Category Archives: Meetings

Hail to England! Part 2.

For part 1, see here.

The championship begins
At one point all pipe smokers were placed at the benches so the BPSC could begin. Everyone was handed a zip lock bag with in it the championship pipe (made by Ian Walker), 3 grams of tobacco (Peterson Elizabethan Mixture), a pipe cleaner, a tamper, 2 matches and a card with the rules:

  1. 5 minutes to load pipe
  2. 2 x matches
  3. 1 minute to light pipe (after lighting all unused matches to be returned to the table judge)
  4. Only tamper while pipe is in mouth
  5. No blowing into the pipe to make smoke
  6. No drink till 10 minutes have lapsed
  7. You may be asked by the judge to make smoke
  8. Declare to the table judge when pipe has gone out
  9. When out please leave the arena

Rule nr. 4
We were specifically warned for rule nr. 4, since it often wreaks havoc amongst the contestants. Every table had a judge who kept his eye at us like an eagle. And so it began.. I filled my bowl with the proven press hard, press medium, press soft method. 1 match for the false light and 1 match to rule them all, I mean, 1 match for the true light. The whole tobacco surface was glowing and burning steadily. I tried to find a slow rhythmic breathing cadence to inhale through the pipe and exhale through my mouth. After about a minute suddenly our judge pointed at Peter. Apparently out of habit he had tamped the bowl outside his mouth thus breaking the dreaded rule nr. 4. The poor guy was gutted.. I tried to focus on my own smoking and it went well, until at 18 minutes my pipe went out without a warning.. I couldn’t believe it, it was going so well! Major bummer.. I ended up being 41st of 45 contestants with 18m 40s. Matron fared a bit better, 31st at 37m 20s. Overall winner was Reg Stevens with 1h 31m 55s. The female winner was Fiona Wells from the Yorkshire Pipe Club with 37m 45s. Impressive! At the prize ceremony it turned out that Peter wasn’t last, to his delight. The consolation prize was for Dan, no idea what he did wrong!

Matron, Helen and some couple

Nicotine overdose
When I lost I left the “arena” and looked around the main tent. Eldritch Pipes had an evil, gnarly looking prince, just my thing. If it had a black or black-red mouthpiece I would have bought it. What I did buy was a mini-pipe from Chris Askwith. It looked just like a regular briar pipe, but tiny! And totally smoke-able. When I had gotten myself an orange juice – soda I sat down with Peter and his girlfriend. Really lovely bloke, true KPC material! As we chatted along I saw Matron sitting together with the woman next to him. She sat a bit slumped and Matron was putting a wet towel on her neck. I walked to them and it turned out that Helen (her name) had a pretty severe case of nicotine poisoning. She already had threw up 4 times and was looking worse for wear.. Auwwtsch.. Being with the Scottish Coastguard Matron has a rule: never leave a sick person. So I provided them with some drinks so he could keep an eye out for her. Very sweet tea for Helen since sugar helps with an overdose of nicotine in your system. Slowly she recovered and we went inside the inn. We were sitting together with a couple who came from the same region as Helen. The guy was funny, when Matron shouted at him “Show me your pipe face!” he just looked a bit dumb. “Nono, show me your PIPE FACE! GRRRRR!!!!” Then he understood and showed us a proper piping facial expression.

Girls, girls, girls
I can’t write this blogpost without saying something about the wonderful British girls/women. I saw many on my trip, sometimes in outfits that swiftly moved the necks of men like the head of that exorcist girl. When we slowly drove through the busy traffic in Preston I suddenly spotted boys and girls in school uniforms walking on the sidewalks. I thought it was a thing from the past, that perhaps only the upper-upper schools still did it. But no. Boys in a neat looking uniform, girls also with a short skirt instead of pants, sometimes with knee-socks. Here in the increasingly prudish Netherlands (!) this would be a huge no-go. Such a shame. I know, I am a (dirty) middle aged man but I like to see the beautiful things in life. Just look, don’t touch, ok? When we drove at walking pace I saw 2 stunning schoolgirls in uniform strolling towards us. I must have been staring, which they saw and one of the girls (a blonde) waved at me and said “Hello!”. Which totally made my day. Another time was at the The King’s Lock after the championship. We were sitting inside, Matron, Helen and the couple with their backs to a window, me opposite being able to look through the glass. At the other side of the window was the field with the long side of a wooden bench perfectly aligned with our window. Some older girls were having a drink, when one decided to fully lay down on the sitting part of the bench with her legs towards me. She was wearing a short skirt and despite that she kept her shapely legs together I could see a small part of her underwear. Matron saw me suddenly staring with big eyes through the glass, but since he sat beside Helen I couldn’t tell him of my excellent view. Which got even better when the girl sat up again, opened her legs towards me and began casually adjusting her knickers showing me glimpses of her *ahem* shaven “heaven’s door”. When I finally told Matron he was gutted he missed it. Lastly, when Helen went home she gave me not 1 but 2 big hugs and a wet kiss in my neck. If I had been 20 years old my Spear of Satisfaction would have surely reared its ugly head. I think I might have developed a fetish for English women..

Matron enjoying his morning coffee

No patience..
The next morning it was Sunday, our last full day in England. Drinks & Bites at 35 wasn’t open so we had breakfast at another place in Middlewich. Where we could sit beside the canal and enjoy our food (not as good as the other place) and the view. But what to do after that… Matron came up with the idea of going to Lichfield and visit its ancient cathedral, perfect with me. It only was a 1 hour drive before we arrived. But where to park our vehicle? According to Matron England has a “car parking problem”. Which turned to be true when we got to the main parking area of Lichfield. Damn, it was very busy and totally full. Several cars, under which we, were like vultures hunting for a free space. If that was The Netherlands I would have parked my car illegally somewhere with crossed fingers. No patience. Which the English do have, because after 10 minutes Matron saw someone leaving and we could park.

