Day 90 - Holy Rollers

Today we left Vienna for India. We had originally intended Istanbul to be a ramping up from the extreme European-ness of the rest of our summer itinerary, but with the eight days spent in Vienna, that plan sort of backfired. (Not that we didn't have a terrific time)

H escorted us to the commuter train for the airport. We went off with only the smallest of hitches. As stated before, our water filters consistantly attract attention by the screeners. This time, they looked at them so intently and called over so many people that I was worried we wouldn't be able to take them with us. Eventually the screeners did let us through, and we were off to Istanbul. Again.

We made it into Istanbul without a hitch, and followed signs to the international transfer area. Akbar airport is very nice, and we spent our long layover puttering around the duty-free shops and calling home. Oddly enough, even with the plethora of shops, we could not find one single deck of playing cards. We might be in for some looo-ooong trainrides. Besides shopping and calling, we had some choice people-watching. The airport was FULL of holy men. Most were wearing all white wrap garments (sort of like heavy cotton man saris), plus an African holy man in his embroidered outfit, all escorted by vieled women. Ramadan is starting, but these men weren't fasting - unless brownies don't count as breaking fast. Does anyone know of any really important holy event happening around Istanbul or somewhere that Turkish Air might be flying?

When the time came to board the flight to Delhi, our visas were checked, our tickets stamped, and into the plane we went. It was like a trans-atlantic flight in seat layout, and unfortunately we were stuck in the middle row. Also in our row was a gregarious young Indian man who is part of the couch-surfing network. We may get in touch with him once we are in India if we decide to go to his neighborhood.

We landed in Delhi at 3:30 in the morning. Our book had warned that the arrivals hall would be utter madness at this our because most international flights arrive in the wee small hours, but the baggage claim area was nearly empty. We settled into chairs with our packs, and decided to wait for daylight to venture out into the big, bad world. For that, next post!

Day 82 - Unlisted Holiday

Last night we debated wheter or not to go to bed at all. Reason: Today we had to be up at three in order catch the shuttle to airport for our 7:45 flight to Vienna. We have learned to pack our water filters where they are accessible. Apparently they look like very suspicious large batteries in the x-ray machine. Thank goodness we kept the all instructions and original pamphlets with them, as even visual inspection by the officials and our explanations are often not enough. At nearly every security checkpoint they are taken out and examined, and the accompanying papers read from cover to cover.

All went smoothly until we were on the plane. Whereupon we sat in the plane, at the gate for almost 45 minutes. Then we rolled a little way onto the tarmac. And waited some more. A kid a few rows up from us cried so hysterically that he made himself vomit. This was not an auspicious beginning. It was urgent that we arrive in Vienna on time because the Indian Embassy only take visa applications from 9:30-11:30 AM. We were scheduled to arrive there at 8:55. Allowing an hour for customs and travel from the airport, we had planned to be at the emabassy by 9:55.

At 8:45 I looked at my watch and told Cz that if we left this instant we might still have a chance. Five minutes later we were airborne. The flight was uneventful, and we arrived in Vienna at 9:55. There was a man checking passports as we deplaned. Anyone with a red passport (Turkish) had it opened and checked. We ony had to flash our blue passport to be waved through to the terminal. Unfair I know, but under the circumstances I was grateful. We breezed through the real passport control desks and customs without a hitch. At the terminal entrance, someone was handing out city maps. There were huge, well-marked signs for the express train to the city center. We ran to the train, hopped on, and found the address of the Indian Embassy. We were there with 15 minutes to spare!

It was CLOSED.

For a holiday. For a holiday that the man I had asked on the phone if it would be open didn't know about. We made it with much rushing and with time to spare and it was closed. After the requisite snarling, we headed off to find our hostel.

After a little searching, which happened to take us past St Stephens Dom, we found our way home. It was a very cute place in a converted apartment, convienient to everything. We spent the rest of the afternoon catching up on the blog, contacting friends around the city, and mailing a gift and postcards back to the states. By the time that ws finished, we stopped at the grocery and picked up some groceries.

Little did we know the kitchen only had a microwave. We persevered, and managed to produce a perfectly repectable dinner of pasta and salad. Just in case you were wondering. Here is how to cook spagetti in a microwave.

