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!
Sunday, 27 September 2009
Day 2 Istanbul - on the road to Damascus
Saturday, 26 September 2009
Day 1 Istanbul - on the road to Damascus
Last minute panic packing and bed by midnight.
Slept ok but awoke to techno alarm at stupid-o-clock and for once in my long snooze driven life I skipped the snooze button and jumpt out of bed - ok so it was more of a roll and a thump. Transit to airport issue free I arrived 2 hours early! ouch! Another first, no last minute check in and dash for the plane. Made a change but an extra 30mins of sleep would have been nice.
Flight was dominated by a rather over assertive Turkish woman who butted in on every conversation and was in attack mode if anyone should nudge or rattle her seat in the slightest. Negotiated taxi share downtown but skipped the usual do you want to hookup later as the girl's dude was way too moody for my liking.
Hotel basic but right in the thick of it. Had an hours nap to shake off the travel headache then took a walk up Beyoglu to take in the Saturday night throng. Think Oxford Street without traffic, without alcohol and without the attitude... in fact, forget oxford street, not enough puke, lost clothing or broken high heals for that matter.
Reached Taksim square, which is a bit like Times Square meets Trafalgar Square meets Champs de Lise (sp?) meets Mexıco Cıty and frogger all rolled into one... traffic dodging is the national sport here and it would have been rude not to have a go - thank the stars for my new bouncy walking shoes :)
Back home to bed by 1am.
Sunday, 13 September 2009
10 Days and Counting
Ten long days until I'm back on the road for 21 days!
This is for those of you who'll be following my blog and have asked me for my itinerary... I tend to draft a very optomistic itinerary and then just go with the road. So dont take this as any more of a wants list:
Sept 26: London > Istanbul [TURKEY]
Sept 26 – 29: Istanbul (2 days)
Sept 29: Istanbul > Sanliurfa
Sept 29 – Oct 01: Sanliurfa + Harran (2 days)
Oct 01: Harran > Raqqa > Aleppo [SYRIA]
Oct 01 - 04: Aleppo (3 days)
Oct 04: Aleppo > Damascus
Oct 04 – 08: Damascus (4 days)
Oct 08: Damascus > Beirut [LEBANON]
Oct 08 – 11: Beirut (3 days)
Oct 11: Beirut > Tripoli [If time permits]
Oct 11 - 13: Tripoli (2 days) [If time permits]
Oct 13: Tripoli > Lattakia [SYRIA] [If time permits]
Oct 13 – 15: Lattakia (2 days) [If time permits]
Oct 15: Lattakia > Antakya [TURKEY]
Oct 15 – 16: Antakya [1 day]
Oct 16: Antakya – Istanbul
Oct 17: Istanbul – London [UK]
CANT WAIT!!!!
Wednesday, 29 July 2009
A Religious Experience!
This is for those of you who have been asking for a pitiful photo of me doing my impression of a one armed bandit. I went under the knife on 24th July to have some pretty arcane slicing and dicing done on my shoulder called a Arthroscopic Subacromial Decompression and ACJ Excision. To cut a long story short, I had some bone shaven off the shoulder bone and my bicep tendon cut, shortened and screwed into a hole drilled into my upper arm, Nice!
The surgery isn't for the faint hearted, but thank the stars for modern pain killers! But after years of injury and reinjury and the final straw being a snowboard accident at Xmas, which has left me in constant pain for the last 7 months, there weren't many options left open to me.
With my days dominated by the all important pill popping at 12 noon, 6pm, 12 midnight and 6am I began to feel almost normal, until that is I try to do basic maths, remember a telephone number or talk to people on the phone and notice what a struggle it all is and how slurred and labored my speech is! good drugs! Closest thing to a religious experience I've ever had!
Only 5 weeks one armed to go! Not looking forward to the physio though.
For those not squeamish click on the 'Read more...' link below for the graphic shot...
Tuesday, 28 July 2009
Birthday Bash Pics!
Finally I have gotten around to finish downloading and editing the pics from my birthday party back in March... I know I know its been 4 months but I've endured a post party hangover from hell, lurgy my Canuk friends brought over with them, various other Canadian visitors, my old computer going to silicon heaven, work going all crazy busy and life's generally getting in the way of late.
It's finally taken surgery and enforced recuperation leave to get me to this point, so its been tough being 40 thus far... It's hard being me!
The pic is the full size version for those of you that want to print it out as a souvenir.
