Day 46 – Time to La Manche: 0930 – 1110 – Departed Calais: 1135 (UK time) – Arrival: 1430

Final trip milage: 7,002 miles between Islamabad & Palestine (Hampshire!)

Home in Hampshire!

We had one last challenge: to repack the car in order to make space for our cherubs to return to the UK with us. Our trusty chariot needed one last push to get us all home.

Until now we had carried three 20 litre jerry cans, one of which was still full with diesel brought all the way from Pakistan. These cans had been our ‘insurance’, giving us about an 800 mile range with a full internal tank. This was essential while travelling in Central Asia where diesel was either nigh impossible to get hold of or was of such poor quality it would compromise the engine. We estimated the cans’ cumulative weight was equal to that of Max(!). Filling the car with the remaining can we left all three empties in storage and took out the food box, now pretty much devoid of food and all the Army rations that had kept us going, and replaced these with the various purchases from along the way. With a very stringent repack there was now space for Charlotte (phew!) – we hadn’t bargained on the children having quite such large bags but with a squeeze and a push everything we needed, and everyone, was on board!

Always in the back of our minds was the thought, “Are we going to make it?” We were after all travelling in a 15 year old car, the provenance of which we had no notion other than that of the past two years since I had been driving it in Islamabad (was that a good thing, or a bad thing?!). It had originally come from the UK and had some service records so in those we put our trust. We were amazed that in all the miles we had travelled, and the testing terrain that we had traversed over two thirds of the journey, we still had not had a puncture. The journey was not yet over. We had another 190 or so miles to cover, and the Channel crossing – all the opportunity for a jinx was there!

Cote d’Opal countryside

Arriving at the Tunnel check in – the last border post before home!

Murray had had the foresight to book our Channel Tunnel ticket a number of days before, mindful that it was the end of half term and deemed one of the busiest days of the year. I wondered if we would have trouble bringing the car with its Islamabad Diplomatic Plates into the UK but this hadn’t been an issue so far. Having set off in surprisingly (for a Whiteside!) good time we arrived at the check-in point with a host of other travellers. It was the busiest I had ever seen it. Nevertheless we got through the queue in good time and with only a brief set of questions from the British immigration and customs officer we were through and homeward bound!!

One last train photo . . .

Well, you can’t have everything. A grey colourless sky is comfortingly familiar

(I was coerced to add this)

Half an hour in the train, anticipating our arrival finally in the UK!

Driving back on the right hand side of the road the familiarity of it all rather subdued us but we were deeply content and tinged with relief now being safely back on UK soil after all those miles. The M25 still had enormous amounts of traffic but it was flowing. The M3 was now clear of road works – good things come to those who wait! And the car was behaving, although feeling the weight going up hill.

7,000 miles on the clock!! So nearly there.

Badges of honour! Flags of all the countries we drove through.

We watched the milometer flick over the miles as simultaneously the fuel gauge dropped. Just shy of reaching 7,000 miles, the cumulative distance we had travelled since leaving Islamabad some 46 days ago and having passed through 20 countries, we made a short detour to fill up the tank. At 7,002 miles we were home!!!

The view from our home in the setting sun. A fitting sight to end our journey.

TO CONCLUDE:

With some days now behind us since we arrived home we have slotted right back into the whirl of every day life with little time yet to reflect on the totality of our trip, from its inception, to the hours of planning and eventually to getting on the road. We are tremendously grateful to our respective employers, Simon Gordon and the MoD, for granting us this time off work.

It has been a great privilege to see so many unfamiliar lands, some truly magnificent geography and to meet some extraordinary people while experiencing cultures so different to our own. That said, we still can’t understand Cyrillic script and have a dreadful ear for unfamiliar foreign languages! (I put it that Georgian was the simply the most challenging of tongues.) We did however marvel at the continued influence of the Silk Road with the migration of cultures and trade still very much in evidence from China to Europe.

We are enormously grateful to all our family and friends who have supported this endeavour not least by caring for all our children’s needs in our absence and for all the words of encouragement sent via emails and texts. Thank you to you all for your kindness and generosity and not least for indulging us by reading the account of our travels.

With our love and best wishes,

Murray and Amanda

03/11/17

Temperature: 17ºC

Le Touquet – Paris Plage

Saying goodbye to my father and Lindy – they were heading home to allow us some quiet time together and, I imagine, to have a jolly good rest after the challenges and activities of the previous few days in charge of our ‘charges’ – we headed into Le Touquet for the day to enjoy the market and the fantastic assortment of fare on offer. For once it wasn’t raining (a regional characteristic), nor was it too windy!

