A city of color and beauty

Tuesday, September 26, 2023

We have breakfast at the Old Port Hotel on the busy strip of Old Istanbul.

Besides scrambled eggs and fresh bread, there are dried fruit and nuts.

Under the vegetable shelf, we can choose from 4 kinds of olives and various cheeses.

Today's plan is to see some historic sites in the Old City so we wander through the park Sirketci - where there are castles and fountains (this one's water mimics turning the page).

The levels of history are evident in the variety of stonework and building additions.

One piece of marble 18 meter (51') tall is a memorial dating back to the 400s.

Along the way, we pause and perch at the edge of tour groups. The Muslim tour guides teach us something surprising about mosques.

"People often ask us why mosques have domes. The Muslim warlords got the idea from the churches in areas they conquered. All the churches had domes. To make them a mosque, they just added a minaret (tower). The minaret is how you can tell it's a mosque and not a church." Hm. I did not know that.

"In keeping with modest Muslim values, this sultan built only a small palace after he destroyed his rival's place," says another, pointing to a large solid structure. Is he being sarcastic or honest? Opulent materials and lavish engineering are spread around the city.

A 30-something man says hello and walks with us, introducing himself and his city. His Kurdish family originates in eastern Turkey. He points out Roman ruins 4 meters (12') below the current level of the city. "The Sultans had to demolish everyone's story and build their palaces and mosques on top of others to show their power."

He walks us to the Little Hagia Sophia - Holy Sophia/wisdom mosque. We're directed to take off our shoes and I have to cover my head with a scarf hanging near the entry. "It was a church for 900 years until the Ottomans conquered Istanbul. They turned it into a mosque." The ancient baptismal area is still there.

So is the Bible reader's platform, now used for chanting Islamic prayers and sermons.

Above, the ceilings have been painted with Islamic motivs.

In a side room, several men are counting stacks of lira, donations given by attendees.

The man takes us to his family's rug shop. First we climb to the rooftop so W can take pictures of the city. Then he takes us into the rug repair area. An expert is restoring a 200-year-old carpet fringe. His hands loop and spin.

Where do they get the materials? "We have to match the colors, so we take apart a badly damaged rug from the same time period." He shows us skeins of wool from a rug that is being deconstructed near the weaver's lap.

There's a bright robe hanging on a nearby wall, a flutter of squares lined with small hanks of hair. "What is this?" I ask.

This horse's ceremonial coat, lined with tufts of hair from family members, is used for weddings and special milestones.

We sips water before Turkish coffee is served in a small cup, saucer underneath. I can't believe I actually like coffee - it's strong but not bitter and it doesn't leave rancid oils on the tongue (my objection to every other cup of coffee I've tried.)

The man and his uncle explain what we're looking at as an employee unrolls rug after rug on the wood floor. They show us how the nap affects what we see from one end or the other. This one is a replica of an ancient Kurdish pattern. My heart pounds at the delights unfolding in front of us.

"No pressure," they say all along the way as the sales pitch rolls for 3 hours and an additional cup of apple tea (yum). Rugs in every color line the room.

"The weavers create natural dyes for cottons and wools." Grasses produces greens, eggplant gives a subtle purple, and other vibrant shades are made from materials at hand.

We find one we like and will wait overnight before we decide. The extreme pitch puts us off. (Yet at night, I dream of the rug above, not the one I loved in the shop.) We will do other things for a few days.

Not far away is the Grand Bazaar, where we're the target of enthusiastic sellers. Some, like the rug dealer, tell us Americans pay whatever they ask. Their quotes different wildly (i.e. the same bowl for $3-10? ... or the same rug for $3500-15,000 US?) We keep walking and smiling.

Turkey is famous for its ceramics.

The bazaar is sectioned by type of wares. Spice and tea shops are everywhere.

W examines goods in one booth.

The bazaar is covered with arched ceilings and we walk on marble floors. Marble is durable underfoot and as common (polished and rough) as brick or granite in other parts of the world.

Once outside through an arched exit, we pass a shoe and sport store. I spot funky rollerskates - 4 wheeled with doubles at the back for balance.

Between the shops are eateries where you sit on kilim-covered pillows, lamps glowing overhead.

There are stores of sweets and specialty foods. See this one? It sells only honey from shelves lined with jars of glowing gold.

This olive tree is still small in its planter but full of fruit.

We walk back down the hill toward our hotel, eyes captured by old buildings between modern shops.

This Vespa is in mint condition.

At a grocery store, baskets of halva (sesame-based sweets) remind me of the treats Grandma use to give us. We buy 2 kinds.

As night falls, we pass a food vendor slapping ground meat and condiments into a roll of thin dough. There's a long line of young clients. That's usually a good sign so W adds himself to the line and chooses his supper. 

We take it up to our room, sharing the donor and small pieces of halva. Today we've covered 14000 steps and 18 flights of sheer wonder, color, and smells.

Read more:

*In God’s hand are the depths of the earth; the heights of the mountains are his also. Psalm 95:4

*Worship him who made heaven and earth, the sea and the springs of water. Revelation 14:7

Moravian Prayer: Extravagant Creator, your generosity knows no bounds. May we each take time today to stand still, look around, and take in some of the beauty you share with us in nature and each other. Thank you. Amen.