MotoGP Istanbul

Welcome to this special edition of Back O the Grid. Istanbul, the magic of the Bosporus sparkling in the warm Mediterranean sun, the minarets of the Golden Mosque, the locals fishing from the bridges and catching yet another pistachio riddled turd. Seems as though Pistachios are an integral part of the local cuisine. You can find them in pastries, main dishes and even in the starters. A couple of days later and they provide endless fun for the local fishermen.

My weekend started with a 3 am alarm call at Chez Rangi, my flight left at 7 so it was a 5 am check in at Heathrow and a middle of the night start to my day. The upside was that I slept through most of the in-flight movie, it starred Will Smith so I didn't miss anything. After a four hour flight it was a relief to spark up in the airport, Turkey is one place where smokers aren't a dying breed.

A 35ytl ( ytl = local script for Turkish lira - we ended up calling them lentils) taxi ride took me to our hotel for the weekend, the Bauhaus Guest House, or as the locals call it "The Lucky Cockroach Motel." Since I arrived first I snagged the single bed and left Rangi and Darcy to fight over the bunk beds. With a few hours in hand I took myself out for a Turkish coffee or two. They got the strength right but the portions are just a touch small, you need about ten to equal a cup of my morning Java. Suitably fortified with caffeine I went for a long promised shave. There's something about being in a barbers chair while some Turkish Barber whirls a cut-throat razor around like its not even sharp, and while talking to his pal is swiping the stubble from your chops. While he was doing that a rather pretty young girl grabbed my hand and started slapping oils on it and started to give me a manicure. Not understanding a word I had been signed up for the full package. I can actually recommend it was a very pleasant experience and I ended up with smooth, clean nails and not the ragged oil stained ones I'm used to. Personal grooming is something the Turks are fiercely proud of and its not unusual to see them sporting neatly trimmed 'taches, a lot of the men wear them as well.

Back at the "Lucky Cockroach" Rangi n Darcy had arrived and following a short briefing from Tour Guide/GruppenFuhrer Rangi on our itinerary we went out for a bite to eat and an early night for our 7 am - 5am UK time - start the next day. What I was unprepared for was the clogged drain snoring coming from Darcy's pit. By three 0'clock I'd had enough and smacked him as hard as I could - albeit with my pillow - you never have a torque wrench when you really need one - and this shut him up long enough to get some sleep.

If they ever re-make "Beau Gueste" I can recommend our very own Rangi audition for the part of the Sergeant Markoff, the sadistic disciplinarian, fearing an extra 40 lashes I was ready for inspection at 6:45. What I wasn't ready for was Rangi driving a hire car through Istanbul. There was no way this poor car was being returned with tread or a working clutch as Rangi practised 4 wheel drifts, tyre shredding starts, stops and handbrake turns. All this with one hand on the horn and a cheery colonial disdain for the safety of the locals as he scythed through the back streets scattering pistachio vendors. At one point returning from the Track I had nodded off in the back and was awoken by being thrown against my seat belt while my ears were assaulted by the shriek of locking wheels. I opened my eyes fully expecting to see a smiling Grim Reaper offering me coffee and a fag.

Practise had been spiced up by the local support race - Turkish Superbikes. We noticed them during our paddock walkabout, this down to Rangi securing passes from Alpinestars. These guys were the highlight of the day as they played "Pin the apex on the corner" and they couldn't hit it with a shitty stick - a couple looked like they knew what they were doing - the rest looked like they had been given a choice by the judge between Turkish Jail and taking part in this spectacle. At least here they could only get lapped. Randy Mamola on the dual seat Ducati was lapping with pillion in 2:09's - the race winner was doing 2:06's, the next finisher would have left Randy and Pillion in Second. Turkey may have to wait sometime for its first WSB Champion.

As it turned out it was the anniversary of the Gallipoli landings and our quarter of Istanbul was awash with Kiwis and Aussie backpackers all drinking their own weight in beer. Our waiter for the evening had also been imbibing and our starters arrived with the main course - dessert was an option we didn't get since I think the chef had passed out. Still a couple of beers helped put Darcy into a deeper sleep and Sat night was snore free. Sunday dawned bright and clear and as I rolled over I went from the crack of dawn to the crack of Rangi. Years of an unequal struggle meant the elastic on his underpants had given up and I found myself regarding something that looked like two enormous and particularly hairy pork scratchings separated by the grand canyon. I did fumble for my camera phone but at that range the lens wasn't wide enough to fit it all into frame. Besides, its probably not something you'd want to see, I didn't.

Folly piled upon folly and that night we headed off to the Turkish baths and after stewing for 20 minutes a large, hairy Turk started seeing if he could separate flesh from bone with his cast iron fingers during what had been described as a massage on the brochure. On the plus side it does iron out any kinks and after a couple of nights without sleep it was quite invigorating. So give it a go if you get to Istanbul.

Having checked the race odds I stuck a fiver each way on Elias at 40:1. Now I'd like to claim this was a profound insight based on my extensive knowledge of MotoGP. Alas, I was at the track and though this reminds me of Portugal, maybe Elias will go well here to. Rossi faded badly during the race but that may be down to the Repsol Brolly Dollies. These were almost identical twins of breathtaking beauty and about a week on the right side of being jailbait, last seen being led off to meet "The Doctor." So it wasn't just his tyres that were shagged out by all account. We hooted and cheered Casey Stoner and Elias on every lap and revelled in baiting the sea of Rossi fans who looked dumbstruck by his poor performance. We even hung around to watch the TSB's do their stuff and were not disappointed when one nearly took out half the grid at the first corner on the warm up lap by forgetting to either brake or turn.

So that was it a hugely enjoyable weekend in Istanbul, beers, bikes and brolly babes. Down side is a four hour flight home and then being left to the less than tender mercies of our rail network which took longer to get me from Heathrow to Ipswich than Turkish airlines did to fly me from Istanbul. Even after that I am looking forward to returning next year.

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