A number of historical figures have been sold in Turkey.  Miguel Cervantes was captured by pirates, then spent six years as a galley slave rowing a boat on a Turkish Mediterranean Cruise before obtaining his freedom.  Of course he went on to write Don Quixote – a series of sequential short stories, and by doing so is credited with inventing the format we now call ‘the novel’.  The fourth Pope was bought and sold by the Turks as were a number of Byzantine saints.  As were Linda and I yesterday.

We had asked for a driver to pick us up as we had read plenty of Turkish Taxi Terror yarns. When we stepped out of customs at the incredibly efficient Kemal Attaturk Airport, we were met by a man (I thought he said his name was ‘Sandshoe’ AND so did Linda) who told us to wait.  There was only four people on his list, so he sold us to another man (I though he said his name was ‘Sandal’, AND so did Linda.)  Sandal couldn’t put a group together, so he sold us to another bloke who was heading home from the airport and had his wife waiting for him outside in the car.  I won’t pretend his name was Slipper- that would be a silly name.  He and his wife drove us to Unpronouncable Street where we will be for the next three weeks.

Our apartment is wonderful on the inside, but my goodness the outside needs a bit of work Mr Ozturk. On the theme of novels, John Buchan’s ‘Thirty-nine Steps’ has nothing on Suite Home Galata.  It is seventy-two very steep steps up a spiralling, marble staircase.  My Children, how proudly your little hearts would beat if you could but see your father springing lightly up and down those stairs!   Your mother has christened me ‘The Gatton Gazelle’ – just to give you some idea of how elegant I look on that staircase.

First impressions of Istanbul itself? It is a great city and it will become even better as we become more familiar with the geography.  We have negotiated the public transport system to cross over the Golden Horn to the peninsula.  We have obviously walked extensively around this district – enough to get mildly lost but still manage to navigate our way home.  We have found some of the major tourism landmarks, but have not yet visited them as we are awaiting Mitch and Maryanne’s arrival.  We have found a place for breakfast, and we have located butchers, bakers, candle stick makers, etc.

Turkey will be NOTHING like Italy.  Despite the modern Kemal Attaturk Airport, the Kemal Attaturk freeways and bridges, the Kemal Attaturk schools and universities, there is only so much one Father of the Fatherland can do.  There isn’t a Kemal Attaturk garbage collection system, or a Kemal Attaturk – we’d-better-fix-that-one-last-pothole crew, or a Kemal Attaturk Are-you-certain-that-fish-meets-our-exacting-hygiene-standards?-inspector.  But that is what makes the next three weeks so exciting for the two of us.