The Turkish Grand Prix

(John) We didn't get to see the Turkish Grand Prix today, but we saw all the people that did and we were lucky enough to hear all the great tunes they were dancing to till 3 in the morning. I suppose that sometimes, if one books the cheapest hostel in the largest city in a country and finds that the room is cramped, smells of cigarette smoke and Febreeze, and comes with the thumping sound of three all night discos, one shouldn't be surprised. But we still like our hotel and our room. It is 5 floors up, has wrap around windows, a view of Taksim Square and a fridge. It also has coffee and tea making facilities. It didn't come that way. A couple of days ago I decided that I wanted the power to boil water and wondered whether I could find an electric kettle small enough to fit in my backpack without me noticing it too much. Well today, just yards from our hostel, an old man in a tiny little appliance shop made me very happy by selling to me a two cup kettle. It weighs virtually nothing, is six inches high and three inches wide. Today we came home and had three cups of tea and one cup of coffee with milk and sugar for a total price of 5 TL (3.3 CAD), including the kettle. Earlier today in Starbucks, we spent 12 TL on a fancy version of the same thing. In a normal Turkish cafe, three cups of tea and a cup of coffee would cost 5 TL and you don't get to keep the kettle. Even if it never works again we won't lose. This is why I am still in a good mood despite the fact that the beer is too expensive to buy in Turkey and the pounding music from the disco below isn't going to help me recover from an overnight bus trip.

We were tired but feeling pretty smug this morning when we were dropped off in Taksim square. We bought tickets from Pamukalle to Istanbul. The journey began with a short mini bus shuttle to Diblizi, where we waited for one hour, then boarded a Technobus that took us to a suburb of Istanbul. Then another mini bus took us the rest of the way through to the centre. From there we had only a short walk to our hostel. The ticket cost just 35 TL each (23.3 CAD, 14.5 GBP). The bus was again quite comfortable with individual entertainment systems. This particular system came with a set of TV channels. The best one by far was what I liked to call the road trip movie channel. It was a feed from a camera on the front of the bus. If you watched it long enough and got truly absorbed you could imagine you were watching, and also experiencing, the purest road trip movie ever. Better even than 3D because you could feel the bus move and hear the surround sound of other vehicles passing. The only down side was the plot, which was a bit thin and the dialogue needed a bit of work. Still, it was better than watching Turkish versions of Survivor or flicking through still photographs of Mercedes Benz cars, which was the other entertainment option. Lesley and the kids found a movie in French which was apparently very entertaining.

The staff on the bus were wonderful. They served us coffee and tea and other beverages of our choice, but also helped us sleep by making sure passengers didn't make too much noise. They even woke up one man who was snoring quite loudly. The small boy in front of Mhari and Lesley was pretty travel sick and threw up a few times. The attendant was always there to hand out the sick bags and wet wipes. We stopped twice on route and the bus stations in Turkey were in direct contrast to the ones we experienced in Egypt. They looked as if they had been built yesterday. They were packed with stalls selling Turkish delight and three hundred other types of sweets and nuts. Smartly dressed people were enjoying restaurants and delicious smelling meat kebaps. There were clean toilets and outside the buses were getting washed as they arrived. They were much more like airport terminals than any bus station I have ever seen. It just seemed wrong somehow. Bus stations should be grimy and smell of diesel fumes and urine. They should sell only really horrible food and all the people there should look desparate. This will convince you that you have chosen the cheapest possible method of transportation.

I couldn't help thinking I was in the wrong place.

Turkish buses

First steps in Istanbul.  Iskital Cadessi

The new kettle.  Yaram Yagh Sut = Full Fat Milk

Our Hostel in Istanbul.  We are up there on the roof