The Green Man of Lichfield Cathedral
The Lichfield Cathedral (building years 1195-1340) was easily spotted. It is the only medieval cathedral in Great Britain with three towering spires. The front is a sight to behold with archaic figurines and ornaments sculpted from Mercian red sandstone. Inside we were greeted by a lovely old lady behind a desk. We chatted a bit with her, gave a small donation and received a folder of the cathedral in return. By no means am I a religious person, but I have to say that many fantastic buildings were erected by people of faith over the millennia. How they build the cathedral in the Middle Ages is a true riddle for me. Matron, also not in the least religious, especially likes the tranquillity in such places and, because he is an all-around handyman, methods of building. At one point he was constantly looking up. “What are you trying to see?” I asked. “The Green Man!” “The what?? Aliens?” “A Green Man is a motif in architecture and art featuring a face either composed of or entirely encircled by leaves, which typically radiates outward from the centre of the face. The Green Man is often interpreted as representing a pagan mythological figure. And they look like… There!” Matron pointed to a small face above us in the middle of other ones with indeed, leaves on its face. “Tricky to spot but very satisfying when you find one!” I agreed with him.

For whom the bells toll
After the cathedral visit we went to a nearby cafe/restaurant that I spotted on the way. I think at one point it was a grand villa that was now re-used. Behind it was a large and lush garden where you could sit and enjoy a lunch, beverage and a good smoke. We all did that. At one point the bells of the cathedral began to ring. Very beautiful but after one hour (!) of it we decided to leave. On the way back to the car we encountered a small candy shop. I couldn’t resist buying some old world typical British candies (advised by Matron and the store-lady) and a selection of Dutch liquorice. I know that non-Dutch folks don’t like our salt liquorice at all, so being a bit of a bastard I offered Matron a piece. Presuming he was going to gag and spit it out, payback for the pickled egg. Sadly he loved it and ate them all..

Oh curry my curry
Back in Middlewich it was time for the last dinner in England. I wanted a savoury typical British pie or an Indian curry. Faith decided for us because the kitchens of both places who had the pies were closed. Indian it was going to be so we went to the only restaurant there where you could sit down and eat. The other Indian restaurant was only a takeaway. Here Matron was a good guide in deciding which dishes to take. As the appetiser-appetiser we had some papadam with all kinds of dip sauces. Hmmm, yummie! Then I had a selection of appetisers and Matron had… I forgot.. My main meal was the classic chicken tikka masala, recommended by both Matron and the waiter. Really yummie! A kind of sweet curry that hit all the right spots.

The scared kitten
After dinner we visited the White Bear Inn, with some covered places outside where we could sit down. To my surprise they had alcohol-free Guinness, yes please! However, what pained me was the friendly but skinny and haggard looking young waitress. When the computer didn’t properly work and she had difficulties with the pull tab of the Guinness can she stressed a lot. I calmly told her to relax but she looked like a scared kitten. When Matron and I were outside smoking she came by to say it was cool we smoked pipes. She also smoked a pipe. “But not for tobacco, for something else, right?” Matron said. To which she rather painfully nodded. I really hope she pulls things together. It’s a tough world and sadly especially the young seem to fall by the wayside more and more.

Back at Schiphol Airport

Luckily not a terrorist attack on my birthday
Monday May 13th was my birthday! Not that I had any intention of celebrating it. I don’t like birthdays, never did. Also not other person’s birthdays. Especially family birthdays. Sitting with a lot of people who you don’t really like in a small room. No thank you. I was glad Matron knew this so luckily he didn’t wake me up with a boisterous version of “happy birthday”. For our last breakfast of the trip we went again to Drinks & Bites at 35 *guttural sound of pure pleasure again*. Afterwards Matron dropped me off early at Manchester Airport (kiss & ride £5!!!) because he had to drive all the way to Scotland that day. We hugged and I thanked him for everything. It had been such a fun trip together and we had some very good and deep conversations. At the airport I grabbed my e-reader and headphones and immersed myself in the book I was reading. Until I suddenly saw everyone leaving the hall. Uhrr, what? When I put off my headphones I could hear an announcer saying we all had to quickly evacuate the hall and listen to the staff. F*ck me, I thought, probably some terrorist attack, on my f*cking birthday! I went to another hall and half an hour later the announcer apologised for a drill gone wrong.. So fortunately I arrived on time in The Netherlands where my sweet Ellen was waiting for me. Back home I thought about Bob’s words; “Come here, it will be fun, fine pipes, good tobacco, good food, good drinks, lots of girls and you know the sun always shines here!” I’ll be d*mned, he wasn’t lying!

Many thanks to Bob and Ian and all the volunteers for organising the British Pipe Smoking Championship, they did an excellent job! Also a big thank you to Sergeant Matron, the best roommate, friend and guide one can wish for. And oh, I heard the BPSC date for 2025 is May 10th. Be there or be ■.

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Hail to England! Part 1.

