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      "body": "Congratulations @elenitta! You received a personal award!\n\n<table><tr><td>https://steemitimages.com/70x70/http://steemitboard.com/@elenitta/birthday2.png</td><td>Happy Birthday! - You are on the Steem blockchain for 2 years!</td></tr></table>\n\n<sub>_You can view [your badges on your Steem Board](https://steemitboard.com/@elenitta) and compare to others on the [Steem Ranking](https://steemitboard.com/ranking/index.php?name=elenitta)_</sub>\n\n\n###### [Vote for @Steemitboard as a witness](https://v2.steemconnect.com/sign/account-witness-vote?witness=steemitboard&approve=1) to get one more award and increased upvotes!",
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      "title": "Stanzibar. (Trip to Kilimanjaro)",
      "body": "<html>\n<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;<em>Transit Istanbul</em>&nbsp;</p>\nhttps://img.esteem.ws/eh10vqh2nt.jpg\n<p>As I supposed, I did not get a chance to leave work in time. It was also the Friday evening which naturally was not going to treat me well trafficwise. Therefore, when I came home, I began nervously and hurriedly fastening the underpacked backpacks. I shoved inside everything left scattered over the room in a one and a half meters radius, and hurried after my friend, who had come to see off an old friend to the boonies. &nbsp;There were several options of getting to Kilimanjaro. As there were no direct flights, it was possible to travel via Amsterdam, Zurich, Doha or Istanbul. The first two carriers - <em>Swiss air</em> and <em>KLM</em> - inspired more confidence. Doha at that time did not appeal to me, but the prospect of a transit day in the capital of Byzantium with the help of <em>Turkish Airlines</em> looked extremely attractive. Thus, I chose an affordable 25 thousand rubles ticket with an overnight stay in Istanbul and a flight to the final destination at 6.00 pm another day. Therefore, the whole day was to be spent in an interesting city, whose visions tempted my consciousness from early youth. &nbsp;I managed to get to the airport without particular problems, but time for long seeing-off with tears and lamentations ran short. Hastily shaking hands, my friends left me at the border of the customs zone. As usual, there was a performance of shaking up backpacks at the security check and weighing the luggage at the check-in. Troubles with luggage are eternal. Well, I cannot fit into the permissible norms. Hence today, at home my luggage weighed 50 kilos! Well, I count 32 kg for the checked luggage, 8 — for the hand luggage. Where to put 10 more kilos? I divided the backpack into two parts. I unfastened a small assault backpack from the main one and stuffed it with the heaviest lenses, pressing them down with a steadicam. I put it in a plastic bag, which gave it the appearance of no more than a one and a half kilogram fold. Then it remained to disguise the backpack for the required size — no more than 55 cm. I tightened to the limit all the dangling straps-suspenders and got 60 cm — almost the desired result. However, the conversation with the girl, who lazily sat behind the counter with the Turkish Airlines sign, began not in a kind way. She did not even bother to smile in response to my broad greeting. ­— Put your suitcase on the luggage belt, — she told me. 33 kilograms. «It is impossible, — I thought to myself, — it was only 29 kilos at home!» — And a backpack, please. — But this is hand baggage. My equipment is there. — Anyway, put it on the scales. The indicator panel showed 48 kilos. It meant that in the backpack, which I was going to drag into the cabin, there was 15 kilos instead of the permissible 8! Plus this ten-kilogram backpack disguised as a package was about to catch the eye of the guardian of standard grams. Without changing my facial expression, I slowly began pushing it with my foot to the side, under the counter, away from her eyes, simultaneously calculating the total weight of my luggage and the possible financial losses associated with paying for exceeding the permissible weight. But the experience took its toll. We parted with, as it seemed initially, a strict lady when she issued me a boarding pass. We shared warm smiles with each other and wishes of good luck. My nearly 60-kilogram gear went with me aboard the liner of Turkish Airlines. With an effort, I shoved the backpack on the shelf of hand luggage, took practically the space for the whole row, finally sat down in an armchair and plunged into nirvana, leafing through the pages of the old dream page called «Africa». However, this was preceded by a whole day of transit in Istanbul and, placing the «book of Africa»<br>\non the shelf of memory, I opened the standing beside «Byzantium» book, plunging into scattered pages of memories, laid somewhere between brain convolutions in the course of my whole life. To tell you the truth, it was not possible to catch a lot, which, undoubtedly, encouraged the schedule to be tightened in order to more fully inspect the Turkish capital. The flight turned out to be short, about three hours, but a little dull. Probably, the upcoming expectation of such a welcome vacation with the anticipation of visiting new far places brought me to a state of internal excitement and impatience. In addition, it was not possible to completely abandon the surrounding space of a rather spacious salon. A helpful brigade of flight attendants every now and then offered all sorts of snacks and drinks throughout the flight, right up to the very announcement of the landing. In addition, they also offered a good dinner. The only thing that caused some dissonance in a series of positive perception of the airline was a harsh landing. The liner, in spite of the usual landing approach along the tangent to the runway, almost vertically ducked down from the height of about five meters. Once it heavily smacked on the landing gear, it sank all the way in on the struts of shock absorbers. Then somehow slowly, it straightened its «knees», shook himself and finally roared with the reverse of both engines, struggled to slow down, intensively rocking the contents of the luggage and passenger cabins. Some prayed praying with the cross, others read Surah, and some individuals poured the contents of their stomachs into special packets. The most optimistic applauded, and those passengers that were pretty much treated with alcohol drinks of hospitable Turks snored and did not notice anything at all, with their heads leaned to the chair headrest.</p>\n<p>&nbsp;* * * &nbsp;</p>\n<p>«Atatürk» closes the twenty largest airports in the world. You understand this right away when you step off the airstairs. It took us at least 10 minutes on the bus to get from the plane to the entrance to the terminal building, and the driver followed a strict striping along the lanes, famously passing the oncoming traffic. We stopped at intersections waiting for a green traffic light signal and even getting stuck in real traffic jams. The building of the airport was huge; however, it did not look bulky and was quite understandable by its structure. We walked along the moving walkways to the border crossing, where, without torturing himself and other people, a smiling friendly border guard rubber-stamped the entry visas in the passports of white and black, broad and narrow-eyed citizens of different continents. Natasha had flown out two days before me, and so, in order to avoid problems when registering, I went to the airline's office in order to make a note that the ticket for my daughter was paid from my credit card on a voluntary basis. The procedure took several minutes, but saved unnecessary worries during transit. And then there was more! It was in the office that the pretty girl who answered in the Northern capital for the whole Turkish fleet told me that transit passengers with a transfer for more than twenty hours could be checked in a hotel at the expense of the company and explained in detail where on the airport territory I should find this additional bonus from Turkish Airlines. &nbsp;And now, with my stamped passport and a ticket with a boarding pass, I moved towards the office of my already almost native airline. I submitted documents to a man at the counter with a recognizable logo; he offered to wait a little, while the transit passengers from other flights would gather. I sat down at the coffee table and began clicking the keys of the laptop, hoping to find the signal from my friends, who had already been breathing the wild wind of Africa for almost a day. At this time, the company employee began to shout out some names, and the passengers began to get up from their seats to meet him. Then I, though not without difficulty, sorted my name out the sounds issued by the Turk. He gathered seven of us and offered to follow him to the bus. My companions, who had flown two days earlier along the same route, reported that the Turks greeted them very cordially, placing them in the Radisson Hotel with all the extremely pleasant little things that followed. For example, the pool before breakfast, eh? A good «hostel»-service, isn’t it? Unfortunately, I did not properly listen to the instructions of my friends and did not put the bathing suit in my hand luggage, but sent it in the luggage straight to Tanzania. Nevertheless, I was not only internally ready to rest at a hotel of this level, but I was hungry for it. And now, following the representative of the airline, not without satisfaction, I saw the transport with a sign of the desired hotel and, advancing the escort, rushed to the door. — Sir, — he said, — it is the wrong way. Come here, — he pointed to the nearby bus with the inscription of the hotel that did not speak to me. &nbsp;«Therefore, my companions were simply lucky with «Radisson», and I will get to an ordinary Turkish hostel». However, considering that I had bought the cheapest airplane