Bursa, Turkey

Bursa, Turkey

Click here to see my web-album with pictures of Bursa. Here are some more.

The decision to go to Bursa was a good one. To get there from Istanbul, one needs to cross the Sea of Marmara. The bus depot for getting to Bursa is on the Asia side of Istanbul, and the instant I got off the ferry with my luggage I was spotted by a bus company operative, and hustled over to the coach office to purchase my ticket. It was about a 3 or 4 hour journey, including the ferrying across the sea. Catching the city bus at the Bursa bus depot felt a bit sketchy, because I really had no idea where I was supposed to get off, but with a bit of help from another passenger, whospoke no English but was happy to help, I exited the bus at the correct stop, and got my bearings.

The city of Bursa is small in comparison to Istanbul - only 2 million. It has a glorious and interesting past as well, and among other things, it was and still is the silk centre of excellence. Nearby the hotel where I stayed, is the market area, including the covered market, and the various “Hans”, where the different trades and marketers met, back in the day, to do business and strike deals. These Hans, or lodges, were dedicated to, for instance, silk traders and they make up part of the larger market in general, where you can purchase anything thing your heart desires. There are old photos in the Silk Han showing heaps and heaps of cocoons being sold to the silk producers, and it is still where the silk shops are mostly found, with a dazzling array of choices of scarves and garments. Here I was sorely tempted to step inside the shops to consider a purchase. Alas, I did not give in to temptation, and left Bursa empty handed. Bad decision!

There is a local high school principal who goes to the Gunes Hotel, where I stayed, every evening after work. There Ahmet greets all the new guests and basically takes them under his wing to share his passion for his home city. The first order of business is to accompany him to a tea house just around the corner, where locals gather every evening to play and sing traditional music, and of course drink tea. Once ushered into the back room where this daily event takes place, everyone is welcome and welcoming. The musicians are of a few generations, and they all seem to know all the tunes, sharing the lead vocals and lead on the long necked lute-like instrument. There is always a hand drummer and sometimes another will play a large boran-like drum (like a large tambourine withot the jingley-jangley bits). They also have a version of “spoons“, made of wood with a small striker that make a fabulously fun percussive addition to the mix. These spoons will be passed around the group, and you can expect to be invited to join in the ensemble. Once you figure out how to hold them, it is remarkably easy to come off sounding like you actually know what you are doing! It was with great pleasure that I attended three of these jam sessions, each evening hearing different singers and players, thus being introduced to various styles in the local genre. Each evening in the midst of a tune in full flight, the music would suddenly stop, in unison, at which point the instruments were replaced and the gentlemen left for prayers. And that was that, until tomorrow! Quite amazing!

My first evening in Bursa, after meeting Ahmet, I teamed up with a few other guests, one of whom was a “veteran” and already know the ropes. Together, under instructions from Ahmet, we went to see the Whirling Dervishes at their school. It was truly an incredible experience, where any and all are welcome to witness this ritual, at no cost. There were mostly Turkish people watching on, but foreign tourists as well. As is typical in Islamic temples, men are downstairs and women and children upstairs in the balconies. There ritual includes a group of musicians and singers, and a master Sufi who oversees the event. In turn, each of the dancers greet the master and each other twice, and when the music begins, each in turn, begins to whirl. There is a set pattern to their movements across the floor, with one man is stationed in the centre. There pattern represents the universe and the position of their arms represents receiving and giving of light. Some men had one arm extended up (receiving) and the other down(giving), while others had both arms in the receiving position, and with various gradations between, depending on their seniority. The head is tilted to one side for the entire dance, which last about one hour. Sufism is the mystical branch of Islam and Bursa is one of the main centres of the sect. One can see Sufi dancing in Istanbul, where it is a tourist spectacle for which one pays dearly. In Bursa, this was truly a mystical experience, and one of absolute inclusion. After the dance was complete, tea was offered to anyone who wished it in the adjoining garden, where members of the congregation provided information pamphlets on the restoration of the temple and dvd’s of the dance.

