Istanbul, day one

Have arrived in Istanbul. Think I've managed to stave off jetlag with some well-timed naps on the plane and a very expensive shower in KL.

Am staying at a pension in Sultanahmet below Aya Sofia and near the Blue Mosque during Rammazan (the Turkish version) so I'll be woken by sun-up calls to prayers - woo hoo. Stupidly did not realise that the Lonely Planet expression 'the pension is popular with Japanese travellers' was a clue to the size of my abode which makes the panic room look like the Bosphorus. Oh well, it's quaint and homely and Ali the owner is either really nice or trying to rip me off blind. He walked me to his mates' travel agency and is keen on us having regular catch-ups... I obliged and he and travel buddy both laughed at why I would possibly want to go to Cyprus?- ah a WEDDING! That's ok then. You know that the other side of Cyprus doesn't exist don't you? Jesus, yes, yes I know, sorry to trouble you.

Traffic is carnage here although i've not been oohing and arghing from the back seat like I normally do - partly because I'd hyperventilate and also because I can't identify any road rules let alone benchmarks of traffic rules. At least in Sydney we have more than one lane and a tenth of the population.

Istanbul is Santiago, Chile except instead of dogs, they have kittens and are Mouslim, not Cathlolic. And like the Chileans, the Turkish people are just drop-dead gorgeous. If I was so inclined, I think I could evidence that blondes have more fun.

Half the buildings here are in disrepair and the others are glorious. All of them are sprinkled with oversized sea birds that circle minarets like vultures. The grand bazaar is, surprisingly, grand. Like Theseus in the labrynth, I walked in at sundown when the shops were closing and the store owners were pulling out their stools and tables for suppers of black tea after they'd washed their hands over the cobblestones beneath cerulean decorated domes as prayers and songs echoed over the load speakers in Arabic. I got Orientalist goose bumps against all my better judgement. This five second scene has of course eclipsed the hours of European haute couture rockin on by. I especially like the silk hijabs with matching Ferrari pumps.

Have been personally navigating a bump of emotions which, in true Josh fashion is an inner storm. Long walks and writing is keeping me chipper. Starved of conversation already but not enough to go and bug Ali with opportunities for him to input or offer insider 'assistance'.