So it’s adios Türkiye. A week of fun and games here and the search of the perfect Döner Kebab, some walking and a wind down from madness that Richard Branson served up. Self served stuff in Barcelona, a bath or two and a few walks with a lager or two in Istanbul. Sadly, we have to admit defeat in the kebab matter as excuses around inflation have now invaded the original late night snack. I have to confess to scoffing a fair number of these greasy, chilli sauce infested delicacies, often whilst waiting at the end of some underground station for a cab after falling asleep and being woken up by frustrated staff.
Imagine ordering your Döner in London or Sydney, (Or anywhere else for that matter), watching the delicious landslide of grease and other things that cascade with each expert knife swipe. Then watch as some clown weighs out a pathetic grammage and pops it into a pita with a bunch of French Fries! Are you fu(king kidding? There would be riots on the streets and protests! Never, ever have I ordered fries with a Döner, no way they will taste good with congealed kebab in the morning. Never, ever have I seen fries IN the kebab, except here in the home of kebabs in Turkey. A fu(king disgrace! Head away from the touristy areas and this evil behaviour is still pervasive. About AU$30 for a few scraps of dodgy offcuts mixed with fried potatoes.
Fortunately, we found a couple of decent eateries in Kadıköy offering dishes, sans fries embedded. Managed to smash an iron/protein dish without fries, liver, octopus, sardine and unidentified seafood mainly! Luxury Turkish bath one arvo for Mrs T and a couple of local beverages for the Bear. A stack of walks and ferry rides, too good.
16 Million humans in this City, probably 14 million or so involved in some sort of floor covering, weighed offal, fake jewellery or knock off replica goods enterprises. We have a habit of sniffing out misbehaviour, honesty, fun and have enjoyed every experience we’ve encountered to the max. Enjoyed this one, yes. Return, no. Sorry.
After the last taxi experience, we swore never again. Local hotel says cab is the easiest way to the airport and we must have had an unfortunate experience with Travis Bickle on the way in. OK then, let’s go. OMG, Travis mark II arrives in what looks like a Russian car out of an old Bond movie, here we go again! All good until he gets over about 100kph and the car starts to vibrate. Travis/Mehmet decides that his vehicle may be somewhat unroadworthy so stops to hop out for an inspection. He gives all four wheels a good kick or two, then a shake with his ape sized hands before hopping back in and barking some Turkish into a translation app. “Don’t worry, just a bent rim”, as he blasts back up to 130. If it’s going to end this way, so be it, I grab Jackie’s sweltering paw and hope for the best. If it’s going to be this way, a couple of thousand skydives together and a stack more misbehaviour then slide out on a dodgy wheel, so be it, we exit together.
The Imam’s are screeching in the background. We hold hands and look each other in the eye until somehow, the airport turnoff mercifully arrives and the rear wheel of our rented chariot starts smoking. We hand him a hefty tip and suggest he visits his local mechanic.
Gate 5 at the airport is for people who paid a few more pennies for airline transport, so in we go. Fast track through the general grubbiness and queues of check-in, security and passport control then off to the lounge. Still no kebab, so giving up on protein and focussing on more enjoyable stuff.
Still no bloody kebab in the lounge, and the bar is a little trolly of bottles, could be worse😃
On the flight now. Happily looking forwards to the long flight and our beautiful house xxx