Below Belief

We rise late and breakfast in style as the sun rises over the bay. Feel a little like we’re taking part in a Bacardi ad. Certainly the Australian girls we are sharing our room with have been cast as unacceptably gorgeous and totally inaccessible.
At the covered bazaar we dive headlong into the bartering, haggling world of Istanbul and just about avoid making expensive carpet purchases on the Barclaycard. We don’t get away completely without buying though. Chris purchases a colourful – okay, loud – ethnic top which is arguably made of camel hair and gives him a certain Chris Bayliss look. I am persuaded to buy a marble chess set which is too ornamental to play on and way too heavy to carry through customs. It proves to be a complete mistake because Chris promptly hammers me at Chess.
Over a few beers we plan the rest of our trip. It seems to be evolving into a coach journey to Marmaris on the south coast, stay for a few days and then take the ferry to Rhodes, a Greek island where flights home ought to be cheap. Agree to try to advance book a ticket so we guarantee ourselves a way out. Time is getting short now.
We cross the Gelata bridge and take the lift up the tallest tower in Istanbul, for an expensive but worthwhile view across the smog obscured river to the mosques and minarets dotting the opposite bank. The chaotic arrangements of tiled roofs beneath us, crammed into every last space, seem to sum up Istanbul for me. It is 5.30pm and still burning hot.

This entry was posted on Saturday, August 31st, 1996 at 2:18 pm and is filed under Europe. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can skip to the end and leave a response. Pinging is currently not allowed.