Now that my life, is so prearranged, I know that it's time, for a cool change
Little River Band
Up and Down and Round and Recalculate.
Ok let me say first up that Istanbul is one of the intensely best places I've been to. The place is mind bangingly beautiful, historical and crazy with friendly people. Now I'm going to temper that with it has also already supplied me with some of crappest moments I can remember. You see I hate traffic.....I tell people that I'm a country boy blah blah but really I secretly think it's a cross between being stupidly impatient, expecting logical decisions (from others, erm I'm ok) and laziness. I just wanna ride somewhere, not mess about with stoplights, safety cameras and other people doin stuff in front of me, yarda yarda.....which of course is silly, but there you go. Istanbul has gotta be up there with Beijing, Hanoi and from what I've been told most places in Russia for crazy traffic. We hit Istanbul about fivish looking for accommodation and rode straight in on the main toll road. We ran out of options so I consulted the GPS with stuff I'd gleaned off the net and it threw up the Piya Hostel. I punched it in and off we went. Holy crap.....from walking pace bumper to bumper traffic with street vendors running in and out to one lane back street squeezing against vans and taxis it was full on biff and barge....no rules....all about who dares wins...or dies. I must admit I kinda took to it...don't look at em just protect your space but Ron, who is Mr cautious (smarter) struggled. We had no idea where we were going but after freaking the GPS out, recalculating ....recalculating we finally got there totally b!@#$%ered (worn out). Oh dear.....we parked up in a pretty sad back street packed with families doing it hard and everything about pretty run down. But...no options so make the most of it.....Ron was a bit out of it so I beat the manager down a bit on the room (now that shows I had the shits on, something I usually never do) and we locked up the bikes as best we could. We busted out of the bike gear asap and hit the street for some tucker and whammo...score! We were in Sultanahmet just a short walk from the Blue Mosque! We followed the crowds uphill and there it was......I was gob smacked by our luck and Ron, who um thinks he might have heard of it couldn't believe his eyes! We wandered about till after dark on a full moon night and then headed down the street to have the best kebab meal I have ever had ......and then the food guy gipped us.....dumb tourists ah well. Check the photos and make sure you come here, you wont be disappointed, just make sure you're in a taxi or bus...not under one!
You battle through this......recalculate recalculate......beeeeeeep beeeeeep
And end up here.....if you kids touch the bikes uncle Ronnie's gonna......I've never seen Ron angry so.....he's gonna tell you all his crap jokes....nooooooo!
Throw on some thongs and shorts and head up here...doesn't the bay look nice...but wait... there's more....a lot more...
And SHAZAM.....isnt that Turkish?
And inside.... double SHAZAM!
And then come here.....Ron with his hungry Labrador look
Eat one of these......oh yes......and then overpay
"didn't we pay too much" ....."I thought so but you didn't say anything so I didn't"......
"not like you Ron"..........."just don't tell anybody"........"Ok"
JUMPING ON YOUR OWN SWORD
We`re pulled off next to a packed freeway somewhere in Istanbul. It's low thirties and I'm sweating my ass off while quietly stabbing at the GPS yet again. Ron sits quietly behind me feigning interest in the traffic and one of the godzillion cats in Istanbul. I've run out of profanities (big call), I seriously hate Mr Garmin , I'm lost, I hate all of Mr Garmin's relatives, I'm lost, and even hate anybody with a G in their name, I'm lost, and I cant give up, so I bloody have to fix it
.....and it's my fault as usual.
