Distance Istanbul - Edirne. Where to go from Istanbul for one day Location of the city of Edirne
October 24th, 2012 , 01:17 am
Coming out of the airport, we breathed in the overseas air. Constantinople. Heir to the Roman Empire and Ancient Greece, it was once the richest city in Europe. The heart of the Ottoman Empire. History was made here. Generals of all eras dreamed of capturing this city. Rus, crusaders, Arabs, Bulgarians, Turks... and finally, we arrived at the walls of Constantinople.
Our stay started with a little adventure. The fact is that we did not know the address of the house where we were going. To avoid “unauthorized” arrival at the WUA’s house, the exact address was kept secret
On the Internet there was only a guide on how to get to the nearest transport stop (bus and train) from different parts of Istanbul. From this point it was necessary to call one of the telephones, after which one had to wait for the escort. The easiest way to the AVP house was to find a bus near Ataturk Airport and take it to the desired stop. The only “but”, this bus required a certain local transport card to travel, which, for some inexplicable logic, was not sold at the airport.
In order to legally get on the bus, you had to make contact with the locals and ask them to let you through by paying them in cash. The first difficulty arose immediately: in this huge anthill, the required bus stubbornly did not catch the eye, and the locals also knew nothing about its existence. In addition, the first question from the Turks is “where exactly do you want to go?” put us in some difficulty, because we didn’t have an address, and we couldn’t really explain it (mainly due to the lack of knowledge of English by the people we met).
And not even an hour of our stay on Turkish soil had passed before we learned a very pleasant feature of the Turkish mentality. The Turks are very fond of 
they can, and if they can’t do it, then at least they’ll try to find someone who can. After 10 minutes, a whole crowd of helpers gathered, consisting of a flight attendant, several taxi drivers and just onlookers who rushed to look for the bus stop. And finally, victory! There was a stop.
We expected to get in with someone, but bad luck, we were alone at the stop. When the bus finally arrived, they expectedly refused to let us inside. The stop was dragging on, and the driver was about to close the doors. Without listening to his objections, I entered the bus and began to show with gestures to the passengers (this was not the first stop of the bus) that we really needed to go with them. As a result, some girl from the very back of the bus came to our aid and let us through. We contacted Krotov, and he promised to send messengers to the stop. A kind woman helped us find the stop, because it was difficult to understand the voice of the driver announcing the station. For some reason the bus wasn’t going to stop there at all. 
Yes (maybe the stop was only on weekdays), but the female helper got into an altercation with the driver, and we were dropped off. We are in place. Behind us is the Sea of Marmara, in front of us are the walls of an ancient fortress, on the gate of which the Prophetic Oleg nailed a shield.
A few minutes later we saw a clearly non-local couple - messengers who led us to the AVP house.
In general, we could divide our journey into two parts, Istanbul - the first, and the Balkans - the second. If in the Balkans we were left to our own devices, then in Istanbul 
They were ordered to live in an international travelers' house, not far from the Yediküle fortress. The first house of the Academy of Free Travelers outside the CIS was organized here.
This project, organized by the famous traveler Anton Krotov, aimed to provide shelter, tea and buckwheat to any free-will people who want to travel not “bourgeois”, but “free” (read cheap) paths around the world.
We entered completely non-tourist areas of the city. The abode of free travelers in this part of the world was the first of two floors of one of the houses. There were two small apartments at the entrance. In one of them (the smaller one) lived the “sages”, proven veterans of the movement. Everyone else lived in the second two-room apartment. There was also a shower, a toilet and a tiny kitchen in a small alcove.
It was already evening, and most of the inhabitants of the house were already assembled. Walking-looking people were sitting in the rooms. Girls were especially characteristic (there were some of them too, but not many). When we told them our essence (Krotov’s favorite expression), they say, guys from Moscow, a business analyst and a marketing analyst, there was some pause. It’s not that they didn’t like office people here. Rather, in this environment there were simply few like us. These were people who had a lot of time, due to the lack of any serious and stable activities (of course, this is not about everyone, but about the majority).
