I walked in the door of my house about 8:30 last evening, about 25 hours after I walked out the door of my hotel in Istanbul to head to the airport.
To get to the airport, I took a tram, then two metro rides, all easy other than the suitcase I had acquired to carry my treasures.
I ate breakfast in the lounge, which overlooks the large shopping areas, familiar this time as I had spent my first night in the Yotel just down the way a bit. I knew exactly where the coffee station was, for instance.
We flew over Santa Rosa on our way in, and dipped around the Golden Gate, and then I was on the ground. I was unable to stay awake on the airporter bus but still crashed soon after I got home. This morning I decided to carry on just a little longer as if I were still traveling, hoping that it will help keep me awake today. And now I can’t help planning the next trip.
One of my favorite things in Istanbul is to wander and look at the combination of ancient history and everyday life. I spent time on both the European and Asian sides, rode trains, trams, the Marmaray that connects the continents underwater, ferries, cable cars, and walked endlessly.
I am fascinated by the porters and means of moving goods in spaces that are too narrow for trucks. The large white bags with the twin tails on top were a common sight. The person who would carry them would reach behind and grab a tail in each hand, and then heft the burden on their back. Or the heavy duty hand trucks might be used, up steep hills, and threading their way through crowded, narrow and bumpy streets.
There are many, many street cats in Istanbul, although they nearly all looked well fed and content. They seem to be collectively adopted by various neighbors, and I saw multiple instances of cat food being left out for them. So much of the eating is done outside in good weather, it becomes necessary to watch out for cats who clearly feel comfortable joining your meal.
Smoking is big here, really big. People smoke everywhere, inside and out. It seems likely there will be a health toll to pay in coming years, but at present it is so much a part of the social scene to sit at streetside cafes, drink tea or coffee, and smoke while you people watch, chat with friends, or read. In Tunisia it was always only men sitting there with chairs facing the street next to low tables, all in a row. Here in Istanbul, it is a more mixed crowd, and the configuration of tables makes the focus a little less on the passersby.
I spent the last two days seeing what I could see of Istanbul. Thursday I went on a food tour with Culinary Backstreets, which included a lot more than food. We spent our time in and around the Grand Bazaar, where I have been a couple of times. But what I saw today I could never have discovered on my own. We went down little side ways, up and down stairs, wound our way through several kans, watched a silversmith and a goldsmith, and several other artisans at work. We met an old man who couldn’t give our guide time to interpret what he was saying, so excited he was to talk. He is Armenian, and came to Istanbul at about 8 years old as an immigrant, without papers. He is an old man now, with 7 children scattered in various places.
One of the overarching, though accidental, themes of today was the great variety of origin of so many we met, from our tour guide on. He is originally from Belgium, but has lived in Turkey for many years. Many of the artisans apparently come from other countries mostly in the European continent. Another person in our 7 person group is American but has lived in Istanbul for 14 years. We started the tour by meeting our guide Benoit and each other in a han near the Grand Bazaar that was once a madrassa. We tried a couple kinds of bread, some water buffalo clotted cream, honey, olives, and cheeses, along with the ubiquitous tea.
From there we walked in a circuitous fashion, hither and yon. The Grand Bazaar is huge. While it started as a central caravanserai or han, it is now a sprawling mass of gradually added hans and outbuildings. At one point we climbed narrow winding stone steps up to a rooftop restaurant, where Benoit showed us the general layout. He also told us this is where the scene from the James Bond movie Skyfall had been filmed.
The food itself was delicious and varied, but just as interesting were the shop owners, many of whom were second or third generation owners.
We visited some workshops of goldsmiths, silversmiths, and other artisans, and wandered through the section of the bazaar that Benoit says handles a tremendous amount of gold and currency daily, more so than the central bank here does. He pointed out the strong boxes on wheels that are used to transport such valuable merchandise, and the apparent low level of security.
The hans are of varying ages, but all quite old by our standards. At one point, the area below would have been where the animals were stabled.
