Having been grounded for way too long with my delayed toe-healing, ongoing family stuff and my own ill health, a gap in booked facilitation work and medical appointments provided the opportunity for me to spread my wings.
And it’s no secret that I’m drawn to East Africa – but more on my final destination later.
When researching the cheapest flights, I discovered Turkish Airlines provide a free night in an Istanbul hotel if you book a long layover, so that seemed like a no-brainer! I’ve transited through the airport before but never actually been to Istanbul.
I therefore took advantage of their free stopover programme to spend 24 hours in Istanbul.
As I’ve been working at Heathrow so much, I also took advantage of my free night in the Hyatt Plaza Heathrow the night before my flight, so that I didn’t have to tackle Central Line at rush hour with luggage. It was weird leaving there to actually travel, as opposed to working!
Even though Heathrow’s Terminal 2 was just a short bus ride away, the journey was fairly miserable: it was cold and raining torrentially. My layers and waterproof were insufficient to protect me from the chill infusing my bones. The bus was also nearly 20 minutes late, leaving me exposed to the elements for far too long.
Upon arrival, I immediately felt a wave of nostalgia, as I’d facilitated a project IN Terminal 2 over several weeks last summer. It was weird knowing the unseen maze of corridors right behind the walls that passengers pass, and no longer being able to use them.
After being part of a new trial at security, where you don’t take anything out of your bag (tell me why if yours gets pulled you feel stressed/ guilty even though you’ve done nothing wrong…or is that just me?!), I secured myself a Pret iced latte, which had been my drink of choice every workshop, and then had a very nice, but ridiculously expensive, breakfast in ‘The Perfectionist’s Cafe’, which I felt was an apt choice of venue given my own perfectionism. Let’s not talk prices, though! Ouch.
Time passed quickly and I was soon aboard my plane, crammed like sardines with the other passengers in the back section. I haven’t been on a Turkish Airlines flight in over a decade, but am pretty sure the seat pitches weren’t so small back then.
Thirty minutes into my flight the guy in front reclined and his seat was so close to my face it was hard to even focus on the seat-back TV screen. I never recline on flights if anyone is sitting behind me, as I personally wouldn’t want to do that to someone, so I found myself in this very oppressive space – I’d paid for a window seat and so was surrounded on all sides. My mental health has been trash for some time, so I don’t think that helped, but I very quickly felt like I couldn’t breathe and the early signs of a panic attack.
I therefore got up and made my way to the back of the plane, to try and get some air and regulate my nervous system. An air hostess asked what was wrong and I explained I was feeling a little claustrophobic. She gave me some water and her colleague asked if I’d like to move seat. I said if that was possible then yes, and she led me to the middle section of the plane…which was virtually empty. There, I had not only a full row to myself but also the rows in front, and to the side of me, were empty.
No idea why on earth Turkish Airlines decided to jam half the passengers in one section of the plane, but the rest of the journey was bliss! The food was pretty decent for economy, too.
We’d taken off in driving rain…and we landed in driving rain. I hadn’t expected Istanbul to be wet and cold!
The plane took around 25 minutes to come to a full stop and we had to depart, and board buses, fully exposed to the elements.
Istanbul Airport is immense. I think it took at least a further hour just to get out of it, but it had some cool features – like hot and cold water dispensers. Realising my data roaming plan didn’t include Turkey (‘cos of course it didn’t!), I downloaded a $4 Airalo eSIM in the passport control queue and by the time I reached the baggage area my case was off the belt waiting for me. From there I navigated my way to the metro (clearly signposted but quite the walk) and secured myself an Istanbul version of an Oyster card.
I rode the airport metro line (M11) all the way to the end and then decided to get an Uber rather than faff about changing stations, lines, and modes of transport (the airport was a loooooong way from where I was staying; I hadn’t previously realised just how vast the city is).
My driver, Veysel, pulled up in a yellow taxi and immediately took on the role of tour guide, pointing out sights and rolling the windows up/ down so I could see better through the driving rain. He did also keep glancing back at me, and then staring, which was weird, but when he suggested if I wanted a taxi for the return journey I could message him direct, I did take his details.
