We had promised G that we would wake her to say goodbye so on our way out the door at dawn, I tapped on her door and bade her farewell. We wandered around the corner to the taksi rank and for the first time since our arrival we found it devoid of taksis. A press of the call button brought us a ride in no time and as we were waiting, we were joyfully farewelled by our hostess with the most(est) from the balcony. A short ride later and we were at Ankara Gar, the main train station in Ankara. Swiftly through the security screening (as heavy here as it is in Spain  due to the PKK) , we found our platform and got on the fast train that goes halfway between Ankara and Istanbul.

The train was comfortable enough and travelled pretty fast. We changed trains at Iskedir which was really well marked and were on our way in the normal speed train. It was a pretty long journey but was broken up when the train steward came around with a cart full of treats- we grabbed a packet of chips, some biscuits that tasted like Nice biscuits and a cake which turned out to be an inside out lamington. It was a coconut cake with chocolate in the middle. When we stopped at one of the towns along the way, a simit salesman boarded the train with a basket of fresh, warm simit bread. And tea. Turkey pretty much runs on tea. Like most trains around the world, the tea here comes in a paper cup instead of the tulip glasses offered by carpet salesman (and pretty much every café.)

The landscape changed quite dramatically throughout our journey from the barren mountains around Ankara to lush valleys growing nuts and olives. We also saw a lot of building work – not the organized building we have in Australia but the building of dwellings without proper scaffolding or any safety equipment. One of the things you see a lot is what looks like half finished houses with the reinforcing steel jutting out of the bottom storey. This is actually how houses are built here – you build the first story and leave it set up for the second so you can easily add it later when you have money. The other thing you notice is that the sleekest, cleanest and obviously most expensive buildings are the mosques and all have at least one elaborate minaret (with loudspeakers of course, as no one actually climbs them for the call to prayer these days).

It was on the train that we got our first experience of Turkish toilets, in particular the squat toilets. These traditional toilets get even less appealing than western style toilets after a long train journey. Add to this Turkey’s wholly inadequate plumbing system and the requirement not to put toilet paper through the sewers but rather to place it in a bin next to the toilet. A lot of private toilets are heavy on the air freshener to combat this problem and some
of the posher public toilets are cleaned more regularly. Given the fact that you have to pay to use most of them, a certain level of cleanliness should be expected. The toilets on the train were what you’d expect – filthy and with
water on the floor by the end of the journey.

We will get to know the trip between Istanbul and Ankara quite well by the time we leave Turkey. The plane flew over it from Abu Dhabi to Istanbul, and then we flew from Istanbul to Ankara. After today’s trip o Istanbul we will return to Ankara on the overnight train as part of our tour and then fly over it again as we leave Istanbul in a few weeks time. [Solarburn – Alchemist – one of my fave songs from one of Australia’s premier
metal bands and some of the nicest chaps you’ll ever meet. They also do a marvelous War of the Worlds cover]

Our first stop after leaving the platform at Haydarpasa station on the Asian side of the Bosphorus (the sea channel that runs between the Mediterranean and the Black Sea and splits Istanbul in two) was to find a toilet. TC had suggested I hang on if possible and that’s exactly what I did. From there we caught a ferry across the Bosphorus. Like everywhere else in Turkey, there was no recognisable queue to board the ferry. Everyone
just kind of clambered on board. We sat near the front and warded off another round of men selling tea and snacks. The trip across the water gave us a good opportunity to see Istanbul from a different viewpoint but took only about 10 or 15 minutes.

We arrived at the wharf near the infamous Galata Bridge to a busy tourist hotspot – our first but probably not our last experience of Turkey’s growing popularity as a tourist destination for Eastern Europeans as well as Germans and sun loving Brits. The Turks have a close relationship with the Germans after they sided with them in World War I. And there seem to be quite a few who choose Turkey as a holiday destination. There were people everywhere and spruikers announcing the virtues of their Bosphorus cruise over the 57 others offered along the docks. We rushed past them to find a taksi – we gave the driver our hotel’s address and instructions and he assured us he could get us there. Rule no.1 of taksis in Turkey, particularly in Istanbul – when the driver says he can get you there, it doesn’t mean he knows where there is, it just means he is sure he can get you there… eventually. Our driver circumnavigated what seemed like the same series of streets several times, stopping to ask everyone he saw whether they had heard of our hotel – the Newport Hotel. By now I was getting worried the hotel didn’t exist or was so bad, nobody ever stayed there. Eventually after about four or five sets of directions and a lot of laps of what seemed like the same narrow streets, we arrived at our destination. The hotel looked like it was either a cheap hotel trying to look more impressive with the use of gilt and mirrors or a hotel that saw its heyday in the ‘80s. Probably a little of column a and b. We checked in and headed up to our room which while not extravagant was comfortable enough. From there it was off to explore Istanbul.

Our tour includes a full day of exploring Istanbul but notes that the Ayasofya, the church turned mosque turned museum that issaid to be one of Istanbul’s great highlights, would be closed as tomorrow is Monday. Of course we set out to find the Ayasofya. Armed with a map (although not sure where we were on it), we looked for the infamous building. We wandered through the back streets of Sultanahmet until we came across an impressive looking domed church which was being renovated on the outside. It turned out not to be the Ayasofya, which was much grander in scale, beauty and tourist activity. So when we finally arrived we queued, which is not one of TC’s favourite pastimes. It was interesting watching the tour groups of mainly older people weaving past the crowds, with ever observant tour group leaders rounding them up like sheep just like you see in the movies. And yes more of them than I care to remember were wearing white spray jackets and sunvisors. I hoped to myself that our tour would be quite different to this.

Everyone who has been to Istanbul has told me that I simply must visit the Ayasofya. Now I’m not prone to agreeing with popular opinion but in this case I bow and scrape to it. The Ayasofya is a magnificent building that is just simply overwhelming. As you wander through it, in awe of the 1500 year old church and its magnificent frescos, you wonder what life must have been like here during Istanbul’s tumultuous history. And whatever you do, when you walk into the main body of the Ayasofya, tilt your head back and just look up for about 15 minutes. No photos I have seen come close to capturing the magnificence within those walls. You simply have to stand in the middle and look up. And as the Ayasofya was used as a model for many churches and mosques in Istanbul (and indeed throughout Turkey) I imagine one of the most common travel insurance payouts for travelers to Turkey is for neck injuries from looking at so many ornate ceilings.

