DEFCON 2

When we learned that we should go by bus to Istanbul (8 hours from Salonika) we didn’t had a good feeling. Our last experience in a bus was in the Balkans, and it wasn’t exactly a pleasant one.

However, when we saw the bus waiting for us, it was a relief. Plenty of space, brand new, with AC, individual media stations, a guy passing every few minutes to give us water and snacks… And although it had no WC onboard, we were traveling with Barney Stinson. Or at least, his twin. Check it out yourselves here and here.

Then in Istanbul, the chaotic traffic that will travel with me for most of the trip around the Middle East started to show up. Lost in the bus station –itself a few kilometers outside of Istanbul-, Barney, two more Americans and I didn’t know exactly how to get to town. And everyone we asked for only repeated incessantly “Aksaray, Aksaray!” –another one to add to Alençon, Hollendretch and Doboj-. We later learned Aksaray was a neighborhood close to the city center.

In the end we took a taxi the five of us –the Americans and Barney thought we were going in two taxis…- to the city center and from there, we splitted up to our hostels. We would see again Barney the day after, just before he took a train to Sofia. Poor guy, skip Istanbul fro Sofia, such a dull city. He probably had a Bulgarian girl waiting for him.

As for Istanbul, I only can say it’s impressive. The Hagia Sofia and Topkapi Palace are the ones more famous, but for me the Blue Mosque is much better. The Basilica Cistern, an underground Ottoman cistern is also worth seeing. And the best of all, it was all free for being journalist.

Well, in the Harem of the Topkapi Palace I had a few problems. The guy behind the desk was rude, really rude. He didn’t want to understand me. I had to show him my Press Pass several times. I even showed him the Press Passport, where it’s explained in several languages (including Turkish) that I’m journalist. He refused to give me my ticket until a supervisor came and pushed him to do it. But as soon as he left, the guy started to swear in Turkish and he didn’t “give” me the ticket; he literally threw it to me instead with bad gestures and words.

The second day was a bit more relaxed. We bought presents for those back at home (basically, between David and I ended the existences of a little shop) and we sent home a parcel full of all the weight we didn’t want to carry around anymore. A sunset from the Galata Bridge allowed me to be for an hour between Asia and Europe (although it wasn’t between two Asian and European girls, as I would wish) and finally, being interviewed by students of journalism and political sciences ended the Istanbul tour.

It was time to say goodbye to Istanbul and David. He was flying home but I was staying and I had still a month ahead of travelling. The thrill was to come; the most exciting part was to come. It was calling at my door, and it was the day after. It was the time for a real taste on the Middle East.

It was time for Iraq.