Day 3 started out moist, as the previous one had ended.
Gradually the rains abated, and it was just a little misty
and squishy when it was time to walk to Yerebatan Cistern
(the famous underground reservoir built by Trajan or
somesuch megalomaniac emperor) to meet our friends at 10.

We got there a bit early and wandered around, thereby
getting to endure two impassioned appeals from the carpet
seller nearest the attraction.

The cistern is really enjoyable: atmospherically lit, just a
little spooky; and, as it was made quickly out of salvaged
materials, a sort of Janson in the flesh, with variations on
Ionic, Doric, and Corinthian columns everywhere to look at.
Two of the columns in one corner got pediments of recycled
Medusa heads, one upside-down, the other sideways. Amusing.
It also smells like a swimming pool, which, I suppose, is
due to the fact that it would otherwise smell like a sewer.

We walked our people to the Topkapi Palace grounds and left
them off around 11; being a little peckish, we tried to find
the place we'd had breakfast before - it was closed on
Sunday, though, so we spent a while looking at menus. We
chose Faros, a hotel restaurant right on the main drag,
which the map that I just happen to have beside me tells me
is called Hudavendigar Caddesi. Reasons: it had been open
for breakfast, which meant that the kitchen had probably
already been fired up; it was crowded, albeit with tourists;
and the menu had things on it that I found intriguing.

Being the culinary adventurer, lili ordered a cheese omelet.
It looked as if all the other women in the place also did -
next to us there was a 6-top of reasonably cute ladies of
various ages, the proprietor flirting nonstop with the whole
table during their meal, which was six cheese omelets, and
there were other sightings of same in the rather busy room.

I had mince and kidneys in tomato sauce, apparently a famed
Turkish dish and not at all cheap, kidneys not being held in
the same bad odor, har har, as they are in the west. It took
a long time for the food to come out, and I envisioned
someone in the kitchen washing pee out of the little organs
and cursing at the strange Asian tourist ordering kidneys
for breakfast instead of the much easier and more profitable
cheese omelet.

The omelet came out more omeletlike than others we had
encountered in this un-omelettish country and was pronounced
good. For my dish, the mince (beef I think) was gristly,
which I don't mind (what's mince for but to use up the more
dubious parts of a critter), but the kidneys (lamb) had not
been cored, a problem I'd encountered at fancier places but
that still is wrong wrong wrong. These came in a simple but
good tomato puree, sided with excellent mash that seemed to
be half butter and some wet zucchini under the monicker of
"boiled vegetables."

On our first walk through the Topkapi park, we'd noticed
the (then closed) Museum of Islam and Science; this day it
was open, so we went in. Most impressive in scope, but the
exhibits consisted of very artful reconstructions and
replicas of Arab-invented measuring, surveying, astronomic,
and calculating instruments; models of ingenious engines of
war and peace from ballistas to steam turbines; and plenty
of laboratory glassware. You do know what chemists do in a
situation where they don't know what else to do? They make
a rude retort. There was a lot of stuff, which we barely
had time to look at; but the stuff wasn't original, which
should not make a difference but somehow does. To marvel at
an elaborate mechanism and read that it's a model the
original of which is in the Louvre or the British or
somewhere in Hungary or Iran just causes a little feeling
of disappointment.

The weather had turned gorgeous by the time we reconnected
with the crew for the tram trip to Kabatas and the waterside
walk to Dolmabahce Palace, the last home of the last sultan
and the home (and death site) of the first prime minister
Ataturk. It exemplifies 19th century grandeur a l'Europeenne
and, though enormous and opulent and though it gets great
notices (and came highly recommended by some tourists we
met at Topkapi), is just another palace only bigger. The
tour takes you through the harem and then the state chambers
- culminating in the great hall, with its, if I heard right,
second largest crystal chandelier in the world, gift of
Queen Victoria herself. Okay, it was interesting in its way,
but I'd just as soon have been looking out across the
Bosporus in the golden sunlight.

We did stay until approximately closing time; bade our
friends goodbye; and walked back to Besiktas to see if there
were any appropriate ferries we could take for an obligatory
trip on the strait (no); and in addition we were caught up
in the crowd of a Walk for the Cure event. So we skedaddled
out of there and took a bus to Aksaray, a more faceless part
of town, slightly dingy but getting nicer but still faceless
as you walked back toward the Bazaar and Sultanahmet. So we
cut over and found the fish restaurant district ... but lili
isn't fond of fish, and there were only the two of us, and I
like sharing meals and this is a tourist-trappy constructed
attraction if I ever saw one, anyhow, so after poking our
nose in a few places (where we were almost bowled over by
maitres d' looking for a sale) we went back toward the
hotel. Luckily, it didn't get dark until we were at the
little park near home, so I didn't fall into a hole or get
run over by a taxicab.

For dinner we ended up at a place a few blocks from the
hotel that we'd been chased from once before by a
particularly repellantly oily tout; but this time Efes,
hard to come by in this old conservative neighborhood,
called louder than the tout, so we dined at the Koy
Sofrasi (Sef: Davut Urey).

What was characterized as a Big Beer came as a small beer
glass filled to the brim, so sort of 0.4L as opposed to the
0.33L of a small one or the 0.5L of a proper big one. I
wasn't complaining, as I had good company and the prospect
of a good meal. The menu had no English or German, odd for
a restaurant that was working hard for tourist Euros; and
our proprietor/waiter had little of either, though the few
other people hanging around the restaurant were gabbling on
in some Germanoid tongue about how terrific the food was. I
was immediately suspicious of these people (shills?), but
in fact the food was perfectly fine and the prices decent.

As we were seated at the front, we could keep abreast of the
indefatigable efforts of that same tout; it was vaguely
amusing that this person was sufficiently obnoxious and
unskilled that he scared away all the potential diners
he approached. Eventually the proprietor too over, but
even with his more sedate extollings of the wonders of
the menu, he was not substantially more successful in
encouraging custom.

lili had the ground veal kebab, which came with a salad
and an intriguing kamut pilaf. My eggplant and lamb was a
vegetable stew with a very scanty amount of lamb - plenty
of tomatoes, onions, and olive oil gave it flavor, and it
was very good despite the dearth of meat.

Baklava, which we split, was light on the nuts (bad) but
light on the syrup (good).

We were tempted by after-dinner drinks and coffee, but there
was still a liter of Marmara beer to be consumed back at our
place, and so to bed.