We woke up at 7am this morning and Jesse felt much better. I made us coffee and, first things first, put Disney Children’s Classics on Pandora and played it through the laptop. Now that the mood was set, it was breakfast time. I issued Jesse with the caveat of eating the dal – it’s amazing, but with a slight tang of burnt. You’re either all in, or all out. Of course, he was all in. And, surprisingly, the dal had matured and turned more flavoursome overnight in the fridge, negating the burnt taste. We also ate the rest of the bread, and I made Jesse eat a banana that he didn’t eat yesterday that is ready to turn. A few times he tried to change the station on Pandora, but I was onto THAT quicker that a fat kid on a cup-cake.

Second. Last. Time.

After a couple of quick stops at internet cafes for printing, we got to the Indian Consulate around 10am. Thankfully, we FINALLY got our visa applications accepted. Whee! All it took was me doing a lap-dance for the old Indian woman behind the counter, and Jesse doing a Derek Zoolander-esque walkoff with the tomato-headed security guard. We should have used our bodies earlier, instead of resorting to all of this printing and and hooking into WiFi business. We were very, very happy. We only need to return one more time now, in five days’ time, to collect our visas.

We popped around the corner to see how the local puddings were faring, and found what appeared to be a whole colony of puddings. The ones I’d fed the previous day were just the tip of the iceberg.

Because of all the walking, I have been ravenously hungry since arriving in Turkey – like, twice as hungry as Jesse. So we headed home, and Jesse cooked a vegetarian lunch (lightly cooked carrots, peppers, aubergine and onion with salt, pepper and lemon juice), which we seasoned with the leftover dal – which, by the way, had gotten even better in the four hours since we left it.

Drinking the rest of that bloody kafir.

After lunch it was washing, packing up and vacating time. We had to be out by 3pm. Shouldering our backpacks, we trekked back the Taksim Square to meet Leyla, our first Couch Surfing host and an Istanbul native. She met us at the local Starbucks, bright and friendly and 30ish, and eager to talk and ask questions.

First things first – we were going to a real café, she said. Jesse and I were both a little doubtful at this point, not knowing where it was and how far we would have to lug our backpacks. It turned out not to be too far, maybe a ten minutes walk down a series of twisting back laneways and alleys.

Us with Leyla at 260 Anarchy

This kitten took a shit under Leyla’s chair.

Trademark squint.

260A

 It was a very cool café, as promised. The ‘A’ stands for Anarchy, and it was very alternative and left-wing. We sat there for maybe two hours, drinking coffee and tea, and discussing politics and other things of interest whilst Leyla chain-smoked. Leyla was no stranger to tear gas (like many people in Istanbul we were beginning to realise). She had protested with many others against the proposed demolition of a garden area around Taksim Square one year ago – and the police used water cannons, tear gas and brute force to disperse the crowds. She had a young child friend who was hit in the back of the head with a tear gas canister and later died. This is the price of democracy in Turkey.

I went to pay, and the waiter told me it was 13TL. I assumed he meant 30TL and started to pull more money out. No, no, Leyla said. This is not Starbucks! It will only cost us 13 TL. I liked.

The trip home was long with backpacks weighing 20 and 25 kilos respectively. We walked, took a train, three buses, and walked some more. I noticed that the longer I carry the backpack though, the easier it becomes. We arrived at Leyla’s place around 9:30pm after stopping at the local supermarket for food. Her home is a lovely apartment which her parents (currently travelling) own in the suburb of Pendik. After a quick tour, she and Jesse went to culinary town whilst I blogged (I know, very helpful). The end result was that there was enough food to feed a small village: pasta, vegetable sauce, salad, fresh bread and home-made yogurt. We sat around the small table in the kitchen and ate. A lot. Very quickly. After walking and transitioning for so long with our backpacks, we were very hungry. And tired. We started dinner at about 11pm.

Leyla was excited to have us as guests, and we were keen to get a closer look-in at Turkish culture. There was a steady flow of conversation about many things. After dinner, I offered to wash up and Leyla said no. This made me uncomfortable, as I had not contributed to dinner in any way, other than blogging, chatting and picking at the food that was being chopped. So, not at all. I think from memory I was the first to sit down and start eating also.

Helping.

Me documenting the helping.

I explained to her that it is an Australian custom for those who do not help prepare the food to do the dishes afterwards. She seemed OK with that. After dinner she made tea, and we sat out on small balcony off the kitchen. We drank tea, Leyla chain-smoked, and we discussed all manner of things. At roughly 1pm I said I was very tired and needed to go to bed. I felt very old, but my brain had literally been aboard the sleepy-town express for the last two hours.

Our fold-out bed was situated in Leyla’s parents formal and spacious dining /lounge room. Despite the loud sounds of building and machinery two streets away, we were both asleep in roughly 30 seconds.