Not being sure of the process for international flights out of Tunis, and being one of those people who likes to be early, I was packed and ready by 6:30, so I wandered out a few blocks til I found an open coffee shop, where I plotted my course from the Istanbul airport to my hotel.
I did my best to spend the rest of my Tunisian dinar, it being illegal to take Tunisian currency out of the country, and then no one ever even asked. I entertained myself taking photos on the flight.
Istanbul has things dialed in, from immigration and customs, to esims and ATMs or exchange, and transportation. Having been here a couple of times, it feels a little familiar, although the airport is new since I last was here. The transit to my hotel was therefore longer as well, requiring two metro trains and one tram, and a lot of walking between parts of huge metro stations. Even so, it was well signed, and other than accidentally making the trip during commute hours, it was very doable. Even on packed trains, I never felt anything other than just part of the herd.
I’ve landed in an interesting neighborhood that the map calls Kumpaci, in what is known as the Zeytinburnu district. There seems to be all manner of things going on here, creating an area of a few blocks where you can find most things you need, from groceries to hardware. I stumbled on a small section of the old wall that existed when this city was known as Constantinople, heard a sewing machine humming in an upper window, and saw men sitting around small low tables, drinking coffee and smoking.
I have only two days here this time, so I have a short list of adventures planned. It’s now 10 hours different from home, which will no doubt compound the looming jet lag.
Tomorrow morning I fly to Istanbul for a few days before heading home. I spent today doing a little wandering, shopping and packing, and now I find myself at loose ends, lacking the time to do anything but with a few hours free. Despite that I’m traveling alone, I feel peopled out today from the endless crowds in the markets and the elevated watchfulness required by the cobbled side streets and endless traffic. The cars (so far) don’t actually hit you, but they wait until the last minute to give way sometimes. It’s all entertaining and slightly tiring.
It’s illegal to take any Tunisian currency out of the country, and I hear that is strictly enforced. So I’m trying to use the last of my dinars, setting aside some for the taxi tomorrow. This leaves me with a budget of about 30 dinar for dinner this evening.
Things seen on my quest for coffee and food this morning. I spent the night in Hergla, a small town on the Mediterranean. I saw some men working on their nets, wandered through an old cemetery, but alas found no coffee shop open for business. There was one of the cafes that serve only coffee where the men sit and smoke, but I also wanted food.
The place I stayed is a part of a sort of stacked set of apartments and courtyards, and to get in I had been told to call when I arrived. The man who answered spoke no English and I began to wonder about my odds of having a bed for the night. Then suddenly he popped out the door with the phone to his ear, and I stood there with my phone to my ear. The hosts were a pleasant older couple with whom I communicated mostly in mime and mutual smiles. I was happy to discover it had a washing machine.
On my way out for the above mentioned search, Google maps took me down this path just as the sheep and goats were moving to their grazing spot.
I turn in the rental car today, which I will be glad to do. That being said, there is no way I would have seen so much without a car. From a multi-lane toll road to dirt trails, and in tight narrow streets to winding rural roads, it’s been nearly always fascinating.
Yesterday as I traveled north on the toll road, I was surprised to see a presence beneath many overpasses. Looking closer, I saw that these were vendors, selling drinks and snacks.
I won’t be sorry to be done with the frequent police checkpoints. I was only pulled over a few times, although there were many that waved me on. Each time they spoke to me in French, and I responded in English. At the first stop, I tried to find out what they needed, offering ‘passport’? But it became clear that they didn’t want to bother with me, and for once I had the sense not to pull up Google translate and try to be helpful.
There were many, many speedbumps in each of the frequent small towns and minor clusters of buildings that the roads took me through, which made it easier to gawk as I passed through.
Today I fully moved into desert, first with a drive across Chott el Djerid, a large salt lake, which apparently has water in it during certain seasons. When I stopped to take a closer look, it took a sustained effort to open my door against the wind. There is a large salt mining operation in one place, and a few tourist stops as well, although no one seemed to be around to sell things. Perhaps it was the wind. I foolishly opened my windows from time to time, so now of course there is sand everywhere.
