Two On Tour

It’s hot. But the Euros!

Thursday 4 July: Bergama

After photos on the patio overlooking Bodrum, Ashley drives us to the otogar and waves us off. We’re now heading north on what feels like the final leg of our travels in Turkey. Approaching Bergama, thunder clouds begin to form high overhead. We find ourselves at an almost deserted otogar on the far edge of town as lightning rips around us and the heavens open. We manage to call a taxi to take us into town, some distance away.

I find it tough to warm to Bergama on this first day. The rain doesn’t help, but neither does our room at the Taş Konak pansiyon, with its poor Wi-Fi and lack of a kettle in the room. The room and the pansiyon itself are rather charming: a wood-and-stone home in the old town with a spectacular view of Bergama from the breakfast terrace. Thankfully, the staff are happy to give us cafetières of hot water, so making our own tea and coffee in the room is still possible.

We take an evening stroll into town and find a rare licensed restaurant opposite the archeological museum. It’s pretty much an all-male hangout, but we feel comfortable. We’ll come back the next two nights for the Euro2024 quarterfinals.
It’s also election day in the UK…

Friday 5 July: Bergama

We wake up to the welcome news that the UK finally has a sensible government – and a PM who name-checks the Smiths, the Wedding Present, Orange Juice and Aztec Camera among his favourite artists. Dude!

I’m a bit concerned that four full days in Bergama will be a day too long, given that we no longer have a flat to ourselves. Still, Day 1 goes well enough: lunch in a lokanta, followed by a cable car ride up to the ruins of ancient Pergamon. If I’m honest, I’m developing a bit of mild ruin fatigue. But the views are fantastic and a stiff breeze makes it perfectly bearable up there. From the ruins, we follow a long and winding road leading back down to modern Bergama. We relax for a couple of hours before heading to the same restaurant as last night to watch the Euro2024 quarter final between Spain and Germany. After 90 minutes the score is 1-1. We’ve seen enough and decide not to hang around for the final outcome.

Saturday 6 July: Bergama

We spend the afternoon pottering around Bergama before watching the Euro2024 quarter-final between England and Switzerland. England win yet another penalty shoot out with five perfect penalties. An England-Turkey semi-final is briefly a possibility until the Netherlands beat Turkey 2-1 later in the evening.

Sunday 7 July: Bergama

Another afternoon of pottering around Bergama. I was initially concerned that five nights here might be one or two too many, but it’s just about working out alright. We’re taking it slowly, visiting just one or two sights each day. The Askepion today is rather underwhelming, but walking there and back through rustic old neighbourhoods make it worthwhile.

After eating at a plush outdoor restaurant further along our street, we get back to our pansiyon to find the outer door locked and no one on duty. Our key doesn’t work. Some helpful old teyzes help by making some calls, and within five minutes a neighbour arrives with a spare key to let us in. Crisis over, except that with no staff on duty, we now have no access to hot water for tea and coffee. €60 a night and yet no access to hot drinking water! We’ll survive, but this is not good enough.
With no useable internet and no footie, we watch 2007 film The Savages with Philip Seymour-Hoffman. I ripped it from an old VCD years ago, and it’s every bit as good as I recall.

Monday 8 July: Bergama

Our final day in Bergama is very quiet and very, very hot. Apart from a short stroll after lunch, we stay in our room for most of the day, only emerging again in the evening to eat. K takes photos of my hair for a transplant clinic in Istanbul, who will send me a quote shortly. Back at the Taş Konak, we spend the evening watching Absolute Beginners. It’s easy to understand why is was absolutely panned back in 1986!

Tuesday 9 July: Çanakkale

I’m beginning to get itchy feet in our small room in provincial Bergama. Eating out twice a day is also beginning to drill an ugly hole in our budget. I’m more than ready to move on.
Unfortunately, moving on isn’t as easy as planned. Our Kamil Koç service doesn’t show up, leaving us stuck in an all-but-abandoned, sweltering otogar with no access to drinking water other than what we have. With the help of the only two agents working at the otogar – two gruff but ultimately helpful gents in their 60s – we finally get out after three hours, heading in a dolmus to Ayvalık. From there, it’s a quick, smooth transfer to Çanakkale.

It’s great to see Graeme and Selin in Turkey for the first time in 28 years. Their annual vacation set up in Çanakkale is enormous: three 100m-square flats covering the whole fifth floor of a ten-year-old building, which since Selin’s mum died three years ago has belonged entirely to her aunt, who lives two floors below with Selin’s brother and cousin. The rest of the block is empty: apparently Selin’s aunt prefers it that way as the scope of tenants’ rights in Turkey (e.g. 10-year guaranteed tenancies, rent controls) make her reluctant to rent the remaining flats except for the ground floor business space, which is rented to the local government tax office. Cem and Alp are also here; so too is Alp’s girlfriend Izzy.