By now it was mid afternoon and we were hungry. We found the Sultanahmet (blue) mosque and the Basilica Cistern which we resolved to visit in our free time and headed to one of the touristy restaurants near Sultanahmet Square for a late lunch. We ordered a plate of hummus to share and I tried the kofte (local meatballs) which came with a Turkish salad of tomato, feta and cucumber – like a Greek salad without the onion. One thing you notice quite quickly is that bread in served everywhere, is complementary, plentiful and refilled quickly. Water is not, although a bottle of water is between a half and one Turkish Lira (25-50c) and even at it it’s most expensive  2TL ($1). After our late lunch, we wandered back to the hotel for our tour group meeting and introduction. [All she could ask for – The Creatures – Siouxsie Sioux re-imagined as friendly arthouse electro fare. One of my favourite promoters brought The Creatures to Australia some years ago and gave me complimentary tix (even though there was absolutely no prospect of me reviewing the show). Now that’s a true gentleman.

My main concern about a tour was winding up with a group of 18 year olds who saw the tour as a way to check out Turkish nightlife, get drunk every night and travel with hangovers. I secretly held out hope that as Turkey wasn’t the Amalfi coast and excessive drinking was frowned upon in Muslim countries, we might have a slightly older demographic. As it turns out, the age range on our tour was between 24 and 65 with more than half our fellow travelers older than both TC and I. But they definitely weren’t the white shoe brigade tour group we had seen the previous day. And most of them were Canadian. There were Ken and Rae, a retired teacher and nurse from Stratford, Canada, Bill, an architect, and his wife Jane who run their own business in Canada (I think in Toronto), Christina, a nurse from (I think) a community just outside Vancouver, Christine, from Toronto, Canada, who is involved in sustainability programs, a US couple from Cincinnati – Gerry and Sheila, the third of our three nurses and the extremely fit wilderness fanatics on our tour who had hiked in places I would be scared to go, kiwis Rob, an engineer and his wife Pam  who had just spent some weeks on a cruise through Russia, a brand management specialist from London taking a year out to travel (yes, I was very jealous she could do that) and of course two other Australians – Annie and Fiona from Melbourne, who were taking a break between their masters degrees and teaching science, maths and health to teenagers. Our Turkish guide Mutlu was from Antakya in Turkey’s east, better known to westerners as Antioch, close to the border with Syria. It is not common to find Turkish people who speak English fluently and Mutlu’s English was by far the best we had encountered in Turkey – and I am sure much better than my few words of badly pronounced Turkish. The first word I sensibly learnt was teşekkürler (thank you), the second inshallah (an Arabic word that means god willing).

After our quick introduction and the filling out of paperwork (always tedious) we arranged to meet for dinner and TC and I returned to our room for a quick freshen up. When we arrived downstairs, one of our tour members had collapsed and was being taken to hospital by our guide. The rest of us went out to eat – I had doner kebab which came with salad, pickled veges and rice (not bread). There was, however, a plentiful supply of puffed bread which is best described as the Turkish bread we know puffed full of air and then baked to be slightly crispy. It was a favourite in Istanbul restaurants. There was Efes beer flowing aplenty but it’s not really a topple I enjoy so I abstained in favour of a plentiful supply of bottled water. After dinner it was off to bed with a 7.30am wakeup call to prepare us for breakfast and our tour of Istanbul. [Sister Havana – Urge Overkill – these guys remind me of my first Big Day Out in ’94, part of a massive lineup – I went to see The Ramones before they split and came home with a mammoth new playlist. I saw their latest incarnation a few years ago and they had lost nothing.]

Filed under: 3. Istanbul ]]> http://tracytraveller.wordpress.com/2011/10/03/were-not-in-kansas-anymore/feed/ 0 tracytraveller 1 Ankara day two 032 1 Ankara day two 056 1 Istanbul 041 1 Istanbul 108 1. 1. Ankara day two 037 1. Istanbul 064 1. Istanbul 073 1. Istanbul 096 1. Istanbul 112 1.Ankara day two 039 1.Istanbul 097 http://tracytraveller.wordpress.com/2011/10/03/this-is-the-story-of-a-man-named-attaturk/ http://tracytraveller.wordpress.com/2011/10/03/this-is-the-story-of-a-man-named-attaturk/#comments Mon, 03 Oct 2011 00:24:22 +0000 tracytraveller http://tracytraveller.wordpress.com/?p=957 ]]>

