City of the Ezan

The calls start early, the first apparently at 3.03am, although we've only been aware of the ezan at dawn, long before we would normally be even semi conscious.  The few times we have missed an ezan we have found ourselves regretful, and eager not to miss the next; the muezzin bring a sense of order and peace to the day.  The call from "our" mosque became recognizable very quickly and we could pick it from among the others ringing out across the city, calling us home.  The mosque itself, Sokollu Mehmet Pasha, is small by Istanbul standards, and was built in 1571-2 ; with it's ornately tiled and richly carpeted interior, this one held more attraction for me than the grand, but tourist filled mosques elsewhere in the city.

We are welcomed here, even into the sacred spaces; religion is no barrier and the people seem glad to be able to share their pride in their treasures.  The Ottoman way has continued although the rule has finished, and there is a great acceptance and tolerance of other views and values.  

The age of much of the city is hard to comprehend, the cellar of our hotel was in existence 700 years ago and the hotel itself has gone through various makeovers in it's 300 years.

Designed by a physicist and a mathematician, Hagia Sophia is the most awe inspiring piece of architecture I have seen yet. Serving as both a church and a mosque over the centuries, time has left it's mark, evidenced by the tilting thick marble floors upstairs, the holes in the walls where the 2nd Crusaders plundered the religious relics, and the foot worn marble steps in the nave as the believers came to seal the redemption of their souls.

The large population, and the need to withstand long sieges, so long ago, required a reliable water source. Parts of one of the main aqueducts towers over the city, linking the place through time - a constant stream of traffic runs through the aqueduct instead of water now. The Bascilica Cistern underneath the teeming streets above is dark and cool after the heat. Water condenses and drips from the iron bars high above, installed centuries ago to reinforce the arches held aloft by columns relocated from all parts; the Byzantines were into recycling way back then, even if it meant plundering a Greek temple or two. 

By contrast the Grand Bazaar is a bustling, sweltering, crowded and noisy environment; the slightest interest shown in any item is immediately followed by an insistent invitation to enter the air conditioned inner space and an offer to purchase at a price inflated to many thousand percent, special to you because you are lucky/beautiful/handsome/knowledgeable, of course. Getting one's fix of a temperature 6-10deg below outside, and not succumbing to the patter is a skill in itself. Stumbling out of there and into the full force of the afternoon sun made us make a classic mistake, which Mark paid for in the next 24hrs.  Who knows what water was used in the cold drinks that we purchased just outside, but it definitely made it's presence felt!