Chiang Mai

Like Ponta do Sol in Portugal, Chiang Mai has become a haven for digital nomads.  It’s easy to get a short-term visa, it has good and consistent wi-fi, and the city itself has set up many co-working spaces to accommodate the influx of temporary immigrants.  After hearing so much about the place, I had to spare some time to explore it.  After Madeira, this was my secondary relocation candidate.

After an hour flight from Bangkok, I grabbed a cab for the short trip to my new home for the week.  The host of my AirBNB met me at the place, a high-rise, modern-looking condo on a busy street.  Like the last condo in Bangkok, the place had its own security detail both inside and outside as well as a small coffee shop just inside the entrance.  The host led me through the lobby, through a service hallway (there were desks for arranging tours, providing rent and/or lease info, and arranging taxis and transfers to the airport), through the seemingly endless parking garage … where the hell was this place?  Finally, we came to a glassed-in mini lobby in Building B with a seating area just a few feet away from the elevators and stairs.  My place was on the twelfth floor at the end of the hall – a maddeningly long way to walk after a tiring travel day with all my luggage, but it turned out to be a nice place.

The host was amazingly thorough in her preparations.  She’d laid out a book full of suggested sites to see while in the city, instructions on the appliances, and all her contact info.  She’d even provided snacks, water, and laundry detergent, more than I’d seen from pretty much all the hosts so far.  I was impressed.

After missing out on the pool in Bangkok, I made sure to spend some time in the rooftop pool.  I even had it to myself for a while.  Very nice on a hot day.

Setting out to see the city, I was immediately struck by the small-town vibe of the place.  Sure, there are the same massage parlors and weed shops interspersed with restaurants and souvenir shops that you find in Bangkok.  There was still too much traffic on the roads, fewer taxis, but more of these red trucks that were good for moving a group of people.

At the same time, the sidewalks are mostly deserted during the day.  I kept wondering that first day if it was a holiday or something because I often had the sidewalk to myself.  I did notice a bunch of girls in school uniforms which made me think that Thailand has year-round school. There were the usual food carts scattered around and tended by bored-looking Thai people. The place feels kind of sleepy and not in a good way.

But, just like Bangkok, everything changes when the sun goes down.  The Night Bazaar occurs just down the street from my apartment and it seems like the entire town is in the streets.  They’re selling you stuff, or putting on live performances, or just shopping at the numerous stalls that are set up on the streets.

This was by far the strangest display I saw.  It’s not like you can take any of this stuff on a plane and the country won’t let you ship weapons so … I guess you just have to use your throwing star locally then leave it in Thailand?  Somehow, I think that would negate coming to a peaceful country in the first place.

Elephants are big here.  They are all over the place in the form of statues, paintings, bas relief images on walls.  One of the big tourist draws are the numerous elephant sanctuaries where you can take pictures and interact with them.  I couldn’t resist buying a couple pairs of comfy, airy pants with the animals emblazoned on them.  The pants are sold everywhere and many people walking around wore them.

A bit about the food.  Just as in Bangkok, it seems like every nationality is represented in the food.  I had something called shakshouka for breakfast one morning.  It is two fried eggs in tomato sauce with some frybread and a small salad originating from North Africa and the Middle East. I saw it on the menu and was intrigued.  It was surprisingly tasty.

Continuing to explore food for breakfast, I wandered into one of the street markets and found a restaurant nestled among the clothing stalls.  I ordered the only thing that sounded familiar, chicken soup, and this was the result.  A little intimating (how are you supposed to handle the chicken foot?  Is the brown cube of jelly supposed to be eaten or is it just there for flavoring?) but not a bad meal.

I found this great bakery catering to the American expats called Sunday Bakery.  Had a yummy buttermilk scone and a sparkling peach tea.  A nice snack that really hit the spot.

(Seriously?  I swear this place is haunting me.)

As there is a Hard Rock Café there, I had to buy my shirt.  They have live music at night which just adds to the cacophony of the Night Bazaar (also in walking distance from my apartment, the café is right in the middle of the Bazaar).