Our third day in Ankara started lazily. We got up slowly. Did some domestic chores like the washing, enjoyed a rather Australian breakfast of vegemite toast and tea. G loaded us up with directions for the taksi driver and we headed out on our ow.. our first trip was to Anits Kabir, the museum that houses the tomb of Attaturk. Our limited explanation for the taksi driver actually got us there fairly easily. We had become accustomed to being screened when we went well pretty much anywhere. As a military building, that was always going to be the case at Anits Kabir. As we wandered up towards the museum we noticed the signs about what you can and can’t do , including not being able to picnic in the grounds. The museum itself is a big parade ground surrounded by the museum with a huge, mausoleum at one end. The museum contained Attaturk’s clothes, swords, pipes, books, jewels, cars and even his boat. There were plenty of paintings showing Attaturk commanding his troops in about three wars including the Gallipoli war. It was interesting to hear the Turkish version of of that conflict. Apparently the Turkish troops left the front and Attaturk asked them why they were retreating and they said they had run out of ammunition. He told them to go back to the front and use their bodies to defend themselves. Essentially it’s all Attaturk, all the time. Turkey has national service which all men have to undertake. One of the jobs is guarding the mausoleum. There are guards at attention everywhere – they look like the mime artists who pose as statues and nothing fazes them – including the Japanese (or sometimes Turkish) tourists standing next to them to get a photo. For winter (it snows in Ankara) they have glass boxes to keep them away from the elements while they do their statue impersonation.
Our next stop was back at the jewellery shop we had visited the day before to pick up my ring. Resized in 24 hours and it was beautiful. Mission accomplished, we took a stroll down the street, and visited Flamingo, and infamous pastry store where we selected a range of small biscuits. It turns out you pay for them by the kilo rather than individually so when we said we wanted two of each, we actually received 200 grams of each one. And we pretty much chose the most boring selection we could have – one had a slight cheese flavor but the rest were pretty plain. Further down the street we found the made in Turkey store our hosts had directed us to. No fat clothes of course but we did manage to find some really cheap underwear that will no doubt come in handy while we zip around Turkey on our tour.
One of the most curious things about Ankara is that you can get everything home delivered, including McDonalds. Here the small mopeds that you see bringing pizza or Chinese takeaway in American movies are plastered with McDonalds ads. It’s also a wonder the city isn’t full of really obese people – you don’t see anyone cycling or jogging either.
G had suggested a bright orange kebab shop along the shopping strip as a possible lunch destination for us. We went in and prepared to order. This was new territory as up until this point we had a Turkish speaking guide or written instructions for the taxi driver. TC sat for a while to survey how the system worked. I have to admit I get a bit lazy travelling with TC and get him to try and work out what to do or who to approach. In this case I told myself that in Turkey, the staff are more likely to look to the man. This was true in some limited circumstances but really I didn’t do it because I didn’t have to. After a few minutes of surveying the situation, TC had it sussed. You go and give your order to one guy, then a second will serve you. Except that there is a third server if you want a kebab. Apparently this is how you keep as many people employed as possible. Our order kept a few people busy as TC had a kebab and I had kumpir- a baked potato with cheese and all sorts of condiments on top including corn, pickled vegetables, meat (turkey ham) and traditionally topped off with tomato sauce and mayonnaise. I passed on the tomato sauce but it was delicious. The assembly process was worth watching- they scoop the cooked potato out and then whip it with cheese until the cheese melts and is thoroughly combined with the potato. Of course when we left the orange takeaway, we realised we had dined at the wrong establishment. The recommended orange kebab place was a block further up the road. [Let’s Face It – The Mighty Mighty Bosstones – While we are in Turkey two of my fave bands – the Bosstones and the Dropkick Murphys who hail from Boston will play at Fenway Park, home of the Boston Redsox. If it wasn’t for our Turkey odyssey… Of course TC said the same about the Rugby World Cup.]

Our hunger satisfied, it was time to think about dinner- We wandered back to Flamingo and picked up a box of baklava for dessert and then headed for the butcher (well the poultry purveyor at any rate) and picked up a stack of chicken schnitzels, a favourite meal at Chez G&S by all accounts. We used the previous day’s taksi instructions to get us home and spent the rest of the day relaxing, chatting with G&S and getting packed for our early morning departure. We enjoyed a feast of chicken schnitzel and chips with G,S and their elder daughter Ms. L, who had been sick with the flu during most of our visit. Chez G&S is set up in such a way that Little Miss K has her own activities space so she ate dinner watching a brand new DVD rather than have to listen to the adults waffle on. After dinner we enjoyed the baklava and a magnificent chocolate chick pea cake prepared by our gregarious host. Once again tired at about 9.30pm, we headed to bed to prepare for our early morning departure.

Our second full day in Ankara began with a Turkish breakfast kindly prepared by G. Fresh tomato, cucumber, white cheese, beef salami (and a bit of a German bent with pork based salami from Adelaide’s central market), boiled eggs, fresh  bread and honey. It was delicious. TC, G, Little Miss K  and I were joined on today’s adventure by G’s British friend Tony, as we strolled down the hill towards Ankara’s version of Double Bay (well as close as it gets anyway – it has a Marks & Spencer). Our first stop was a framing shop where G dropped of a load of stuff for framing which costs a miniscule amount compared to Australia. After that we headed towards the shopping strip for a coffe at Mado, a chain in Ankara (and possibly futher afield in Turkey. My latte came with a sweet that tasted like it had spinach and something similar to mung beans in it, and a vase of daisies. TC had some chocolate profieroles and Little Miss K hads chocolate ice cream which she proudly ordered herself.

After a pleasant coffee, we wandered up to our first shopping mall. In Turkey you have to be security screened to enter just about anywhere, including shopping malls. After we passed the screening point, TC went off to look at the price of electronics , G went to a phone store and then we all headed around to a jewellery store run by a friend of G’s where I looked at a cute amethyst and glass pendant and spectacular silver ring, which was a bit too small. G’s friend measured my ring finger and said she could have one that fits there the following day. [Perfect Government – NOFX – one of their overtly political efforts – I remember listening to this song at a friend’s place after going out to shows. When we did a requesrt round, it was always my pick.]

We wandered further down the street and grabbed a cab to head into Kizaly, one of the big shopping districts where you can find pretty much anything. First stop was G’s leather bag man who was located up a few flights of stairs in what one presumes used to be a private apartment– she stopped off to pick up a couple of bags. Our next stop was lunch at one of Turkey’s oldest restaurants where they served home-style cooking. You go up and choose what you want from a selection of bain maries and they bring it to your table – I chose lamb, creamed mashed potatoes and the spinach dish G had served on our first night. TC was a bit skeptical at first as he had been craving a kebap but eventually had the same as me. My only regret was not choosing the traditional buttered rice. Lunch was followed, of course, by tea

Our next destination was a fabric shop. It was a treasure trove and really cheap too. Conscious of the fact I still had quite a bit of travelling to do, I limited myself to one purchase – some gorgeous embroidered cotton which cost about A$2 per metre. I could have comfortably purchased my weight in fabric in this store but will wait until after our tour.  The cheap crappy sewing machine is going to have to go when we get home.

After the fabric store it was off for what I consider to be another quintessential travel experience – the supermarket. There are a few oddities – a huge cheese counter that mostly stocks different types of white cheese – feta, goats cheese etc with an occasional flash of blue vein. Of course the cold meat section is all beef or chicken – no ham here. There’s lots of fresh in season fruit and no tampons. That’s right ladies, come prepared. We picked up the supplies for dinner – to make a pasta Bolognese and salad and headed home as Little Miss K was by this time a little bit exhausted.

After a short sojourn, TC and I decided to head back to Kizaly on our own for a bit more of a look around. With some handwritten instructions for the taksi driver from G’s Turkish house cleaner, we jumped in a taksi and headed back to Kizaly. First stop was the toy shop hidden inside the walkway across the main thoroughfare. TC was amazed to find incredibly realistic plastic guns, which are well and truly banned at home. It was also easy to buy a real gun and there were plenty of them on the street in the hands of the Turkish soldiers that guarded almost everything.