We ate the perfect French lunch (snails, muscles, devilled kidneys, salads and obviously baguette) in the Restaurant du Marche and strolled along the huge expanse of beach and into the dunes to watch the kite surfers. It was a heavenly day.

Wonderful vibrant fresh veg!

One can’t pass up the opportunity to sample a little fizz – with a professional stance, of course!

Fish – the boat had definitely come in, unlike in Turkey.

Le Touquet mrachet

The Continent Express . . . may be this in an option for next time?

Family snaps!

Distance: 264 miles – Time: 0750 – 1330 – Temperature: 8 – 15ºC

The straight, clear road ahead into northern France

The excitement levels were stratospheric. Murray woke at 4.00, I snoozed on until 5.30. The weather was abysmally wet and windy in the early hours of the morning so we resisted getting up and setting off until after breakfast had appeared in the hotel restaurant at 7 a.m. The car was loaded and armed with maps and a fixed route plan to avoid all the road works on the Belgian auto-routes we set off just after 0730 in a direction I calculated would avoid most of the Luxembourg city commuter traffic. We had been warned about it the night before. It took us an hour and half to get out of Luxembourg – all of 24 km. Deeply frustrating – we should have sought local advice for the best route before setting off. With a lack of local road knowledge, heavy, heavy traffic and too much anticipation to get a move on we finally broke out and got into Belgium just after 9 a.m. Relief!

We had a very definite plan to drive the most direct route to the village of Loison sur Créquoise (where the family were waiting in the holiday house) in northern France, knowing some the roads from our previous travels from Le Touquet to the Trois Vallées in the French Alps. We knew the roads to be largely straight and usually pretty void of heavy traffic. The route from Arlon (Belgium) to Sedan (France) and on to Charleville Mézières was reasonable and without too much traffic and it was lovely to be in familiar countryside with rolling lush green farmland punctuated with woodland. However, from Charleville Mézières to Cambrai it became clear this was now a much used run for heavy haulage lorries on their way to the North Sea and Channel ports – our forth sea of the trip! – or to avoid the toll roads to take them north to Brussels.

Big French skies

One of the many cemeteries on the outskirts of Arras

We did not spare the proverbial horses. Murray drove like a demon, working as a team we overtook lorry after lorry until we got ahead of the bulk of the tranche of them. We scooted along on a short section of motorway to Arras, having been foiled by a rural ‘déviation’, all to the good. We then picked up the newly built dual carriageway from Arras to Le Touquet. The gods were on our side!

It is a moving route to take. The wide sweeping landscape is littered with cemeteries of the many war graves, all beautifully kept in ordered agricultural landscape. It never fails to make an impact.

Arriving in Loison after five and a half hours continuous driving we first saw little Union Jack flags decorating the flower baskets on the bridge over the river Créquoise. Slightly puzzled but not really taking them on board we were faced with large Union Jack with a picture of the Queen tethered to a hedge – this smacked of my father’s hand! – coursing up the lane to the house we found the hedges and drive strewn with Union Jack bunting and a wonderful ‘welcome back’ banner made by the children!

Finally! We arrived in Loison

We were filled with joy and love for our children and family, but we were keenly missing Zara. I can’t express just how happy and relieved we were to be with them. We had made it! Now it was time to pause and relax and enjoy a wonderful time together. Later we were thoroughly spoiled with a fabulous celebratory dinner of incredible sea food, roasted duck, Champagne and chocolate cake. What a welcome and a perfect way to end the day!!

In the last vestiges of our cleanest clothes!

Lindy and Pa outside the new summer house

Murray scrutinising the last page of his plan – we had made it!

Happy times with Max and Charlotte

Distance travelled: 421 miles – Time: 0845 – 1735

Whizzing past German vineyards in autumnal hues near Annweiler

A big day’s drive ahead we set off full of excitement with the prospect of seeing our much missed and beloved children in just one day’s time. Murray had not seen them since mid August when they were last in Islamabad and for me when I had deposited them at their respective schools at the beginning of September. We were feeling keenly that we would not see Zara. She was well ensconced in Edinburgh in her first term at university.

It was a national holiday in Austria and so we were expecting the roads out of Salzburg and into Germany to be clear of commuters. We had not bargained on the German authorities causing massive delays and queues on account of road works and customs checks – not the efficiency of a gross national generalisation we were expecting! Taking advantage of more national generalisations by not queuing with everyone else, Murray saw an opportunity to come off the motorway at the service station slip road next to the border control and nip back on ahead of the queue. Genius! It must have saved us at least an hour of queuing.

