I got up late, packed, checked out and went to meet Büland for breakfast, as we had arranged the night before. He had already bought some, so I couldn’t take him out. Then I took a taxi to Chora, or Kariye Camii, a Byzantine church with the best frescos and mosaics from that period anywhere in the world. Very impressive indeed - so much so that I had to buy the book about the place. It would be a beautiful building, well worth the visit, even without the detail inside.
Mosaics inside Chora
Next, I took a taxi to the Süleymaniye Camii (the great mosque overlooking the Golden Horn built by Suleyman the magnificent's great architect Sinan), but arrived there just in time for midday prayers (I was getting good at this), so I had to wait for almost 30 minutes to go in. One of the vendors outside took advantage of the lull in passing trade, and joined in the prayers - in the doorway outside the mosque. The only problem was, he was facing the wrong way. More like Samarkand than Mecca. One of the other vendors pointed out this error, somewhat irately. I later asked the latter for his price for the small evil eyes he was selling. 100, he said. I told him I could get ones twice the size for half that price in the Grand Bazaar. He seemed unimpressed.
The mosque was stunning. The simplicity of much of the interior - most of it white - contrasted with the beautiful red-and-white and black-and-white patterns in the stonework of the pillars. Indeed, the interior is much less clumsy than that of the Blue Mosque, and in that respect resembles the Ayasofiya more - though the exterior is less messy.
After this I walked past the university and its book stalls to the Bazaar once more, and bought a flag and some evil eyes (4 for 100!), and I met a guy who is in one of the photos in my guide book (so I got him to autograph it). He promptly tried to sell me a carpet. After this, the Egyptian bazaar for some pepper, and then the Galata bridge for a freshly caught and grilled fish in a roll from one of the small fishing boats moored there.
A quick hike from there brought me to the Galata tower, which affords magnificent views of the city. As I was exhausted once more, I grabbed a table with what must surely be one of the best views in the world - the Golden Horn, the Bosphorus, Topkapi Palace, the Blue Mosque, the Ayasofiya, and, beyond that, the Sea of Marmora. I ordered a "Shaay". The waiter scowled at me, and said "Chay". Oops, speaking Arabic already. I decided to have dinner there, too. It was pretty awful, but I was able to stay there and recharge my batteries for about 2 hours.
My next destination was the Küçük Ayasofiya Camii, one of the oldest buildings in the city, and one of Justinian’s first (built as the Church of St Sergius and St Bacchus). The taxi driver didn’t put on the meter, so I asked him to, but he just got shirty. So I asked him how much it would cost to the mosque. $10, he said. I told him where he could stick his cab, and walked. I then bumped into Büland and Ahmed, and finally got to take them out for a drink. Then I pressed on to the mosque. It really was beautiful, a simple, yet fascinating design. The three men outside invited me to join them for tea. One spoke reasonably good English, the others less so. It turned out one was a muezzin at that mosque, the second was a muezzin at a nearby mosque, and the third was the son of a muezzin at the same mosque. I got them to explain a little about muezzin and Islam in general - it was all very interesting. Now I know what it was that was waking me up at 5 every morning! Apparently, the muezzin in Istanbul have a good reputation - the best in the world, to be precise. But then again, this bunch was biased. Having heard them in Damascus, though, I think they were telling the truth!
They invited me to have a look at the other nearby mosque, the Sokullu Mehmet Pasha Camii. It happened to be prayer time (as usual), so I was placed on the balcony to watch! It was fascinating. The mosque itself was stunning, covered in Iznik tiles. There are even pieces of black stone (such as in the minbar), allegedly from the Ka’aba in Mecca.
Inside the Sokullu Mehmet Pasha
After this interlude I went to the Yesil Ev for dinner. Very much the place to stay in Sultanahmet, and definitely better than the Ayasofiya. The food was good, too, and not too expensive. Afterwards I went to Orhan’s again, to say goodbye - and he tried to sell me a carpet again. Then to my taxi, and off to the airport. Much too early, of course. I had tons of time to kill. Fortunately I ran into some Portuguese chap from Goa, who studied at LSE and then in Bologna, and now lives in Leicestershire. He was off to Syria, too, and had noticed my guide book. We chatted until it got to plane-boarding time, both nervous of what lay ahead of us.
We boarded the BAe 146 (Hatfield-built, I guess), and Part II of the Great Adventure was under way. The view on take-off was magnificent, as we turned and followed the Golden Horn. Unfortunately, I was on the wrong side, so I didn’t get a view of the Sultanahmet area. The flight was a bit like a game of musical chairs, with people changing seats constantly. It was very cosmopolitan, too - a few Brits, French, Germans, Turks and Arabs - and, curiously enough, a large group of Japanese, including one off to teach Karate in Damascus. Did I sleep on the flight? Did I hell!
We landed early, and were through immigration in next to no time (although it did take three officials to check my passport and visa!). By this time, there were four of us: Rob and Ronnie, two guys from Liverpool, had joined us. Amazingly, none of us was stopped by customs, and we shared a taxi to Damascus for $20. The guy at the counter tried to con me by swapping a $5 note for 4 $1 notes, but I noticed this scam immediately, as I was expecting it. Good start - I thought Arabs were supposed to be honest. The journey to town was interesting enough, with pictures of the illustrious President everywhere. Also a proliferation of Syrian and Palestinian flags. That guy certainly revels in the fact that he believes he has taken over the mantle of the protector of the Palestinians.
We stayed in the Hotel Ramsis - what a dump. I shared a room with the Portuguese chap, whose name eludes me. The first dilemma was how to use the single sheet provided: Sleep under it, on the dirty mattress, or on it, under the dirty blanket. The problem was partly resolved by the fact that it was so hot that the window had to be kept open (it was broken anyway), and that one therefore could not sleep because of the noise emanating from Martyrs’ Square down below.
Last Updated on 09 November, 1999