“It will be fun!” he said…
At the end of last year Bob Gregory (formerly the Managing Director of Samuel Gawith) was nagging me to get my ass over to England. Why? Well, because even in his old age and slightly demented state he was organising the British Pipe Smoking Championship (BPSC). Together with English pipe-maker Ian Walker. “Come here, it will be fun, fine pipes, good tobacco, good food, good drinks, lots of girls and you know the sun always shines here!” Bob exclaimed. I had my doubts about some of his words, but then I heard that my old chap, Sergeant Matron of the Kearvaig Pipe Club (KPC), also was coming. And even better, on his way from Scotland to the South he could pick me up at Manchester airport and drive us to the quaint town of Middlewich (already baptised “Middlebitch”, by Matron). The heart and home of the BPSC. So I said “yes”, I will come. Being as organised as he is, Matron also took care of lodgings. We were staying at the local Travelodge.

Sadly going by Spitfire wasn’t possible, I had to do it with Sleasyjet..

Too early..
At freaking 05:30AM my alarm clock went off on Friday May 10th. Ughhh…. What do normal people do at this time?? I asked myself while groggily walking to the bathroom. After a hot shower I felt a bit better and was looking forward to the trip and thought like: Ha! The quest for the ultimate pipe smoking price on the scarred fields of Middlewich finally begins! I will have to conquer the great metal beast on the flat lands, fly with the iron bird over the deepest seas to the ancient kingdom, slay many fuming dragons, but in the end the virgin leaf will be mine! So I got on the train, the most nerve wrecking part of the journey. Will it be on time or not? Will it have a delay or not? You never know in The Netherlands.. Thankfully it was on time and with a sigh of relief I entered Schiphol Airport.

They took me knife!
Sadly the relief only lasted until I got to customs, where my luggage was checked. Being a pipe smoker, you always get picked out because the x-ray folks think you are carrying illegal items. In this case, my cigar cutter and pocket knife. After I explained to the customs woman how a cigar cutter works by nearly slicing off the tip of her finger she took my knife. I know the rules, the blade can be no longer than 6cm. But she held it against some card for measurements and said she had to confiscate it because it was 0.5cm too long… What?? “Normally you don’t have an issue with something being half a centimetre too long..” I muttered to the woman. At which point I was taken away for a thorough strip search by a big man called Bubba.. No, only kidding, but I lost my knife! Grumpily I entered the plane. Fortunately the flight went well (except for that there should be a place in hell for parents who bring their little crying children along) and when I saw my old friend Matron with open arms waiting for me at Manchester Airport all was forgotten.

My Smoking Shop
After paying a hefty parking fee of £20(!!!) we went on our way to Preston, in the opposite direction of Middlewich. Because I arrived early and we couldn’t go into the Travelodge yet, Matron proposed a visit to the famous My Smoking Shop in Preston. By all means, fine by me! When we arrived and went in we expected the shop to be a bit bigger. Nonetheless we were impressed, mostly by the array of British made tobaccos. I swear Matron was getting a hard one by seeing all the smoke-able goodies before him. Sadly, very sadly they didn’t have much J.F. Germain offerings. I was hoping to score some Rich Dark Flake, but apparently My Smoking Shop only had 2 Germain deliveries in the past 12 months. Both without Rich Dark Flake.. Bummer! So I went for some mouthwatering Gawith & Hoggarth Westmoreland Slices, Dark Flake and the excellent Irish Brown Twist. Also I needed a new knife to cut my tobacco. The nice lady behind the counter came up with a good looking Joseph Rodgers 3 in 1 Gentleman’s Smokers Knife. Made from genuine Sheffield steel, Rodgers (founded in 1724) still produces the finest quality knives, ensuring excellence in every aspect of production, from materials to craftsmanship. I immediately loved it so bought it.

“It will only be a small walk there…”
I tested out my new smokers knife at the nearby terrace of a cafe. Worked like a charm! I had an alcohol-free beer while Matron was drinking something I didn’t know: an orange juice – soda mix. Typical English I guess. I tried it, loved it and had many more during the whole trip. After a delightful smoke we drove to Middlewich and checked into the Travelodge. It was nearing dinner time and Matron thought it was a good idea to eat some proper fish & chips at The King’s Lock Inn, the venue for the pipe smoking championship. “It will only be a small walk there.” Matron said. Famous last words.. He got lost (and the freaking internet didn’t work..) and when we asked a local man for directions he had a big laugh at us twits and said we were some miles away.. Thankfully in the end we got there and it didn’t disappoint.

Fish & chips with mashed peas

“Try it, it will be nice.”
The King’s Lock is a nice rustic old pub alongside a canal suited for narrowboats. In front is a field with some wooden benches where we sat down. At the back the tents for the pipe smoking championship were already erected. Opposite the pub at the other side of the canal is the best fish & chips shop of Middlewich (according to many): Kings Lock Fish & Chips. Which was underlined by the long row before the door. Matron asked me what I wanted and I answered: fish & chips as British as possible. When he came back he had some food-boxes and other things with him. For me he had gotten fried haddock with chips (fries) mixed with mashed peas and salt and vinegar on top. For himself he had fries with a curry sauce. But before delving into the main course he had an appetiser for me: a pickled egg. A peeled hard-boiled egg with a bit of a sour smell. “Try it, it will be nice.” the bastard said. I took a big bite and…. UGHHHH!!!! It was so sour all my facial muscles contracted, to the great amusement of Matron. Apparently it is something you eat after a night of hard drinking. From my experience I think you will go from drunk to sober in a split second. Of course I didn’t give in and ate the whole damned thing. Afterwards the fish & chips (despite looking like someone’s stomach contents) tasted heavenly. Great Britain had redeemed itself from the foul junk fish & chips in Jedburgh.

