Exploring İstanbul

---

It has been great to be able to pause for a while in İstanbul. I will have been here for five days by the time I leave for Iran on the Trans Asyan Ekspresi on Wednesday, charging through Turkey to be in Tehran by the weekend. The city has enough to explore and experience to stay for years, and the hospitality makes that tempting.

I have woken with the early Call to Prayer, in time to see the sunrise over the Bosphorus. That combination of ancient melismatic wailing and glorious golden sun over the scattered boats is a wonderful start to the day. From Darlene's flat it is a bus and a tram ride into the old heart of the city, a journey which travels alongside the water, past dozens of fishermen and women, old wooden houses, and an avenue of large photos of the revered Atatürk, scourge of the ANZACs and founder of the republic.

The old Covered Bazaar has been a highlight. Seemingly endless narrow alleyways, crammed with stacked fezzes and tiny shops oozing carpets, and wider marble boulevards filled with gold jewellery and silver tea paraphernalia. The crowds are impressive, but all seem to wander about with an air of stunned curiosity. I resisted buying a fez for two Euros, and instead picked up something that I have wanted for a long time - a pair of Turkish slippers, complete with the traditional pointed curled up toe, and the traditional haggling to get the (undisclosed) price down. They have been very welcome at the end of long sight-seeing days.

The shop keepers in the Bazaar have had centuries to perfect their sales patter, and all seem to speak good English. A common opening remark is, "Which carpet says 'take me home'?" Or, "Where are you from?" To this latter question I replied to one man, "Guess." He said, "France."
"No."
"Yes, you are French."
"No, I'm not."
"I assure you, you are."

I spent Saturday seeing the sights with Darlene and her friend Deb, who was staying for the weekend. We had tea near the Bazaar, and shared a Narghilè - the traditional waterpipe, with an elaborate combination of pipes, herbal-blended tobacco-substitute and burning coals. Very relaxing and all part of the experience of feeling Eastern. Sunday saw an exploration of the Topkapı Palace, the vast former home of the Sultans. I indulged in the local joys of crushed pomegranate juice, and simit - ring-shaped bread covered in sesame seeds, sold cheaply on every corner from brightly coloured carts, or by walking sellers balancing trays on their heads. Walking back - the thick traffic encouraged walking - I passed the fishermen and women, now in their hundreds, and their buckets of still-swimming fish and seahorses.

On Monday I took the ferry with Deb out to Haydarpaşa train station, on the Asian side of the Bosphorus, to buy my ticket to Iran. The journey only cast about 30 pence, and gave an impressive panoramic view of İstanbul. The station itself was a spacious mock Gothic structure with many gorgeous features, such as the brass turnstiles in front of each ticket window. The station was right by the sea, and seems to be the perfect place to begin a long journey into the Middle East. I bought my ticket with out any problems, and enjoyed immensely asking the ticket seller for a "First Class Sleeper to Tehran, please." Afterwards, back on the European side, I found the non-tourist version of the Covered Bazaar - the place where the locals buy their cheese, spices, tobacco, fish, nails and tea towels, in a hundred crowded stalls on a steep hill leading down to the Golden Horn. The colours of bright greens and reds, and smells of strong herbs on one stall and pungent sea food on the next was enlivening.

Today I visited Hagia Sophia - the awe-inspiring Byzantine church, that has dominated İstanbul since the sixth-century. I was stunned by the beauty and scale inside; the immense size of the dome was overpowering, even with the massive inevitable scaffolding in the centre. The decorated cielings, recovered mosaics and more-recent 'calligraphic roundels' were all an incredible sight. The only İstanbul experience that may come close to comparing with the Church of the Holy Wisdom will be tomorrow's final experience - a trip to the Turkish Baths.

---

Comments

[Mum]

French!
Oh, to think that we have kept that secret from you for all these years and now you know ...that you are, indeed, French! xx

[Mary Hutcherson]

enjoying the journey
Since I will never have the chance to visit the places along your way, I thoroughly enjoy experiencing them through your messages. Many thanks.