A little about Anton Krotov. Anton is a professional traveler. He devoted himself to this activity at the age of 14, and for 20 years he has been walking the roads all over the world. He walked and traveled many places both in Russia and around the world. Afghanistan, Iran, Iraq, Syria, Southeast Asia, the far north of Russia, Central Asia, China, Mongolia, Europe. He also has three trans-African expeditions under his belt through Egypt, Sudan, Ethiopia, Namibia, Zimbabwe, Tanzania, Zambia, Botswana and Angola and many, many other countries. But the main thing is not where, but how he makes his travels. His idea is to do them as cheaply as possible, not even for the purpose of saving, but with the aim of understanding local life as it is. Sharing shelter and food with the people he met along the way. He makes money by writing about his travels and selling books. He's a strange man. When we were met by a bearded man who looked like Che Guevara, in a worn T-shirt, with the inscription “I’m Muslim, don’t panic” (he converted to Islam after a trip to Sudan) and a tenacious, very lively look, we were even somewhat confused. But later, taking a closer look at him, it becomes clear that he is not just a freak-tramp. You understand how he went through so many not-so-prosperous places on our planet. By the way, he only got into trouble three times. Once, due to an expired visa, I spent a week in an Ethiopian prison. And two more times he was received here in the Caucasus. A bearded man with maps and a camp look aroused the interest of local security officials.
As for the rest of the inhabitants of the house, we can say that these are, for the most part, just people who, in the absence of any time-consuming activities or money, decided to travel. We were in this team in our own way - informals.
There was always tea, buckwheat/rice, bread, ketchup in the house. Sometimes something else. Many arrived from Ukraine, thanks to the low-cost (or flagellation, in our opinion) company Pegasus. A couple of silent Serbs and one funny student of French origin. It cannot be said that it was one friendly family, because... some individuals simply came there to spend the night without entering into conversations with anyone. Someone was reading a book, someone was watching a movie from a netbook, without sound (explaining this by the fact that the film was still in an unfamiliar language), someone was silently drinking tea. However, there were also quite sociable people there who brought us up to speed. They gave us a couple of cards, sold us keys (they were made in large quantities in advance) and a transport card (these cards were sold to the next resident before leaving). They also provided us with all sorts of useful information: how and where to go, where to eat cheaply or access the Internet.
However, there were also enthusiastic travelers close to Krotov in spirit. One guy traveled through South Africa, Syria, Libya and Iraq during a 40-day vacation. All that's left is for North Korea to complete the kit. Individual self-propelled tour “Axis of Evil”. He says everything is more or less calm. I did not see the war (this, however, was the period of the “truce” in Syria). It's quiet in Tripoli. Many locals really didn’t like Muammar Gadaffi.
Iraq is now highly militarized, with police and soldiers everywhere. The attitude towards Americans is extremely harsh. If a gringo gets lost somewhere in Baghdad without a platoon of soldiers or a couple of drones in support, his prospects are very doubtful. The attitude towards Russians is good. By the way, they remember Hussein with great affection. At least in Baghdad. The Kurds don’t remember anyone with a particularly kind word, since they have suffered enough from everyone. As for Syria, everyone here also adheres to Assad. The people are very kind and hospitable, but frightened by the war. The people's liberation movement consists mainly of all sorts of dashing people from all over the east, but not Syrians. Another comrade spent a month in an Iraqi prison. His documents were lost and while they were searching/requesting him, he was resting on his bunk.
By the way, I gained several kilograms there. There was enough food for everyone, but there was very little space. Not according to SanPin.
There were a number of rules in the house.