After a week and a half of passing by numerous massage parlors (how on Earth are you supposed to pick one over another? What makes one stand out over the others?) I chose a place that looked a bit like what I’m used to in America.  There were no bored masseurs sitting out front trying to wrangle customers.  This was a quiet place off the main road with an actual receptionist.  I told her what I wanted and (surprise) she could fit me in right away.  After a few minutes, I was shown to a room and told to disrobe.  That’s it.  I didn’t have to provide my name, address, next of kin, credit rating, or blood sample like I would in America.  It’s just come on in, get nekkid, and let this surprisingly strong Thai woman put her greasy hands all over me.  It was a good massage, if a bit strange.  The chick was all over the table, kneeling over me (not stepping on my back, mind you) and even putting me in a full nelson to crack my back.  A very thorough session that had me a little dizzy afterwards.  All for about $55 USD.

My last full day in Chiang Mai and I decided to do some more exploring on foot.  I crossed a couple of bridges and ended up in the less touristy part of town.  A tuk-tuk driver passed by and asked if I needed a ride.  I declined, saying I was just off exploring.  Then it started to rain and I regretted that decision.  Not to worry.  The driver had circled the block and met me again as I was walking past.  He pitched some of the touristy things he could take me to at a price of 400 baht for a couple of hours.  Since it was raining and I was far from the apartment – sure, dude I don’t know.  Drive me further away from the familiar in this foreign country in the rain.  I’ll just have to trust that you won’t abandon me somewhere (or worse).

The driver introduced himself as Nui then took my picture to send to his wife.  I was only the third customer he’d had that day and he was just about to pack it in.  He wanted to let his wife know that he wouldn’t be home right away as he had an actual fare.  He asked me what I had seen of the city and was shocked that I hadn’t visited the temples or the elephant sanctuary (feels exploitative to me – try watching the documentary Blackfish and see it as anything else.  These animals aren’t on this planet to entertain us.)

It started to rain in earnest as we headed out of the city.  Being a vehicle in Thailand, the rickety tuk-tuk was equipped with plastic sheets on the sides to keep out the rain.  But I just had to be macho when he first offered to lower them.  By our first stop, the seat on either side of me was covered in water.  I just tried to stay in the middle as much as possible. 

Instead of the touristy stuff, he took me to a series of warehouse just outside of town.  Oh.  Now I get it.  He must get a kickback for bringing people out there when normally a tourist wouldn’t know anything about these places.  The first place housed two sections, one for silver jewelry and the other for clothing and household goods.  The jewelry section was huge with multiple display cases and a very attentive woman watching to see what drew my eye so she could take it out.  There’s a reason I had her full attention as I was the only mark – I mean customer – in the place.  I got out of there with an elephant ring that is quite nice.  To someone who doesn’t wear rings.

The second part of this factory was run by a slippery Persian man who showed me scarves.  Then bedding.  Then rugs (which immediately made me think of Zaza).  The man was a damn good salesman and got me to spend way more than I had ever planned on a couple of scarves and a woven wall-hanging.  He was still trying to sell me stuff while I was heading out the door.

The next stop was another warehouse full of gems, statuary, and more jewelry.  This time I had three ladies following me around as they had no other customer in the building.  Within minutes of arriving in the building, I found myself sitting on a stool while two Thai women scouted around for my holes.  And being the boring grandma that I am, the reality was not as nasty as it sounds.  I had noticed a pendant that I liked and asked about the matching earrings.  They took them out for me to try on and, after two years of quarantine, I couldn’t get the things into my ears.  The ladies, being ever accommodating of the rare customer, sat me down and spent the next five minutes trying to get the jewelry in my ears while muttering to each other in Thai.  I had to laugh.  My life has gotten so weird(er)!

Needless to say, once they got the things in my ears, they had a sale.  I took the jewelry and headed back to the tuk-tuk.  Nui drove me to the last place on the agenda, a massive leather factory.  This attendant of yet another building devoid of customers showed me the different kinds of hides that the factory dealt in, then showed me to the handbags.  I had no intention of buying anything, but once again, I spotted something I liked and the attendant jumped at the chance to show me.  For some reason, I was drawn to anything made from elephant.  The woman quickly pointed out that the animal had not died for me.  Instead, it had died of natural causes and then been promptly chopped up and made into accessories! (I’m paraphrasing). I ended up with a nice backpack and a matching wallet.

After that, I was more than done with shopping.  I was already trying to figure out how to get all this stuff in my bag when Nui offered to take me somewhere else.  I don’t think so.  I asked him to take me back to the condo instead, pleased that he didn’t try to overcharge me or change the price he’d first quoted (I’d been warned about scammers).