Through the Austrian-German border, evading a rigorous customs check, and on to the open roads.

The road works on the German autobahn were frequent and frustrating. Channelling the traffic to single lanes from three every 50 – 100 km or so made for a long day’s drive. Half way into the morning we received a call from my father to say that they had had a major plumbing disaster in the French house which meant we would probably have to abort our plans of meeting them with the children as they would have to return to the UK that afternoon. We were all utterly devastated and despondent at this news. All planning on both sides, and the driving since our stasis in Baku had been made so that we could all spend some time together at the end their half term holiday.

The next few hours were spent with us scouring booking.com and airBNB to find alternative accommodation in Le Touquet for my father and his partner, Lindy, who were desperately trying to fix the burst pipe in the kitchen. With the much appreciated help of their neighbour, and multiple trips to the local plumbers’ merchant, the pipe was eventually fixed and to our joy and relief the plans were back on track!

We reached Luxembourg just before 5p.m. Finding our hotel on the outskirts of the city we then headed into a very foggy Luxembourg centre and thence to the Palais de Chine restaurant devouring a much craved Peking duck. Bliss! Great food and delicious wine.

This is what the Golden Lady really looks like! (Courtesy of an internet derived photo)

Luxembourg on a foggy night! Armed with our basic ‘burner’ phone we managed a few atmospheric photos: the stunning Monument of Remembrance topped by the Gëlle Far – the Golden Lady; the Grand Duchesse Charlotte and ethereal spires.

Time: 10:05 – 16:00 – Distance travelled: 255 miles – Cumulative: 6,070 miles

The  renowned Mozart Kugeln chocolates 

Our mission now reverted back to focusing on ‘the drive’. Our pit stops from now on were exactly that. We had to cover the planned distances over the next two days so that we could meet up with our family who were waiting for us at the family house in northern France. It was the half term holiday for Max and Charlotte and both sides of the family had dug out to ensure the children were looked after during half term until our arrival. We were both feeling quietly tense and full of anticipation at meeting them on time and without incident for these last several hundred miles.

The Austrian roads were predictably good and fast. The countryside was beautiful as it crumpled from the lush green hills into the eastern Alps. Murray was rather annoyed and disappointed that I had navigated us on to the autobahn rather than through the meandering hill roads at a point where the roads were under repair. To mitigate this sense of being cheated of the Austrian country once we had popped out of endless tunnels (I had to admit it was a very dull albeit rapid way to travel through Austria) we headed off the motorway and down to Lake Attersee to have a lunch break. What a charming and pretty place this proved to be.

We pressed on to Salzburg and arrived at the edge of the pedestrian area of the city at Hotel Aldstadt Hofwirt, (with great underground parking, where I dropped my phone – a very bad moment as the LCD failed and I had the black screen of doom. No more Maps.me, photos or emails on the move – I was quietly in a sizzling fume) just before dark. Zara had visited Salzburg during a school skiing trip and was wowed by its prettiness. With this in mind we were keen to see the city. It was indeed a beautiful city, especially at dusk. Murray was satisfied with his purchase of not one but three Salzburg fridge magnates, depicting the home city of Mozart. It had become his second mission, to secure where possible, a fridge magnate from each of our stopovers – his souvenirs of the trip . . . frequently stating that all he got was a lousy fridge magnate . . .

Feeling very miffed having dropped my phone

We knew if we returned to the hotel before supper we would not venture out again so we had a reassuringly expensive Aperol spritz in the main plaza before chancing upon a terrific traditional beer house called Zipfer Bierhaus. Eating good solid Austrian dishes with lashings of local beer in a very congenial setting, and hearing Mozart played on a violin by a busker, we were replete and felt we had done just enough justice to Salzburg.

Distance travelled: 101 miles

Inside the Mushroom Museum!

After an early night having eschewed the notion of finishing the evening in the dodgy casino (to which we had been acquainted some years ago) we woke to the toll of church bells – we adored that! So much kinder on the ear than the offset triplicate call to prayer we used to have just before sunrise in Islamabad.

