Consider from Asia to Europe
On vacation in Turkey, we were visited by an idea: to get from Antalya to Istanbul. First, the idea started in a dead end: we suddenly realized that we had no idea about where and how to go. Employees of the local hotel provided full assistance by advising to catch Dolmush with the inscription "Autobus Terminal". In general, the bus movement is very developed in Turkey. This is spoken by at least the fact that our dolmush was scored almost completely. Bus message here compensated for almost complete lack of railways.
We purchased tickets to Istanbul for 20 euros for each. One and a half hours before a long trip (to drive 12 hours!) decided to dedicate kebab. In essence, Turkish kebab is the same as each Russian kebab.
Not confident clean your hands, I went to look for a washbasin with soap. The toilet was found quickly, but for the entrance they demanded 500 thousand lire (10 rubles). The expression of bewilderment and discontent on my face noticed passing by the Turk, who showed me an alternative school flooring above. For transparent doors, I saw a row of washbasins and a huge room lowered by carpets. Strange, at first glance, the premises turned out to be a bailive mosque. The presence of the washbasins here simply explained: before passing through the prayer, the orthodox Turks must be misunderstanding its limbs. And the truth, while I soap my hands, to the left of me, the Unnamed Turchanin shoved alternately into the sink his legs and diligently rubbed the roadside dirt.
But it’s time to get on the bus. When we handed out our bags in luggage, we were asked, in which part of Istanbul we are going to European or Asian? I had to think: indeed, where we are going? The only answer that came to mind is to the center!
The bus did a few stops, during which we knead the cropped legs and communicated with the locals. One tired peasant told us that in Istanbul there are quite a lot of clubs where men are not allowed if they come without the accompaniment of the lady. And in some clubs, alcohol is not served under. Local residents generally chatted with us, were interested in those who, from where and what the hell did we have suffered from Antalya to Istanbul. The appearance of a foreigner in a long-distance bus is a rarity, because the main mass of visitors is focused on the coast, in hotels of the All Inclusive hotels, and the normal tourist does not move around Turkey on their own.
Our bus went largely men and only two ladies. One of them is a typical Woman of the East, bought from the legs to the head in the motley scarves, the second – quite European look, in jeans and very boldly for Islamic Mike terrain. However, no one flies with them, phrases like "Girl and what are you so sad? Let’s get acquainted. " I have never heard. Both women were silently all the way, staring out the window.
Istanbul in the morning and in the evening
Overnight, we drove through the whole Eastern Turkey, looting on mountain roads, having driving in large and small settlements. And with the first ray of the sun drove into Istanbul.
The former capital of the Ottoman Empire struck with dimensions. A huge megalopolis planted on the shores of the Strait, between the Black and Marmara. One half of the city – in Europe, the second – in Asia. Architecture here does not know about. In the company with a monstrous lacham there is a panel tower, and next to them, not at all embarrassed, the palace of the XIX century.
"Arrived!" – I shouted to us the young Turks with whom we met on the bus station in Antalya, and ordered. After leaving the bus and finally forcing the eyes, we distinguished that we stand on the bus site, sandwiched between the landfill and car service. "Friends, you are in Baogly. Here are full of hotels, clubs, youth! You will like it here!" – on broken German assured us the Turks.
On the street was overcast and cool. We removed the number in the first stay of the hotel and fell out to fumble until the evening. In the evening, Beiogli was noticeably revived. People dawned on the streets, filled all cafes and bars, climbed the upostess dots for the sale of donors (the same Shawarma, but in the pita) and kebabs. Handing into a human stream, we were at the local Arbat. The number of walking here can be compared only with a crowd leaving the Poklonnaya Mount May 9.
In the middle of the street, rails were laid, for which old trams rushed with terrible speed. People are also buried and jumped from a car, as in old American films. From shops and small cafes, hidden in small alleys, oral music. Drazy chords Street musicians, every ten meters sitting on the pavement. Attracted by guitar bust, we approached the cafe, the walls of which were hung with old posters and photographs of Turkish movie stars, and about a bar rack was a pacolato-bearded boy who performed sad Turkish rock ballads.