Final verdict on Chiang Mai … meh.  Being a sensitive, how a place feels is very important to me.  As strange as it is, I felt more at home in Istanbul than I did in Chiang Mai.  And I felt like an alien in Istanbul.  The Thai people are wonderful, they speak more English than the Turks, food is cheap and plentiful, and the US dollar goes a long way.  But … I don’t know.  I just don’t think it’s a good fit for several reasons.

Not to get too graphic on you, but I had constipation twice while in the city.  I can’t even remember the last time I had this issue – in fact, I usually have the opposite problem because of all the water I drink.  I knew not to drink the water there, a habit I’ve picked up from the last two countries I’ve visited.  But something there, whether the water or the food, did not agree with me. 

The weather was yet another issue.  Excess rain depresses me under normal conditions, but when you have a place that has an established rainy season (along with a dry and a burning season), you know it’s going to be an ongoing problem.  I understand that the rain is more of an issue when you have to commute or regularly go out in it.  Being in a WFH situation is different than being a tourist, but I could still get just as depressed while sitting in my home office.

Also, I was walking back from dinner after dark one night and something raced across my path.  I’m pretty sure it wasn’t a Christmas elf.  That was the first time in my travels that I’d encountered a living rode (I did see a dead one in Amsterdam – ew.) and is yet another strike against this place.

Chiang Mai is a nice place to visit, but I don’t think I can live there.

Bangkok Part 2

I met an expat from Canada while having breakfast one morning.  She is a digital nomad who’s been in Bangkok for the last five months.  When I informed her that I was test-driving Thailand as a new home, she was full of helpful info on where I should go next and what it was like to live in the city.  She confirmed that her rent and utilities were very low and she was able to skirt around the issues of gaining permanent residence by leaving the country just before her visa expired and then having a new one issued upon her return.  Something I hear is a common practice in the country.

The Buddhist religion is woven into every aspect of this society.  There are temples everywhere (again, not on my to-do list for sightseeing) and shrines seem to pop up every few feet.  There are also multiple pictures of the royal family erected in front of buildings.  Disparaging the family in any way will result in severe penalties.  I chose not to find out what those were as Thai prisons are infamously terrible places to be.

I cannot get a handle on the Thai money.  I don’t know if I’m still in Turkish mode or what, but the money confuses me.  I have to squint at it for several seconds before handing out the right bills, even with the different colors.  For reference (this changes on the regular, but this is the conversion rate as of this writing)

1 USD = 35.21 Thai Baht

1 USD = 25.12 Turkish Lira

1 USD = 1.79 Bulgarian Lev

1 USD = .91 euro (Greece, Portugal, Dublin, and The Netherlands among others)

As for the language … wow.  Thai, for the record, is considered one of the hardest languages to learn for foreigners.  On this journey, I’ve picked up a few words in Portuguese, Greek, and Turkish.  I didn’t even try to learn any Gaelic, Bulgarian or Dutch.  Thai is the worst of all to get a handle on.  I can’t even say thank you with any confidence.  It’s just a tough one.  Thank goodness the Thai people are very patient and accustomed to dealing with ignorant foreigners.

I didn’t realize it was Pride Month until I saw all the rainbow decorations.  Apparently, Thailand is a haven for the LGTBQ+ community.  The more you know.

I don’t know that I saw many gay couples, but I did see a bunch of older white men with young Thai women.  Way to live that cliché, guys.

Durian is a famously pungent fruit sold in SE Asia and it is all over the place here.  Smell it once and you will never forget it.  Not only is it sold fresh, but in dried and potato chip form (Asian countries will turn any flavor into a snack food).

7-11 rules here.  You can usually find one every few feet and that’s just on the side of the road you happen to be walking on.  They’re easier to spot than the grocery stores, most of which don’t even have storefronts as they are located in the basements of malls.

Bangkok is famous for more than just debauchery.  Shopping is big here and you have multiple options for spending all your money.  There are the street markets, the night markets (the daytime markets on turbo), and several megamalls.  The first one I went to was called Terminal 21.  

Easily accessed by BTS (the elevated train that runs the length of Sukhumvit), this mall is incredible.  I love the theming of the place.  The mall is on six or seven levels and each level has a location theme.  Rome, San Francisco, Tokyo, Istanbul (freaking Turkiye, man!), and more are represented in the mall while each escalator acts as the ‘flight’ to that city.  You even pass through a fake metal detector when you first enter the building.  It’s pretty impressive.