“Sorry, he comes from the Netherlands, he doesn’t know better.”
Saturday May 11th was the date of the BPSC. It started at 11 o’clock so Matron and I had plenty of time for a good breakfast. You have to lay a good foundation for a day of smoking right? On Google Maps we found a nice looking place called “Drinks & Bites at 35“. Matron went for the obligatory beans on toast. Beans in the morning?? No thank you.. I ordered “Eggs at 35”; scrambled eggs with smoked salmon, cream cheese and 2 slices of toast. I was keen to try the famous black pudding so added one of those. The lady at the counter looked weird at the request, so Matron responded with “Sorry, he comes from the Netherlands, he doesn’t know better.” The meal was utterly, utterly delicious. Every aspect prepared to perfection. To top it off I had a slice of home made lemon drizzle cake.. *guttural sound of pure pleasure* Best cake ever!

The BPSC venue
Matron dropped me off at the The King’s Lock and went back to the hotel because I (stupidly) didn’t bring my pipe bag. The venue was in essence a field with tents and benches. Upon entering I was immediately warmly greeted by Bob Gregory. We hugged and both were very pleased to see each other. “Come, I’ll introduce you to everyone. Here now lads, this is Arno, The Dutch Pipe Smoker, all the way from The Netherlands!” Bob exclaimed to a group of mostly young pipe smokers with dashing matching shirts. It turned out to be the Yorkshire Pipe Club. I had barely shaken everyone’s hands before Bob dragged me along to the big tent, where all the exhibitors, pipe-makers, tobacco-sellers were. Where it went something like this: “Arno, this is…..” *shake hands* *bit of small talk* “Let’s go!” “Arno, this is…..” *shake hands* *bit of small talk* “Let’s go!” etc. I snapped some pictures and promised to return later. Finally Bob dropped me off at the Yorkshire Pipe Club table. What a lovely bunch they are! Very passionate and knowledgeable. I spoke a lot with founder & chairman Dan about the current smoking regulations in both Great Britain and The Netherlands. It was quite a shock for him to hear the current bleak situation in my home country where tobacco is even more expensive than in the United Kingdom. I also shook hands with president Jim Boyle, who I know, but didn’t recognise.. Sorry Jim! And chaps, if you read this and ever need help when visiting The Netherlands or Belgium, let me know!

Perhaps “The Piped Peter” is a good bothy name for him?

Peter our saviour
Matron had also arrived and slowly we got ready for the main event. Only, we had a small problem.. We were there as the KPC but teams needed a minimum of 3 persons. No worries, Bob had the solution in the form of Peter the pipe smoker who would join our exalted ranks. We immediately hit it off with Peter who was quite nervous since it was his first pipe smoking championship. Join the club lad, it is also our first time! We are all virgins here! He was present with his charming multilingual wife girlfriend who even could speak a little bit of Dutch! “I really hope I don’t go out first..” Peter muttered. Almost famous last words!

Stay tuned for part 2 and find out about the championship results, a nicotine overdose, English girls, an ancient cathedral and a possible terrorist attack.

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Hospitable Heukelum 2019

This is a video impression of the Dutch/Belgian Pijprokers Forum meeting in Heukelum, October 2019. Sorry about the shaky contents, I made the clips with my mobile phone. If you have any tips about recording and editing videos (I just started learning Adobe Premiere), please let me know!

The eternal city on two continents: Istanbul, part 2

See here for part 1.

Day 4
This day was going to be special. Before we left I searched on the internet if there was a pipe smoking club in Istanbul and to my delight I found one, İstanbul Pipo Derneği (Istanbul Pipe Club). I mailed to them and asked if there was anywhere I could buy some tobacco and pipes and if it was possible to meet up somewhere. Soon I got a reply from Mr. Turgay Ocak who turned out to be the founder of the club. He answered that no pipe tobacco is sold in Istanbul because off all kinds of government regulations but that I was welcome to smoke some pipes with them. We arranged a date and time. The location, I later found out, was at a pipe shop called Pipo Market based in Perpa, a huge trading centre near the Beyoğlu district. And guess who is the owner of that shop: Turgay. At the beginning of the afternoon Ellen had her own program (mainly walking through the city) and I had to take a cab to Perpa. When I was there all I had to do was app Turgay and he would come and fetch me. But the ride was a rough one. I just had stepped in the taxi and the driver took off at breakneck speed through the wobbly, windy streets of Sultanahmet. I have been in Cairo where the cab drivers also can ride like crazy so it was not a big surprise. The thing was that I got carsick.. It only was 8.5 km but man, when you are feeling very ill that is a long way, especially in twisting Istanbul with a Max Verstappen wannabe at the steering wheel. Just when I was about to spill the contents of my stomach over the leather taxi interior we thankfully arrived. I sat down on a low wall before the Perpa entrance for 5 minutes, just slowly breathing, before I apped Turgay.

Part of Turgay’s shop

Soon I was picked up by Turgay and another IPC member. First of all, even with Dutch names I am bad in remembering them, let alone foreign ones. So sorry! Anyway, now I understood why I had to app, Perpa is one big giant maze. I could have wandered aimlessly there for hours without finding the shop. Soon we were there, a surprisingly nice looking medium sized store with lots of pipes, especially corncobs and Italian brands. And indeed no tobacco at first sight except for some cigars. All the tins I did saw were empty and hung on the walls or were standing in displays as decoration. The shop has 2 rooms, the main store and one with couches which functions as the IPC hideout where other members sat. One of the first things that I was shown were all the medals that Turgay won. It turned out that he is a competition pipe smoker and a damn good one, top of the world! He asked me if I knew Cornelius from the Dutch Federation for Pipe Smokers. I explained that I have met the man on one or two occasions but that I am not a member, I don’t do competition pipe smoking. I am a member of the Dutch/Belgian Pipe Smokers Forum, who only are active on internet and on some meetings.

