Luckily we were put up in a really cool hostel to take my mind off things. It was just a street away from the Four Seasons and right next to the Blue Mosque. After setting down our rucksacks in our varied dorms (brunettes, blondes, couples and the infidels) we headed into the center for a quick orientation of Istanbul and change of money. After we went back to the hostel who put on dinner for us and a 'belly dancing' show. Phil the Bus God had warned us not to take this show as the official belly dancing stuff as it turned out that it was really just two Gogo dancers hoping for some tourist tips. A few of us shook our hips with them though before retreating to the roof for shesha overlooking the sea. It was a very enjoyable night.
The next day most of us were up bright and early for a pre-arranged guided walking tour of the city. We visited the Blue Mosque and the Palace. All very cultural but a tad expensive. Those of us looking forward to the cheapness of Asia were sorely disappointed as Istanbul charges European prices. That night another group dinner was organized across the street from the hostel in one of the many restaurants that lined it. A set menu of Turkish cuisine was laid out for us and I have to say that Turkey offered the best food yet. Their mains and sweets were absolutely delicious and I was hoping the rest of the countries' food was just as tasty.
On our last full day in Istanbul I took the opportunity to do some much needed laundry before visiting something I told myself I must do before I leave. I went to a proper Turkish Bath. One that had been recommended by the local owners of the hostel, not a tourist trap. It was great. If you're not a fan of the whole nakidity then there are places you go when you're just in bikini but I'm OK. So stripping in a cubicle with two other women, we wrapped the towels round us that were laid out ready and slipped on the over-sized sandals on the floor. We made our way into the women's section of the baths through a tiny door in the double height, doomed foyer. Suddenly a marble passage opened up before us as we went through what seemed like a labyrinth of doors to a hot and steamy chamber. There we were shown a space on a marble step next to a basin of hot flowing water. We sat on our Turkish towels whilst pouring the water over ourselves with mini plastic pans.
After a while of this, we were taken to another room for a full scrub down and sort of massage. Not with oils, just soap. To soap us up they dip a sheet in soapy water and sort of glide it over us in a fast sweeping motion until a thick lather has been produced. After that we were wrapped in a dry towel and told to go to the 'salon'. Stepping out of the door into the slightly cooler labyrinth – it took me a good five minutes to find the right door back to the 'salon'. There, we sat down in the refreshingly cool area, and were brought delicious Turkish apple tea. Just what I needed. Turkish baths are a fabulous experience and but not exactly a spa or anything.
Then it was off to Goreme. It was day 16, a Monday morning and I woke up at 6am in a cave to go Hot air Ballooning over Capadocia. Unfortunately, the weather wasn't looking too good so it was back to bed until 8am when Phil woke us up saying we were leaving in 15mins. Grabbing breakfast from the traditional common room, it was then into the van to be taken – somewhere. You learn to not question the bus – it's home now. After a short stop at somewhere where a proper typical Englishman, and I haven't heard that kind of Public school speak for a long time, told us we could get some Tea, and then not, then we were whisked away to the Ballooning sight.
We witnessed a one in, one out situation involving a Chinese party. And then a quick safety talk, before we were up, up and away. Having the Turkish middle plain below us while we gently floated higher and higher above was amazing. What a way to start the week. We stayed in Goreme a second night before heading to Erzancin. Nothing much happened here apart form going to a super fast kebab house who loved the fact that they suddenly had a restaurant full one evening. We spent one night there before heading off the next morning to the airport. An airport? Are you mad? This is Ozbus I'll have you know. Well the reason for this was as follows.
A few of the group members had a priority of sorting out Iran visas in Istanbul. So off to the embassy they trotted, bright and early on the first day. Unfortunately owing to some unfortunate cock-ups they all came away having to leave their passports in the embassy that wouldn't be given back until after we'd left Istanbul?! It was decided that one of our group, the one who was most affected by visa number mistakes, would stay behind to pick up visas (luck pending) and passports to then fly on to picked up by us on our way to the border. It was Aussie, carpenter, truck and bus driver, bad taste joker, Jimmy who had to stay behind and he was sorely missed on most of our Turkish leg. So it was with great anticipation and excitement that he was greeted with at arrivals. A posy of, mostly girls funnily enough, had made a sign for him and much to the locals' bemusement, had also come up with a great chant and way of saying his name in the style of “Timmy” from South Park. Lucky guy.
It was, in fact, the second time in Turkey the group had been threatened with a loss to numbers. On our first night there, Jo the writer for the Telegraph had had to be taken into hospital with terrible pain. Turned out she had Diverticulitis which she was allowed to continue the trip with but it was thought at first that it was Appendicitis which she would have had to return home with to recover. So back on the bus from the airport, all 26 passengers on board plus the Bus God Phil, we headed to the border town of Dogubayazit, pronounced 'Doggybiscuit'. Here we stayed one night in a hotel slap bang next to a Mosque (nice wake up call). I didn't find the calls too annoying, I thought they were quite tuneful, but they did wake you up at stupid O'clock.
At breakfast, the day of the Iran border crossing us girls were in our Iran gear of covered up-ness and practicing our head-scarf wearing techniques. As Lara, one of the Germans on board, gave us all a demonstration of how it's done. Very helpful. So now it was the real deal – the great unknown. We were about to be, as Billy Joel would put it in our official theme tune, 'strangers in a strange land.'
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