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Ankara - Istanbul
E.Route : Ankara - Istanbul : PTD 0707 : PTA 1623 : Dist 290 m.
A.Route : Ankarka- Istanbul : ATD 1720 : ATA 0050 : Dist 275 m.
- Depart Ankara 1720
- 1721 - 1730 Fuel stop
- 1825 - 1829 Police stop *
- Arrive Istanbul 0050
P.N.A.Spd. 36.3 mph : Gross A.Spd 36.66 mph : Net.A.Spd 37.67 mph.
Stop time 13 min : Speedo TD 15006 : Speedo TA 15281
Comment : (*) Complaint about the setting of our headlamps, settled with certain amount of gesticulation. Pleasant way of travelling over this stretch of road, with the number of mad busdrivers and other hostile traffic cut to a minimum .
Jim Lindsay's diary:
28 September
The obvious problem of being parked at a filling station on one of the country's
busiest roads was that the traffic noise was deafening from very early in the day,
so there was little incentive to lie in. We had a puncture that the filling station
could not handle so the contingent were taken into Ulu? for sightseeing, with a
meeting time arranged for the end of the afternoon. Those of us who stayed with the
coach had breakfast in a hotel in town and after things were fixed went to the
Ataturk Mausoleum.
The Mausoleum was a strange 1930s-modern complex (actually designed in 1940)
featuring halls displaying the trivia of his life, including a very fine Chicago
gangster style Cadillac, and some light artillery. We had heard stories of people
being penalised for symbolic offences, like the American serviceman in Trabzon who
put his foot on a banknote with Ataturk's image on it to stop it blowing away, and
was arrested for his disrespect. For this reason we did our best not to titter at
the goose-stepping soldiers of the guard at the Mausoleum. There was no guide to
etiquette at the site so we could only guess that it would be best to keep hands
out of pockets, hats off heads, and look solemn.
From my point of view the most interesting part of the city was the old town around
the citadel on the hill above the modern town. We reached it by climbing a great many
steps. It had city walls and narrow crowded lanes, women gossiping in doorways who
stopped until we had passed, and in one little sloping square a lot of little boys
fighting each other with wooden swords.
Everyone managed to assemble at the right place and time, and we set off. Traffic on
the main road to Istanbul was as manic as it had been on the outward journey. We
spent the night at the Institute of Education in Üsküdar again. We might actually
have set up the tent, contrary to what was said in a previous entry.
Farewell to Istanbul by Liz Y
"Life is beautiful if you are on the road to somewhere" *
It was evening when we left Ankara for Istanbul, nearly 300 miles away. Most of the journey was in darkness, with
just the lights of passing vehicles. A night drive usually had some advantages. There was less traffic and it was
cooler after sunset, although this was less relevant now at the end of September. But apart from the driving crew,
there wasn't a lot for the rest of us to do to pass the time, perhaps make plans for the following day and we
would have eaten something along the way.
We slept again on the college grounds in Üsküdar on the eastern side of the Bosphorus. We arrived in the small
hours and pitched the tent. There was none of the previous aggravation from intruders. We decided to spend one
day in Istanbul. Some would like to have stayed longer. If you still had a few Turkish lira, there was the lure
of the Grand Bazaar. Otherwise, maybe a stroll by the Bosphorus or a wander around the streets of the city.
We took the ferry in the morning to the old city. Since 1969, three suspension bridges and a tunnel have been built
across the Bosphorus. I suppose cities change all the time, new roads, buildings, bridges, but some sights in Istanbul
seemed timeless, Agia Sofia completed in 537 CE, the Blue Mosque in 1616 and Topkapi Palace around 1465. These would
outlive us.
There were also little scenes to be remembered in the mind's eye, moments in time and place that we might never find
again. A grubby backstreet with puddles under a narrow archway, Dickensian buildings with elegant windows that had
known better days, little shops spilling out on the street, a small cafe, with nice kebabs and a raised terrace with
high-backed wooden chairs on the corner of a cobbled street, the dark clothes people wore, street vendors, the smell
of charcoal near the ferry terminal, a wharf with little boats and fish, a water-seller, a line of dolmuş taxis, a
group of cab drivers touting for hire. Even the Grand Bazaar would change, updated to trends of later times. I try
to remember how things were, the labyrinth of lanes, lights, recessed booths, bales of cloth, leather, belts, bags,
sheepskin, trinkets, beads, colours.
Then there were things which we sensed but couldn't clearly see. The enigma of the secular and religious, city and
village, tradition and change, poverty and development, left and right, the social fabric of Istanbul. Istanbul is
now the biggest city in Europe. It has a population of over 15 million people, nearly six times the figure in 1969.
When we left Istanbul that night, Cuddles was crammed with memorabilia from the Bazaar and from all the amazing places
we had visited in the East. This time as we headed for the Greek border in the dark, there was no sign of the camel or
the donkey, which had welcomed us to the East.
* Turkish writer Orhan Pamuk in "The New Life" 1994
| Memorabilia Corner Worry beads (original cotton string replaced a few years ago) (Liz Yeats) |
