Sultanahmet Sunday 28th.

Ilze will write at length about Dubai, suffice it to say at the Non Ian G end of the spectrum, we found it hot and oppressive, garish and crass.  Look for Ilze’s photos from the Egyptian themed shopping centre in coming issues and the only camel we saw was in bright yellow fibreglass.  We did, however, find the call to prayer unexpectedly melodic and moving.  Pressing on to Istanbul and arriving to find no transport, we negotiated a lift in a Mercedes mini bus with an Islamic family.  60 year old Dad, suit and no tie, accmpanied by six shapeless shapes in the full black robe and veil.  Ilze and I in the front. them in the back and after a few kms of peak hour traffic it became clear he was just another poor bloke with his missus and five daughters all with smart phones and driving him crazy,  It was painfully clear that he did not wear the pants in his family.

Having moved in with Deb and Ian and desperate for some quiet time together we engaged the shameful ploy of not understanding the daylight saving changes to drive them away at 4.00am and have the apartment to ourselves for the next two days.  Drank beer, ate glutenfull food and all that good stuff we can’t do when they get back.  After a leisurely breakfast of sauteed tomatoes and prosuciuto spiced with mint and cumin we did the Blue Mosque and the Hippodrome all  just 200 metres away. Up hill though, so I am now off to bed.

Peter.