With the Microwave on high
1. Bring the desired amount of water to a boil.
2. Add the pasta
3. Cook. It will take a total of about 15 minutes after you add the pasta. Stir every 5 minutes or so for even cooking and to prevent baking your pasta to the sides of said bowl.
4. Drain. Add sauce as desired.

We are masters of improvisation here. Tomorrow we have another go at the embassy. Wish us luck!

Day 81 - International Game

Today we had our adventure in The Grand Bazaar. The Bazaar building itself is a warren of shops, stalls, and food vendors all under a series of curved ceilings and painted arches. It is utterly confusing, and large enough to have its own address system. Of course none of this is clearly labled, but half the fun of being there is that feeling of being half lost down Alice´s rabbit hole.

At the shops, haggling is expected. It is part of the game. You must assume that any price quoted to you is approximately 1/3 more than the actual value of the item. Bat your eyelashes, say you really love it, but that you are on a strict budget. Say that perhaps you could afford the price, but that you are traveling, and the cost of shipping it home makes it impossible. Say you only have a little money on you, that your husband is holding the rest and that you can´t ask him for it. Offer and counteroffer until you reach your target. If all else fails, start to walk away. The vendor will usually call after you "What´s your final offer!" Make the offer. If it is within reason (at least 1/3 below the stated cost), you will probably get your item. If not though, be prepared to walk away. Your bluff has been called. Besides, there is sure to be another vendor eager to start the process all over again just a few displays down.

We haggle quite successfully, scoring both a pillowcover, which I intend to put over my daypack, and a gift for friends who got married in June.

Flush with success we stopped for our ubiquitous street food - Turkish pizza and kebabs - and then decided to cool off at one of the ancient cisterns. The one we visited was the newer cistern. It was built in the 6th century to supply the palace and some city fountains. The entrance is an unassuming brick building put up in 1987. Underground though, the scene opens up in cathedral-like proportions. 12 rows of 28 columns each rise out of the water. Each column is topped with Corinthian and Ionic capitals. The ceiling is vaulted brick, and fish - carp, goldfish, and milky-eyed fish used to the dark swim below. All around is the sound of dripping water. Medusa heads, believed to be Helenistic Greek, form the base of two columns near where the water used to ener the cistern. It is blissfully cool and damp under the ground, and the perfect place to spend a hot, hazy afternoon.

Later in the day, while Cz rested, I went to the post office. It turned out to be far too daunting a task - NOTHING was translated. Perhaps if I had arived at a less busy hour I might have asked someone to help me, but I decided that rather than wait in line (a line that may or may not have been the right one) for 20 minutes, to write some postcards and meet up with Aussie girl for some surrepticious shoe-shopping.

We returned home to find the Hostel clerk decked out in full soccer gear. He and a bunch of friends had rented the local pitch, and were invited us to come along and watch. Which is how I found myself in the wedged in the back of a car with Aussie girl and four others picking our way through rush-our traffic to the park. Cz took the train with Aussie Boy and the other players. The team was comprised of Hostel Clerk, several Turkish guys, Aussie Boy, and Canada Boy (another of our posse) and one other hostel guest. They players were all quite good and the non-players cheered equal sides in equal measure. It was a strange moment of feeling both home and far away at once. A local game, with players we knew, but instead of central park as a backdrop, the Bosphorus Sea and lights of Istanbul. I wish we had more time here - there is more I would like to see in Turkey, and the people are just lovely, but our plane wings away for Vienna at 7:45 tomorrow morning, and we should probably be on it.

Day 80 - Kitty City to Dogtown

The Aussies had errands to run in the morning, so Cz and I decided to visit the Blue Mosque on our own. From the outside it is a smooth confection of white stone, each segment swelling smoothly into the next. Inside the arches are all covered in tile, mosaic, and paint depicting swirling floral and graphic patterns. It sits across the courtyard from Haggia Sophia. Yesterday Cz got a great photo of The Blue Mosque from the window of Haggia Sophia. Today it was a view of the Haggia Sophia framed by the arch to the courtyard of the Blue Mosque.

