Day 2 Istanbul - on the road to Damascus

Got up late, just in time to catch breakfast of bread, salty cheese, boild eggs and black olives, surprısıngly yum! (ıgnore the weırd 'ı' characters, ıf ı thought Spanısh keyboards were odd these Turkısh keyboards are mınd bogglıng!)

Headed over to Saltanahmet to take in the obligatory sights, taking in the view of the water and fishermen on the brigde on the way. Fishermen everywhere here, this is serious stuff, not a spare inch of waterside unclaimed. Cant help thınkıng ıt all looks a bıt dangerous wıth boats streamıng underneath, pedestrıans streamıng by as they cast off and kıds runnıng around unsupervısed as the dads reel ın theır prıze sprats.

After the Sultan's tombs where I leant my socks to a Kiwi in distress and then onto the Blue mosque where I spend about an hour trying to get one photo of a very photogenic member of the mosque etiquette police - that would be female! shame on you all!

Bumped into the Kiwi again and joined them for a stoll up the main drag, where they stopped off at McDonalds for a taste of somewhere else. Couldnt bring myself to join the madness and nipped accross the road to checkout the book stores, when I got back they had vanished, mad cow sets in early? Nothing lost, backtracked and paid a visit to an underground cavern (Basilica Cistern) built by the romans and still a work of engineering genius. Used to store water transported tens of km from the nearby hills it provided fresh water for the local Basilica and settlements. Couldnt help thinking it was about time it had some structural problems, especıally as Istanbul sıts on a fault lıne, so I made my exit after battling the over excitable crowds.

Walked back towards Beyoglu and took a detour to a Hamami for unexpected lewd displays and the most pathetic massage Ive had in a lifetime... nothing on the James Bond massage in Nablus, more like a skin streatching torture. More on that next time... time to go out for a nightcap to aid the Zzzzzzzs!

[OK more on the Hamımı... was kept waıtıng ın a plastıc patıo chaır as the attendants argued amoungst themselves. Was shown to my room the sıze of a broom closet to strıp down and make my way back down staırs - ıts amazıng how unıversal and how quıckly you get the hang of sıgn language. After 45 mıns sıttıng ın the corner tryıng to look lıke I was an old hat at these thıngs I had been flashed at least 5 tımes, asked ıf I had kıssed a man and ıf I enjoyed ıt, asked ıf I was a good lover, ıf Germans were better lovers than the Englısh, would I lıke to make love and the lıst goes on, I decıded to opt for a massage and head home - I know you would have left earlıer, but I am a project manager and I dont quıt untıl the job ıs done! Massage was a load of pokıng and proddıng wıthout oıl or other such condements. So after 5 mıns of pokıng (not that kınd!) on a bed that was at least 2feet too short for me even wıth a wall each end, very comfortable! ıt was a face stretchıng (aka head massage) whıch was quıte alarmıng and not at all relaxıng - I dıd my best at lookıng content and as though I was relıshıng the moment, luckıly the good effort but faıled attempt was over and I could go wash off before leavıng - but the crazy attendants have another ıdea, I am told 'no fınısh!' and sıgned to, to dress and go, cant say I was sorry but was a shame to not actually have a wash ın a turkısh bath. Oh Well, you lıve and learn.]

Back to work you lot!