Apart from the main attractions within the city of Bursa itself (various mosques and neighbourhoods of particular interest and the market - oh the beautiful produce!) that Ahmet insisted we all take the opportunity to visit, there was another big attraction that he recommended. It was a visit to a nearby Ottoman village, where every weekend the entire town becomes a market place. Fortunately for me and 3 others at the hotel, we were able to join Ahmet for this excursion. We took the local bus, and within about an hour, we were sitting at a table in the garden of one of the local families, indulging in a fabulous spread of local specialities laid out before us. The cherry trees were in bloom and it was a perfect warm spring day. When we had sufficiently stuffed ourselves, we made our way up through the town, being greeted by the friendly locals as we wandered. There was an air of genuine joy and happiness that pervaded the scene, with visitors and vendors all relishing the fine weather and the bounty of the earth such as homemade breads, preserves, honey and propolis, figs, olives, cheese, vegetables and freshly prepared crepes with spinach and cheese. It was a beautiful and memorable outing for us all and we were very grateful to Ahmet for being so caring and taking the time to share the best of Bursa with us.

After five days in Bursa I made my way back across the sea of Marmara to Istanbul to catch my flight, same day, to Amman Jordan.

Click here to see my web-album with pictures of Bursa.

Egypt Bazaar, aka Spice Bazaar, (aka Heaven!)

Buddies

Turkish tea glasses, trays and pots

Modern day mosaic. Istanbulis have a good sense of humour!

Byzantine Mosaic. OLD!

Aya Sophia is HUGE!

Sundy shoppers in Taksim ditrict

It's a really big city!

Bad photo of reallt good food

Blue Mosque calligraphy

Aya Sophia

Pomegranites for juicing

Galata Bridge fishers and Suliemani Mosque

Istanbul

It was with great anticipation that I boarded the plane for Istanbul in Casablanca. Anticipation and trepidation, I should say. When I was going through security in Casablanca airport, I happened to notice the man in front of me, travelling with his wife and toddler, actually slip the security screener some cash! I thought “no, that can’t be!”. But YES, I saw the guy actually sneaking a peak to see how much money it was! Good God! What would you do, if you were boarding a plane in Morocco? I held my tongue, and am happy to report that I arrived safe and sound in Cairo where I transited to Istanbul.

Flying over Libya and Egypt was pretty amazing, of what I could see. The flight was at night and so only the last couple of hours were light enough to see that the landscape 30,000 ft below was nothing but wind affected sand, as far as the eye could see. Completely non-arable, there were absolutely dead straight roads that stretched for hundreds of kilometres across the wasteland to who-knows-where. You could see where the sand was blown across the roads, obscuring them for long sections. Like the surface or the moon, it makes the artic look like the Garden of Eden, what with climate change and all!

After a couple of hours in Cairo airport I boarded for the short flight to Istanbul, and arrived Ataturk airport before noon. I was a little surprised to have to pay US$60 for a ninety day, multiple entry visa. Canadians have to pay more than any other visitors for a visa (Americans pay US$20), such is the wrath of the Turkish Government over Canada’s recognition of the Armenian genocide. First visa I have had to pay for, so I guess I shouldn’t complain, but I still do! There’s more to come on visas….

I went to an ATM to withdraw Turkish Lira, and was more than a little concerned when both my TD bank card and my TD Visa were rejected! There happened to be another Canadian who was also using the same Visa card and his was rejected as well. It took us a little while until we found an ATM that accepted our cards, but I can tell you I felt a bit tense about it, since having issues with one bank in Morocco that not only rejected my card, but also retained it! Well, lets hope that there will be no repeat performance of that scenario.

Anyway, the Canadian man and his wife and I shared a taxi into the city which is quite a long trip. I was prepared to take the metro, but since I was pretty knackered from the long day behind me, I decided to spring for the extra cash, especially as it would take me directly to the door of the hostel that I had booked.

Istanbul has a population of over 17 million people. That’s about half the population of Canada! It’s ’way bigger than New York City. I was in Istanbul in 1974, and I can tell you that it was a LOT different then! It was more like what Morocco is now - broken. The city was a mess. Buildings were crumbling, water and electricity were unreliable, pavement was busted, and jobs were scarce. The cay (tea) shops were filled with idle men, the streets were a jumble of clapped out vehicles (all honking, all the time), and carts pulled by boys and men hauling supplies. There were touts and hawkers and gypsies, and it all felt somewhat sketchy and unsafe, and definitely without much hope.