Inside the mosque is considered a holy place. Female visitors are requested to wear a headscarf and long skirt; male visitors to wear long pants. Everyone must remove their shoes before entering the space. I borrowed a scarf from Aussie Girl, and we tried to respect the rules to the best of our ability. We were shocked though at the behaviour of other Americans. They traipsed around as if they owned the place, scarfs tossed over their shoulders, men in shorts, almost all talking loudly as their cameras flashed away. I am not Muslim, but a place of worship is a place of worship whether it is your particular brand or not.

We were in the mosque between calls to prayer. Two workers were calmly vacuuming the carpet. A few worshipers were still praying, kneeling towards Mecca. The workers just pushed the vacuum around them. Haggia Sophia felt almost like a museum. The combination of maintenance men and worshipers gave the Blue Mosque - an architectural marvel to be sure - the feeling of being a real, functioning place.

At noon, we (the Aussies, Cz and I) met at the hostel to head down to the docks to have another go at taking a ferry ride. We arrived at the waterfront around 12:30, with an hour to kill before the next seabus would be heading out. As always, thinking with our stomachs, we stopped for another mackerel sandwich, and then strolled across the bridge the fishstalls, where a man was frying sardines fresh from the water. A group of rickety tables, even more rickety umbrellas, and the requisite cats clustered above the stall. We settled in for our second lunch of sardines with rocket salad and fresh apple tea.

After thoroughly stuffing ourselves, we hopped on the ship. The seabus is like a commuter ferry. We had heard that rather than taking one of the expensive tours, we could take the ferry out to a particular suburb (I have forgotten the name) and cover the same route for a fraction of the cost. The water of the Bosporus is somewhere between cerulean and windsor blue. It is surprisingly clean and clear, and loaded with fish visible just below the surface. On our boat ride we even saw some porpoises leaping near the shore.

On land, the shapes and skylines of Istanbul unfolded behind us. The silhouette is so different from US cities. Coastal cities int he US tend to be vertical geometric affairs - rectangles and cubes cutting up into the sky, with very little reference to shape of the land beneath. In Istanbul the buildings are generally more low-slung, punctuated by the domes and minarets of the mosques, and the occasional palace or tomb, but even these grander structures seem somehow frothy compared to the solid shapes of the west.

The town itself (we thought it was a suburb, but really it´s more like a bedroom community) was on the Asian side of the Bosporus. Even though it was only and hour and a half by water from central Istanbul, it had entirely different feel. For one thing, where Istanbul is ruled by packs of stray cats, this town is marshaled by stray dogs. Most are quite large, but seem to be predominantly shy and friendly - we were never growled at or otherwise threatened by them. The town itself was a riot of colour, sound and smell. It´s a smaller town, but somehow it seemed more full of people all honking their horns, gossiping in doorways, and selling anything from fruit to fishing gear. We stopped in a bakery so Aussie Boy could pick up some sweet cakes. The light coming through the window and the smell of fresh bread combined to make a sense of timelessness, despite the steady stream of cars and buses just outside.

From our shop, we went on to find some apple tea. We drifted toward a cafe near an excited looking crowd, the women all holding silk roses. Turns out there was a wedding next door! The waiters in the cafe spoke no english. Luckily another patron heard us trying to order, and translated. We sipped our tea (best apple tea yet) and craned our necks to watch the crowd just over the tea-shop´s hedge. We never got more than a glimpse of the wedding couple, but thoroughly enjoyed the feeling of celebration.

Then back to the docks for the return ferry to Istanbul. At one point the view was of the landmasses of Asia and Europe practically touching noses across the channel. It´s an almost surreal feeling being at such a cultural crossroads, and one with such deep roots. In Istanbul, one is aware of the Ancient, rather than the merely old. At first, I felt that in Istanbul, the now rubbed shoulders with the then. That may be so, but more accurately, I feel that the then permeates the city. Even the modern shops and ferryboats seem to remember their roots as ancient trading sites and shipping routes. And we, as modern tourists are only mimicking the path of other Europeans, other Asians, other people seeking out adventure, riches, exoticism, etc had trod for centuries.

Day 79 - Istanbul or Constantinople

Travel issues under control-ish, today we devoted almost entirely to being tourists. As stated, Aussie Girl and we share many common interests, including what we would like to visit in in Istanbul. We met up in the morning, and were soon joined by her pal, Aussie Boy, whom she met on the plane and was staying at a different hostel.

