A bit of faffing

Istanbul, Turkey

2 August 2013

I wake up with a severe headache and feeling especially grumpy. It’s very oppressive heat and humidity and I have to purchase train, bus and ferry tickets before doing anything else. I’d not been able to buy these online in advance as the various companies didn’t like a UK credit card nor did I have a Turkish address or phone nr. My preference is to buy or book everything in advance so I don’t have to faff about when I get there….for reasons that will become very obvious! Hotel concierge shows me on the map where the rail station (10min walk) and the Kamilkoc bus ticket office (20min tram ride) are on the map. Walk through the searing and humid heat and cruise ship tourists to the rail station. There’s a middle aged German woman being dealt with, then two young German lads and then me in the queue for the ticket counter. I stand there sweating like I don’t know what. There’s no air and it’s stuffy. I have a splitting headache. I’m a particularly grumpy old ogre today having got out of bed the wrong side. The German woman is speaking reasonably good English but wiz ze German accent. The Turkish woman on the ticket desk is struggling to understand and I see her remonstrating through the glass pointing away as if to say “Go away!”. From ze conversation I zink dat ze German woman has tickets but is wanting to change them for a different train. This confuses the Turkish woman. It ends up with ze German woman saying she’ll buy new tickets as it’ll be easier. This goes on for 15mins. I’m wilting in the heat. The German lads have got bored and disappeared so I’m next in line when the German eventually gets sorted and buzzes off. Being a forward thinking, clever, sort of chap, I’ve already written down what I want on a bit of paper to make it perfectly OBVIOUS and SIMPLE, for the most incompetent muppet who doesn’t speak English, EXACTLY what I want. This includes DATE, FROM, TO and TIMES. It’s so easy a Martian could interpret it. I could have these tickets in 3 minutes it’s that simple. 40 minutes later…… Admittedly, I’m already losing the will to live and just simply leaking with sweat in the heat and humidity – oh, yes, ladies, it’s a charming sight. I hand over the piece of paper with the VERY SIMPLE AND EASY TO UNDERSTAND information. She looks at it and throws it back saying “Date”. I point to the “4.8.13” and the “5.8.13” which sort of gives a clue. She huffs. I puff. I want to go from Eskeshir to Ankara and I want the 1245hrs departure. She’s being bloody awkward. It’s obviously her “off” day (I’m being polite). She writes down the departure times for that day. No. No. No. I want the 1245hrs departure. She huffs. I keep muttering to myself four words. Three of which are……oh…..for…..& sake. Eventually, at last, after a lot of hard work she shows me her computer screen with the correct data. I give the tumbs up and she prints ticket out. It costs TRL35 (a snip at £12 for Business Class for a 2hr journey). One down one to go. Irritated is one word I’d use to describe my current state. We repeat the whole bloody date thing for ticket nr 2. I need to travel from Ankara to Adana and having checked the timetable online I know I need to change in Konya. I’ve written the Ankara-Konya and the Konya-Adana times down. She huffs. I puff. It’s all too difficult for her. Again, she writes down all the departure times for Ankara-Konya. No. No. No. I want the 1300hrs departure. I sound like Renee out of the BBC comedy ‘Allo ‘Allo when I probably say a bit too loudly, “You stupid woman”. She taps into her computer and shows me the screen with the correct data. Thumbs up she prints out the ticket. It too costs TRL35 for Business Class. A snip. Now….for the seasoned traveller like me there are probably alarm bells ringing right now. She’s not done the Konya-Adana leg at the same time. I assume it’s the way her system works. It’s not….it’s her! I’m still muttering to myself four words. Three of which are……oh…..for…..