Istanbul -- February 2016

Blue Mosque in Istanbul's Sultanahmet Square

Preface

Over the years I’ve priced trips to Istanbul several times, it’s always been too expensive, or my friends would rather do something resort-ish.  Yet, being mono-lingual has always made me hesitant to go anywhere alone. Recently, a few things made me change my mind.  First is my continuing reads of all things [author Orhan] PAMUK, which has only increased my fascination with the city. Then late last year the Turkish Air Force shot down a Russian fighter plane violating its border with Syria, and the Russians retaliated with a tourism boycott.  As a direct result of the boycott, the cost of travel to Istanbul dropped substantially. And finally, my friend Daniel said he'd be able to join me for part of the trip. 

So in December 2015, I booked a flight and a hotel in the SULTANAHMET (a.k.a. the Old City).  Several days later, a terrorist bomb exploded two blocks from the hotel I picked, but by then my mind was already made up, I was going.  To again use one of my favorite sayings: When my time is up, my time will be up, won’t matter where I am.

I’m so glad I stuck to my vacation plan, and let me emphasize I had not one safety issue on the entire 11-day vacation.   And I don’t know where to mention this in this vacation journal, so let’s do it now: the Lonely Planet Istanbul tour guide book was excellent.

Day 1 - Friday, February 19, 2016

I left on Thursday evening from Chicago’s O’Hare airport taking an overnight Turkish Airlines flight.  Turkish Airlines was quite good – and I had delightful conversations with an older woman from Green Bay who was sitting next to me the entire way.   Her Catholic women’s group was making a pilgrimage to Bethlehem “following in the footsteps of Jesus,” and would be changing planes in Istanbul.  As we were exiting the plane I playfully teased her in front of her church group friends about how nice it was to have “spent last night with you.”  Fortunately, like her, they all found the humor.

Istanbul’s Ataturk International Airport is gigantic and chaotic – easily double the size of O’Hare, but with a reverse layout, instead of 4 domestic terminals with 1 international; it is more like 4 international terminals, with 1 domestic.   Although I had to show my passport several times, security wasn’t burdensome – and I had no difficulty bringing my prescription drugs into Turkey, which had been my biggest trip planning concern.  However, Istanbul is 8 hours “ahead” of Chicago time-wise. My internal clock was telling me it was 8 am; my body was telling me it had no sleep on the plane; and the local clock was telling me it was 4 pm.  My body won, I took a cab to my hotel … sort of.

I say “sort of” because the cab driver told me he could only take me to Sultanahmet Square, not to my hotel’s door step.  Having done my homework, I knew that would be close enough, I did not bring much luggage (the Square b-t-w, was also the location of the terrorist bombing).  The taxi was 42 lirasi and took a little less than an hour; the “hotel bus” would have taken nearly 2 hours and cost 150 lirasi (the first of my many thank you’s to Lonely Planet). 

The streets weren't really wide enough for vehicles, which is why the cab driver could only point me in the right direction for my hotel.  However, the two blocks to the hotel was anything but direct.  I rapidly discovered two things: there isn’t a straight street anywhere in Istanbul, and although they’ve heard of street signs, they don’t really believe in them.  Fortunately, another thing I learned was that nearly everyone in Sultanahmet speaks English – and not just “passable” English, but good English.  The first of several Turkish carpet salesmen I would meet on this trip, helped me find my hotel, after insisting of course, we stop at his shop for cay (tea).

Once in my hotel (TAN HOTEL), I was lying down just as I heard my first ever “call to prayer” [quite soothing actually] coming from multiple nearby mosques.  I was sound asleep in a matter of minutes.

Shipping on the Sea of Marmara headed to/from the Bosphorus connecting the Black Sea to the Mediterranean Sea.  This is not a very good picture, yet it says everything one needs to know about the strategic location of Istanbul in world history.  

Day 2 - Saturday, February 20, 2016

Despite the excitement of a foreign vacation, it was 10 a.m. before I woke up on Saturday, that’s how bad my jet lag was.  My plan for the day was not so much doing touristy things, as it was getting familiar with the neighborhood my hotel was in.  I knew many of the places on my “must see” list would be in the immediate vicinity of my hotel, so I set out to find them.  I would wait until Daniel arrived on Thursday before actually going inside these major buildings, for now, I just wanted to scope them out, and find a place to eat.