After a few more electronic shops, TC once again declared Turkey ridiculously expensive for electronics, and we only went into about  one or two more after that. Shoes, however, were a different matter. Somehow we managed to stumble upon shoe row, which TC was really reasonable about. I was tempted a couple of times and too down the name of a store, I think is probably a chain so I can search out their wares in Istanbul.

We wandered a bit further and found some jewellery shops selling mostly mainstream jewellery – diamonds and gold and the like. TC also discovered some police stores selling uniforms and capsicum spray. We hoped that police officers needed to prove they were police officers to buy them but in Turkey, anything is possible. After a bit more of a wander, we decided to head back to G’s. We realized there wasn’t much beer so TC and I wandered up to the local supermarket and stocked up on beer and chips.

We enjoyed yet another home cooked meal on the rooftop terrace – this time Bolognese pasta, a fresh salad of lettuce and tomatoes. Tomatoes in Turkey are exquisite – rich plump and red, like the ones that come out of your garden at home and the cucumbers are fresh, crisp and flavourful. As it was Friday night and the end of their working week, a few drinks were consumed including a caparhina, made with bottled lime juice and lots of cacasa. I had noticed piles of what I imagined were limes at the markets but they were actually very small oranges. Limes are almost impossible to find in Turkey. After dinner we chilled out with G&S and chatted before hitting the sack ready for another relaxing day in Ankara.

After being awoken at dawn by the call to prayer, we managed to stay in bed a little longer to get over the jet lag. When you hear the call to prayer from the loud speakers attached to the minarets on mosques, you know you are in Turkey. The call to prayer comes five times a day and every mosque, no matter how small has an ornate minaret.

Our first day exploring Ankara began with a quick breakfast of bread with the local version of peanut butter, which is incredibly sweet and then we hopped in a Taksi (taxi) with G to visit her carpet man, Mehmet. Taksi is a cheap and easy way to get around hilly Ankara – pretty much every taksi we got cost us less than 10TL (A$6). None of the drivers spoke English but G was able to get us where we wanted to go with ease. There are ranks everywhere, including just around the corner from G and at ranks and other places there are yellow buttons you press to call a cab. After a short taksi trip downtown we arrived at the hotel Mehmet was using as his carpet showroom. When we arrived Mehmet was having breakfast, a Van breakfast, from the region he comes from which included a range of different things including a bolied egg  and a number of other interesting looking things that looked like they were actually ingredients to cook with. Mehmet offered for us to try some – it was good but hard to describe – perhaps lightly fried grains of some kind. He also offered us tea. Business in Turkey revolves around tea and G had already schooled us in the etiquette of tea. Essentially if people ioffer you tea, acceopt, it is rude not top and is part of the way transactions are done. We were introduced to the hotel’s manager, a relative of Mehmet’s and TC asked if he could get some baklava. They had none in the hotel but sent out to get it for us. G was Mehmet’s guest and we were her friends so we were treated wonderfully.

Buying a carpet is widely recognized as one of the quintessential Turkish experiences and the salesmanship is a huge part of the experience. After Mehmet had finished his breakfast we went into the carpet room, where we were brought more tea and two large plates of baklava. The tea here is served in tulip glasses with a couple of sugar cubes. The apple tea is particularly good. The carpet buying is a lengthy process so if you intend on buying one, put some time aside.  Mehmet had a stack of probably 40 carpets and he pulls out each one, lays it on the floor and tells you where its from and a bit about the age and quality of each one. Some of them were extraordinarily old.  There are carpets (with the tufts that we normally associate with carpet, kilims which are weaved flat and often lighter, and prayers rugs, which can either be carpets or prayer rugs. As Mehmet pulled the carpets out we put aside the ones we might like to consider. G had a list of carpet sizes for her sister-in-law with instructions not to get anything green – which turned out to be challenging as green means luck in Islam. We weren’t intending to buy a carpet but as Mehmet showed a prayer rug with rich red tones, we put that in our pile and then another one – this time with brown and blue tones. After all the carpets had been gone through, Mehmet re-showed them quickly as he packed the unwanted ones away. Then it was decision time. TC photographed the ones for G while mehmet measured them and then it was our turn to choose whether to buy a carpet and which one to buy. I was a little bit too eager (as I usually am when I decide I want to buy something) so I let TC do the negotiating. In the end we paid US$250 (originally US$450) For some reason in Ankara (and I suspect a lot of Turkey) expensive things are priced in USD while everyday items are priced in Turkish Lira (TL). You can pay in TL though, which is what we did for our carpet. Carpet shopping done, and G’s perfect record of getting everyone to buy a carpet intact, we took a taksi home to send the carpet pics to Australia before we headed out for the afternoon. [ Too Drunk to Drive- Bodyjar – from their pop punk register rather the hard core stuff but still fun nonetheless]

With Little Miss K, G’s young daughter, in tow we headed out to the Carle, a castle that sits high atop Istanbul. We grabbed another cab. Cabs in Turkey don’t often have working seatbelts so we made sure Little Miss K was wedged between us. First stop was Ankara Gar, the train station, so we could collect the tickets to Istanbul staff in our co-host S’s office had helpfully arranged. Finding where to go and how to collect them proved a challenge  but eventually we found the right window and after we got through what was a short and ordered queue by Turkish standards, we succeeded in getting the tickets. We hads left TC and Little Miss K with the cab driver so they were a little bit hot by the time we got back.

It was then onto the Carle. Unfortunately we couldn’t drive to the top because they were ripping up the road. In Turkey they don’t believe in fencing off big holes in the ground so walking anywhere near roadworks is a perilous task. We negotiated our way around the roadworks and headed up to the Carle, past the souvenir shops, touts and gypsies selling jewellery, handmade children’s clothes and exceedingly faded postcards. Little Miss K showed us the way up the stairs and helpfully pointed out that the Turks weren’t very good at railings. We climbed to the top and watched as TC walked out to the edge to take some shots of the city below. It really was a great view of Ankara.

As you walk down the cobbled lanes on the other side of the Carle, there are jewellery, antique and carpet stores lining the route. We stopped by one, another fave haunt of G’s where she went to pick up and pay for a lamp. There was more tea served, some gifts for little Miss K, including a bell and TC bought me an amber and quartz ring with Arabic script on the stone.  We wandered down the hill into one of the budget market places of Istanbul, shopping amongst fully scarved and frocked Turkish women selling low quality clothes, haberdashery and bridal wear, mostly made entirely from nylon. Some of the bridal outfits would rival Big Fat Gypsy Weddings gear. There were also loads of children selling simit , a kind of bread ring, kind of like a French stick but a quarter of the thickness fashioned into a ring  and baked for longer. You get about two for 1 TL (60c). Bottled water costs about the same.[Bar room Hero – Dropkick Murphys – one of my fave drinking songs – will incite dancing at any time.]

