Turkey, London and to Paris
Well hello folks, off we go again. Another year of hydrangeas, and off to play in the sunshine. We set off at the end of June, and so we have been away just over a week, (actually 2 weeks by the time I get to send this off). And it certainly has been a holiday beginning with some interesting challenges. We had a good flight over, emerged from the familiar arrivals hall of Ataturk Airport in Istanbul, making our way to a taxi to ferry us to our familiar WOW Airport Hotel. We tucked down early and woke to the news in the morning that 5 hours after we walked through the arrivals terminal it ended in tatters of bombs and bullets and fatal destruction.
In the morning we were having trouble getting through to Turkish Airlines, our next flight was cancelled of course, so we went out to the airport The media scrum was setting up and growing just outside the airport, it was astonishing, and when we came back at the end of the day it was like a city of dishes, and vans, the vultures waiting for more activity. We got the hotel shuttle there, and went into the departures and approached the check in desk, I showed the lady my home printed ticket asking what we should do because this flight was cancelled, so she promptly printed out a boarding pass for the same flight. I gently reminded her she had printed a boarding pass for a now nonexistent flight!!! We were sent to the next desk and received a boarding pass for later in the day, 5.25 departure. The terminal was fairly quiet, not that many people around, not even a policeman to be seen which alarmed us. We then got a taxi that took us down past the arrivals where we had happily walked out of 17 hrs earlier, they had tidied up such a lot in such a quick time, but it was eerily quiet, the repair crew still very busy, and parts of the ceiling still hanging down. After that we set about entertaining ourselves for the rest of the day, and at 10 got the shuttle to Sultanahmet, the old city in Istanbul. We walked up from the entrance of the old city, and were completely struck by the lack of people on the streets, no big buses filing one after the other with tourists to traipse their way through the mosques and Topkapi Castle, taking a photo of the Blue Mosque eerily unimpeded by people of every colour and race in the way of a good photo. There were less people than when I got up at 6am to beat the tourists for photos last year. However incredibly there were Police parked on every corner, with big powerful firearms. Joe kept saying, "do you think they know something we don't" I felt so safe there as there wasn't enough bang for buck for a terrorist. We called at our regular hotel Armagrandi to book our room for 15th Sept, he looked so sad I wanted to take him in my arms and comfort him. Everyone says how quite it all is, the new president is trying to eliminate tourism slowly but completely, as well as the squirmishes that have been happening in Turkey, and apparently foreign governments recommending people don’t visit Turkey
We had a nice beer at our favorite little Irish Bar, watching the entertaining ice cream vendor opposite, and then around the corner for some beautiful Kale Kesh and then we did what we were not going to do, caught a train back to the airport hotel. After a small wait it was time to return to Ataturk. The city of media had grown astonishingly. As we drove up to the departures, a Police shot around us with lights blazing, our driver had a few words with someone outside his window, and turned around with an ashen face and said another bomb gone off inside. He was very pale for a Turk all of a sudden. He put the phone in my hand with an interpreter who said something about we can go in but Police are not going in. None of it made sense and other people were entering, so we decided to just go for it. The police were having a real screaming match with a taxi driver, it sounded really heavy duty, by the time I got inside waiting to put our luggage through the xray I was shaking. The airport was just manic, of course with all these delayed planes to fill. What really struck us the most was a complete lack of presence of police or army or security. And yet in Sultanahment with barely anyone around they were everywhere. It was a relief to make it to the other side of passport control and then take off.
Things seem to go to plan now, the marina shuttle was on track, and soon we were back in the familiar surrounds again. It is ideal to have a couple of nights in the apartment when we arrive, with airconditioning to slowly acclimatize to the heat, which was quite a jump from 15C in NZ to a hefty 37C, and get our luggage into and unpacked on Wrighteau in the quiet of the next day. Then a few days to prepare Wrighteau and anti foul to get her into the water before we set off on our little European sojourn.
One thing we didn’t factor into it all was the end of Ramadan. At the end of the Ramadan fasting, there is a 4 day holiday, and on Monday we were the last boat to be launched at 12 pm. When in the launching pool we checked the boat was dry and not leaking, all good, so into gear, shaft in revolution mode, off we go. By the time we got around to the berth, we realized that water was gently trickling through the stuffer box. I got my best panic boots into action, and raced off to see if I could stop the launching crew, or our little sojourn to Europe land trip would be off the plan and constant pump out for the Ramadan holiday would have been on the table. I was so lucky to find them, all changed and ready to leave, but in very good humor, they lifted us back out. As you might imagine, spirits were slightly dampened, but we got ourselves ready for going away, and in the morning off we went.
