To set the scene. I’m in a candlelit courtyard tapping away at this blog. It feels like I’m in the 17th Century as having to type with a candle next to the keyboard.
Wake up in a better frame of mind and checking out of hotel they take my rucksack for secure storage whilst I blitz the sights. I really need more time here to do it all justice but not helped by the faff from yesterday.
Stay local to Sultanahmet and visit Aya Sophia and Topkapi Palace. Walking into Aya Sophia, I’m struck by the magnitude of the construction. Notwithstanding the huge scaffold tower that takes over a third of the building, it’s colossal. An amazing structure.
The Topkapi Palace is behind and I quickly visit as I have lunch to eat and a ferry to catch. The treasury reminds me of the Grune Gewolbe in Dresden with its stunning jewellery. As I enter the harem, a shifty looking local sidles up to me and says “How big your shoe?”. UK13/EUR47 I say. Wow says he. They’re big says he. Indeed they are say I and will be painful if you try to rob me.
Final lunch in the hotel courtyard and retrieve bag from storage. Am told it’ll be out front so exit and wait for my taxi. The doorman says “Bursa?” Yes. “Ferry?” Yes. “Your taxi’s there, Sir”. But where’s my bag. “Your bag is in the boot, Sir”. Now that’s service and with that am waved off.
Short wait before boarding the fast ferry to Bursa port. I’ve upgrade to Business Class for the grand sum of 33pence – one Turkish lira.
It takes 90mins across the Sea of Marmara past the vast quantities of container ships. Blue sky. Blue Sea. Nice and calm not like the horrific catamaran crossing I did last year from Poole to Cherbourg. That was rough.
Greeted by hotel transfer to Bursa city 30mins away at high speed. Glad the hotel organised the transfer as a taxi would never have found the hotel. It’s down some side alleyways which come to a dead end and so narrow we have to squeeze out of the van doors. Driver insists on taking my rucksack but regrets it when he takes the load and hands me over to hotel owner. She confirms the night rate and I ask how much the transfer is. Nothing. It’s free. With our compliments. Wow. That is service.
Bursa was the former Ottoman capital and sits in a valley surrounded by mountain ranges. Explore the old town. Everyone is seemingly out and about. Women sitting on carpets outside the mosque as the men pray inside. Chatter. Chatter. Chatter. As they do.
Parts of the town look slightly Germanic/Alpine in places and reminds me of Campos de Jordao in Sao Paulo state, Brasil – an Alpine town in the tropics.
Dinner in the candlelit courtyard (think old merchant’s house) and reading a news article about likely terrorist attacks in the Middle East this weekend when all of a sudden an explosion goes off near the hotel. As my mind is reading about bomb alerts and the like my heart skips a beat until I realise it’s a far too loud a firework going off in celebration. Phew.
View from room….not bad eh
Aya Sophia
