Istanbul...not Constantinople

Why did Constantinople get the works?
That's nobody's business but the Turks!

Sorry, couldn't help myself; I love that old song, and actually I DO know why Constantinople "got the works". This blog may be a three-parter as there is so much to tell; you may have to tune in to future postings for an answer. Listen to me, I'm marketing the blog! Do read on.

When I knew I would be coming to Slovakia last year, I decided early on that one of the cities I really wanted to visit was Istanbul. (say ee STAA bol) This city offers a unique history of Byzantine Christianity reconstrued as a Muslim metropolis, and now part of a republic presently seeking entry to the EU. Only a two-hour flight from BA, Turkey seemed a world away from Slovakia and a country I probably wouldn't have targeted as a destination point from Chicago. So flying Turkish Air, Istanbul here I come! (Turquoise leather seats and some of the best food I've ever had!)

But first the trip to the airport, where Branislav, our Fulbright-friendly airport service driver, assured me he would be water-spraying his girlfriend on Easter morning. I asked why and he said, "Tradition!" Cue Zero Mostel in "Fiddler on the Roof"! (When Branislav picked me up after Easter, he said he stayed home and only sprayed his family: his sister, his mother and his 74-year-old grandmother, who thought it was funny. Sometimes perfume is also sprayed, but he had stuck with plain water.)

I arrived at Ataturk Airport, named after its first president who is larger than life even though he's been dead for years. It was Mustafa Kemal 'Ataturk' (father of the Turks), the brilliant statesman and military genius who was the first president of Turkey following Allied occupation after WWI. The Republic of Turkey came into being in 1923, and Ataturk instituted sweeping reforms in an effort to keep pace with Europe. The european calendar was adopted, then the Swiss civil code and the Italian penal code, which abolished the role of religion in law. The turban had been banned 100 years prior, and now it was time to toss the fez. Language reforms were instituted, and although Ataturk's speeches were said to be compelling , almost no one could understand him as he was communicating in an as yet undescipherable language! And the name Constantinople, thought to have imperial associations, was changed to Istanbul; some decades later westerners finally got the message.

My hotel included an airport transfer where I found myself squeezed into the front of a seatbeltless van with some Muslim women filling up the back. After a highway drive involving some creative merging, I was let off first at my place, The Apricot Hotel. Met curbside by Mehmet, manager and all-around-concierge at The Apricot I was shown to my place, the new acccomodation around the corner. There I had 2 pairs of complimentary slippers so I wouldn't trample the turkish carpet. My room had no telephone, but everyone had complimentary internet in the reception and everyday was a surprise. One night I had no water, another no electricity, still another no heat but never all in the same day. And we never could figure out how to work the TV. But Mehmet partially comped me on the room, opened a bottle of wine the last night, and sent me home with another bottle of wine. When in Istanbul, stay at The Apricot!

Mehmet encouraged me to rest, freshen up and when I felt like it, return to the main hotel to discus what to do and how to see Istanbul. As our place was only 3 blocks from the Blue Mosque, that was where I began my mid-afternoon tour of the city. (Mehmet had written down the five daily prayer times, and it being 3:30, I decided it was a good time to visit.) I could see the mosque from my hotel, but rounding the corner, the sight was breathtaking: gardens surrounding the huge multi-domed building with its six minarets. We visitors walked through the huge courtyard to the entrance where we were instructed to remove our shoes and store them in plastic bags. Also provided were scarves which were for use as wrap-around skirts or head scarves. One woman wearing a denin skirt that didn't cover her butt (it was more like a wide belt) over leggings was sent back to use a wrap: good call in terms of respect AND fashion.

The Blue Mosque, officially called Sultanahmet, was the last of Istanbul's imperially commissioned mosques, completed just before the fall of the Ottoman empire. Mostly the Blue Mosque is big and smells a bit "feetsy". The interior is a mish-mash of tiles, giving the appearance of a predominantly blue mosque, but the space is still overwhelming. I would pass the Blue Mosque everyday on my way out each day, but I think it was the dramatic night time lighting which really set off the structure.

From there I strolled down to the Grand Bazaar, 15th century forerunner of today's mega-malls. There are sections for gold, textiles, carpets and more. in fact, there are 5,480 shops spread over 65 alleys; take THAT, Mall of America! Shopkeepers are usually the owners, who joke, cajole and use come-on lines to get you to stop. "I remember you..." "Excuse me,..." or "Are you a movie star?" It is expected that you will barter, and come away paying about half of what he (always a he) started out at. I probably could have done my Christmas shopping there but didn't have the energy. Instead I enjoyed browsing (not exactly encouraged) and did buy a few small things.

