Sick Note

Ok, there's a chain snorer in the room and it isn't the Japanese guy. This is when hostelling can get quite tough going.

I wearily decide to take the coastal path along the solid wall of the Topkapi Palace, which I visited yesterday. I can see why this fortress was only breached twice in it's extensive history- once by the Crusaders, and once by the Ottomans who were to rule until modern day Turkey was created in 1923. Whereas Athens was the city of dog, Istanbul is very much the city of the cat. Nobody, however, has told this to the pooch who has been following me about this morning. I have no words of wisdom for it, or even a doggy snack. Instead, Rover has to make do with a bourbon biscuit. He doesn't look too overwhelmed by it all.

I take the short ferry trip, crossing the Bosphorus Strait over to Asia. There's a host of ferries plying their trade from a number of piers, cutting their way through the uninviting, icy waters on a day when the sun is being bashful. Sitting in a cafe near the pier, I observe the rows of shipping containers and the squalls of seagulls coasting noisily overhead. An extremely large cargo ship makes its way south to the Mediterranean, and onwards to larger waters.

My cursory glance of Asia over, I taxi back across to the west. Taking the boat across is definitely one of the things you should do here, even if it's just to tick it off the to do list. It certainly has given me a greater appreciation and perspective of this unique city. Taking the boat back, I get a great waterside view of The Blue Mosque, Agia Sophia and Topkapi Palace, all lined up in dramatic effect. The thaw of snow has already began, leaving that annoying slushy residue everywhere. The air is still cold, with the biting westerly wind continuing to penetrate. The streets are subdued today. I chat to a sweet shop owner who tells me that Sundays are much quieter throughout the year. He also mentions the new type of Turkish Delight (made in long rolls) popular with the tourists as it's easier to eat. Unsurprisingly, it has yet to catch on with the locals.

I finally observe some men gritting (you think it's bad in the UK) one of the main squares, shovelling great spades of it out of the back of a lorry. I take a picture and walk towards the steps. SPLAT!! One of them catches me with a shovel full on the back. They come across all apologetic through their collectively cheeky veneer. A local street seller dusts me off, and the funny side is observed. Things could be worse- the first Scottish voice of the trip is heard outside a bank ATM informing someone that his card has just been swallowed. On a Sunday too.

Today witnesses a great cultural coming together, a mixture of ideologies and opinions. Yes, you've guessed it: a trip to the barbers. It most surely is one of my favourite events of a foreign sojourn. Always educational, always good fun, and usually bally successful to boot. There's a few of us in today and we all enjoy the usual manly chat about football. Amongst the crowd, there is one Fenerbahce fan. The rest are all supporters of the other Istanbul powerhouse (and arch rivals) Galatasaray. The hairdresser pulls out the newspaper with the team news for this evening's game in mid cut. We discuss the team lines as he puts the finishing touches to my Arabic quiff, before finally burning the wispy hairs on my ear with his cigarette lighter. Nice touch. There's the usual quick massage and a swift couple of neck cricks. The job is complete. "Come on Galatasaray", I shout as I make my way out into the cold once more. Now I just need the game to not be cancelled.

The game is not cancelled. After negotiating a tram, the funicular train, and the Metro, I make it to the stadium and acquire my match ticket for the cheaper uncovered section of the ground, where I join a few hundred hardy souls. Just before kickoff, the authorities take pity on us and upgrade us to the warmer, more populated (and importantly) covered main stand, where it's a grab what you can stampede. The limited crowd, by its very nature, is the the committed few, and the atmosphere, like you can imagine, is very vibrant. Rumour has it the loudest ever noise recorded at a football game was a Galatasaray- Fenerbahce game a few seasons ago.

I use my seat to stand on due to it's thick covering of snow, and every one else doing likewise in front of me. Considering the conditions, there is no shortage of skill on display. An early sending off for the visitors results in a fairly one sided match, yet a Galatasaray victory is only sealed in the latter stages of the game, after a missed penalty and innumerable other chances. Jo, formerly of Manchester City, makes his debut, and, surprise surprise, Harry Kewell is injured.

It was a great experience to come here tonight. The conditions made it an unforgettable (and frankly very cold) adventure. The snowball sub game was pretty humorous as the opposition Number 29 and club mascot experienced a volley of missiles throughout the night. However, my favourite moment was just before kick-off when Native American war drum music kicked in, and everybody started doing the "nodding donkey". A champagne moment on a fine evening.