Text 4957, 79 rader
Skriven 2010-12-14 17:39:00 av MICHAEL LOO (1:123/140)
Ärende: trip 884
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Up early, and guess what, no rain. So we trudged up the hill
to Yeniceriler Cadessi, the road at the northern boundary
of Sultanahmet, where there was cell service, and tried to
get in touch as previously agreed with our friends Stacey, Yen,
Lori, and Greg. Telephone problems scotched this plan for a
while, but thanks to intermittent signal and much persistance
we eventually met at the Blue Mosque. Stacey had found this
Ihsan guy (besttaxidriver.com), who had been Anthony Bourdain's
driver for the No Reservations Istanbul: he was quite a showboat,
perhaps naturally high, talking ninety miles an hour and
driving almost that fast; later on his status was upgraded
to a bit of a madman as he chatted, showed us where we were
on the map, and did a facsimile of a belly dance, all while
driving top speed and with no hands or other visible means
of support on the wheel. Other than seeming to be on
constant audition for a TV presenter spot, and ignoring the
apparently obligatory show of Mediterranean libido, which
got a little silly at times, he was pretty amusing.

After admiring the wonderful architecture and ceramics of
the Blue Mosque, we headed the few steps north to Hagia
Sophia, where we were allotted half an hour or so, a really
insufficient time (one could spend all day there marveling
at the architecture of the place and oohing and ahhing at
the Byzantine art and the Islamic accretions). Steep, worn
steps and insufficient lighting provided a hazard for the
old and infirm, in which company I count myself, but the
glories were well worth the rather high admission price
and the adventure.

From which Ihsan led us (on foot) down one of the shopping
streets and ended up, not surprisingly, at a rug shop, name
redacted to protect the innocent, where we were treated to
the rug version of a fashion show. Surprisingly, the
quality, selection, and price were all good, and the sell
was not hard. Nonetheless, I don't thrill easily to the
routine of apple tea, historical lecture, demonstration,
lecture on why our stuff is better than anyone else's, and
showroom. Okay, a guy's gotta make a lira, but.

Ihsan pointed us in the direction of the Grand Bazaar and
essentially said, walk this way, which we did, and he would
pick us up at one of the gates in an hour or something. I'm
not fond of shopping or of large noisy enclosed spaces, so
the time allotted was more than ample; luckily Stacey
thought to take us to a lokoum shop, much more my style,
and we sampled and bought various kinds of sweets - I got
100 g of prepackaged halvah, which I offered around; but
people said, like, no, you try my halvah (hand cut from the
big block in the window); and it turned out to be the same,
except that mine was marginally fresher, being packed for
travel. Some of the lokoums were interesting.

Back through the purgatory of the Bazaar, where I tried to
lead us in the most expeditious way to the exit, but certain
of us reveled in the experience and tried to lead us astray.
I think plans were made for future investigations of various
shops, corridors, and districts at a future date. Ihsan's
smiling face was there to greet us; he enthusiastically
drove/guided us around town for a while before giving us
two choices for lunch; first he poked into a divey-looking
place, where I would have been happy to eat, but almost
without stopping turned around and drove us to what he
characterized as a somewhat nicer place called Yildiz,
which seemed to be a foregone conclusion and where he
seemed to be well known. It was a pretty good choice:
we were first served big sheets of puffed pocket bread
and a pillowy round bread, both nice, with various dip
things. Most of us ordered variations on doner, for what I
thought too much money: they were good, though. Bucking the
trend, I had cig kofte, a very heavily paprikaed version of
raw kibbe, and icli kofte, fried doughballs filled with
ground meat. I enjoyed my foray into the unfamiliar, washed
down with cherry juice (far more enjoyable than that turnip
juice at the other kebap place).

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