I’m a bit behind on the blog so I will keep my entries about Turkey fairly brief – certainly not doing it justice.
The flight from Odessa was uneventful and soon I was in Turkey – paying 45 EUR for a 90 day visa (three times the price for nationals of many other countries… what did we do to Turkey?). The Istanbul Ataturk Airport was a pleasant welcome; then I found my hostel after a trip by metro and tram.
The hostel I stayed at (Green House Hostel) was quite nice. Off the “far side” of Taksim Square, it is a bit out of the way, but was reasonably priced and operated by a very kind gentleman. Overall, Green House was one of the best hostel experiences I’ve had.
I met yet another Canadian and wandered to the Galata Tower for views of the city.
The next day I booked my remaining flights and some other transportation before visiting the Dolmabahce Sarayi Palace. The entertaining rooms were gigantic and ornately decorated… very impressive. I then decided to… walk to Asia. Istanbul is partially in Europe and partially in Asia, with a few bridges and a bunch of boats connecting the two. I wandered towards the closest bridge, wandered under it, up a hill, and eventually gave up, noticing no pedestrian walkway.
The following day I went on a Bosphorous Sea tour with two hostellers: one from England and the other from Slovakia, but currently living in Qatar. The boat ride stopped in Asia – so my first trip to Asia has been by boat! Wonderful! We grabbed some lunch and returned to the boat… finding it in a different place than where we had been dropped off. The boat returned to the first drop off location to pick up the other tourists and we cruised back to the European side of Istanbul. The sites along the sea and coastline were wonderful.
We went to the Old Turkish Bath for a unique scrub down experience and massage. Afterwards, I spent some time outside the Blue Mosque before visiting inside and getting hassled by a carpet dealer.
Tuesday brought a series of epic fails. Adriana, the traveler from Qatar, and I were going to head to Prince’s Island and then the Grand Bazaar. Unfortunately, it would be almost two hours for the next ferry from Kabatas to Prince’s Island – so we took the tram to the Grand Bazaar. Wandering through the network of shops quickly, we returned to a tram that should have had us at Kabatas in time for the 1400h ferry – until the tram suddenly became very quiet – the kind of quiet that results from the catenary losing power. We didn’t know what had happened so we stayed on the sweltering tram for about twenty minutes, at which point there was no possibility of catching the ferry in time and through discussion with a local found out about the electrical problem.
Food was the solution and we figured we would catch a later ferry – so we grabbed a bite to eat and, sure enough, the tram started running after about 40 minutes being stopped. We bought new tokens and then waited… then realized two trams were stopped an odd distance from the station – the power had failed once again. Once the power was finally restored we were on our way, made it to Kabatas, and bought tickets for the public ferry at 5 TL each – about $2.80 CAD. The boat was surprisingly nice, originally receiving a “that’s far too nice to be our boat” from me, expecting the public ferries in Turkey to be somewhat older, smaller, and grungier. This boat seemed to be quite new, perhaps a year old, and was very clean.
We reached Prince’s Island stopping at an island on the way. The trip on the Mediterranean Sea was so nice we questioned the value of taking the cruise the day before. Arriving on Prince’s Island we set off to find a beach… searching… and searching. We arrived near a hotel or resort and through some Belgians learned it was private and inaccessible to us, that there were sand beaches but you had to take another boat to get to them and it was now too late in the day to do so. Foiled!
We walked back towards the docks and stopped at a “private beach” for which you could pay to enter – we paid 10 TL because it was nearing the end of the day. …When things go “wrong” it is sometimes nice that they go wrong in several ways, so you at least get a story out of it. This “beach” was not what you would expect for a tourist destination on the Mediterranean. It’s list of problems: no sand or pebble beach, just steps off a masonry ledge into grungy waters, flanked by old rusting boats emitting pollution and noise, a smelly toilet, stray cats, and… child labour. I’m sure it was the operator’s child, but nonetheless, I was a bit uncomfortable seeing an approximately 7 year old running around cleaning things up and responding to directions from a client. Fortunately, we created no mess and needed no service, so we didn’t use the services of the child – at least directly.
We took the ferry back to Istanbul watching a nice sunset and getting soaked in a thunderstorm – with some impressively loud thunder. I once again packed my bag and readied myself to wake up at 0500h to make sure I’d get to the plane with plenty of time.
Turkey seems like a pretty nice country and the people were generally quite kind. There were a few notable issues or concerns that I think the country will need to resolve. While appearing to not have the same police corruption issue Ukraine is plagued with, there does seem to be some violence, as I saw at least two physical interactions between different men – both times it appearing an elder man was being afflicted somehow by younger men. Also, children’s rights need better protection. I saw quite a few small children – perhaps four years old at times, begging on the street. Some would be equipped with small plastic clarinets or a box of tissue paper to sell. The children were obviously incapable of coming up with the arrangement to economically support themselves on their own and would have been put in that position by an adult. As Adriana felt compelled to donate a coin to one child and take a picture, I noticed a man at a food stand down the street watching, then another, older child came, probably to collect the money, once we had left. I can only imagine that the infant wants simply to please his parents, and probably does not know a life without begging.