My Turkish Delights

The 19th September 2009. Up at 6.30 am, racing around to water my mimosa tree. The garden is in shadow and silent except for single crabapples falling haphazardly with a hollow bong onto the metal tray of the barbecue – but there is that sense of growing momentum, of the day opening up. The car has been borrowed by our daughters and is hopefully even now speeding towards the Channel Tunnel en route to the south of France. It will appreciate a good long run after being incarcerated so long in its city hutch.

Last bit of ironing, all switches off, loos flushed, cases bearing coloured ribbons in the hallway. Leaving home is always a nightmare for me. I don’t want to go, I think of all the things that could go wrong. The taxi arrives, the driver picks up our bags and we are dragged out of our burrow… it is agonizing. We turn the corner at the bottom of the street and all at once I have forgotten about our house. We are on our way.

It’s always best to look forward for the most part and my natural instincts seem to mainly work that way. Now I fiddle neurotically in my bag, checking passport and tickets. The ride to Terminal 3 is smooth and we arrive in good time. However, there is an enormous queue and a high percentage of lumbering bodies plonking around. I hope I am not sitting next to one of them.

I am rewarded with a window seat. Turkish Airways give us the best airline lunch I’ve had in a long time, finishing up with a piece of plum cake and a glass of cherry juice. All prettily presented and delicious.

SLIGHTLY SINISTER

Last week I went to see Francis and Christine Kyle at their gallery in Maddox Street. Ramsey Gibb, who shows his paintings there, has just completed five or six oils of Istanbul, which are to be part of a large ‘Byzantium’ exhibition, starting on the 11th November. There is one of the waters of the Bosphorus, which I think is outstanding. It’s edgy. Viscous, heavy water with a slightly sinister swell below a pinkish blue evening sky, silhouetting the dark minarets of a domed mosque on the opposite shore. I am unaware now that I will soon be sitting on a boat with this selfsame view before my eyes. John took a photo of it, which I must compare with the painting.

Three quarters of an hour to go. Some children are starting to squawk like jackdaws and the scene outside is rather Daliesque. Pale blue lakes and eruptions of cumulous clouds, like forts or fairy castles, rising out of an otherwise deserted landscape. I can imagine a posse of colourful, turbanned janissaries on horseback, flags flying, galloping across the white, pristine plain… far down below are countries I have never been to. Full of dragons, I expect.

The plane drones on and the sun coming through the window makes me drowsy. At last I can see the waters of the Bosphorus, alive with a myriad of boats, great and small. After interminable waits to get visas and find our bags, we are in a bus going to the city centre. Ribbons of scarlet flowers like supine snakes garland the middle of the dual carriageway.

Our hotel welcomes us in the lobby with drinks of soft, pastel coloured syrup. Mine is pink, John’s is appropriately green and there’s orange and blue to make up the disparate colours of the rainbow. Our room is on the sixth floor, looking out over the street, with a rooftop glimpse of the Topkapi Palace in the distance. There’s a shop/café on the opposite side of the street, selling all kinds of delicious sweetmeats. I am immediately seduced and can’t wait to be sitting at one of the inviting wooden tables outside. John is more interested in sorting out the various cables he needs for his computer.

There are two low, narrowish beds with firm mattresses. I lie down feeling completely flattened by the travelling and queueing. But happy and rather astonished to be here, in the heart of Istanbul. The hotel dining room is on the top floor, enclosed in glass with a spectacular view of the Golden Horn. The mosques and bridges are illuminated at night and the anticipation of what lies ahead tomorrow is almost unbearable – especially as I am so dog tired at the same time. Luckily, I am completely blotto as soon as my head touches the pillow and stay that way until the dawn wakes me, lighting up the cherry and ochre petals of the large green stemmed flowers on the curtains.

This is going to be a long entry – but, of course, you can skim it……..

I skim things all the time because there’s just so much interesting information around and I am, by nature, a fast and greedy eater of words as well as all sweet and toothsome delicacies. But now I’m on the other side, being the writer, it’s rather shocking to think how quickly somebody can skim what it took so long to write. Perhaps you’ll get the feel of atmosphere at least…… suffice it to say that Istanbul is now right up there in lights at the top of the tree for me. Before and after can often completely change your attitude to a place – in a positive or negative way. Moreover, there are some places that are not even on my list to visit – ever. I have always been curious about Istanbul, but not knowing Turkish made me hesitant. However, Hania had said I must go and her insistence was the catalyst in making me do it.

Winging to Istanbul

Winging to Istanbul

Aerial view, Istanbul

Aerial view, Istanbul

OUT AND ABOUT

On the first day, Çamil, our esteemed and very knowledgeable Turkish guide, takes us to an old area of the city………

First day exploring

First day exploring

Gravestones

Gravestones

The first picture shows wall paintings – one of whirling dervishes. In the second, the turbanned gravestones indicate men, those with veils belong to women. The number of flowers carved on the veil shows how many children the woman bore. A fez indicates a public servant.

John is adopted by a cat which falls asleep on his lap. Not a devotee of cats, nevertheless, they all seem to be drawn to him…

John with a ginger devotee

John with a ginger devotee

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