Dec 7: Flying To Istanbul

(A bit of a warning: I'm probably going to be pretty long and windy in the next few posts. This is partly because it was my first trip ever to a non-Westernized country, so my mental note-taking was in high gear. It's also partly because I had a quite a few adventures in airports and train stations which don't have much in the way of photos to look at. But mostly it's because this is a blog, and the whole fun of blogging is that I can be as long-winded as I damn well please! However, for those who hate reading, I promise there will be plenty of pictures to come, so bear with me.)

I woke up around 7:30 in Brussels and set off for the train station to catch the airport express.

I sometimes read headlines in Dutch newspapers bemoaning their train system which hasn't kept up with the rising ridership numbers (itself a result of the highways being unable to keep up with the rising traffic volume). Well, all I know is this: compared to Belgium's trains, the system in Holland is utopian.

How do I loathe the Belgium train system? Let me count the ways.

Their stations are butt-ugly, looking as if they were built a century ago with a lacklustre maintenance budget. The signs for the stations are too few and spaced too far apart, making it hard to know where you are during daylight, and they're poorly lit, making it impossible to know where you are by twilight. The Belgians are apparently unaware of computer technology, so you are unable to buy a train ticket electronically at any station.

The train schedule charts are printed out on large pieces of paper and basically tacked to the wall like a bulletin board. Whereas the Dutch schedules are organized by lines and connections, the Beligum charts are organized by times. This means that instead of people looking up the chart for their own destination, EVERYBODY is gathered around the exact same chart (the chart for the current time of day) while the rest of the charts are completely free. Furthermore, the charts are placed near the entrance of the station instead of on the platforms, meaning that if you forget the time or platform info for your train you have to walk all the way back to the front of the station. I can't even begin to tell you how annoying this is.

That morning, I saw from the incredibly small and blurry TV information screens that my train to the airport from Brussels-North station was delayed by 15 minutes, then 20, then 25. This wasn't unusual, I gathered, as every other train was also delayed. Thirty seconds before the train arrived it was announced that it was going to arrive at a different platform on the opposite side of the station. Because I had my earphones in, the only way I became aware of this was because of all the people with suitcases fleeing in that direction.

Sigh...

Anyway, I eventually made it to the airport where I met my fellow traveller and partner-in-crime, Lindsay.

Isn't she lovely? I can sometimes convince her to smile nicely.


And so we boarded the plane for Frankfurt.

The plane was--of course!--delayed. The flight had more turbulence than I've ever experienced in my life, and the pilot eventually announced that the reasons for the delay were the extremely strong winds in the area. He also announced that Frankfurt air traffic control had ordered him into a holding pattern over the airport for the time being, further adding to the delay.

For anyone keeping track: so far my train to Brussels was delayed, my train from Brussels to the airport was delayed, and my flight from Brussels to Frankfurt was delayed twice.

I've never felt more naseous on a flight than I did during the landing of that plane. This was partly due to the turbulence, but probably also had something to do with my awareness that the 90 minute buffer I had booked between our connections was dwindling extremely fast.

By the time we made it through passport control at Frankfurt our flight to Istanbul had been scheduled to leave five minutes ago. I was fairly certain it was going to be delayed, but I ran ahead to find our gate.

Fortunately, the flight was delayed by 20 minutes, although we were the last passengers to board the plane. Finally some good luck!

The flight to Istanbul was much better.

Here's the first poster greeting us as we got off the plane.

It's Turkcell, which I gather is a mobile phone company there, and they are friggin' everywhere. If it's a big event in Turkey it's a safe bet that Turkcell is the sponsor of it. I've heard that the Middle East, Africa and Asia has an explosive demand for cell phones, so I guess it's not surprising.

Ataturk International Airport was big and modern but creepily empty when we arrived. Our luggage made it safe and sound, which was my final concern.