The rain had stopped as forecast and we set off for a morning stroll around Zagreb. The centre of the city has an attractive European look, with part bricked paved streets and blue trams that whizz silently through the mix of traffic and pedestrians – quite alarming if one doesn’t concentrate! We walked through Park Josipa Jurja Strossmayera where the smart of Zagreb walk their dogs. It was a lovely sight. With the autumn leaves falling about chicly dressed people – and dogs – we felt we had truly reached Europe. There was a flutter of interest as a very tall man passed us with an gleamingly well groomed, white fluffy hound. Murray declared it was the unseeded Croatian Wimbledon winner, Goran Ivanišević. It took me a heartbeat to realised that he was talking about the man, not the dog!

With bright blue skies overhead and only a light breeze when out of the wind tunnelled streets, we ventured into to Zagreb Cathdral and marvelled at the Baroque décor. The fruit and vegetable market on the Dolac was in full swing and a delight to see. We stocked up on some much needed vitamin C in the form of tangerines and pomegranates and, low and behold, discovered that the Mushroom Museum – Muzej gljiva – was now open! It was not to be missed. This tiny museum tucked away in amongst a block of apartments above the central plaza was testament to the passion of one very enthusiastic man, a professor of mycology, Prof. dr. sc. Romano Božac.

We had to do this museum justice – it had taken some effort (and a significant entrance fee) to get here

Are these hallucinogenic mushrooms . . ?

Excellent research – the mushrooms we found in our garden, and dried but have yet eaten, are edible!!

We returned to our hotel at midday ready to check out with armfuls of bags carrying Croatian speciality chocolates from Krus, fruit and some small gifts in readiness for our next stop. Right from the outset of planning our trip home we had configured the route so that we might visit our special Hungarian friends, the Papps. Tibi had been the head chef at Gordon’s Wine Bar (still my place of work) for 10 years before he and his wife Aliz (who had also worked at Gordon’s before having children) left earlier this year to start a new life back in their homeland with their young family. They have done a remarkable thing. Taking some 8 years in total, they have gradually built their own eco-home on the edge of the beautiful Őrségi Nemzeti national park in southwest Hungary, just across the Solvenian border. We were all really excited to see each other and this was a fabulous opportunity we could not miss.

Entering Slovenia

Slovenian vineyards!

Formidable modern ecclesiastical architecture

More traditional ecclesiastical architecture

We loved this crusader

Incredible baroque decor inside the modest church

Passing swiftly through Slovenia we had to take note of our briefest of stops in this country

Tibi had sent us superb instructions, and photos, to find his home, tucked away in the tiny village of Kercaszomor. Arriving mid afternoon after a straightforward drive out of Zagreb, into Slovenia and on to Hungary (without being challenged by anyone in uniform, in fact the booths were completely unmanned – we were loving being in Europe!) we were met with a wonderful reception from Bati and Edi, the Papp kinder. What a happy time we had. The Papps have built a remarkable home, self sufficient with well-drawn and filtered water, heat from a central wood burner and self generated electricity. Tibi and Aliz spoiled us with the most delicious venison and pork, lashings of palinka with toasts to all our health and happiness, and vats of rosé. The children were utterly delightful, full of affection and fun and with the aid of the dog (!) I learnt my first and only Hungarian phrase, “Mit csinálsz?” – “What are you doing?” (and I am sorry, I accidentally took the ‘dog deterrent’ water bottle!). We had a very jolly time. We crashed out after seeing the most wonderful night sky, filled with stars in a pure, dark midnight blue.

Finding the Papp domain!

A very happy family: Aliz, Tibi, Edua and Bator – the cowboy!

The surrounding countryside – picturesque and calm

Arriving in Kercaszomor to see the Papps

Tibi placing the Hungarian flag with Bator’s help

Murray scrutinising the angles . .

. . phew. It passed the check!

Placing of the Hungarian flag!

Distance travelled: 240 miles – Time: 0940 – 1430

A section of an embroidered vestment from the Zagreb Cathedral treasury

Crossing from Serbia to Croatia was a simple case of showing passports as we passed through the toll booth followed by a quick but expensive trip to the Croatian postal service booth to purchase a European green card, giving us insurance to travel through the rest of Europe – £200 for 15 days of third party cover. Excruciating but necessary.

The weather was miserable. It had dropped 10 degrees compared to the day before and persistent, dense rain accompanied us all the way from Belgrade to Zagreb.

Not the best quality image, taken at speed in the rain, but we looked askance when we noticed the UK had already been peeled off the European map on the back of this lorry!! The shadow of our former presence was just visible.

