I have been dreaming of bran. I found that very disturbing. My initial delight of Istanbul being the land of kebabs, and their million and one variations... is leaving me in a state of High fibre desire. I just want a clean break.

My turklish (the horrific english turkish mash that I am creating to torment the ears of the locals has hilariously backfired upon me). Whilst conversing quite amiably with a young turkish lass, after some time she said quite clearly..."you are Eunich". I did a quick double take. "Excuse me?", "You are really Eunich". I did a quick tackle grab in case something horrific had happened...no everthing ok. I thought for a second then it dawned. "Do you mean I am an individual unlike any other", "Yes" she added "Eunich". Bloody Unique. It horrified me to think of what unwitting insults I may have plied on these poor people in a similar pronounciation fopar.

Istanbul is a giant urban sprawl of 13 million people. Split apart by the Bosphorous straight separating the Asian and the European sides. It is remarkably clean for such a big city. And I have nothing short of respect for an entire culture built squarely on smoking. From the water pipe Nargile which are the cornerstone of Turkish civilisation through to the sheer number of cigarettes smoked here smoking appears to be the national sport.

And it really gets to competitive levels when the weekend comes around. Taksim is nothing short of incredible on a weekend night. People come out to play. The streets are filled to a capacity every weekend that rivals a Sydney New Years Eve. Its incredible. And I have not seen a single shred of violence. This maybe due to the high level of police rocking around with AK47s, or as I suspect and dearly hope its a characteristic of a fun loving party people. Anywhere else in the world this could turn ugly quickly, but this place has a friendliness. Dont lose it Istanbul.

There is almost an innocence here, no not an innocence more like a state of still forging an identity. Cool hasnt yet been defined here, which makes everyone play on an even field. Everyone is super friendly. The bars are just great, and you can go up and show them how to make funky cocktails from the west. This town right now is going off.

An architectural treat that must not be missed is the Aya Sophia. A massive domed church finished in 537 AD. Its vast. You feel awestruck on the inside looking up at the mosaic tiled finery of one of the worlds finest churches. They reckon there are over 30 million tiles on the ceiling. Each hand placed. I cant begin to comprehend the RSI that would create. An awe inspiring must see here.

I am winding down towards heading south. Spending a lot of time with Richard in cafes drinking chai and talking shite. On perusing one menu at one of them I asked him what cie kofte was. Ahhh he murmoured, cie kofte a local delicacy... "Its made by taking raw meat and then rolling them in the hands with spices for an hour. Its believed that the hand rolling cooks them. The locals love it. It sounded to me like intestinal total war.

As timing is so want to be, impeccable. Richard proceeded to start teaching me the fineries of turkish vowels. I paid some attension until I had an impeccably timed perilous bowel moment (pbm). This is essentially a lower intestinal moment, characterised by the result of a gamble fart (gf). A gf in this state can go one of two ways, gas or liquid, really covering some important states of matter. Best done with a small testing `push`, its then gambling time. Richard asked why I didnt seem to be paying attention to his lecture. It had something to do with my last gamble...I lost.

So a day later, and I have discovered the location of a turkish gym. This I hope to counter the effects of the bread cheese and meat diet that defines eating in Istanbul. I am however slightly concerned over doing heavy weight squats. By definition a high pbm risk activity.

To Oludeniz tonight. Paragliding mecca. Bus. 14 hours.