We walked up to the Visa counter where a TV screen displayed the prices for different nationalities. I'm not exaggerating: Canada's was at least 4 times as expensive as any other country on that screen, including America. I have absolutely no clue as to the reason for this.

I didn't ask the guy at the counter why Turks hate Canadians. In fact, no questions were asked at all. He took my passport, barked "45 Euros", and then gave me my stamp without looking at my face. What a scam!



I had arranged a shuttle from the airport to our hotel and we met it no problem, although not before a stop at the Duty Free store to stock up on wine. It was about 6:00 in the evening by now and the sun was down.


View Larger Map

The outskirts of Istanbul by night look similar to the outskirts of any North American city--wide roads and neon-lit retail box stores. The only difference was that no driver seemed to know or care about traffic laws. There were cars and trucks all over the roads, merging and diverging as they pleased. I think every major corner had a traffic cop standing beside his car with flashing lights and I began to understand why.

The highway wound along the edge of the Sea of Marmara. Eventually we passed a huge old wall which marked our entry into "Old Istanbul", and for the rest of way we caught glimpses of some half-standing structures and walls that must be hundreds of years old.

Our hotel was a cozy place, clean and modern but also simple and friendly. I spent a long time choosing our hotel over the internet and I think I picked perfectly, if I do say so myself. (I forgot to take a picture of the outside, so this is from the website).



Unpacking...



At around 7:30 we headed out for our first look at the city by night. We hadn't walked a block before we caught site of the Blue Mosque, one of the feature attractions of the city.



The Blue Mosque sits on a big pedestrian mall that is the hub of the tourist area. Along the center of the mall are huge old pillars and columns that mark all that is left of the ancient Hippodrome, Istanbul's colosseum.



As we were standing outside another huge mosque, the Haghia Sofia, a guy came and started asking questions and giving us tourist information. When he finished, he said "Come with me, I have a family business. Let me give you a card."

I had read warnings about this; carpet salesman prowl the tourist district. If someone starts giving you tourist info it's not for altruistic reasons. But I figured this was something we should experience at least once, so we went with him.

Inside the shop he basically forced us to sit down and then had someone bring us apple tea. After a few minutes another guy came out and, after some bullshit chit-chat, started on his carpet pitch. Before long he was pulling out carpet upon carpet, spinning them around, showing them off. Lindsay was unwittingly egging him on by trying to be polite and show interest.


After about 10 carpets were out on the ground I figured it was time to put a stop to this. He acted very offended, which was obviously how they figure they can guilt Western tourists into staying. Fortunately, I'm un-guiltable. Our conversation went something like this:

"Okay, we really need to go eat."

"Go eat? Why don't you just stay five minutes more. Five minutes won't hurt anybody."

"That's what the other guy said five minutes ago!"

"Don't you want to see the carpets?"

"Look, we're not going to be buying any carpets tonight, alright?"

"Why not?"

"Because we're not going to be making any big purchases right now." (the prices of the carpets were in the 150 Euro range)

"It's not a big purchase, these are nice carpets!"

"It doesn't matter how nice they are, it's still a big purchase."

"Why don't you like the carpets?"

"What's the matter with you? I told you I think they're nice, I just don't want to buy one."

"But can't you see the lady wants one? Ask the lady which one she likes the best."

"If the lady wants a carpet she can buy one herself."

At this point I grabbed Lindsay's arm and dragged her out of the shop while she called out "If we do decide to get a carpet we'll keep this store in mind!"

We then set off to find a restaurant. All the restaurants in the area have a guy who stands outside and won't let you pass without looking at the menu. Seriously, we must have looked at about 30 different menus before I finally chose a place. After a light meal we went back to hotel and crashed.

In a way, I really like the fact that the city interacts with you within minutes of hitting the streets. However, this was clearly the tourist district and unrepresentative of the vast majority of the city, and it was clearly going to get annoying if we couldn't go anywhere without having somebody trying to get us into their shop.

[Next Istanbul Post]