We were really looking forward to visiting Zagreb. Some nineteen years ago we had spent 24 hours there as a first anniversary present from my parents – in those days airline tickets were actually issued and hand written, with red carbon copies, by a travel agent and so it was fitting to have one representing ‘paper’ as a first wedding anniversary token! Murray had at the time been serving in Bosnia on a six months tour. His boss had given him 24 hours leave and lent him his driver so that he could be at the airport to meet me. The memory is still vivid, he standing waiting for me to come through the airport, decked in ‘combat 95s’ holding an enormous bunch of red gladioli! I was so excited, I can remember the thrill to this day.

Zagreb Airport, 1998!

Not to be deterred by the rain we dropped our things at the hotel and set out to find the main square and revisit the few places we could remember (including the basement mafia like casino where we had run away having won the equivalent of £200!). In doing so we thought we ought to do something cultural. I had seen a curious sign to the ‘Mushroom Museum’. How could we possibly resist that? After all, it was time to exact my revenge having suffered repeated episodes of train spotting (which when driving I invariable mistook as a signal that we were about to crash, having to look up swiftly from my map). Alas, it took us some time to find this secret museum, tucked away on the second floor of a block just off the main square and by the time we had worked out how to get there it was closed. Murray was dashed, I could tell (!).

In search of the elusive magic mushrooms . . 

We settled on having a gentle mooch, visiting the newly restored cathedral and seeing some exquisite restored 16^th Century tapestries and embroidered vestments. The day concluded with a truly civilised dinner at the chic Italian restaurant, Boban.

Extensive restoration work has been undertaken at the Zagreb Cathedral – the old clock face has been kept and the old and new stonework of one of the towers are shown side by side.

Distance travelled: 318 miles

With another reasonably long day of driving ahead we took the decision to set off earlier than we had previously planned and missed going into Sofia. This would allow us to negotiate the border crossing into Serbia and get to Belgrade in time to rest properly and explore a little. We were both feeling the effect of these cumulative long days and Murray had a heavy cold. I had hoped we would meet up with my dear Bulgarian friend Nadia, she had been a great foil in Islamabad when the way of life there became a touch frustrating. I was really saddened not to see her as a result of our plan change but due to our early start I didn’t think she’d appreciate meeting for a cup of tea on the Sofia ring road at 7 a.m. on a Sunday.

We left the sweet Centaur Hotel at Rila and headed north towards Sofia though the pretty rolling countryside and cut around the ring road in good time taking two hours to get to the border. Quite a queue had already grown so we deployed the diplomatic routine and got through in double quick time.

The Centaur Hotel – a beautifully kept family run hostelry

Digging into the last of the rations

As soon as we entered Serbia the scenery changed dramatically. The road was carved into a gorge bordered by steep craggy hills, swathed in an autumnal forest and a beautiful river surged beneath. It was spectacular and made for another glorious day’s driving. With Simon and Garfunkle playing ‘Homeward Bound’ we were positively buoyant!

Before reaching Nis, birthplace of Constantine the Great (who’d have thought the Roman Emperor would have been born in Serbia?! They got around those Greeks – as Serbia was then part of Greece – I had to double check as I was getting my Greeks and Romans confused), we made a roadside stop for a picnic in the glorious sunshine – ‘making hay’ while we could as the forecast for the next few days was looking a bit grim. Rifling through our remaining Army rations (still neither of us had plumped for the beef and cassava – at this point I think I should add (as I don’t think I have before) they are all a little out of date and I presume would have been ready for the bin had they not been donated to us.) My chosen tuna and bean pasta was still just about edible, Murray telling me dates were simply advisory! I have so far survived unaffected to write on.

I’d been in touch with the lovely Danilo, one of the very long standing and loyal bar staff at Gordon’s Wine Bar, who originates from Belgrade. He had given us some restaurant recommendations and on the strength of that I had booked our night’s pit stop on the south side of the Danube in Zemun, New Belgrade. The hotel Zlatnik was nestled in a residential area on the right side of town for a quick get away the next day. It was perfect. We arrived in the middle of a Serbian christening, what a lively affair that was! Lots of singing, smoking and joviality! Everyone one we met was utterly charming, spoke great English giving us a wonderful introduction to Serbia, but shamefully all too brief. We crashed out for the afternoon and only headed out later in the evening to a local traditional Serbian restaurant that Danilo had recommended and where we had hoped to see chickens running around the restaurant – impossible to pronounce but well known by the locals: Stara Srpska Kuca. The chicks did not materialise but we had a thoroughly good supper, were very well looked after and were satisfied with the cat lounging in a fur lined cardboard box as representative of the hoped for menagerie! Perhaps the cat had something to do with the lack of chickens?

