Of Myths and Muezzins

We sleep on the very edge of the continent. Across the grey Bosphorous, through air thick with rain and a thousand muezzin calls, lies Asia. Asia, where the Silk Road awaits us. But wait! I haven't yet bored you at length on  the subject of Greece. So, dear reader, here goes.. In Athens, it was easy to see the effects of their economic problems. We were staying in the worst area we've ever stayed anywhere. It was like a dystopian film set, filthy streets of graffiti, over-flowing bins and lurking hoods. Riot buses full of armoured police roamed the area, rounding up groups of men to check their documents. Desperate looking folk from Pakistan, Nigeria, China smoked and waited, illegal immigrants who had entered Europe via Turkey and were now stuck, on the edge of an imagined European utopia. Watching Greece disintegrate before them. But it wasn't all sorrow and grime. There are plenty of areas of that  vast city that thrive with markets and bohemian trendiness. Perhaps it was this mix of poverty and pretension that made us feel so at home, made us think of dear old Hackney. Though it didn't feel quite so much like east London when  we were sat, in the dawning sun, before the mighty Parthenon. As it is off-season, there were no crowds at all on the Acropolis. We sat in peace, listening to the waking city and watching the ancient stone turn golden. It was quite unforgettable. From Athens, we took the midnight train to Thessaloniki. 'I bet they'll be seats instead of beds and mobile phones going off and a small child screaming' said Nic with her characteristic optimism. Unfortunately, the only thing that she hadn't prophesied correctly was the fact that they would leave the lights on all night and would wait until you were just dropping off before making an ear-splitting announcements.  So, despite a fog of exhaustion and the grey drizzle that rolled off the sea, we had a great day in Thessaloniki. Luckily for us, the people there seem to spend much of the day drinking coffee and looking out at the Ottoman buildings, the jumbled tower blocks, the grey white sea. Like most of the towns we've passed through since Bosnia, Thessaloniki was under the shadow of both the Byzantine (formerly the eastern Roman) Empire and the Ottoman empire. But here the Ottoman period is described as the TURKISH OCCUPATION (how could the 'heart of western culture' have ever been 'eastern'?) . The very idea of where west ends and east begins seems to me now a nonsensical construct. The idea that the  Persian hordes were fought off by Greeks and Spartans thereby 'preserving' Western culture is questionable, there are many old mosques, many shisha pipes being smoked far to the west of Greece. Anyway, I digress rather spectacularly and rather tediously. If you are still reading this and you're not my Mum, may I congratulate you on your dedication.  Where was I? Oh yes, Istanbul! Constantinople! (apologies if you now gave that song in your head for the rest of the day) Byzantium! It'll just have to wait for next time, there are fish sandwiches to eat and Blue Mosques to gaze at dreamily...