No drinking or smoking - strictly. Not only in the house, but also nearby. Don't swear, don't quarrel. Resolution of all controversial issues only through people convicted of “wisdom”. If you see that the kettle is empty, put on the water. If you see dirt, clean it up. In the toilet/shower - no more than 5 minutes. There was always a duty officer in the house who kept order and greeted new arrivals. The rules are not tricky, but strict, otherwise the door would open in both directions. However, I saw almost no manifestations of the unpleasant sides of human nature. Only once, some Moscow person, carried by I don’t know what wind, loudly showed dissatisfaction. But there are few of them. The rest helped each other, shared food and advice.
It is worth mentioning separately how the overnight stays were arranged in the house. The “table”, or rather the oilcloth, was promptly removed from the floor, and the fascinating process of taking a seat began. The fact is that you can lie anywhere, except in places where someone is already lying. Democracy in action. Therefore, living space was distributed every evening on a spontaneous basis. If you have foam, you can lie down in the corridor. But in one light sleeping bag (my case) it is better to lie in a room where there is at least cardboard on the ground, not tiles. Everyone sleeps next to each other. In principle, you can live. The only time we returned to the house late, there was no longer a normal place for me. The only free space was formed due to the fact that some had longer legs, some had shorter ones. Some slept with their legs stretched out, and others with their legs crossed. Therefore, in this ornament, not even a strip was formed from the bodies in the sleeping bags, but an S-shaped piece of the floor where one could lie down. True, taking the appropriate pose. It was no longer possible to turn over. Just like Tetris. A record 33 people spent the night in the house that night. Despite the inconvenience, the open balcony, the snoring of the guests and the hard floor, I slept like a log.
The train took us in 15 minutes straight to the Sultanahmet area, from where it was a stone's throw to the most iconic places. Topkana Palace, Hai Sophia and Blue Mosque. True, on the first day we didn’t get to places of worship, because... It was Sunday, and the same crowds of Turks were added to the crowds of foreign tourists. Therefore, we decided to visit all of the above places another time, and on this day we went to see Istanbul from the service entrance. Gradually we went further and further from the tourist routes into the old city. We reached the “Russian” quarter of Laleli, the place where the shuttles were based, transporting all sorts of goods to Russia in characteristic enormous trunks in the 90s. I didn’t see any Russians here, but a bunch of signs in Russian hinted to us about their hidden presence.
I would divide Istanbul into three parts.
The first part is the historical center and other “tourist” places. This includes the entire Sultanahmet area, as well as the other side of the Golden Horn, the Galata Tower, Istiklal Street, Taksim Square. This is the facade of Istanbul. The second part is new areas. Everything that has grown to Istanbul in recent years. Areas of modern faceless high-rise buildings, similar to each other in all cities of the planet. The 3rd part is an old non-tourist town. Here people live on narrow streets in two-story shacks. Some houses are abandoned, some have an “abandoned” first floor, and people live on the second, or vice versa. Our destination was the Fener and Balat regions. When Constantinople fell to the famous conqueror in 1453 (in whose honor the district where Fener is located was named), almost all the Greeks remaining in the city lived here. We did not meet any people about whom we could confidently say that they were Greeks. True, here we found an infernal-looking Greek patriarchy and all kinds of Greek signs. Balat is a neighboring district. It is comfortably located between the gypsy quarter of Avansaray and the Greek Fener. It has been inhabited by Greek-speaking Jews since the Byzantine period. And by the end of the 15th century, Spanish Sephardic Jews began to settle in these places, with whom Muslims, Greeks and Armenians lived peacefully side by side. The name of the Balat district most likely comes from the Latin palatium, which means palace. Although the Jewish quarter looks better than the Greek quarter, it is still poor here. Poor, shabby, but at the same time quite nice. To be honest, such places, places of real city life, attract me more than any architectural monuments. There is no formality or artificial gloss here. People live here. (By the way, there are no tourists there at all. We attracted attention with our appearance, especially children).