My last night in the city, I ventured out to yet another mall.  IconSiam is a different beast altogether from Terminal 21.  It’s more like three malls all smashed together.  One part is the posh section with the high-end stores like Fendi, Mark Jacobs, and Chanel. And Tesla and Porsche.  Why on Earth are there car dealerships inside a multi-level mall?

The second part on the lowest floor is more like the Bangkok street markets, a chaotic arrangement of little food stalls, vendors and live entertainment. 

The third part is literally across the main street.  I don’t know that it’s officially part of IconSiam, but it might as well be.  The two buildings are connected by a raised platform that leads to the train station.

The back of the main building leads right to a pier.  From here you can get a water taxi or take dinner time cruises. 

The place was packed that evening with people getting on and off the cruises, hanging out at the cafes, or taking pictures among all the lights.  At one point the fountains came on and put on a light show.  It was all pretty cool.

(By the way, I don’t know who this chick is, but she stepped in front of me while I had my phone out, so I snapped her picture.  Why not?)

As for living in Bangkok, I don’t know.  The vibe, like I mentioned is interesting.  The American dollar goes a long way, you don’t even have to know how to cook to eat very well there, and English is widely spoken.  The city is walkable and the public transport system is excellent with the BTS and the abundance of taxis and buses.  The weather is … challenging.  You’re either wet from the heat or from the rain.  I'm still leaning towards Portugal, I think.  I don’t know if it’s because I went there first or did the most research on moving there, but it’s still the place I’m feeling the most.  I already consider Madeira, and not Georgia, home at this point.  I’m not sure if that will change during the rest of my stay in Thailand, but only time will tell.

 

One Night -- I mean Week in Bangkok

A clichéd title, but hey, I am a child of the 80’s.  Not to mention the fact that that song was running though my head the entire time I was in the city.

That wasn’t the only way my head was messed up upon starting my three weeks in Thailand.  My last night in Istanbul still loomed large in my memory for multiple reasons.  More on that later.

First, getting to Thailand.  I’d been through Istanbul airport twice by this point so I thought I knew what to expect.  Ha!  The second you enter the departures section of the place, they scan your bags.  I initially thought that this was a time-saving measure and a lot less intrusive than the full security scan.  No, this was just the preliminary scan.  You still have to go through security later just like with any other flight.  This is just an extra annoyance since one security check isn’t enough fun.

My first flight was mercifully short at 3 ½ hours.  Then it was time for what I knew was going to be a long layover in Kuwait airport.  It immediately got off to a bad start.  Coming off the plane, they make you go through security.  Huh?  Everything got scanned again and they even made me turn on my laptop and tablet.  When the agent told me to leave those items out, I heard him, but had no idea why he’d ask me to do that.  He had to tell me twice more before I understood him.  Still don’t understand the need to turn the machines on (again, I was coming off a flight and was only in the airport for a transfer), only to immediately turn them off once the staff were satisfied that they were actual computers and not mock-ups.  How paranoid can you get?

The airport was deserted when my plane landed, but over that almost 6-hour layover, the place filled up fast.  Why so long a layover when that’s not what I signed up for?  Because mine was the only flight that got delayed.  Great. 

I had way too much time to wander the airport, noting just how much it was designed for this region of the world.  I know nothing about Kuwait but judging by the number of head scarf/burka wearing women, I’d say I was still in deeply Muslim territory.  There is a separate meditation/prayer room for men and women on each floor (also in Istanbul airport).  This sign was posted by the bathroom sink across from a separate stall with a squat toilet, something I’d never seen before.

It was another seven hours to Thailand, then a good hour of wait time in the airport.  I wasn’t scheduled to get to my AirBNB until 2 and I’d arrived before noon.  The host texted me that the room was ready early, so I grabbed a taxi and headed in.  The taxi driver was another beaut – he kept talking into this phone in Thai (not a conversation, mind you, he was the only one speaking) while weaving in and out of traffic.

Just as Istanbul was multicultural chaos, Bangkok is chaos: Asian style.  They drive on the other side of the street and the other side of the car. Traffic is crazy with a massive number of motorcycles weaving in and out between the cars, in the shoulder, in the opposite lane as they’re passing.  Again, it was time to keep my head down and hope we didn’t have an accident.