In the late evening, we all sit down to watch the first Euro2024 semi-final: Spain beat France 2-1. The night is hot: it’s our first night without air-con in Turkey – at least when we’ve needed it. (Our cave room in Cappadocia also had no air-con, but we really didn’t need it.) We won’t have the luxury of air-con again until we arrive in Plovdiv two weeks from now.

Wednesday 10 July/Thursday 11 July: Çanakkale

I spend most of Wednesday and Thursday working on the KTEO report, which is nearly finished. It’s hot in the flat, but we’re adapting. Relying on open windows instead of air con at least means that we’re in contact with the world outside instead of sitting in a hermetically sealed box.

On Wednesday night, we walk across Çanakkale to Graeme and Selin’s friends Enver and Cecilia, who lay on a superb spread before we watch England beat the Netherlands 2-1 to reach the final of Euro 2024. Ollie Watkins scores the winning goal at 89:59. A superb moment.

On Thursday night, we wander down to the beach in the evening to join Graeme, Selin, Cem, Alp and Izzy, and buy everyone dinner.
Graeme and Selin announce that they’re moving from Sawston back to Cambridge next month.

Friday 12 July: Çanakkale

K and I leave the Bridges to their own devices and take a day trip across the Dardenelles to the Gallipoli peninsula to visit the WW1 battlefields. As my only ‘memories’ of doing this in 1992 are from a couple of photos I have from that day, everything is effectively new to me. Inevitably, our group is mostly Aussies and New Zealanders, some of whom have come all the way from Istanbul that morning – a heck of a long day trip. After the initial ferry crossing to Eceabat, we stop for lunch, sharing a table with Vicky and Estelle, friends in their 70s who are on an extended tour of Europe. After lunch we squeeze into two minibuses and head to the battlefields. Our young tour guide Ibrahim is very knowledgeable, but perhaps at times lets his knowledge get in the way of a good narrative. It’s impossible to absorb any more than a fraction of what he tells us.
Inevitably, I spend much of the day humming And the Band Played Waltzing Matilda.

Saturday 13 July: Çanakkale

Another quiet day spent working. Mid-afternoon, everyone except K and I decamps to the beach. Meanwhile, we head out to buy groceries to cook for everyone this evening. Once everyone’s back, we cook enough food to feed the ten thousand. My Moroccan eggplant stew tastes slightly bland until I realise that I forgot to prepare sides of lemon and parsley. Doh. Later, we all head up to the roof terrace, where we play a great parlour game called ‘Bullshit’. Who, for example, can name the most ABBA songs in 30 seconds? Much fun is had under the stars.

Sunday 14 July: Çanakkale

I wake up to hear that Donald Trump has almost been assassinated at a campaign rally in Pennsylvania. As the old gag goes, I wouldn’t wish death on anyone, but there are a few obituaries that I would look forward to reading. Later in the morning, I finally submit the KTEO report bar last-minute revisions.

We all spend the afternoon at the local mall. It’s strangely soothing watching the locals going unremarkably about their business. After a spot of shopping, we all congregate for tea and coffee before the wrinklies among us head off to play pool. Graeme and Selin beat us by two games to one.
After finishing most of the surfeit of food that K and I cooked last night, it’s time for the Euro 2024 final. Spain deservedly win 2-1. Despite pandemonium breaking loose when we equalise, we’re clearly not in the same league as Spain, who score an 86th-minute winner. Ho hum. Given how poorly we played at times, we did extraordinarily well to reach the final. Spain, on the other hand, won all seven of their games inside 90 minutes. It would be churlish to object to them winning the tournament.

Monday 15 July: Çanakkale

A visit to Troy. To my untrained eye, there’s still not much to it, but undoubtedly more than there was back in 1993 when I last visited. The new museum nearby does, however, bring it to life: it’s full of exquisitely handcrafted ceramics and figurines, some over 4000 years old. We’re forced to dash around the museum to make sure we make the 5pm minibus back to Çanakkale, but we just about wring enough out of it. Back in Çanakkale, we grab some hamsi tava and midye dolma near the waterfront before heading back to the flat.

Tuesday 16 July: Çanakkale
Graeme digs out some old photos, none of which I’ve seen before. A few from that fateful day in the summer of 1993, when Graeme, Selin, Ceran and I went for a spin on her father’s cargo ship. Another couple featured Cengiz, although not from the same day. Selin’s Aunt Sema and cousin Türgüt drop in, and the nine of us spend a happy couple of hours leafing through family photo albums.
Later, we all stroll to downtown Çanakkale. After sipping a few cays, we head for kebap and pide before a golden-hour stroll along the esplanade.

Wednesday 17 July: Çanakkale

Our time in Çanakkale is nearing an end. I’m busy with work again, but mid-afternoon we join the Bridges on the local beach, where we mess about in the water with a ball for hours.
We’ll be arriving in Bulgaria a week from now, and if I’m honest I’m a little nervous. It will be our first land border, and – Hong Kong and China aside – the first land border I’ve crossed since I was in my 20s. It’s certainly going to take me out of my comfort zone.