Dinner that night was at The Metropolis cafe near my hotel. The enticing wood burning fire drew me in, and the food was wonderful, especially the eggplant which I ate in some form or other everyday. I ordered meze, a sort of hors d'oevre plate and then had manti, pasta filled with lamb and served with yogurt and mint. Washed it down with an Efes (I think) beer and went home and collapsed in bed.

My stay at The Apricot included breakfast, as do many places in the city. I woke up plenty early as I did everyday because the first amplified call-to-prayer is at 5:30! We were served our meal up on the rooftop, looking away from the Blue Mosque but with a view of the Bosphorus Sea. Breakfast was a huge spread, including eggs made to order and drip coffee catering to the many english-speaking people staying there. (The Apricot, and especially Mehmet, had received rave reviews on tripadvisor.com, so the place attracted people who had read the recommendations.)

My first full day I headed out to Topkapi Palace which was also walking distance from my place. I wasted a lot of time in line and was anxious to get in; there is so much to see that I was told to allow at least half a day. It was Good Friday and I saw lots of school groups on field trips, always with male teachers.

When you enter the palace you walk through Disney-like Imperial Gates, but complete with very un-Walt-like niches to display the severed heads of rebels and criminals. I had purchased my ticket over by the Executioner's Fountain, where the axe would be washed after the deed was done. They seemed to be big on the bloody display since this was flanked by columns where heads could also be displayed.

The Palace was the main imperial grounds for the Ottomans for over 300 years, a combination of military command central and residence for the royal family and their entourage which numbered in the thousands. As you visit the palace you go through a series of gates, passing through areas that go from most public (Court of the Janissaries, the palace guards) to most private, The Third Court, where the sultan would receive (but not speak to) foreign ambassadors. No sultan would ever speak to a non-Turk so the Grand Vizier would conduct the conversation. In the Sultan's private chambers was a grandfather clock presented by Queen Victoria and set to 11:05, the time of Ataturk's death.

Need a diamond-studded set of chain mail? Searching for the perfect dagger, with emeralds as big as ping pong balls? The Imperial Treasury has it and a lot more outrageous items, many of which have never left the confines of the Palace. Also included in this display were medals that they awarded to themselves and others, including ones traded back and forth between the Pope and Sultan. This whole complex guards the Golden Horn and has a spectacular view of the Bosphorus.

Next door at the Archeology Museum, one of the most interesting things I saw was the long section of iron chain (with links the size of my forearm) that had stretched across the Bosphorus to bar the entry of invaders. Not to be outdone, the frustrated sailors took to the land, putting rollers on their ships, detouring above the Horn and putting in to water below the no-longer-restricting chain.

Part of the reason the museum had been established in the mid-19th century was to prevent the further flow of antiquities out of the country. Thanks mainly to the Crusades and various Venetian vessels, many pillars, mantles and statues left the country only to be installed elsewhere. When I visited Venice last February I saw St. Mark's Basilica, where much of the facade is older than the building itself. The famous Horses of St. Mark's had been "appropriated" from the Hippodrome in Constantinople, and these horses subsequently hoofed it around Europe. Napoleon managed to secure them in 1797, but they were restored in 1815. Since 1990 they have been in a exhibition room, I think in Venice. I didn't know it at the time, but what I saw were bronze reproductions. Inside St. Mark's is a purple marble statue of The Four Tatrachs...but the missing foot of one of the represented emperors is in Istanbul, with little chance of man and foot ever being reunited.

After this I hustled over to wait in line again to buy a ticket "for one people" for the Harem. When I finally attached myself to a tour, I realized our guide had probably done one tour too many that day, namely ours. It didn't help that our Spanish contingent was complaining that the tour was in english, although just barely. She had such a heavy accent it was difficult to understand her. What was all this "ultimate" stuff she kept referring to? Oh, OTTOMAN! And then we're in the Sultan's sun room - sun room -sun room, she kept repeating Oh, THE SON'S ROOM! (A-hah, as they say in Slovakia.)

Harem means forbidden but it may just as well mean prison. The sultan was the only male, plus princes and eunuch guards allowed in; the harem was "home" and entire world to its women for almost four centuries. I bought a book titled, The Mystery of the Ottoman Empire, that said harem meant the "home of happiness". Hardly. Originally, sultans kept female slaves but only married the daughters of Christian princes for political reasons, slaves being less valuable than a good (or even not so good) horse. Eventually, this tradition changed and the Harem became a place where wifely candidates could be kept and selected. This contributed to a life of intrigue where women jockeyed for favor and hoped to mother a son, who could eventually become sultan, and she the valide sultana (like a queen mother). The head eunuch was also one to be consorted with and it wasn't unusual to kill a mother or son who got in the way. A concubine could rise to the level of Odalisque, then Favorite. If a Favorite became pregnant she moved up the ladder to Felicity, making it possible to become one of the sultan's four to eight wives. Talk about stressful! Meanwhile, princes were also kept in the harem, virtual prisoners until the eventual time when they might become sultan.