Good thoughts worked again and we made it to the condo in one piece.   The gated high rise has a pool and a gym on the first floor that I could access (but didn’t).  The host left instructions for me to get in and I managed to make my way to the very nice apartment.  A small studio designed with Asian efficiency with everything you need in it.  

 

Covid still has its sickly sway over this country.  Understandable since Asian countries, with their huge, densely populated cities, have dealt with more than their fair share of outbreaks.  Masks are still widely worn here, even on the streets.  Since I didn’t want to stand out any more than I do as a single, almost six-foot tall, black woman(!) roaming the streets, I also put on the mask.  That was not an easy habit to maintain because of the heat.

I knew I was coming to Thailand during the rainy season (also the off-season for tourism), so I was always prepared for a downfall by carrying my umbrella.  But the heat was much more than I was ready to handle.  As soon as I would step out of an air-conditioned building, my glasses would fog up and I’d start sweating.  By the end of the day, I was a damp, sticky mess.

Part of the sweating resulted from just getting out of the condo.  My building was the furthest back from the road of the three buildings in the complex (you can search online for Chambers On Nut for more pictures).  It was nice and quiet because of this, making it easy to forget that the complex is located just a short walk from Sukhumvit Road, the main drag of the city.  To get to that road, you have to get off the side road by hugging the nearest walls on the rarely-there shoulder or the short, intermittent sidewalks while remembering that Thais drive on the opposite side of the road and praying you don’t get clipped by a passing motorcycle. Just trying to get to the main road was enough of a chore to get the sweat pouring.

Part of the reason this side road was so busy was because of the motorcycle taxi stand on the corner.  At any given time, there would be a line of dudes on either side of the road waiting for fares.  Then, with a helmet-less passenger clinging to them for dear life, they would speed off around that corner.  I avoided at least three near-collisions with guys doing this.  I still don’t know why there aren’t more dead bodies on the city streets.

If you’re familiar with the Murray Head song referenced in the title of this post, you know it mentions the bars, temples, and massage parlors all over the city.  That song was released in the 80’s and nothing has changed in that regard.  Walking down Sukhumvit, getting a lay of the land, it is indeed one massage parlor after another.  Mixed in with those are the restaurants, bars, and the occasional weed shop.  And in front of all of those are small carts of people selling all kinds of things; fresh fruit, smoothies, Thai sticks of various meats, desserts – you name it.  No really, you name it.  I passed by all these carts completely baffled as to what I was looking at most of the time.

I am not a foodie.  I didn’t go there to eat.  That and the sheer volume, variety and availability of food is rather intimidating.  Eating in Thailand for me was a lot of ‘I don’t know what this is, but I’m gonna put it in my face.  Hey!  That’s not too bad!’  I did try some street food, but mostly stuck with restaurants where at least I had a written description of what I was about to eat.

The number of carts multiplied exponentially once night fell.  The night markets would crop up everywhere selling food as well as clothing, shoes, and household appliances.  There were even a bunch of ladies doing manicures on the street.  Only at night, though.  Once daylight came, all the structures would be dismantled only to go right back up the next night.

Once again, I can’t give you any firsthand experience with the infamous nightlife of Bangkok.  Obviously, I wasn’t there to get blackout drunk and troll for Thai women, but even I could feel the energy of the place.  While there are people walking around and handling their business during the day, it feels like the city is just recovering from the previous evening and getting ready for the night to come. That’s some powerful stuff and I can see the attraction.

Istanbul Part 2

 

The coffee culture has amazed me in every country I’ve been in.  Even though the Turks had their own coffee from way back, they have also adapted to the more modern lists of coffee concoctions.  It’s not advisable to drink the water there, but for a caffeine fix, the city has you covered.  You can go anywhere in the city and get an Americano, an espresso, a cappuccino.  But I was in Türkiye.  I had to try their famous coffee at least once before I left.

I followed a suggestion on my phone to this little out of the way place for my first and only Turkish breakfast.  I had no idea what I was ordering or what to expect but I’m here to say: Turkish breakfast is amazing.  I’m not even going to tell you what’s in those little cups.  You’ll just have to go to Turkiye and experience it for yourself.

