HOBART TO CHIOS

HOBART TO CHIOS

(via Doha, Istanbul, Ayvalik and Mytilini)

Hagia Sophia, Christian Church then Muslim Mosque now Museum

As the title to this post suggests, the Prop and Mrs P have covered a considerable amount of ground since the last post. To be precise, they have traveled from Hobart to Melbourne (via Qantaslink) From Melbourne to Doha (via Qatar Airways).  From Doha to Istanbul (via Qatar Airways) [In fact we landed about 30 km from central Istanbul at Sabiha Gocken Airport but Istanbul is so flamin' big that even that airport is still within what might be called a built up area.]  From Sabiha Gocken to Balat/Fener in old Istanbul (via Efendi Travel airport transfers - cost 60 Euros or A$90!!).  From Istanbul to Ayvalik (via Metro Turizm bus - 8 hours including a ferry crossing across the Sea of Marmara).  From Ayvalik to Mytilini on the Greek island of Lesvos (a.k.a. Lesbos) (via Turyol Ferries) and from Mytilini to Chios on the Greek island of Chios (via Blue Star Ferries).

Why then (the avid reader may well ask) has the Prop taken so long to put up - if that is the right word - his first post of the Grand Tour proper?

Good question.  Very good question.

It is not because - as in past peregrinations - the Prop has not had ready access to "le wee-fee".  It is not because censorship restrictions in Turkey are such that the Prop's idiosyncratic neo-Gonzo style of journalism puts him at risk of arrest.

No, the truth is, as Mr Paul Turner might say, rather more prosaic.

The truth is that the Prop and Mrs P have been flat out absorbing "kultcha" in the region and the Prop has simply been far too enervated (i.e., buggered) to put pen to paper- or to be more accurate, finger to keyboard.

In fact it is only because the desperately unlucky Pommies were shaded a day early in the second test at Lords that the Prop has, at last, found time to answer his reader's (sic) plaintive cries for news from abroad.

As adumbrated earlier, the tour commenced with a quite uneventful series of flights from Hobart to Istanbul.  There was the customary lack of leg room, swollen ankles and unidentifiable food and drink.  And, of course, there was also the wistful contemplation - somewhere over the Bay of Bengal - of whether it would have been worth the extra $6,000 each to fly Business Class. But ringing in the Prop's ears were the sage words of Peter Lyons Senior to his son of the same name (except for the "Senior") "So let me get this straight, you paid $7,000 for one night's accommodation?"

ISTANBUL

SOME GENERAL OBSERVATIONS

Its a bit hard to know where to start with Istanbul!  Its not at all like Moonah or Glenorchy and nothing at all like New Town!  More like South Hobart but with lots of mosques.... and about 18.98 million more people! 

Old Istanbul Stay Studio - not much room but good accoustic!

The Prop had secured lodgings at the keenly-priced and rather oddly-named "Old Istanbul Stay Studio"  The use of the word "studio" in this context is, perhaps, misleading.  If it was intended to convey that there was no separate bedroom then it was perfectly accurate.  If it was intended to convey the idea of some spacious upper-story loft, then it was not at all accurate.  In truth, the "studio" was a nicely renovated basement room in a traditional Turkish terraced building in Balat - the Jewish quarter of Old Istanbul.  The area is among the poorest in Istanbul with many buildings having fallen into serious disrepair.  However, as the economists dictate, they are is now undergoing "gentrification" (the buildings, not the economists) and are gradually being repaired and occupied by upwardly mobile middle-class types.

Crime is quite a serious problem in Istanbul.  All these men had their motorbikes stolen from underneath them as they waited at a red light!

"BALAT-Y-WOOD"

The same sort of thing happened in the Rocks in Sydney 40 years ago but with one evident difference: Ever since the area featured in the James Bond movie "Skyfall", Balat is now, almost daily, the scene of movie crews moving in to shoot thriller-type fillums.

Location, Location, Location. The house used in "Skyfall" that started it all.

 In the few days that the Prop was there there were crews from Germany and China.  The German movie is tentatively titled "Nick - Off Duty" (It could have been "Nick-off, Duty" but that doesn't make much sense -  still, German movies don't make that much sense.)  It is due for release early next year.  It looks like a "Beverly Hills Cop meets Inspector Rex in Istanbul" type of fillum, and so, probably not worth watching  - even with subtitles!

On location with the crew of "Nick- Off Duty" or was it "Nick off Judy".  Who cares?

The Chinese fillum appeared to be altogether more complex.  A lot of exaggerated fear and running about, leaning on buildings and looking bewildered followed by meaningful glances passing between the male and female leads.  Even though the Prop and Mrs P were granted unprecedented access to the Director (in fact the Prop and Mrs P got a bollocking from the Director after accidentally walking into a scene and were made to stand next to him during the next "take") his artistic intentions were not made clear.  There was no dialogue - not even in Chinese, so the Prop predicts that this one may be a bit of a stinker.  Still, in a place like China, if only 1% of people like it, it will probably be a big hit!

Our local green grocer

THE INCDENT AT GALATA TOWER 

The Galata Tower (centre of pic). Scene of the Incident

On Suday 12 July, 2015, the Prop and Mrs P, like many millions before them, decided to climb to the top of the Galata Tower to take advantage of the stunning views of Istanbul and the Golden Horn.  The Galata Tower is situated in the Galata/Karakoy area of Istanbul  - and this is almost certainly how it got the name.

Originally built in about 1203 at the time of the Fourth Crusade, the tower burnt down and was re-built by the Genoese in 1348.  Given this history, the Prop was surprised to find that the tower is equipped with two lifts which, for the princely sum of 25 Turkish Lira (A$12.50) will take visitors almost to the top of the tower........when they are working properly!

On this day, one of those lifts was not working properly!!

