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Wednesday, October 23rd – Istanbul, the Golden Horn
Coen doesn’t want to see the Hagia Sophia or the Dolmabahce Palace or anything else that costs a lot to get into. He is in the mood for walking today and since we want to stay together today we agree on a long walk around the eastern end of the Golden
Horn, following the shore of the Bosphorus below the Topkapi Palace, Hagia Sophia and the Blue Mosque. It will be a long walk so we stop to buy some fruit and juice to share along the way. We first head north to Gulhane Park that wraps around the west and north sides of the walled Topkapi Palace, where I had walked before with Ilio. The park is a pleasure to be in as it is cool and fresh with garden scents of rotting greenery. It is much more peaceful than the honking traffic in the business areas.
Coen isn’t into taking pictures. He wants to remember by memory only. I can appreciate how he feels. When I am taking pictures I get caught up on recording what I see instead of experiencing it. I take my camera though, because I know I will want to remember and show off where I have been. 
We followed the manicured lawns and flower beds along the paved paths to the northernmost point of the park. The old city has the shape of a rhinoceros’s head facing east, ad this point is the tusk. From here we have breezy view of the Bosphorus, the ferries (only half a kilometre away) and the Galata Bridge and Tower. It feels very nautical here.
This is Kennedy Road. I presume Kennedy visited here during the Cold War. It is rather like Vancouver’s Marine Drive that bends around coastline of the city. From the point we follow it south, staying to the water side. At points, we can see the minarets of the Hagia Sofia and Blue Mosque peeking up from behind a hillside of trees. Boats of all sizes are entering and leaving the Bosphorus. Fishermen with their catfish poles line the rocks at the water’s edge, basking idly in the sun. They don’t seem to be catching anything, but perhaps that’s not the point of their afternoon.
There is a small but popular beach further along. There are a few women but this is a conservative country so they are mostly covered up. The men are much less so, to my pleasure and Coen’s disappointment. They gaze at us as we walk by. We must look like an off couple, lanky Coen being half a foot higher than me, hunched a little from a history of looking down at people, and me being shorter and skinnier. It’s obvious to me that several of the men are undressing us with their eyes. Coen doesn’t seem to notice. Perhaps only gay men feel comfortable looking each other in the eye. A couple of them are cute too, with those dark, handsome Turkish eyes and ready smiles from their hearts. The others just leer so I pretend not to notice them.
Beyond the beach is a hospital on the inland side. From here the Blue Mosque is more visible, but it’s a hundred metres above us and half a kilometre away. We walk past it and start to climb through unfamiliar streets to reach the part of Sultanahmet we know. We have picked a street that leads us very close to the youth hostel.
It is still early afternoon. Coen wants to check the post office and so I go with him to check for more mail. There is a letter from Vincent, saying we should look for him here at the post office around 5 pm tomorrow. He says he planned to leave Alexandria yesterday morning. He must have sent the letter right after Coen left. Anyway, it has both of us smiling. In a couple day we could be heading off into Asia, a world I have not prepared for since I never anticipated even ending up as far east as this city. I have a letter from David which I tuck into my bag to read later. Coen likes to relax in sidewalk patios and pubs, so we find a pub with a closed in courtyard and proceed to drink the rest of the afternoon away. We are both feeling it as he hobble back to the youth hostel three hours later for their lifeless cafeteria meal. Turks have a reputation for interesting cuisine, much like France and Italy, but they are not good at cooking other people’s cuisines, which is what they try to do at the hostel. We brush our teeth to disguise the alcohol and then line up, doing our best not to appear drunk and we collect our food.
We spot other backpackers already eating and we join them at their table before we realize that Cindi is sitting with them. “O look what the cat dragged in,” she squawks. The other guys start making cat fight sounds, in anticipation of what is to come. “At I didn’t crawl out of a sewer,” I answer her, which earns me a raucous round of laughter.
The little part of her brain that functions cannot think of an appropriate retort, so she leaves in a snit. Her boyfriend Bert stays behind, shaking his head in disbelief.
We spend the rest of the evening chatting in the lounge with other backpackers. It was a group that kept changing as some left and others arrived. Bert left and returned later, discreetly revealing a chunk of hashish and a pipe he bought today. Coen and I join him for a couple secret puffs near the garbage pins at the back of the hostel. I haven’t smoked hash in years and this is strong stuff.
Before I get too stoned to speak and after I am too stoned to stop myself, I apologize to Bert for my cat fights with Cindi. “It’s her fault,” he shrugs it off. “She picks fights with everyone, especially me. But when she is fighting with you, she wants to be cuddled, so the last couple days have been good for me.”
“I guess she just reminds me of a vacuous cheerleader for some football team,” I blurt out, instantly horrified that I said it. But Burt just laughs. “She IS a cheerleader, and she’s proud of it. That’s how I met her. And speaking of stereotypes, she is great in bed too.” That gives Coen an uncontrollable grin from ear to ear, and he gets me grinning too. I am liking my time with them this evening. I hope Vincent is this much fun.
PHOTO 1: statue of Ataturk in Gulhane Park
PHOTO 2: in Gulhane Park
PHOTO 3: romance Turkish style
PHOTO 4: view of Karkaroy across the Galata Bridge
PHOTO 5: Kennedy Road
PHOTO 6: lighthouse and the Bosphorus
PHOTO 7: SE shore of the Horn with Blue Mosque up the hill
PHOTO 8: ruins along the south shore
PHOTO 9: climbing back into the city
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