Eventually we wound up at the produce market at the bottom of the hill where all manner of things were available, including roasted sheep heads and heaps of fresh fish. The Turks aren’t keen on a low fat diet so you can actually purchase big slabs of fat. TC sought out some black olives and G bought a big slab of beef to roast and some salad vegetables to have with it. We grabbed another cab and headed home after our big day out in Istanbul. It was fabulous just to chill out in the afternoon on the rooftop deck at Casa G&S. In the evening, we enjoyed a delicious meal of roast beef, fresh salad and potato bake. We sat around and chatted for a while before I promptly fell asleep in front of the telly at about 8pm when g suggested I go to bed. I really do need a mother wherever I am.

After that it was time to board so we went to the gate to wait with our fellow passengers to board our flight to Istanbul. There were a number of Japanese girls with very short shorts and Etihad blankets wrapped around them as skirts, one imagines at the request of the airline. We took a bus to our (black) plane which had been sitting on the tarmac for some time and prepared to swelter. I had never seen an air hostess sweat before but there was a French hostie on our flight literally dripping it was so hot. We were sitting next to a guy whom we presumed was Indian and discovered at the end of the flight, he was actually from Sydney and was going to study in Ankara for six months. The meal on the flight wasn’t bad. ITandoori chicken on pasta salad, spinach and potato pie and a cardamom flavoured mousse cake. The most interesting part was the route we took. We flew directly over Iraq. Seeing Baghdad from the air was quite surreal.[Feel the Pain – Dinosaur Jr – one of the 90s tunes I loved. Saw these guys at UC about five years ago and it was well worth the effort.]

Hot and bothered was definitely not the right way to arrive at Attaturk International Airport in Istanbul. After the ridiculously organized and efficient Abu Dhabi airport, entry into Turkey was a nightmare. First you have to queue to pay for your visa, then you have to line up to go through the immigration gates. The visa took about 10 minutes of queuing and we thought we could slip quietly into the near empty gate next to us. Except that it was reserved for Iraqi citizens only. We then wandered up to the main immigration gates which were divided in two – Turkish citizens and others. The others gate resembled the security screening gate at LAX that weaves back and forth so far it snakes out the door.  Waiting in this line, we came across four more Australians – this time from Brisbane on their way to Tel Aviv. Eventually just as we got near the front of the line, the airport staff decided we could go throough the Turkish citizens gate. We breezed through and headed off to find our bags. After collecting them we headed over to the domestic terminal, checked in at the kiosk and dropped our bags. On (very good) advice from our hosts in Ankara, we had left quite a lot of time between our flights. We headed through the security scanner. Security scanners are really sensitive in Turkey. The underwire in my bra set it off and I got thoroughly patted down. After that little embarrassment, we wandered around the terminal and sat down for a coffee in a Starbucks (for shame). Then a bit more of a wander and a sizable beer for TC – about 800mls of Efes.  Eventually it was time to depart, again on a bus to the plane. The flight to Ankara was half empty, the way you might expect a 3pm flight to Canberra to be, so TC and I had a chance to spread out a bit. The plane food included a sandwich, a salad and some cheese and crackers. The flight took us down lower than the flight to Istanbul but was basically the same route we had flown earlier that day.

We arrived in Ankara overtired and feeling in desperate need of a shower. And then came the drama. When we arrived, we got directed to the International terminal where after a few minutes it became apparent was not where our bags had arrived. The girl in the airport sent us up to the domestic arrivals hall but the guys there wouldn’t let us in. TC spied my name on a placard held by the driver our hostess G had arranged. (I’ve always wanted to be picked up from the airport by someone holding a placard with my name). The driver was really helpful and basically wouldn’t take no for an answer from the airport staff. Eventually they let us in to go to the lost luggage office. TC was more on the ball than me and spied our bags on a carousel in the distance – saved. The driver got us to Casa G&S safely and our hosts greeted us warmly, and showed us our room in their two-floor, four bathroom luxury apartment and then served us a magnificent Turkish feast of Ispanak Etli, a traditional meat and spinach dish, zuchinnis stuffed with lamb mince and peppers stuffed with rice. A few glasses of wine, some pleasant conversation, some planning for the day ahead, and a little bit of cable TV and it was time for bed. [Deanna – Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds – regular readers will recognize this song but it is one of my Nick Cave faves]

Refreshed, we headed to the lobby of the hotel to wait for our Arabian Adventures Tour guide to arrive and then climbed into the air conditioned four wheel drive that would ferry us around for the next few hours. Apparently the tour company had been trying to get into contact for the past couple of days to delay our pickup time. With a bit of time to spare, the guide drove us to a few local sites including the huge mosque designed to fit 40,000 people and the hotel. There were only two other people on the tour – a couple from Sydney – and once they were safely on board, we headed out towards the desert. Our tour guide was from Syria and told us quite a bit about the political history of his country on the drive (partly because I asked quite a lot of questions). After half an hour or so we went off road into the dunes and got scared witless as our guide drove up and over the dunes and then slid sideways back down them. The desert is beautiful in the afternoon, at twilight and at sunset. We got the chance to take photos, visit a camel farm and then take a ride on a camel. Albeit a short one.

Just in case you were wondering, camels actually bite. Apparently the farmed females are quite tame and you can pat them but the males can become quite vicious, something a couple of our touring party almost found out the hard way when the male camel got a bit cranky. After the camel farm we drove to our desert camp where we would have dinner that evening. We crossed a truck road, which had a 24 hr stream of trucks heading into Abu Dhabi. It hadn’t occurred to us that we really hadn’t seen any trucks on the 140km and hour freeway. It’s because in Abu Dhabi there are dedicated truck highways. How much easier would that make a trip up the Hume?