ticket to Africa, and tomorrow, for the whole day, I would have a unique opportunity to see the sights of Istanbul, I was ready to endure hardships in the shabbiest hotel, especially at someone else's expense. «How far is it from the airport?» — I asked the attendant with a note of slight disappointment. «Very near, five minutes», — replied the smiling mustachioed youngster. And really, no more than ten minutes later the bus turned into a pocket and stopped at the entrance to the high-rise building, on whose peak the name of the «Istanbul GONEN» was revealed on the transit shelter of the Turkish Airlines passengers. A good «hostel». Earlier I had seen hotels under the brand «Radisson», there was something to compare, but it was not required at all. My refuge for the next day, by all appearances, possessed everything necessary for such travelers as me. The only thing that bothered me was the lack of single rooms. According to the old habit, I thought that they would check me in with a snorer, and the night might not seem so sweet as one would like. Looking at my fellow travelers, I estimated the potential of everyone and decided that a couple of talkative Indians were perhaps the most undesirable neighbors, as they would hardly stop their conversation until morning in an effort to share fresh impressions of their stay in the new country. According to the Murphy's Law, for sure they will be placed with me! As an international team, we followed the escort to the hotel to the reception desk. The administrator seated everyone on the sofas and began shouting out the names one by one, inviting one after another to register and place. Then it was my turn. The receptionist asked me for a deposit of fifty dollars for a minibar. Having received the banknote, he put it in an envelope on which he wrote the room number and, holding out to me the key card, explained how to get there. Having specified the time of breakfast, I thanked him and went in search of my lair. The interior of the hotel left no doubt that, if it was not «Radisson», then in any case, not a hostel either. Yes, and the cost of the room at 120 euros per day also meant something. Once I found the door with the right number, only with the third attempt I managed to cope with the lock. Two backpacks in one hand and a heavy bag with photographic accessories, disguised as a plastic bag, in another greatly complicated the procedure of opening the lock with a magnetic card. Finally, the lock clicked, the door leaned forward, and the fierce spirit of the musty room, enveloped in dense darkness, struck my nostrils. Trying to find a switch, I let go of the door, and it began to shut under the action of the door closer. At the last moment, I put my foot in the opening, thereby not allowing myself to be locked in a stifling, stuffy darkness. Attempts to find the switch did not lead to anything. Carefully lowering the luggage onto the floor, I opened the door wide, letting in a faint gleam of corridor light and fresh air. The room was so big that due to lack of lighting I did not see the opposite wall. Somewhere in the middle of the room, there was a huge double or triple bed, I really did not know. Ruffled sheets and blankets mixed with pillows. Or people? — Excuse me, is anybody in there? Silence. Stuffiness. Darkness. &nbsp;— Hey, who is in here? «Horrifying. Maybe there is someone asleep? And maybe not even asleep but passed to eternal rest?». I stepped back to the door while groping for the backpacks on the floor. «Nope, I don’t want such neighbors. Even at someone else’s expense!». I picked up all my belongings and broke into the door, went straight to the receptionist. — Excuse me, but that room is occupied. Provide me with another one. — How do you know? There is nobody in there. — I assure you, there is someone. The receptionist looked at the screen of the monitor, shrugged his shoulders, flicked his mouse and, calling to the assistant, handed him the key. — Lead the sir. The guy smiled, took my big backpack and gestured me to follow him. &nbsp;— Well, come on, you'll see, — I muttered to myself. However, when we came out of the elevator, we turned in the opposite direction and stopped at the door with another number. The assistant opened the door, skillfully put the key in the cell on the wall, which made the room immediately illuminate with a dim background light. &nbsp;— Here, please, do you like it? TV, minibar? — Is everything included then? — No. Minibar is paid, but here is a bottle of water, it is free! — Then I’ll have some water, thank you, friend, — I said with relief that my troubles had ended and I did not even have to figure out whether my potential neighbor would survive or die surrounded by loving lodgers. And yet I could not resist asking, — What's the problem with the previous room? — Oh, sorry, the maid did not have time to clean it after the departure of some Russian celebrity. He seems to have become famous after the cover of the hit of our Tarkan. He was curly-haired, effeminate. Well, you understand me? Glory be to Allah, today his whole noisy company has left. — Are you sure that everyone left; maybe they forgot anybody in a hurry? — No, no, I assure you. I checked. Yes, indeed, there is a big mess, but the room is empty. I'm sorry, but we did not have time to prepare it for your arrival, I'm very sorry, — and, guiltily looking down, the guy disappeared behind the door. The level of the hotel, as I managed to notice, was very decent: half a dozen towels, slippers, a bathrobe and other accessories of the toilet room, and the room itself in a modern style. When I was left alone, I threw off my clothes and went to the shower, where, under different jets, I took off the fatigue and mud that had accumulated during the day. &nbsp;«A rest, finally!» — I gave myself an order, falling on the bed. However, the sense of duty overcame the desire to forget everything until the morning. It was necessary to prepare for tomorrow's walk around the city: to decide which equipment is better to take, recharge the batteries, check the camera settings. Moreover, it was required to contact relatives, so those who stayed at home should receive good messages from the route, and ask others, who were ahead of me for two days, questions that they already had answers for sure. In particular, I was very interested in the signs that I should recognize in Justin at the Kilimanjaro airport. It should be noted that I received an exhaustive answer, without commenting: «You will recognize him immediately!» Having finished the negotiations, I laid down on the pillow, reflecting on the events of the outgoing day. Something kept me in suspense. In general, everything went by as it should: they did not detain the flight, and the airplane was decent. Again, the Turks accommodated me, the hotel was beautiful. Well, what more do you need? The dream gradually began to dissolve thoughts, when suddenly: «Stop! But what about the number that I was originally checked in? The maid did not have time to clean? No way. This number would not get a settlement option without a mark of readiness, it's a safe bet. Or maybe I overestimate the quality of local service? Yes, I'm breaking my head here, and won’t be able to fall asleep until the morning because of the stupid thoughts. And what if the guy lied, what if he did not check the number? Very strange and alarming images appeared through the darkness of a sultry habitat. No, I will not calm down». I rose from my bed, tied my robe tighter, and looked around to find something suitable for the night raid in the rear of the enemy. In conditions of abroad, for lack of either gunshot or stabbing weapons, the tripod can be very useful. I slightly opened the door, in the opening a soft blue light shone the corridor leading to the opposite wing of the building. Silence gave a ringing in my ears. No sound, no squeak or anything reminiscent of life in these walls. Strange somehow. Steps drowned in the high, soft pile of Turkish tracks, also without making the slightest noise. Insulation in the building must be at the highest level. Looking around, I got to the place without meeting anyone. As I was about to knock, I noticed that the door was not closed tightly and, with a slight pressure on it, I felt it [ЯБ1] move forward a little, as if inviting me inside. A stench of tobacco smoke, stale alcohol, human flesh, sweats, and perhaps blood saturated the entire inner space. The eyes were not immediately accustomed to the dark, and for a while I stood as if blind. But I felt I was not alone. — Hey? — Well, why are you making noise? Come in. — Can I turn on the light? — And why the light, I can already see, and you just do not need to see everything. You'll learn less, maybe for the good. Just kidding. Throw your stuff in the closet and settle down. Are you getting up early in the morning? I nodded silently. «Then», — continued the weakly visible silhouette, «Take the place to the far left. Besides us, there are a couple of love-birds hiding there. You will sleep right next to them. Do not be afraid, they won’t touch you. They have a honeymoon now, and so there is no business for the rest. But if the Scandinavian trio does not leave today, then the night is still tough. Anyone should be aware of this gang. These scoundrels feed exclusively on group sadism. It's not safe, you know. Why, I have a lot of experience in this, but I had never been slapped so hard, usually it was me who did the slapping. In the morning this cattle left and did not take handcuffs off me. My hands are completely numb, and the linen had dried up to the wounds, and it would not hurt to get to the toilet. Unfasten it, buddy», — the voice asked from the darkness. I listened strenuously to such a recognizable intonation. It was impossible to believe in this. Perhaps it was a coincidence? Well, there are twins in appearance. Sometimes it is impossible to tell by the voices of people. However, it was this voice from the television and radio channels that disgusted all ears that all doubts melted in an instant. — Friend, unfasten me, eh? — he repeated ingratiatingly. — Yes, yes, just a moment — I muttered, and, turning around, almost knocked the door in the opposite direction, leaving the settlement of perverts. