How on earth I ended up in a virtually dry city escapes me.
Konya is the modern day version of what was known in Roman times as Iconium.
Despite repeated assurances from the bus company Kamil Coc (my second favourite funny name here) that they would take me into the city centre , the bus station turned out to be a good 5km away
I ended up getting a free ride on the tram thanks to the generosity of a local student.
This was the biggest football night of the year Galatasaray v Fenabache
I joined a group of a few hundred Gala fans watching the game on TV. Not a can or pint of lager in sight.
They offered me some of the snacks they were eating that tasted like bits of salted twigs to be honest.
Imagine a bunch of footie fans back home watching Man U v City without a drop of alcohol…
The streets were full of good natured fans but I still can’t work out why they were happy when Gala lost.
On every street corner and from street trollies came the smell of chicken , lamb and fish being grilled.
When a famous British travel writer came here in 1935 he couldn’t sleep because of the sounds of owls hooting through the night.
I had to put the pillow over my head to cut out the incessant sound of celebratory car horns and chanting fans.
This is a painting I found if Thecla. The indestructible virgin