February 11, 2014
Morning Routine
So much for good intentions. Getting out of bed early, to leave Istanbul today wasn't happening. I woke at my usual time, shortly after six and remain lying a while feeling tired and thinking, "Oh no. I leave today. Do I really have to?" Instead of getting out of bed as I should've, I reach for my netbook. I have an email from my sister, which is a reply to a mail I sent yesterday. Things are find at home and the work situation is picking up. A good thing to hear. She expresses surprise that I'll be back as soon as April. It'll be a surprise to me too if I cycle all the way from here, Istanbul to Ireland by then. But seriously, in the next eight weeks or so, I'll be upping the pace; riding six days and taking one rest day in the week. She signs off: See you in April then.
Then I click on the cycle-touring site, CGOAB and read a couple of pages of a journal I'm catching up on. An excellent read set in South East Asia. By now I've given up on getting back on the road today, deciding on another day here.
It is seven o'clock when my feet touch the floor and I want to have a shower. But the cleaner is cleaning in there. She speaks a small bit of English and complains about people leaving the shower without cleaning after themselves. I agree with her. Some people are very messy and wash all sorts of things in the shower you know, but not me. Showering will wait until after breakfast. Breakfast is the usual bread and butter. The Koreans are having noodles, but its not something I'd fancy first thing. The woman who mans the counter always pours ten per cent tea in the tea-glass and ninety per cent hot water, that is why it is good when she goes out to the roof terrace to smoke, so I sneak in and pour a glass of ninety per cent prove tea. As I do so, a voice calls out "Hey! Where yeah from?" An American. I go and sit at the same table. He tells me he's living in China and teaches English. About learning the Chinese characters and now knows enough to order food in restaurants and avoid being served something like intestines. Together with a Japanese guy, we remain at breakfast until it finishes at nine.
I have a belated shower, a shave, wash underwear and spend some time sitting out in the balcony reading. It is nineteen-thirties Greece and the fascist dictator is wondering why he isn't more respected in his own land. Why Mussolini is picking disputes with Greece. And why he hasn't been welcomed by Hitler into Europe's club of fascist states. At lease if Italy decide to invade, he can depend on Britain, a liberal state against his good fascist ideals.
I've the bike in order, deciding there is enough wear in the brake-pads. The best bike shop only had cheap brake-blocks. The kind that clamp by a nut. The only solution would be to buy the complete cantilever calibre, plus wrenches, as they are external nut fixing instead of countersank alley key.
Mid morning I set off for one more walk across town. Starting with the Blue Mosque. I'm there during the call to prayer; loudly echoing out overhead across the square, then pausing while the echo returns from the mosque opposite.
I've taken more photos today and have finished off across the river on the long pedestrian street where I sit having a coffee to the ambiance of street musicians; a double bass, a horn and a small Asian girl singing. There was one other detail in the email from my sister: there remains a lot more money in my bank account than I thought. So perhaps I could stay away longer.
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