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;I rushed through the labyrinth of corridors to my room and, probably, darted past my turn. I wanted to return, but I heard rapidly approaching voices and noise that left no doubt I was followed. I did not want to push my luck and turned to the stairs, ran several spans and shot out to another floor, almost losing my slippers. Once I got to the next staircase, I returned to my floor. I located the right direction and found myself in my room in a moment. Bursting inside, I slammed the door shut and fell to the bed with heavy panting, exhausted by the pursuit. The morning approached a huge metropolis with all its permanent and temporary inhabitants. The sky, completely shrouded in a gray veil, gave birth to a soft, sunless dawn, barely able to penetrate the curtains of the wide, full-length window. And yet, gradually displacing the remnants of the night from the room, a stream of light made its way to the most remote places and filled the space. In the end, soft rays touched my eyelids and, seeping between them, awakened me from a restless sleep. Anything can be imagined in the ancient city of crazy dreams. I did not want to waste time thinking while looking at the ceiling. I had quite extensive plans for today, so after hasty morning procedures, I hurried to the catering facilities. Although nothing surprising was offered for breakfast, still the food was of excellent quality with an emphasis on local cuisine. I filled the stomach to the brim with various dishes but did not fail to get a cup of good coffee at last, admiring the view of the turquoise smoothness of the pool, which was located in a small courtyard, directly behind the shop windows. I packed the equipment necessary for today in an assault backpack and tossed the rest into a large one. After completing the preparations, I glanced around the room, making sure that I had not forgotten anything. Then I put all the belongings on my back and took them to the storage room. Then, on the way to the exit, I looked at the registration desk to ask how I could get to the center of old Istanbul faster. The administrator explained in detail, making notes on the map and drawing the route of the city transport to the place of interest. First I should take a taxi; the drive is about seven to eight minutes to the metro. Next, it is about fifteen minutes to pass the so-called ground subway (on my way the train never went down under the ground), and then change to a tram. After that, in half an hour, I will be in the heart of Istanbul at the Blue Mosque. —Can I buy tickets for the subway and tram directly inside a carriage or in special places? — You can buy them at any stop before a carriage entrance. And here, — he bent down, rummaged on the shelf and handed me a card, — please, take this card for two trips to the subway and tram. — Thank you, how much do I owe you? — You don’t owe me anything. This is a student's travel card, it's free. I study at university, I have more. — Oh, really! Well, I'm very grateful. As they say, if you come to Kolyma, you are always welcome to visit us! — Is Kolyma in Moscow? — Not really. But it is in Russia. Thank you once again, see you. Right at the entrance to the hotel was a taxi. I asked the driver if he would take me for a dozen lire (exactly half of the Turkish money that I traded at the airport for pocket expenses). &nbsp;— You crazy, friend? Twenty five! — Well, for twenty five I'll get to the Blue Mosque without any transits. — Well, OK, — he agreed, — get inside; I drive Mosque for fifty. — So we agreed on eight and to the subway. Good? — Eightee? &nbsp;— Yep, euros. And twenty as a tip. Deal? —??? — he processed that. A second later he jumped out from the car, rummaged around the hood and opened the door of his shabby vehicle in front of me. — Deal! I looked at him and couldn’t find anything to say. &nbsp;— I’m joking, — I couldn’t bare it anymore, – I won’t pay you more than twelve lire, no matter what. Your compatriots have already revealed to me a terrible secret about the cost of the trip. So if you do not want to cooperate — good luck to you. — I turned away and took a step in the direction of the approaching car. — Maybe fifteen? — almost a pled. — Have a nice day. — Okay, okay, deal, — he muttered as he took my backpack. And yet, in the end, he tricked me into these ill-fated three lire, promising that he would take me to another station. Supposedly, it was much closer and more convenient than the one I wanted to go initially. Thus, he took his fifteen. Well, I, respectively, gave slack. Well, as they say, «I did not catch up but at least I warmed up». After a while, already sitting in the car, I was surprised to find that the driver did not know a word of English. I, accordingly, didn’t know any Turkish. Although Istanbul can be probably one of the cities most visited by Russians due to the specifics of the shuttle business in the times of changing of the next economic formation in our Fatherland, I was here for the first time and, frankly, I was eagerly awaiting this event. Under the driver's chirp and the completely incomprehensible sounds of his companions, continually bursting from the speakers of the intercom, I kept turning my head from side to side, peering curiously at people, houses, cars, and penetrated the atmosphere of a city I had never known before. I liked it. I even thought about a certain similarity between our countries. It is believed that Russia is a bridge between the western and eastern civilizations. If a certain balance is violated: in a particular place, at a certain time, there is more or less of something Western or Eastern, then there are contradictions that have an influence on the character of the development of our society. And our misfortunes (especially the roads) come from this notorious duality, be it wrong! However, in my opinion, the Turks, who have internal problems no less than ours, do not fail to develop. They have their problems as well: the Kurdish question, serious confrontations between supporters of secular development of the state with a vector to the west, to Europe, and in contrast to this a considerable number of adherents of various directions of Islam, including those gravitating towards its extreme manifestations. Why so? Perhaps the Turks have less responsibility, eh? For example, you can derive such a formula: they have 72 million people on 783 thousand km2 of the country's area, and we have only 143 million for 17 million km2. That is, if we take the ratio of areas to the ratio of the number of people, there are forty times more worries. So that! On this funny comparison, perhaps, I should finish the analysis; otherwise it would be impossible to find the truth. I had two transfers: from a taxi to the subway and then to a tram. I slowly made my way to the destination - a stop called <em>Sultanahmet</em>. The Mosque of the same name or, as it is also called \"Blue\", immediately eclipses the whole environment. And although I was aiming primarily at St. Sophia, I decided to start with a Muslim shrine, since I was in a country where overwhelming majority of people, more than 95% of the population, professed Islam. Interesting conclusions have been presented as a result of a representative study conducted by the Bertelsmann Foundation, \"Religionsmonitor 2013\". Turkey is a secular state, but among the dozens of countries in which the quality of religiosity has been analyzed, it is noted as the center of the highest religiosity. 82% of Turks, according to the poll, consider themselves religious. For comparison: in Israel, this figure is 31%, while the Swedes have only 28%. Even from a distance, a massive building, balanced by six elegant pointed minarets, produced a stunning impression. The steps of the small domes of the lower chapels, rising higher, took on large size, completing the illusion of spatial expansion, transforming into the stunning beauty and dimensions of the main dome of the architectural masterpiece crowned with a golden tip. The mosque was very crowded. Entrances for the faithful and idle were separate. The second category of visitors, after standing in the inner courtyard for a short time, got the opportunity to go inside once they put in order their clothes and move the shoes from their legs into the small plastic bags offered by the service staff. The entire surface of the floor was covered with carpets. Walking barefoot was much more pleasant than in similar establishments in India. There it was necessary to walk barefoot on a stone surface not only inside the temples, but also in the open territories of the temple complexes. For tourists it was not only a separate entrance, but also a place in the mosque itself. About one third of the entire internal space was provided for the likes of us. Making photos was allowed without any restrictions and, which was especially nice, it was free. Behind the partition dividing the part of the temple, there was a place intended for the believers, where they could communicate with Allah more or less without interference. Although it was far from being quiet. Under the arches of the grandiose dome, from the inside painted with patterned viscous traditional Islamic style against the background of celestial glaze, continuous multilingualism sounded. Along the dividing partition, two staff members walked sternly in directions, talking among themselves and tensely examining the visitors, in order to see and stop the violations of order in a timely manner. Only in the distance, at the very end of the empty area behind the fence, three faithful people were on their knees, sending prayers, despite the presence of curious infidels. It is probably wrong to compare, by any parameters, one temple with another. But I thought that in the Muslim world the strongest impression on me was made by the creation of Sedefkar Mehmed Agha – the \"Blue\" mosque.  \nhttps://img.esteem.ws/nuv5nlddur.jpg\nThe quivering beauty of the unique ligature of the ornament, the harmony of the architectural form of the interior, the grandiose dimensions of the cult structure, the continuous sound of human speech that does not merge into a continuous noise, and the words clearly uttered to your ear by the hundreds of people present in the mosque have a powerful effect on consciousness.  \nhttps://img.esteem.ws/7s7h2n1kpg.jpg\nOn the one hand, this clod seems to crush you as a speck of endless peace, on the other - under the massive vaults of the prayer hall you have a feeling of security and peace. Against this background, in spite of the opinion of numerous advisers, Sultan Ahmet's perspicacious aspiration to erect such a Moslem temple is understandable. It is the kind of temple which would not leave doubts among believers in the rightness of Islam, and among non-believers - in the rightness of conversion to Islam.  \nhttps://img.esteem.ws/yo8jna8bwb.jpg\nAt the exit from the mosque, there was a small pandemonium – a traffic jam. On a tiny patch of a porch barefoot people were trying to find a place where you could easily put your shoes on, and then again as usual in the most improper place — right at the door — there was a brisk trade with all sorts of small souvenirs. Having overcome this obstacle, I followed through the inner square of the cathedral to the arched gate. Just behind them the alley leading to the Sophia Cathedral (<em>Hagia Sophia</em>) stretched. \nhttps://img.esteem.ws/hhtde3chk2.jpg\nAlong the way, there was a funny kind of mummer, or a dervish, or a descendant of Sultan Ahmet. He was very picturesque with a broad snow-white beard and a watermelon belly. I did not stop to find out his role due to a possibility of him sticking to me, just like his kind, like our numerous annoying Petersburg \"peters\" and \"ekaterinas\". Well, I got to the main point of my aspiration on the land of ancient Byzantium. \nhttps://img.esteem.ws/y6l3tpygg5.jpg\nHagia Sophia, was built in 532 during the time of the Emperor Justinian. It took only five years to implement this grandiose project.\nhttps://img.esteem.ws/1nl2e22r2e.jpg\nOn the scale with it was, perhaps, our St. Isaac's Cathedral, conceived almost one and a half thousand years later. However, it took forty years to erect it, i.e. eight times as much! I would not be surprised if the budget, formed at the beginning of construction, had grown by the same amount to completion. In Russia this is the norm: the Zenit stadium in St. Petersburg, the Sochi springboard. Both constructions’ original price increased by a magic number for domestic bribe-takers - 8 times! If the deadlines also corresponded to such arithmetic, then even the great-grandsons of the current pseudo stars would not have time to play at the stadium. Well, the Olympics would get by without a springboard. The entrance to Hagia Sophia, unlike Sultanahmet, was paid and not cheap, almost fifteen US dollars (25 Turkish lira). Nevertheless, there were many who wanted to look at this creation. I had to stand for twenty minutes in the queue for the entrance ticket, and at the time I left the temple complex, the line increased at least five times. There was an opportunity to bypass the queue with the use of the services of local hucksters who offered tickets for 30-35 lira. But I decided to stay in the legal field and did not encourage the Turkish corruption. The external dimensions of the Cathedral, in comparison with the mosque, did not produce the same strong impression. Yes, massive walls. Yes, a vast area under the foundation. But the structure itself looked somewhat stumpy. Damaged brickwork and stone cladding, as well as scaffolding installed outside the walls, apparently concealed the real size of the Temple. But as soon as I stepped over the threshold, a huge body of feelings fell upon me and the spirit, taken by surprise, froze. For a long time I stood, shaken by the inner depth and the space that opened before me. Finally, having regained consciousness, I began to choose what to shoot and a shooting location. In the temple there was little lighting, if it could be called lighting, but it gave additional emotions and entertainment to the preserved decoration.\nhttps://img.esteem.ws/b0vhdipbsb.jpg\nIt was impossible even to imagine how it was originally here, if what survived caused such rapture and awe. The walls were faced with different shades of marble and red porphyry. Massive columns of green jasper were brought here from the Temple of Ephesus Artemis. The interior walls and vaults of the Cathedral were decorated with frescoes and a golden mosaic, well preserved to the present day due to the fact that the Ottomans, converting the Orthodox Temple into a mosque, did not begin to destroy them, but simply smeared with plaster. Changing the camera angles, I gradually approached the exit, which meant the completion of the inspection. In total, I spent more than an hour and a half here. Of course, I could continue shooting in the Temple, but as it often happened with the first pancake, which is by no means a lump, I did not take a pencil case with a spare flash drive. All that I had left was a backup video camera - a point-and-shoot with the prehistoric resolution of the matrix. After a moment of sadness, I consoled myself that Istanbul was still not the summit of Kilimanjaro, and it would be easy to come here again with two flash cards! Imbued with impressions, I headed towards the hotel without a hurry. I did not want to rush headlong into the airport at the last minute, even if it was located a stone's throw from the hotel. I bought a ticket to the tram from the machine. Then waited for the desired route and pretty soon reached the stop, where you had to change to the subway. After reflecting on the further movement, I decided that there was no point in going by the subway and then changing to taxi. So I went out onto the road and did not even had time to wave my hand when a yellow car drove up from the opposite strip in the course of the traffic with a dashing turn and a squeal of brakes. — Get in, friend! —The Gonen hotel? — Yes, yes, let’s go, — it took 20 minutes to get to my destination. The taximeter tapped thirty lire. The taxi driver received fifteen dollars in return and left me with satisfaction at the door of the hotel. Taking the luggage left in the luggage room in the morning, I approached the administrator to find out the time of the bus departure to the airport. — At 17.30 a bus will be waiting for you at the exit from the hotel. — Thank you. You have a wonderful hotel and excellent service. I had a good time here. Thank you! — and then I noticed in the corner of the counter there was a tripod, exactly like mine. Wow what kind of popularity. — Ah, that's probably your thing. The maid was cleaning the room, well, the one you did not like. Apparently, you left it there, — the receptionist said smiling at the edge of his lips through a black strip of mustache and, as it seemed to me, with a wink. — Yes, perhaps, — I muttered, barely audible, and moved away from the counter, taking the tripod.&nbsp;</p>\n<p>* * *&nbsp;</p>\n<p>The remaining time before departure I devoted to ordering thoughts, writing down in the notebook the key episodes of the past day. Soon the porter approached me and invited me to the bus. Like yesterday, the journey took no more than ten minutes, and I was at the airport long before boarding. And then I ran into a problem. In the huge building of the airport, there was not a single free space where I could drop my body while waiting for registration. It seemed strange, and then I went to a cafe, got attached to a loose chair at the table, but did not order anything. For an hour and a half different people would sit down, eat their food and leave the territory of the cafe, and I, with headphones in my ears, watched the variety of characters, enjoying the pleasant sounds of the African continent, pining in anticipation of me. When the speakerphone invited me to the terminal where registration was supposed to be, I was somewhat surprised to find a very large room with many free seats. And after all, you would not drag yourself through the entire airport building. Who knows that you would be boarding your flight exactly here. Gradually the hall began to fill with passengers. I deliberately sat closer to the counter, so as not to drag my almost two-pood backpack far, and then I stared at the scales with an ominous warning: “Hand luggage is allowed up to 8 kg. Please check your luggage!” This was news. For the first time I met such a thing installed almost in front of the ladder. And what would they do with my twenty kilograms of equipment, if it was not allowed? This question tormented me until the boarding pass was received. And before that, the notorious scales busted me a gut, and I felt, if not as a criminal, then at least as a suspected with every glance of an airline employee in my direction. Having taken my place on board, I was prepared to get enough sleep - it's more than seven hours to fly, and the schedule was quite tense. Arrival early in the morning, transfer to Arusha, and then in a couple of hours was already departure for the first safari in the Tarangire National Park. Far from it! As on the previous flight, Turkish Airlines tried to excel in full swing. And they succeeded. Drinks and food throughout the flight, I did not get even a chance to close my eyes. Since the main purpose of my trip to Africa was to climb Kilimanjaro, I was very surprised to find a large number of children of different ages on the plane, even toddlers. What were they supposed to do there? Later, when I passed through the salon to the exit at the airport \"Kilimanjaro\", all the children with their parents continued to doze peacefully. The time was early, three o'clock in the afternoon, and the liner, after landing some passengers, continued to Mombasa, to the ocean coast of Kenya. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;</p>\n</html>",
