Buses and Fun, Fun, Fun (2 of 2)

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The next bus was a luxury pullman job, no smoking except for the driver and travelled quickly over new motorways towards the mountains and every so often pass hills with castles on top of them. The climb up from Adana to Ankara was very similar to those pictures you see of Canada with all the fir trees and snow and cloud wisping lightly across the peaks. It was some of the nicest scenery I have seen anywhere and not what I expected for southern Turkey.

Soon the main railway came in and then both it and the road followed each other through a narrow and deep gorge, with frozen waterfalls and rushing pools. The train line was all tunnels, stone bridges and an awesome piece of engineering that blended into the landscape, whereas the road was a blight upon it with its four lanes and belching trucks. One train was passed with one loco at the front, one at the back pushing a long load of ore wagons up.

Later we stopped at numerous roadhouses which, like anywhere in the world, were a gross exercise in extortion so we starved in protest. A little after one of these stops the bus pulled over to prevent a fast developing fight between the Syrians and Turkish over the music choice. It could have been quite nasty.

The night wore on. Passing through the earthquake area there were many slow deviations where much of the road vanished into gaping holes or down the hillsides. I passed out and awoke in Istanbul. Found we were much closer to where I wanted to be when first thought so when the bus stopped and everyone wanted their luggage it developed into a mass shouting match at 5.00am as the crew could not retrieve it fast enough.

Headed off to the tramway station. Not knowing how to make sense of the ticket machine, I simply rode it for free to the area of the Blue mosque. In the early morning light and mist and peace it was an ethereal sight of another world. Soon the howling of the prayers shattered the piece and quiet.

After much trudging ended up the main backpackers area, which was specifically geared for the alcoholic and partying traveller in mind and the so called cheap restaurants were priced more than the ripoff roadhouses.

This tourist dive was not my scene so after another long walk I found an obscure hideaway in an untouched area of town where all the markets were. For $5 a night I had a view right over the harbour and the ships. For us train people, the main line to Greece and Bulgeria is 5 minutes down the street and the hotel owner provides a kitchen and free potatoes, oil etc for as many chips as you can eat. And the beer comes from the warehouse so is next to nothing.

Welcome to Istanbul.

Read Part One of Buses and Fun, Fun, Fun


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