This post was first published on the blog "Tuk-tuks, chicken bouquets and bicycle bells" on kerrytolsontravels.com Our Turkish Crush started the moment we stepped off the plane and into the terminal. The surge of people was incredible and it was as if all the planes sitting on the tarmac had disgorged their passengers all at once and the race for Customs was on. There didn't appear to be any order as everyone pressed forward in a great wave towards one funnel line. We tried to find the end of the line but that was impossible as the crowd became bigger and people started slipping under the barriers and in some cases completely ignoring the 'guide ropes' and went up the sides and around in front of those who were waiting right at the front. Mal and I grumbled and mumbled together about the rudeness of people, shaking our heads and"tsk tsking" and tried our best not to be pummelled from behind into the people in front of us. What we should have been doing is taking notes in the art of cue jumping and learning the Frogger step for we are going to need it during our time in Istanbul. There is a reason why Turkish Delight is called just that - divinely delightful, it is the essence of Turkey. So sweet, so exotic, you bite in to it not knowing what is hidden in it's colourful pastel exterior and its ever so moorish, you can't get enough. This sums up Turkey and definitely Istanbul to a tee for me. The moment we step out of the airport and into the taxi we are surrounded by stunning colour, great swathes of flower gardens with pansies and tulips in swirling patterns adorn the sides and middle of the highway leading from the airport to the area we will be staying in. Elaborate fountains spray forth, laced minarets with magnificent domes pop up through the muted pastel coloured housing blocks. It's all a feast for the eyes.
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This post was first published on the blog "Tuk-tuks, chicken bouquets and bicycle bells" on kerrytolsontravels.com There’s a song about wearing flowers in your hair…. It’s about hippies and San Francisco. Yet a world away and five decades later, a halo of daisies and roses is the must wear item on all the young things wandering around cosmopolitan Istanbul. Turkish women in long skirts and headscarves with beads and coins dangling from them hold up rings upon rings of silk flower halos and they are being snapped up by the cashed up gap-yearers, the inbetween-jobees and the vacationing 20somethings. I find myself humming the song incessantly as M and I dash from must see to must see as every site has a woman peddling the colourful halos. Actually it’s a bit hard to dash from one place to another in Istanbul, we finding a lot of our time is standing in long ques or trying awfully hard to get out of the way of the maddening crowds. I have never in my life seen so many people concentrated in one space. It’s mind boggling and for the first time ever in all my travels I’ve suddenly developed Culture Shock. When I was researching our trip to Turkey, numerous ‘experts’ on TA (my favourite travel website) advised to do Istanbul last; enabling one to ease oneself into Turkey. I’ve decide to ignore all the advice and dive head on into Istanbul and give her six days straight. She’s given me a smack of reality back. The first call to prayer of the day wakes me. The Sultan Ahmet Mosque is just up from us and I can see through the window the dawn is just breaking. Mal is still asleep, so I pull on jeans and cardie and pop up to the roof terrace to watch the sunrise over the Mosque. Its stunning. Its also freezing. Five minutes of dancing around to keep warm whilst the days first rays hit the golden spires is enough and I’m back in the room and under the covers as fast as I can.
This post was first published on the blog "Tuk-tuks, chicken bouquets and bicycle bells" on kerrytolsontravels.com Rising early, I wanted to see the Hippodrome in its full glory. It’s a massive square with a huge ancient race track circling it, so I wanted to stand there without another soul and imagine what it may have been like a thousand years ago when gladiators whipped their chariots around the cobblestones and their win or a loss could mean the end of a Byzantine emperor’s rule. In the ottoman years it became the centre for revolution beginnings.
Stepping out into the street I was met by grey skies and drizzling rain. And it was cold. I dashed back into the room for jacket and brolly – it’s amazing how warm the Istanbul buildings are, inside anything more than a cardie was too hot to wear. Back outside I traipsed the quiet streets, there was only a couple of people about, a chap opening his corner store and another sweeping the road. Istanbul is exceedingly clean, for a city of its size I was surprised to see so little rubbish in the areas we had so far ventured into. I arrived at the Hippodrome and found it quiet. And indeed incredible in size and aura. The obelisks seem to soar into the sky and the rain didn’t dampen their splendour, if anything it highlighted their features giving the hieroglyphics depth and sharpness. The mosque was gently bustling with locals going in reverently to prayers and coming out in quiet chatter. This post was first published on the blog "Tuk-tuks, chicken bouquets and bicycle bells" on kerrytolsontravels.com
These Islands had been high on my list from the very beginning of my trip planning. I was fascinated to find Turkey had three Seas within a very short distance and connected by very narrow waterways. The Black Sea flowed via the Bosporus to the Marmara which flowed via The Dardanelles to the Aegean. I decided to try an take a trip on each of the seas and when I found out about the Princes Islands I just knew I had to go there.