We eventually arrived at the hotel designated by Turkish Airlines at around 9pm. It was centrally-located, in Sultanahmet, but looked like it belonged The Shining. Dated was an understatement, and I’m not sure how exactly it qualified for the promised four stars.
My room was basic and smelled faintly of cigarette smoke. The view from the window was a close-up and personal with some apartment windows, complete with washing hanging outside, and the bathroom had the interesting feature of an actual telephone next to the toilet. It also had two lil’ bottles of shampoo… and no shower gel.
On my way out to explore, I asked the man at reception if two shampoos had been a mistake. He told me no, and said I could use one as shower gel. Well, okay then.
The first thing that struck me about Istanbul was that cats are EVERYWHERE! They appear to be cared-for-street-cats, as locals leave little piles of food out for them.
Even though it was night time I felt safe enough to just do my thing of wandering and seeing what I discover. However, after a little while a yellow taxi pulled up along side to me and the driver kept insisting I get in. To my shame, I couldn’t actually tell if this was Veysel, but the driver was saying he’d take me somewhere for dinner and I firmly kept telling him no, walking away from him. But he kept looping the block, and emerging from whatever street I chose next, and trying again – to the point I felt a twinge of panic. Eventually he started adding it would be free, just get in and I told him again to leave me alone. Veysel or not, I wasn’t getting in a car with a stranger; I still remember what Charley said as a child.
I headed for the more touristy areas, which would be busier, acquiring a plethora of cats along the way – I’d say hello to one and six more would emerge!
One of particular note was a black and white tom cat standing outside the main door of a hotel, doing his best doorman impression. He trotted down the steps to greet me and give me head butts. Soon we were joined by three other cats, and he – quite literally – fought them all off before returning to his stationed post.
Bidding him goodbye (don’t judge me!), I resumed seeing where the streets would take me. They were relatively empty but pretty much every restaurant and corner shop was open; the former were filled with people.
Spotting an interesting-looking old tunnel (the kind a road runs through), I ventured through it and was greeted by a chirrupy white cat that appeared to be pregnant. She positively demanded strokes and scratches, following me when I tried to leave. It was only when I looked up from her that I realised we were standing at the rear of the somewhat iconic Blue Mosque, dramatically lit up against the night sky.
My feline accomplice got spooked by a man, and so we parted ways and I gave myself a mini night-time tour of the tourist hotspots of Istanbul, as well as pretty walkways hung with coloured lanterns.
In addition to the cats, there are also many stray dogs roaming the city but, as I’m scared of dogs, there were a few tense moments; I think I was more scared of them than any human!
I’d been scoping out places to eat as I walked, and returned to a spot close to my hotel that hadn’t had a hawker outside, so looked promising. Even though it was almost 11pm on a Tuesday, all the local restaurants were still open and serving but the last of this establishments’ customers were leaving just as I arrived (earlier it’d been packed). I therefore had stellar service from a father and daughter hosting team, with the former falling over himself to ensure I was happy. I got told I could add any combination of sides to my main for free, and as soon as I’d finished eating a plate of a flaky, milky, looking dessert – that I didn’t order – was placed in front of me. Apparently, this was Güllaç, which dates back to the 14th-century and is considered the precursor to baklava. It’s got thin layers of corn-starch ‘pastry’, immersed in warm milk with rose water. It reminded me a little of rice pudding.
As soon as I cleared my plate, the manager refilled it; he said he’d initially only given me a little (it was actually a super generous portion) in case I didn’t like it. This man would have gotten along well with my nan as he would NOT take no for an answer. I therefore also had a second apple tea to wash it down. The restaurant itself was dated in decor. Along one wall was a huge TV playing Turkish songs, accompanied by lots of bellydancing videos…more nostalgia triggered there!
Full to bursting, I bid my goodbyes to the family and made my way back to the hotel: my aim was to make the most of my day there with an early start.
At least the rain had stopped.
I was jolted awake at 4.30am by the somewhat jarring sound of the room telephone: when I answered, there was no one there. So I can only assume it was the wake up call function…except I hadn’t set up a wake up call.