3 days in London. We are members of the CA, (Cruising Association) a yachting association, and they have cabins available for members in their CA House, for a most reasonable £60 a night. It is situated in Limehouse Basin, a little marina off the Thames through a couple of lochs, and full of predominantly canal boats permanently based. They pay £10,000 a year to moor their boat here, but personally they look a little claustrophobic for my liking.
Limehouse was about 35 minutes walk from Tower Bridge, so not so far out, but each day meant tackling some sort of public transport, and in London that is frighteningly expensive. Especially at the beginning before we discovered the Oyster Card. Our first trip which took us in the Zone 1, so not far, cost £9.8 for the two of us. Goodness, that is NZ$8 each, to go from Karori to the city, or Greerton to Otumoetai. The sea of people everywhere and the stand still traffic jam problems in this city are a real nightmare. We often love to try the double decker buses to get an overview of the city, but crawling along slower than a crab beat us by the time we got to Victoria St and we hopped off to make a new plan. Our lovely Barbara has a son working in London and he sent through some restaurant ideas, so we made our way to Shoreditch, using directions on the phone. Tube went successfully, but we hit a snag when we tried to board a bus, “no ticket” We finally hailed a taxi, and, my word, it was worth the effort, a Peruvian restaurant, it had wonderful staff, and tapas to behold. We took to the streets to work some of that off, and of course got a little bit lost, so we popped into a lovely English little bar, watched some tennis with a small glass, to collect our thoughts again you understand. Then who should we become involved in some sporting banter with, but a first cousin of, not just someone we vaguely know back home, but of the Kings who I grew up with and very close friends from childhood, in the horse world and school. His family came to live in London when he was quite young. Just what are the chances???
So on that we made our way safely back to our end of town. Next day we foolishly forgot about the traffic jams and gave the big bus another go. We only made it to the changing of the guards this time, it was a fortuitous move to alight the bus here, we were just in time for the actual Changing of the Guards. And then we enjoyed a beautiful stroll through St James Park. Whatever anyone says about Royalty and their place in the world, Buckingham Palace teams with people milling around getting such enjoyment from it all. It is all just such a beautiful area to amble along, and up the Mall into Trafalgar Square, an ideal spot to sit with a traditional English steak and stout pie and watch the world go by.
We encountered a last minute ticket office and got some tickets to Kinky Boots. A musical. Brilliant. That’s all I can say, just brilliant. It revolved around a shoe factory, with transvestites involved. Very funny, and a good story line
The last day we had been in touch with our good friends, Mel and Jill. Mel is playing a lot of cricket in Essex, so the plan was for us to meet half way down at Tumbridge Wells. Woman are meant to be able to do two things at once, but on this occasion this woman dropped the ball. Sitting on the train I was also organizing our Euro Star tickets as we approached a place called Tonbridge. We just sort of got off. It wasn’t glaringly obvious to me that it missed the Wells and was spelt with an O and not a U. I was still battling with travel agent duties as Joe hopped around wondering why they were late. I didn’t mind as I was at a crucial stage in my booking process and their arrival might have sent me back to the beginning. At conclusion and back to concentrating on one thing, I realized we had hopped off one stop too soon. What a mistaka to maka. Turned out it was a good mistake. Mel and Jill came up to us, and we set off around the tiny English countryside lanes. Nobody was completely sure where we were going, but it didn’t matter one bit, as it was quite away from madding crowds, and so green and beautiful. We found a gorgeous country pub, The Spotted Dog, after which exercise was required, so a little cricket ground to the side of a mansion plonked in a paddock, and Joe and Mel launched into a couple of overs of fairly rusty cricket. There were a couple of good moves there though. We then discovered the Tumbridge Wells station finally. It was an awesome afternoon and thanks to M and J for giving us such a good outing
At the end of a busy day our one last trip to a local was in order, it was to be the Grapes. Excellent. Then out of the blue a rather scruffy looking chap walked in, wispy hair floating about, looking somewhat familiar, and it was only the one and only Sir Ian McKellen, who, we were to discover, owned that little pub on the Thames.