Almost immediately I bumped into my carpet salesman from Friday.  He wanted me to stop in the shop for tea – I declined, telling him I wanted to check out the neighborhood, but promised that sometime during my week in town I’d stop in.  He politely volunteered to show me around the sites, and I politely declined.

The Sultanahmet is an amazing neighborhood. The only comparison I can think of to describe it is the Capitol Mall in Washington, DC.  It’s a user friendly campus of some of the most incredible architecture one can imagine:  the Hagia Sophia, the Sultan Ahmed (Blue) Mosque, the Basilica Cistern, and the Topkapi Palace; and some rather phenomenal museums:  the Museum of Turkish and Islamic Art, and Istanbul Archaeology Museums. The plaza these are all on was once the Hippodrome, and a handful of relics from that time period remain.  If one is a history buff, and I am, it’s like heaven on earth.  All of this was within a few blocks of my hotel, and mercifully situated on a relatively flat hilltop (the only flat space I’d come across).

While there were many tourists, crowds were not unbearable by any means.  The biggest contingent was German, with pockets of other western European countries, and a sizable number of Japanese.  Americans were rare.  Istanbul is also a tourist destination for wealthy Arabs and South Asians.

Most everyone, locals and tourists, speaks multiple languages, and people offering to be guides were plentiful. One such would-be guide was a young Turkish man who used the pick-up line of “may I practice my English with you.”

He was friendly and interesting, and said he was working on a history degree so that he could become a professional tour guide.  When I asked about where I could grab lunch, he lead me to – you guessed it – the Turkish carpet shop where the other guy worked, and where I had tea the day before.  I relented, and allowed them to do their sales pitch.  There are multiple carpet shops in the tourist area and they all operate the same: they employ friendly “runners,” attractive adult young men to spot tourists on the mall and invite them back to the shop for tea, where their boss takes over to make the sale. Their favorite targets are, in order: Americans, single men, and Japanese newlyweds.

At the store, they invited me to an individual show room, provided Turkish coffee and tea, and a light Turkish breakfast (cheese, black olives, apple slices, sausage) since they knew I had been asking about a restaurant  – an effective strategy to keep you from bolting.   Over breakfast they asked many questions, methodically gathering information about me that would benefit them in making their sales pitch – chief among these was asking about my marital status.  Finding a man in his 60’s who was not married or a widower, nor has a girlfriend, is like hitting the jackpot for them – a rich gay American.  Ha!  “No wife, no girlfriend, we must find a gift for you to give your boyfriend.” A few decades ago, this strategy would have bordered on intimidation, or even crossed over to the blackmail category -- not so much today, at least in Istanbul.

From step one I made it clear to the Boss guy that I wasn’t interested in buying a carpet, at any price, but he insisted on making his sales pitch anyway.  So, I went with the flow, and it was in fact interesting to a point.  First, I hit them with the obvious: what’s the difference between a Turkish carpet and a Persian carpet?  “Quality, of course – plus when the Persians tell you it’s handmade, they are lying.”  I asked them where they got their carpets.  He said they shopped village markets across Turkey and bought or special ordered carpets from weavers whose families had been making carpets for generations (read: they pay next to nothing for them). 

He had his helpers show me carpet after carpet, most of which were beautiful, and made sure I realized they could also be used as tapestries – even explained how they can be wall mounted. He then said, “I know you aren’t interested in buying, but please tell me which four you would pick if you were.”  So, I picked my four (without pointing out that I have Masters degree in marketing and knew exactly where he was going).  Then he gave glowing reviews about my good taste, and continued describing how each carpet was made and what the design symbolized (quite interesting actually).  And finally for the kill: “If money were not an object, which would be your favorite. Ah yes, that one is the finest, it would be $2,500 (US)."  Resisting, I got him down to $1,000 including shipping.  But, I continued to make it clear I wasn’t buying.  He pushed, and flattered, and pushed, at one point even adding “getting together tonight” to the deal.  When he finally realized that this was going to be a no sale, he got angry, raised his voice at my ungratefulness and for wasting his time. I politely (I’m in his country after all) pointed out that I was upfront about not being interested in a carpet from the moment I set foot in the store.  He continued ranting, at which point I impolitely said look, I’m not interested in buying a “rug” - the ultimate insult one can give to sellers of Turkish (or Persian) carpets.  He stormed out of the show room, and then I left bidding his runners farewell.