I finally saw the hoped for camels, and then the wind picked up again. When the road started to drift over with sand, it occurred to me that I hadn’t seen other cars for a while, and I wondered if that was because they knew something I didn’t. I thought about turning around, but in the end kept going, and after a while the sky cleared a little, and the rocks that rose up out of the desert provided some wind break as well.
This afternoon as I arrived in Tataouine, the rain came for the first time other than a short nighttime rain a week ago. Already it has passed, and I’m off in search of some dinner.
I closed out the day yesterday too tired to post anything, and also unable to put together anything remotely true and digestible about the Roman and Punic ruins I saw. I went to Bulla Reglia, then on to Chemtou, and then Dougga, and it was just a little too much. Plus, this part of the globe has been inhabited by humans for so long, that making sense of the history is beyond me. What we refer to now as Bulla Regia was founded by the Numids, probably around the 4th century BCE. At some point the Carthaginians controlled at least part of this area, and then after the second Punic war, the Romans controlled it, initially via Massinissa, a descendant of the Berber sovereigns, and sometimes as a client state. Dougga, which is a massive 27 hectare site, was also founded by the Numids, and controlled by the same Massinissa. Later it was at least partially abandoned due to the Vandal invasion. Even that much is an oversimplification, and leaves off those peoples who came before and after.
The ruins are awe inspiring, and yet I confess to finding delight in everyday scenes. I saw a shepherd moving his flock through Dougga and thought that perhaps for those who live here, the ruins are just the everyday background to their lives.
Today I had a long drive, so as soon as I had eaten breakfast I took off. Between me and Google maps I ended up threading my way through what could only have been the town’s weekly market day. I found myself trapped in a very slowly moving parade of cars, with pedestrians, trucks, and motorcycles moving in and out. I wish I could say that I relaxed and just enjoyed the experience, but to be honest, I was envisioning me hurting a child or old person, and while it surely must happen, I dearly did not want it to happen with the car I was driving. So I sat right on the bumper of the vehicle in front of me, and white knuckled my way through first the live animals, then vegetables and fruit, linens, housewares, and then a sort of free for all of mixed tables and booths. It seemed endless, but of course it probably only took about 10 minutes.
I have found that with some regularity I need to seek out gas (fuel here) and an ATM, a word that is not known here. (I haven’t figured out what word to use, so now I just look for a bank). So while I was looking for a bank that seemed likely to have an ATM, Google maps took me on an exciting journey down a single lane street with traffic going both ways. Once again, I got right behind the car in front of me, and just stuck to them like glue until at last we emerged onto a wider street, and a bank, and even a parking spot in the shade. It was while I was getting cash that this parade of young men came through, Club Africaan fans whose soccer team had a game. Soccer, or futbol, is big here, with big rivalries that I keep hearing about.
I stopped for lunch in a small town where by first establishing that I wanted bread with things, we used a point and respond system to build me a sandwich. I continued south, and the landscape changed fairly quickly. I don’t know exactly how hot it was this afternoon, but when I checked about 5:30, it was 96.
the drive through the marketThere are a lot of date farms in this areaHome for the night
I stopped in a small town for something to eat, leaving my car in a shady spot. Ordering lunch meant a little use of Google translate to establish that I wanted ‘bread with things’ and then the man helping me just pointed to things and I nodded or shook my head. It ended up being a fried egg, some kind of canned fish, spicy sauce, cheese and greens on a half baguette. I stopped of for some water and other snacks at what we would call a bodega, maybe 8 x 10 feet in size. When I walked back to the car I saw a woman in a doorway who seemed to have noticed me, but who disappeared as I came closer. I sat in my car for a moment collecting myself and I saw her coming to my passenger window. She held out her hands with smiles, and words I didn’t know, and handed me these.
To see what I could see 