Our short camel ride took place at the camp. The camel seemed a bit cranky actually and I wasn’t sure he was actually going to stand up at one point. He did and really it was just like riding a tall horse. After our ride we were greeted with local coffee, flavoured with cardamon which seems to be a favourite in the UAE, and dates which we were surprised we hadn’t seen yet. We sat on the Bedouin cushions and chatted while our guide prepared our barbecue dinner which consisted of two dips – lets call them babganoush and hummus, a number of salads with chick peas, greens, and pickled vegetables, turmeric rice, beef, lamb and chicken kebabs and fresh fruit salad. It was accompanied by a selection of non-alcoholic drinks. After dinner we sat and had a sheesha pipe, filled with apple tobacco. My years of smoking had stood me in good stead as I was the only one wo didn’t cough up a lung. Not that the apple tobacco induced a coughing fit- it was the smoothest smoking experience I had ever had. And despite our guide warning us it was 10 times stronger than normal cigarettes, I haven’t been tempted to re-indulge.

After our sheesha experience, our guide drove us back to town (via the truck road and then the highway) He seemed a bit cranky but given the impromptu tour he had given us earlier, TC gave him a tip. We were exhausted by then and went straight upstairs to bed.

Finally, after months of planning we were relaxing in the Qantas Club, toasting our holiday, and awaiting the first leg of our middle eastern jaunt. The short hop to Sydney went smoothly and with my inbuilt redundancy scheme to make sure a cancelled flight couldn’t hurt us, TC and I had plenty of time to head into the city and purchase the boys toy (a laptop/tablet) he had coveted for some time. After a short panic that a series of missed calls on my phone may have been an escaped fur child (it wasn’t), we collected the laptop and free (large) monitor and headed back to Sydney airport. Then we had to find something to do with the monitor. Storing it would have cost almost what it was worth and just ditching it would likely have caused a security incident. Fortunately Australia Post is open late and would deliver for about $15.

Last time we were airside at Sydney’s international terminal it was being refurbished so there wasn’t many dining options other than Maccas or Subway. This time there were many so we had a (very late) lunch of Beef Fillet Ramen while we waited to board our Etihad flight to Abu Dhabi. Etihad international economy is not designed for the tall. TC had to sit with his legs apart to be comfortable. While the entertainment box presented enough choice so you didn’t get bored, I was close to running out of options by the time we landed. The service, though, was friendly, the restrooms cleaner than any other plane I had been on, the seats comfortable with decent lumber support and the meals good. For dinner we had a dolmade and salad, pasta with tomato and parmesan, bread, an apple crumble style desert, a chocolate muffin and (semi) proper coffee. Breakfast was an omelet, mushrooms, tomato and spinach, yoghurt, fruit salad, bread and juice.

After 14 long hours (most of it at night over the ocean), we arrived in Abu Dhabi at 6am where the local temperature was about 40 degrees. Abu Dhabi is an easy airport, despite the fact that you have to get security screened when you arrive. Customs is just a walk through if you have nothing to declare and immigration was a quick stamp with no queues. While we were deciding what to do next, a tout approached TC and we agreed to go with him. I had a few concerns when he started walking away quickly with all our gear.  - Our gear made it to the hotel safe and sound but it was a miracle we did. The speed limit in lots of the UAE is 140 km an hour. That wouldn’t be quite as bad if they stayed more than 10 cm from the car in front. After hurtling down the highway at break neck speed, we arrived at our hotel, the Intercontinental Abu Dhabi, and the blast of heat as we opened the taxi door was overwhelming. We headed straight into the expansive, cool lobby and checked in. Recognising we would likely be completely ruined after the 14 Hour flight, we had booked two nights of accommodation which allowed us to check in immediately, have a shower and snooze for a couple of hours. The staff were fabulous. They couldn’t have been more helpful or courteous. Our electricity wasn’t working and was fixed within minutes. As they could tell our visit was for leisure not business (the T-shirts, jeans and backpacks were a bit of a giveaway), they had given us a room with a beach/pool view. The room was fabulous – a big shower with rain shower head and handheld, a separate toilet (with bidet) and an impressive mini-bar (which we left alone). [Army of Me – Bjork - I discovered her hushed tones and belting voice at my first Big Day Out (hers too I think). What we knew about Iceland before the GFC and volcano]

My snoozing was rudely interrupted by my ringing phone. It was Qantas, checking because my Qantas Club card was returned to them as undeliverable. If they checked their records they would see it was the first of three cards they sent to me because they kept getting lost! I surmised that the series of messages on my phone the previous day were probably from them. We decided it might be an appropriate time to get up and go explore Abu Dhabi. We went downstairs and while waiting for  the hotel’s shuttle bus to the Marina Mall, had a coffee in the café in the lobby, which was a great people watching opportunity.  So far in our travels we hadn’t encountered many local Emiratees, apart from those on the Immigration desk at the airport. The tout was probably Bangladeshi, the check in staff Eastern European, the head concierge Chinese, and the porters Indian. There were a few Emiratees taking coffee or tea in the café, or having business meetings with Europeans. There was a real mix of dress codes too – from British people in holiday wear to Europeans in business suits and a few Emiratees, mostly men, in traditional dress.

We arrived at the mall in air conditioned comfort. There were some great views of the city from the mall but in the overwhelming heat, we were keen to go inside. No wonder shopping is one of the Emiratees’ favourite pastimes. And this is where all the locals were. Groups of men wandered around the mall in traditional dress as well as groups of women, many with children, also in traditional dress. There were different levels of dress too. The traditional black robe that we rarely see at home was everywhere but it was really just a black linen coat, often with brightly patterned maxi skirts peeking out. There were varieties of headdress too. These ranged from a head scarf to the veil which reveals only the eyes to a full black head covering. Whether just the veil or the full head covering, most women were heavily made up. While we were sitting in the hotel lobby, a young woman wearing a full veil flipped it up to use a mobile phone, revealing rich red lipstick and heavily made-up eyes.

We wandered around the mall which contained some familiar stores such as Top Shop, Zara, Bally and Armani along with some less recognizable ones. We decided to stop for lunch and while looking a Filipin o café spruiker convinced us to sit in a little takeaway outlet. The other customers included a range of Emiratees and English tourist included an older couple with poorly designed and executed tattoos.  We ordered burgers which came with turkey bacon and were not very tasty. We also had a coke each. I went to open it and thought I had broken the top. On closer inspection it turned out to be an old skool ring pull – something I hadn’t seen for the past 20 years or so. The can also featured the coke ribbon complete with Arabic script. We sat looking over the mall ice rink while the kids skated around.

