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Tuesday, October 15 - Istanbul (Besiktas)
Mario sets off to Ankara by car this morning as planned. He leaves me the house key. He’s so trusting, not that that is a mistake. Before he leaves he sets out cereal and milk for me and shows me where the toaster is. “Just replace what you use,” he instructs me.
It is another sunny day. Down the end of Mario’s street is the constantly busy highway that leads downtown. I am here a day earlier than planned, a day earlier than I had told Mike I would be. This unexpected stroke of good luck has me wonder what to do first.
Of course, there is the matter of my bike lock which must be replaced before Friday, the day I will need to leave here. I need a map of Istanbul, and perhaps Turkey, but first I need to decide where I will go from here. One thing is certain, I don’t want to travel on alone. I am sure Mike and I will make a better go of it this time, but I am not sure when he is arriving. I need to get to the main post office to see if there is a letter waiting there from him. I need to get to the tourism office too, if there is one. I don’t have a guide on Turkey so I don’t know, but there should be one.
My heads hurts from all the options, especially the big one of where will I go after Istanbul. My original thoughts a few months ago were that I would return to southern Greece, perhaps through the islands and then back to southern Italy, Sicily and across to Tunisia, cycling west through Algeria and Morocco to winter south of the Atlas mountains. It still sounds like a plan if Mike wants to do it.
Not knowing which first thing is first, I set out on foot to check out the neighbourhood, see if cycling in Istanbul traffic looks feasible, to look for a map store and bike store. I make my way down the steep hill to the Maullim Naci, a highway that follows the Bosphorus, the narrow straight of water, as narrow as a river, that separates Europe and Asia. It is amazing to be standing here beside it since it has been such a huge part of history, from Homer’s Odyssey to the fall of the Ottoman Empire in WWI. It is over this narrow neck of land and narrower band of water that most international land travelers pass between the two the two continents.
The water is teeming with movement, boats of all sizes and gulls overhead. The shore is even more interesting, especially on this side. There aren’t many stores, except a few convenience stores and the like. I am able to buy a map of the city and a guide, but not able to find a bike store. The map shows that the tourist information office is seven kilometres form here, in Sultanahmet, the neighbourhood on the ‘Golden Horn’ around the Hagia Sophia and the Blue Mosque.
Technically, I am still looking for a bike shop while I am walking along the Bosphorus and there is no consistent commercial strip here, and the area is chalk-full of distractions. Some are described in the guide book and some are not.
To the south, just south of Besiktas, the great Bosphorus Suspension Bridge crosses over to Asia. I have a flashback to my fifth day of my trip when I passed under the bridge that spans Lisbon Harbour, also a massive suspension bridge. It is a pleasing curiosity that both corners of Europe have such similar bridges.But I turn and walk north away from the bridge because I see a commercial area half a kilometre to the north that I hope might have a bike shop. My hopes are not high though as I don’t see any other cyclists on the streets here. This is definitely not Amsterdam.
My first distraction along the way is a pink mosque called Kurucesme Tezkereci Osman Camii. Camii, I have already learned, means ‘mosque’. It is on the inland side of Maullim Naci, at the base of steep Besiktas hill. It doesn’t look open to the public at the moment, but I am more taken by its cute exterior, a colourful surprise sitting so close to Mario’s home.
Only a couple hundred metres further, I find another treasure, a grand yali, named Mabeynci Arif Bey. Yalis are large homes build next to the water’s edge along the Bosphorus, according to my guide, and this one is one of the largest. I too appears not to be open to the public, which is fine by me. I get a good shot of it from a pier off a point of land jutting into the strait.
There are no bike shops in the nearby commercial area. I do find a park to relax in. There is a monument to Barbaros Heyreddin Pasha there, swathed in his huge Ottoman turban. I have never heard of him actually, but the guide book fills me in. He was a
fearless and skilled admiral of the days of the early Ottoman Empire expansion. He attacked and plundered cities along the coast of Spain during the time feared Spanish King Charles V was Holy Roman Emperor, the richest and most powerful European leader because he new conquests and treasures from plundering the Mayan and Inca empires. That takes balls, but Barbaros was filled with passion for spreading Islam. He liberated most of North Africa from Spanish control.
I wander south again to return to Mario’s. The sun is now in the west, leaving this east-facing coast in shadow. I stop for dinner at a restaurant that specialized in Turkish foods. I order a lamb kofta, a sort of fried meatloaf served in large balls. For dessert, I order a Turkish custard with pistachio nuts, which is apparently an Istanbul specialty. I make my way up the hill back to Mario’s with a full stomach and spend the rest of the evening staring at the lights of the city and writing my journal.
PHOTO 1: from Mario's home in Besiktas with election signs
PHOTO 2: a sea of elections signs near Mario's
PHOTO 3: great suspension bridge across the Bosphorus
PHOTO 4: Kurucesme Tezkereci Osman Camii
PHOTO 5: Maybenci Arif Bey Yali
PHOTO 6: 16C Muslim admiral Barbaros Heyuddin Pasha
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