Crowds of children were running along the narrow streets, some were playing ball, some were jumping rope, some were simply picking through all sorts of rubbish. Women look out of windows, communicating with each other, while looking after their offspring. The streets are so narrow that two women, sitting in the windows of houses opposite, communicate without even raising their voices. From time to time, children would run up to us, asking, apparently, the only thing they knew in English: “What is your name?” The answer completely satisfied them; they had no intention of developing the conversation, and happily ran away. The next day, they will probably boast to their friends that they talked to foreigners. There is a market for locals right there, not far away. I was impressed by the butcher's shop, which sold sheep and any of their spare parts. Creepy sheep heads, hooves, meat, entrails, and even something strange that looked like old dirty rags. Perhaps they were stomachs turned inside out. I think it would be possible to assemble a whole sheep from spare parts, like Frankenstein's shop.
So we spent the first day in Istanbul walking around old residential areas.
The second day was spent visiting places more inhabited by tourists. In the morning - Topkani Palace, which is notable, probably, only for the beautiful view of the Bosphorus and the armory, and, of course, for the huge crowds of tourists. In the premises you have to walk in the general flow of people, which, of course, greatly underestimates the value of visiting this place. I can say that if I had not gotten there, I would not have lost anything, but would have only saved 25 liras (about 500 rubles). Afterwards, we went to the other side of the Golden Horn to the Galata Tower.
One of the symbols of Istanbul, the Galata Tower rises above the city. The whole place is also thoroughly bourgeois-tourist; you can even go upstairs only by elevator. Unsportsmanlike. The tower offers a very beautiful view of Istanbul, and just for that alone it’s worth climbing it. But we were lucky. While we were admiring the view of the Bosphorus, it was time for prayer. And that was really fascinating. We heard the songs of the muezzins from everywhere. There are a lot of mosques in the city (one of which is right next to our house), so this was no news for us. But you can always hear singing only from the nearest minaret. And here, when the whole of Istanbul lay before us in full view, we heard singing from all sides. The muezzins sing live (although they amplify their voices through loudspeakers), and although they try to sing at the same time, it is still impossible. And because of this word “Hayya ala-s-salah! Hayya ala-s-salah! Hayya ala-l-falyah! Hayya ala-l-falyah! overlapped each other many times. It was as if invisible ripples appeared over the minarets of Istanbul. As if from the midday heat, the air trembled over the city. Goosebumps ran down my spine, it sounded so strong. There was some mysticism in this, as if the ancient Maghreb sorcerers cast their spells in the language of the deserts, understandable only to the hot sand, dry wind and blue sky...
Here, just above the Galata Tower, the famous Istiklal Street (İstiklal Caddesi - Independence Street) begins. It stretches through the rich and well-groomed Beyoğlu quarter to Taksim Meydanı Square. This is something like the local Arbat, with its own musicians, magicians and souvenirs. An old tram is the only transport that runs along this pedestrian area; it is left here more to create a special atmosphere than for transport needs. He was not going much faster than my pace. At the very beginning of the street we came across a bookstore, above the entrance of which there was a sign with the inscription “Samyzdat”, which could not but interest us. It turned out that this is a book by a Turkish writer whose name sounds something like “Yeltsin.” Of course, we could not help but find out what Turkish samizdat means. “We,” we say to the pretty saleswoman with sad eyes, “are from Russia and we also have this term. The girl studied us with an attentive gaze and said that in this case, samizdat means the same thing as it does here... and after a little hesitation, she shared with us information about the fate of the local Yeltsin.
Here Yeltsin is in prison for political convictions, and that, in general, many of them are in prison for this reason. As he says, you may have noticed, we have the same face everywhere here. Indeed, Kemal Ataturk here is like Lenin in the USSR. His noble face adorns everything that is possible and what is not. The girl was pleasant and a little sad, apparently worried about Yeltsin. I wanted to say something nice to her. We, I tell her, also have a problem with freedom of expression, but we are fighting it. Although in some ways they are right. Our Yeltsin should also have been punished for some of his actions... but Boris Nikolayevich escaped punishment by going to the halls of Valhalla in time. Well, apparently the Turkish colleague will have to take the rap for both.