Given my nervous system was already on high alert, it took me a while to make myself feel safe and calm myself. By which point someone, somewhere, was talking loudly and watching a TV that I could hear clearly…at 5am.
It took me a long time to be able to fall back asleep – I had to employ the help of ocean sounds on YouTube to block out all the banging and talking – and, as I’d only had around two hours’ sleep, and it was also raining torrentially again, I abandoned my plan to get up and out early.
I don’t sleep on planes, so sleep was more important.
At around 9am it was still raining, but breakfast ended at 10am so I dragged myself out of bed and started getting ready for the day. I was ridiculously tired, as even prior to the random telephone call a pulsating bright light attached to the ceiling had been disrupting my sleep.
The smell of cigarette smoke was even stronger in the bathroom; I was thankful that (i) I didn’t pay for this hotel and (ii) I was only staying one night!
Breakfast was in the basement.
Several staff members were grouped by the entrance as I approached but they all ignored me until I asked if I could go in. Whilst the breakfast buffet was extensive, almost none of it was anything I wanted to eat (such as olives in garlic).
I tried adding what seemed to be granola to Greek yogurt but the yogurt was a VERY weird consistency and the granola ‘raisins’ actually appeared to be stale chocolate. It made me gag, so I barely consumed a spoonful.
I wasn’t provided with any cutlery until I sat down, and the whole time I was eating, a waitress leaned against a pillar directly behind me; it was supremely uncomfortable. I settled for wolfing down some slices of orange, and a bread roll with butter and honey (the honey was actually pretty cool, as it was drizzling down from a suspended piece of fresh honeycomb).
There wasn’t even any coffee left, so I decided to head out in search of caffeine.
Thankfully, the torrential rain had given way to occasional showers. It was still chilly, though.
With trusty Google as my guide, I navigated my way to a decent iced latte, picking up a street Simit (the sesame-coated bagel-like treat) on the way. This gave me enough fuel to check out the Grand Bazaar, which I felt was utterly over-hyped (the real action, and life, are on the similar shops and stalls outside of the Bazaar).
I don’t tend to have a fixed plan when I travel, but I had researched how to maximise my time in Istanbul and knew the general areas I wanted to check out. I’d initially planned to get the bus to Balat, but a motorcyclist coming off his bike and blocking the highway (pretty sure you’re not meant to move someone who’s come off a moving vehicle but a group of men did just that, to free up a lane of the highway whilst we were waiting for the ambulance) meant that, by the time the bus came, I had to make a call between Balat and the Galata Tower area – I chose the latter.
Given I’d read Galata is a good area to catch sunset, I boarded the ferry to Kadıkoy, on the Asian side. The ferry ride is around a 30 minute journey but it was almost empty and so I got great views – I did choose to sit outside so was freezing, though, despite my merino travelling layers.
Once back on land, I resumed my strategy of getting intentionally lost down side streets and just absorbing the vibe. I was, however, chilled to the core, so I dipped into a cafe for some hot tea (I’ve realised I don’t like any Turkish tea aside from the apple one) and a slice of the San Sebastián cheesecake (you’ve probably seen it on TikTok). I have to admit, I’m not a cheesecake kind of a girl, but this was really, really good!
After passing the bull statue everyone associates with Kadıkoy, and circling back round to the harbour, the sun was hanging low in the sky, so I decided to make my way back to the ferry port.
Fortunately, I didn’t have to wait long and it was another relatively empty ferry.
The sun began to set as we travelled, but, as ever, you can never quite capture the true essence of what you’re seeing on camera.
This time I got off on the Galata side, and immediately joined a queue for street food (queues of locals are usually a good sign), as I needed to warm up again. Two men, wearing woolly beanie hats, were preparing Balık Ekmek on an open grill. This is a common street snack: mackerel is grilled and wrapped in a kind of pitta bread along with different salad ingredients and sauces. They then grill the wrap and baste with more sauce before wrapping it in paper. The man on the grill was deftly de-boning the mackerel fillets as the other took the orders and prepared the salad.
I think it was the tastiest thing I ate whilst in Turkey.
The streets of Galata are surprisingly steep; eating as I walked, I raced sunset to try and get an elevated view before dusk but it was hard work and I reached the Galata Tower just as darkness fell.