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      "title": "Stanzibar. (Trip to Kilimanjaro)",
      "body": "<html>\n<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;<em>Transit Istanbul</em>&nbsp;</p>\n<p>As I supposed, I did not get a chance to leave work in time. It was also the Friday evening which naturally was not going to treat me well trafficwise. Therefore, when I came home, I began nervously and hurriedly fastening the underpacked backpacks. I shoved inside everything left scattered over the room in a one and a half meters radius, and hurried after my friend, who had come to see off an old friend to the boonies. &nbsp;There were several options of getting to Kilimanjaro. As there were no direct flights, it was possible to travel via Amsterdam, Zurich, Doha or Istanbul. The first two carriers - <em>Swiss air</em> and <em>KLM</em> - inspired more confidence. Doha at that time did not appeal to me, but the prospect of a transit day in the capital of Byzantium with the help of <em>Turkish Airlines</em> looked extremely attractive. Thus, I chose an affordable 25 thousand rubles ticket with an overnight stay in Istanbul and a flight to the final destination at 6.00 pm another day. Therefore, the whole day was to be spent in an interesting city, whose visions tempted my consciousness from early youth. &nbsp;I managed to get to the airport without particular problems, but time for long seeing-off with tears and lamentations ran short. Hastily shaking hands, my friends left me at the border of the customs zone. As usual, there was a performance of shaking up backpacks at the security check and weighing the luggage at the check-in. Troubles with luggage are eternal. Well, I cannot fit into the permissible norms. Hence today, at home my luggage weighed 50 kilos! Well, I count 32 kg for the checked luggage, 8 — for the hand luggage. Where to put 10 more kilos? I divided the backpack into two parts. I unfastened a small assault backpack from the main one and stuffed it with the heaviest lenses, pressing them down with a steadicam. I put it in a plastic bag, which gave it the appearance of no more than a one and a half kilogram fold. Then it remained to disguise the backpack for the required size — no more than 55 cm. I tightened to the limit all the dangling straps-suspenders and got 60 cm — almost the desired result. However, the conversation with the girl, who lazily sat behind the counter with the Turkish Airlines sign, began not in a kind way. She did not even bother to smile in response to my broad greeting. ­— Put your suitcase on the luggage belt, — she told me. 33 kilograms. «It is impossible, — I thought to myself, — it was only 29 kilos at home!» — And a backpack, please. — But this is hand baggage. My equipment is there. — Anyway, put it on the scales. The indicator panel showed 48 kilos. It meant that in the backpack, which I was going to drag into the cabin, there was 15 kilos instead of the permissible 8! Plus this ten-kilogram backpack disguised as a package was about to catch the eye of the guardian of standard grams. Without changing my facial expression, I slowly began pushing it with my foot to the side, under the counter, away from her eyes, simultaneously calculating the total weight of my luggage and the possible financial losses associated with paying for exceeding the permissible weight. But the experience took its toll. We parted with, as it seemed initially, a strict lady when she issued me a boarding pass. We shared warm smiles with each other and wishes of good luck. My nearly 60-kilogram gear went with me aboard the liner of Turkish Airlines. With an effort, I shoved the backpack on the shelf of hand luggage, took practically the space for the whole row, finally sat down in an armchair and plunged into nirvana, leafing through the pages of the old dream page called «Africa». However, this was preceded by a whole day of transit in Istanbul and, placing the «book of Africa»<br>\non the shelf of memory, I opened the standing beside «Byzantium» book, plunging into scattered pages of memories, laid somewhere between brain convolutions in the course of my whole life. To tell you the truth, it was not possible to catch a lot, which, undoubtedly, encouraged the schedule to be tightened in order to more fully inspect the Turkish capital. The flight turned out to be short, about three hours, but a little dull. Probably, the upcoming expectation of such a welcome vacation with the anticipation of visiting new far places brought me to a state of internal excitement and impatience. In addition, it was not possible to completely abandon the surrounding space of a rather spacious salon. A helpful brigade of flight attendants every now and then offered all sorts of snacks and drinks throughout the flight, right up to the very announcement of the landing. In addition, they also offered a good dinner. The only thing that caused some dissonance in a series of positive perception of the airline was a harsh landing. The liner, in spite of the usual landing approach along the tangent to the runway, almost vertically ducked down from the height of about five meters. Once it heavily smacked on the landing gear, it sank all the way in on the struts of shock absorbers. Then somehow slowly, it straightened its «knees», shook himself and finally roared with the reverse of both engines, struggled to slow down, intensively rocking the contents of the luggage and passenger cabins. Some prayed praying with the cross, others read Surah, and some individuals poured the contents of their stomachs into special packets. The most optimistic applauded, and those passengers that were pretty much treated with alcohol drinks of hospitable Turks snored and did not notice anything at all, with their heads leaned to the chair headrest.</p>\n<p>&nbsp;* * * &nbsp;</p>\n<p>«Atatürk» closes the twenty largest airports in the world. You understand this right away when you step off the airstairs. It took us at least 10 minutes on the bus to get from the plane to the entrance to the terminal building, and the driver followed a strict striping along the lanes, famously passing the oncoming traffic. We stopped at intersections waiting for a green traffic light signal and even getting stuck in real traffic jams. The building of the airport was huge; however, it did not look bulky and was quite understandable by its structure. We walked along the moving walkways to the border crossing, where, without torturing himself and other people, a smiling friendly border guard rubber-stamped the entry visas in the passports of white and black, broad and narrow-eyed citizens of different continents. Natasha had flown out two days before me, and so, in order to avoid problems when registering, I went to the airline's office in order to make a note that the ticket for my daughter was paid from my credit card on a voluntary basis. The procedure took several minutes, but saved unnecessary worries during transit. And then there was more! It was in the office that the pretty girl who answered in the Northern capital for the whole Turkish fleet told me that transit passengers with a transfer for more than twenty hours could be checked in a hotel at the expense of the company and explained in detail where on the airport territory I should find this additional bonus from Turkish Airlines. &nbsp;And now, with my stamped passport and a ticket with a boarding pass, I moved towards the office of my already almost native airline. I submitted documents to a man at the counter with a recognizable logo; he offered to wait a little, while the transit passengers from other flights would gather. I sat down at the coffee table and began clicking the keys of the laptop, hoping to find the signal from my friends, who had already been breathing the wild wind of Africa for almost a day. At this time, the company employee began to shout out some names, and the passengers began to get up from their seats to meet him. Then I, though not without difficulty, sorted my name out the sounds issued by the Turk. He gathered seven of us and offered to follow him to the bus. My companions, who had flown two days earlier along the same route, reported that the Turks greeted them very cordially, placing them in the Radisson Hotel with all the extremely pleasant little things that followed. For example, the pool before breakfast, eh? A good «hostel»-service, isn’t it? Unfortunately, I did not properly listen to the instructions of my friends and did not put the bathing suit in my hand luggage, but sent it in the luggage straight to Tanzania. Nevertheless, I was not only internally ready to rest at a hotel of this level, but I was hungry for it. And now, following the representative of the airline, not without satisfaction, I saw the transport with a sign of the desired hotel and, advancing the escort, rushed to the door. — Sir, — he said, — it is the wrong way. Come here, — he pointed to the nearby bus with the inscription of the hotel that did not speak to me. &nbsp;«Therefore, my companions were simply lucky with «Radisson», and I will get to an ordinary Turkish hostel». However, considering that I had bought the cheapest airplane ticket to Africa, and tomorrow, for the whole day, I would have a unique opportunity to see the sights of Istanbul, I was ready to endure hardships in the shabbiest hotel, especially at someone else's expense. «How far is it from the airport?» — I asked