My first impression of Istanbul is that no one in this country can identify their luggage at the airport. We flew from Izmir to Ishtanbul with about 300 other people; however, there seemed to be 2,000 standing around the baggage carousel. I think every flyer had at least five other family members there with them handling each piece, inspecting it carefully and discussing whether it might be theirs. It took forever. Leslie even saw one man pick a bag off the carousel, open it and brouse the contents- before placing it back on the belt to continue it's travels. Ours were practically the last bags off.

By the time we left the airport, it was dark. I had planned to take the metro to Sultanahmet and walk to the hotel from there. The hotel was supposed to be across the street from the Blue Mosque and should be easy to find. I thought it would be fun and adventurous. Leslie insisted that we take a taxi, which turned out to be the right plan because the taxi driver got lost and could not find the hotel. Here is a basic driving rule in Turkey that I learned from the taxi driver: it is ok to go the wrong way on a one way street as long as you are backing up.

At one point he was so frustrated that he stopped, opened the trunk and was about to put us out on the sidewalk where we were. The only thing he could say in English that I could understand is "problem, problem". Thankfully, a Turkish man who was watching the scene interceded on our behalf and admonished the driver to continue on. God bless that man because where we were at that point and where we ended up close to the hotel (finally, in the taxi) would have required the undaunted courage and perseverance of Lewis and Clark. You see, the Blue Mosque appears to be size of the Biltmore House and several square miles of Istanbul is across the street from it. 

So, we got to the hotel, and they had given our room away. The hotelier admitted that he had made a mistake and graciously provided alternate accommodations in the attic suite at the Mystic Hotel, just a kilometer away, down a series of dank alleyways. We could return to his hotel in the morning as planned he assured us. 

I am writing to you from the Mystic. I hope you are enjoying your soft bed(these are newly paved) and your rooms where you can stand up straight without hitting your head. I will be fine. I am in Ishtanbul, clearly the most exotic city I have ever visited.