THIS WAS CONSTANTINOPLE

27th - 28th Mar 2016

The Blue Mosque (not my photo)

Having semi-sussed out the transport system and got my bearings I managed, by tram, to get across the Golden Horn inlet over the Galata bridge and then took the funicular railway ('tunel' it is called because it's built inside a tunnel) up the steep hill to Sishane. I was met at Sishane by the 'tunel' funicular station entrance and guided to the apartment at which I was to stay. I would never have found it otherwise. It's like a rabbit warren up there, and the smaller street markings are not always clear, if there at all.

After my much needed kip I went out to investigate the Ferikoy 'flea market' which had been recommended, north up the city. I got lost getting there and arrived just as it was closing. I had supper in a local restaurant then set off back to the apartment. I got seriously lost again and, as the owner was away, I had visions of hopelessly roaming the streets all night. Nobody had even heard of the little street I was trying to find. Found it eventually, more by luck than judgement. Navigation was not proving easy.

Left: This little map shows a simple layout of the city. The western, European, side is divided north/south (N & S) by the Golden Horn inlet, and across the Bosphorous Strait is the eastern, Asian, part (E). North up the Bosphorous is the Black Sea and to the south the Sea of Marmara. So that's clear then? Most of the 'touristy' bits are in 'S' and most of the shopping areas and consulates are in 'N'. 'E' holds the enormous and defunct German built Haydarpasa railway station, a big army barracks, and is the place where the hospital was where Florence Nightingale worked during the Crimea War. There is a museum there now. Plus lots more mosques, of course. Shoals of ferries and cruise boats criss-cross the Bosphorous to many staging posts; a bit like the Vaporettos in Venice, sort of.

The place I was staying in had a roof terrace from which this view was taken (right) looking south over the Golden Horn to the Topkapi Palace on the hill opposite.

The maze of little streets in this area contain many tiny but really quite smart shops selling handicrafts, clothes, furniture, arty things etc, plus lots of cafés and restaurants. Good for browsing, and getting lost.

One of the the first places I called in at was the Pera Palace hotel which is at the bottom of the hill in the pic above. This hotel, the oldest in Turkey, was opened in 1895 primarily as a place for passengers on the Orient Express to stay. Agatha Christie apparently stayed there which inspired her to write 'Murder on the Orient Express'. It is an old-fashioned and luxurious place and undoubtedly very expensive. It houses the first electrically powered lift in Turkey (left). Very ornate.

.......and the grand drawing room in which I just managed to afford a cup of coffee.

To the Topkapi Palace, the seat of the Ottoman rulers of old. It covers a large area with many buildings including the Harem annex. Left: The main entrance.











Right: A model of the Palace grounds is on display to give you an idea of the layout. I only saw parts of it as there were too many rooms and pavilions which, to the untrained eye, looked remarkably alike. Once you've seen one you've seen them all, I began to think.
















Lots of eleborated tiling and plasterwork.......













...with pavilions and water features

...and one room which took my interest, the Circumcision Room.......

....which contained, other than elaborate ancient tiling, stained glass windows and a security guard, not much else.

Left: Another elaborately tiled room (blue iznik tiles, I was informed)  with, I presume, a nice fireplace; either that or the storage space for an ancient Ottoman ICBM.

You have to pay another entrance fee to tour the Harem complex. This is a large annex of the Palace and contained, again,  many sumptuosly decorated rooms. The chief wife of the Sultan/ Emperor/Sheik/Grand Vizier/Emir/Caliph/

Taoseach or whatever the head-honcho was titled, ran this establishment with  a proverbial rod of iron and she was a very powerful lady in her own right.

Left: This is the central salon where His Nibs entertained, or was entertained by, the ladies of the harem. I expect they played a lot of Scrabble, or strip poker.

At the exit to the Harem was a room where this Mullah chappie was 'tunefully' warbling passages of the Koran into a microphone and blasting it out to departing visitors. Well I suppose it was that or, for all I know, it could have been the local football results.

Left: Then on to the Aya Sophia mosque nearby. This is renowned for it's architecture. Originally a Christian church in Byzantium times (from 573 AD), it was converted into a mosque by the Ottomans who arrived uninvited in 1453. 