Having reached the end of the street, we turned into a small lane and were shocked by contrast: the European landscape was replaced by Asian. Old wooden houses, indiscrequent number of cats, tons of rags on the ropes pulled from one house to another.
On Taksim Square, we met a guy who, having learned that we were from Moscow, happily stated that he had Gerl Friend in Moscow! We were not surprised at all: it seems that every Turk has a girl in Moscow. Or they have such an indicator of social status?
Long day Ataturk
On the morning of the next day, we were visited by another idea. To lower the level of sinning, we decided to find the famous temple of Ayia Sophia.
On the street we found that all city buildings were hung with Turkish flags. Near the stall with kebabs worked by a TV, broadcasting a papusary military parade, which took place in the capital – Ankara. It turned out that this day is celebrated by the public holiday – the day of Ataturk, the father of all the Turks, which 80 years ago won Pasha, soving the monarchy, distributed all sorts of freedom, including allowed women to walk without Chadra, advised to dress in European. Most Turchwasters follow the covenants of Ataturk, but there are also traditionalist, wrapped in long pieces of matter.
On the road to Sultanahmet, district, where, in fact, Ayia Sofia is located, a funny old man, a shoe cleaner, was subdued to us. He got carried out to accompany us to the temple itself, and learning that we were Russian instantly turned into a guide and began to give advice to the tourist sense: "There are no walk – the museum is closed, Monday! Go here – very beautiful!".
Fasciating, an elderly Turk invited us to his district mosque to. Before the temple had to remove shoes. Raising the heavy curtain made of carpet and thick oil, we penetrated inside. Twenty Magometan sat on his knees and synchronously beat bows for meditative talking mufti, reading sura. Women could not have been. Apparently, according to the laws of Sharia, they prayed in a separate room. At the exit we were waiting for our "guide", which his Turkish nature did not allow to let us go without a million-different Lear Bakshish. Then the old man became persistently offering his shoes cleaning services, but we managed to convince him that our sneakers do not need cleaning, especially black Gutalin.
Exploring the European-Asian megalopolis, we found themselves in the port, where it was just an incredible number of fishermen. Armed with long spinning, they pulled out every five minutes in a small fish, referred to as for some reason "Balyk". Even more lovers of a quiet hunting hanging out on the bridge through the Strait of the Golden Horn. Fish pulled old and young. Even women dressed in uncompromising chadras. Sometimes the marine mound crawled out of the water – divers with a gun and in the las. Served fishing people. Funny merchants who sold donuts for 500 thousand lire and lemon water from declined bades for only 250.
Going through the strait along the long bridge connecting the East and the West, we stepped onto the other side and immediately plunged into the atmosphere of Cherkizovsky market. A flurry of commercial proposals collapsed on us. To the right straight from the boat were called to enjoy fried fish, stuck in bread and dialed with some vegetables. On the left, cries were distributed: "Taxi! May Frog, W. Arman?". A little further passed another attachment – analogue of the construction market. It was the Yoshienoe shopping area – a real city, with roads in two stripes: one – for cars, the other – for pedestrians, and with sidewalks, under the string for one formed all sorts of goods. On the streets, cool climbing up, traded everything in a row: children’s toys, plastic pelvis, amazing bottles, slate slices, wooden and iron tools. The crossings of the human weight were shouting, the children shouted, broods of the Arab wives were under the leadership of the father of the family. Loud blows in the bell and screams were heard: it got out the crazy tricks Merchant Ice Cream. He moved ice cream balls from one waffle cup to another, juggled with cups and hit the finals with an iron spoon about the bell, hanging under the ceiling. For all this, with horror there was a family who wanted simply, just buy ice cream!
Then we finally have imbued with the spirit of restless, screaming, Moto East. In this pretty shopping district, we were surrounded by all the same old wooden houses on curves streets, an indiscreputed amount of dried linen and a huge selection of coffee flavors, fish, algae, kebabs, spices, carpets and other Eastern nonsense. Oddly enough, this part of Istanbul refers to Europe, but according to the oriental saturation of being, this is the most Asian city’s place.
Find Ayia Sophia in this anthill houses, streets and people turned out to be not easy. When we finally found it, it turned out that on Mondays the temple is closed, and the entrance is guarded by strict Yanychars.