Thursday 18 July: Istanbul

We say goodbye to Selin and Graeme and take a taxi to Çanakkale otogar. After all the social interaction in Bodrum, Selcuk and Çanakkale, it will be just the two of us from now until late September.
Istanbul is now so vast that there are office and residential towers as far out at Büyükçekmece. We try reaching Jon’s flat in Kurtuluş by public transport, but give up at Merter. It’s too complicated, especially with our suitcases in the July heat. Merter centre is unrecognisable: a rather handsome shopping precinct stands at the old transport interchange. We find a taxi and halfway through the journey I get into an argument abut his reckless driving. We pass Okmeydanı and somehow reach Kurtuluş in one piece.
Picking up the keys from Jon’s local shop is straightforward, but little else is. He’s given us the wrong building number and has overlooked that there are two flat 3s! Once finally inside, we find the flat squalid and neglected. Granted, Jon’s about to have it decorated. But the thick dust and grime is more like a student flat of my youth than that of a 55-year-old professional. A friend of Jon’s stayed here a couple of nights at some point after Jon left for Sheffield last month. He told Jon that he slept on the sofa. Perhaps he did, but the bedsheet and one of the pillowcases are covered in dry bloodstains. The bathroom bin is full of used toilet paper and there’s a full ashtray on a ledge outside one of the windows. It’s pretty grim, not to mention suffocatingly hot. Still, it’s generous of Jon to let us stay for free while he’s in Sheffield.
We head out to buy groceries and take a look at the old English Centre, 10 minutes up the road. Prestij Cafe is still there, so we pop in to eat for old times’ sake.

Friday 19 July: Istanbul

We visit Acıbadem private hospital in grim Dolapdere for Kathryn to get her final hepatitis and HPV vaccinations. They assign a charming Yemeni translator, who tells us he graduated from university in Kahramanmaraş shortly before last year’s catastrophic earthquake. Otherwise, we pass a quiet but sweltering day in Jon’s flat. I’m gradually wiping off the dust and stains with a bumper pack of wet wipes.

Saturday 20 July: Istanbul

After a quiet morning in the flat, we walk via Taksim and Cihangir down to the Bosphorus at Kabataş. Taksim will never be lovely, but it’s less unattractive than it once was. These days the square is fully pedestrianised, as are the surrounding streets immediately to the north. And while I have reservations about building a large ‘statement’ mosque on a square that traditionally represents Turkey’s secular present, it’s not as if there was anything of note there before. The only thing I can remember in that corner of Taksim Square was some public toilets. Vive la Republic!
As we walk down to Akyol Sokak, Cihangir Caddesi is now brimming with small cafes. Our old bakkal on the corner is now a cafe. A small Şok supermarket has opened just around the corner: if our old bakkal hadn’t already gone out of business, it probably did at that point.
After the obligatory photo stop outside the now rebuilt Ufuk Apt., we descend to Kabataş for an iced coffee, and from there back up to Taksim and Kurtuluş. I try asking for Bulgarian lev at a few döviz places without luck. We’ll probably just enter Bulgaria with some euros and take it from there.

Sunday 21 July: Istanbul

I take a quiet early morning walk to locate John Moorcroft’s old flat on 19 Mayıs Caddesi in nearby Şişli, where John generously put me up when I first separated from Ceran. I find it, although I’m not absolutely sure until John confirms later by text. Unfortunately, we won’t have an opportunity to meet up as he’s suffering from shingles (and what sounds like a cataract) at the moment. I hope to see him next year if I go ahead with the hair transplant that I’m considering.

After lunch we take a long walk from Kurtuluş down to Eminönü and back. I absolutely wouldn’t want to live in Istanbul again, but the rush of standing on the Galata Bridge again looking towards the Asian shore, Topkapı and Aya Sofya is intoxicating and poignant beyond all words. We walk across the bridge in the late afternoon sun as ferries, pleasure boats and smaller craft criss-cross each other in cheerful chaos. A huge cruise ship is leaving from Karaköy. Seagulls circle wildly. The minarets of Süleymaniye Camii, Yeni Camii and Aya Sofya puncture the skyline. It’s truly magical, and I can feel my younger self glued to the same spot years ago lost in wonder. How many more times will I stand here feeling such an intense connection with my younger self?

Monday 22 July: Istanbul

We visit Dr Go clinic in Dikilitas for an initial consultation for the hair transplant I’m planning. I end up paying a small deposit, and K and I discuss an adjustment to our 2025 plans that would bring us back to Istanbul in January for the procedure itself.
Otherwise, a quiet day spent working in Jon’s sweltering flat. I head out for an early evening stroll that takes me past John Moorcroft’s old flat for a second time.

Tuesday 23 July: Istanbul

And so to our last full day in Turkey. I spend much of Day 88 in Turkey working. But come evening, we wrap up in Turkey in modest style by walking to Balık Pasajı for mezes, fish and adult refreshments to celebrate a leg of the World Tour that’s now behind us.