After lunch we took a bit more of a stroll around the mall, past the under construction indoor ski slope, complete with windows where other shoppers will be able to observe your snow plants. We saw expensive watches, interesting shoes that I didn’t dare ask the price of, and some expensive electronics equipment. TC bought a computer game and we headed back to the hotel for a dip in the pool. We enjoyed a drink at the swim up bar and I’m sure annoyed all the Brits and Germans in the pool who just wanted to sit on the edge by swimming about under water. The water temperature was reasonable but we needed shoes – the concrete was really, really hot. [Come as You Are – Nirvana – a fabulous track off a fabulous album. I was a latecomer but my tape of Nirvana got a good workout driving around in my Suzuki Alto in the mid nineties.]

We headed out from Hay and after passing
more vineyards and orchards passed the turns to Griffith and Leeton, which
meant home wasn’t far away. This area of western NSW was familiar to us – we
had ventured out here for day trips. And the two afore-mentioned towns were
designed by a little known American town planner – Walter Burley Griffin., the
planner of our own little hamlet. We have a lake named after him. They have a
highway. We followed the Murumbidgee and its plentiful residual flooding. In
fact our entire journey through the Riverina – Murray from Mildura had featured
intermittent riverside and in some case roadside flooding.

We left the highway at Nerrandera to get a
pic of the Big Guitar. Housed in the town’s tourist centre, our last attempt to
photograph it was hampered by its position in the back room as well as the
glare from the glass. Being the middle of a weekday, we thought it would be the
perfect opportunity. Of course I couldn’t resist a few more local produce treats
– I picked up some delicious homemade Worcestershire sauce as well as some
spectacular chocolate bullets, from the chocolate company in Leeton.

We left Nerrandera and headed east to Wagga
Wagga. On our way in, I spied a model shop. A quick trip around the block and
TC took a quick look. Then we ventured past another of TC’s favourite things –
a mini tank on the side of the road. A quick search for second hand stores and
TC was in his element, checking for bargains. We made our way up towards the
train station end of town, a familiar scene to me. I had travelled to Wagga
quite a few times in years past to visit friends and had slept in the train
station on more than one occasion. I look for a bit more comfort these days
(and have enough cash to at least shell out for a room in a pub.  TC found a toy shop from his youth and then
another couple of pawn shops. Quite predictably, I found the most expensive
pair of shoes I had seen since I ventured into the boutiques of NYC or London.
Old worldly and spectacular, they were simply beautiful. A kind of 19^th
century lace-up boot with pretty bows. But at more than $3200 and after my
extreme shopping pursuits in village after village, I decided they were best
left in the store. We couldn’t find anything we really felt like for lunch but after
some wandering slipped into a pie shop that declared they served the best ever
pies. A claim we come across at almost every pie shop we find. In this
instance, however, it was an accurate assessment. We were just going to have a
simple pie for lunch but couldn’t help ourselves from sampling the sweet pies
as well. [Shelter – Xavier Rudd – This album (Solace) was on high rotation in
my CD player when I lived in Kiama and came back to town each fortnight – a great
blues and roots number complete with stomp box].

With full bellies and tired heads, we
headed east until we hit the familiarity of the Hume highway , then the
Highway, and finally our front door. Home sweet home with a delectable bounty
and for the first time ever no shoes (pity about the model kits).

Model shops and pawn shops – 10, Big Things
– 14

We packed up early and bid farewell to
Adelaide. We had a long journey ahead of us – Adelaide to Hay. Our first stop
was for breakfast. We thought Nurioopta would be a good choice. It was Sunday
right. The Barossa would be filled with tourists, ready to partake of a hearty
German breakfast or at the very least enjoy some fresh German baked goods. Apparently
not. The thriving metropolis of Nurioopta, quick to turn on the charm and overflowing
with produce only a few days ago, was virtually shut down. Our hearty traveler’s
breakfast had quickly turned into a bacon and egg roll from the local takeaway.
It was OK but wasn’t quite what I had in mind. And a dare, even an espresso
dare is no substitute for proper coffee.

We left the Barossa, heading out on the
highway through South Australia’s riverland and our next destination, The Big
orange. All the guide books and websites suggest a magnificent example of a big
thing with three floors, a gift shop, a conference centre and a viewing platform.
We left the main freeway through the region and headed towards the home of the
orange at Berri, funnily enough home of a berry warehouse outlet. Unable to
spot the orange as we drove toward town, a frantic internet search confirmed my
worst fears. The orange had been sold some years ago to a developer. There were
musings about moving it north to join some other Big Thing relics. And then
hope – a local had decided to purchase it and bring it back to life. We decided
the best tack was to visit the town’s tourist bureau and ask. They were very
helpful and even gave us a map. Alas they also confirmed the orange was
non-operational, purchased by local landholders for the water rights that
accompanied it. .  The orange was,
however, still there, if only behind a padlocked gate. We visited the orange
and although much larger than the portable juice bars it resembled, it was hard
to believe it could house three levels – and the functions centre must have
been pretty small. [Suck my Kiss – Red Hot Chili Peppers – vintage Red Hot
Chili Peppers – reminds me of the early 90-s, probably even more than Nirvana.
I think everyone I know owned this album.]

After leaving Berri, we rejoined the
freeway and not long after crossed the border and arrived at Mildura. The
flooding we had encountered at Swan Hill had made its way downstream and
combined with heavy rain the night before, the outskirts of Mildura were
flooded. It was an unusual picture driving through rows of vineyard that almost
looked as if they had been planted in a riverbed. From the outskirts of town we
headed into the centre and it was easy to tell Mildura was a crossroads where
highways and rivers met. It was a western NSW town on steroids – wide streets,
lined with hundreds of cheap motels. Old school 70s style motels with neon vacancy
lights and swimming pools. It’s clear it’s a town where travelers and truckers
stop for respite and where travel is the main industry. We pulled into town and
found a pub restaurant with an Italian menu that was still willing to serve
lunch. It was about 3 or 4pm by now. We rang the motel in Hay and let them know
we were likely to arrive late. They agreed to leave the room open for us.

As we headed out of Mildura, there was time
for just one more big thing. Like the big wine bottle in Rutherglen, the Big
Wine Cask was a recycled big thing, taking an existing object, in this case a
square concrete building, and adding something (an oversized tap).  Alas though, we took the wrong road out of
town and missed it. Next time I guess. We could have gone back but by that
stage we were just keen to make it to Hay.