Looking into the IPC room

When I was sitting down I was offered some water and coffee, which was very welcome because I still felt a but queasy from the car sickness. I had a brought a gift with me for the IPC, which I presented them: a tin of Samuel Gawith Flatlander Flake. Which was received very well. I discovered that Samuel Gawith almost has a godlike status at the IPC. Everyone has friends abroad who send tins of the old English brand or bring them in the country themselves. Especially the flakes are popular, Balkan Flake, Navy Flake, St. James Flake etc. Turgay and the others also had some gifts for me. First of all a beautiful Sultan meerschaum pipe! Wow! Further I got a mug, button and bag all printed with the IPC logo. Thank you again so very much!!!

Bosphorus Balkan Flake

I was just thinking what I should smoke when one of the members put a tin before me I did not know, Bosphorus Balkan Flake. Hmm, Virginia, latakia and Turkish orientals, interesting! It was opened and smelled delicious. I put it in my pipe and started smoking. Very, very nice but whoah, a real nicotine bomb. I said I was confused because I thought no pipe tobacco was made or sold in Turkey. Well, it turned out that there is a guy in Istanbul (later I found out his name is Birol Salman if I am correct. I tried to contact him but sadly to no avail) who makes these Bosphorus tobaccos with mainly ingredients from Turkish soil. For example the Turkish oriental is called Adiyaman. A name which rang a bell inside my head. Pipe smoking friend Kees used to go to Turkey on holiday many times and on such an occasion he brought some Adiyaman with him of which I got a sample. And indeed, from what I could remember was that Adiyaman packs a vitamin N punch. Turgay and the others said that some tobaccos also came from Syria. Huh? I thought that because of the war nothing came from there. Nono, in the North there is no war so tobaccos is grown there according to them. Interesting.. About my story of Cyprian latakia made in the Izmir region and then shipped to the Turkish part of Cyprus they were not sure, it could be.

The rest of the afternoon was spend chatting, smoking and looking at all the wares in the store. Damn, they even had an estate Lord of the Rings Aragorn and Gimli pipe! Just when my belly started to grumble I was kindly invited to have dinner with them. Just before we left I luckily was able to buy some Bosphorus tobacco tins, the Balkan Flake I already had, Navy Flake and English Mixture. I could ride with Turgay and another member to the restaurant they picked. In order to get to the car we had to walk through a traditional Turkish market. Busy as hell but no tourists, a real sight! The restaurant called Olimpiyat turned out to be beautifully located beside the Bosphorus near the Galata bridge with stunning views over the water and Hagia Sophia. Turgay had reserved a large table on one of the upper floors and the best thing was, we could smoke there. Some more IPC members joined us (who spoke English). I had also brought some real Dutch De Olifant Brasil cigars with me which I handed out and were eagerly accepted. Soon all kinds of delicious appetizers were served under which samphire/picklegrass, something I never had but tasted great on toast with some Turkish cheese.

To drink I had to try one of the national beverages, rakı. At first I kindly declined (I had not eaten much at that point) but no, I had to drink it. So a generous amount was poured in my glass, then some some water and ice-cubes (always in that order!). It reminded me of the Greek ouzo, also anise-flavoured, yummie! After the appetizers Turgan asked me what I liked to eat. Wel, uhmm.. Something typical Turkish, I answered. We all got pieces of lamb meat which tasted very good. But during the interesting conversations about all kinds of subjects and after my second glass of rakı the alcohol really started to hit me. Hmm, that is strange, I thought, I am used to Dutch jenever which has an alcohol percentage of 35%. That rakı can never have more than 30%. So I asked for the bottle and saw to my horror and the amusement of the members that it was 45%! While laughing they poured in another glass. Let’s say I don’t remember much of the rest of the evening except that suddenly my understanding of the Turkish language became much better. Especially Turgay had some hilarious stories about his endeavours during the pipe smoking championships all over the world. At the end of the evening the inevitable bill came. I fetched my wallet but no, I was their guest. So very friendly and hospitable, thank you! Seeing me in my inebriated state they also decided to drop me off at my hotel. Once we got there I hugged the old Turgay like we had been friends forever and thanked him for a splendid day.

Day 5
After a good night’s rest I felt reinvigorated. Which was good because we were going to visit the beautiful Princes’ Islands, to be precise Heybeliada. Together with Ozan from the hotel reception we looked at the best options to get there. Which was to go by tram to the ferry boat terminal of Eminönü and there take the public ferry. Public transport costs almost nothing in Istanbul, for the two of us the round trip was about €3.. Earlier we had bought an Istanbul Card which works as an all-around public transport boarding pass, very handy. Going to and finding the correct ferry was surprisingly easy. On the large boat we went upstairs and sat outside at the stern. All around us were Turkish families with children who clearly went for a day out. The trip to the Islands was very enjoyable. There was constant “entertainment” from salesmen and women and there was a guy selling simit bread, which we took, very yummie. When we arrived at Heybeliada we wanted to hire some bikes. All the Princes’ Islands are car-free and despite the presence of the traditional horse and cart we were advised (I heard from the IPC members that the horses are ill-treated..) not to take those. Soon we had our bikes and started climbing. I thought there was only a bit of it but man, it was more hilly than I expected. Out of breath we were glad when the road starting going down.

