Domestique - it was like that, except the fourteen lanes were occasionally fifteen, sixteen, seventeen or some other number determined mainly by the width of the vehicles and the patience of the drivers.
Good and bad news today - good first. When I awoke I had an email from the travel agent, advising that I'd been granted a registration number for an Iranian visa, so I'll complete the application in Erzurum. The travel agent I used was Stan Tours, who responded to my initial e-mail within the hour and have been very good so far. They were also cheaper (at 40 USD) than the UK company with whom I made inquiries - their rate was 120 GBP.
Bad news, though - my parcel of equipment was at Turkish customs, so I had to deal with several layers of administration to get anywhere. I had the staff at the hostel call on my behalf, and even they were getting frustrated at the lack of help.
First, I had to put the parcel number into the Turkish Post Office website - there was an English portal, at least, but subsequent screens were in Turkish. This simply said that the parcel was held at customs - no information about where, or how to claim it.
Onto the phones, then. We eventually got some help from someone at the PO, who confirmed that it was at Topkapu depot, as my man had suspected it would be.
So off I toddled. To get there, the best way was by tram. I forgot to ask anyone how the tram system worked and ended up bothering some random people at the tram stop. They looked at me like I was crazy and said there was a token machine on the other side. So I just need to get a token? I asked, but they were too busy getting on the tram to answer.
It does appear to be that simple - I got a two-lira token as that was all that was available and bunged it into the machine, went through the barrier and onto the tram, and when I got off, I could just walk out without having to show anything. Most people seemed to have swipy cards. it was the same on the way back.
I asked a security guard for directions to the Post Office, and as his mate was headed in that direction, I tagged along with him. We crossed the same road on which I'd entered Istanbul, and it looked no better in daylight than in darkness a week ago. The PO was closed for an hour for dinner between 12.30 and 1.30. I'd read about this, so no big deal. Actually
this blog post was very informative.
After dinner, I went in and was eventually waved to the right area. It was mostly amusing. I went to counter 1 to get the packing slip, then to counter 8 for no apparent reason, then to counter 5, where I was told to wait. They brought out my parcel and opened it and asked me what was inside. Just bike parts, I told them. As my sister had put 100 as the value and this was over the 75-euro limit, I had to pay tax of 52 lira (I did try to convince him that it was 100 USD, but this didn't wash).
But that wasn't the end: I had to go back to counter 1 for the old geezer to write something across the packing slip, to counter 2 to pay, then finally back to counter 5 to get my parcel. Nearly finally: the woman at counter 2 had kept my packing slip. I needed this to collect my parcel from counter 5, and the bloke wouldn't let me have my parcel without it (despite that being my third encounter with him). And the woman at counter 2 was reluctant to let me have even the third copy of the packing slip - being dumb and foreign and a bit loud at this point served me well. I presented my packing slip to counter 5 man, who charged me 2 lira for some reason. I didn't argue, just handed over a 5-lira note. I still didn't argue when he gave me 2.50 lira in change. I and my package were free! It hadn't even taken an hour.
One advantage of travelling by bike is that there is so much less of an administrative burden - you always travel independently, so never have to worry about timetables or deal with recalcitrant train, bus or plane staff. Which means that I could treat today as an amusing interlude, rather than another in a series of frustrating dealings with officials and jobsworths.
And when I got back to the hostel, my bike had company - his n hers Surly LHTs in the yard. Have Woolly and Peli come to visit?
