Of taxis and tea

Our flight from Singapore left at 11:35 a night and flew via Dubai so by the time we arrived at Istanbul we were all pretty tired. The girls, as usual were star travelers.

Our apartment

We jumped into a taxi and I showed the driver the map of where I wanted to go. He looked in a amazement at the map, shaking his head and muttering. I had the feeling he had no idea where to take us, even though the map clearly showed us right next to one of Istanbul's landmarks, the Galata Tower.

The man clearly had a mucus problem, and he snorted and snuffled his way out of the airport. The immediate affect of his ailment seemed to cause him to drive at breakneck speed and also appeared to affect his ability to keep the cab within the lanes. Despite the signs saying '50' and 'Camera zone' we reached speeds of up to 120 kmh. After about 5 minutes of this we reached a police road block. The driver of the car next to us pointed at our car and tooted his horn. I thought something was left hanging out of the door, but the taxi driver assured me everything was ok. We tuned around and raced back to the airport. After a second car pointed and tooted at us Jess and I were starting to get a little worried about what was wrong. The driver swung into a petrol station and parked near the compressed air. Ah, so a flat tire was all It was. As we sat at the petrol station opposite the airport I watched the money continuing to tick over on the meter and observed tat we had gone precisely nowhere and yet still managed to rack up 10 lira on the meter.

Galata tower

Eventually we got going and after more horrific driving we made it to the Galata Tower. The driver took another look at the map and shrugged his shoulders. He drove around the narrow streets, clearly clueless. After 5 mins or so he stopped, opened his window and called someone over. Words were exchanged, the map changed hands and the net result was the new person shrugged their shoulders, said something (probably 'I don't know - you work it out') and then walked off.

I rang our contact Elif and asked her to talk to the driver. She said she would give him the instructions. After speaking for a few seconds the driver looked much happier and said 'no problem'. We then drove to the tower and sat and waited. And waited. Oh, and waited, the meter ticking over all the time. I felt that we could probably find it ourselves so I told the driver we were getting out. 'No, no' he told me. 'She is coming.' I pointed to the meter. 'No problem. No problem' he said Finally someone came to guide us back to the apartment the meter said 36.45 lira. Magnanimously the driver said 35 lira. Considering the meter had increased 2 lira while we filled up the tire and 5 lira while we waited at the tower, I decided to cut my losses and handed over the fare.

From the outside our new home for the week looked less than promising. The street was pretty grotty and there were stray cats fighting each other nearby. As we climbed the stairs I was a little apprehensive. Arriving at the apartment changed all that. It was lovely, with polished floorboards, Turkish rugs scattered throughout and nice furniture. Elif, who was there to greet us, and her boyfriend, were very charming and showed us the few things that we needed to know. After that we had the place to ourselves. We vegged for a while as we waited for the water man to deliver some bottled water. Twenty litres for 2.50 lira.

Starving, we headed out to find something to eat. We checked out some of the nearby cafes and restaurants, but it was still early and it was also Sunday and so most places were closed. We found a place right beside the Galata Tower and cautiously went in. There were already half a dozen tables occupied and the patrons were either engaged in backgammon, reading the newspaper or quiet conversation. Despite the early hour, the place was thick with smoke. We looked at each other nervously. 'Do you think it's alright to be in here?' Jess asked. 'I guess so' I said.

'Table for 4' we said confidently to the man who appeared to be in charge. He showed us to a table and proceeded to hover about the table waiting for our order. There were no menus and as we looked about the other tables there was no sign of any food. We tentatively asked for tea. 'Tea?' he asked, holding up 4 fingers. 'Yes please.' Asking about whether food was available was too much trouble to contemplate so we filled our gurgling tummies with tea. The poor girls, who didn't want tea in the first place I encouraged to put sugar in their tea until it tasted drinkable. Georgie was fine but despite adding about 5 cubes to her tiny Turkish tea cup Maggie still couldn't stomach it. Can't blame her it was quite thick. We sat for about five more minutes in complete silence listing to the roll of the dice as two police officers engaged in some competitive backgammon. We whispered to each other, each afraid of appearing like brash tourists. We finished up our tea and bolted for the door. Cost of the experience: six lira and an ounce of dignity.

Still hungry, we found another place to eat across the other side of the square. We ate some delicious pastries and while the kids had freshly squeezed orange juice, Jess and I shared a pomegranate juice. Tasty, but quite tart.

The Galata Tower is in the heart of Beyoglu, the up-market 'new' section of Istanbul (new as in many of the buildings were built in the last 200 years). The streets around here are very steep and a lot of them are vehicle free and cobbled so very romantic. On Sunday most of the shops stayed closed, but we strolled about them anyway and ended up at the Galata Bridge. This bridge crosses the Golden Horn and joins Beyoglu to Sultanahment, the ancient quarter where most of the cultural sights are. We walked across the bridge. The girls were most interested in the hundreds of fishermen dropping their lines into the estuary.

On the other side we found a few shops open and bought some treats from a market stall - dried apricots, Turkish delight, pistachios and figs. At another stall we bought some tangy cheese and some fresh halva. By this time we were really stuffed, so we found a nice looking tea house to sit and relax for a while. We had to climb in through some building works in progress and sat down. As we relaxed sipping our tea and coffee we had the chance to watch the building works. They were installing a new facade to the shop - some green stained timber to match the decor that had already been installed inside. They had built a platform by placing a timber table on top of a plastic table at both ends, the placed a thin plank across this, about six feet from the ground. One young man held the plank while a couple more climbed the wobbly structure and drilled and screwed the timber into place. Jess and I had a wry smile about the OHS laws in Australia and how this might be viewed. Still, they got it done without falling off.