Today was my last day in Istanbul. A coworker of Andrea's recommended several things to do in Istanbul, one of which was to visit an area called Taksim and have some profiterol at the Ince bakery. So, I used Istanbul's train system for the first time this morning. There were not a lot of options. Basically, you just pay 1.30 lira for a token to get on a train or bus - no transfers, no weekly or monthly passes - I appreciated the simplicity of it.
I was on the train for a while. It stopped frequently and announced the station names. Then it stopped and there was a bunch of gibberish, which usually means that the train has reached it's last top. It's funny because all the locals get off the damn train and all the tourists just sit there and start to look worried. Some guys near me asked, "Taksim?", and I said, "I hope so, I don't know." Apparently it wasn't. We had to transfer to a different train. So, I was walking behind these guys and they were trying to go through the transfer without a token, I pointed and said "jeton" (the Turkish word for token) - the token office was just around the corner. We all went over there and I asked one of them where he was from. "Iraq!", he answered enthusiastically. Then he asked me where I was from... I told him that I was sorry to say that I was from America, and I looked down in shame and said I'm sorry several more times... His smile disappeared and he paused and then just patted me on the shoulder and said, "good day to you", and he and his posse walked off. I felt miserable and angry at my country... Even moreso because I just read that book about how America intentionally exploits other countries by offering to help them upgrade their infrastructure and loaning them tons of money that is used to pay American companies to do work in these foreign countries - basically, we loan them money to pay our companies and then they have to pay us back the money that they already paid our companies. Then the companies build WAY more than the countries need, and the country gets into debt so deep that it can't pay us back. And we use that to put them in a vulnerable position to make them do us favors when the time is right. Or something like that. The point being, my country is a dick.
So, I moped around Taksim and found the bakery. Profiterol is basically chocolate covered, creamy, something-or-other. It was good, but it didn't help my mood that much. I got out of Taksim and took a bus to Ortokoy. I was the only passenger on the bus at first, so the bus driver waved for me to sit up front and then said random stuff in Turkish about things we were passing. I understood not a word, but I saw the sights. Ortokoy, from my experience, was basically a small part of Istanbul on the Bosphorus straight. I took a scenic walk across a plaza by the ocean. It was filled with shops, restaurants, cafes, and it featured a mini-bazaar and a large mosque. I drank some iced tea and then got up and sat on a bench by the mosque while the call to prayer was going out - very peaceful.
After that I got back on the bus, missed my stop, rode it around for an hour, hoping it would come back to that stop, but instead I ended up at the bus depot. The driver didn't speak English, but I managed to communicate that I needed to get to Kabatash, and he indicated that I should join him and other bus drivers and have some tea. Ha! So, I hung out with a bunch of bus drivers and drank tea. Apparently one of them was interested in learning English, so we went over my Turkish phrasebook together and I ended up giving it to him.
I finally got back to my hostel and then took a train to the airport instead of waiting for my stupid "shuttle" that I didn't trust to arrive on time. I got to the airport several hours before my flight and I decided to grow a pair of balls and ask for some of my money back from the "shuttle" service that scammed me when I arrived. For a moment, the manager gave me some crap about how his driver was already in that part of town and I should have called to cancel, and no, he wasn't giving me any refund. So, I told him that his man had pulled me across the airport and told me that no train existed that could take me into town, which was a blatant lie, and that I didn't care where his damn driver was (I doubted he even had a driver on the way). Apparently that was sufficient conversation on the topic, so he gave me 20 euro back out of the original 45. I know most of you would have argued to get even more back, or probably wouldn't have gotten into this situation in the first place, but hopefully you can appreciate how I was actually able to demand my money back. That's a big deal for me. I am not a demanding person.
By the way, Istanbul rules - their airport has free wireless Internet. Fuck all the airports that charge for wireless access! Yay Istanbul!
So, I browsed the net for awhile, took my flight back to Athens, got a hotel room from the agency at the airport, and then missed the last train into town... There were only 4 people waiting around for the train (the rest must have been smart enough to figure out that no more trains were coming). Me, two possibly French people that wouldn't stop making out, and a German lady named Eva. After figuring out that a train wasn't coming and discovering that we were both going to within blocks of each other, we decided to travel together. We took the bus to Syndagma Square and then just walked the rest of the way. I offered to walk her to her hostel, because the area is kind of sketchy, even moreso at night. There are no women out, just a bunch of men, a bunch of skater punk kids, and a bunch of little booths that sell a wide variety of porn magazines and DVDs in addition to drinks and snacks. When we got to her hostel, all her friend were waiting on the steps and they all cheered. She is part of some troup of poi performers - they are in town for a juggling convention. Bizarre. I hung out with them for a little bit and then found my way to my hotel.
I attempted to call Andrea before bed, but had more problems. It's remarkable how important communication is and how we take it for granted. I accidentally threw away the calling card access number for Greece (it was written down on a piece of paper with a bunch of other crap). It wouldn't have worked anyway because the phone in the hotel room was pulse dial, not tone dial, and there didn't appear to be any switch to change it. I was once again without Internet or phone... very frustrating.
Doooood, I can see your balls from new york city.
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