Istanbul: A quiet coffee on Istiklal Street.

The bigger girl from the group of four must be the older sister, ringleader or simply has more confidence than the others.

Sitting outside the café, we notice that she sticks her hand out first to the group of smartly dressed men sitting opposite us. In her hand is a packet of Kleenex tissues. The men ignore her for a couple of minutes. I have to admire their tolerance as I watch from another table. The rest of the girls are eyeing up the half-eaten cake, making motions with their hands at the cake then up towards their mouths. No words are really spoken, just verbal gestures.

Eventually a packed of tissues is sold and a few coins dumped into the bigger girl's now empty hand. The rest of the girls have sweet caramel sauce now coating their fingers and the cake plates are empty. 

Then, out of nowhere two burly men appear. Dressed in plaid clothes but with matching camel coloured vests, one of them seizes the bigger girl by the arm. The other girls have started shrieking. The bigger girl is dragged out into the middle of the pedestrian only street. Two of the other girls follow her. One isn’t sure what to do and hides behind an empty café chair, perhaps weighing up her options.

At the same time, whilst this is all happening we notice that out on the street two guys who were initially selling perfume from their backpacks have ‘exited stage left’ up a staircase next to a women’s clothing store. One minute they where making quick sales, the next they’ve gone with the blink of an eyelid.

One of the burly men is on what looks like a walkie-talkie. I’m wishing that right now Shazam had an app where you could point your phone to the person speaking and it could directly translate what they are saying (with a high volume, as we are sitting far away). Nevertheless between us three we’ve already started speculating what that conversation might be.

We notice that the little girl who wasn't with the others decides to reunite herself back to the group and is standing with them, watching and waiting to see what will happen next. Just like us. The burly man hasn’t let go of the bigger girls arm this entire time.

A large blue unmarked Ute turns up. All four of the girls are loaded inside. One of the burly camel vested men has a short chat to the driver, then they are all gone. The Utes drives off. The burly men leave. The perfume sellers return with backpacks to the same spot like nothing happened. The smartly dressed men have left their table. The three of us turn to each other, sit back in our seats, pick up our shitty lattes and comment how someone should recommend people watching from the tables outside Starbucks on Istiklal Street for every visitor to Istanbul.

Toodle pip x

PS the following photos are not, I repeat not related to the above written content. Shame.

Çay anyone? 

Loving the 'Bye Bye' message.

Ferry chaos.

Galata Bridge fishing.

Siesta time.

Prince's Isl: Heybeliada.

Ottoman/Victorian style architecture.

Clash of old v. new.

17 million people in Istanbul. Small?

Aquarium 'beach.'

Sultanhamet at sunset.

Istanbul & Princes Islands: Feasting in peace.

I was walking along between Topaki Palace and the Archaeological Museum when a elderly guy asked me, are you with the Belgium group? I wasn't sure if this was a trick question so stuck with the safe answer, no! 

Erupting into loud laughter (that I think turned a few Belgium heads, as conversations immediately piped in my direction about Lord of the Rings), he then turned back to me and said, "Do you speak Turkish?"


Again, I said no (and in English unfortunately. Damn my failed attempts at Turkish). 

He then said to me, "Well, if you drink more Ouzo than you'll be fluent in no time."


I politely thanked him for the tip and headed towards Hagi Sophia. 

That short but insightful conversation nicely summarises a few observations I've had so far in this ridiculously hugggeee city.

Catching up with a friend a day ago, we spent the afternoon feasting. Literally. Kicking off with Çiğ Köfte a raw beef dish (that you don't actually realise the beef is raw as it's so delish), mixed with chili, tomato and fresh lemon. You need to eat it wrapped in a lettuce leaf with fresh coriander and then wrapped in flat bread. 

Mussels in Turkey are a must to try. To impress a mussel hungry Kiwi (of the seafood kind), I had to try. Each mussel is hand shelled, filled with a salty risotto rice then sealed back up with the mussel intact. Carbs and seafood (followed by beer), pure bliss. I wonder if New Zealand would be keen on the combo? I'll have to put this to the test when I'm back home. 

A fish sandwich is the perfect accompaniment to follow. Large, chunky fillets served with fresh garlic, coriander and onion in a squishy white bread bun. I was about to burst at this stage. But all savouries need to follow with a sweet. That being fried maple syrup balls that are crunchy on the outside.  