The tower itself was closed for renovation, and shrouded in green tarpaulin, but the surrounding streets were hung with what looked like Christmas decorations – I assume for Ramadan.
As I couldn’t see much from street level, I headed for the rooftop of a nearby cafe, Galata Konak. This was a quirky old building, with a rickety lift up to the terrace and a maze of rooms filled with antique furniture. I ordered a tea I didn’t want to drink, so that I could buy some time to absorb the panoramic view of the illuminated Istanbul skyline; it was almost full darkness but there was still a red tinge to the horizon in the West.
Making my way back down the steep, cobbled, streets was tricky (especially with dodgy knees and after rain), and I had to go super slow down one particular part, holding onto some scaffolding for balance.
A man came up behind me and I slowed to let him pass…but he didn’t.
He held out his arm to me.
I said no thank you but he gestured again and this time I took it; I could sense he wasn’t going to take no for an answer.
This stranger helped me to the bottom of the slope and without agenda, as he simply nodded acknowledgement of me thanking him upon reaching the bottom and headed straight back up the hill.
Making my way to the tram stop near the bridge, I realised I had just enough time left to eat before I needed to leave for the airport, so I took the tram back to Sultanahmet: I wouldn’t usually eat at the same place twice but the restaurant I’d eaten at the previous evening had been such good value, and was so convenient, I’d decided to return.
I was greeted like I was royalty, ushered into a window seat and again given free freshly-made bread, free dessert (this time baklava) – and also free tea (shame I don’t actually like the tea!). The owner repeatedly told me, “Turkey will miss you.” I think I’d have still been there now if I hadn’t extracted myself from his enthusiastic offerings of more tea.
My 24 hours in Istanbul were almost at an end.
Picking up my case from the hotel, I called another Uber (just in case Veysel had been the driver following me the previous evening). Given I am trying to travel on a budget, I’d asked him to drop me at the metro station for the airport line; not the one I’d arrived at, as that station closed earlier in the evening for no discernible reason.
He pulled over at the roadside roughly in the area of the station and gestured across the road, saying the metro station entrance was over there. He then tried to sell driving me the whole way at a massively inflated price and, when I declined, he was not happy at ALL.
I struggled across the busy road with my luggage, only to find he’d directed me to the wrong metro entrance and I had to cross BACK over the road to the correct one. As in, the one I’d been close to originally.
By the time I’d reached the platform, I was borderline late and given how long it’d taken to get out of the airport I’d begun to stress.
Fortunately, the metro took less time than Google predicted and I arrived at bag drop off exactly three hours before my scheduled departure. I definitely needed all three of those hours, though, as it felt like a million miles to my departure gate (okay, slight exaggeration, but it *was* at least a 35 min walk), and to top up my water bottle was another long detour, as apparently the only water dispenser was by a completely different gate.
Given the number of people, the flight looked to be set to be a busy one. It was a 2am departure and so I really wasn’t in the mood for a semi-feral child to constantly be running around the seats, coming right up to each of us and staring us down whilst making random shrieking noises. The parents just let her.
Typically, she was only a row in front (albeit not directly) of me on the flight and spent most of it bouncing up and down on the chair like a trampoline and rocking the chair back with her hands, as if to deliberately annoy the people behind. Again, her parents just let her.
The flight itself was supremely uncomfortable. I was sat in the very back row, and whilst I was fortunate enough not to have anyone next to me, there were only two seats in my row, and the seat pitch was so small it was impossible to get comfortable.
Not even the amenity kit in economy could make up for 10 hours of discomfort; it was a loooooong night!
I’m not one to sleep on aeroplanes but, at some point, even I dozed. I was jolted awake by an air hostess leaning over me to shut my window blind, as it was now daylight. I was so jarred I didn’t manage to sleep again for the rest of the flight; my anxiety levels have been so high for so long I am constantly in survival mode.
If nothing else, it was motivation to be able to fly business class one day!
The flight may have been something of a challenge but I couldn’t help but feel content that I’d achieved three continents in 24 hours, and that I was about to embark on another adventure…
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