We arrived in Istanbul and drove in the direction of our hotel — the Crystal (No. 7, Taksim) a little after 9:00 pm on Friday night, May 31st. The activity going on around us was disconcerting. Hundreds of people on the streets wearing masks and balaclavas and carrying signs and banners. All heading to the thousands already gathered in Taksim Square. Our bus could not make it up the narrow street to Taksim No. 7 so we had to get off the bus and carry or pull our luggage the last block and a half. The street had barricades a la Le Mis. It was about halfway up the street that the tear gas hit us. At first, I thought there was something wrong with my eyes and I began blinking. Rapidly. Then squinting. And I realized — tear gas. I squinted as hard as I could keeping just enough vision to sherpa my way up the street. I looked around. Donna followed in my wake. Head down. “Let’s go” I said (quite unnecessarily).
We mercifully got to the hotel. One of our number was in distress and being attended. The lobby was jammed. People. Luggage. The faint whiff of tear gas. And sweat (the day had been warm). Our hotel was at near-capacity filled with Libyans (some with medical conditions from the revolution). And Iranians. After what seemed an age, we got our room keys and went up to our room. In our first room, the toilet was flooding. And the flush mechanism fell into the toilet. I went down to the lobby. Got another room and I went up to check it out. I went in. And quickly went out. The room was full of tear gas thanks to wide open windows. Brilliant. . . . We got a third room. Seemed to work. No tear gas or toilet leaks. We drank some water and looked at each other. Welcome to Istanbul. And we went to bed.
The next few days were perfection. We were able to travel around unhindered. The Blue Mosque. Hagia Sophia. Topkapi Palace. Mass in one of the old Christian churches. Wow! But the evenings that weekend made the stay interesting as the crowds gathered in protest. . . .