We asked all English the people we came across what they thought of Brexit, and apart from Mel, we didn’t honestly find one who was for it. And of course replacing all the restaurant and bar staff would be huge. We didn’t encounter one English accent in the waiting staff attending to us. Russian, Polish of course, Lithuanian, the list is endless. So that was a very interesting thing.
Another thing that has struck us is how helpful the people are. It is still a fairly surly journey on the underground, with people looking suspiciously at each other. But the staff in the public transport are outstanding, they obligingly want to go the extra mile without exception. On our last trip on the DLR to join the Underground at Bank, the DLR was closed for maintenance. This through us into all sorts or turmoil, but we discovered a bus to replace it. When we finally made it to a tube station it was Tower Bridge, not my original plan, but a simple question to the very dark underground assistant and he came down the escalator to the platform to personally assist us onto the train, and his instructions were so involved I almost had to return to my own research to get it clear. There is an abundance of good help available.
Then on one of the trains we had a good laugh, when the announcer came out with the usual, “please take all your belongings, mind the gap,” but then in this case an extra sentence “and please don’t put your hands in anybody else’s pockets”
So it is good bye to England and hello to France, via the very fast (249km) Euro star, through the Chunnel at 75 meters below the surface on the sea bed. When we arrived we were inundated with touting taxi drivers, who clearly didn’t recognize a couple of street smart savvie slightly getting older kiwi globe trotters, and just for the heck of it I asked how much to St Germain. The reply was an astronomically daft 75 Euro. I mean, how naïve do we really look. Well, I have only recently ventured into the world of UBER. We used it for the first time in London with wonderful success. The question was how would we go with a foreign language. I just figured if I gave all the exact details, we could not go wrong. They are amazing, they give the number plate we are looking for and the type of car, and on the phone can even see it hovering around. I could not have imagined a better outcome, for 8.60 Euro, (remember the taxi tried to extricate 75 from us) we were entertained with wrap, or it might have been hip hop, music darting in and out of little alleys, with me keeping a sharp eye on my google maps as to our whereabouts, and VOILA neck minute, here we were.
So that will do for now, we have been in Paris for one night and one eventful day. The big football cup is here, (I am a bit green when it comes to Football, so I’m not sure exactly what it is, but it is causing much hysteria) final in Paris tonight, so it promises to be full of colour. But here we are for now, 2 weeks away feels like longer.
Keeps safe, warm and well all
Au revoir
In the morning we were having trouble getting through to Turkish Airlines, our next flight was cancelled of course, so we went out to the airport The media scrum was setting up and growing just outside the airport, it was astonishing, and when we came back at the end of the day it was like a city of dishes, and vans, the vultures waiting for more activity. We got the hotel shuttle there, and went into the departures and approached the check in desk, I showed the lady my home printed ticket asking what we should do because this flight was cancelled, so she promptly printed out a boarding pass for the same flight. I gently reminded her she had printed a boarding pass for a now nonexistent flight!!! We were sent to the next desk and received a boarding pass for later in the day, 5.25 departure. The terminal was fairly quiet, not that many people around, not even a policeman to be seen which alarmed us. We then got a taxi that took us down past the arrivals where we had happily walked out of 17 hrs earlier, they had tidied up such a lot in such a quick time, but it was eerily quiet, the repair crew still very busy, and parts of the ceiling still hanging down. After that we set about entertaining ourselves for the rest of the day, and at 10 got the shuttle to Sultanahmet, the old city in Istanbul. We walked up from the entrance of the old city, and were completely struck by the lack of people on the streets, no big buses filing one after the other with tourists to traipse their way through the mosques and Topkapi Castle, taking a photo of the Blue Mosque eerily unimpeded by people of every colour and race in the way of a good photo. There were less people than when I got up at 6am to beat the tourists for photos last year. However incredibly there were Police parked on every corner, with big powerful firearms. Joe kept saying, "do you think they know something we don't" I felt so safe there as there wasn't enough bang for buck for a terrorist. We called at our regular hotel Armagrandi to book our room for 15th Sept, he looked so sad I wanted to take him in my arms and comfort him. Everyone says how quite it all is, the new president is trying to eliminate tourism slowly but completely, as well as the squirmishes that have been happening in Turkey, and apparently foreign governments recommending people don’t visit Turkey
We had a nice beer at our favorite little Irish Bar, watching the entertaining ice cream vendor opposite, and then around the corner for some beautiful Kale Kesh and then we did what we were not going to do, caught a train back to the airport hotel. After a small wait it was time to return to Ataturk. The city of media had grown astonishingly. As we drove up to the departures, a Police shot around us with lights blazing, our driver had a few words with someone outside his window, and turned around with an ashen face and said another bomb gone off inside. He was very pale for a Turk all of a sudden. He put the phone in my hand with an interpreter who said something about we can go in but Police are not going in. None of it made sense and other people were entering, so we decided to just go for it. The police were having a real screaming match with a taxi driver, it sounded really heavy duty, by the time I got inside waiting to put our luggage through the xray I was shaking. The airport was just manic, of course with all these delayed planes to fill. What really struck us the most was a complete lack of presence of police or army or security. And yet in Sultanahment with barely anyone around they were everywhere. It was a relief to make it to the other side of passport control and then take off.