the attendant with a note of slight disappointment. «Very near, five minutes», — replied the smiling mustachioed youngster. And really, no more than ten minutes later the bus turned into a pocket and stopped at the entrance to the high-rise building, on whose peak the name of the «Istanbul GONEN» was revealed on the transit shelter of the Turkish Airlines passengers. A good «hostel». Earlier I had seen hotels under the brand «Radisson», there was something to compare, but it was not required at all. My refuge for the next day, by all appearances, possessed everything necessary for such travelers as me. The only thing that bothered me was the lack of single rooms. According to the old habit, I thought that they would check me in with a snorer, and the night might not seem so sweet as one would like. Looking at my fellow travelers, I estimated the potential of everyone and decided that a couple of talkative Indians were perhaps the most undesirable neighbors, as they would hardly stop their conversation until morning in an effort to share fresh impressions of their stay in the new country. According to the Murphy's Law, for sure they will be placed with me! As an international team, we followed the escort to the hotel to the reception desk. The administrator seated everyone on the sofas and began shouting out the names one by one, inviting one after another to register and place. Then it was my turn. The receptionist asked me for a deposit of fifty dollars for a minibar. Having received the banknote, he put it in an envelope on which he wrote the room number and, holding out to me the key card, explained how to get there. Having specified the time of breakfast, I thanked him and went in search of my lair. The interior of the hotel left no doubt that, if it was not «Radisson», then in any case, not a hostel either. Yes, and the cost of the room at 120 euros per day also meant something. Once I found the door with the right number, only with the third attempt I managed to cope with the lock. Two backpacks in one hand and a heavy bag with photographic accessories, disguised as a plastic bag, in another greatly complicated the procedure of opening the lock with a magnetic card. Finally, the lock clicked, the door leaned forward, and the fierce spirit of the musty room, enveloped in dense darkness, struck my nostrils. Trying to find a switch, I let go of the door, and it began to shut under the action of the door closer. At the last moment, I put my foot in the opening, thereby not allowing myself to be locked in a stifling, stuffy darkness. Attempts to find the switch did not lead to anything. Carefully lowering the luggage onto the floor, I opened the door wide, letting in a faint gleam of corridor light and fresh air. The room was so big that due to lack of lighting I did not see the opposite wall. Somewhere in the middle of the room, there was a huge double or triple bed, I really did not know. Ruffled sheets and blankets mixed with pillows. Or people? — Excuse me, is anybody in there? Silence. Stuffiness. Darkness. &nbsp;— Hey, who is in here? «Horrifying. Maybe there is someone asleep? And maybe not even asleep but passed to eternal rest?». I stepped back to the door while groping for the backpacks on the floor. «Nope, I don’t want such neighbors. Even at someone else’s expense!». I picked up all my belongings and broke into the door, went straight to the receptionist. — Excuse me, but that room is occupied. Provide me with another one. — How do you know? There is nobody in there. — I assure you, there is someone. The receptionist looked at the screen of the monitor, shrugged his shoulders, flicked his mouse and, calling to the assistant, handed him the key. — Lead the sir. The guy smiled, took my big backpack and gestured me to follow him. &nbsp;— Well, come on, you'll see, — I muttered to myself. However, when we came out of the elevator, we turned in the opposite direction and stopped at the door with another number. The assistant opened the door, skillfully put the key in the cell on the wall, which made the room immediately illuminate with a dim background light. &nbsp;— Here, please, do you like it? TV, minibar? — Is everything included then? — No. Minibar is paid, but here is a bottle of water, it is free! — Then I’ll have some water, thank you, friend, — I said with relief that my troubles had ended and I did not even have to figure out whether my potential neighbor would survive or die surrounded by loving lodgers. And yet I could not resist asking, — What's the problem with the previous room? — Oh, sorry, the maid did not have time to clean it after the departure of some Russian celebrity. He seems to have become famous after the cover of the hit of our Tarkan. He was curly-haired, effeminate. Well, you understand me? Glory be to Allah, today his whole noisy company has left. — Are you sure that everyone left; maybe they forgot anybody in a hurry? — No, no, I assure you. I checked. Yes, indeed, there is a big mess, but the room is empty. I'm sorry, but we did not have time to prepare it for your arrival, I'm very sorry, — and, guiltily looking down, the guy disappeared behind the door. The level of the hotel, as I managed to notice, was very decent: half a dozen towels, slippers, a bathrobe and other accessories of the toilet room, and the room itself in a modern style. When I was left alone, I threw off my clothes and went to the shower, where, under different jets, I took off the fatigue and mud that had accumulated during the day. &nbsp;«A rest, finally!» — I gave myself an order, falling on the bed. However, the sense of duty overcame the desire to forget everything until the morning. It was necessary to prepare for tomorrow's walk around the city: to decide which equipment is better to take, recharge the batteries, check the camera settings. Moreover, it was required to contact relatives, so those who stayed at home should receive good messages from the route, and ask others, who were ahead of me for two days, questions that they already had answers for sure. In particular, I was very interested in the signs that I should recognize in Justin at the Kilimanjaro airport. It should be noted that I received an exhaustive answer, without commenting: «You will recognize him immediately!» Having finished the negotiations, I laid down on the pillow, reflecting on the events of the outgoing day. Something kept me in suspense. In general, everything went by as it should: they did not detain the flight, and the airplane was decent. Again, the Turks accommodated me, the hotel was beautiful. Well, what more do you need? The dream gradually began to dissolve thoughts, when suddenly: «Stop! But what about the number that I was originally checked in? The maid did not have time to clean? No way. This number would not get a settlement option without a mark of readiness, it's a safe bet. Or maybe I overestimate the quality of local service? Yes, I'm breaking my head here, and won’t be able to fall asleep until the morning because of the stupid thoughts. And what if the guy lied, what if he did not check the number? Very strange and alarming images appeared through the darkness of a sultry habitat. No, I will not calm down». I rose from my bed, tied my robe tighter, and looked around to find something suitable for the night raid in the rear of the enemy. In conditions of abroad, for lack of either gunshot or stabbing weapons, the tripod can be very useful. I slightly opened the door, in the opening a soft blue light shone the corridor leading to the opposite wing of the building. Silence gave a ringing in my ears. No sound, no squeak or anything reminiscent of life in these walls. Strange somehow. Steps drowned in the high, soft pile of Turkish tracks, also without making the slightest noise. Insulation in the building must be at the highest level. Looking around, I got to the place without meeting anyone. As I was about to knock, I noticed that the door was not closed tightly and, with a slight pressure on it, I felt it [ЯБ1] move forward a little, as if inviting me inside. A stench of tobacco smoke, stale alcohol, human flesh, sweats, and perhaps blood saturated the entire inner space. The eyes were not immediately accustomed to the dark, and for a while I stood as if blind. But I felt I was not alone. — Hey? — Well, why are you making noise? Come in. — Can I turn on the light? — And why the light, I can already see, and you just do not need to see everything. You'll learn less, maybe for the good. Just kidding. Throw your stuff in the closet and settle down. Are you getting up early in the morning? I nodded silently. «Then», — continued the weakly visible silhouette, «Take the place to the far left. Besides us, there are a couple of love-birds hiding there. You will sleep right next to them. Do not be afraid, they won’t touch you. They have a honeymoon now, and so there is no business for the rest. But if the Scandinavian trio does not leave today, then the night is still tough. Anyone should be aware of this gang. These scoundrels feed exclusively on group sadism. It's not safe, you know. Why, I have a lot of experience in this, but I had never been slapped so hard, usually it was me who did the slapping. In the morning this cattle left and did not take handcuffs off me. My hands are completely numb, and the linen had dried up to the wounds, and it would not hurt to get to the toilet. Unfasten it, buddy», — the voice asked from the darkness. I listened strenuously to such a recognizable intonation. It was impossible to believe in this. Perhaps it was a coincidence? Well, there are twins in appearance. Sometimes it is impossible to tell by the voices of people. However, it was this voice from the television and radio channels that disgusted all ears that all doubts melted in an instant. — Friend, unfasten me, eh? — he repeated ingratiatingly. — Yes, yes, just a moment — I muttered, and, turning around, almost knocked the door in the opposite direction, leaving the settlement of perverts. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;I rushed through the labyrinth of corridors to my room and, probably, darted past my turn. I wanted to return, but I heard rapidly approaching voices and noise that left no doubt I was followed. I did not want to push my luck and turned to the stairs, ran several spans and shot out to another floor, almost losing my slippers. Once I got to the next staircase, I returned to my floor. I located the right direction and found myself in my room in a moment. Bursting inside, I slammed the door shut and fell to the bed with heavy panting, exhausted by the pursuit. The morning approached a huge metropolis with all its permanent and temporary inhabitants. The sky, completely shrouded in a gray veil, gave birth to a soft, sunless dawn, barely able to penetrate the curtains of the wide, full-length window. And yet, gradually displacing the remnants of the night from the room, a stream of light made its way to the most remote places and filled the space. In the end, soft rays touched my eyelids and, seeping between them, awakened me from a restless sleep. Anything can be imagined in the ancient city of crazy dreams. I did not want to waste time thinking while looking at the ceiling. I had quite extensive plans for today, so after hasty morning procedures, I hurried to the catering facilities. Although nothing surprising was offered for breakfast, still the food was of excellent quality with an emphasis on local cuisine. I filled the stomach to the brim with various dishes but did not fail to get a cup of good coffee at last, admiring the view of the turquoise smoothness of the pool, which was located in a small courtyard, directly behind the shop windows. I packed the equipment necessary for today in an assault backpack and tossed the rest into a large one. After completing the preparations, I glanced around the room, making sure that I had not forgotten anything. Then I put all the belongings on my back and took them to the storage room. Then, on the way to the exit, I looked at the registration desk to ask how I could get to the center of old Istanbul faster. The administrator explained in detail, making notes on the map and drawing the route of the city transport to the place of interest. First I should take a taxi; the drive is about seven to eight minutes to the metro. Next, it is about fifteen minutes to pass the so-called ground subway (on my way the train never went down under the ground), and then change to a tram. After that, in half an hour, I will be in the heart of Istanbul at the Blue Mosque. —Can I buy tickets for the subway and tram directly inside a carriage or in special places? — You can buy them at any stop before a carriage entrance. And here, — he bent down, rummaged on the shelf and handed me a card, — please, take this card for two trips to the subway and tram. — Thank you, how much do I owe you? — You don’t owe me anything. This is a student's travel card, it's free. I study at university, I have more. — Oh, really! Well, I'm very grateful. As they say, if you come to Kolyma, you are always welcome to visit us! — Is Kolyma in Moscow? — Not really. But it is in Russia. Thank you once again, see you. Right at the entrance to the hotel was a taxi. I asked the driver if he would take me for a dozen lire (exactly half of the Turkish money that I traded at the airport for pocket expenses). &nbsp;— You crazy, friend? Twenty five! — Well, for twenty five I'll get to the Blue Mosque without any transits. — Well, OK, — he agreed, — get inside; I drive Mosque for fifty. — So we agreed on eight and to the subway. Good? — Eightee? &nbsp;— Yep, euros. And twenty as a tip. Deal? —??? — he processed that. A second later he jumped out from the car, rummaged around the hood and opened the door of his shabby vehicle in front of me. — Deal! I looked at him and couldn’t find anything to say. &nbsp;— I’m joking, — I couldn’t bare it anymore, – I won’t pay you more than twelve lire, no matter what. Your compatriots have already revealed to me a terrible secret about the cost of the trip. So if you do not want to cooperate — good luck to you. — I turned away and took a step in the direction of the approaching car. — Maybe fifteen? — almost a pled. — Have a nice day. — Okay, okay, deal, — he muttered as he took my backpack. And yet, in the end, he tricked me into these ill-fated three lire, promising that he would take me to another station. Supposedly, it was much closer and more convenient than the one I wanted to go initially. Thus, he took his fifteen. Well, I, respectively, gave slack. Well, as they say, «I did not catch up but at least I warmed up». After a while, already sitting in the car, I was surprised to find that the driver did not know a word of English. I, accordingly, didn’t know any Turkish. Although Istanbul can be probably one of the cities most visited by Russians due to the specifics of the shuttle business in the times of changing of the next economic formation in our Fatherland, I was here for the first time and, frankly, I was eagerly awaiting this event. Under the driver's chirp and the completely incomprehensible sounds of his companions, continually bursting from the speakers of the intercom, I kept turning my head from side to side, peering curiously at people, houses, cars, and penetrated the atmosphere of a city I had never known before. I liked it. I even thought about a certain similarity between our countries. It is believed that Russia is a bridge between the western and eastern civilizations. If a certain balance is violated: in a particular place, at a certain time, there is more or less of something Western or Eastern, then there are contradictions that have an influence on the character of the development of our society. And our misfortunes (especially the roads) come from this notorious duality, be it wrong! However, in my opinion, the Turks, who have internal problems no less than ours, do not fail to develop. They have their problems as well: the Kurdish question, serious confrontations between supporters of secular development of the state with a vector to the west, to Europe, and in contrast to this a considerable number of adherents of various directions of Islam, including those gravitating towards its extreme manifestations. Why so? Perhaps the Turks have less responsibility, eh? For example, you can derive such a formula: they have 72 million people on 783 thousand km2 of the country's area, and we have only 143 million for 17 million km2. That is, if we take the ratio of areas to the ratio of the number of people, there are forty times more worries. So that! On this funny comparison, perhaps, I should finish the analysis; otherwise it would be impossible to find the truth. I had two transfers: from a taxi to the subway and then to a tram. I slowly made my way to the destination - a stop called <em>Sultanahmet</em>. The Mosque of the same name or, as it is also called \"Blue\", immediately eclipses the whole environment. And although I was aiming primarily at St. Sophia, I decided to start with a Muslim shrine, since I was in a country where overwhelming majority of people, more than 95% of the population, professed Islam. Interesting conclusions have been presented as a result of a representative study conducted by the Bertelsmann Foundation, \"Religionsmonitor 2013\". Turkey is a secular state, but among the dozens of countries in which the quality of religiosity has been analyzed, it is noted as the center of the highest religiosity. 82% of Turks, according to the poll, consider themselves religious. For comparison: in Israel, this figure is 31%, while the Swedes have only 28%. Even from a distance, a massive building, balanced by six elegant pointed minarets, produced a stunning impression. The steps of the small domes of the lower chapels, rising higher, took on large size, completing the illusion of spatial expansion, transforming into the stunning beauty and dimensions of the main dome of the architectural masterpiece crowned with a golden tip. The mosque was very crowded. Entrances for the faithful and idle were separate. The second category of visitors, after standing in the inner courtyard for a short time, got the opportunity to go inside once they put in order their clothes and move the shoes from their legs into the small plastic bags offered by the service staff. The entire surface of the floor was covered with carpets. Walking barefoot was much more pleasant than in similar establishments in India. There it was necessary to walk barefoot on a stone surface not only inside the temples, but also in the open territories of the temple complexes. For tourists it was not only a separate entrance, but also a place in the mosque itself. About one third of the entire internal space was provided for the likes of us. Making photos was allowed without any restrictions and, which was especially nice, it was free. Behind the partition dividing the part of the temple, there was a place intended for the believers, where they could communicate with Allah more or less without interference. Although it was far from being quiet. Under the arches of the grandiose dome, from the inside painted with patterned viscous traditional Islamic style against the background of celestial glaze, continuous multilingualism sounded. Along the dividing partition, two staff members walked sternly in directions, talking among themselves and tensely examining the visitors, in order to see and stop the violations of order in a timely manner. Only in the distance, at the very end of the empty area behind the fence, three faithful people were on their knees, sending prayers, despite the presence of curious infidels. It is probably wrong to compare, by any parameters, one temple with another. But I thought that in the Muslim world the