Right: It had the builders and decorators in. I believe they have had the scaffolding up for the past 20 years. Sounds like they employed some cowboy builders (Mustafa Phag & Co 'Mosques our Speciality') to do the job who are being paid by the hour.

Underneath the Ottoman Muslim plasterwork designs some of the original Christian paintings of Jesus Chist etc. have been revealed in very good nick and are on view during the renovations. If you click to enlarge you can see them on the wall in the distance.

Next on the agenda, and again nearby, are the Basilica Cisterns (right); a popular tourist site. This expansive underground vault contained the Palace water supply from the early Byzantine days. It is dank and dripping down there and atmospherically lit by lots of little lights. The reservoir is crossed by very wet and slippery wooden walkways. The water was teeming with carp and I jolly nearly joined them on several occasions.

At the far end are two pillars, on the bases of which are carvings of the head of Medusa (she with snakes for hair and if you looked at her you were turned to stone). One was upside down (left) and the other on it's side. There is some mystery about the significance of these carvings. I suspect it was the ancestors of that well established firm of dodgy builders, Mustafa Phag & Co, who did the work and got the specifications wrong.

For some reason, near the entrance, there is a 'facility' where you can dress up in ancient traditional costume and have your photo taken, as per these people (right). Some punters obviously like to pay good money to look like prats.

After that I was feeling a bit peckish. There are hundreds of little stalls and carts, all over the city in fact, from which are sold chestnuts and corn-on-the -cob. I decided to try a tasty looking corn cob. It was like eating rubber and tasted similar. On the other hand, the chestnuts were delicious. Useful info if you are visiting.

Next up, and again nearby, is the famed Blue Mosque (left). It has six minarets which, I think, is the most around any mosque. Actually I only saw five. I then noticed that one of them had been semi-demolished and the stub remaining had scaffolding around it. Presumably being rebuilt.....and hopefully not by our old friends Messrs Mustafa Phag & Co.

Inside was as per most mosques, I presume, but maybe a bit larger. Plenty of carpet space for the Faithful to kneel down to pray. To one side was a small office which advertised itself as an 'Islamic Information Centre - Come In', it read. I might have done but it was closed.

I must admit, the architecture was impressive and imposing............ 

....however I didn't notice anything particularly 'blue' about it. Except for the tiled edging around the inside of the central dome.

After this I went for a light snack in a nearby café, selected on the basis that it served beer which many around here do not. While there one of the frequent wailing 'calls to prayer' rang out. These calls, from banks of mega-watt loudspeakers on the minarets, are deafeningly loud if you are close to them, ie within half a mile.  When one mosque stops another replies. It rattled the glasses. I couldn't help think what fun you could have if you managed to get control of the microphone. The mind boggles, but I suspect a few good jokes followed by a rendition of 'Four and Twenty Virgins Went to Inverness' would not go down terribly well amongst the locals.

All these minarets brought to mind a good name for a local pop group, 'Micky Mehmet and the Minarettes' perhaps. As it happened I passed a group of chaps singing in the street (left). As you can see, they are attired in the quaint traditional Turkish costume; black leather jackets, and unshaven.

I was also told that, originally, most of the houses in Istanbul were built of wood. This was as a precaution against earthquakes. I expect they provided little protection against fire however. Quite a few still remain (right).

Another interesting feature of the city is the preponderance of cats. They are everywhere. People seem to treat them with the same reverence as they do with cows in India. Mostly they are mollycoddled pets, but even the feral ones are sympathetically tolerated. Not sure of the reason for this.........

......and gun shops are quite popular. Possibly patronised by a minority group of violent activists who don't like cats.

So much to see in this city, and what little I have seen so far is hardly scratching the surface. Publication of these blogs has been somewhat delayed due to the fact that, other than touristing, I have been generously entertained during the evenings and not much time for fiddling about on computers.

Plenty more to follow, have no fear!

ONWARDS TO ISTANBUL

26th - 27th Mar 2016

Istanbul looking south over the Golden Horn. Blue Mosque centre far distance.

