Europe 2010
The challenges of traveling when you’re older
Part 10
Istanbul, Turkey
My partner Greta and I are on the final leg of our month-long European trip, spending the last five days in Istanbul, Turkey.
Assume nothing when traveling
When we arrived at the Istanbul Airport, we assumed that our passports had been stamped with the required visas when we
entered Turkey from the cruise ship on the day the ship docked in Kusadasi and Ephesus. We simply passed by the visa line, and went
right to the passport check line.
We had hoped we’d get through the line quickly because our driver (and landlord) was waiting for us. Our line took forever. The
people in front of us, apparently all from the same airplane, were being questioned thoroughly for 3-4 minutes each. After 45 minutes,
we got to the front of the line, but were told we had to have a visa to enter Turkey. Our passports had not been stamped with visas in
Kusadasi; we had assumed wrong and it cost us at least an hour. The man pointed to the visa window and told us to come right back and he
would process us immediately without us having to wait in line again.
After paying $20 each for visas, we were back in seven minutes. But the man was gone, on a lunch break or for whatever reason. There was no choice except to go to the rear of the line vs. trying to cut in and be stoned by those who had also been in line for 45 minutes.
Once through the second time, we were two hours late at that point. Daghan was not waiting for us outside baggage claim and it was our fault for expecting him there. He had previously emailed where we should meet him but we had misplaced the email. We did have his cell phone number. Turkish officials at the airport helped us reach him. He had waited two hours and was a bit irked, but cordial and nice. Daghan has a master’s degree in finance from UC Berkeley and is working on his PhD. He is a busy man and didn’t have two hours to toss away.
We stayed in one of the ten properties he owns, a one-bedroom apartment that overlooks the Golden Horn, a body of water about a half-mile wide that divides the historical section of Istanbul from the modern section. Daghan lists his properties on
www.vrbo.com/268941. Istanbul is immense and crowded, with a population of 16,000,000.
Before going exploring in the afternoon, we wanted to get to a market to get bottled water and a small bit of food to carry us
through for a day or so. We had exchanged some money with Daghan so we had Turkish Lira, but I still wasn’t acclimated to how much a
Lira was worth vs. the dollar. We had been dealing with euros for most of the trip and it takes a while to readjust your thinking
regarding the value of currency.
After briefing Greta and me about the apartment and surrounding area, Daghan introduced us to Ibow, a wonderful Turkish man who
serves as the property manager. Ibow gave us directions to a nearby market.
I get taken for money—having my tennis shoes shined
We headed out to find the market, but got lost; we asked a young boy who was carrying a shoe shine kit where the market was. He
pointed to a nearby street. Then, as he stepped away, his shoe shine brush—the main tool of his trade--fell out of his kit. He didn’t
seem to notice and was walking away, so I yelled to him and pointed to the brush on the ground. We were not in an area where there were
tourists so I wasn’t as aware of potential scams as I normally would be.
Then, in what I thought was a gesture by him of thanking me for pointing out his fallen brush, he started cleaning my old, worn out,
tired, Nike running shoes. Greta said, “What are you doing?” to me, not believing I was letting this guy shine my tennis shoes. I wasn’t
letting him, he just started. Then, another shoe shiner appeared saying he was the guy’s brother and tried to shine Greta’s bare-toed
sandals. She refused, to her credit.
 The guy finished and asked for money. I gave him a one-Lira coin. He wanted more, not enough he said, he wanted bills. It cost me 3
Liras, or $1.80 to have my 3-year-old, ragged, tennis shoes unwillingly cleaned and to get rid of him. Greta pointed out to me that
dropping the brush was all a part of the ploy. It was a cheap lesson for me. As we learned later, many Turks come at you from all
directions and in all ways asking for money. This hilarious incident was a great reminder to be ultra careful with our money. Seniors
need to be very travel savvy to avoid being bilked or worse.
On our first day, we decided to walk about a mile from our apartment along the Golden Horn to the port area of Eminonu, the
transportation hub of the historical side. Once in that area, we came upon a large mosque, so
large we thought it had to be the famous Blue Mosque. Before going inside, as required, we removed our shoes and Greta covered her
head and shoulders. The enchanting and intriguing call-to-prayer is broadcast over loudspeakers from the minarets of mosques throughout
Turkey at different times during the day.
