It really was mosquito time in the superlative, but we each of us made our bed and slept in it. I had gone for a swim, so at least there's that, too.
Technical difficulties and the sodding sod's law of tyres meant that this tyre had to go. But who leaves a tyre to get to this state of disrepair anyway? A damned fool, that's who. It's calling out for love!
In Çorlu, we ate kebabs as long as our arms, and were ecstatic. Then we stayed in a HOTEL, which was plush. I got a new tyre, a trunkload of baklava and snacks galore. Tomorrow we set sail for the Bul, for a metropolis of 14 million and for Asia.
In Istanbul, Jörg left us and we spent 6 days eating fresh balik ekmek (fish sandwich), rice pudding, cucumber and tomato, fried bread with honey, dondurma (sticky ice cream. They do a show. Seen one, seen em all) and of course baklava. We went to an island where aristocratic persons used to be exiled and swam there with the black seabirds, discovered a real life museum, a site of rich modern historical content and dust. We laughed.
On the Asian side, across the steaming Bosphorous. We looked up, and down, and found much to enjoy! We like the Asian side.
Our first time across was when Batar hustled us over on a ferry and led us into a hamam. We had the full treatment, exhilarating and very soapy. Handsy and refreshing.
Much construction work going on in the Sultan Ahmet Mosque and Hagia Sophia, and the cistern too. But that didn't faze us! We ran around like happy hinneys, learning all about History. History is what happens when cereal boxes are left out overnight and collect from the dripping imaginations of the stars.
Abandoned shadows hold fire like a doosey. A strong dose of heaven lies at the end of every banana, and porridge will be the last creature on earth once all the nuclear fallout has cleared.
A disused hospital holds more immediate and tangible history than all the touristic spots in Istanbul, though maybe not combined. It is accessible, untouched, dusty with excess and ex-life, ex-use. There is the smell of human activity. Toby and I both got cuts, matching cuts, on the way out - not on syringes, but on a fence. We were touched by, interacted with, a depth of historical life unknown to visitors of the Hagia Sophia. Only took six years to build? Are you having me on?? A myth, says Jones, and I'm incinerate to agree. Aflame to a tree.
The stairs ascended to a plane just above the level of the clouds. Yes, a plane. How could it be true? Well, it's happened to you. Up there, where vultures circle, you feel like your life is a breath away from being snatched. It's the same as when you're hurtling down a hill at 60km/h and the canyon rises on both sides, flanks you like a parting sea, and seems to beckon you towards its base, a basin which has no bottom. Incidentally, there's a hole in my padded shorts, just above my bottom. It's no big deal, except that I've been told in non uncertain terms that padded shorts are to be worn without underwear. That's the point, says Alex, who is a certified bike guy and serviced my bike for no more than a smile and even chucked some fresh handbar tape in so... now Elbe's fresh as a whistle.
In Foça, I saw an old pal of school days, a man of viking descent possibly and with excellent taste in Greek restaurants. We ate bream, and it was subleam, or seablime.
For the last few nights I've been in Izmir, cooshed in the warm bosom of a Spanish Turkish duo, whose welcome and warmth have been second to none and very delightful. A gorious week full of Turkish delights, including Turkish Delight and dancing about in the Med. I leave tomorrow with a happy heart and a good tummy.
Now, I'm going to make a strawberry salad.
Eat food, not too much, mostly plants.
Love to all the family. X
So good to get some news! So good that you're having a good time despite your tyre and your shorts. x
ReplyDeleteBrilliant Bruno!
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