A Woman Alone..

...is not the same as a lonely woman, despite what some people may think. I would be interested to know if a man walking around the streets of Istanbul would get the same attention as me. Sure there is an element of 'my uncle owns a carpet shop' to the whole proceedings but it is definitely underlined by a fair amount of 'woman, you are woman!'

Now I decided that I would be good this year. Last time I was in Turkey I was horrified by the attention- this is flirting with an element of threat to it- but this time I promised myself that I would just enjoy it- while not too much and end up signing my whole life away to a Turkish waiter with a glint in his eye.

So I relaxed, I casually flirted, I even bought a damn carpet for goodness's sake! But yesterday I walked for around eight hours. Several of which were away from Sultanahmet- the touristy area around the Blue Mosque where I am staying. I walked down though the Grand Bazaar to Galata Bridge and along the other side of the water to the Bosphorous Strait and looked at the ginormous cruise ships hulked up there. I caught a funicular all the way to Taksim (one stop and no one took liberties with any part of me this time) hardly glanced at the gun shops and wandered around the bustling shopping area.

I walked down the hill and to the Galata Tower where, it is reported, someone flew several hundred years ago. The Sultan was so freaked out by this that he exiled him. There has been a tower on the same spot for one and a half thousand years- now that is a long time. It offers awesome views across the city though there is little to do up there in the daytime once you have been round it a couple of times.

I had something to eat under the bridge- not troll style but in one of the many restaurants there- peering through the fine mesh of fishing lines connecting the men above me to the water below. Back to the Golden Horn side of the city I stumbled across the Spice Bazaar more by luck than planning.

It is smaller than the Grand Bazaar but along similar lines. They were selling something being touted as Turkish viagra- not something much needed by anyone that I have met so far- which promised to enable a fellow to go at it five times a night without stopping. Pretty potent stuff by all accounts and not something that I want to be anywhere near.

A salesman made the mistake of thinking that if he slagged off my bag enough I might buy one of his:

'your bag is old, dirty and not handmade' he cried
'just like you,' I muttered under my breath

I pushed my way back to Sultanahmet where I was met by crowds of people who just wanted to ask me 'one question, I am not trying to sell anything....' I was followed for a while and finally got rid of one by blowing my nose and pointing out that I was busy!

Nearly back at the hotel I came across my favourite Turkish waiter- I always speak to him though have never eaten at his restaurant- he asked me how my day had been but seemed to notice the 'keep away vibes' that I had been radiating for some time. Something his friend further along the road had failed to do:

'just one question!'
'ask your friend, I have already told him all the answers!'
'YOU ARE NOT KIND'

and so another restaurant was ticked off my list of places where I will never eat.

Exhausted I crawled back into the hostel and the safety of the roof top bar- where I snuggled under a blanket and read a trash book I had found on the bookcase downstairs for some hours.

Ah, I complain but here I am, halfway to the Grand Bazaar again, something keep drawing me back and I am sure that it isn't the carpets:)