This post was first published on the blog "Tuk-tuks, chicken bouquets and bicycle bells" on kerrytolsontravels.com
This post was first published on the blog "Tuk-tuks, chicken bouquets and bicycle bells" on kerrytolsontravels.com Come rain, hail or shine, we were going to do a cruise of the Bosphorous. That it would all come on one day was neither here nor there.
It was our last full day in Istanbul and I felt as if I’d hardly seen any on the ‘must see’ sights, we hadn’t been to the Topkapi Palace, we hadn’t gone up Galatla Tower, we hadn’t seen the magnificent Süleymaniye mosque, nor the Dolmabahce Palace with its crystal baby grand and chair and as for visiting a Hamam, I hang my head in shame and think, “How can I even say I’ve visited Istanbul”. I thought having six full days to dive in to this enormous city would be enough but I’ve barely scratched the surface. So we were determine not to miss a full cruise up and down the most important thoroughfare of Turkey. Part one. . . This post was first published on the blog "Tuk-tuks, chicken bouquets and bicycle bells" on kerrytolsontravels.com “Umm, isn’t this our side?” I say to Mal with a hint of trepidation in my voice.
Mal swerves sharply to the left, shrugs his shoulders and replies dryly “He’s allowed to, he owns it, it use to be his farm.” I stifle a laugh and instead groan at his joke as the tractor with its gaily painted trailer thunder past and we move back to the right side of the road. Tractors appear to be the mode of transport here, I’m sure there’s two and half tractors to every car…. and by the half tractor, I mean the little rotary hoe style tractor, also with trailer, we’re seeing everywhere trundling along the road. Mal is in his element, he’s behind the wheel and sharpening his wits against the Turkish drivers. There’s obviously a method to the madness I’m seeing in the rules of the road here, I just haven’t worked it out yet…. and we’re in rural Turkey where the traffic is a little more sedate. Part two. . . This post was first published on the blog "Tuk-tuks, chicken bouquets and bicycle bells" on kerrytolsontravels.com Mal was chaffing at the bit to get behind the wheel and drive so we hired a car and headed for Soganli, the most divine little cave village of the Cappadocia area (in my opinion). The landscape here looks as if it's straight off the celluloid strips of a Star Wars film, even though not a single shot of the movies footage was ever filmed here.
My initial reason for coming here was to buy 'Peanut' a doll this village is famous for. It's debatable as to whether the dolls are cute or fuggly but they certainly are unique and the selling of them is hotly contested by the womenfolk who make them. As I went to make my purchase I had the feeling my choice may have started a fiery debate as to who had made the better doll and the fact I was buying just one doll didn't seem to sit right. Surely I was to buy more. Other than becoming ‘deaf’ from the ear-popping 4660ft drop on the D350 mountain road, the 13hour night bus from Cappadocia to Fethiye is one of the best bus trips I’ve ever had the pleasure to do – smooth, comfortable and at times, extremely picturesque with an amazing light show from an evening electrical storm across the plains to a glorious sunrise dawning over soaring mountains, some of which glistened with remnants of snow.
The two hour mini-bus from Fethiye to Kas is horrendous. Not the worst bus trip I’ve ever been on (that accolade belongs to a Nepal moment of madness) but a bone shaker in any case. With windows and doors sealed tight, the driver refused to use any form of air ventilation and must have imagined he was driving an Audi sports along the Mediterranean coastline, cutting the corners so tight and hitting the brakes with such familiarity I was kind of wishing I’d just pass out from the stifling airless vacuum we were encased in. We board the bus, smiles bright and wish everyone a cheery “Morning all!”
Various Hi’s and hellos pop back, but what resonates loudest to my ears is a dry “oh don’t you hate it when you’re stuck on a tour with loud people,” from a woman who then proceeds to discuss at length at her neighbour in a strident voice how she thinks tours are for people who can’t organise their own lives or don’t have imagination. I try hard not to take her comment personally, telling myself I’ve probably stepped into the bus in the middle of her conversation and turn to the woman next to me and smile. She picks up her book and proceeds to bury her head into it and doesn’t resurface for the full 45minuets of the bus trip (or for that matter, the next 7hours - obviously a good book!) |
This blog on Turkey originally appeared on my blog site: Tuk-tuks, chicken bouquets and bicycle bells at kerrytolsontravels.com in 2014
Hello! I'm Kerry
. . . a plan-nothing, have no idea where I'm going travelholic.
A daughter of the gypsies and the wife of a workaholic, I'm forever wondering 'What's over there?' and devising ways to squeeze through the barbed-wire fence of small-business ownership responsibilities and every-day life tangles to discover it. Read more . . .and this is my book
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