My book turned into an unexpected laugh out loud read because of the translations, some of which sound like they've been written by a fourth-grader. There were many references to "chemical sons" sitting on the throne, and here are a few quotes:

"He became a father after he had sat on the throne." So THAT'S how they did it; probably had something to do with being a chemical son...

One hundred years later, "Abdulaziz sat on the Ottoman throne after he had died in 1861." Eeew! " Abdulaziz was not so fond of women as much as his father and brother had been." Mmmm...

Speaking about one of the Sultan's wives: "Hurem was ruthless. While she was taking the steps with great confidence, discarding anyone who might create problems for her. She was completely done except for Ibrahim Pasha. She became jealous of her husband's affection to that guy, too."

The building complex is magnificent in its decadent splendor. Adorable? Well, not so much but that's how the book describes Murad III's mansion, as well as Ahmed I's library on the following page. Must have been a vocabulary word-of-the-week.

I wrapped up my tour and grabbed a simit, a sesame seed bread ring sold on the street. The vendor was selling them to men and GIVING them away to women. Although it had been a little drizzly earlier on, it cleared up quickly. Each day in Istanbul was sunny and became increasingly warmer throughout my stay, reaching into the low 70's. (In BA it was in the 80's.)

Steps away, between the Blue Mosque and the Sultanahmet sits the majestic but comparatively shabby Haghia Sophia (Ayasofya). Dedicated in AD 537 by Emperor Justinian, Haghia Sophia ( Divine Wisdom), was meant to prove the new capitol's worth, following the fall of the Roman Empire. Justinian's cathedral towered over all else and was topped by an amazing dome, the largest one ever built. In fact, it took over 1,000 years to out-do the dome, when Michelangelo did so with St. Peter's in Rome, 1590. The church also served as a huge reliquery which was extensively looted by its own "Christians" in the Fourth Crusade; bronze horses and footless statues weren't the only items that ended up in European cities. Later, the Turks took control and the church grew minarets, turning into a mosque. Buttresses were added at different times, most mis-matched. The exquisite mosaics were plastered over, but that actually saved them as they weren't discovered until the middle of the 19th century.

When the Ottoman Empire fell, there was a push to return Haghia Sophia to the Greeks and another campaign to return it to the Italians. The solution of the new Turkish Republic was to deconsecrate the building and declare it a museum. It remains a mixture of a church-turned mosque, now museum in a country with not quite enough funds to adequately restore this gem. Nevertheless, it was still the most amazing thing I saw in Istanbul.

I visited one more site that day, because the Yerbatan Sarnici (Basilica Cistern) is right across the street, hidden under a simple one-story building entrance. Built during the Haghia Sophia days of Justinian, the cistern is an ancient reservoir that was pretty much forgotten for centuries. In 1545, A Frenchman named Peter Gyllius noticed people getting water by lowering buckets through holes in their basements; one thousand years later, the cisterns were "re-discovered" Playing havoc with Istanbul's infrastructure, the Yerbatan is an engineering feat: 336 columns supporting brick vaulted ceilings spaced about 13 feet apart. Walkways have been installed so you can go see the entire undergound system. Long before the cistern's restoration, James Bond explored by boat here in "From Russia with Love".

Dinner that night was another wonderful celebration of lamb and eggplant, and dessert was good too. I discovered "Turkish Delight" (lokum) a chewy, bite-size, hand-made candy in many flavors dipped in powdered sugar. I had pistachio, coconut, caramel, lemon, saffron, orange, rosewater, mint and lots more. Many of my friends enjoyed the apple tea, a popular drink here. I tried it, but I'm not a great tea afficionado. And I do love coffee, but not Turkish coffee. I ordered it one night after a meal (the only time it's really taken). I couldn't get more than two sips down my throat. I knew that the coffee was going to be thick, but I didn't realize it's prepared by boiling it with sugar. It's extremely sweet, thick, strong, and for this tourist, undrinkable! One night back at The Apricot we were having a coffee discussion. Mehmet explained that preparing Turkish coffee is a time consuming, fussy process and many folks just don't bother. The most popular coffe by far in Turkey...NESCAFE! (Another yuk.) More in another blog...