I returned to my hotel and took a nap to reboot my frame of mind. 

After recharging – mind and camera – I returned to the purpose of my vacation, which was sight-seeing, not shopping.  To avoid my “friends” I headed in the opposite direction, toward the south end of the museum campus.  

The south end of the campus was the site of the famed Hippodrome, constructed by the Roman occupiers in the 3rd century A.D., basically a chariot racing stadium which used the strategy of giving the common people “Roman circuses” to quell their restlessness (not unlike the Coliseum in Rome).  It worked perfectly until 532 A.D. when in a precursor to today’s soccer fans, things got out of hand at one tournament, the fans rioted, and the ensuing battles (the Nika riots) exploded to point of burning down half of Constantinople. 

In the aftermath of the riots, Emperor Justinian (a smart but not very brave man) and his (politically astute) Empress Theodora announced the construction of the Hagia Sophia to provide employment to the masses, and create a symbol of greatness that the city could be proud of.  It worked, leaving one of the greatest architectural wonders ever envisioned, and one that is still standing fifteen centuries later.

At the southern tip of the museum campus, I encountered Carpet Salesman #2 -- I’ve read this book before -- while I checked out the store, and drank the obligatory tea; I declined a visit to the showroom.

Rather worn by the tourist area, I decided to check out the neighborhood just to the south.  It runs downhill toward the Sea of Marmara.  Within two blocks I was in a true neighborhood of locals, not tourists.  This was the atmosphere I needed.  I stopped for a late lunch at Arch Café, a trendy little place built under an arch that once supported a Roman aqueduct.  Nice lunch, wonderful staff. 

Being a Chicagoan, I of course wanted to go to the waterfront, but that proved not really practical.  Istanbul is like New York, it has no respect for its waterfront; as opposed to Chicago which glorifies its lakefront.  At sea level, there was a hideous fence separating a highway from the waterfront businesses, which are docks, not boutiques. Thwarted, this led me to come up to the museum campus from the east side, an entire neighborhood that one can’t really see from the museums because it slants downward.  It was nice, rather like Capitol Hill, professional, relatively upscale, yet quaint.

Then I continued to explore the area north of the Hagia Sophia, and strolled through the park that leads to the Topkapi Palace (home to the Ottoman Sultans from the 15th to the 19th century).  In the park I had a very nice nearly hour long conversation with Carpet Salesman #3.  His name was Burak, he was the polar opposite of the other two. We talked primarily about him and the people who lived in Istanbul, as opposed to the tourist attractions. No pressure. No tea, though he did ask. I took a rain check, grabbed dinner, and then back to the hotel, where I slept soundly thanks to a day of walking up and down hills.

Day 3 - Sunday, February 21, 2016

This leisurely morning I decided to check out the neighborhood to the west of Sultanhamet. The first thing I found out was that the blocks just west of my hotel were decidedly gentrified, with many upscale shops and restaurants lining leafy streets. There was a movie being filmed nearby, but I wasn’t able to determine its name.   In a short time I came across the Eastern Gate to the Grand Bazaar.  It was locked, neither the Grand Bazaar, nor its “cousin” the Spice Bazaar are open on Sunday – oh well, later.  Walking around the neighborhood I discovered that the further one went west, the more working class the area became, with lots of people out doing ordinary shopping: groceries and bakeries.  

When asking directions, I came across a couple of chatty guys who were quite nice and helpful. When I finally asked about breakfast, they promised to show me the best place in the neighborhood.  It ended up being several blocks away – in fact, it ended up being next door to Carpet Salesman #2.  Of course, the restaurant wouldn’t be open for another 15 minutes, therefore I should come to the shop for tea.  The manager recognized me from the day before and yelled at his runners that “he’s not a buyer.”  One was so embarrassed that he ended up showing me another restaurant nearby. 