The coffee is strong and very chocolate-y with a bunch of silt at the bottom of the tiny cup (Greek coffee was the same).  They ask if you want it sugared or not (definitely order sugar) and they give you a little glass of water with it to clear the palette.  Despite being mired in tradition, the coffee has been relegated to special occasions.  Modern Turks actually drink tea all day.  In any marketplace, you can see men walking around with trays loaded with cups of tea to deliver to shopkeepers throughout the day.  When the lovely waitress offered me more bread and tea, I said yes to both.  Everything was just so tasty.

I’d learned from a meal earlier in the week: when they give you the little cup of tea, don’t touch it.  It’s served boiling hot so you can’t drink it right away.  Just put in the sugar cube, stir it, then let it sit for a minute.  Then when you can touch it without burning your fingers, take a tiny sip to test the temperature.  It’s good tea and worth the wait.

My last day in Istanbul in three words: OH MY GOD!

Saturday was a particularly gorgeous day.  The weather during my entire stay had been great – rainy when I arrived and overcast on one morning, but other than that, every day was mid-70’s and sunny.  I’ve already explained that I’m not a fan of entering religious buildings as a tourist – makes me uncomfortable.  But as there are numerous historic buildings in Istanbul and I had yet to see any of the touristy parts, I figured I’d make an effort on my last day.

I also wanted to finally figure out the transit system.  I had purchased an Istanbulcart card, a multi-day pass for tourists to use on most means of public transit.  Tried to use it on the subway and it didn’t work.  Did some research that evening and found out the card has no credit on it (!).  You have to do that separately – which is stupid, but okay.  Went to charge it the next day and it said the card couldn’t be charged.  What.  The.  Hell? 

Cut to that Saturday.  I tried to charge the card using a different machine when a little girl gestured to me that the machine didn’t work.  She pointed me to the machines used by the locals for the more permanent transit cards.  Guess what?  I couldn’t get that one to work either.  Ah, screw it.  I’ll just take a trip on the ferry instead.

I’d planned a tour of the Bosphorus anyway, so now seemed the right time.  My neighborhood of Kadikoy is considered the trendy area with all the shops and cafes.  Across a short stretch of water lay the Karakoy (sounds the same but are two different places) neighborhood with many of the historical churches and buildings.  I decided to see the Galata Tower first as it was a famous landmark.

This is where my time in Portugal comes in handy.  The Tower is in an ancient section of town.  The roads are made of old, uneven cobblestone up some impressive hills.  I saw other tourists stop to rest as they tried to make it up this beast.

This isn’t even the full hill.  It makes a turn, so I couldn’t get it all in one picture.  But it is ugly.  And a pretty typical hill in Portugal, so I was able to make it up without rest or injury.  Yay me!

The tower was beautiful – from the outside.  I didn’t even try to get in because the line was way too long.  Instead, I took my pictures, bought my simit for the day, and explored the surroundings.  As I was sitting and eating by a fountain, I started to actually feel the place.  Yes, Istanbul is chaotic and I don’t know what anyone is saying, but the history in every building, the music coming from all around, the interesting mix of cultures and religions that are woven into the city is just mesmerizing.  I can understand how the city draws in so many visitors. 

Simit done, I made my way across Galata Bridge to the Egyptian Bazaar, a famed marketplace.  It consists of a glut of stores and stalls before you get to a large gate.  That was a struggle getting through the narrow, incredibly clogged alley.  I was tired of being jostled even before I got to the gate.  And then onto … The Grand Bazaar in two words: sensory overload.  There is so much to see that you end up not seeing anything.  It was purses, and rugs, and spices, and jewelry, and shoes and … so much stuff.  And so many people angling to get to that stuff and hawkers trying to get you to look at their stuff and the sounds and the smells and …  As with the rest of Istanbul, it was a lot.

I couldn’t stay long.  Even with all there was to see, the crush of people wore me out pretty quickly.  I exited the Bazaar and figured I’d head over to the Blue Mosque, a famous temple.  On the way there, a man speaking English stopped to inform me that the Mosque was currently closed to anyone but worshippers.  If I were to come back, I’d need to cover my hair (I knew that, but I just wanted to see the mosque, not enter it).  Instead, he suggested coming to his rug shop.  I started walking and he kept pace with me, telling me about the area. He led me to the basement of his shop to show me his art – the most gorgeous handmade rugs.  He invited me to tea in the sitting area (tea and hospitality are very big with the Turks) and the rugs were forgotten as we just talked. 

