churches, mosques, and palaces - part one

Written by Barbara Anderson
The day after Larry's birthday we successfully found our way to Sultanahmet to visit some of the sites that had eluded us earlier. The ferry crossing was one of the least crowded we ever have taken. We sat in a lounge area and had tea, all omens of the lovely day that followed.
Getting off the ferry at Eminonu, we found ourselves in the usual crowds. Larry stopped to have corn on the cob, an omnipresent treat at little stands along with the sesame covered simits (bagels), and then we found our way through an underground market (where we bought a very cheap watch for me) to the trolley stop for the Sultanahmet area. The atmosphere had changed; the buildings were older, the streets narrower, and the shops selling everything a tourist could ever associate with Turkey were filling every spot we passed. We were in the heart of the old town, the place most tourists know as quintessential Istanbul. Restaurants were abundant with prices marked up for the tourist market...and the hustlers worked their trade outside every shop trying to lure the hoped for customers inside.
But our destination was Hagia Sophia, the ancient church dedicated to Holy Wisdom (not St. Sophia as some of the guidebooks say), which became a mosque when the Ottomans conquered Constantinople in 1453 and then became a museum after Ataturk. One of the greatest examples of Byzantine architecture, it is the treasure of the city, a monument to man's religious aspirations, and a building I had studied in art history. Only St Peter's in Rome was more famous; for almost 1000 years it was the center of worship for the Christian faith in the eastern mediterranean. Legend has it that Mehmet the Conqueror sprinkled dirt on his head before he entered it as a sign of his humility in entering the church. But then he had the mosaics remaining after the earlier attacks of the Iconoclasts covered with plaster, and minarets were built to surround it, signifying the end to its place in Christendom. And for almost 500 years it was a mosque...Apparently, there have been movements to turn it into a church again, as a sign of reconciliation, but perhaps its status as a museum to the centuries of believers of 2 faith is more appropriate.
All the descriptions and all the pictures fail to prepare you for the space inside, for the sense of being in a giant dome seemingly floating on air. For Larry, it was just an old building with way too many Arabic inscriptions covering what must once have been a glorious display of mosaics. but I think he was playing the role of a latterday Innocent Abroad (I can't wait to reread Twain when I get home)...And certainly, the long walk up a series of ramps did remind us of years of walking up similar ramps (albeit 1200 years younger) to B deck in Ohio Stadium. On the upper level, you can see where the emperor sat during services (the ramps provided access for the horses carrying him to his seat) and the mosaics that have been uncovered. Perhaps in time, more will emerge from behind the plaster, and Aya Sofya (its name here) will reveal more of its Christian origins. But I kept reminding Larry that this great building with its massive dome became the prototype for subsequent orthodox churches and mosques, which is why its shape seemed so familiar to him as a kind of mosque...
But I was struck by some of the mosaics which remain, especially a hauntingly beautiful figure of Christ, which captured His humanity in a moving way. I felt I was sharing a moment of worship with centuries of earlier believers..That feeling would be asserted even more strongly when we visited the Chora Church a few days later. How the dome must have inspired worshippers when it too was covered with mosaics...

Leaving Aya Sofya, we walked to the nearby Blue Mosque, built to rival the grandeur of its neighbor. I donned my scarf but still wasn't adequately covered in the eyes of the people directing visitors to remove their shoes. I had memories of the Dome of the Rock over 30 years ago when Saskia and I were told to leave the courtyard area because we were indecently dressed (I was wearing a dress with cap sleeves that barely covered my knees). Now I understood what had mystified us then and , to be honest, had infuriated us since there had been such rude intrusion of commercialism by Christian sites in the Old City, like the sign "Jesus Prison Souvenirs." As we waited to enter the mosque with its 6 minarets (to surpass the 4 surrounding Aya Sofya), a Turkish man offered to "guide" us. We had been warned to avoid the would be guides, who would offer a tour for a price, but this man only wanted us to visit his carpet shop afterwards. However, his commentary on the essential elements of Islam did get in the way of my appreciation of the glorious tiles that fill every surface, the brilliant blues in the tiles giving the mosque its name. Certainly, its interior is more beautiful than its older sister nearby..And we hope we get another chance to enter it and appreciate its beauty on our own terms.
The visit to the carpet shop was low key; we sampled tea (which we have learned is customary in every shop), talked generally about the different kinds of carpets, and realized how little we knew. But we had never planned to invest in a carpet during our stay here; we didn't even know where we would put another carpet in our house. I may sometimes wish we could remove the wall to wall carpeting in our living and dining rooms and replace it with hard wood floors, a change that would make oriental rugs a necessity. But that idea is in the wish category with a mountain home...|We left without buying a carpet as we would 2 other stores into which we were lured later in our travels. So proudly we think of ourselves as travelers, not tourists to be lured into the souvenir shops, and yet there are always moments when the itch to buy, to be the tourist accumulating junk and not just memories takes over...Since I'm never carrying any money, I may be tempted, but I have no way to succumb/
We had hoped to have some time to get refreshed at the Marmara Hotel before meeting Larry's cousin for an evening with our Turkish relatives, but he was already waiting for us when we emerged from the funicular in Taksim. He drove us along the Bosporus, past the old city walls to the apartment building where his daughter lived. We were to join the extended family for Rosh Hashana. Larry needs to add his own memories of a lovely evening with cousins who quickly made us feel at home, sharing Meral's cuisine (including dishes she only prepares once a year). Lively children , Nedem's grandchildren, reminded me of ours at similar ages although there was no family resemblance The little girl was wearing Micky Mouse socks, just like Anni did for so many years...
Nedem dropped us at Kabitas where we took the last ferry of the night to reach the last #19 bus of the night. We had spent a day visiting church, mosque, and family...What better way to end our first weekend of venturing out past the hills at Yeditepe.