After a hearty brunch, I decided it was time to try Beyoglu, the part of Istanbul immediately north of the Sultanahmet (it is not inaccurate to think of Beyoglu as a “borough” with multiple neighborhoods in it). To get there one has to cross the Galata Bridge over the Golden Horn, a large water inlet running northwest from the Bosphorous just north of where it enters the Sea of Marmara. However, on this trip I did not get around to taking the Golden Horn tour boat.

The Galata Bridge has the same kind of romantic aura/epic symbolism for Istanbul that the Brooklyn Bridge does for New York, (though not near as architecturally impressive), and it’s a major tourist destination. Walking across the Galata Bridge is a “must do” activity for tourists, and is easy to do – short, without an arc to it. The south end of Bridge is the Sultanahmet neighborhood of Eminonu, which is the major ferry transfer point for the city.  The north end of the Bridge is the Karakoy neighborhood of Beyoglu, and is known for its fish markets.

The Bridge is two-tier: the lower one being restaurants; and the upper one being the actual roadway& and tram crossing.  The Bridge has wide sidewalks, and is lined with fishermen, who were in fact catching fish as fast as they could drop their lines.  Interestingly, Karakoy is largely commercial office buildings, interspersed with bait and tackle shops.

From the bridge I walked uphill to the Galata Tower, my intent was to go to the top of the tower, which commands stunning, 360-degree views of the city.  The Tower, constructed in 1348 AD, replaces the original destroyed in 1204 AD during the "Sack of Constantinople" during the 4th Crusades. To get to the top of the tower though involved 200 some feet of winding staircases, which after walking up the hill I don’t

think I could have physically done.  I snapped a picture or two, and was on my way back downhill, I considered rolling. At the bottom of the hill, I caught the tram over the bridge and back to Sultanahmet.

As I exited the tram near my hotel, I bumped into Carpet Salesman #3, Burak, the nice one.  He asked what I’d seen today.  He then asked me to dinner when he got off work at 7 pm.  I went back to the hotel and rested, and then met Burak for dinner opposite his Uncle's shop. Great dinner, lots of good conversation, and then – you/I knew it was coming -- the sales pitch, only different.  

Burak didn’t want me to just buy a carpet, he wanted me to buy 10 carpets! It seems they are coming to a trade show in the U.S. later this year – each carpet they sell will require an 18% excise tax to Turkey, AND a 10% tariff to the U.S. – as a tourist “and good friend” I could buy 10 carpets “for personal use” and get them tax free – once in the U.S. they would resell them, and split the 28% savings with me.  Hmm, about that bridge in Brooklyn.  I declined.  He replied “oh, this is a lot to think about now, and we’ve had several drinks, promise me you’ll come by the store in the morning and we’ll talk.” I paid the bill, so that I’d not be creating any presumed obligations, and called it a night.  [since I’m using old clichés here, how about another of my favorites: “my mother didn’t raise any dumb children.”]

Day 4 - Monday, February 22, 2016

Determined to not deal with shopkeepers today, I headed back to Beyoglu early this morning.  The tram that stops near my hotel goes across the Galata Bridge, and then heads north hugging the waterfront to Kabata, the end of the line.  At Kabata is the Dolmabahce Palace, constructed between 1846 and 1856, when the Sultans of the Ottoman Empire decided to replace the royal residence with a more modern structure in the style of the European monarchs.   Unfortunately for me, I had not checked my guide book before leaving the hotel, the Dolmabache is closed on Mondays.   Not a complete loss however because the phenomenal waterfront café at the entrance to the palace was open, so I stopped for a leisurely brunch while watching the ships & ferries pass by on the Bosphorous.

Where the tram ends at Kabata, you can transfer to the Funicular, which is a different type of tram designed to go uphill, at a tilted angle, to Taksim Square, which is literally at the top of Beyoglu (think of the Funicular as a ski lift, only enclosed).