The next day, according to plan, we had a visit to Hagia Sophia, but it had to be postponed, since international duty required us to show solidarity with Turkish workers. After all, it was May 1st! Therefore, the WUA delegation went to Taksim Square for a demonstration. The demonstration was serious, with endless columns of people, huge banners and unrealizable demands. It seemed that half the city was blocked off, bars were placed on windows and shop windows, and police battalions were deployed. There were many guards of order, but somehow they were not noticeable. Entire squads were hiding in narrow streets, and armored cars showed only their faces from the alleys, like alligators hiding in the black waters of the Nile. It is impossible to attend a rally without a political platform, so the platform was developed: “Tsar Grad is a Russian city” and “Give the Bosphorus and Dardanelles to the Black Marine Fleet,” but, unfortunately, our column of about 15 people would have gone unheard in this great crowd of people.
Therefore we joined our most politically close comrades in the struggle and, singing “El Pueblo Unido Jamás Será Vencido” and waving scarlet banners, we marched towards the world revolution. True, when a group of comrades took to the streets under the “free Kurdistan” flags, the situation began to escalate, and we decided to retreat. We were ready to fight for world peace, but not for a free Kurdistan.
Aya Sophia is probably the most famous place in Istanbul. It's like St. Peter's Basilica for Catholics, with the only difference that several hundred years ago the heart of Orthodoxy became one of the largest mosques. However, this only made this temple something completely unique. How do you like amazing frescoes and mosaics depicting Orthodox saints next to huge inscriptions from the Koran on wide green shields? This is a strong place, the object of envy of Mimar Sinan, who spent his whole life trying to prove to himself and the world that the Ottomans could build no worse than the Greeks. As he believed, having built the Selimiye Mosque in Edirne (which I visited the next day), he still, at a minimum, equaled the architects of Constantinople. Although, in my personal opinion, I-Sophia is more monumental and more elegant at the same time. But it doesn’t need to be described, it needs to be seen and walked there. After Hai Sophia we went to the Blue Mosque or Sultanahmet Mosque.
It’s also very beautiful and powerful, I have to give it its due. Its dome is decorated with beautiful azure patterns (that’s why it is called the “Blue Mosque”). By the way, anyone who wants can enter the mosque. Nobody restricts freedom of movement either. The exception is during prayer times. Then a kind of traffic controller appears at the door, dividing people into three groups.
The men go to the main room. Women go to the side branches, and all infidels are asked to go to special “guest” pens at the entrance, from where they can watch the service. By the way, the imam sings in Arabic, and the Turks understand him very vaguely. Arabic and Turkish have a common root, as Anton explained to us in the evening, but they are still very different. Therefore, for the Turks, suras are in Arabic, just as for us the service is in Old Church Slavonic. The essence is guessed, but approximately.
Overall, I can say that Istanbul is a strong city. Strong, powerful and majestic. Behind it is time and hundreds of generations of great people, each of whom invested a piece of their soul into the city. Very different people, completely different from each other. This city is very lively, pulsating, noisy. Definitely eastern. Its Byzantine past stands out all the more clearly. Powerful Roman walls and aqueducts silently remind of him. And the tall minarets cannot hide the true appearance of Ai-Sophia... they are like overseas decorations on this majestic Byzantine beauty. They say that Moscow is not Russia, and Istanbul is not Turkey, but a special unique world. A place where civilizations came together. And, fortunately, this is more of a forum than a battlefield.
And here is the young water merchant
And the next day Arthur and I separated. Arthur went hunting for souvenirs, to the Grand Bazaar and to the Cisterns, and I decided to test the strength of Turkish hitchhiking (and myself at the same time). The fact is that I have never hitchhiked. And, perhaps, conducting such pilot experiments in a foreign country, and even a Muslim one, was a risky decision. But in his favor was the fact that we lived with the most experienced stoppers, and it would have been a sin not to try. And secondly, again according to experienced comrades, the Turkish stop is one of the best in the world. Well, I had to check it out.