Having bought (I hoped, after a few language difficulties) a ticket at Budapest North station for the journey to Istanbul, I boarded the small three carriage train bound for Sofia at 1.50pm. This train did not have the luxury of any catering facilities but, fortunately, I had raided the breakfast table and made a substantial picnic plus obtaining plenty of liquid refreshment. This part of the journey was to involve a couple of changes of train and a bus.

The carriages had old fashioned and comfortable 'compartments' of the type that have long since disappeared from UK trains, and which I rather like. So much more peaceful and civilised than sitting scunched up amongst the masses in open-plan airline type seating. I was fortunate to have two pleasant and interesting fellow occupants in the compartment. A Chinese grandmother from Shanghai, called Ling Ling (well that was her 'nom de voyage' anyway) and a young lady from Swansea, Wales who might have been called Bronwyn, but probably wasn't. 

Ling Ling had been travelling the world, solo, since her husband died 10 years ago. She had an impressively large passport showing where she had been, which was just about everywhere except South America and UK. These were on her agenda, she told me. The Welsh girl, who was in the hotel business, had also been travelling solo through Europe and was on her way via Italy and Spain to meet her boyfriend in Paris. She was going the long way round from Swansea. I thought they were most enterprising, and were amusing company, which was just as well because this was a very slow train. The scenery through Romania was rather dull and we crossed the border into Bulgaria at Ruse where customs got on and although doing a very rudimentary passport check the train remained stationary for an interminable period. Onwards we chugged to Gorna Oryakhovitsa (I would never remember these names if I didn't write them down) through much more well-ordered and pleasant countryside to change trains. Another longish wait. Then onwards south. The ladies got off shortly afterwards at a place called Velico Tarnovo, a popular touristy medieval town with fortress. I had the compartment to myself down to Dimitrovgrad where we arrived at 2330. Phew! There were only six of us who got off here for another change of train; an elderly blind Turk and (presumably) his wife/guide,  a young Brazilian couple who were studying engineering in Dublin, and a Belgian archaeologist. Things were a little more complicated down here as no locals or railway staff spoke any English and all the writing in Bulgaria is in cyrillic script. An old lady manning the ticket office (yes, it was open at 11.30pm) gave us lots of information...of which we understood not a single word. The only thing that became apparent was that there would be an indeterminate wait for the train to take us on. Fortunately I had some wine left to share with my fellow passengers and there was a little coffee shop open across the street which sold small cups of cheap and revolting coffee. We lingered. The next train pulled in, much to everyone's surprise, including the sole platform attendant, at 1.45am. Onwards again to the border town of Kapikule. Most irritatingly the railway line from here into Istanbul has been undergoing 'modifications' for the past two years or so and, as I discovered later, not due to be reopened for at least another couple of years. Makes our Railtrack engineering look almost efficient.  On arrival here at 6.30am, and after another longish wait, we were given a thorough and rather unwelcoming going over, airport style security, by Turkish officials before boarding a comfortable bus for the 2½ hour final leg to the metropolis of Istanbul.

The first things that I couldn't help but notice amongst the industrial parks, housing estates and shopping centres on the approach through the extensive western Istanbul outskirts were mosques and minarets. There were hundreds of them. There must be some Islamic rule that requires a mosque to be no further than 500yds  from another mosque, as some form of 'mutual support' perhaps, or within loudspeaker calling-to-prayer distance. I suppose noone can then offer the excuse that they 'hadn't heard the call'.

We arrived outside the iconic Sirkeci railway station (right) in the city centre at 10.30am. This was the terminus which once greeted all rail traffic from Europe, and was the destination of the long since defunct Orient Express. I was told that it had been closed down, but no; it still operates trains into Asia through a tunnel under the Bosphorous. The main building looks a bit of a wreck from the outside (perhaps undergoing restoration), but it must have looked grand in it's pomp.

It's pleasant enough inside (left), although it seemed remarkably bereft of travellers. 

There is a small dusty and rather uninspiring railway museum here and a very impressive looking restaurant called, unsurprisingly, 'The Orient Express' (right). This was lunchtime and there were lots of waiters on duty smartly dressed in 'black tie', but no diners as far as I could see. Perhaps they get busy in the evenings. Or when the railway line to Europe is reopened.