When we exited the mosque, we bought a tourist map of Istanbul. We discovered the mosque wasn’t the Blue Mosque, but the New Mosque. We were still learning that while traveling in foreign countries, we
should assume anything.
Of course, as a stubborn old dude, I don’t always follow that rule.
 To avoid being recognized as tourists, Greta and I try to consult our map inconspicuously. But, in Turkey, it’s a moot point. Most
Turkish women we saw in Istanbul wore either a scarf covering their heads--with full-length coats and long pants--or black, full birkas, with only the eyes and sometimes the nose showing. When the
Turks see Greta’s head uncovered, they know we are foreigners. We didn’t stand out as Americans however; shop owners thought we were
English, German, Canadian or French. We had fun responding to their “Where are you from?” questions in our limited French and German
vocabularies.
Next to the New Mosque, we unknowingly entered an outdoor bazaar. It was so large and crowded with people, mostly Turks; we assumed
it was the mammoth Grand Bazaar. But again our map proved us mistaken; it was the Egyptian Bazaar, which on a Friday at 5:30 p.m., is
amazingly crowded.
As seniors, we found this bizarre to be very claustrophobic, whereas when we were younger, we probably would have thought it was cool
to be in such a mass of people. It was belly-to-belly and body-to-body. I kept one hand in Greta’s hand, and the other protecting my
crouch and wallet, the latter which was in a front pants pocket. We purchased a small bag of cashews and wiggled our way out through a
Byzantine archway.
 By the second day, I thought I had mastered the Istanbul bus system, at least for the parts of the city we’d be visiting. We had
planned to go to the Blue Mosque and Grand Bazaar. Much to my consternation, the bus crossed a bridge leading to the modern side of
Istanbul, placing us a great distance from our intended destinations.
But, Greta, who always puts a positive spin on plans that go awry, insisted we check out the modern side, since we were already
there. In Taksim Square, the major hub of activity on that side of
the Golden Horn, we witnessed a small political demonstration that had a major police presence nearby. There is a major walking Paseo
with shops and restaurants from Taksim Square to the Galata Tower that has a trolley car running down it that you can ride for a Turkish
Lira. Reminds one of a cable car in San Francisco, with the bell clanging often. We rode that:
(trolley car). We walked past the Galata Tower
 with its surrounding shops and restaurants to the Galata Bridge. From there, we rode the tram (Metro) that took us
back to the historical side of Istanbul, and dropped us off at the Blue Mosque.
So, we decided to move from the frying pan into the fire by going to the Grand Bazaar on a Saturday. Visualize more than 4,000
covered shops where gold, jewelry, knock-off purses, knock-off watches, Turkish rugs, leather, fur coats and porcelain are bartered and
sold by very aggressive shop owners, who will do anything to entice you to come inside their shops. It’s a captivating place; I lasted
in there for about 40 minutes.
We decided to rest our legs in the major piazza adjacent to the New Mosque, back down in the port area of Eminonu, where there were
thousands of people late Saturday afternoon. We sat on a bench next to a Turkish family, the husband, his wife in a scarf and long
jacket, and their cute little daughter. There were indications on the bench that pigeons were above but it was the only available bench
so we plopped down. Sure enough, within a minute, a pigeon dropped a very large green load right on the top of my head (thank heavens it
was my head and not Greta's). Splatt!
The Turkish man offered me a couple of napkins and a water bottle to wash it off. We all had a big laugh. Can you believe that Greta made me shampoo my head when we got
back to the apartment?
During our stay, we walked for miles in Istanbul, up and down steps, on cobbled streets, listening to the calls to worship from the
minarets, dodging potholes, cars, motorcycles, trucks and people. At the end of the day, your joints and knees ache. When we were
younger, we’d bounce out of bed the next day and do it all over again. But now, we had to get the old body moving before hitting the
streets each day.