Our first stop was unplanned. We were walking towards Haggia Sophia when a bride crossed out path. Then another. And another. And another. A busfull (literally) of brides descended and made a slow circuit of the courtyard, having their photos taken by tourists and wedding guests alike. They were also applauded and cheered by wedding guests and tourists alike, which is as it should be, under the circumstances.

Yesterday, I saw a man with a silver pot on his back in the courtyard. I had no change to buy a glass of whatever was in the pot, so I felt that I couldn't take a picture. He was there again today, and was well aware of his photographic appeal, calling out "Photo, Photo" rather than "Juice, Juice". Even so, he proved a jovial old man, laughing frequently and showing more gums than yellowed theeth. Our photo is well worht the price of a cup of slightly warm cherry juice.

We finally managed to take ourselves into Haggia Sophia. It was first destroyed in 537, and quickly rebuilt. The original building date wasn't given, but if it was first destroyed in the 6th century, one would assume it is circa really old. It is a stunning piece of architecture - domes and arches covered in mosaic, paint and carving looping up and up almost out of the eyes' reach. The carving on the capitals and screens is so delicate, the stone almost looks like lace. The tiles for the mosaics, gold, and silver, and coloured stone are tiny - thumbnail sized - and every single one, even for the solid background colour fields is carefully placed in arches and turms like the whorls of sunflower seeds.

More breathtaking that the shape of the place is its history. Haggia Sophia was originally built as a Catholic church. Over the centuries it has flipped back forth between Mosque and Cathedral. The presence of time and change fills the space between floor and dome, granting even the air molecules a weight of their own.

It is possible to climb the ramps up to the level of the first gallery. The gallery is quite high, but still the central dome soars well above it. The main treat on the gallery level are the views out over the city. Small windows - would they still be clerestory? - look out in every direction to visitas of rooftops, sea, and the Blue Mosque. The windows are set high in the wall, and Aussie Girl and I had to really stretch to see, but it was well worth it.

From Haggia Sophia, we crossed over to the Blue Mosque. Unfortunately we had all forgotten about the strict dress code, and therefore could not enter. We arrived near the call to prayer (so even if we had been appropriately dressed we could not have gone in). Every mosque, including the Blue is equipped with loud speakers to send the prayers out over the city. The time for each is slightly staggered from the other, so it almost sounds like an echo of song traveling from one end of Istanbul to the other. To my ears it is very foreign - this is one of the first moments on the trip that I have truely felt myself in a foreign land. The rest Europe was different than home, but different is different from foreign.

Thwarted in our attempt to visit the mosque, we (Aussie Girl Aussie Boy, Cz and I) hopped on a tram to see if we could catch the commuter ferry along the Bosphorus. No dice, but we were near the Galata Bridge and Galata Tower (both quite famous), so we decided to have a little stroll over the bridge and up to the tower. The bridge practically bristles with fishing poles and fishermen. On either end of it, a jumble of modern and ancient buildings, shanty roofs, and Mosques pile up the hillsides. Near the bridge, there were a host more stalls selling all manner of "street meat". In one stall a man was throwing mackerel fillets on a hot grill. The smell was enough to lure us over, and we each came away with a lovely sandwich of freshly grilled fish, sweet onions and lemon juice.

On the Galata side of the bridge, the hill rises so steeply to the tower that the ascent is made by a series of stairs through the town. We were mapless, and just sort of aimed in the general direction of the tower. It disappeared from view for a little while, and we were concerned that we might be going the wrong direction, but then suddenly the entire vista at the end of a narrow, crooked street was occupied by grey stone. Unfortunately it cost 10 lyra to go to the top of the tower, and none of us were feeling flush enough to pay so much for just a view - especially since we had just paid that same amount to see the whole of Haggia Sophia.

We decided to wander around the neighborhood and find the perfect Turkish Apple Tea. Eventually we found ourselves at an open-air cafe right on the water. Istanbul has a population of 12 million people and just about as many cats. Our table came with its own black and white version. As we sipped out tea, small boys in their undies hopped in and out of the river, work boats chugged by, and local dogs tussled in the grass. The smell in the air was somewhere between saltwater and fish, with undercurrents of diesel fuel and cooking. Not a particularly nice smell, but rich and alive. And a little reminiscent of home - the earthy smells of marsh and working that often permeate the backwaters of the Chesapeake Bay.