His name is Zaza and he called me delicious.

This is his rug shop where we had tea.

And this is the view from his apartment.

And that’s all I will say about Zaza except that he is the sweetest man I have ever met and I will remember him for the rest of my life.

Never did get to see the Blue Mosque, though.

Making my way back from his place in the growing dusk, down unfamiliar Turkish streets, I was still reeling over meeting that man.  I got back to the ferry muttering OMG the entire time.  The sun began to set and a couple of musicians started to perform in the back of the ferry.  It made the whole trip home even more surreal and beautiful.

No headache upon my return to the apartment this day.  I was way too freaked out to absorb much of anything between his apartment and mine.

The next day, I packed up to leave.  I had declined breakfast with Zaza by WhatsApp and instead climbed into a cab ... driven by another crazy cab driver.  Honestly, I barely noticed.  My brain was still too fried.  Only one thing I can say about my visit.

Freaking Turkiye, man.

Istanbul Part 1

 

My time in Turkiye began with the kindness of one man and ended with the kindness of another.  The country is now burned onto my memory when it was only meant to be my gateway to Southeast Asia.

Freaking Turkiye, man.

In planning my next move after Bulgaria, I was a bit troubled.  I want to hit Thailand, Singapore and Cambodia then, hopefully, I’ll also dip down to Australia (Melbourne) and New Zealand.  Here’s the problem:  Singapore requires a return plane ticket and the last two countries just entered winter (the seasons are reversed in that part of the world).  The whole trip requires a bit more time and planning.  Since most of the flights I found would end up routing me through Istanbul anyway, I figured, screw it.  Just go to Istanbul for a week, check it out, then dip down from that huge international airport.

As I had already bused across Bulgaria from Sofia to Sunny Beach and, since Turkiye is right over the border, I thought to save a trip to the airport and just bus it again.  Sigh.  I feel that was a mistake.

The bus ride took forever.  That was a long eight hours and a big two-hour chunk of that was spent on the nightmare of Turkish border control.  I admit it.  I got too complacent.  Every country I’ve been to so far didn’t require a visa, so I stopped checking.  And thinking that I was just crossing from Bulgaria into Turkiye, I assumed that the rules would be the same. 

AMERICANS NEED A VISA TO VISIT TURKIYE.  If anyone from the U.S.A. wants to visit the country, please do your research beforehand. You need to apply for an e-visa online to save yourself the panic I experienced at that crowded patrol office.  Though this wasn’t explained to me at the time, I probably could have applied for a visa on my phone if I weren’t so taken aback and unfamiliar with the process.

Without a visa, I was scrambling from person to person trying to resolve the manner.  It didn’t help that most barely spoke English and could not care less about my plight.  The nearby convenience store did not have an ATM and the office did not accept cards.  And, of course I didn’t have any Turkish Lira as I hadn’t even entered the country yet.  All I had were a few Bulgarian Lev, maybe $10 American, and a few euros.  Not enough to equal the 637 Turkish Lira required for the visa (equivalent of $30 US).

Just as I figured I was about to be stranded on the Bulgarian side of border patrol with nowhere to go and no way to get there, the driver paid for my visa from his own pocket.  I couldn’t thank him enough (or at all, he spoke Bulgarian and Turkish only), but he took my ATM card as collateral so that I’d pay him back.  And after every passenger had to show our passports not once, not twice, but three times, we then had to get all out luggage off the bus to be scanned.  This was worse than going to the airport.  At least the staff there were better organized.  More proof of this was the mile-long line of cars we passed that were trying to get out of Turkiye and into Bulgaria.

When we were finally cleared to leave, I worried for the rest of the bus ride.  I know worry is useless, but I was already on edge from my lack of planning for the visa and my brain tends to dwell on the nightmare scenarios.  What if he loses my card?  What if he left it at the patrol desk?  What if he forgets about it and leaves the country with it?  What if my card doesn’t work at the ATM? And, yes, I had alerted my bank that I was going to Turkiye.  But there’s always that little fear in the back of my mind that the card won’t work when I first put it into a foreign ATM, or it will get eaten or something.  Then what do I do?

We finally reached the bus station in Istanbul, and I flagged the man down.  He led me to an ATM where (yay!) the card worked, and I gave him 800 liras.  The man actually reached for his wallet to give me change.  Are you serious, dude?   You just saved my bacon.  I don’t want your change.  I waved him off and said thank you again.  He shook my hand and walked off while I went in search of a cab.

