Day 3

Rob and I went off in search of the Topkari palace (Yes, that's spelled wrong and I don't care). Rob has a pretty good grip on the public transportation system so we decided to take the bus there. We saw a stop called Topkari so off we went.

We met some Israelis on the bus and they were headed to the same place as us. We chatted for a bit, and then split up once we got to the gates. We walked around...and around...and around...and saw no castle. Turns out that the Topkari stop is *not* the castle. Hehe, whoops. We could take the metro to the real castle, but after meeting up with the Israelis again, decided on taking a taxi.

Turkish taxis are small. Plus the driver, we fit Rob, myself and three Israelis in a cab. The driver took the long way (of course) but it was worth it, careening through the streets of Istanbul, smooshed so tight I was sitting on my side.

We got the castle and the line up was so long. Seriously, this was the most disorganised system I've ever seen in my travels. Only two windows were open for ticket selling. You could either buy a general entry ticket for 12 lira, or the entry ticket and a ticket to the treasury for an additional 10 lira. They were selling the harem tickets inside for an additional 10 lira.

Of course, everyone wants to see the harem. So, why do you have to buy the tickets inside the gate? The harem closes at 15:30. We got to the castle at 12:30 (thanks to our adventures that morning) and easily waited in line for 90 minutes. It wasn't so bad, actually. I played "Guess the nationality/language" of everyone else waiting in line. I think Spain invented a molecular transteleporter because the place was swarming with Spaniards.

We chatted with a an older Dutch couple standing behind us. Afterwards, we met a German lady and a Spanish guy around our own ages and started talking to them. They're both working in Bucharest. The girl at an educational organisation and the guy at the Spanish embassy. While Rob and Karen talked about education in the Balkans, I chatted with the Spanish guy about the Madrid train bombings, paella, Spanish art, ETA and all sorts of other stuff you shouldn't mention in polite conversation.

Once we got through the gates, we hightailed it to the harem line. Another hour! Why can't they just sell everything together? We were standing by a British couple and we joked and laughed the entire time. Good thing it's not too hot as we would have been roasting. We got an entry time for a tour (15:30) so we went to explore for a few minutes.

In all honestly, both Rob and I were unimpressed with the harem. It was completely empty! We would have liked to have seen it as it was when the sultan lived there. Contrary to popular belief, the harem was his private apartments and those of his family, not just where the "concubines" stayed. The tile work was beautiful, I got to see the sultan's private toilet, but it was certainly not worth 10 lira.

I think they rotate the openings of the different chambers in the rest of the palace. Unfortunately, the circumcision room was closed. I was quite disappointed. The rooms were all empty everywhere else. They had a few small museums with arms, costumes and pottery which we wandered through. We particularly enjoyed the illuminated manuscripts. The artists were very particular in specifiying if the dogs and horses were male, female or geldings.

We really liked the relics room, with Muhammed's foot print (we debated the veracity of this, because even current NBA basketball players have smaller feet), a letter he wrote regarding Coptic Christians (convert or die), bits of his hair and beard and articles of clothing. There were huge "do not take photographs" pictures everywhere and still people were snapping pictures. Me taking a picture in a theatre is one thing (when I went to the Opera, and that was only for you, dear readers), but the flashes can really hurt the preservation of these items. If I worked at the museum, I would go on such a power trip, making people delete the pictures and opening up the cameras to expose the film.

After the castle, we went off in search of food. And more shopping. I decided I wanted to buy a necklace. I never buy myself anything when I travel. I had already seen a gorgeous gold and sapphire necklace in another store, along with an opal pendant. Both were way overpriced but I loved them anyways. I tossed their purchase around on my head but decided to keep looking. I found the same necklace with emeralds in another store for half price. Granted, there was no bargaining here, but the clasp is much better and I've always wanted some emerald jewelery.

I got some traditional Turkish hats for my grandparents and I'm trying to decide if I want a Turkish tea set too. I want everything here! I'm mentally thinking about clothes I don't really need and judging the space required to bring all this stuff home.

The ones here are beautiful but very touristy. Rob and I went to a glassware shop because they had vases I was drooling over. They had *real* Turkish glasses, plain, with no design. I want oodles of plates and bowls and lamps and vases. I love the designs they have here.

Problem is that so much of our stuff at home is *fake* Turkish design that when you see the real thing (or at least better copies of the real thing), it still looks fake. I like the lamps but they remind me of ones you get a dollar stores at home. I want Pashminas and loukoum and scarves and...

Last night, we decided we wanted to go out and have a good time. We're young and in Istanbul! We were walking down a small street when a man asked if we wanted to dance and have fun.

Sure, we replied.

So he brings us to a bar with vagely Middle Eastern techno music playing. The girls were tall, statuesque...and not really girls. Sure enough, we were in a Turkish gay/transvestite disco!

The girls kept coming over asking us to buy them drinks. Rob eventually bought a stunning girl a drink and they sat talking. She's a tartar from somewhere other other. She spoke almost no English so as he said, it was like playing Telephone. I on the other hand, amused myself by watching the guys dancing. Some were pretty cute but herein lies the problem:
a) I was the only real female there (although later on, a butch lesbian showed up)
b) They would willingly go to a gay bar (do the math)
c) They quite possibly had transexual fetishes

A blond Paris Hiltin wannabe sat down next to me and called me "sweetie" and "sugar".

"Drink?"
"No thanks"
"Buy drink me?"
"No, I'm just watching"
"Drink me?"
"No thanks"
"Drink want me"
"I don't have any money"

This was the magic word and she quickly got up to leave, but first she gave me a kiss on the cheek and stroked my hair.

The guy who invited us in asked if I wanted tea. After he left, Rob's friend told me that he's "Bad bad man". I wonder if he's a pimp or something.

After she finished her drink, we quickly left.

We wandered up and down the streets until we found a crowded bar filled with young Turks. We got some drinks and sat down and talked. People started clearing out at around 2 am, so we wandered around. We saw some girls who did NOT look Turkish and sure enough, they were Brits. There was an older man sitting beside them and he asked if I'd like to sit down. He's 28 and an accountant from Iran but works in Syria. I was sure he was bullshitting me (especially since he looked closer to 38 than 28) so I tried out my story. I told him that I was with Rob, who was a director from Bulgaria, etc etc. I think he bought it!

Think, because he barely spoke any English. Kept asking for my phone number, my address, my hotel and my email. He wanted to know if I would be back the next day. Sometimes "maybe" really does mean "no!"