There are sounds that help remind us every day that we’re in Istanbul – the deep notes of the ships as they pass through the Bosporus, the call to prayer from the mosques at various times starting before dawn, the cries of wheeling gulls. Recently added to that has been the crack of teargas guns, the wail of police sirens and the chants of protestors. Today I went to the Topkapi Palace – a much more peaceful place indeed.

The palace was started by Sultan Mehmed II in 1453 and is very human in scale with only two floors and lots of open space. This particular sultan also started another fine Ottoman tradition – fraticide. To stop two of his sons fighting over who gets the palace when Dad dies, he had the younger one killed. The idea took hold, and for nearly 200 years whenever a Sultan died, all of the Crown Prince’s brothers and half brothers were strangled and buried with their father. When you have 4 wives and 200 concubines strangling all the younger lads would have been a good night’s worth of work for the Head Groundsman – he also doubled as chief assassin. The leadership team at Fairholme should stay right away from Peter Sutton when Linda retires.

I wonder if the brothers ever cottoned on to the fact that they were the only kids at Topkapi High School with lots and lots of aunties but no uncles? Later this practice was modified slightly to keep a couple alive in prison at the palace just in case the new Sultan produced no male heirs. Some of these royal prisoners eventually got to take over the throne but had been driven quite mad by the wait – understandably. Imagine spending the whole first part of your life hoping your dad stays well, then the next bit hoping your brother doesn’t.

The Ottomans also used their massive wealth to collect a huge portfolio of religious relics – the Prophet’s coat, footprint, parts of his beard, some of his hand writing. They have King David’s sword and a staff that is said to belong to Moses. They have various parts of Christian Saints/ Muslim Prophets, John The Baptist’s wrist bones for example. There is enough jewellery to excite an entire harem of course, and a library that’s not too shoddy. Today they had a Mufti reading from a 16th Century Koran, with an English and Turkish translation shown on a screen as he recited the words. I do think Celia and Margie’s people would be able to find an exciting body part or two in the relics room.

To finish off my great day exploring Istanbul and Linda’s day wrestling with her concluding chapter, we dined at a local restaurant.  Grilled seabass and fresh salad, kofta and veges, dessert and water – about $20 each.  Walking home we were accompanied by  the deep notes of the ships as they pass through the Bosporus, the call to prayer from the mosques across the city, the cries of wheeling gulls. No chanting protestors, no police sirens, and definitely no teargas. Even a 21st Century Ottoman Prince would think that’s a pretty flash way to finish the day. Though I’m not so sure about his younger brothers.

I had to get my hair cut in Turkey today. I went to a place downstairs and they gave me their card. It’s very distressing, I don’t want to talk about this either.

I went to a public toilet in Turkey today.  It’s very distressing – I really don’t want to talk about it.

Since we have fêted the notion of the road less travelled, what is tourism without surprises? Linda and I were teargassed today. The reason? For the past six days there have been six hundred or so protestors camped in a park not all that far from our apartment. The government is planning to clear the site of trees in order to build army barracks and, in the words of a local, ‘another’ shopping centre.  A ‘Save the Park’ group had been camped at the location to stop the trees being uprooted, but on Friday the police moved in. The camp was burnt down, the trees were bulldozed, and, in the process, some people lost eyes, one is in a coma and dozens were injured.

It’s Saturday here, and we had enjoyed an innocent touristic stroll across the Galata Bridge and through the Spice Markets to the Grand Bazaar. Despite noticing a proliferation of young people wearing surgical masks – the pollution was nonexistent and surgical masks have always seemed like a Japanese tourist or doctor thing, we headed home via the fernicular rail expecting a slow stroll down the hill to Sedal Ekerin Caddesi – our street. The only cause for concern was a chance conversation with a passenger on the fernicular who gave us a little background to the protests, then, with his limited English his parting words were: “Be careful’. We thought he was being a little melodramatic, perhaps. Yet, when we got off at our stop, the station doors were locked, the place was filled with teargas to stop protestors from reaching Taksim square – site of activity, and people were attempting to get back on the train.  Fairly quickly – though it felt like a long time,  some Young Turks (sorry Scotty) broke open a roller door allowing everyone to exit.

We walked home against the tide. There were thousands and thousands of young people heading to Taksim Square. They were wearing a combination of surgical masks, or gas masks, or helmets, or bearing Turkish flags and they all were walking with intensity. One particularly erudite young man having a tea outside our apartment gave us some background.  A relative had been the Foreign Minister in a previous government and strongly opposed to the any military involvement in government because of Turkey’s long history of dictatorships and coups.  Now young people particularly see the military as the only guarantee of a secular Turkey, the only guarantors of free speech and the right to protest peacefully.

Another salient lesson regarding the things we take for granted in Australia and the costs that have been incurred in obtaining those freedoms; things like freedom of speech and peaceful assembly, and train travel without the teargas.

Many here consider dogs to be unclean, although I don’t know why anyone would get that idea:

Our neighbourhood is Constantinople Cat Central.

Actually there are real issues for blind people across this part of the world, with so many shop owners or authorities refusing to allow any dog, even guide dogs, into shops or public transport.  And seeing-eye goats or cats haven’t been a huge success.

(OK, I made that bit up about the goats and cats- guide-goats are pretty good, it’s just the seeing-eye cats that have been the problem)

Oh dear – time for bed.