I arrived spent, tired and cold in Istanbul.
I hadn't slept a wink on the 11-hour flight and it took nearly two hours to clear passport control.
To make matters worse, to save a buck, I took the subway -- meaning with sleep deprivation, I had to make an underground transfer from one line to another.
Then whey I arrived at Sirkeci Station, I had to ride three or four lengths of terrifyingly steep, seemed like football field length escalators -- all with bookbag on back and luggage in tow.
The early evening air was much cooler than I expected, with the nearby Golden Horn/Bosphorus bodies of water fueling the nippy breezes.
I was starving, but also felt like I could throw up.
One of the reasons I love Sirkeci is the wealth of local restaurants on little streets too narrow for a car to drive on,
Operators speak enough English to assist tourists, but the local trade drives the economy -- meaning prices are low and quality is high.
I had read about Hocapasa Pidecisi -- opened in 1964, the year I was born.
When I got to it, the outside tables were packed. It was sundown and an observant Muslim city was breaking the long daily fast in observance of Ramazan.
www.hocapasa.com.tr
No comments:
Post a Comment