I sat down to a late breakfast in a nearby café and pored over my map of Istanbul to work out how to get around the place. There is a modern tram service, a new flashy above ground Metro system, an old tram service, a funicular railway and lots of ferries up, down and across across the Golden Horn and Bosphorous. It was not easy to make sense of initially. There are buses and taxis of course, but I am always very wary of taxis if I don't know where I am going, and of taxi drivers who also know that I don't know where I am going. Fortunately there is a very helpful Information Centre next to Sirkeci station.

During my stay here I have been generously offered accommodation by a friend in the Sishane district which is on the northern side of the Golden Horn inlet. I think I will need a good kip and then  be off to do some serious touristing. Stand-by for further, and probably rather inaccurate, insights into the delights of Istanbul.

Right: The Blue Mosque, more about which  later.

BUCHAREST

25th -27th Mar 2016

The People's Palace. A 'Des Res' in Bucharest

The train from Brasov to Bucharest was a straightforward 2½ hour journey (although for the first time so far my train was delayed...30 minutes). The scenery approaching Bucharest was of the  Soviet industro-wasteland variety. Even the views from London to Folkestone were pleasant in comparison. The first sight arriving at Bucharest North station was of, almost inevitably, a MacDonalds (left).

A fast and cheap Metro underground journey took me to my hotel, The Athenée, just off Piata Revolutiei in the centre of the city.

It was from the balcony of the Central Committe of the Communist Party building here, on 21st December 1989 (Sahagun Day for those in the know), that the late President Nicolae Ceausescu gave his last speech. It did not go down very well. He was rescued by helicopter from the roof after the crowd revolted and the Securitate police started shooting at them from the Athenée hotel (yes, my hotel). As you probably know, Nick and his wife Elena were summarily executed the following Christmas Day.


Right: The 'Rebirth Memorial' in Piata Revolutiei, which has a sort of birds nest around the top with what looks like blood dripping from it. The building and balcony from which Ceausescu gave his final much unappreciated address, now the Interior Ministry, is in the background.

Left: Piata Revolutei looking towards the Hotel Athenée (in the background) from which the Securitate fired at the crowd. It's only about 100yds, but looks further here. Several dead.

There are lots of grandiose buildings dotted around the city centre which is not an unpleasant place at all. Decent modern shops abound.

Right: The Regal Palace.

Left: The Circul Militar National. (Palace of the National Military Circle). This was built in 1911 and is now used for 'protocol' events, whatever they are. It also has a restaurant open to the public.  

Right:.........and the opera house

These buildings are all dotted along Victoriei Street, a grand central artery of the city, which eventually leads down to the area on which is built the Mother Of Them All, the Palace of Parliament, or People's Palace (see photo at top of the front view). This is the second largest building in the world. 

It was Ceausescu's plan to build this monster to house all the Government institutions as well as being his Presidential Palace. 50,000 homes in the area had to be demolished to accommodate it, with most of those dispossessed given paltry compensation. 

Left: A side view and the 'tourist' entrance.

What you don't see of this 12 storey monolith are the 9 storeys below ground. Down below it has, or had, a vast nuclear bomb-proof shelter, and lots of other facilities including several escape tunnels which lead to safe areas way out in the countryside. There may  also be an indoor Polo ground and several full sized football pitches for all I know. Ceausescu sadly met his demise before the place was ready for  his occupation. It would have been some house-warming party.

It now houses the Romanian Parliament and Senate. It also offers almost unlimited space for conferences, weddings, film sets, banquets and anything else you can think of. Perhaps the ideal place for an intimate, and original, 'Dîner a Deux'. Book now to avoid disappointment.

Guided tours are on offer; you can't wander around the place at will. Anyway, if you did you would probably get lost in there for weeks. The tours are organised in groups according to language. There is a pretty chaotic and crowded entrance hall to buy tickets and to assemble involving, in my case, a long wait. Surprisingly, and disappointingly, there is no café. Perhaps they didn't have room.

I was amused by the 'General Rules' displayed in several languages in the foyer (right). I think I managed 'to stay clean'.

