oh happy, happy joy joy!I ducked in and out of alleys, crossed roads and, eventually, signalled in no uncertain terms to fuck off... without actually using the word. I eventually lost him but was still having difficulty finding the bus. Eventually I did with the help of some women who were heading there themselves. I used the travel ticket I had gotten on the night of my train journey and joined the bus...not having a clue where I was meant to get off... but figured it would become apparent.

Not that I knew when to ring it but the only 2 bus "dingers" were positioned above the door and on the roof... which seems quite cruel - I am tall compared with many in Turkey. The bus wound its way up and around and around and around a high hill... through suburbs and shopping strips... eventually the window show became more "rustic" and sparse. The bus stopped on narrow roads on an extreme angle... it beeped and bullied it's way through when the road width did not accommodate it and the oncoming traffic.

I could see ahead a huge Turkish flag that inevitable signalled the castle remains and the top of the mountain... we were getting close. But just as suddenly the bus stopped and everyone got off. We were at a village just down from the peak... I got off with everyone even though the bus continued upwards... I was interested in this place.

I got the stares as soon as I got off - I stood out as a brightly attired non-muslim woman... on her own. Oh well! I was struck by ... everything here.

the cutest truck ever!

The fruit and vegie shop

The butchers... (look close, it's a carcass hanging from a tree - he lops off the bits you want

I turned down a side street and could hear the echoing smash of tiles and bricks - in a derelict shop front kids were playing and taking debris.

In the next side street was a hairdressers - a street stall with blue tarpaulin and the equivalent of a milk crate.

It was my intention to head up to the castle ruins after a bit of an explore of the village... I turned a corner and this is what I saw...

were these the houses the guy in the fery talked about? The ones built in one day by migrants? Whatever, these building were clearly not made to last... it was quietly - disquietingly - fascinating.

Eventually I do make it up the top... around the corner from the modern ruins lie the ancient ones. It is fascinating how a 100 metre radius of pristine lawns and unpotholed roads lead to this tourist site... TOurists either arrived by taxi or coach... I never saw one exit the castle gates. I did the reverse.. I made it to the gates... stuck my head in saw tourist stalls of souvenirs and immediately reversed

The ruins I had come to see were nowhere near as fascinating as the ones I had accidently discovered.

On my way into the toursit zone I had noticed a group of young men sitting on stairs eating... the perfect spot, the perfect view. When I was coming back down I noticed they had gone... I headed to the kebab shop and returned to the stairs...

A magnificent view, glorious sun, a comfortable possie, the best food I'd eaten in Turkey and time to sit and contemplate. One of those perfect moments.

The kebab was surrounded by a light/bubbly sour bread

And I washed it down with the salty yoghurt drink of choice.

Then I sat there observing others observing me- I am not approved of (I don't think?!)

And why should I be, I sat there exotifying the everyday lives of others - imagining the task of putting plastic on the roof as akin to mowing our lawns.

Men men everywhere - eating, talking, drinking (not alcohol) - where do women do this?

The only women I saw were with one another and children...

All the kids I saw were playing with "garbage" either in the housing ruins or scraps of paper or empty drink bottles.

I sat and wondered which of their houses would collapse next...

Then I caught the bus back to my hotel, turned on the heating, played on Facebook,downloaded my photos... and remembered how different lives can be.