We left Mildura and headed out along the
Hay Plains. Friends of ours had commented that the Hay Plains were, well plain
but for us they were one of the more interesting parts of the trip. The big
skies went on forever, the open plains made for a much wider vista than the Mallee
scrub which was a feature of so much of our journey. And the plains came alive
with wildlife and plants following the recent flooding rains (with apologies to
Dorothy Parker).

We stopped just before sunset at a roadside
amenities stop to enjoy the spectacle. Between us we must have taken 1000
photographs but it was well worth it. The expansive sky had just enough cloud
cover to produce some vibrant results. It was one of the most spectacular
sunsets I had seen in some time. As the light faded, we hit the road, heading past
Balranald and directly for the motel. We put in our breakfast order and turned
in for the night. The refurbished hotel was very comfortable and featured one
of my favourite things – a sizable shower. Not sure when the current obsession
with brown and grey will stop though. You can’t walk into a refurbished hotel
in this country and find a colour scheme other than brown or slate grey.
Usually the main room is brown with a slate grey bathroom. A little bit of
individuality goes a long way. [Wide Open Road – The Triffids – The Hay Plains
are the ultimate backdrop for this song – well if you haven’t quite made it to
the Nullabor. It invokes travelling in the Australian landscape and I’ts hard
to believe it was recorded in the mid 80s. Easier to believe is that it was produced
by Gil Norton who went on to produce a swag of Throwing Muses and Pixies
albums.]

A yummy breakfast arrived the next morning
on a tray with real plates and napkins. After this hearty meal, we packed up
our bags and headed home.

Model shops and pawn shops – 6, Big Things
– 13

Saturday is always a good sleep in day and being
on holidays is no different. So it was sleep and those annoying admin tasks
like washing. Why is it that it doesn’t matter when you choose to do your
washing in a hotel laundry, someone has commandeered both the washing machines?
In this case the hotel staff to wash the towels! Laundry done, we headed to
breakfast to what claimed to be the original Pancake Parlour.  It was a bit of a ma and pa operation in a
back laneway) but the pancakes were pretty good – I of course went for the
Canadian style (served with eggs here) and TC had a pancake stack.

After breakfast we went to check out a
couple of comic book stores in the area around the hotel. The funny thing about
comic book stores in Adelaide is that they just sell comic books – no
figurines, no games, and no other merch of any kind. We wandered through a few
laneways filled with (closed) vintage stores and had a look through a map shop.
The problem with South Australia is that quite a few of the smaller boutique
stores aren’t open at all on Saturdays and almost none were open in the
afternoon. Almost nothing was open on Sunday. After a short wander we caught a
tram to Adelaide central market, the most impressive market I’d seen since
Barcelona. All the delectable delights we had sampled throughout the Barossa
were there and more. Every third store was a deli with locally produced cheeses
and smallgoods. There were baked goods too, gourmet coffee and, although less
extensive than Barcelona, a range of unusual glace fruits. We mused about
picking up some additional supplies but quickly decided there was no more room
in the car fridge. We left this smallgoods paradise and headed into the wild
lands of Adelaide’s suburbs. TC was in search of a map shop to find his holy
grail – a full set of GPS maps of Australia. He wasn’t too keen on the fact
that my phone had better maps. He estimated that we could get a tram to Glenelg
and hop off on the way to find said map shop. We wandered through the3 Adelaide
suburbs, a leafy area, full of bluestone cottages and wondered about what it
would be like to live in Adelaide and what one of these bluestone cottages
would cost. The answer was less than a house in north Canberra but not by
enough. The cottages, an architectural hallmark of Adelaide’s inner suburbs are
quite spectacular, with loads of character. We meandere3d through streets of
them until we came to what looked like a suburban centre. TC found his map shop
and I wandered along the road to find some op shops and charity stores. While
there were plenty of both I didn’t come across any worthwhile finds. We entered
the local small scale shopping mall and despite signs and two sets of directions,
it took quite a while before we found a bathroom. They were strangely located
in the centre of the mall through a long corridor. Call of nature answered and
we wandered back through the suburbs to the tram stop and waited patiently for
a tram to take us to Glenelg. Well, one of us was patient. We arrived in
Glenelg a little late for the rumoured shopping experience so we took a wander
along the beach to see if we could find a restaurant for dinner that evening. We
had brought swimming attire but it was quite gusty (and surprisingly cool). There
was some light rain too but mostly the problem was the wind. Sadly most of the
restaurants along the promenade faced east towards the marina rather than west
toward the ocean and sunset. Living in the east, we were looking forward to
dinner watching the sun set over the ocean.
Eventually we found one restaurant at the end of the promenade with
outdoor seating overlooking the ocean. Alas, it was a seafood restaurant. Good
for me, not so great for TC. We considered drinks at one of the bars watching
the sunset and then dinner overlooking the marina. It wasn’t quite what we were
after but we were ready to settle. Then we found the cocktail/tapas bar at the
marina. We decided to have some lunch on the main promenade to mull it over. I
had fish and chips which was passable but not spectacular. The best part was
the salad dressing which took advantage of the local vino cotto instead of a
much sharper balsamic. We decided the tapas bar was the best choice. It
appeared to be newly refurbished and they were quite attentive when we agreed
to a booking. We requested a table on the outdoor terrace for sunset viewing
(and quiet) purposes. [Starlings – Elbow. My little sis introduced me to elbow
a few years ago – the grown up sound of Manchester]

After a few hours chilling out in the hotel
– I was blogging as TC snoozed – we got dressed up and headed back to Glenelg
for a tapas extravaganza. We were on holidays and we went crazy – with the
cocktail menu as well as the tapas. Well I went crazy with the cocktail menu. A
couple of capiroskas a few margaritas, a beautiful sunset, and a smorgasbord of
tapas, including a delectable twice cooked pork belly, some stuffed zucchini
flowers , local oysters, chorizo. The standout – the pork belly. The let down –
the local olives. The Murray River offerings were far superior.  After dinner we wandered over to catch the
last tram back to town and we weren’t the only ones. Lots of drunken teenagers,
a hen’s night and assorted other late night crazies were the recipe for a long,
noisy and quite packed journey back to town.

Model shops and pawn shops – 6, Big Things
– 12