Oblivious to the danger that lay ahead of them, the Prop and Mrs P were ushered into lift No. 2 with a Chinese couple and a young Turk and his somewhat overdressed and over-made-up female companion.  The lift doors closed and lift No. 2 began its gradual ascent.  Then, without warning, the the lights went out, the ventilation fan stopped...and so did the lift! (I say "without warning" but when you think about it, it would have been very strange if there had been an announcement to the effect that the lift was about to lose all electrical power and to stay calm until power could be restored.  Still, such an announcement may have been of some benefit given the events which followed.)

So, two Chinamen (not the preferred nomenclature, Dude), two Turks and two Australians walk into a lift..... and the shit hits the fan, which as I said earlier, had stopped working.  There we stood in stifling heat (it was 33 degrees outside and a good many more inside the lift compartment) and complete darkness - until the Young Turk turned on the light on his mobile phone.  Thereupon he reached past the Prop and began banging randomly on the lift buttons none of which was illuminated and none of which responded - save for the "Emergency" button which gave out a barely-audible and pathetic buzzing sound.

The Prop sought to assure the Young Turk that there was no point to his continuing to thrash the lift buttons as they operated on electricity and that was the one thing which they presently did not have. Besides, it was already hot enough without the Turk using up excess energy by pressing buttons and shouting loudly!  Alas! The Young Turk spoke no English and the Prop spoke no Turkish, or at any rate none which would be useful in the circumstances then prevailing.  

It emerged, by the light of the Young Turk's phone, that his companion was waving a large hand-fan to cool herself which, incidentally, also helped move the air for the rest of us. 

Perhaps 10 or 15 minutes passed with the Young Turk renewing his attack on the lift buttons every minute or so sometimes with the aid of the light from his phone and sometimes without - but always with the shrill vocal encouragement of his meretricious companion.

The stoic Chinaman and his friend remained mostly silent  Occasionally he said "fuck" to himself under his breath - but little else.  What power that word continues to have, even for those whose first language is not English!

After perhaps 15 minutes - by which time things were becoming increasingly humid and fraught inside lift No. 2, the lights came on and the ventilation fan whirred back to life, the lift shuddered momentarily and then all was darkness again!  

His hopes fleetingly raised and then cruelly dashed, the Young Turk became enraged.  He gave up on the lift buttons and began kicking the lift doors and shouting, in what sounded like rather threatening terms, to persons unknown whom the Prop supposes the Turk thought must be out there somewhere and doing nothing to help him.

Meanwhile the Prop, Mrs P and the Chinamen (sic) tried to remain calm with darkness, sweat and the mad Turks all around.

Two or three minutes passed and again the lights came on and the fan whirred, the lift juddered and failed.  We were all plunged back into darkness for a third time!

There was a grille in the roof of the compartment which seemed to be providing some ventilation so the Prop was reasonably confident that oxygen depletion would not be a serious problem.  However, it was getting ever hotter and we all were all now wringing wet with sweat.  None of this was helped by the the Turks who were, by now, like whirling Dervishes, in a trance-like state shouting and kicking the lift doors. 

The Chinaman could take it no longer.  "Shut up!" he exclaimed so loudly that the Turks were brought back to reality in an instant - and for an instant or two did shut up.  But not for long.

Again more shouting and kicking.

Then the Turk hit upon the idea of forcing open the lift doors.  Applying considerable force and after several unsuccessful attempts, he finally managed to force open the doors to reveal.....a sold concrete wall!

Meanwhile the Prop had discovered that it was possible to force the perspex sheet covering the ceiling light upwards and so allow an increased flow of air into the compartment.  This provided some minor relief...but it was not enough to placate the Turk!

Maybe 2 or 3 more times over the next 15 minutes the lift suddenly came back to life - only to die again just as quickly.

Finally we could hear voices above us.  They struck up a conversation with the Turk.  Then the lights and the ventilation fan came back on.  Our Turkish bath was over! But the lift was still stuck!

Although the Prop could not understand what was being said it became pretty clear that the problem now was that the lift would not move because the doors had been forced open!!!!!

The Young Turk set about reversing what he had earlier done and, at length, managed to get the doors to close.  Then, almost instantly, the lift began to descend.  A few seconds later the doors opened and we were back on the ground floor.  As we tumbled out of that little stainless steel cell a man offered each of us a paper towel - but no apology nor any refund nor consolation nor anything!

The Turk and his companion ran out of the tower never to be seen again.

The Chinaman weighed up the situation and together he and his companion left without ever getting to the top of the Galata Tower.

The Prop looked at Mrs P and said "Bugger it - we paid good money to get to the top - Let's take lift No. 1".

And so we did.  

And it was well and truly worth it - 25 Lira that is, not the time stuck in the lift! 

The view from Galata Tower- worth the money

The New Mosque from Galata Tower

In the aftermath of the Galata Tower incident, and after time for mature reflection, Mrs P who had remained admirably calm and collected - if not cool - throughout, was moved to observe that it was a good thing that we had not perished in that lift.  "It would never do", she explained, "for the boys to have to tell people that their parents died in a lift in Istanbul."


Two days later and the Prop and Mrs P are on an 8 hour bus trip from Istanbul to Ayvalik on the western coast of Turkey to catch a ferry to Lesvos the following day.  No, the bus was't hijacked and it didn't break down.  In fact it was a very enjoyable journey.  The bus was fitted with satellite TV and free wi-fi  as well as free tea, coffee, soft drinks and snacks - and all for 75 Lira (about A$35.00)

Istanbul Otogari - 6,000 buses come and go each day

Overnight in Ayvalik which is pleasant enough but nothing to write home (i.e., blog) about.

The Ayvalik to Mytilini Ferry - Not as safe as it looks!

Then by ferry to Mytilini

More soon(ish)