Wednesday, 1 April 2009
G20 London
[After much scanning of web forums and the internet I have decided to pixelate the faces of the police officers in the above photo. As far as I can tell UK anti-terror laws now prohibit the publishing of photographs of police officers for whatever purpose, I therefore have no option other than pixelate or remove this image to comply with UK law]
The G20 meeting in London has been hailed as a success by the media, but what if anything has improved for the ordinary people who have lost their jobs and face the prospect of being long term unemployed and having their homes repossessed?
A protest to the Bank of England on April 1 (nick names ‘Banking Fools’ day by the protestors) attracted a mostly peaceful crowd and a festival atmosphere until a few anarchists, and other trouble-makers bent on causing damage, took events to another level, daubing graffiti and attacking the Royal Bank of Scotland on Threadneedle Street adjacent to the Bank of England. The protests were nothing like those seen during the Poll Tax riots of the 1980s but they received similar press coverage, and probably rightly so given the magnitude of the G20’s importance and there were a lot of issues at play here, with the rhetoric from environmentalists, anti-capitalists and anarchists (to name a few) promising some degree of conflict.
Many protesters were wounded and arrested as the police seemed to employed a strike first strategy (after the crowd swell became threatening by its mere size) that saw hard core protestors, innocent bystanders and media alike pulled into the scuffles. Targeted extractions of individuals by snatch quads of police in riot gear also raised the heat and seemed to increase the resolve of the few trouble makers to cause more damage by setting fire to a mannequin of a banker hanged from a traffic light and a newspaper recycle box – obviously not your confident anarchist, resorting to acts of defiance rather than protest and taking a public stand – but they did achieve some of what they were after – by making a nuisance of themselves and attracting the media’s attention (at times it seemed like photographers, official and unofficial, outnumberd the protesters). After several hours waiting to be released from their open air detention, some protestors resorted to building a campfire to keep warm in the increasingly chilly evening.
The exit from the imposed open air detention began around 9pm in the evening. All those contained were let out through a narrow corridor of police vans in single file, past police cameras and police dogs. Protestors identified as trouble makers, challenged authority or organising and inflaming the crowds were arrested (including those who started the camp fire).
Did the media attention incite the protestors to act out? I think no, there were more photographers and media in the crowds at the time of the troubles than there were protestors. From my witness of the few vocal trouble makers, they were intent on doing their will with or without the media in attendanceand the media were targets of the protestors violence too. The biggest threat to the media and photographers were the protestors direct threats and attacks, they were not seen as a tool, but one of the guilty targets. Would there have been the same conditions for the few hardcore protestors to use the crowd as a tool and as a shield between them and the police if there where less photographers in the crowd? I think maybe not.
Friday, 27 March 2009
40 Isn't Old, If Youre a Tree!
It’s with great surprise and a characteristic lack of pride that I can reveal The Dougal has made it to the ripe old age of 40 in one piece. I'm in that inbetween world where I'm not young enough to know everyting nor old enough to not care anymore. I seem to have found that inbetween worlds niche for myself for much of my life, so why be any different now?
I have the acne scars to prove I was young once (Who told me my teenage acne would eventually disappear? Blatant lie!), a lot less hair and the psychological scars to prove I’ve lived, loved and lost; not necessarily in that order.
It’s probably a cliché, but when this picture was taken I really didn't think I would ever make it to 40. I'm a bit of a thinker, with even that simple and (if you think about it) bizarre concept of that most human of activities, car travel, causing years of thought - we do after all hurl ourselves at incredible speed down strips of tarmac in a tin can with a tank of highly flammable liquid strapped to the back... What?!?! So the concept of living with myself (trust me, its not that easy) - still a scary thought - for another 20 years was a daunting and somewhat incredible idea.
But here I am all the same. With all that define me, my acne and psychological scarring, enough eccentricity to infuriate my friends (my rule is I only have eccentric or plain mad friends anyway so they have no room to talk! – normal people are so unpredictable!) and a lot less hair.
The big bash was a success (thus breaking the 40 year tradition of trying to ignore my birthdays by hiding), so thanks for all for coming along and making it one to remember - especially Dino and Gilbert for flying in from Canada. Look out for the pictures I add here in the next few weeks, once I've found the time to root through and put the mosaic of everyone’s drunken portrait together.
Here's hoping I make it to the next big one without losing any more hair and let’s hope I can stand living with myself for that long, because it is hard being me!
