Saturday, September 30, 2023
Today's the day for the Jewish (and artists') quarter of Istanbul: Balat. David at the front desk recommends the train/tram. Thanks, Google: it says the tram takes 30 min and the bus 9 min. Reality is the opposite. We intend to buy some artwork and see 2 Orthodox churches. Nearly every Christian building has been turned into a mosque so it's nice to see places for worship of God in Christ Jesus.
We pass the bookshop with the interesting pottery dish set. I just have to take off the top and the tray to see how the mugs are puzzled atop the salad plates. Dinner plates are on the bottom. If it's true that "curiosity killed the cat" and I were feline, I'd long be dead. I don't need more dishes but I won't forget this clever stack.
We stroll under the bridge to the bus stop and wait over a half hour for the bus. It never comes so after the rain starts, we walk a bit further to hop the tram to get there in no time.
Balat is a funky area, full of ancient history. Newer buildings are grafted into ruins and older structures.
Antique stores sell dishes, keys, clothing, furnishings, and paintings. This one displays 2 suits of armor in the window.
The area is known for its juxtaposition of art, religions (Orthodox and Muslim), vintage cars like the VW bugs spotted a few times, and apartments with shops at ground level. We never actually find the paintings I want to buy - either the artists are resting (it's midday) or we don't wander the right streets
We hop off a few blocks from the St. Stephens Orthodox Church (late 1800s). Here's the gasp-worthy spectacle in pictures: you enter gold-leafed metal gates.
The altar at the front is painted with life-sized icons.
The reader's seats (R: Mary and L: Jesus) are carved wood but the rest of the structure is metal.
The icons are written in Bulgarian Orthodox style - we pause to thank God for his goodness, reading some of them.
Above the altar, which has 2 icons, the chandeliers hang - but there is supplemental lighting around the church.
I wonder what worship looked like with candles lit over a century ago.
Every part of this building is beautiful, even looking back to the entry from the second floor.
The ceiling takes my breath away.
Upstairs are halls on both sides. Orthodox believers don't sit much in their services so the benches are few.
The gilded metalwork and stained glass windows exist in stunning contrast. Panels painted with marble patterns sit between gold and green trim.
I sit in the choir room upstairs, dead center to the hall. The red glass glows around me.
The choir may have the best view of the altar ...
Wrought-iron banisters provide a safety railing for circular marble staircases on each side.
As we leave, we notice prayer candles, which can be purchased in the foyer. Suggested donations depend on candle size and length of burning.
Before we leave the church grounds, we circle the building.
As is usual, important leaders or members are buried on the church grounds.
Up up up, looking at the outline of the tracery against the sky.
In the garden, a funky fountain is done in mosaics.
I'll have to look up the significance of the shape - in Orthodoxy, every detail has a meaning.
It's well after noon when we depart. W has read good reviews about the pastries at Grandma's Velvet Cafe so we pause there for lunch.
W orders an olive-filled pastry and Turkish coffee. The water is to cleanse the palate before the coffee. The Turkish delight candy is ... just everywhere.
I order lentil soup and vegan meneman (walnuts, tomatoes, parsley, green peppers, etc.) W confirms that I ordered vegan when I taste it and it's an egg-y meneman. We call the server to ask if this is vegan.
Our young server insists this is the plain
meneman I ordered. I send it back. I want to try the vegan version, which is outstanding. On the bill, he's put both. Had I known, we would have taken the wrong one home for tomorrow's breakfast. Oh well, it's dumped out somewhere already. He avoids us and other servers bring out our food.
We planned to ask if the young man has to pay for his mistake, in which case we would gladly reimburse the amount. The assumption that I ordered the wrong thing and should pay for it is less pleasant. The soda water also never arrives, so the other guy who brings the bill removes that charge.
The vegan meneman is delicious! So is the soup. I'd eat here any time ... but request an experienced server.
Beside our table, vines climb the stone walls of the indoor-outdoor space. See the electric plugs and light switches, Turkish style? Indonesian appliances would plug in perfectly.
As we start the climb to the second church, we look back down toward the waterfront. The colorful houses are typical of the Balat neighborhood.
We ascend 13 flights according to my watch; but descend over 400 steps according to my count (when I'm paying attention.) Decades ago, I heard my mom counting as we ascended the marble staircase in
Burg Neuschwanstein (the castle that inspired the Disney logo).
I asked what she was doing. "Counting. I always count steps," she said. So do I. Counting is hereditary? What next?!
Many Muslim families have moved into the area. The road at the top of the hill is lined with shops selling burquas and Arabic writings. We've gone too high - and have to wind our way back halfway down to find
Saint Mary of the Mongols. This Greek Orthodox church is one of the only Istanbul churches that's remained Christian over the centuries.
W and I loop up and around the church looking for an entry. Its profile is stunning against the sky.
I shoot memories from many angles. An old man tells us it's used as a school with only occasional tourist access. The gates are firmly locked today. (We find out about the visitor's bell at the entry long after we're gone.)
Back down the hill we go. Three young women chatter together as they push a baby carriage down toward the bus stop. In this neighborhood, many Muslim women wear a full coverage black "tent" and long skirt. The triangular cutout for the face starts above the eyebrows, angles down the cheeks, and ends at the chin. (No hair, ears, or necks in sight.)
Near the bottom of the hill, a cat joins a couple having coffee, licking itself clean on their dining table. Gross. A plethora of cats live here, crossing the roads, lurking in corners, lounging on windowsills, eating scraps put out by passersby, and shedding hair everywhere.
We catch a bus and hop off a generous kilometer (2/3 mile) from our hotel. The last item on our shopping list is a beef rub (barbecue seasoning.) That should not be difficult to find in the Spice Bazaar, right? Except that Turks roast meat for kabobs and donors rather than North American bbqs.
One seller offers us tastes of the spice mixes in his bins. We choose our preference. He shovels 200 grams each into 2 plastic bags and lays it in a machine. In a few seconds, the bag is vacuum-sealed and ready for travel. Cool.
Look at the heaps of spices. There are seasonings for yogurt, salads and vegetables, breakfast oils (in which you dip fresh-baked bread), and meats. There are flowers and roots to flavor tea and sweets. If we stayed longer, I'd try as many as possible.
It's sprinkling rain when we leave the hotel before lunch and when we return to walk through the market. By late afternoon, it's dry with high clouds.
What a city! We walk +5 miles (8 km), under 12,000 steps. With a roiling stomach last night and as we head home, I'm happy to stay in while W goes to the bookstore for the books purchased this morning. We make an early night of it. The airport taxi is ordered for 6:00 a.m. tomorrow.
Read more:*Better is a little with the fear of the Lord than great treasure and trouble with it. Proverbs 15:16*Keep your lives free from the love of money, and be content with what you have. Hebrews 13:5
Moravian Prayer: Source of our being, love is a powerful currency of which there is no limit when we rely on you. Please help us steward all our resources, including monetary ones, with that love you so lavishly bestow on us. Amen.
