Istanbul is not exactly a clean city. There is a lot of dirt in the air, and the humidity grows as the day progresses. We left the hotel and headed off to find the Hippodrome. We had printed off maps on google before leaving the country, and they are bound in Emily's handy notebook. Looking at the maps I determine that e need to head left and as we walk we waited for the last of the stores to open and decided to stop for coffee (for Emily) and breakfast. We went into one of the tens of bakeries we passed and asked for "iki" as I pointed to the pastry of choice and stumbled around asking for coffee. Even if we try to speak in Turkish, we must be saying something terribly wrong, because we are obviously hard to understand, luckily broken English and sign language have done the trick thus far.
We had a delicious pastry (Neviste!) and Emily ate, yes ate, some Turkish coffee. In her words it did the trick. Leaving the bakery we continued "left" only to get really mixed around, because none of the landmarks we were expecting were quite where they were suppose to be. The Mosque up on the left, did not get to us until two blocks after we expected it and after reviewing the map two miles later, we determined we went in the wrong direction. Apparently Mosques are a bad judge of location, because as we turn around and trek the four miles back in the other direction we stumble across a total of five gorgeous mosques. One we chose to stop and look at had a man praying out front on a designated rug situated facing the proper direction (East to Mecca). Fascinated at the rigidity of the motions and precise movement in prayer, I probably stared a few seconds too long.
We came across a man trying to sell tour guides and he offered up some free informations, graciously pointing out the blue mosque and the AyaSofia to us, however it turns out the information was not free, because we could not get him to stop trying to sell us his books and postcards even as we walked away, and eventually our non-desire to buy postcards caused him to drop his price from 5TL to 2, so Emily bought 12 postcards for around 1 USD and we were in peace again, and headed in the direction of the Blue Mosque! The pillars stuck out from behind the trees first and then the massive dome and eventually the perfectly structured garden. We were caught staring by another local man, probably in his early 30s who asked us if we were from Australia, second guess, New Zealand. Earlier in the day we had been guessed as Polish and later we would be guessed as German, but no one ever suspected us as American, probably due to our impeccable dress:). The man whose name leaves me, told us everything he could from a distance about the two massive Mosques on either side of us and as he started to explain the the Blue Mosque was currently open to the public, but the AyaSofia would not open for another hour, he decided we needed a free tour guide around the Blue Mosque, or Sulatanamette as it is called by the Turkish. He was so helpful, and we learned so much, from the Muslim rituals, to the best places to take pictures. He had done this before, and we knew why. The typical salesman, enticing the prey with hospitality. The final stop on his tour was his family run rug shop. We were greeted with tea from whom I assume was either his or his brother's wife. She never spoke to us or even smiled, but was very kind in a different manner hard to describe and served delicious apple tea. After hearing all about turkish rugs and choking on the $500 price tag attached to the smallest one, we left embarrassed that we could not afford to support such wonderful people who dedicated the time to show us around and were so hospitable... wait... ok, the feeling of humility was gone when we realized how much we had been suckered by great sales tactics, and yet we laughed that they would choose us (two young girls) to devote all that energy to, when in our heads it should be obvious that we probably do not have all the money in the world, but again, I attribute our carefully planned dress to making us look more mature I suppose (thank you mom).
We explored AyaSofia next and at a fee of 20TL, but the history here was amazing, a previous roman catholic church, mosque, and now museum, the juxtaposition of the two religions laying side by side in decor and architectural design was a sight seemingly impossible. Emily had a tour guide book that she read aloud as we walked through the halls mentioned in the text and the tour was great. So much information and free, thanks to the library:), everyone else paid extra for a tour guide who spoke their language, so we had to navigate around clusters of Germans, Japanese, and British families. It is always fun to hear so many languages in one place. Especially when marveling in the history of a building full of diverse backgrounds.
As we walked the streets we stumbled upon many great sights, parks, bazaars, and men slowing down to almost a stop to stare at us as we walked. I thank God for the busy streets and the sense of awareness he gave me today of my surroundings. However, at one point we had accidentally walked down a dead end street, and my heart began to race once I realized the expected outlet of the street was not there. Back tracking along the street feels like a dead giveaway that we were temporarily confused. We retreated as quickly as possible and decided to ask for directions. Good call, because once again, we were completely turned around. Something about how this city is built and I cannot keep my bearings straight.
It was only noon when we reached the Bosphorous cruise, but we could feel the pain of the last 38 hours creeping up on us. Emily's feet and my back were throbbing and we both were having the hardest time keeping our eyes open, but we made it through a two hour cruise and headed back to the hotel around 2:00 when we immediately fell asleep.
The city at night...
It's 9:00pm and I have woken from the "nap." However, it is dark and we are alone, and Emily is still not ready to wake up, so we decide it is a good idea to stick out the night in the hotel. The sound of the Mosque prayer and worship service belts over a loud speaker and the Priest singing the Karan is an eire but amazing sound around 9:30, people are busy and cars are rushing out for the evening. I get a call from Adam, our exchanger from he airport, and he offers to take us around tomorrow afternoon. The sounds of people shouting on the streets does not stop until midnight and I am able to get a few more hours of shut eye.
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