strongest impression on me was made by the creation of Sedefkar Mehmed Agha – the \"Blue\" mosque. The quivering beauty of the unique ligature of the ornament, the harmony of the architectural form of the interior, the grandiose dimensions of the cult structure, the continuous sound of human speech that does not merge into a continuous noise, and the words clearly uttered to your ear by the hundreds of people present in the mosque have a powerful effect on consciousness. On the one hand, this clod seems to crush you as a speck of endless peace, on the other - under the massive vaults of the prayer hall you have a feeling of security and peace. Against this background, in spite of the opinion of numerous advisers, Sultan Ahmet's perspicacious aspiration to erect such a Moslem temple is understandable. It is the kind of temple which would not leave doubts among believers in the rightness of Islam, and among non-believers - in the rightness of conversion to Islam. At the exit from the mosque, there was a small pandemonium – a traffic jam. On a tiny patch of a porch barefoot people were trying to find a place where you could easily put your shoes on, and then again as usual in the most improper place — right at the door — there was a brisk trade with all sorts of small souvenirs. Having overcome this obstacle, I followed through the inner square of the cathedral to the arched gate. Just behind them the alley leading to the Sophia Cathedral (<em>Hagia Sophia</em>) stretched. Along the way, there was a funny kind of mummer, or a dervish, or a descendant of Sultan Ahmet. He was very picturesque with a broad snow-white beard and a watermelon belly. I did not stop to find out his role due to a possibility of him sticking to me, just like his kind, like our numerous annoying Petersburg \"peters\" and \"ekaterinas\". Well, I got to the main point of my aspiration on the land of ancient Byzantium. Hagia Sophia, was built in 532 during the time of the Emperor Justinian. It took only five years to implement this grandiose project. On the scale with it was, perhaps, our St. Isaac's Cathedral, conceived almost one and a half thousand years later. However, it took forty years to erect it, i.e. eight times as much! I would not be surprised if the budget, formed at the beginning of construction, had grown by the same amount to completion. In Russia this is the norm: the Zenit stadium in St. Petersburg, the Sochi springboard. Both constructions’ original price increased by a magic number for domestic bribe-takers - 8 times! If the deadlines also corresponded to such arithmetic, then even the great-grandsons of the current pseudo stars would not have time to play at the stadium. Well, the Olympics would get by without a springboard. The entrance to Hagia Sophia, unlike Sultanahmet, was paid and not cheap, almost fifteen US dollars (25 Turkish lira). Nevertheless, there were many who wanted to look at this creation. I had to stand for twenty minutes in the queue for the entrance ticket, and at the time I left the temple complex, the line increased at least five times. There was an opportunity to bypass the queue with the use of the services of local hucksters who offered tickets for 30-35 lira. But I decided to stay in the legal field and did not encourage the Turkish corruption. The external dimensions of the Cathedral, in comparison with the mosque, did not produce the same strong impression. Yes, massive walls. Yes, a vast area under the foundation. But the structure itself looked somewhat stumpy. Damaged brickwork and stone cladding, as well as scaffolding installed outside the walls, apparently concealed the real size of the Temple. But as soon as I stepped over the threshold, a huge body of feelings fell upon me and the spirit, taken by surprise, froze. For a long time I stood, shaken by the inner depth and the space that opened before me. Finally, having regained consciousness, I began to choose what to shoot and a shooting location. In the temple there was little lighting, if it could be called lighting, but it gave additional emotions and entertainment to the preserved decoration. It was impossible even to imagine how it was originally here, if what survived caused such rapture and awe. The walls were faced with different shades of marble and red porphyry. Massive columns of green jasper were brought here from the Temple of Ephesus Artemis. The interior walls and vaults of the Cathedral were decorated with frescoes and a golden mosaic, well preserved to the present day due to the fact that the Ottomans, converting the Orthodox Temple into a mosque, did not begin to destroy them, but simply smeared with plaster. Changing the camera angles, I gradually approached the exit, which meant the completion of the inspection. In total, I spent more than an hour and a half here. Of course, I could continue shooting in the Temple, but as it often happened with the first pancake, which is by no means a lump, I did not take a pencil case with a spare flash drive. All that I had left was a backup video camera - a point-and-shoot with the prehistoric resolution of the matrix. After a moment of sadness, I consoled myself that Istanbul was still not the summit of Kilimanjaro, and it would be easy to come here again with two flash cards! Imbued with impressions, I headed towards the hotel without a hurry. I did not want to rush headlong into the airport at the last minute, even if it was located a stone's throw from the hotel. I bought a ticket to the tram from the machine. Then waited for the desired route and pretty soon reached the stop, where you had to change to the subway. After reflecting on the further movement, I decided that there was no point in going by the subway and then changing to taxi. So I went out onto the road and did not even had time to wave my hand when a yellow car drove up from the opposite strip in the course of the traffic with a dashing turn and a squeal of brakes. — Get in, friend! —The Gonen hotel? — Yes, yes, let’s go, — it took 20 minutes to get to my destination. The taximeter tapped thirty lire. The taxi driver received fifteen dollars in return and left me with satisfaction at the door of the hotel. Taking the luggage left in the luggage room in the morning, I approached the administrator to find out the time of the bus departure to the airport. — At 17.30 a bus will be waiting for you at the exit from the hotel. — Thank you. You have a wonderful hotel and excellent service. I had a good time here. Thank you! — and then I noticed in the corner of the counter there was a tripod, exactly like mine. Wow what kind of popularity. — Ah, that's probably your thing. The maid was cleaning the room, well, the one you did not like. Apparently, you left it there, — the receptionist said smiling at the edge of his lips through a black strip of mustache and, as it seemed to me, with a wink. — Yes, perhaps, — I muttered, barely audible, and moved away from the counter, taking the tripod.&nbsp;</p>\n<p>* * *&nbsp;</p>\n<p>The remaining time before departure I devoted to ordering thoughts, writing down in the notebook the key episodes of the past day. Soon the porter approached me and invited me to the bus. Like yesterday, the journey took no more than ten minutes, and I was at the airport long before boarding. And then I ran into a problem. In the huge building of the airport, there was not a single free space where I could drop my body while waiting for registration. It seemed strange, and then I went to a cafe, got attached to a loose chair at the table, but did not order anything. For an hour and a half different people would sit down, eat their food and leave the territory of the cafe, and I, with headphones in my ears, watched the variety of characters, enjoying the pleasant sounds of the African continent, pining in anticipation of me. When the speakerphone invited me to the terminal where registration was supposed to be, I was somewhat surprised to find a very large room with many free seats. And after all, you would not drag yourself through the entire airport building. Who knows that you would be boarding your flight exactly here. Gradually the hall began to fill with passengers. I deliberately sat closer to the counter, so as not to drag my almost two-pood backpack far, and then I stared at the scales with an ominous warning: “Hand luggage is allowed up to 8 kg. Please check your luggage!” This was news. For the first time I met such a thing installed almost in front of the ladder. And what would they do with my twenty kilograms of equipment, if it was not allowed? This question tormented me until the boarding pass was received. And before that, the notorious scales busted me a gut, and I felt, if not as a criminal, then at least as a suspected with every glance of an airline employee in my direction. Having taken my place on board, I was prepared to get enough sleep - it's more than seven hours to fly, and the schedule was quite tense. Arrival early in the morning, transfer to Arusha, and then in a couple of hours was already departure for the first safari in the Tarangire National Park. Far from it! As on the previous flight, Turkish Airlines tried to excel in full swing. And they succeeded. Drinks and food throughout the flight, I did not get even a chance to close my eyes. Since the main purpose of my trip to Africa was to climb Kilimanjaro, I was very surprised to find a large number of children of different ages on the plane, even toddlers. What were they supposed to do there? Later, when I passed through the salon to the exit at the airport \"Kilimanjaro\", all the children with their parents continued to doze peacefully. The time was early, three o'clock in the afternoon, and the liner, after landing some passengers, continued to Mombasa, to the ocean coast of Kenya. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;</p>\n</html>",
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