Jade I have to thank you for helping me to further appreciate epic Turkish cuisine. 

During our ultimate dining experience, far from the 'tourist zone' of inner Istanbul, I did notice everyone around us pre-ordering food and waiting until the clock hit 20:47 so they could start eating after the sunset. I do respect those immensely who practice Ramadan. The New Zealand 40-hour famine is the closest stretch for me. But it was interesting to receive a compliant from someone sitting with us outside the fish shop if we could refrain from drinking beer. We weren't doing it too openly and in anyone's face. However we stopped and headed for a nearby park to eat and drink instead. Although walking a block away we wandered past bars with people drinking alcohol. I'll leave my opinion blank here. 

The haggling came to a standstill yesterday once I stepped onto Burgazada Island, part of the chain of Princes Island's about an hour boat ride from Istanbul. It felt like a world away from the fast pace of the city and expectation to cover-up. The only traffic on the island comes from service vehicles. Horse drawn carts instead built up during 'rush hour' (that's when everyone awaiting the 18:00 ferry back to the mainland) and instantly you feel a chilled out vibe in the air. Most of the architecture is Ottoman style, houses dotted over the coastline down to little swimming holes. My company was a few stray dogs. I'll have to admit, the relaxed vibe on this island did encourage swimming with ease knowing that the only company I had and those watching me where two stray dogs.


Gobble Gobble x

Delish.

Jade and I awaiting our fish sandwiches.

Sultanahmet.

Princes Isl.

No stinking exhaust pipes around here.

Princes Isl.

Istanbul: Tear gas and Ramadan.

I didn’t anticipate that my first night in Istanbul would give me an opportunity to experience tear gas first hand. Monday evening the protests started up again in Taxism Square after the park reopened for the afternoon and than quickly closed again.

The crowd of police was enough to make you feel slightly concerned. Their number surprised me particularly when the protest looked peaceful. Speaking to locals it seems they just want it to stop now. They have the park back and that is what they wanted in the beginning. It does seem like opinions are still very much divided.

Istiklal is a pedestrian only street crowded with people and tourists going about their day. It’s also the main hub for police to fire their water cannons and tear gas. Whether your part of the protesting or not, it doesn’t seem like the police care about who gets it. Elderly, children and myself all had red burning eyes. Milk is the only way to ease the pain.

I haven’t felt unsettled, as foreigners aren’t targets. But I have moved down to Sultanahmet, the old town of Istanbul and home to the Blue mosque and the dazzling Hagia Sophia.

Yesterday was the first day of Ramadan so the streets were quiet. A local market set up next to the Blue mosque offered every kind of treat that one would want to tuck into. Plastic dining tables lined the streets outside the mosque all ready for the locals to feast after midnight. Drinking Boza a local drink (made from millet, water, sugar and yoghurt topped with cinnamon) it was an interesting time to wander the quieter streets compared to Taxism.

It seems like Istanbul so far is far less conservative than expected. I guess it is a touristy area, but in Sultanahmet you can buy alcohol in stores lining the streets next to the main mosques. Woman aren’t as covered up. But as a Western woman you still get haggled.  But this time I’m not given a price in camels.

Gobble Gobble x

Police moving into Taxism.

Protesting up Istiklal Street.

Here come's the water cannons and tear gas. Run.

Police down the alleyways below my hostel

Markets for Ramadan.

Getting ready for the midnight feast.

Hagi Sophia.

How's your scaffolding? 

Blue mosque.

Egypt: Never a dull moment.

This story does have a beginning, a middle but not an end.

It's been awhile since I've told you a tale. In fact it's been over a whole week. I'm sure you've enjoyed the break from feeling obliged to read what I have to say.

Egypt's always been the cherry on top of the ice cream sundae for me, as a destination I want visit. 40+ temperatures, shisha, haggling, camel or even better Lamborghini marriage proposals, pyramids and lest not forget The Nile. But then there's also the other sister Jordan  offering fantastic diving, The Dead Sea and Petra. I guess my ice cream sundae has two cherries.

Giving plenty of opportunities for us to kick up some sand we decided to book ourselves on a 16-day tour. Knowing that we'd be able to get around the country with ease and most likely be in a group with only Aussie's and Kiwis. Which isn't a bad thing. 