& sake. Bearing in mind she’s just sold me a ticket for a train that arrives in Konya at 1452hrs and the next train I want is the 1500hrs from Konya. Just bear that in mind a moment. It’s all written down for her, nice and neat, and SIMPLE. So what does the stupid woman do. Tell me there’s a 0630hrs departure on the same day. I lose the plot and shriek “No…I want the 1500hrs”. She slams her hand down on the counter in anger and starts mouthing off to her two female colleagues who have been spectating. I’m just about to punch my fist through the glass and throttle her when her mate steps in and tells her to shift, in a way that I feel is sympathetic to me and that she also thinks her colleague is being blatantly stupid. By this time a Turkish businessman is behind me and getting fed up of the delay. He speaks fluent English and translates what I want. The new ticket woman, who I can immediately tell is more intelligent and calmer, eventually confirms that the Ankara-Adana train is fully booked. There’s only one train a day. It’s full. In the words of James May….oh, cock! I’m stuffed. I have a headache still remember and this is not what I want to hear. I have to be in Adana Monday night as I have a flight to catch Tuesday morning (to Cyprus). She offers an alternative. The night train which departs Ankara Monday night and arrives Adana 0720hrs Tuesday. Hobson’s choice. I take it. Didn’t want to do the night train as I’d read that there was some spectacular scenery between Ankara and Adana…espcially as it passed the Taurus mountains……and for obvious reasons was something I wanted to view. Oh well. I pay the TRL93 for the overnight cabin but I now have a spare TRL35 ticket for Ankara-Konya that I have no need of. As it’s already been sold they’ll buy it back less 10% cancellation fee. I’ve had enough and want to get some fresh air so just accept it knowing that this little anecdote will be worth more in the book deal…….any offers?? Thoroughly hacked off. Thoroughly hot. Thoroughly sweaty. Splitting headache. That was just the train ticket. I now have a bus ticket to buy. It’s a 20min tram journey. Despite the AC carriages, it’s still hot and sticky and smelly. But then I wonder if it’s me that smells as I’m leaking so much. Still a charming sight. The tram stop is Capa in the suburbs. It’s the Clifton of Nottingham. I’m off the tourist trail. It’s just the Great White lolloping through their manor. Tram attendant points me down a side street to the Kamilkoc coach ticket office. I reach the end, find a gaggle of police on patrol with machine guns and suspect I’m in he wrong area. If in doubt, ask a policeman. They point me back to the main road…..and safety. By now I have a 3G mobile signal so Google Kamilkoc and its mapping system shows me where the address is and, more importantly, where I physically am. The wonders of modern technology soon have me in the ticket office. A young Turkish lady translates to the ticket clerk what I want and within 2mins have required ticket. Return to hotel for a couple of Anadin and a lie down. There, there, there. It’s taken over two soddin’ hours to sort out three tickets. And that, dear reader, is why I like to book & buy everything up front in the comfort of my home office of a cold winter’s evening before I travel. Right, now I’ve got that off my chest…..a bit of sightseeing. Anadin is taking effect so venture out again into the late afternoon heat. It’s a bit of a blitz due to so much faffing earlier. Descend under Sultanahmet to the Byzantium Cistern – a massive underground construction for water storage. It’s huge and the pillars are nicely uplit (for my fellow lighting designers out there). Amble the back streets and deliberately get lost. It’s one of the best things you can do – you never know what little surprise is around the corner. I’m heading in the general direction of the Spice Bazaar and smell it before I find it. The alleyways are full of locals busying themselves but I can’t help feeling there’s an over supply of goods. It must surely be a saturated market. Just how many cloth shops can be sustained in this market? Have fully engaged Mosque Mode before coming out – dispensed with the size 13 hiking boots that take ages to take off/put on and lace up. Am wearing slip on deck shoes. There’s thought gone into this. Pop into the New Mosque opposite Galata Bridge and waltz round with my shoes in a plastic bag like everyone else. Except we all look like dog walkers with bags of you know what strolling around. Galata Bridge is full of fisherman casting off both sides but it’s only small fry they’re catching. Beneath the bridge are restaurants and looking up you see the fishing rods silhouetted against the deep blue sky. Bit of a slog uphill to the Grand Bazaar before returning to Sultanahmet and popping into the Blue Mosque which has just re-opened following afternoon prayers. The security personnel go ballistic when two female tourists venture into the middle of the carpeted mosque for a photo. It’s meant to be men only. Return to the sanctuary of the hotel for a much needed cold beer. Venture out after dinner to Sultanahmet a a few photos. There’s a real buzz and everyone is having fun. Plenty of people picnicking in the parks.