Bosphorus River (it’s really a Straight) Cruise
 And yet, we still did it. And we noticed that seniors who were walking-challenged did it also--by either taking tours, cruises, taxis
or public transportation. On a Sunday, to celebrate Greta’s 69th birthday, we went to the of Eminonu to board a six-hour Bosphorus
Straight cruise that took us all the way to the Black Sea
to Anadolu Kavagi, a small town, where the boat remains for three hours, plenty of time to eat and to explore a little. The cost was
about $15.00 each, an incredible deal. There were many, many seniors on that cruise. The boat stopped at several small towns along the
way so you don’t have to go all the way to the end, you can get on and off at any of them, and even take a bus, cab or Metro from some
locations, back to Istanbul.
Part of Turkey (and part of Istanbul) is in Europe, the other part in Asia. The boat
docked for three hours on the Asia side; we celebrated Greta’s birthday by having lunch at a seafood restaurant fronting the Black Sea. . At that Black Sea restaurant, I said to Greta, “I wonder where
we will be next year on your birthday?” On the way back, a giant oil tanker passed our boat .
On our final day, we took the bus across the bridge
 all the way to the Taksim Square. We arrived just in time to watch and video a
celebration, but we did not know what is was for. So we asked. It was the holiday that celebrates and honors handicapped kids. What a
blessing, I think it was fate. You see, Greta had been a special education teacher for 31 years. When they found out about her teaching background (told to a transalator), they wanted a picture with her.
Again, we walked the Paseo where the trolley runs . Had a Turkish-style lunch in a cafeteria: peas, potatoes and lamb with okra and
carrots. Greta stopped for a gelato on the Paseo. These ice cream merchants are dressed in costumes and perform quite a ceremony
pretending to put about 10 pounds of gelato into Greta’s cup. They also charge about $7 to do it. Gelato
shops off the beaten path are generally far cheaper.
After checking out handbag and watch prices along the Paseo, Greta decided the Grand Bazaar was a better place to shop. Again, we
took the tram back across the Galata Bridge all the way to the
 Bazaar. This time, it wasn’t as crowded and was actually an enjoyable
experience. Greta negotiated a watch down from 120 USA to 60 USA. I bought a leather wallet for 12 bucks. We enjoyed an authentic
Turkish meal (Turkish lunch).
Later, on our walk back to the apartment, we stopped for a small sandwich and yogurt milk just across from where all of the buses
load at the base of the Galata Bridge.
For seniors who are physically able to get around fairly well, Europe is within their grasp. True, they may have to go completely by
organized tours. But, that’s ok, they can still do it. And what an educational and eye-opening experience this trip had been for us.
Time flies on enjoyable trips. We loved every aspect of our trip, but it was time to go home. Not in a dying-to-get-there-sort-of-way,
but it was time to go. Daghan—our landlord--picked us up at 6:30 a.m. to drive us to the airport. We made it with plenty of time to
spare. Then, after a three-hour flight from Istanbul to Paris, we found that the prices were much, much higher in Charles DeGaulle
Airport than we had grown accustomed to during the previous 31 days: $12 for coffee and hot chocolate, for example. That $7 gelato in
Istanbul looked like a bargain.
The 11-hour Paris to LAX nonstop seemed long—I was stuck in a middle seat—so it was imperative to be up stretching the old legs once
an hour. Seniors traveling in coach class should try to book aisle seats where possible
Turkey trip summary
-We ate most dinners at the apartment. It’s fun to pick up supplies at the local markets and prepare or just serve them at home.
Restaurants in Europe charged a lot more for less food.
-The Turkish people were very nice. Any fears of being in a Muslim country were unfounded. I think of the nice Turkish man and his
family who helped me with the bird poop incident. And the kids in Turkey gave up seats to Greta on buses and trams.
-In all cities, having a good, reliable map is a must to get your bearings. Getting a map helped us isolate a base camp location
that we could always relate back to.
The call-to-prayer, announced five times a day, broadcast over the loudspeakers from the minarets of the mosques, was enchanting.
An incredible trip for a couple of senior partners who respect and enjoy each other’s company.
To access Tom's ebook, "Italy: 23 Days by Train" follow this link:
http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/9907
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