Looking for Olivium

When we were on the train the other day we noticed an interesting looking building, and we decided we would come back later and check it out.


There it is, the big round glass building with "Olivium" on top.
I found out on the internet that Olivium is an "outlet centre", shopping mall, and has some cinemas. And it also said that this building was in Zeytinburnu.

So today, with no classes, we got on the train ... and when we got to Zeytinburnu, only two stops down, we got off again. We hadn't been able to see the shopping centre from the train, but we nevertheless headed off where we thought it would be.

Interesting area, Zeytinburnu. Nice wide mall (walking street, as they call it in China) - not as crowded or as narrow as our Bakırköy main street. We had a lovely walk around, enjoyed the sights and the shops. Then we decided we had hopped off too early, and so we got back on the train.

We are confident that we can usually blend in fairly well in this community. But not today, we seemed to be wearing "tourist / foreigner" badges. As we got onto the train we were immediately surrounded by a group of three or four very excitable teenage girls who squealed and giggled as they practised their minimal English and tried to squeeze some Turkish out of us. People on buses are generally very quiet - mobile phones are not supposed to be used and people speak in hushed tones. On trains people are a bit more talkative and speak a little louder to be heard over the rattling and rolling ... but these girls were at a pitch that was obviously embarrassing most people in the carriage, especially us. We weren't sure if it was just hormones or if they were on something, but we were very relieved (and they were disappointed) when we got off at the next stop, Kalzıçeşme (no wonder I had forgotten the name.)

And there was "Olivium", just a ten minute walk from the station. As we walked into the centre and through the usual security check the policewoman said "Welcome," (instead of the usual "Hoş geldiniz") and the man in the stationery store we browsed around asked us which country we came from. Still not blending in.

We wandered around and enjoyed a yummy Turkish lunch. Then we headed back to the station, trying to blend in and be normal.

No chance. There was a band of small boys bouncing around on the platform - yeah, why weren't they in school, ay? They were playing chicken with the train - sitting on the edge of the platform with their legs hanging over and daring the train to come - and testing the exit turnstiles - how far can you push the turnstile before it forces you to go through and you can't get back? Then they caught sight of us foreigners - more fun!


Fortunately there is not too long to wait between trains. Unfortunately the boys were, of course, waiting for the same train as us. It was one of those really old trains and you have to yank the doors open, and several doors just wouldn't give more than a crack, despite a number of passengers and would-be passengers applying themselves to the task. Being smaller than us the boys managed to get through one of those cracks, we headed further down the train and with relief squeezed ourselves into a different carriage.



Back home to our little apartment. That's our place with the Turkish flag, and our bedroom on the left behind the beautiful (peach?) tree.