Things seem to go to plan now, the marina shuttle was on track, and soon we were back in the familiar surrounds again. It is ideal to have a couple of nights in the apartment when we arrive, with airconditioning to slowly acclimatize to the heat, which was quite a jump from 15C in NZ to a hefty 37C, and get our luggage into and unpacked on Wrighteau in the quiet of the next day. Then a few days to prepare Wrighteau and anti foul to get her into the water before we set off on our little European sojourn.
One thing we didn’t factor into it all was the end of Ramadan. At the end of the Ramadan fasting, there is a 4 day holiday, and on Monday we were the last boat to be launched at 12 pm. When in the launching pool we checked the boat was dry and not leaking, all good, so into gear, shaft in revolution mode, off we go. By the time we got around to the berth, we realized that water was gently trickling through the stuffer box. I got my best panic boots into action, and raced off to see if I could stop the launching crew, or our little sojourn to Europe land trip would be off the plan and constant pump out for the Ramadan holiday would have been on the table. I was so lucky to find them, all changed and ready to leave, but in very good humor, they lifted us back out. As you might imagine, spirits were slightly dampened, but we got ourselves ready for going away, and in the morning off we went.
3 days in London. We are members of the CA, (Cruising Association) a yachting association, and they have cabins available for members in their CA House, for a most reasonable £60 a night. It is situated in Limehouse Basin, a little marina off the Thames through a couple of lochs, and full of predominantly canal boats permanently based. They pay £10,000 a year to moor their boat here, but personally they look a little claustrophobic for my liking.
Limehouse was about 35 minutes walk from Tower Bridge, so not so far out, but each day meant tackling some sort of public transport, and in London that is frighteningly expensive. Especially at the beginning before we discovered the Oyster Card. Our first trip which took us in the Zone 1, so not far, cost £9.8 for the two of us. Goodness, that is NZ$8 each, to go from Karori to the city, or Greerton to Otumoetai. The sea of people everywhere and the stand still traffic jam problems in this city are a real nightmare. We often love to try the double decker buses to get an overview of the city, but crawling along slower than a crab beat us by the time we got to Victoria St and we hopped off to make a new plan. Our lovely Barbara has a son working in London and he sent through some restaurant ideas, so we made our way to Shoreditch, using directions on the phone. Tube went successfully, but we hit a snag when we tried to board a bus, “no ticket” We finally hailed a taxi, and, my word, it was worth the effort, a Peruvian restaurant, it had wonderful staff, and tapas to behold. We took to the streets to work some of that off, and of course got a little bit lost, so we popped into a lovely English little bar, watched some tennis with a small glass, to collect our thoughts again you understand. Then who should we become involved in some sporting banter with, but a first cousin of, not just someone we vaguely know back home, but of the Kings who I grew up with and very close friends from childhood, in the horse world and school. His family came to live in London when he was quite young. Just what are the chances???
So on that we made our way safely back to our end of town. Next day we foolishly forgot about the traffic jams and gave the big bus another go. We only made it to the changing of the guards this time, it was a fortuitous move to alight the bus here, we were just in time for the actual Changing of the Guards. And then we enjoyed a beautiful stroll through St James Park. Whatever anyone says about Royalty and their place in the world, Buckingham Palace teams with people milling around getting such enjoyment from it all. It is all just such a beautiful area to amble along, and up the Mall into Trafalgar Square, an ideal spot to sit with a traditional English steak and stout pie and watch the world go by.