Taksim Square, if you read the newspapers, is where so many of the student protests have occurred in the past few years.  It’s is a very large, and very ugly, plaza, devoid of trees – though there is a park north of the Square.  The Turkish government does not particularly like demonstrations however, so there is a permanent “temporary” construction project going on in the Square, which rather hampers demonstrators from massing in large numbers anymore.

Taksim Square is also one of the two transfer points for airport buses, so I was scoping it out for when Daniel would be arriving later in the week.  Conclusion: way too convoluted of a process, and not just because of the construction.  I decided I would check out the other transfer point some time later. 

I then set out in search of the Pera Museum and/or the Museum of Innocence, both of which are just south (and downhill) of Taksim Square.  I did not succeed in finding either one, but enjoyed exploring anyway.  What I did find was the home, now museum, of author Orhan Kemal, a name I knew from reading Mustafa Ataturk’s biography (the first President of the Republic of Turkey) before I left for Istanbul. Kemal’s father was an exiled political dissident in the first years of the Republic; so Orhan Kemal was jailed when he returned Turkey – in jail, he shared a cell with Nazim Hikmet, Turkey’s famous poet, who was also considered a dissident.

The Taksim neighborhood is today occupied by young professionals and university students, and is home to much of Istanbul’s nightlife (none of which I did this trip).  It is also gentrifying rapidly (a Chicago comparison would be the Lincoln Park neighborhood in the 1970’s). The up and down cobble stone streets and narrow uneven sidewalks however, are brutal.  The locals damn well better be young, and podiatrist must be the “guaranteed employment” occupation in this city. The Taksim is also home to most of the foreign Consular offices in Istanbul, as well as the renowned Istanbul Modern Art Museum, and hosts a vibrant international music scene.

I continued meandering the neighborhood, until worn out by the hills; I grabbed the tram at Karakoy, at the bottom of the hills, and headed back to my hotel.  After resting my legs, I strolled out to a buffet and pigged out before calling it a night.

Day 5 - Tuesday, February 23, 2016

On Tuesday morning I returned to visit the Dolmabache Palace, where the Ottoman Sultans lived and governed from 1856 until 1922. 

Main Gate to Palace

In the aftermath of World War I, European powers confiscated much of the territory of the Ottoman Empire and divided it into new states, ostensible independent, but obedient to them.  Sultan Mehmet VI stood by helplessly as this occurred.  The Sultan’s political and military incompetence enraged military leaders who then deposed him, and in 1923 created the Turkish Republic and installed Mustafa Kemal as President.  He would later become known as Mustafa Kemal Ataturk.  President Ataturk lived at Dolmabache Palace, using it as the seat of government while the official capitol was being moved to Ankara in central Turkey (Anatolia).  Ataturk would later live out his life at the Palace.

To understate the magnificence of the Dolmabache Palace, it is opulent.  

This picture is out of sequence, it was taken from the Bosphorous Tour Boat a few days later.  However, it shows the Dolmabache Palace layout: tall building on the left is the Sultan's Residence & Administrative Palace, the center is the Harem where the Sultan's immediate family & mistresses lived, and the shorter building on the right is the Crown Princes' Palace, where the Sultan's teenage and unmarried male children lived.

Photography is not allowed inside the Palace or any of its buildings without special arrangement – use this link Dolmabache Palace – to view the interior (I was there in February, the gardens were not yet in bloom). People touring the Palace (guided tours are available in Turkish and English) must wear plastic bags over their shoes to lessen the dirt tracked onto the elaborate carpets, granite , marble and parquet flooring.  The Palace is divided into three main buildings:  the Administrative (public) Palace which includes the Sultan’s residence, the Harem where the Sultan’s wives and minor children live (and over which the Sultan’s Mother rules), and the Crown Princes’ Palace, where the teenage and unmarried sons of the Sultan live.  Today, the Crown Princes’ Palace is the National Museum of Palace Art and contains portraits of Sultans, military battles, Naval ships (the Naval Academy is immediately to the north), and gifts to the Sultans from other Rulers. My one and only complaint with the Palace, is that the tour, at four hours, is rushed.

After touring the Dolmabache, it was already mid-afternoon and I still needed to check out the alternate route for Daniel to come into Sultanahmet from the Gokcen Airport. The first option had been via Taksim, which I had already dismissed as too complicated.  So, I decided to take the ferry over to Kadikoy, which is a neighborhood and borough on the Asian side of the city – it seemed a logical second option.