After an hour of biking we decided we had seen enough (the island is pretty small) and head back to get some lunch at a seaside restaurant. When we got there some tout tried to lure us in. Normally I walk past restaurants who have that kind of people but we were hungry and thirsty. Sadly I can’t remember the name of the place.. Immediately he started to push the sea-bass dish; fresh, fresh! To convince me he took me to the kitchen where he showed me the actual fish. All alarm-bells rung in my head because the eyes and skin of the fish looked dull, an indicator that freshness has long past. We should have walked away then but foolish me opted for a different fish dish. Ellen was smarter and took the köfte meatballs. Afterwards Ellen wanted some ice-cream, there was a seaside café which sold it so we sat down there. While Ellen enjoyed her ice I got some shooting pains in my stomach. Oh oooh… Despite that the trip back with the ferry went smooth, except for one incident. When the boat wanted to moor at one of the jetties of the islands something happened and it started rocking sideways. The motion only grew stronger up to the point we were or going to capsize or smash into the pier. The deck below almost made water, everyone was holding on and big waves were splashing over the pier, making the people wet who could not get away fast enough. Just as I was seriously contemplating jumping off the ship the captain got it back under control. Phewww, everyone laughed nervously. The rest of the journey there were no incidents until someone started to shout and point to the sea. Jeeeez, what now? Someone fell overboard? No, he pointed at a wonderful sight: dolphins! Just magical! Less enchanting was the night, the shooting pains in my stomach worsened and I spent a lot of time on the toilet. No further details.

The things I got from the Istanbul Pipe Club

Day 6
In the morning thankfully my stomach felt a little bit better. Good, because we were going home. After breakfast Ozan called a cab, we thanked him and the wonderful, friendly hotel staff and went on our way. The taxi ride to the airport was amusing because the driver had another, much larger, car horn build in which he was not afraid to use. In the plane I had a precarious moment when I was on the toilet (my stomach acted up again). That space is so damn small so when I pulled up my pants I hit some emergency button with one of my body parts. Immediately the crew knocked on the door. “Sir! sir! are you ok??” “Yes I am, I am!” I shouted while I hastily tried to make myself look decent before they would smash the door. Luckily the train ride home went smooth. All by all Istanbul had been an amazing experience. We met so many nice people (and sadly less nice ones too) there. But it is such an enormous city that I felt we only scraped the surface. Also I expected more of a Cairo experience but Istanbul is less rough around the edges, cleaner and more European. I will be glad to come back one day to see more of it and all the sights that were under renovation now.

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The eternal city on two continents: Istanbul, part 1

© CartoonStock

For this year’s vacation Ellen and I were supposed to go to beautiful Burgundy, France. Already in January I rented a nice, rustic holiday house there where I (of course) could smoke inside. About a week before leaving I took a look at several weather websites and was not amused. Auwtsch, it was going to be rainy every day in Burgundy and even colder than in The Netherlands… I told Ellen and immediately her face became like the weather it was going to be. I don’t mind sitting inside somewhere for a week. There was a hearth, I could smoke, read etc. But Ellen needs to be able to go out, take long walks and she hates rain. Later that day she sneered that in Seville (where we have been before) it was going to be sunny and warm. Ok, that did it for me. I cancelled the holiday house and went searching for a location where the weather would be better. Seville was an option but we had been there before (twice) and the flight times were very inconvenient. Then I thought about a place I always wanted to visit, the eternal city on two continents (Europe and Asia), formerly known as Byzantium and Constantinople: Istanbul. It ticked all the boxes. It was going to be sunny and warm there, lots of things to do and see (after all I have a love for the (romantic) Middle East) and the flight was not too long. Ellen immediately said yes when I proposed it.

© Tobaccoreviews

Day 1
In the train on the way to Schiphol Airport I closed my eyes and imagined I was on the once famous Orient Express. Which got me slightly annoyed because the evening before I had turned my tobacco closet upside down in order to find a tin of Cornell & Diehl Star of the East Flake (with beautiful artwork of the Orient Express with mosques on the background) I thought I had to take with me. Sadly I could not locate it so instead I went for a tin of Sutliff Bosphorus Cruise. Also very fitting. In the plane I already got in the Middle Eastern mood. Ellen and I were sitting in the same row but the seat in the middle of us was taken by a very handsome young Muslim woman, wearing elegant clothes and a headscarf. When we were up high in the blue sky the sun was scorching the aircraft, it became hotter inside. Suddenly the woman began taking off her first layer of clothing and then even a second. Out of respect I did not plainly look but in the corner of my eye I could see she was doing it in a way so that she retained her dignity as a Muslimah. She even did not remove her headscarf! And her odour.. She smelled like exotic spices mixed with only a hint of musky sweat. I am a bit ashamed to say this but it almost was an erotic experience. Later she fell asleep practically against my shoulder, so sweet.

View from the roof terrace of the Dersaadet Hotel

When we arrived at Sabiha Gökçen Airport the best option to go to the hotel was to get a taxi. Sadly Turkish cab drivers are well known to try to scam foreigners. I wished there was an app like the Bluebird one I had in Bali where you could order a taxi, see which driver you were going to get, afterwards leave a review and get a mail in which you saw the route you drove and the amount of money you paid. We took the first cab we saw and crossed our fingers. Luckily taxis in Turkey are not expensive. The starting tariff is 4.50 Turkish Lira (± €0.65) and per km 2.50 Lira (± €0.35). I very roughly knew the route we had to take, the E80 highway to Istanbul, about 1 hour and 50 km to the hotel. After almost 1.5 hours, 73 km and going over some toll-road (which we of course also had to pay) we finally arrived at our destination: Hotel Dersaadet. Which I had picked because of good ratings/reviews and the central location in Sultanahmet, the old city. At the reception desk my foul mood about the cab-ride disappeared like a puff of smoke. We were welcomed warmly with a hot glass of apple flavoured çay (tea) and some Turkish delight sweets. If I had any stress left it went away when I later smoked a pipe on the panoramic roof terrace of the hotel with stunning views of the Sea of Marmara and the Asian side of Istanbul.