We encountered a last minute ticket office and got some tickets to Kinky Boots. A musical. Brilliant. That’s all I can say, just brilliant. It revolved around a shoe factory, with transvestites involved. Very funny, and a good story line
The last day we had been in touch with our good friends, Mel and Jill. Mel is playing a lot of cricket in Essex, so the plan was for us to meet half way down at Tumbridge Wells. Woman are meant to be able to do two things at once, but on this occasion this woman dropped the ball. Sitting on the train I was also organizing our Euro Star tickets as we approached a place called Tonbridge. We just sort of got off. It wasn’t glaringly obvious to me that it missed the Wells and was spelt with an O and not a U. I was still battling with travel agent duties as Joe hopped around wondering why they were late. I didn’t mind as I was at a crucial stage in my booking process and their arrival might have sent me back to the beginning. At conclusion and back to concentrating on one thing, I realized we had hopped off one stop too soon. What a mistaka to maka. Turned out it was a good mistake. Mel and Jill came up to us, and we set off around the tiny English countryside lanes. Nobody was completely sure where we were going, but it didn’t matter one bit, as it was quite away from madding crowds, and so green and beautiful. We found a gorgeous country pub, The Spotted Dog, after which exercise was required, so a little cricket ground to the side of a mansion plonked in a paddock, and Joe and Mel launched into a couple of overs of fairly rusty cricket. There were a couple of good moves there though. We then discovered the Tumbridge Wells station finally. It was an awesome afternoon and thanks to M and J for giving us such a good outing
At the end of a busy day our one last trip to a local was in order, it was to be the Grapes. Excellent. Then out of the blue a rather scruffy looking chap walked in, wispy hair floating about, looking somewhat familiar, and it was only the one and only Sir Ian McKellen, who, we were to discover, owned that little pub on the Thames.
We asked all English the people we came across what they thought of Brexit, and apart from Mel, we didn’t honestly find one who was for it. And of course replacing all the restaurant and bar staff would be huge. We didn’t encounter one English accent in the waiting staff attending to us. Russian, Polish of course, Lithuanian, the list is endless. So that was a very interesting thing.
Another thing that has struck us is how helpful the people are. It is still a fairly surly journey on the underground, with people looking suspiciously at each other. But the staff in the public transport are outstanding, they obligingly want to go the extra mile without exception. On our last trip on the DLR to join the Underground at Bank, the DLR was closed for maintenance. This through us into all sorts or turmoil, but we discovered a bus to replace it. When we finally made it to a tube station it was Tower Bridge, not my original plan, but a simple question to the very dark underground assistant and he came down the escalator to the platform to personally assist us onto the train, and his instructions were so involved I almost had to return to my own research to get it clear. There is an abundance of good help available.
Then on one of the trains we had a good laugh, when the announcer came out with the usual, “please take all your belongings, mind the gap,” but then in this case an extra sentence “and please don’t put your hands in anybody else’s pockets”
So it is good bye to England and hello to France, via the very fast (249km) Euro star, through the Chunnel at 75 meters below the surface on the sea bed. When we arrived we were inundated with touting taxi drivers, who clearly didn’t recognize a couple of street smart savvie slightly getting older kiwi globe trotters, and just for the heck of it I asked how much to St Germain. The reply was an astronomically daft 75 Euro. I mean, how naïve do we really look. Well, I have only recently ventured into the world of UBER. We used it for the first time in London with wonderful success. The question was how would we go with a foreign language. I just figured if I gave all the exact details, we could not go wrong. They are amazing, they give the number plate we are looking for and the type of car, and on the phone can even see it hovering around. I could not have imagined a better outcome, for 8.60 Euro, (remember the taxi tried to extricate 75 from us) we were entertained with wrap, or it might have been hip hop, music darting in and out of little alleys, with me keeping a sharp eye on my google maps as to our whereabouts, and VOILA neck minute, here we were.
So that will do for now, we have been in Paris for one night and one eventful day. The big football cup is here, (I am a bit green when it comes to Football, so I’m not sure exactly what it is, but it is causing much hysteria) final in Paris tonight, so it promises to be full of colour. But here we are for now, 2 weeks away feels like longer.
Keeps safe, warm and well all
Au revoir
