Finding the heartbeat of the city....

I left the UK somewhat in a hurry, barely making it on the plane (in fact they were already planning to unload my suitcase when I finally made it to the gate) and was UTTERLY unprepared for this trip: Other than a booking a room for the first night (and this was done 5 weeks ago), I landed on Turkish soil ever so slightly apprehensive. No currency, no guidebook, no prep and crossing my fingers that I would be able to find all of the above easily at the airport.
My first impressions of Turkey were mixed: the airport (Atatuerk) is modern and looks pretty much like any other European airport. It is fascinating, that the signage in airports seems to be identical wherever you go in Europe (in the continent of Europe sense) - I wonder whether there is a company out there who has either a monopoly on airport or a copyright on the same...
So back to the arrival then: I found my way around easily enough and was shown quickly to the correct queue (luckily German nationals, unlike British, don't need a visa as otherwise this would have been a looong process). I was struck by the high number of women wearing burqa, chador  and hijab - not sure what I expected. Of course, it made me stick out a little more - I'm quite tall, short blond hair and travelling on my own - and so I felt somewhat self-conscious and out of place. I have since found out, that many of the people you find at the airport tend to come from Saudi countries, who are a little bit more conservative.
So it was with some trepidation that I made my way into Istanbul in the afternoon. I alighted from the air conditioned Metro right outside the Grand Bazaar and the noise, smells and hustle and bustle of the city engulfed me without warning. Desperately trying to clutch my handbag all the while trying to (unsuccessfully) relate the reality around me to the streetmap I was holding, not understanding a word of the signs or words spoken around me, I momentarily worried about the wisdom of traveling alone and totally unprepared in a muslim country. It felt a little bit like being lost at sea.
I wandered around trying to find the tourist office and was accosted by lots of shopkeepers trying to help. When asked, where the tourist information was, they'd sadly shake their head and telling me that they could help me with ANYTHING, no need for the tourist office. The only thing they could not help me with, was finding the tourist office as nobody knew where it was. When I eventually found it, I realised why - it's an empty shell with a gentleman handing out maps (if you ask nicely) and that's about the extent of it. You get much better info from your hotel so don't bother wasting your time as I did (of course, had I read a guidebook beforehand, I would have known).
So I wandered around Sulthanamet and soaked in all the noise and multitude of stimuli, wondering how I'd ever get use to it. At 5.15 on the dot, the Imam started their call for prayer - it started at the Blue Mosque (amplified by a very modern sound system) and then another Imam from another nearby Mosque started, than another and it sounded like they are in a dialogue with each other. Oh, how much I would have liked to understand what there were saying !! Life on the street carried on regardless though.
And suddenly, the noise and mayhem faded into the background - my own heartbeat had adjusted to the heartbeat of this frantic city, suddenly making it really exciting and urging me to go and explore it. Can't wait - Istanbul, here I come!!

Travelling solo

I do flatter myself that I am a well-seasoned traveller - be it using leaning back comfortably in the complimentary airport lounge lounges or squatting on the floor in some remote excuse of an airport waiting for the (of course) severely delayed Ryanair flight in the small hours; be it being chauffeur driven past of the realities of real life in India or self driving around NZ; be lazing on the beach on an all inclusive or roughing it on a trekking holiday in Nepal; be it conversing fluently in the Galeries La Fayette or trying to barter in sign language with a market seller in Kathmandu - I can honestly say, that I've been around the block a few times. So when the question arouse of whether to travel to Istanbul solo or not at all, the decision was an easy one to make - GO of course.
During the day, one gets lost in the hustle and bustle of the city. In fact, it's quite nice being able to stop when YOU want to stop and see what YOU want to see without having to negotiate or compromise. The the tricky bit is eating. I don't mean of course the activity of chewing but the "sitting somewhere on your own bit" without feeling self conscious or worry about the (granted) perceived pity of fellow restaurant goers.
When travelling on business, this isn't so problematic - you're either traveling with colleagues and every meal becomes an extension of the business meeting you have just come out of or are about to begin or you end up working so late anyway, that having all your meals brought to your hotel room makes perfect sense. (a friend of mine recently made the frightening discovery that at a hotel she frequently stays on her business trips, the staff not only know her by name but also know what she has for breakfast and the three options for dinner she orders. I'm sure that her local convenience store probably don't know her remotely as well.
So back to this eating out business. There is of course the option of staying in a backpackers or youth hostel and make your own meals. You get to eat your own food and will in all likelihood find someone to chat with (at least, if you're not too shy which I'm not). But let's face it, backpackers and youth hostels somewhat lack attraction when you on a short city break. You want to sink back into a decent bed and not have to share room and shower with the great unwashed.
So you can chicken out and order room service - not only is it expensive, food normally lukewarm, choice minimal (well, there is always a Club sandwich and spagetti bolognese on the menu....) and overpriced but you end up feeling rather sorry for yourself as you zap through the gazillion of TV channels in the local language because BBC world and Eurosport are even less appealing. Or you pop into the next McD or Burger King - at least you know what you're getting ....(rubbish that is)
Or, you can, as I proudly did today for the first time ever, grit your teeth and make it to a local restaurant. Boy am I proud of myself for having done it and it wasn't even that hard. To quote Emma "you build something up in your mind to mythical proportions" and the reality turns out to be nothing like it. As recommended I took a book (so not to look to stupid) and went to the restaurant around the corner. Luckily here you don't have to wait to be seated - uttering the words "table for one please" does not do much for the confidence in this instance - so you choose your perfect table, in my case on a lovely terrace overlooking the rooftops of old Istanbul. The waiter (waitress in my case) then quickly spots that you're dining alone and gets quite chatty and attentive. Brilliant. So not only did I have a lovely meal, I also enjoyed the atmosphere, indulged in some unashamed people watching and did not feel sorry for myself or embarrassed for one second.
Whyever did I wait this long to try it out??

Welcome!!

Inspired by my friend Emma's "Hmmm, notes to self" which I follow religiously, and the fact that I find myself chatting to myself under my breath more and more often and the fact that Sarah and I shall be embarking on our second biggish roadtrip in a couple of weeks time, I thought it might be worth giving this a try.

Moleskine diaries - because I have several and keep meaning to use them but unfortunately I have lost the stamina of writing for any length of time in a legible way. And let's face it, copy & paste (ctrl+alt+c, ctlr+alt+v) is just the best invention ever as is the delete button when you're suffering from verbal diarrhea.

So here we go - I hope you enjoy it. Please feel free to leave me a comment too at any time.

Ruth