We leave the Piya hostel ninish to head to the Uzbekistan Consulate as according to Deanos grand plan. I'd done my homework months before and had all paperwork in place and ready to go..or so I thought. We battle the twentyish k's to the consulate in the morning heat. Business is conducted outside in the street and you head in and out the back yard as you gather paperwork using a fixer guy who lives a couple of doors down (and does real estate as well!). You line up with lots of worried looking people, get paperwork, sweat, check paperwork, get mistakes retyped, sweat, crack nervous smiles, plead, jump on bikes and get US dollars and then it's midday and business is over. We just get the paperwork in and are told come back Monday (it's Friday) which is ok. We are knackered and Ron suggests we drain our water bottles before we leave. As we hang about the fixer guy bolts over to us and hands us our passports back.......shit we've been knocked back ..."no no look inside".... two fresh Uzbek visas. We shake his arm off and plough back into the traffic for another thirty k to find rear tyres......I should have quit while ahead but I'm a stubborn idiot on a plan so with no lunch or water and a dodgey GPS we get stuck for two hours (see above) going round and round. We finally make it to the tyre guys in the motorcycle precinct and find only one choice of tyre at a crazy price. My head is throbbing and I cant accept that in a city of seventeen million people there is only one choice. We ask around everywhere.......and go back the next day and get the one choice! That night I crash out big time and am totally knackered. Ron, who is basically a spectator in all this gives me some space and wanders off and gets a hair wash and cut, beard trim, and nose and ear hair cleaned out (filled a whole skip)........first he's paid for in twenty years apparently.
In the middle, in the middle, in the middle of a dream
I lost my shirt I pawned my rings
I've done all the dumb things
Paul Kelly
Ooooh Istanbul
The plan was to hit Istanbul, get Uzbek and Tajik visas, rear tyres and leave, no real tourist stuff. This is a proper motorbike trip right. What I didn't plan on was for Istanbul to hit me. We lucked into a great Hostel called the Hush Hostel just up the hill from the Kadikoy bus and ferry area. We had met two local lads near the motorcycle precinct who took us in, helped us out, and googled up the hostel and gave us a free coffee. As an Australian to be the recipient of such kindness and unsolicited help from strangers is a rare thing. The fact that I felt wary and uncomfortable in the face of nothing but open concern for strangers and friendship bothers me.....a lot.....
The Kadikoy area is a stunner and we wandered about for the rest of the weekend.We checked out the back streets, took a cruise, poked our noses into old shops, waved to Ron's barber every time we went past, learnt and forgot Turkish words, and made pacts to come back and do this properly. Look, photos don't do this place justice
Jump a plane and get here!
Two genuinely good people, Khan and Ufuk... and an Australian
Sing it to the madness tune "our hostel at the top of the street, our hostel....."
Stay here, its clean, inexpensive (never say cheap ok) and in a great area.
oooooh innit noice.....oooooh
All these pictures are taken on the first camera I've ever read the instructions from.....so some even look ok. My wife Marianne will be pleased.
Nah mate not that one, the one on the bottom!
I've taken a couple of shopping type shots to attract women to the area.....if this is sexist it's ok as I was born in the sixties and choose not to move on!
And again
I like book shops and this must be of the worlds deepest.......anyone know what the record may be? Anybody...no?
You can get anything here - "bag of 4" nails and some dried apricots no problem."
Erm separate bags please
The hour and a half cruise was about six aussie dollars.....it's not quite popeye on the Torrens but had it's moments!
......"Hey Mustafa, you've gone and left the hose on again" ......
Just a nice shot.........nothing else.
On the morning we left the Hush Hostel there was a film being shot right outside. The DR is about to have it's make up done.
Not sure if this works.... a bit of modern and old....or a bit mardi gra perhaps
The Tajik consulate. Nothing really special to see but good folks deserve a photo.
I like this...so many comedy options....Ron had his boots polished outside the Tajik consulate by this guy who obviously has no sense of smell! He then tipped him extra.......unheard of.... and then two hours later it bucketed with rain and ruined the job. I seriously doubt we will see this tipping business ever again. This is our mate the security guard from the Tadjik consulate who obviously can smell.
Its twelve o'clock and its a wonderful day.
I know you hate me but I'll ask anyway
Wont you come with me to a place in a little town
The only way to get there is to go straight down
Silver Chair.
The Monday morning thirty K ride across town to the Tadjik consulate for stage three of the plan was the usual live and let die traffic chaos. Once again business starts outside the consul's house but within two hours we were on our way again. The lady we dealt with was polite and considerate and we even had a yarn with the guard on the gate while waiting, who spoke good English. We obtained our visas but couldn't be issued with GBAO permits for the Pamirs yet as there have been disturbances there. Will have to try again in Dushanbe
Best of all.....the grand plan lives,and we're off to The Stans!