A Stroll Through the Hills

Old Istanbul is built around seven hills, atop each was once a major church – now a significant mosque. Today, children your Mother and I strode around a number of these hills. I chose that particular verb on purpose. My athleticism comes to the fore when faced with obstacles similar to the Minden or Marburg ranges. The lack of footpaths, the inclines themselves and the random nature of Turkish driving only added to the overall impression of a man who cannot be stopped. We were on a mission.

We were in search for a coffee place of some renown – Kronotop. After about ninety minutes of walking (or rather – striding) we found it. The coffee machine had sprung a leak and died about thirty minutes before we arrived. No problems – could we perhaps make use of the WC? No – it got flooded when the coffee machine de-flooded. Could we just sit for a while? No point – we are closed for at least an hour. Tantrums are pointless on occasions such as this, however weeping bitter tears is more than warranted. 

Having had our fill of striding for the moment we took the tram to the other side of the Golden Horn for some quiet, contemplative time in the Grand Bazaar. Children – imagine a shopping precinct on an even larger in scale than the IGA in Rosewood!. For centuries this part of Istanbul was the equivalent of the New York and London Stock Exchanges combined There was so much money tied up in the gold and jewellery market that for a number of centuries it served as the Ottoman Empires Reserve Bank. In actual fact Kinder, it was probably wealthier than all of the shops on BOTH SIDES of the main street in Rosewood! 

There are different sections in the kilometres of shops. I saw the ‘Useless Junk for Tourists” Bazaar, the Kitchen and Plumbing Supplies Quarter, a section that specialised in buttons, another section that translates as “Crap from Turkey That You Take Home Then Wonder What The Hell Are You Ever Going To Do With Matching Fez and Camel Bone Letter Openers” Bazaar. There is one section where I could have bought any number of weapons – shotguns, pistols, submachine guns – however I would need a license to buy grenades. (No kidding) Turkey has had wee problem with home-grown militants. Just can’t seem to work out where on earth they get their arms?

After this – more striding, more hills and a little rain. How I love the challenge of steep slippery hills, crazy drivers and no footpath! Ipswich’s “Man of Iron” and “The Bremer River Classic” watch out – Farley is in training. The defending champ – Thompson the Gatton Grinder, is now on notice. There is a challenger from the East. 

Best let you go my little hatchlings.. You dear Mother and I sleep soundly knowing how peaceful your time together will have been and how immaculate you will have kept our nest.

Mother and Father