Ferry boat rides in Istanbul are the ultimate in civilized public transportation, and cost the same as getting on the bus or tram.  It takes roughly a half hour to get from Eminonu, the transfer point in Sultanahmet, to Kadikoy.  Fewer tourists go to the Asian side, and consequently fewer locals speak English, yet it still was not a problem visiting it.  The ferry drops you off at a terminal that is not much different from the Staten Island Ferry in NYC, maybe cleaner.  Surrounding the terminal is a collection of sidewalk vendors, and a few restaurants.  I found the airport bus location right away, this would be a breeze for him to do. 

The area immediately surrounding Kadikoy is the “morning” market place for fish, fruits and vegetables – not to mention shoes, spices, jeans, and you name it.  I browsed until sunset, and then had dinner at one of the seaside restaurants. Up the waterfront a short distance was a huge building that I could never figure out what it was until I got home (Chicago) and happened on a Turkish newspaper article about its restoration – turns out it is an abandoned rail station that brought people and goods from the interior of Anatolia to the port of call to Istanbul and places beyond (see Haydarpasa Station).

As I returned to Sultanahmet on the ferry, the evening views were priceless.

Day 6 - Wednesday, February 24, 2016


This morning I was determined to find the Pera Museum and the Museum of Innocence so I took an early tram & funicular back to the Taksim neighborhood. I was easily able to find the main drag, Istiklal Caddesi (Independence Street) because it has San Francisco-like cable cars running down it [as an aside, people rule the streets here, not cars or trains -- they routinely will step in front of trains, knowing the train will stop]. 

And again, I became frustrated by my inability to find the correct side streets, as I pointed out earlier, street signs are at a premium in this city of curving up and down avenues.  When I finally gave up I turned a corner only to find myself in front of the Pera Museum.  I entered and decided on a leisurely brunch at the museum's cafe, resting my feet and calming my nerves before touring the collection.

The Pera was one of my target destinations because it houses what are known as Orientalist paintings -- works of art that portray Istanbul as "exotic" and "eastern." This style was popular when the Ottoman Empire was at the height of its power, and imported western style painting techniques to Istanbul. The Art Institute of Chicago has a handful of these kind of painting, but they are rarely on exhibit.  The Pera's collection includes what is without question the most famous of them all: The Tortoise Trainer by Osman Hamid Bey. For more information about Hamid Bey, check on the Ottoman History Project Journal of an Ottoman Painting

Having regained my geographic bearings, I then made my way to the Museum of Innocence several blocks away, only to realize I really had been painfully close to it on Monday. It is literally in a congested valley. This museum is a unique place, it is the embodiment of Orham Pamuk's book of the same name.  The book tells of a long ago love affair. The museum, with displays that match the chapters of the book, provide remembrances of that affair -- theater tickets, etc., even cigarette butts. It may be time for me to re-read the book.

After the museums I meandered, up and down, to the Karakoy neighborhood on the north side of the Galata Bridge where I unsuccessfully searched for the Jewish Museum of Turkey (23,000 Jews remain in Turkey, a country which served as an escape route for Jews fleeing Europe at the start of WW II, as well as those fleeing the Spanish Inquisition in the 15th century). I never could find the museum, I think because it is purposely not well marked, in addition to being on a curving street sans-signs.


Day 7 - Thursday, February 25, 2016

Daniel , a.k.a. my "remote boyfriend," arrived from Tel Aviv this afternoon.  He's someone I know from Chicago, before he moved to Jerusalem.  He also hosted me on my trip to Jerusalem, Tel Aviv and Masada a few years ago. He arrived at Gokcen, Istanbul's other major airport, located on the eastern edge (Asian side) of the city. He was able to take the airport bus to Kodikoy, and then the ferry to Eminonu (the main transfer point in Sultanahmet).

We spent the rest of the day catching up, and then took a stunningly beautiful evening stroll through the Sultanahmet museum campus.