So far, this slow crawl home has been easy. No carpet burn on the thighs or any stresses. Touching down into the desert of Cairo airport, we joked about how well everything had fallen into place so far. Contemplating on how it would be horrible if something bad happened now. Like luggage not showing up.

I think most of you agree that waiting at the baggage carousel often comes with increased levels of anxiety that your bag may not appear. You curse yourself for sticking to a black suitcase and wish you'd tie that bright coloured ribbon to the handle or write your name clearly in the luggage tag next time.

Filing a missing luggage report with EgyptAir was smooth. That's because I had an Arabic translator with me. Trying to ascertain where on earth my luggage was in the world proved tricky. 5 days later my backpack turned up in Aswan Airport. It only took two trips to the airport to try claim it. Second time lucky it was there. EgyptAir does like to create false starts and promises. The most memorable part was talking to the 'Head of Cargo' at Aswan Airport about where on earth my backpack was and watching him right-clicking on his desktop attempting to look busy and replying to me if he could smoke a cigarette? My response wasn't any words that Mum ever taught me.

But the beginning of our Egypt trip wasn't all about trying to buy new clothes and instead ending up with a lousy fake Burberry T-shirt. Instead, we became local celebrities thanks to a wedding taking place at the hotel we were staying in. The hotel lobby became a temporary home for the camera crew that evening filming the bride in her bright pink dress covered from head to toe and a nervous groom clinging to her arm. Normally it's us staring at the bride but instead we became the attraction for our 30 minutes of fame as the entire bridal party decided to sit on the same couch with us and ask if we wanted to be on film. We politely moved to the next room.

The middle of this story is everything a tourist would recall in a travel journal. What they saw, ate and experienced. It would normally be a checklist of what you should/shouldn't do. I find reading these slightly boring sometimes as that is what a Lonely Planet is for (even if the areas reviewed are so outdated). 

Egypt itself is a raw, ragged country. It's a gem of quantifiable history. Providing a local with any opportunity to reaffirm that the Egyptians 'invented everything' and after several arguments with our tour guide I'd have to agree that this is true to some extent.

Seeing the Sphinx for the first time set against the backdrop of the Great Pyramid was a image I remember seeing once upon a time in the cartoon Aladdin. One minute your admiring the Abu Simbel temples, doing your best to listen to what our fantastic guide Sam had to say over the dogs barking. The next your taking another note on the poverty in this country with the mile long queues of bikes and cars demanding petrol. The resort town of Hurghanda enabled a chance for dunking our heads in the Red Sea and listening to terrible Egyptian styled rave music on a boat. It also reminded me of why an 'all-inclusive' are like 'feeding time at the zoo' when the lunch bell rings. Getting haggled comes second-hand, and I have to admire the locals for their perseverance. They're a determined bunch. Even before the bus stopped at the Valley of Kings they were waving scarves outside the window in anticipation for a quick sale. I don't think Tutankhamun was wanting us to visit him on this particular day after the lights went out in his tomb as we stood by his body. I won't lie that we were slightly spooked. 

Part of any tour in Egypt is a trip down The Nile. We chose the more authentic way of cruising in a Felucca. It was the best 'team-bonding' opportunity for the 11 of us plus our tour guide Sam. One minute your complete strangers the next a group who are more than comfortable to discuss any topic. I won't delve any further.

For those not familiar with this traditional sailboat, it doesn't consist of much. A shaded main deck, rudder and ridiculously long, tall sails. Our shade came in the form of a faded Disney cartoon tarpaulin. Pictures of Mickey and Minnie Mouse decorated it with the messages, 'Good Night' and 'Good Day.'

You sleep outside at night watching the stars. Our  sleeping area doubled as the dining space, entertainment area and contemplation zone. Over the 3 days spent we even managed to sneak in a few haircuts on board. At night we'd park up next to a sandy spot or close to a village. I was shocked to see donkey's tied up on a half metre length of rope lead secured into the sand but not close enough to the waters edge. They looked underfed and after feeding them stale bread and a few apple cores, washed down with a pail of water I hope this brought them some respite. I did get the impression from the locals that I needed a kick of reality check as not every animal in the world can be given adequate food and water. 

