The great tuition fees robbery

The last few weeks have seen this winter of discontent in the U.K boil over to violent protests from angry students over the tuition fee rises in 2012.

Now I don't condone violence, but the younger generations of this country are very angry, and rightly so. At a time when unemployment amongst young people is sky high, jobs for graduates are very limited and getting on the property ladder, especially in London is nigh on impossible, they are faced with the prospect of even more debt.

And for what?

If I am paying through the nose to go to university then I expect a world class institution, with smaller classes, one-on-one tutoring, state of the art laboratories for our future scientists, well stocked libraries and innovative research programmes...but that's not what we're getting is it?

University budgets are being slashed, with the polite term being 'efficiency savings' which in affect means another 20-30% of the budget being reduced. Why should students pay £9,000 a year to attend an institution that is running on a shoestring?

The fact that EU students bar English ones can attend university in Scotland for free is a travesty. This is surely discrimination? They apparently fear an influx of 'fee refugees' from England...what absolute rubbish. I was under the impression that there were admissions criteria to get into a university? Or do you just turn up at the door at the University of Edinburgh with a suitcase saying 'Gizza place!' and they're obliged to let you in?

Knowledge is power, as they say. These fees limit people from poorer families from gaining access to the best universities, and I wonder, perhaps cynically, that this is exactly what suits this government. The nation is becoming over qualified to do the necessary menial jobs, jobs that have been taken by cheaper eastern european labour. However the money they earn is often being sent to their home countries to support their families, rather than going back into the economy. Now, a future unskilled British workforce living in family units (rather than single men overcrowding a house) spending their hard earned pennies in pubs and shops etc means more money back into the British economy, more money in the banks and more people back in their places, cleaning up after the Chelsea-tractor-driving bright young things.

I'm in danger of sounding like a bitter old socialist but this policy reeks of lazy elitist muck. The government needs to reduce the deficit...why? Graduates now live with thousands of pounds worth of debt, what's a few billion to a country? These sorts of cuts do nothing to stimulate our sluggish economy, which surely should be our number one priority?

Istanbul...not Constantinople

Istanbul is a bustling cosmopolitan, exotic dream of a capital city. 'East meets West' is an overused and generally wrongly used cliché that does actually sum up this thriving place that is technically in both Europe and Asia. Veiled women and solemn imams pass by students and shopkeepers - all hopeless romantics, charmers and chancers cooing endlessly at passing girls.

The main backpacker area in Sultanahmet is a loud, brash and chaotic stretch of road where carpets, jewellery, perfume, hookahs and hareems are offered (all for good price!) in broken English, while waiters chase after you, menus flapping and discounts being touted (only for you, you understand my friend) as taxis snake millimetres past your feet, and all this while the bars blare ungodly music at full blast, and breathlessly you run this gauntlet and reach your hostel.

The Blue Mosque is without doubt one of the highlights of Istanbul, if only for the adorable little mosque branded plastic bags they give you for your shoes... As an athiest I abhor the opulent excesses of organised religion, but I do love beautiful buildings and they do do great architecture (albeit morally corrupt). It is adorned with beautiful tiles and soaring pillars crowned with astounding domes and arches. From the outside it is domineering but not austere and is truly a symbol of Turkey. It's downfall - its popularity. I stood in line for half an hour before cramming myself inside, the voices of hundreds of people hummed like a swarm of bees and the camera flashes alone would have set off an epileptic fit. It was crazy; if you hate crowds then go with care...

Hagia Sophia is a sterner building, plain and uninviting at first, but inside it is pure Byzantine grandeur. Gold glimmers from beneath the dust and your neck cramps from staring up at the looming ceiling and the stained glass windows above. Topkapi Palace sits in beautiful grounds (do not walk on the grass - a man with a Kalashnikov will politely usher you off) and is well worth a wander for an hour or two. Laze on the lawn (the bit you're allowed on) and enjoy the sunshine in the beauty of the former Ottoman Empire.

The Grand Bazaar is also a definite sight to see. Despite being assured that it was closed by an opportunist shop owner (selling diamonds for a good price naturally) we were soon engrossed by the mass of shops selling everything from rugs to counterfeit Nikes. Tourists intersperse with locals, each seeking their own treasure - from fridge magnets to wedding dresses. Business cards are exchanged feverishly, offers of marriage come with each purchase (generally bargained down to a promise of a Facebook friend request) The red and white of the Turkish flag flutters from every corner and the musty air mingles with wafts of cooking kebabs and sickly sweet baklava. I could have spent a month sifting through the antique section, rifling through Nazi medals (what are the morals on buying such things?) and broken pocket watches! My biggest regret is that it was day 2 of an 8 month trip and buying things was strictly off limits. 

I eased my throbbing feet that evening with an awkward trip to a Turkish bath house that was also quite possibly a brothel. Still, after sweating it out for an hour, half naked in a communal sauna, an unnecessarily topless woman led me to a table for a scrub - and by god it was one hell of a scrub! Freckles disappeared, half my tattoo too I suspect is on their floor, and then the foaming inflated pillow bit (like a thousand feathers caressing you) and I came out smoother, paler and less prudish, and was treated to my first heavenly cup of apple tea.

Istanbul will need to be revisited, with money and time...and I cannot wait. 

How do

Owing to a bout of post-travel unemployment, procrastination and the dwindling supply of backdated episodes of TV shows (although The West Wing boxset does call to me) I have embarked upon blogging.

There is no real theme, just whatever comes into my mind, which will generally be travel, fashion and the abismal political state my fair isle is in..