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.