A distraction from this was a group of 3 skinny kids who were desperate for a football. Our captain, threw one over the side to them. I thought I'd better make some new friends so joined the game. It wasn't much of a game to be honest. But thank god for that as I'm no David Beckham. I attempted a introduction to the 3 musketeers. They kept pointing at themselves each time I said Cath. Fail. Finally we had a breakthrough when they realised what I was trying to say. Aside from this small development  the only other English that was said was, Hello. This became the call during the game each time someone passed the ball onto the other. I still have no idea what the score was or if we were actually playing a game but those kids and I were laughing so hard it didn't matter.

Leaving 9 days into a 16 day tour means that this story has no end. I'm not going to sound like a broken record here but we were guttered to depart early and not have the chance to visit Jordan. Everyone has a perspective on what is going on in Egypt at the moment. After not seeing the news for the past week and not physically witnessing anything dangerous just a few travel disruptions it was hard to decide whether to stay or go. 

Last Friday was the worst evening in Cairo with protesting occurring throughout the city, forcing a close to the Giza Train Station. We were on an overnight train from Luxor to Cairo. Only making it 2 hours out of Luxor before the train was held up by police who wouldn't let us go any further. I've never had a better sleep that evening. That's because the train didn't go anywhere. 

I do think that the media has over sensationalised what is happening at the moment. Yes, you can't ignore the violence and reports of rape. But now I'm catching-up on the news I'm struggling to read anything about the mass celebrations of Morsi's fall from grace. The fireworks, music and huge street parties. A testament to this was hearing the noise of laughter, music and singing coming from both sides of The Nile when we were aboard the Felucca. 

But, when your Mum gets worried you listen. When Barbara from the New Zealand Embassy in Cairo personally calls the group with a warning to get out. You listen. Some of our group have stayed on the tour but I guess I'm more cautious these days. Plus I'm on a slow crawl home and I have a few more countries to visit before I return to New Zealand. 

Egypt is somewhere you can keep returning and find something different each time. Even more so now as I haven't seen Jordan. Someone on the tour commented that they'd love to have a broom and 'Spray and Wipe' on hand to go around and clean it up. That did make me laugh. But this is what gives this country such charm and reality. Amidst the rubbish lining some streets and dust clouds there is real beauty about the place. Once you spot something that stands out you can't turn your eyes away from it. Just like the locals staring at us Western woman, we too are staring something, camera in hand to capture it. 

Toodle pip x

Sam our fantastic tour guide

Casual haircut on the Felucca.

Felucca.

New friend.

Abu Simbel

Team bonding on the Felucca.

Views from another bus ride.

Perfumery.

All inclusive resorts..nice view but that's about it.

Sphinx and I.

Walk like an Egyptian?

Bulgaria: Feeling the local vibe in Sofia.

It’s nice arriving into a city and noticing that it’s not laced with tourist trinket shops on each street corner selling plastic magnets and postcards of monuments and landmarks you never end up finding.

The only person branding an umbrella isn’t the leader of the walking tour instead someone who uses it for a purpose of blocking out the sunshine for a change. Cameras don’t dangle around people’s necks instead identity cards hang over crisp white shirts.

Finally we are in a city where we can almost sink into the unknown and play out the role of acting like a local with ease.

Sofia, Bulgaria certainly does cater for the tourists, but our past 2 days here have felt the opposite. We’ve shopped, attempting an unsuccessful haggle at the local market only to return later to take up on the final price. We’ve visited a beautician who was adamant that whoever shapes eyebrows in the UK needs to be taught a few lessons.

Last Friday there was a mass demonstration running down the main street against the rise in electricity prices. A peaceful protest, but still we watched form afar with caution.  Whistles blown and flags waved, the media standing by filming every second of it.

Everyone has greeted us in Bulgarian and we’ve attempted the long winded thank you, failing miserably, wishing that there might be an abbreviated version. Merci is the alternative, we’ve been told, but we are in Bulgaria not France.

It’s been nice walking around a city that isn’t overtly selling itself with the tourist trade. Instead buzzing away with everyday life and a noticeable influx of sex shops on street corners. Strange but a nice change from a kebab shop I guess?!

But, at the end of the day I am here as a tourist, and do need that mandatory postcard. Even if its of a monument that I’ve never seen.

Toodle pip x 

Taking advantage of wet cement (there's a first time for everything).

Streets in Sofia en-route to markets.

Flag sellers and whistle blowers. Essential items for any street protest.

Street view.

Public protests.