Orient Express—Arriving in Istanbul

Readers, note that I am skipping posts about Sydney for now. I've been in Istanbul for three days and have been so busy that I'm running out of time at the end of the day to blog.

I arrived in Istanbul after sunset on October 31, with barely enough light to make out the red tile roofs of the city's buildings clustered at the west edge of the Sea of Marmara. It took a long time to exit the loaded 777; I was in row 42. But the visa process was quick and exactly as stated: hand over passport and $20 U.S., the unsmiling clerk affixes the stamp, and you're in. Customs and immigration were fast, too, and not too long after landing, I caught sight of Sue's red hair just beyond the exit from the secured area.

We greeted each other with a big hug and then headed out to the curb. She phoned Umit, the driver, and we dodged a couple lanes of traffic, arriving at the pickup point just as he pulled up in the giant BMW Sue had warned me about. Sue's husband, Sankar, has been in Istanbul for the last three years managing operations in Eastern Europe, the Middle East, and Africa for a major corporation. 

The company provided a lovely apartment and this unwieldy vehicle. The couple, who own a Mini Cooper back at home, asked if they might get the same vehicle as the other employees stationed here: a VW Passat. The streets of Istanbul are small and crowded, and it would be so much easier to maneuver. But company policy is what it is, and it dictated that a man of Sankar's rank be seen in the Beemer.

Umit helped me load my one small carryon into the trunk, and I sank into the leather seat, reveling in the softness and comfort. He got behind the wheel and maneuvered the car into the main flow of traffic. We spilled out onto a major thoroughfare, crowded with rush hour vehicles. I was impressed by how nimbly Umit slotted the big car into the smallest of gaps with little time to spare. We rolled past mile after mile of commercial properties, the walls facing the highway aglow with signs and advertisements. Sue pointed out that these ads replace the free standing billboards that line American freeways. Istanbul has many large shopping malls, she explains as we pass another block plastered with the names of international merchants: Best Buy, Sony, Phillips, Gap, and Levis.

Although it had grown completely dark, the lights of streets and houses traced the contours of many hills and valleys. Our route climbed to the top of one, and in the distance, the cables of a bridge stood out, lit in blue against the inky blackness of the Bosphorus. A few twinkling lights from ships could be seen moving slowly through the channel. Umit squeezed the BMW into the narrow right lane and we sped away from the stalled traffic up an exit ramp.

“All that traffic is waiting to get across the bridge,” Sue explained, gesturing to the freeway we'd just left. “The bridge is about a mile away, so that's how long the traffic jam is. And today wasn't bad.”

As we wound our way through narrow streets at speeds that amazed me, Sue called Sankar to let him know we would be home in about five minutes. We traveled up and down hills and then came to a stop on a steep, narrow street. Umit set the emergency brake and walked around to unload the trunk. Just as I opened my own door, the sound of the Islamic call to prayer rang out over the hills. I've heard the wavering call many times before in movies and travelogues, but to hear it echoing through the streets of the city in real time grabbed me the same way seeing a cockatoo in someone's front yard did in Australia.

While we ate a light supper of tomato soup, Turkish salad (tomatoes, cucumber, parsley, vinaigrette) and bread, Sankar told me about his next assignment, developing the internal market in China. He will be doing that from their home in Minnesota, so I will be their last guest before they leave Istanbul. Sankar asked me for whatever insights I could give him about Chinese attitudes and preferences. Although I'd been awake for most of the last 24 hours, I perked up and shared what I knew from my experiences there. Sankar is a rewarding person to talk to because he's knowledgable, open minded, and engaged. He gave me his attention, but I could see that what I was telling him was incubating new ideas in his mind, even as we spoke, and he was filing them away as fast as he could. The guy has an amazing brain.

After a couple ounces of good red wine, I was about ready to fall over, so I took a quick shower and was in bed by 9:30. I had 24 cents left on my Skype Out account, so I rang up Gauss's cell. He answered, telling me that he'd arrived in San Jose and was waiting for the shuttle to take him to Caltrain. I let him know that I've gotten to Istanbul, the flight was good, I was down to 17 cents, and I would be asleep in two minutes. He said a quick goodbye. I folded up the laptop and was off to dreamland within minutes.