The Princes Islands and the Bosphorous Strait

Tuesday October 16th

Photos are here:
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=17798&l=6cf6e&id=513701387

After spending three or four days in Istanbul we were a bit fed-up with the general madness and needed a break. The funshine had finally re-emerged and this being the case we decided to do a couple of boat tours. We strolled down to the Eminonu harbour to take a ferry boat up the Bosphorus Strait to the Karadeniz- the Black Sea. However we got there a bit too late so we revised our plans and decided to go to the Princes' Islands. These Islands are so named because they were used to permanently intern banished Sultan princes; usually by the current Sultan - be it a father or brother or uncle. Now this may sound a pretty terrible way of treating your family but believe me it is humane compared to the usual method. Basically when a Sultan passed away (this was often an event that could be hurried along) accession to the throne was decided through murder: fratricide, infanticide, nephewcide.. unclecide.. you get the picture - in order to secure your position as Sultan you needed to kill your brothers. This often was preempted by sons murdering fathers, uncles murdering nephews and suchlike. It reminds me of the Wizards of the Unseen University in Terry Pratchet's Discworld novels. Who are always backstabbing and double dealing each other in order to rise up the hierarchy toward Arch-Challencer. Except it is pretty dark. Actually, a more apropos comparison I can draw from William Blake's chilling description of potential of humans to inflict misery:

"Cruelty has a human heart,

And Jealousy a human face,

Terror the human form divine,

And Secrecy the human dress.



The human dress is forgèd iron,

The human form a fiery forge,

The human face a furnace seal'd,

The human heart its hungry gorge."

I think the last princes were murdered in the 17th century. After that some bright spark came up with the bright idea of having the first born prince as the heir. Before that it was just fun and games all round. One lovely chap, I believe it may have been Selim the Grim, murdered all three of his nephews in order to secure accession for their brother. Another unrelated, but interesting story, relates to the Byzantine king - Andronikos Komnenos. He was an über funboy. Bright, talented, courageous, and a complete libertine. He had made many attempts to gain control of Constantinople. He finally came to power in 1182 by usurping the boyking Alexios II Komnenos after the emperor, his father, had died to years before. Andronikos ruled for a relatively short period. Meanwhile the deposed Alexios went west to Europe and a petitioned the pope and the knights of the crusades to aid him in regaining his throne. The good Christian knights were more than happy to help - for a fee: money makes the world go round. A huge force led by one Enrico Dandolo - the Doge of Venice - marched on Constantinople in 1183. Andrinikos realising he had no chance buggered off with alacrity to Cyprus; but not before robbing most of the royal treasury; he was a canny lad. Alexios was now restored to king but unfortunately he couldn't pay the army of rather hot and bothered, and expectant knights. They camped outside of Constantinople - probably getting more hot and bothered by each passing day, whilst Alexios tried fobbing them off. They finally cracked and sacked and pillaged the city. Andrinikos was brought back to the city and handed over to an angry mob for justice. They pulled him to pieces - literally.

The ferry usually goes from Eminonu - but it had temporarily been moved to Kabataç. So we had to get a tram. Before doing so we tried one of Istanbul's famous fish sandwiches. These can be pretty touch-and-go healthwise; you may well end up puking your ring up if you get a dodgy one. However ours were good and at three Turkish lira, they were also a bargain.

We took the ferry from Kabataç out in the Marmara Sea. The view of Istanbul from the ferry was absolutely gorgeous. It is really quite something to see the city from the sea. We decided to explore the Island of Helybiliada. It is supposed to be the prettiest of all the islands. On the way, Marcus befriended a group of Iraqii tourists. They were on holiday in Turkey and could speak no Turkish. They could speak a little English, but could not read it. In short they were having problems figuring anything out. They really took to Marcus and they planned to hang out with him for the rest of the day - starting with getting off at Helybiliada with us. I found this a source of great amusement until I realised that meant they'd be hanging out with me too. They were pretty cool guys, although there dress sense was a bit alarming. most of them were wearing red, brown, and yellow versions of Michael Jackson's Beat It leather jacket. They looked like Bagdhad's version of the Brady bunch, and one of them was a doppelganger for beaker from the Muppet Show. Suffice to say when we got to Helybiliada we scarpered!

We decided to hire some bikes out and we rode around the Island for the afternoon. It was a pleasant ride and nice to get some exercise. We rode up to the monastery, that was unfortunately closed and at the top of a huge b*stard hill. When we got back to the port to get the boat we bumped into the Brady Bunch again. They weren't best pleased with Marcus's earlier snubbing of them so they were ignoring us. We started back to Kabataç and got chatting to a guy who live on the great island - the largest of the Princes' Islands. We found out quite by accident that the boat was not going to Istanbul but somewhere south in the Marmara see. We quickly jumped off the boat at the next stop as it was last one back to Istanbul; unfortunately we had forgotten totally about the Iraqiis. As the boat pulled away from the harbour we saw them on the top, they all stood and grinned and gave us the thumbs up signs. It was very poignant seeing Iraq's answer to the Groovy Gang: happily smiling as they headed off to God-only-knows where in the Marmara with no idea how to get back. I hoped we'd never see them again. Well I guess it didn't matter as they'd blame Marcus anyway. Maybe this is how international disputes start...



We got back to Istanbul and decided to go for a Meyhane. A Meyhane is a Turkish tavern serving delicious food with live, loud, music and lots of Raki (a Turkish liqueor) and wine. There is an area pretty much dedicated to it in Begoylu called Nevizade Sokak. We ambled down there and got a table in a balcony overlooking a teeming narrow street; and got hammered. It was good fun and well worth doing. Afterward we wandered around for a while stopping and drinking beers. We were on our way home when we passed an Irish bar called the Irish centre. The late Pete McCarthy, author of the fantastic eponymously titled book: McCarthy's bar, has a complex set of rules regarding not passing an Irish bar with your name on it without stopping for a drink. (something I have not had much chance to employ given my surname is Parle) I have discerned the cororally of this to be do not pass an Irish bar; we could break this down even further but then I'd probably have never got out of London this Autumn. to wit the result was we stopped in and a had a couple of beers. Siobhen, Pem, Alli - you would have been proud. It wasn't too bad actually, a live band was on singing Van Morisson and we finished our night there. Tomorrow is our last day in Istanbul.