An Alarming Istanbul Adventure

Cigarettes, and those who manufactured them, were losing favour in western countries by the year 1990 so fag manufacturer Philip Morris International decided to spread the good news of Marlborough further afield.  They organised the Philip Morris Super Band featuring Ray Charles and BB King.  The band would tour Japan, South Korea, The Philippines, Taipei, Australia and Turkey, returning to the US through Europe.

My husband, Sid, was on this tour as a sound engineer and my pal Jane and I, both teachers, decided to fly out to Istanbul to meet up with him when the itinerary conveniently reached Istanbul at half term.  We had the use of a friend’s flat and then would move into the Hilton for the nights the band were in town.

Ray Charles and BB King

Istanbul is one of the most beautiful and exciting cities in the world and Jane and I had a great time sightseeing before moving into the Hilton on the morning of the band’s arrival.  They had plenty to do with unloading and rehearsals so we went off to potter around the markets.  By the late afternoon we looked around for a taxi.  We thought there might be a taxi rank somewhere so we asked a young man who was selling hot chestnuts from a barrow.  He was full of enthusiasm but his English wasn’t good.  He asked a child who was helping him to mind the barrow and gesticulated that we should follow him.  And so we did.

Off through the crowds we scurried after him.  It was quite difficult for me to keep up as I was carrying a massive wooden lampshade I’d bought in the bazaar.  The streets became narrower and, before we really realised, we found we were in a residential area with tiny houses and winding streets. 

A Different Istanbul Chestnut Barrow

We started to say,

‘Look, there aren’t any taxis here.  Never mind, we’ll go back.’ But the boy (as he was still barely out of his teens) kept insisting and shortly pointed at a small corner shop, ushering us inside. There was a discussion between him and the shopkeeper and we could hear the word ‘taxi’ but the shopkeeper didn’t seem much help.  A small group of youths had now gathered.

‘Right, we’re going’, we said, ‘Thank you for your help but we’ll be fine now.’ And Jane and I marched purposefully out of the shop and down the nearest little street, pursued now by an interested group.

Istanbul Back Street

They were circling around us as we walked.  The faster we went, the faster they did.  The original lad was sounding a bit aggressive and we were desperately scouring every side street to look for signs of a main road or a lit up area as it was by now quite dark.  One or two of our pursuers started to touch us as if to guide us in another direction.  The whole atmosphere felt really threatening.

Shortly, on one side of the street was a big car park, just below street level.  At the other side was a busy road. 

‘Right’, I said to Jane.  We were able to speak  without the boys understanding if we spoke quickly and quite low. ‘When we get to this car park entrance, I'll say 'Now'  and we can go hell for leather through to that road.'

So, just like in a film, we suddenly leapt down the few steps and dodged between parked cars, racing towards the lights and our escape.  It felt like the whole group was in hot pursuit but, in hindsight, it’s obviously impossible that two forty year old women, one wielding a huge lampshade, could actually outrun a bunch of Turkish teenagers.  I imagine they lost their bottle but the original chestnut seller stayed with us.

Gasping by the road (thanks, Marlborough) we saw a taxi almost immediately and waved and shouted it over.  As we leapt into the back, Mr Chestnut stall jumped in the front and started issuing instructions in Turkish.  We were shouting him down.  ‘Get him out!  Take us to the Hilton!  Get him out!’

The taxi driver didn’t speak English but got the gist and dispensed with our unwanted passenger after a short distance.  Phew.

Istanbul Hilton

We arrived at the safety of the Hilton both shaking from head to toe and hardly able to speak.  Eventually, assisted by several gin and tonics, we recounted the tale to Sid and were eventually calm enough to get a good night’s sleep.

The crew and band, minus the two stars, were to have a guided tour the following day of the Topkapi Palace, the stunning headquarters of the Ottoman Sultans and their many wives, concubines, guards and flunkeys. The President of Turkey was a big fan of BB King and Ray Charles and would be attending the performance that night.  He had sent his personal interpreter, Doruk, to escort us around the Palace and to tell us something of Istanbul’s history.  Here we are, pictured below.

It was a good atmosphere.  Doruk seemed a jolly chap, knowledgeable and friendly and the band, a bunch of veteran American jazz musicians, were brilliant company.  When we all stopped for a break, Sid said to Jane and I,

‘Tell Doruk what happened yesterday.’  
We weren’t keen but, when pushed, we repeated the story of the chestnut seller to Doruk and the assorted audience.

‘Would you know the stall again?’  asked Doruk.

‘Yes, |I expect so,’ 
I’d been to Istanbul a couple of times and was fairly familiar with the main areas.

He became furious.  He said tourists should be treated with respect and it was terrible for Turkey’s name if things like that happened.  The president would be appalled to hear of this. Doruk would make sure this person was shot and taught a lesson.  We would look for the stall tomorrow.

Jane and I were horrified and all the others looked pretty shocked.  
‘No, no.  It was nothing. We’re fine now. Ha, ha. It wasn’t that bad.  Really, we wouldn’t want anything like that to happen.  Nobody hurt us.’ We backtracked like mad.

‘It is OK, it is OK, said Durak reassuringly, ‘We only shoot the knees. We wouldn’t kill him.  Where was this stall?’

‘It was near the ferry wasn’t it?’, 

‘No, that was another stall, it was near the Spice Market.’

‘You’ve got that wrong, I distinctly remember our coming over the bridge.’

‘No, that was before.  After we’d been to that café. It was on a big junction.’
'It was quite a small street, that's why we couldn't find a taxi.'
'I thought I remembered a lot of traffic........'

Part of the Topkapi Palace  

And so Jane and I proceeded to sow utter confusion as to the whereabouts of the rogue chestnut barrow thus sparing the knees of its ‘helpful’ proprietor.  And, by the way, the Topkapi Palace was marvellous.


Notes
2 Istanbul pictures by Tricia Taylor
Further information on the Philip Morris tour  http://raycharlesvideomuseum.blogspot.com/2011/08/ray-bbs-superband-tour-1990.html