Hippodrome

Day 2
We had a busy but exciting day ahead of us since we were going to visit some of the major old “highlights” of the city. Normally a long time before the trip I would have read everything I could find about the subjects in such a way that I was able to almost professionally guide Ellen and myself through them. But now I only had less than a week and besides, I am on holiday, come on, no need to extra pressure my brain there. So before we left via a tip from the hotel I booked a private tour guide for a day, the charming miss Didem Tan. We met in the morning in the hotel and she said “You are a rare breed nowadays. Very few Dutch come here now. These days it are more Russians and Asian people.” Which could be correct because on the streets we heard a lot of Russian and saw many Asians. The reason I kept more or less before me, politics is not a nice subject.. First on the to-go list was the ancient Hippodrome which is now called Sultanahmet Meydanı (Sultan Ahmet Square). Only a few fragments survive today under which the mighty Obelisk of Theodosius, the stripped Walled Obelisk and the mysterious Serpent Column, brought from the Temple of Apollo in Delphi. We came to Istanbul during Ramadan so the square was covered with wooden benches and tables where people could enjoy the iftar (the evening meal with which Muslims end their daily Ramadan fast) at sunset. Next was the Sultan Ahmed Mosque, better known as the Blue Mosque. I was really looking forward seeing it having recently watched the Turkish Netflix The Protector series where you see some great shots of the breathtaking building. Sadly the outside and especially the inside were under heavy renovation which totally killed any magical vibe. Almost nothing from the beautifully decorated ceiling and walls could be seen.

Hagia Sophia

For me one of the highlights of the trip was seeing and visiting the magnificent Hagia Sophia. When I was a boy I had art class on high school and one of the subjects was architecture. There I heard the story of the building and saw pictures, which totally mesmerized me. Some of the perks of having a licensed private guide in Istanbul is than you can bypass waiting queues, which speeds up the process of visiting something tremendously. We were quickly inside and one of the first things you see is the large Emperor Door, which is said to have been made out of wood from Noah’s Ark, with above it a brilliant mosaic of Christ as Pantocrator. Then when you go over the molten wax looking doorstep you walk into the jaw-dropping building’s main space. Famous for its dome, huge nave, marble pillars (some come from the Temple of Artemis, one of the Seven Wonders of the Ancient World), gold mosaics and coverings of great artistic value. In fact it is so richly and artistically decorated (I also loved the two large alabaster Hellenistic urns that were transported from Pergamon) that I could easily understand why emperor Justinian proclaimed: “Solomon, I have outdone thee!” I won’t go further into describing Hagia Sophia, you just will have to see it for yourself. You won’t be disappointed.

Imperial Hall

Next on the list was the subterranean Basilica Cistern, which you can know from movies like From Russia with Love and Inferno. Normally you can see the mysterious mirror reflection of the 336 columns in the water but due to an ongoing renovation it was all dry.. Luckily the eerie, dark atmosphere, otherworldly Hen’s Eye column and the Medusa head column bases made up for it. Our bellies grumbled a bit so it was time for lunch. Didem directed us to the famous Pudding Shop (Lale Restaurant) where we had an ok meal. Personally I thought the food was not that great and the price was on the high side. Soon we were off to the last and biggest stop of the day, the enormous Topkapı Palace, the main residence and administrative headquarters of the Ottoman sultans. Having seen Muslim architecture at the Alcázar of Seville, Mezquita of Córdoba and the Alhambra in Granada (Ok, all examples of Moorish architecture, not Ottoman architecture, but nonetheless..) my expectations were almost off the scale. Skilfully we were guided by Didem through the vast complex. Renovation seemed to be a keyword here also because parts of the Harem and Imperial Treasury were closed. Damned, I really wanted to see the famous Topkapı Dagger, the ebony, walnut and gold-plated thrones, the valuable Spoonmaker’s Diamond etc. etc. Oh well.. Despite that there was more than enough to look at. Like the Pipe Room of the Tressed Halberdiers (consisting both of servants used to provide general services to the palace and the Harem and of soldiers forming a part of the sultan’s household troop) where puppets with chibouk pipes were placed. Of course the Imperial Hall was impressive with all the beautiful decorations under which blue-white Dutch ceramics. One of the strangest rooms was where the relics were kept. There the Qur’an was being recited continuously by a mufti and you went like “Oh, there’s Moses’s Staff, and there David’s Sword, oh, a footstep, tooth and hair from Muhammad!” It all felt a bit unreal walking past those legendary relics.

A very rare sight, Ellen smoking!

After the tour we were knackered but satisfied, Didem did a great job. Later that evening we went out or dinner. One of the downsides of being in the heart of the tourist district is that there are many (often foreigner catered) places to eat who range from “mwah” to “ok”. A good one is hard to find and an excellent one, well, don’t make me laugh. Ellen and I walked some streets away from our hotel when on a corner we saw a nice looking restaurant with a small terrace beside it called Lale Sultan. Being tired from a day of sightseeing we decided to look no further and sit down there. And boy that was a good choice! The owner Mehmet and staff were friendly and with everything we ate we had something like, whoah, that’s tasty! On top of that we got a free dessert, çay and a trinket that wards off the evil eye. Needless to say that most of the other nights we went there. Afterwards I wanted to go for a nargile (waterpipe). Just past the Lale Sultan there was a café where we could sit, drink and smoke. It took a while for the staff to prepare the nargile but then I was in for some Middle Eastern smoking heaven. And not only me, even Ellen enjoyed it a while, a rare sight! Smoking a nargile is not that different from smoking a pipe. Once you get into a rhythm the (apple-flavoured) smoke comes evenly. After an hour of smoking I felt the nicotine creep up and we decided to go. Apparently an hour was a short time because when we had walked away I looked back and saw the staff enjoying the nargile I paid for. Oh well…