View from the Tan Hotel's roof top cafe

Day 8 - Friday, February 26, 2016

Today is going to be a busy day; I’ve been waiting for Daniel’s arrival before doing the interiors of several landmarks, beginning with the Hagia Sophia, which will be our first stop.  It is difficult to explain the significance of it without delving into world history, and Istanbul has a very long history; a Blog post just does not provide the space for that (nor I the expertise). Let’s simplify it like this:  Seven Hills/Byzantium (Ancient Greece, Roman Empire); Constantinople (Eastern Roman Empire, Byzantine Empire); and Istanbul (Ottoman Empire, World War I, and present day, the Republic of Turkey).  

St. Sophia was built as a Christian church in the late part of the Eastern Roman Empire stage, and then replaced by Hagia Sophia in the Byzantine era.   It was constructed to impress, and to establish the dominance of the Christian Church.  When the Ottoman Turk’s captured Constantinople it was renamed Istanbul, and the Hagia Sophia was turned into a Mosque.  When the country became a secular Republic, the now 1,500 years old Hagia Sophia was converted into a Museum.

The restoration brings back some of the original Christian mosaics that had been plastered over, and leaves the medallions with Islamic verses.  It’s an impressive and respectful balancing act.   I’ve include several pictures from the inside, but I really suggest watching this video for the history of the Hagia Sofia and the restoration project.

 

After a the sensory overload of the Hagia Sophia, we decided to take the tram over to Istanbul's Grand Bazaar.  Since neither of us are big shoppers, it held little interest for us other than as a tourist attraction.   It's very large is my only real lasting impression.  One does lose one's sense of direction inside, and we ended up exiting on the north side of Bazaar, strolled over to check out the main gate of the University of Istanbul, and then doubled back to the local main shopping strip that the tram runs down, but ended up walking back to Sultanahmet.

After resting awhile, we went to the Galata area and walked across the Bridge, and then back to the hotel for the night.

Entrance to University of Istanbul

Day 9 - Saturday, February 27, 2016

First thing Saturday morning we headed over to the Topkapi Palace, immediately north of the Hagia Sophia. If you’ve read Orham Pamuk’s early books, The White Castle and/or My Name is Red, then you will feel quite at home in the royal palaces of Istanbul.

The Topkapi was the residence of the Sultans, and the seat of government for the Ottoman Empire from 1465 to 1856 A.D., both were moved to the more modern Dolmabache Palace.  Rather than a single building, the Topkapi is a large complex of smaller buildings, including an imperial residence, the harem, administrative offices, support staff & artisans, and of course the Imperial Treasury.  It is situated on the shore of the Sea of Marmara as it splits off to the Golden Horn to the northwest, and the Bosphorous due north.  The name of the Topkapi derives from its original entrance , the “canon gate.”

Again, taking pictures inside most of the buildings was limited – and strictly forbidden in the Treasury.

I’ve provided a few pictures, and included two links to clips of the Palace, and of the Treasury, which includes the 86-carat Spoonmaker’s diamond, and a large basket of emeralds.

View from the terrace of the Sultan's residence looking across the Golden Horn toward the Galata Tower.

As we were exiting the Palace, we visited the Istanbul Archaeology Museums (ignore the music in the video) which are rather eclectic -- keeping in mind that the Ottoman Empire at its heights spanned from North Africa, to Persia, to Rome.  The Museum's holdings includes significant collections of Egyptian, Roman and Ancient Greek items.

Next up, on this sight-see-until-you-drop day, was the Basilica Cistern close to the hotel.  I had already walked by it dozens of times without quite comprehending its scope.  At its root, it’s your basic underground water supply.  It was built in 532 A.D., at the same time as the Hagia Sophia.  It received fresh water from several miles away via a Roman aqueduct.  What makes the Basilica Cistern different is (a) its sheer size, and (b) its ornamentation.  Mind you, the entire purpose of a cistern is for it to be entirely submerged in water, so why make it ornate?  In its present state the cistern still functions, but is no longer relied on, and the water, complete with fish, is only a few feet deep.   The pictures are eerie; this would make a great movie set (Godzilla, Night at the Museum, James Bond or Alien, pick your genre).  And no, the picture of Medusa from the Cistern is not upside down, it was purposely positioned that way to show Christian contempt for pagan gods.