I left the house at about seven. I walked along the walls of the Edikul fortress through the still sleeping quarters.
Somewhere the streets were completely empty, somewhere the schoolchildren had already set course for their schools. I walked for about 40 minutes to the train junction. There I boarded the desired train and drove another 40 minutes to the local Moscow Ring Road, or rather to the highway to Europe. There I took “position.”
I won’t list all my fellow travelers, but I’ll tell you about the most interesting ones. The third person on my way came across an elderly man in an old Volkswagen. He did not understand a word of English, but “on his fingers” he explained that his name was Mehmed and that he was on his way to Choglu. The city is exactly between Istanbul and Edirne, where I was heading. I explained my essence to him as best I could. In the end, he still took me in. For a well-known reason, our conversation didn’t go well, so we drove in silence.
Along the road, every 10 km there were parking lots for truckers. There is coffee, a toilet, a shower, a shop - everything a truck driver needs for a break. And so Mehmed says that we need to slow down. OK. We pull into the parking lot. He sits me down at a table and treats me to tea. He asks with signs (which was quite funny) if I’m hungry. And while I’m drinking tea, he goes around all the truckers, finding out who is going towards Edirne. Like this. If a Turk cannot help you, he will find someone who can. But in this parking lot no one was going there. Then we drive to the next parking lot and there, he buys me tea, and he… again bypasses the truckers. At this time, all the inhabitants of the parking lot are also trying to help me. Someone called English-speaking friends and handed me the phone so that I could explain the essence of my problems. Someone is simply actively figuring out what and how. And so my new friend Mehmed finds a man of about forty, Hedyar, as I found out later, who was driving cargo from Batum somewhere to Germany. They handed me over and, thanking Mehmed, I climbed into the cabin of a huge trailer. With him I got to Edirne.
Edirne itself is a beautiful city, but, as they say, only for half a day. There is a masterpiece of Islamic architecture - the Selemia Mosque. The city is close to the border with Bulgaria, and this is felt by the sharply increased number of Roma. Among other things, they occupied the package business. Bags are needed at the entrance to the mosque in order to hide shoes there. But in Istanbul, packages can be taken at the entrance for absolutely no money, but here grimy gypsy children sell them at the exorbitant price of one lira. Somehow this... Well, may Allah be their judge, for within its walls such lawlessness, contrary to Allah, is happening. There is also an old mosque from the 16th century, which is called the “Old Mosque”. A beautiful historical quarter, laid out like a chessboard. There were strange but beautiful sculptures at street intersections. The streets are touristy, with quite Western cafes and even pubs. But the parallel street is for locals. With establishments for Turks. They are quite distinctive. Only men sit in them, smoke cigarettes, and hot tea is poured into narrow glasses. The TV in the corner is quietly broadcasting about something. Men communicate. In the east, in general, there is a cult of communication. People communicate thoughtfully, slowly and with gusto. The all-encompassing fast food culture has not permeated every area of their lives. Men communicate, they can sit and drink tea in silence, they can play cards, backgammon or some kind of local dominoes. And unlike Westerners, what is important to them in many ways is not the result, but the process. So I went not to the pub, but to a local establishment. I open a map of Edirne and study it, which immediately arouses the interest of others. The owner comes up, asks who I am and where I’m going, treats me to tea and offers his help if necessary.
It’s worth making a small lyrical digression. In general, I do not belong to the class of people who see only bad traits in their people, and only good ones in other nations. You need to understand that the east is a delicate matter. Helping you is, rather, a benefit for themselves. It makes them feel better. Eastern people are cruel, and when they are crossed, there is no mercy from them. The history of the Balkans is a good example of this. But when you are a guest at their home and, what is important, you behave like a guest, you can only learn from their hospitality... After all, a traveler somewhere on the highway of their country is a guest, and not helping him means going against tradition. In the east there are many conventions and subtleties. Today you are a guest, tomorrow you may find yourself in a completely different role. Probably, in our opinion, Eastern people are hypocritical and cunning. They may smile with cold eyes. Although this is just a slightly different way of behavior and thought. For them, true thoughts do not need to be shown, you can only hint at what they are, while maintaining a constant smile. This is the language of diplomats. Saving face is important. This is value. And this inspires respect.