View from the boat

Day 3
The weather was a bit more clouded but ideal for a Bosphorus cruise! Ilhan from the hotel reception had it arranged together with me, very handy. I don’t like boats (seeing a boat passing by already makes me seasick) but Ilhan assured me it would be ok. At the end of the morning we were picked up by a small bus with other tourists, mainly noisy Russians all wearing the same “Istanbul” shirt. At the harbour we waited for the boat until we heard some music in the distance which quickly grew louder. It turned out to be our ship with hip Turkish techno music blasting at full volume out of the speakers. So far for my romantic idea of a quiet Bosphorus cruise. On the boat the noise luckily was turned down and the guide took over. With a funny accent he told us all about the sights we saw on the river banks. And I have to say, it was a relaxed trip, no sea sickness and the breeze was refreshing. There also was a photographer who took pictures of all the passengers. I got a bit suspicious (Didem told us that Turks never actually steal your money but certainly try to hustle it out of you) but Ellen thought it was fun. So to the amusement of an elderly Asian couple beside us (I already noticed in Bali that for some reason Asians find my fat bald head hilarious) we posed in all kind of manners.

View from Rumelihisarı fortress

After a while we moored at a jetty so we could visit the mighty Rumelihisarı fortress. The complex was commissioned in preparation for a planned Ottoman siege on the then-Byzantine city and build in only 4 months and 16 days. All by all it was nice to see and after some climbing the views were very good but to me it was not really noteworthy. Back in the boat the photographer approached us again. In the time that we visited Rumelihisarı he had printed out all the pictures he took and put them in a book which he gave us to see and moved to the other tourists. The photos were good but not that good that I would buy one. So I quickly took some snapshots of them with my smartphone. Later when the photographer came back I understood that 1 picture would cost us €7. €7!!! I can have a full meal for that money in Istanbul! I declined and did not feel like bargaining. But he had seen me taking pictures of the photographs and insisted I deleted those from my phone. Which I did, I showed it to him. What he did not know was that after I delete a picture it is saved for 30 days on my phone. Hah! I hustled the hustler! Don’t feel sad for the man, he sold many pictures to the noisy (and quickly getting pissed drunk) Russians. In the end when we had some more time to look at the snapshots we did not like a single one and I permanently deleted them all.

One of the entrances to the Grand Bazaar

When the cruise was done we were dropped off near the Spice Bazaar. In one of the streets there we had a tasty lunch consisting of a dürüm filled with döner kebab and some veggies and my first Türk kahvesi (Turkish coffee) of the trip. After that we went looking for the enormous Grand Bazaar because I wanted to buy some Meerschaum pipes. Finding the “covered market” is not too hard, just go towards the omnipresent Süleymaniye Mosque and almost directly beside it the bazaar is located. It was a weekday, Ramadan, but still the narrow streets and alleyways were bristling with activity. I had found a Meerschaum Pipe shop in the bazaar on internet but navigating there was a different story. I discovered that Google Maps did not really work in the covered market..

Looking at some Meerschaum pipes

After some walking and watching at all kinds of displayed wares I knew I was getting close. One of the salesmen saw I was looking for something and approached me so I asked him where the Meerschaum shop was. “Aaahhh, Meerschaum! Over there!” He pointed to a nearby small shop, basically a glass desk with some glass shelves behind it all filled with indeed, Meerschaum pipes. Not the one I was looking for but ok. When I asked Didem before about buying things in the bazaar she said to first compares prices if you wanted to buy something. Fine, I was not going to purchase anything there, I was just going to ask how much the pipes were. I had to buy 2, one for myself and another for pipe-smoking friend Mark who knew I was going to the Grand Bazaar. The salesman showed me some fine high quality block Meerschaum examples and I picked out 2. One beautifully decorated with a silver rim for me and one “golf-ball lookalike” for Mark. He gave me a price, saw my face and immediately made a “special” price. I calculated a bit in my head and thought “Fine, I now roughly now the prices.” I thanked the not so happy man (no one likes to see a customer go) and said I was going to look elsewhere.

The two Meerschaum pipes I bought with the tin of Bosphorus Cruise

A few turns later I finally found the shop I was looking for, but no one was there. The guy opposite it had the number of the salesman and called him. Soon he came and let me see his pipes. Some were very beautiful but all or too big or too small. In the end he smiled and asked me to follow him. “Ok, probably we go to his storeroom or something like that.” I thought. After some more turns I had to laugh out loud because he led me, and was pointing at, the first shop I visited where the salesman was grinning diabolically. Of course I had to then haggle down his “special” price. After a while of going back and forth I gave him my final amount. Nonono, I can’t do that, thisthatsuchandsuch etc. Fine, I shook his hand again and walked away. “Hooo!” I heard behind me “When I shake hands with someone that means the deal is done, I accept your price.” Yesssss!!! While feeling high from the bargain I was almost literally pulled in the shop of another vendor, his business was scarves. By chance I was looking for a light, summer one. I am not sure what happened then, it is all a bit blurry, but in the end I walked away with an in my eyes  beautiful scarf and an annoyed Ellen who said I paid way too much and that I should have listened to her…

Click here for part 2 in which I visit the Istanbul Pipe Club.

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