Throughout this Travel Blog I've posted several links to You Tube videos.  If you haven't watched any of them, this is the one you should watch: Built by Emperors, Buried by The Conquerors.  It covers the archaeology of the Cistern, the Hippodrome, and the "no longer there" Great Palace, where Emperor Constantine lived.  

Our final stop for today was to be one that I have been looking forward to ever since I arrived: the inside of the Blue Mosque.  But, as we exited the Cistern, the call to prayer at the Mosque was just sounding, and tourists are not allowed during the service; we would have an hour to fill, not difficult to do in Sultanahmet.   

Immediately across the plaza from the Mosque is the Museum of Turkish and Islamic Art, so we went there.  It is not a particularly large museum, so it fit into the schedule perfectly.  It has a couple of specialty collections.  First is an extensive collection of exquisite calligraphy, primarily from ancient copies of the Qur’an, appropriate considering our next stop.  Additionally, they have an sizable collection of Turkish carpets (fortunately, salesmen aren’t allowed).

Now the Sultan Ahmed Mosque – a.k.a. The Blue Mosque.   I had never been to a mosque before, which is part of the reason I was completely excited about our next stop.  And, to say the least, the Blue Mosque is not just any old mosque.  Constructed at the order of Sultan Ahmed and completed in 1617, the mosque features six minarets.  It dominates the neighborhood (see first picture of this Blog) which is no small fete when one considers it is next to Hagia Sophia.    

Slipping off our shoes, and stashing our cameras, we soon discovered that what is impressive on the outside; is completely grand on the inside.  Its large prayer area is watched over by some rather incredible architectural design.  The Blue Mosque gets its informal name from the blue tile work inside, particularly its domes.   The interior pictures below are from various official websites.

Tongue in cheek:  So, what does one do after a full day of immersing one’s self in Byzantine and Ottoman culture?  You check out American culture by going to the newly released movie Dead Pool starring Ryan Reynolds.  Yes, that’s what we did.  I’m not making that up.


Day 10 -- Sunday, February 28, 2016

It would be inexcusable to vacation in Istanbul without taking the Bosphorous tour, so we scheduled the full day excursion as our last sight-seeing day in the city.  The boat leaves from Eminonu and travels north to where the Bosphorous meets the Black Sea.  The river has played a helping or hindering role in much of military history.   Along the way you will pass palaces, summer homes, modern bridges and ancient fortresses.  Two of these fortresses are opposite each other at the Bosphorous’ narrowest point, strategically positioned on hilltops where they effectively could control sea traffic for centuries. 

At the tour’s northern most point, we had a two-hour shore-leave in the town of Anadoly-Kaugi, a picturesque little village featuring endless gifts shops, restaurants and a Turkish military base.  We climbed to the top of the hill there to check out the ruins of an ancient Byzantine fortress which (on a non-foggy day) would provide views both of the river entrance and any ships approaching on the Black Sea.  The path up to the fortress is dotted with Evil Eye talismans to ward off evil spirits, and hopefully protect travels from slipping on the stone stairs. 

After the return to Sultanahmet, we feasted at an excellent restaurant near the hotel – Daniel on eggplant, me on a lamb stew – before calling it a day.

Day 11 -- Monday, February 29, 2016 (a leap year)

Time to go, and I'm truly not wanting to, there are many more things I would have loved to see -- the Whirling Dervishes, the Golden Horn tour, the day trip to Princes Island, more of the "modern" Istanbul, visiting a Turkish bath, more of the Asian side, and much more -- but alas, one has to go home eventually.

Remember those ferry boats I raved about as civilized transportation?  Well, they came close to unraveling Daniel's flight home -- he planned to take a ferry boat over to the Asian side to get to Gokcen airport -- but it seems the ferry boats don't run on foggy days!  He made it out on time, via cab, barely.  I took the tram to the Ataturk airport without incident.

Would I go again?  At the drop of a dime!  Would I advise it to other people?  Absolutely, with one caveat: the hills really are exhausting, keep that in mind.

Spelling: there are multiple spellings of Hagia Sophia.