We had gone to bed at 8 o’clock, + it was 8 o’clock again before we were awake + up + about – logs again. Business first, at the bank, + then the bus company office. Then a superb breakfast, after which Walter, Val + myself went to the covered bazaar. Walter appreciates the company, I think – he seems rather a lonely person, which is a pity, for he is warm + generous. He certainly looks so much better than when we first met him. Today, dressed in proper shoes, clean jeans, + his new jacket, he could have passed for a holidaying business executive. He certainly put me to shame, + there was no comparison with the wasted hippy we had met in Quetta.
The bazaar was an interesting place In itself, long tunnels in which one could lose oneself, restored + painted enough not to be dingy. But it was also far too touristy, like an Istanbul Covent Garden, with virtually all the shops devoted to leatherware, jewellery or knick-knacks of one kind or another. Val + I wandered with a measure of interest – typically, only Walter bought anything – an inlaid wooden jewellery box. We visited a coffee shop, smoky + crowded, reminding one of Vienna or Heidelberg, not Istanbul. While I think of it, Istanbul is not the gateway to the East, for it is not Eastern, not even slightly Oriental, but European to its core, with only the most subtle of exotic flavourings thrown in for effect. It is, after all, across the Bosphorous, + hence European.
Anyway, the coffee shop. Val + Walter had a sort of hot milk with cinnamon, sweeter than the sickliest dessert, while I had a Turkish coffee – rare now, incidentally, in Turkey, because of foreign exchange restrictions, so I read. Val was horrified when, thro’ a misunderstanding, I was brought a huge mug of the stuff instead of the thimble being served to others, + angered when I meekly sipped at it + accepting the consequences instead of sending it back. Luckily the financial damage was not too bad. And the coffee was wonderful. Strong enough to make my nerves tingle + my head buzz.
We wandered the streets a little too, but purposelessly (unless one counts one pair of woolly tights + one pair of socks bought by Val + Walter respectively – we had somehow wandered into the wholesale haberdashery area, where they were tempted + fell in short order.) Having still some time to kill, it being a wintry day, we wandered down to the Topkapi Palace, now museum. Until we were brought up short at the ticket office, where we discovered it cost TL400, or nearly $1, to get in. More out of a spirit of mild adventure than any real expectation of saving money, we flashed our (fake) student cards, + discovered that the price dripped to 2.5% of the total – TL10. Walter was without a card, however – tho’ we tried to persuade him to split the cost 3 ways + come in, he was adamant about returning to the bus office + waiting for his bus.
The palace cum museum was interesting enough, tho’ not nearly as exotic as we had anticipated, tho’ I suppose the cold weather militated against that. There were rooms allocated to jewellery, to costumes, to porcelain, to silver, even to holy relics – worthy enough, but dull. Since what we were really looking for was a glimpse of life in the Royal Palace. Which is why, I suppose, we took the tour of the harem apartments – TL200 each, student card or not. It was OK – not great, since one had to use a power of imagination to picture scantily-clad ladies cavorting etc – but it was good to see the place, a more exotic version of, say, Blenheim Palace. The commentary was not up to much, since I had not the faintest interest in whether the tiles were Flemish or Chinese. But just occasionally a human detail would come thro’, such as the running water in one room being there to thwart potential spies overhearing the conversation.
Outside, it was cold + wintry, but perhaps that was the reason I was lured into a scratch game of football on the way back to the hotel. Why they needed me was obvious enough – they were 5, + I made 6, 3 a side. An enjoyable + exhausting game followed, made all the more palatable by comfortable victory: 7-2. Our opponents concentrated too much on attack, but our goalkeeper was good, + when we broke away, we had no goalkeeper to contend with.
When I returned – Val had already gone on to the hotel – I was hot + aching. Physically, wonderfully pleasant, a feeling not felt since the days of hockey + beer in East London. And to beer we soon went, down to the Pudding Shop to meet C + A. We were early, they were late, but it gave us both the chance to get primed – me on beer, Val on vodka + orange, C + A at the bar just down the road. They’d been working on the van all morning, + had got frozen. Even now, Alan was shaking uncontrollably. So our first priority for a venue for the meal was warmth. I think both of we two pairs had rather hoped that the other had sorted out a good place to eat. Neither of us had, so we went to a restaurant just a few doors away. All turned out well – they didn’t have a licence, but fetched us a beer + bottle of wine, + the food was superb. The company was good too. C + A like to talk, but like to listen too, + the stories we swapped were almost all entertaining. We finished the evening in a nearby bar, where Colin treated us to the Turkish equivalent of ouzo, which I enjoyed but Val didn’t. But I like aniseed balls.
Quite why I thought the coffee shop reminded one of Heidelberg or Vienna, when I had been to neither (though Vienna since, briefly) I have no idea – caught out by my own pretensions, forty years on. But it was an excellent day, the best we had had for quite a while – good coffee, some sight-seeing, some culture, some football, and an excellent meal with good company at the end of it. Splendid.