On the way from Edirne, I also met interesting fellow travelers. First, a Russian-speaking Bulgarian, Georgiy, gave me a ride about 70 kilometers, giving me a bottle of water (due to my inexperience, I didn’t stock up), then some other guy offered to take me all the way to Istanbul if I waited until the evening until he loaded up. I refused, because in the evening a bus to Sofia was already waiting for us. Well, my last travel companion, a young guy, whisked me away (sometimes driving 160), treated me to all sorts of goodies that I had already missed (chips, 7Up and other simple foods that he had in the car). When we got stuck in a traffic jam at the entrance to Istanbul, he bought me a bunch of bananas, took me to the bus stop, took me inside, paid for my fare and told the driver where to drop me off... because I was a guest. Like this.
Having reached home, we grabbed our backpacks, quickly said goodbye to the AVP officers, and ran to the station. We had to spend the night on the bus...
The distance Istanbul - Edirne along the highway is 236 km, in a straight line - 213 km. In English countries, the length of this route is 147 miles by road and 133 miles as the crow flies. The trip from Istanbul to Edirne by car will last approximately 3 hours 22 minutes.
The road map is highlighted in red on the map and passes near 11 settlements. To plot the route Istanbul - Edirne for a car and find out how many kilometers between these settlements, the exact coordinates of cities, roads and other geographical objects were used.
To find out what traffic jams are like on the Istanbul-Edirne road now, check the “Traffic” box and enlarge the map. To find out how to get from Istanbul to by car through intermediate cities and towns, list them when calculating the distance. To get a map of the road route in a convenient format, click.
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To plot the route and calculate the distance, precise satellite coordinates of roads and settlements were used. We do not guarantee 100% accuracy and are not responsible for the route constructed.
Edirne, historically known as Adrianople, is a city in the northwestern Turkish province of Edirne, in the region of East Thrace, close to Turkey's borders with Greece and Bulgaria. Edirne served as the third capital city of the Ottoman Empire from 1363 to 1453, before Constantinople (present-day Istanbul) became the empire's fourth and final capital. At present, Edirne is the capital of Edirne Province in Turkish Thrace. The city's estimated population in 2014 was 165,979.- Wikipedia
Things to do in Edirne
Selimiye Mosque
The Selimiye Mosque (Turkish: Selimiye Camii) is an Ottoman imperial mosque, which is located in the city of Edirne, Turkey. The mosque was commissioned by Sultan Selim II, and was built by architect Mimar Sinan between 1569 and 1575. It was considered by Sinan to be his masterpiece and is one of the highest achievements of Islamic architecture.
Karaağaç
Karaağaç (Turkish: "elm, elm wood") is a suburb of Edirne in northwestern Turkey at the border with Greece. Karaağaç is 4 km southwest from the center of Edirne, across the river Maritsa and opposite the Greek village Kastanies. In 1890, the large Karaağaç railway station was built in the town, which also served Edirne, becoming the last train stop in Turkey to Europe. In 1971, Turkish State Railways (TCDD) constructed a new railway station at the opposite side of the river, abandoning the former one, which is now used as Trakya University's Faculty of Fine Arts..
The trip should be a joy! To achieve this goal, the specific features of the chosen route should be taken into account. This will determine how quickly and safely you can reach your final destination. So, for example, if your route passes through an area with a large number of settlements, then you do not need to worry about a large amount of gasoline in the tank in advance. If the road bypasses densely populated areas, then it is necessary to determine in advance the area where refueling will take place. In addition, everyone knows that the quality of gasoline at different gas stations can vary greatly. When traveling long distances, try to refuel your car at reputable gas stations.