prosting =$

The thing here is this:

Alcohol costs a shitload.

Seriously last night I worked out – after I’d quaffed two through a straw the size of a hosepipe – seriously – that my mojitos – cost a whopping 50 Turkish Lira.

That’s R350 for two mojitos.

The mint was the freshest I’ve ever had; the views were panaromic and 360 degrees of a city that looks like Venice, only bigger and with mosques, and the men were hot.

But let’s not joke: because drinking here is not a joke.

But the drinks and view are earned – before anyone gets uptight. We are in back to back seminars from 8 to 6, and it’s hardcore. With dolmas and other meze stuff to eke us through.

(Dude. One restaurant offered Brain Salad. Full on bovine brains garnished with the obligatory lettuce leaves. Awesome. If you’re Hannibal, sure.)

Made a few interesting friends from the company here – most are from Israel, Russia and Turkey. They’re all really cool, and after the raki – local ouzo – the language barrier is only a secondary problem.

It’s all bout the body language end of the day anyway innit.

Got another of hardcore concentration, networking and work to do – and then tonight we will all rip the ring out of it in style along the banks of the Bosphorus.

Not shabby, and certainly feel very blessed to be here. Sun goes down so late and there’s sun. Real vitamin D. Pasty isn’t tasty, so I’m taking advantage.

They hustle though. Good God. We wanna buy a real makhoya hubbly bubbly from the grand bazaar – but thing is – just try getting a lower price. Storming the Bastille was easier.

You think it’s a hard sell at the Oriental Plaza, think again. These people don’t budge and will straight-faced tell you to fuck off if you offer them something cheaper than an hour at the Formula One.

You have to be firm. Have stopped barking at them like a dog when they hustle me to eat their half-priced brains though.

One street last night, this little cobbled alleyway filled with tables, seafood, people, snake charmers, the lot, they all grab onto you and try to get you into their restaurant. All at once. It’s hardcore.

And taxing to push them off. And that’s why, in case you wondered, I’ve taken to barking like a rabid dog to keep them at armslength.

Coffee’s staunch. Love the coffee here, it’s no cliché.