Being a tourist can be forbidden by the Government

It hits like a wave with the sound rolling in from the distance until you can feel it…the morning call to pray. I thought that this ritual would be broadcast at the same time, but it seems as though each mosque has its own pattern that’s slightly different from the ones around it. I had been warned about the call to pray by Mamoud the hotel owner when asking what time the doors to the hotel (which was small) open in the morning. I wanted to be up early to take some sunrise photos. “Is this your first night in an Islamic country?” yes…”well you will have no worries about waking up in time”. The hotel is nestled 30 metres from a mosque and jet lag had me semi awake before the wave began. You don’t normally hear different mosques as daylight noises drown them out but in the early morning quiet you can hear them from far away. As the wave becomes stronger I’d assumed the local mosque had had its turn and thought how accommodating that it turns down the microphones for the first session. Then, just as the wave you think is not going to crash on you breaks at the wrong time, the local mosque starts blaring its soulful strains. The result - I am now fully awake.

I surprise the dozing night watch who then lets me out into the crisp early morning cold. The rain from the day before is gone and the streets are bare accept for a few workman, the occasional tripod wielding tourist (the real professionals) and a large fluffy street dog that seems to like my company (I named him Mozart - because he looked like a wolf). Being able to walk around the monuments and streets without hordes of people is refreshing and allows me time to get my bearings. Mozart walks 10 metres ahead and looks at me when I need to make a decision about which way to go. Funnily, I feel safe with this city dog and stay with him for awhile. I should have trusted his judgement as he headed in one direction and myself in another - only to find it was a dead end., but I lost him after that - he had better things to do than wait for someone who doesn’t take directions very well when he does give them.


The Blue Mosque is orange



Aya Sofia at dawn





Mozart on patrol with me in the gardens of the Blue Mosque

Taps to cleanse the patrons

Copper roof of pavilion

One of my incredible talents is to say and read words incorrectly - some colleagues at work say it’s a ‘Helenism when I do so. As I look round I’m impressed that the concept of Faith seems to be a big part of Istanbul. I’d often heard the word used in a Christian context, but didn’t realise that it was also significant to Moslems. Yet it seems to be written everywhere in the park at momuments and it is only when I see it written on the workmen that I question myself and realise that it is not indeed Faith, but Fatih- the local council area. Hmmmm….still I prefer my version which is soooo much nicer than the fact it was another Helenism.

Knowing that hordes of bus tours descend on the major icons by mid morning, I head off for Aya Sophia straight after breakfast. It’s breath taking. The architectural genius of the building is only outdone by the décor. It’s easy to imagine the ceremonies that would have taken place here, the crowning of Emperors, state marriages and head of country visits. The mosaics gleam with gold and other rich, deep colours and though some are damaged, they still sing the beauty of their youth. There is a column within the church that legend says belonged to St Gregory the Miracle Worker. Placing your thumb in the hole and turning your hand 360 degrees is supposed to cure any ailments if your finger emerges moist. With my cough still present, I eagerly place my thumb in the hole and I swear to you it was moist (or cold - no moist it is!) and I expect to be cured by tomorrow.

Heading to the Blue Mosque I have arrived at bus tour time and the crush of people make the experience almost worthless. There are 14 boys on the other side of the hall studying the Koran. They are protected by the banisters preventing us going on the large pray floor. How can they feel anything but on display with all these people?

Aya Sofia interior - this does not do it justice



The Weeping Column that will cure my cough (eventually)



The remaining glory of Archangel Gabriel

I love the faces on this mosaic of Mary, Jesus and Empress Irene
Irene: Ok, so you may be Jesus, but I’m an Empress!
Mary: Here she goes again..blah blah blah..just ignore it
Jesus: Hey dudes, peace out man and let’s get some more of that incense burning…it’s doing crazy things to my vision

Holy Cleaning

A quite spot in the Blue Mosque

Blue roof and wall tiles that give the Mosque its name

Note to self…don’t go into underground areas the same time as a hundred 7yr old school kids…well it was kinda fun. Entering the Basilica Cistern (which was constructed with pillaged columns and plinths from cities captured in Roman conquests) the lighting signified a dignified place of reflection. I entered just as a school group was arriving and as we descended into the cistern one small child thought he would try the acoustics with what could only be described as a Turkish “cooee”. It worked well and encouraged by the effect more children decided to give it a try, much to the violent “shooshing” of their teachers. The effect on the rest was too intoxicating and soon the whole group were yelling and laughing as the sound bounced off the cavern walls and echoed with gusto. The embarrassment of the teachers was burning their cheeks as grumping old tourists glared and tut tutted. Any attempted at verbal control was useless so they quickly marched the kids up the exit stairs and the noise faded away - they must have set the world record for the shortest visit by 100 people! I regretted not joining in with them when I had the chance - the remainder of the visit was ordinary. Ghostly carp patrolled the waters as the different column types slipped by on the damp walkway. The cistern was lost for hundreds of years and on discovery, was then used as a dumping ground for junk and the occasional corpse. One of the restoration finds was two huge (2.5m) Medusa heads acting as supports for columns at the back. Nobody knows where they came from, but they had been placed upside down and on the side during construction.

Ghostly carp unaffected by marauds of ‘cooeeing’ school kids 

Atmospheric but over priced Basilica Cistern - no dead bodies today!

Upside down giant Medusa head

It’s time to find the Spice Markets and some lunch so I head in their general direction…down the hill and towards the Bosphorus! I get lost of course, but that just gives me the chance to see the life behind the tourist façade. Eventually I get there and I pleasantly realise that this area has more Turks buying their weekly supplies than hawkers of tourist ware. Hungry, I order a chicken kebab and make my way to some free benches in the square. Unfortunately they are free because they sit underneath a tree that houses pigeons who practise their skills aiming their ‘parcels’ at the bench seat.

There is an old lady who sees me eyeing the unsuitability of the bird benches and I notice a spot next to her with a small bag that seems to be rubbish. I gestured …is this hers - may I sit here? She speaks to me in Turkish and seems to indicate that the spot was taken but as I move off, she yells something and moves over making a small space between her and the bird droppings. I think that it’s arrogant to expect people in non-English speaking countries to speak English so I had made a cheat sheet to try to communicate better. My language prowess being what it is I had written the phonic spelling for key words to help me. Unfortunately a simple thank you was “Te-skek-kewr e-de-reem”. I mangled the words enough for the older lady to just look at me as if I was mad, I gave up and just said thank-you…which she seemed to understand. As I sat there munching on my kebab, I really felt the need to connect with this lady and cursed myself for not learning more Turkish. So silence prevailed and I watched the people in the square go about their normal lives. This was punctuated by multiple tourist leaders holding signs saying ‘Group 5 Red’ and camera happy followers with the appropriate coloured bandanas in penguin lines marching behind them. I felt more connected sitting next to the old lady even without speaking than I would have in a group like that which made me feel somewhat better.

Spice markets hold goodies like spices!

I had been having a horrible time trying to get the blog going as each time I logged in I would only get a message saying "Bu siteye erişim mahkeme kararıyla engellenmiştir", which essential means this site is forbidden by the Turkish Government. Finally, I managed to get to a update blog page, but I can't see what the photo’s are or what the words are like, so if things look at little werid…I blame the government! Maybe it was the magical ingredient in cough medicine :-)

Days until I reach my bike: 10
Nice encounters with dogs:1
Tourist icons covered: 5
Times I wish I knew more Turkish: 8
Altercations with Turkish Government censors: 1
Lessons learnt: Cooee while you can if you see school kids near tourist icons