That was then. Now, Istanbul is full of energy. Many, many of the old buildings have been restored and historic sites are also restored and open for visitors, of which there are millions every year. But even the daily thousands of tourists don’t come close to out-numbering the locals, so it is relatively easy to steer away from the carpet salesmen in Sultan Ahmet (tourist central, where you will find the Blue Mosque, Aya Sophia, the Grand Bazaar and many other important attractions) and wander into a charming neighbourhood bustling with local commerce serving busy local citizens.

There are many wonderful things to see and ways to while away the days in Istanbul. The city has a great tempo, busy but not stressful, and local people are friendly and helpful. There is an abundance of museums and historic sites and monuments to visit, as well as hidden treasures to search for off the beaten track. It is really amazing how many beautiful, ancient Ottoman buildings there are that seem to be in relatively good shape. Some are unoccupied, but still appear to have structural integrity, and so I assume that they are a restoration project in-waiting. I found myself walking into numerous “villages” within the greater city, and being delighted by the bazaars and markets (the produce is really about as good as it gets, anywhere - oh, how I wish I had a kitchen to cook in!). One day rolled into the next, with no shortage of interesting places to visit, and GREAT food to eat, and so I ended up spending 11 days there, before I pried myself away.

Over that time I stayed in 3 different hostels. The first one, I had booked on-line, and they were able to provide me with 3 nights, and then they sent me to their “sister” hostel, which wasn’t full. Neither of them was a bad place, but could have been cleaner, and fixed up somewhat. They were also both in Sultan Ahmet, which is very handy for a LOT of sites on the tourist tick list, but it gets a bit much after a few days, and so I started looking for something a little bit away from that area and I found a much better hostel, which was super clean and had super friendly, helpful staff, AND was a bit cheaper. Maybe it was a bit too comfortable, because it was really easy for me to stay just one more day, and another and another.

It was also better for meeting other travellers. One of my room mates was a young woman from Kyrgyzstan. First Kyrgyzi I have ever met! She was really interesting and we toured around together for a couple of days. She had just arrived, and I knew a few of the ropes already, so she was thankful to have me as a bit of a guide to the neighbourhood. She was delighted to find that Turkish and Kyrghiz languages have many words in common.

Another woman I met there, Daniela, is an Italian pianist, who lives in Barcelona. We had a great day together, that started in the morning and ended after mid-night, having finished it off by going to the opera! It was a pretty adventurous day actually. Daniela had decided to take the Bosporus “cruise”, which I had already taken. It is a beautiful way to see Istanbul, from the water, but all in all it takes 6 hours to complete the trip, including a 3 hour wait at the turn around point. There are options to get off at a few points on the way up, and to possibly get back on the return trip, or take the bus back from there. Daniela had thought that 6 hours was too long a time to commit to, so together we decided to get the one way ticket, and get off before the turn around point.

On board, I happen to see Brian, whom I had met a few days earlier. He and his wife, Sheila are neighbours of my sister in Calgary. My sister advised me by email that they would be in Istanbul at the same time as I, and so we communicated by email and set a rendezvous. Sheila preceded her husband by two or three days, and she and I had a couple of fine days exploring together. A couple of days after Brian arrived, they left for a side trip to Cappadocia. I knew that they were coming back to Istanbul, but only for a day or so, before there onward flight to Jordan, but of all the millions of people in Istanbul, I still thought it was pretty amazing to catch sight of someone I knew!

The four of us ended up getting off the ferry boat at the same stop, so we teamed up to look around. We all wanted to check out a few things on the European side of Istanbul and then hop another ferry to the Asia side where it would be possible to re-board the “cruise” ferry. That was all fine, until I realized that I had left my guide book for Turkey at the ferry iskelesi on the European side. Uh oh - big problem, because I really, really need the book for the rest of my trip, and it is hugely expensive to buy in Istanbul - double what it costs in Canada, and it is impossible to find used copies. After some sign language and a patient explanations to the iskelesi attendant, he was able to phone across to the other side and advise the attendant there about the book, and tell her that I would be back to retrieve it, later.

