We like to think we’re in control. It’s clear we’re not. Plans. Routes. SatNavs. Might just as well fly out of the window. There are too many other sources of influence that interfere with our deemed outcome.
Day 15 – In real terms, today’s journey to Kamp Rumelifeneri, of 248K, should be a doddle. It’s about 35K north of Istanbul. Situated at the north-east of the European side of Türkiye. It overlooks the Bosphorus Strait, just as it meets the Black Sea. We aim to arrive early afternoon. But don’t. 11K short, our route takes a turn for the worse. We’re not planning to go over the spectacular Yavuz Sultan Selim Bridge – one of the tallest suspension bridges in the world. We cut down right a hundred metres before. A barrier is down. We think it’s a small toll booth. Mrs S readies a note or two. We sidle up towards the window. It isn’t. It’s security. No way down. Police are in action on our chosen road. Because of the very hilly terrain we have only one option. Reverse and go over the bridge. Find a way (easier said than done, but we do), to come back over. 45K and some 90 minutes later we eventually arrive at camp.
We (i) chose this site because the online photo and associated blurb indicates it has the type of facility we like and are used to ‘in Europe’. Not so. Obviously a little self-flattery can drum up customers, like us, in droves. 85% static Turk caravans in permanent occupation.
Day 16 – With Istanbul and it’s famous delights beckoning, we leave early (for us). In fifteen minutes short of two hours, the 150 bus, then M2 Metro, ‘whisk’ us into the heart of tourist-land Istanbul, just before midday and just before we start to resemble a couple of Red Bottomed Baboons. Crowds are out in force – a mix of home grown and foreign. A couple of famous mosques and the Grand Bazaar feature as today’s Turkish Delights.
We gain free entry into the Blue Mosque. A basically circular inner hall means that in little short of a lap, we are in and out in less than twenty-five minutes.
Previously free, in January this year, they introduced charges for the Hagia Sophia. €25 each. It’s evident that some of the internal decor needs it. We suffer an hour’s queue. We’ve come this far, so why not. Then it’s another in and out in thirty minutes. Unlike a cathedral, there is little of interest to consider, other than the internal structure and elaborate paintwork. A scattering of QR codes supply the tech visitors with additional info.
We were pleased to see a couple of sections where some of the original Christian mosaics had been left untouched.
We anticipate more of a Moroccan Souk type of experience from the Grand Bazaar. But not so. It’s no more than an arcadian fantasy. A labyrinth of Jewelry outlets and Turkish Delight shops that predominate the myriad of tunnels. All compete for the cacophony of tourist dollars, as they slowly stream past each doorway.
We come across a couple of other delights of note . . .
It’s getting late. We decide to eat in town. Get drenched by a terrific thunderstorm on exiting the Metro. Made worse by two-ing and froing between our bus connection and the ticket machine, which was unfathomable. Eventually drop back into camp at 9.45pm. 22,000 + steps – a long day – shorter legs?