We continued our walk along the water to catch our tram home, and everywhere were the cats and fish stalls. The stalls consisted of both newspaper covered racks, and tubs filled with water pumped up from the sea, cycled through the tubs, and back again. The fish were all very fresh, often the ones in the tubs were still swimming. It seemed that they had been netted either from the bridge, or the same boats we had been watching from the cafe. Several of the stalls also contained gas burners or simple grills serving up the freshest seafood imaginable. In between the fish stalls were fruit and nut sellers, and even an old man with a tray of oranges and a juice press. All around people were gossiping over tea, haggling, eating and smoking. It was truly a feast for the senses.

We took a shower and a little rest in the afternoon - we were pretty sweaty and grubby from our ramblings - and then headed out for another dose of street food and night sights. This time we introduced the Aussies to the mussels, and ordered ten each for ourselves. After feasting on shellfish, we ordered apple tea from a strolling hawker, more roasted corn, and a round of kebabs. Happily sated, we went on a quest for a bottle of vodka to mix with some juice we had purchased earlier in the day. The Kebab stall owner took us to a cafe run by his friend. The cafe owner couldn't sell us a bottle, but took us to a liquor stall run by one of his friends. A few lyra and a short walk later, we were back on our very own rooftop terrace sipping coctails, watching the lights of boats, and listening to music from the surrounding cafes. There was even a fireworks display across the water, and heat lightning streaking the sky. Quite a lovely end to quite a lovely day.

Day 78 - (Mis) Adventures in Travel

But first, a beautiful view of the hostel terrace where we had our breakfast overlooking the Maramar Sea which connects to the Bosphorus. It was the only calm and relaxed time we had before undertaking the task at hand.

Now that we have this sorted out - sort of, knock wood, cross fingers, please don't jinx this - we can tell you about it. We were misinformed as to the visa requirements for India. According to our guise, we thought we could pay a small extra fee, and buy our Visa at the airport in Delhi. This is not so. The visa must be purchased ahead of time, preferably at the Indian Embassy in one's home country. The "travel arrangements" which took up all of Wednesday morning were us researching the best way to get an Indian Visa on the road. The Indian Embassy in Vienna, it seemed would be our best best bet, built neither e-mail address nor phone number we pulled from their website connected us to a real person.

We were stymied. We didn't want to make any further moves until we heard from Vienna. Wednesday night, in Istanbul, I remembered that I had the e-mail for American Citizens' Service, through the US Sate Department. The responded within hours with advice, website, and e-mail contact information for the Indian Embassy in Vienna.

This morning, we called Vienna. They felt that, through the wonder of e-mail and fax to the Indian Consulate in NY, they could get our visa approved within 2-4 days of our arrival in Vienna. Again cross fingers, knock wood, please no Jinx, etc. This was the good news. The bad news was that it meant we would need to change our flight out of Vienna. I called Expedia. I got disconnected. I called again. They said that because the itinerary was already en-route that they could not touch the reservation. I spent the rest of the morning and into the afternoon trying 1st just to get Turkish Airlines on the phone, and then trying to change the flight over the phone. Summary of the phone calls: Almost everyone I talked to was very pleasant but we kept getting disconnected. When I finally managed to get all the way through the process, it was discovered that because of regulations, I could NOT in fact change the flight over the phone, but would need to do so in person at the Taksim Sales Office, or at the airport.

We heard that Taksim Square was a nice place to go anyway, so we headed that way. It is a nice area but VERY confusing. We asked directions, and were universally told that it was near the McDonalds. Unfortunately, no one seemed to know WHICH McDonalds. After a solid half hour of searching, we finally found the office. We took a number. It was 208. The line was on number 143. We settled in for a long wait.

This is when our luck began to turn. Number 185 left, and we got her ticket. When we arrived at the desk, the lady was very friendly and helpful. Our tickets were changed with almost no hassle, only a 50 Euro charge each.

End result. We will be in Vienna for 8 days. At the end of it, we will have visas to India. We HOPE. Because we will be in Vienna for an extended time, we may be able to visit some friends from the Camino. Overall, it's not nearly as bad as we feared it might be. Just cross your fingers that the Visas process without a hitch.