The bar at the traditional Stara Srpska Kuca restaurant, where every version of local ‘brandy’ was on offer. It would have been churlish not to have tried at least one!

The Rila Monastery

Today we left behind the land of minarets. Having heard horror stories of the time it could take to get through the Turkey-Bulgaria crossing at Edirne, some saying allow 4 hours others 12, we set off at 4 a.m. We wanted to escape the appalling Instabul traffic before it had a chance to build and beat the lorries and cars that would inevitably stack up as the day got going.

We were packed and ready to leave at 0400 hours, armed with instructions from the charming and effusively helpful security staff in the access lodge to the Consulate, plus the most invaluable advice from our sagacious friend Dinshaw, who had travelled the same route a month previously with his wife Dinaz. What I hadn’t bargained on was the continued effect of a little something a Pakistani pharmacist had issued to help relieve muscular spasms and nagging sciatica. I popped one of these at 10 p.m. having been advised it would work for about 6 hours – perfect. I think its half-life might have been a little longer. Navigating out of Istanbul fighting a deep drowse (I felt like Gloria from the film Lock Stock and Two Smoking Barrels) wasn’t the best moment of the trip but we just about managed. Added to my less than sparky repartee was a dense fog (not just in my head) and a touch of uncertainty that my navigating might not be up to the job. However, we did get on the right road and couple of hours later we arrived at Edirne and crossed into Bulgaria within half an hour. Result!! We had both perked up, the sun rose and we got to Plovdiv for a full English breakfast. Simply heaven.

Very glad not to be in this border queue – Brexiteers take note, our ports will become like this in time!

Autumnal colours

A regular sighting on the rural roads

In Plovdiv, on to page 4 of the drive plan!

After some discussion and much consulting of the maps and Maps.me we decided we would avoid Sofia on this day and head to the village of Rila and then on to the Rila Monastery, a place my parents in law had visited some 20 years or so ago. My father in law had vigorously recommended we visit and so it had to be done! We traversed the countryside and made our way through the dormant ski resort of Borovets, imagining British school children populating the winter slopes, and eventually got round the mountain to climb the other side through the most amazing forest in full autumnal colour. It was a spectacular drive and one we were very glad to have undertaken.

The monastery was equally stunning in colour and form. Both Murray and I couldn’t help but notice the similarities between the Christian monasteries and the Islamic madrassas – we’d seen plenty of the latter on our travels. It may seem that we have centred our travels around religious sites but in reality much of note, historically and architecturally, has a religious foundation.

Background to the history of Christianity in Bulgaria and the foundation of Rila – the thought of living 12 winters in a cave on the mountain, as the first monk had, was quite something.

Somehow the chaotic colours of the frescos against the zebra striped render of the monastic cells worked!

Stunning frescoes which had been sympathetically preserved

Taking 5 outside the monastery . . . and because M thought I should feature in this post as my colours match the scenery!

Day 37 – Weather: 23ºC and gloriously sunny and little hazey

A much needed day off driving. We ‘did’ Instanbul in a day. The British Consulate is really well situated within walking distance of many of the city’s sights. Taking in the Galata Tower and seeing the great panoramic views up and down the Bosphoros we then headed across the river to Sultanahmet, passing the fishermen on the bridge and the floating ‘mackerel bun’ restaurant boats – not something Murray wanted to repeat after our last trip some 5 years ago! By a turn of good fortune we ventured into the Spice Bazaar (Alladin’s purportedly has the best Turkish delight) and on up the hill to peruse the enormous Grand Bazaar – a wonderful manifestation of the culmination of all things found along the Silk Road. What a great way to end this section of our trip – a few little purchases were made! (My girls look away now!!)

The Galata Tower

Interesting monument to the friendship between the Republic of Korean and Turkey

Fishermen setting up for the day

Inspection time

How fab is this vessel?! It’s an aquatic ‘Noo-noo’ (for those who suffered the Telly Tubbies in yeas gone by – it was Zara’s favourite thing!

The mackerel sandwich boats on Eminonu Pier

Fabulous things inside the bazaars

Inside the Grand Bazaar

The Blue Mosque

Observing the dress code

The day culminated in hooking up with the Beatties for a celebratory drink in the British Consulate before they headed off for a fund raising ball. The Ambassador’s wife, has founded and been instrumental in setting up a Turkish branch of the Guide Dogs Association – a wonderful thing.

All thanks to the Beatties for making possible our very comfortable and restorative stay in Istanbul