After straightening that out, and finally shaking a couple of shoe shine boys who were determined to polish our running shoes, we started up the hill to find the gardens and palace described in the guide book. We were highly impressed by the display of colourful primroses and tulips. Tulips are originally from Turkey (Istanbul celebrates spring with a Tulip Festival) and primroses grow wild in the meadows in the countryside. The gardens were surrounding a fabulously beautiful Ottoman palace which now serves as a very post restaurant. Noting the crystal wine glasses and crisp white linen on the tables we opted to hike back to town for lunch. Fish is a good choice in Istanbul, despite the fact that the Bosporus is an international shipping lane, and we enjoyed some fresh catch before getting on another ferry to return to the European side, which is where we said our good-byes to Sheila and Brian.

Retrieving my book was quite an epic event. The ferry did not return to the same station, but ’way ’way down from it, requiring a long bus trip in heavy traffic to get back to the quay where my precious book was waiting. There was a huge police presence due to some sort of a meeting of international leaders, I presumed, since I did happened to see the German Chancellor in one of the limos. After the long, but interesting bus trip back, Daniela and I realized that there wasn’t enough time to return to our hostel before going to the opera. We had only a couple of hours before show time, and a long way to go to get there. We found out though that we could take a different ferry to the appropriate iskelesi back on the Asia side. It left us just barely enough time to grab a quick bite, which we did - a fantastic small spread of meze (kind of like tapas) of dolma, kofte, and yogurt. Unfortunately we had to wolf them down and dash to the ferry, not forgetting to retrieve my guidebook as we boarded.

There is a slightly different flavour to the Asia side of Istanbul - maybe a little bit more laid back, but not enough to make it feel sleepy by any means. The streets were teeming with shoppers and the restaurants were full, just like the European side, but there is definitely less English spoken. We did manage to find our way to the theatre with time to spare. We used that time to try to find out how we would get back to the European side after the opera. Having already checked the ferry schedules at the quay, we were left scratching our heads about the fact that they stop running well before the opera would finish. The general response was “you don’t”! Finally, together with a couple from Barcelona, we were able to work out the details of how to get back, by way to the mighty Bosporus Bridge - a LONG way around, by shared dolmus, (shared taxi), which travel specific routes and have specific stops, just like a bus.

I know you are just dying to know about the opera. It was The Tales of Hoffman by Jacque Offenbach, and it was pretty awful. The soloists were quite fine actually, and the chorus was decent, but the orchestra was dreadful. Daniele was practically apoplectic! With her Italian accent she cried “the violence, the violence!” which struck me a bit harsh, but then I realized she was talking about the violin section. “Ten years” she declared. They need ten years of work to become an orchestra. I won’t bore you with further details, but to say that the second act was an enormous improvement over the first, but the third dragged on.

My daughter, Caitlin, and I had been making plans to meet in Istanbul in early May after she finished up her final year at UBC. Early May was still a good six weeks away, so rather than see most of Turkey before her arrival, I decided to check out Syria and Jordan for three or four weeks. In anticipation of that, I knew would need to apply for a Syrian visa, but it was hard to find out exactly what the requirements are. I took a half a day to walk to the consulate and back, through a part of Istanbul that I would otherwise never have seen - beautiful business area, more fabulous buildings - in order to get the correct information. It was required that I obtain a letter from the Canadian consulate supporting my application for a visa, and return with it to the Syrian consulate. The visa would be processed the same day. Good! I knew that the Syrian visa cost 45 euros (same as Turkey for Canadians), but what I wasn’t anticipating was the 35 euro fee that the Canadian Consulate charges for a one-liner on official letterhead with an official seal! Thank goodness the Canadian dollar is strong right now, and the exchange rate is quite favourable! The Canadian Consulate is an “Honorary” one, and situated in a dumpy apartment of a rather tired building in Taksim, where most consulates and embassies are located. I was told that soon a full consulate will be opening there, and in a new location. Let’s hope so, because the present facility does little to create a favourable impression. Maybe better relations with the Turkish government will lower the visa cost to Canadians!

Once I had my visa for Syria I booked a one way flight to Amman, Jordan on-line, and found a guide book for the Middle East. I had a week of time left in Turkey before my flight, so going far from Istanbul didn’t seem like a good idea. I headed for the city of Bursa, with ideas about side trips from there, to fill the week.