It was nearly 7:30 by the time we finished dealing with the travel arrangements. The day felt a bit of a loss, though I took a slightly different route on each trip to the payphone, and living in the Old Quarter as we are, there were new treasures around every corner. 7:30, the squares are just waking up to evening activities, mostly centered around eating and drinking. We have heard that it is best to avoid seafood when sampling "street meat", but there was a man with a tray mussels and fresh lemons that proved too tempting. For 3 Lyra (2 US Dollars) we got 10 mussels stuffed with spicy rice pilaf and topped with freshly squeezed lemon. We also had roasted corn and Doner Kebabs (which taste entirely different than Doner in Europe, but very delicious). All told, our mobile feast cost us less than 7 US Dollars. Not only was it cheap and tasty (Street food is some of my favourite eats), we ate it while wandering the labrynthine streets and courtyards of Old Istanbul.

Upon returning to the hostel, we met and Australian girl who also happens to be...a SET DESIGNER! We spent rest of the evening finishing off the last of our apricot liquor and tasty treats left over from our visit to Germany. It was lovely meeting someone with such similar interest to our own, again proving just how small a world theatre really is.

In addition to Aussie Girl, we have met a host of interesting characters at this hostel, including a few young Americans living and teaching English abroad, and another Aussie by birth, who is now cycling from England all the way to his current home in Japan. As with the albergues on the Camino, one of the perks of hostel living is this conglomeration of like-minded people. In general, hostels will comprise a group of individuals who appear on the surface entirely dissimilar, but who share a similar sense of adventure, of living a little closer to the edge, of grabbing life and shaking out all the possibilities it has to offer.

In hostels, though we are far from blood relations, we still have family.

Day 77 - Turkish Delight

We spent the morning attending to some travel details. In the afternoon we were away to the airport for our first flight since before the Camino. It was odd being in an airport again, but all went smoothly. Our bags were searched, but nothing other than Cz's sunscreen (liquid) confiscated. If you have any excuse to use Turkish Air, do so. Even in Economy, the seats are huge and soft with flexible headrests. They fed us a dinner even though the flight was only 2.5 hours. They remembered that I was a vegetarian. OK, so on this trip I'm not, but my records with Expedia say that I am, and Turkish Air honored it. Once in Istanbul, we breezed through customs. At the airport, we were approached by loads of taxi and hotel touts, but I had good directions to the hostel via public transportation, and we warded them off no problem. The Metro operates on old-school tokens which are purchased from kiosks outside of each station. To get from the airport to our hostel we needed top take a metro and then the above-ground tram. From our windows, a heady mix of old (as in Byzantine) and new streamed past. At the transfer point, we could have sampled all sorts of fruits, bought any number of toys, and in general been parted with our cash in a myriad of delicious ways. We pressed on though, and hopped on the tram and headed to our neighborhood. Here I will give you an excerpt from the directions to our hostel. Follow the tramline to the corner with the traffic light. Turn right into the courtyard past the Haggia Sophia. The Blue Mosque is a little farther down on the right....Not even to our hostel, and we are already walking through the courtyards of Haggia Sophia and The Blue Mosque! Later we discovered that the rooftop terrace of our home in Istanbul has views over the Maramar Sea, and the Domes and Minarets of both landmarks.

Turkish hospitality is legendary. As we were sitting outside nibbling cookies, the cousin of the night desk person from the hostel drove up. He opened two cold beers (for himself and the clerk) and apologized for not bring one for us. We said not to worry about it, but after a little while he dove into his trunk, and produced a bottle of Hungarian apricot liquor which he said we must try. We did try it, and spent a lovely hour or so chatting, trading cookies and drinks in the cool evening air. (Istanbul is HOT during the day, but nights are breezy and pleasant) At the end of the visit, the cousin pressed the bottle into our hands and declared that we must finish it.

As part of the conversation, both clerk and cousin warned us against accepting offers of hospitality from shop owners, and that people on the street are often friendly to try to make a sale, etc, etc, etc. Don't worry, this wasn't the case here. This was just a few people sitting outside and enjoying the summer night.

Istanbul takes all the colours and warmth - both in temperature and friendliness - of Spain and kicks them up a notch. I'm not sure if more is necessarily better, but it certainly an intoxicating mix. As of one evening, I like it here very much.