I had no preconceived notions about Turkiye, didn’t know much about it at all.  I didn’t realize that Istanbul straddles two continents and has multiple cultural districts.  Since the cab driver didn’t speak much English, we used the translation app on his phone to communicate.  The bus station was in the European section and he explained to me that we had to cross the water to get to the Asian section.  I had no idea what any of that meant so I just nodded and went along with it.

Prior to this travel journey, I’d rarely used taxis.  Atlanta is a big car town, so I just didn’t need to use taxis very often.  I realize that taxi drivers know the roadways inside and out, they know the best routes, and how to get around in traffic.  There is a great deal of trust you have to put in them to get you where you’re going safely.  That having been said, every taxi driver I’ve encountered is out of his or her freaking mind! Istanbul is no exception.  The cabbies there drive at warp speed even in the mild drizzle going on in the city when I arrived.  They love to speed up on a car then honk to get that car out of their way.  You know those lines they paint on the streets?  Yeah, those are just suggestions in Istanbul.  People just drive in the middle of those lines, drive diagonally, slip by other cars so closely you’d expect to see sparks flying.  It is just … wow.  I’ve learned to close my eyes and just pray to whatever deity may be listening for a safe journey.  It’s worked out well so far.

Somehow, we made it to the place.  Parking in the city is non-existent, so the man had to jam his way into a one-way street to let me out.  The apartment was a pleasant surprise.  Very clean with a full kitchen and a washer.  I think this is the first time I’ve seen a full-size fridge in Europe.  The thing is taller than I am.  That’s unusual but cool.

The host had left out two pairs of slippers along with the towels as it is customary to take your shoes off when entering the home.  I’d gotten into that habit in Bulgaria, so that wasn’t an issue.  Finding outlets was an issue (again) as the only place to set up my computer was the dining room table.  The only available outlet meant that the cord was draped in front of the bedroom door.  I had to constantly remind myself not to trip over it.

Exploring the city the next day, I quickly stumbled upon the rail station.  I noted it but kept walking.  I also discovered my new favorite food in the country. This is a Turkish bagel called a simit.

It is cheap, plentiful, and delicious.  I bought one every day I was in Turkiye and highly recommend them to anyone going there.  Just go up to a cart and say ‘Bir simit lutfen’ (one bagel please).  Tesekkurler (thanks).  There are accents on some of these Turkish words, but there’s no way I can do them with an American keyboard.

Seeing the variety of people in this country was very interesting.  There were many women wearing headscarves, if not full burkas.  I saw one woman whose entire skin, even her hands, were covered and all you could see were her eyes.  Then, not a few feet away, a woman walked by with a bare midriff and purple hair.  It was very strange.  Seeing the contrast did make me feel very comfortable with the long pants and t-shirts I was wearing.  No one paid any attention to anyone’s dress or skin color.  Everyone was too busy just trying to maneuver around the pedestrians, cars and motorcycles to even notice anyone else existed.

Turkiye ups the ante from Bulgaria and Greece in the number of stray cats on the streets.  There are also stray dogs there.  Big ones.  It was initially a little unnerving to see these 100-pound dogs just lying in the middle of the sidewalk. But they act just like the cats.  They are well fed and don’t even pay much attention to pedestrians.  They aren’t aggressive or loud, they just hang out and everyone expects them to just be around. 

My neighborhood is called Kadikoy, a very busy place near the harbor.  Plenty of restaurants, shops, and grocery stores in every direction.  Something I noted both here and in Bulgaria is there are a lot of places that sell ornate evening gowns and wedding attire.  There were several multi-level stores featuring the most gorgeous designs. 

As I am a fan of green spaces, I was thrilled to find this park a block away from my apartment.  

What was even better was its proximity to yet another park near the harbor. 

Istanbul, while beautiful and interesting, is exhausting.  Not like Rome where my legs were dead by the last day.  And not like Dublin when my feet were killing me from all the walking.  No, this is too much cigarette smoke, too many people, cars, honking horns (so many honking horns!), motorcycles, cats, dogs, uneven pavement – it’s just a bit much.  Add to that the serious language barrier and the place is mentally and emotionally draining.  Very few people speak English and I truly felt like an alien in the city.  I returned to the apartment every day with a mild headache.