Istanbul (Not Constantinople)

Coming in to land at Istanbul, the headlights of the cars below were reflecting of the wet roads, much like those I spotted as we departed Manchester (it was 11am in Manc, but still as dark as night thanks to the grey). So much for sunnier climes. The weather throughout the two days was cold and damp, except for the final day, which was cold and sunny.

Plate 1: Turkey

We found the hostel and then found the football that was on - Man Utd v. Everton, followed by Galatasaray v. Medical Park Antalyaspor. A local match that me and Graham had somehow overlooked when plotting our 'round the world in 80 pitches' trip. Similarly, we had overlooked the beer price list when we entered The Port Shield in central Istanbul, and after 3 pints of local Efes we clocked we would be paying 13.50 Turkish Lira each. That's 6 quid. Per pint. It was a recurring theme throughout the two nights we were there.

Plate 2: Basilica Cistern, an underground reservoir in Istanbul.
Nowt to do with toilets. I think.

Plate 3: Spice Bazaar

Plate 4: Fishing.
That's Asia in the background, through the grey.

Istanbul is really very old. Everyone that's tried to either invade the Middle East from Europe (hello Crusades) or invade Europe from the Middle East (er...this lot from 300?) have passed through here and left a little of themselves. It's age is reflected in the warren-like alleys and lanes in the old city, particularly around the Grand Bazaar and Spice Bazaar. We happened across loads of little squares and yards, and it did reflect an Asian way of building and approach to commerce. Streets would sell the same products - one street specialised in lighting, another in safes and locks, and another in fabrics. So on and so forth.

Plate 5: Minaret & birds

Plate 6: Hagia Sophia. Possibly.
Otherwise it's the Blue Mosque.

We hooked up with an American chap called Ravi and Pascual the Chilean. Ravi had recently sold an internet start-up business which specialised in administration of University sports leagues (showing that not all internet businesses are staid and dull...); Pascual had been representing Chile in a debating competition in Antalya, and was eevrything you should hate about someone - good looking, intelligent, rich and privileged. Except he was a top fella. They were both, in fact, decent fellows and luckily entertained each other as we wandered the streets of Istanbul. Ravi - talking endlessly as Yanks do - insisted on taking all direction and recommendations from Lonely Planet, which resulted in us heading to "the King of Kebabs" in a taxi (8 quid) and spending 24 quid on kebabs. Each. For the hard of reading, that's TWENTY FOUR POUND STERLING. On KEBABS. EACH. Not a garlic or chilli sauce in sight neither. Shortly after that (well, during the 8 quid taxi ride back to the hostel actually) I decided not to listen to Ravi again during my time in Istanbul, or indeed ever, should we meet again. Which we won't.

And that was pretty much Istanbul. Expensive (needlessly pretty much), cool, and worth a visit should you fancy it. The following day we were off to Mumbai!