My little party was guided by a very charming, and amusing, university graduate. The hour long 'regular' tour does not include any underground bits and, as we were told later, takes in a mere 5% of the rooms and passageways. I can't remember how many rooms are contained in this place, but it is certainly many thousands.

The overall impression is of vast empty marbled spaces, vast carpeted marble corridors, vast marble staircases, vast pillars, vast everything in fact. We were told how many thousand tons of marble had been used (I forget), and it and all the other building materials were sourced in Romania. There must be a very big hole in the ground somewhere.

Right: This was originally intended as a theatre, but now used as a conference room.

Left: The chandelier hanging over the centre weighs 5 tons and contains 3000 light bulbs which, incidentally, were recently changed to the 'eco-friendly energy-efficient' variety. As you can imagine the electricity and heating used in this place could power a small town. Ironically, this place was used as a venue for a 'World Resource Management' conference.

I don't envy the chap tasked with changing a light bulb.

Other than the scale of the place, the other over-riding impression was of very tacky furnishings and decoration which seemed completely out of scale with their surroundings. It gave the feeling of dolls' house furniture placed in the rooms.

Great expense was involved in obtaining the best materials for enormous carpets, wall coverings and sometimes 100ft long silk curtains, but the overall effect was......naff! 

It was mentioned that one '100ft' curtain had collapsed onto someone standing underneath and crushed him/her to death. Dangerous things curtains.

Right: The Presidential Reception Room........

......which is possibly one of several to meet visiting dignitaries. There were microphones on the table and even plywood booths at the back of the room to house reporters, television crews and interpreters.

Right: One of the conference rooms with a rotating camera mounted in the centre of the table. Possibly to record those who had fallen asleep. Note the old-fashioned cinema screen on the right onto which was, no doubt, projected Tom and Jerry cartoons.










Left: Another conference room containing 1002 neatly lined up chairs. The '2' were separated at the back for whatever reason.

This room led out onto the enormous balcony (right), looking down the main processional drag; Bulevardul Unirii. It was the platform from which Nick Ceausescu had planned to address his adoring masses but, unfortunately for him, never got the chance. 

In fact the only person to address the masses from here, and this was in 1992 before the building had been completed, was Michael Jackson (the late and very weird pop singer). To the assembled throng his memorable first words were "Hello people of Budapest". It is surprising that he didn't have to be evacuated by helicopter after that. His little gaffe was put down to tiredness (and possibly the drugs he was on).

Several other rooms in this incredible edifice visited, many of which contained serried ranks of plastic chairs, cheap tables and all rather uninteresting. In one hall area a fashion parade was taking place with flashing lights, several temporary stages, bars and lots of electric cables over which we had to pick our way. Curiously, I never saw a single loo in the place. Probably have outside ones.

During the course of this tour our guide was obsessed with making sure nobody had got left behind or wandered off in an unapproved direction. I'm not sure if this was for our benefit, or his.

On the way back up Victoriei St, I passed the Natural History Museum. I don't know what's inside it but on the steps outside is this very odd statue (left). I'm told it is much mocked but is nevertheless the most photographed statue in Bucharest. You can possibly understand why.

It is supposedly of Emperor Trajan holding a Dacian wolf (whatever they are when at home). Apart from the fact that Mr Trajan is somewhat informally attired, what on earth is that long trunk-like protuberance on the left side? Both his arms are holding the gormless looking wolf. I couldn't work it out. Any suggestions?

The part of Bucharest which is undergoing a revival as 'hip, old-fashioned and traditional' is the 'old town' Lipscani area. Indeed there are some attractive and trendy looking bars and restaurants there. I had supper in such a place, the touristy 'Caru cu Bere'. It is a very jolly venue with modestly priced good food and good service. Despite the bad photo (right) it is impressive inside with old wooden minstrels' galleries and glorious stained-glass windows. It also provides traditional musical entertainment and gets packed out later in the evenings...booking a table is essential then.

So that's what I managed to do in half a day and evening in Bucharest. Not a bad place at all as far as I could see and, as I have met so far across Eastern Europe, very helpful and polite locals and staff.

Next off on what might be a slightly more laborious journey south across Bulgaria. We shall see.