Monday, March 21

Mystical Istanbul

Istanbul came about midway through Lisa's whirlwind trip, but we're going to start there because it was so gorgeously exotic and exciting (and included our NYC friends Anna and Holger). Spanning the crux of where the European and Asian continents meet, separated only by a thin slice of waterway, Istanbul (nee Constantinople and before that New Rome) has stirred the desires of many an empire. It's an axis point of history itself, the place where Christendom becomes Islam, the spiritual home of the Eastern Orthodox Church but now firmly a Muslim capital as cosmopolitan and secular as you are likely to see.

It's a place where you can lull quietly sipping Turkish apple tea in the shadow of the great mosques, spellbound by the sound of the call to prayer, or haggle till your heart's content in the bustling bazaars (though you might walk away with only your knickers, the Turks are hardcore merchants), or feast on the endless variations of meze, or get ripped off by a Taxi driver's sleight of hand or taken to the cleaners buying rugs (see Bruce's adventure's with Husayin the Magnificent Rug Merchant below). It's a good thing we had Anna (a.k.a. "the mean Greek") on hand to help us navigate the terrain, afterall the Greeks were here first.

Haghia Sophia/Ayasofya, Istanbul/Constantinople, it's nobody's business but the Turks really, but this it, the birthplace of the Eastern Church, a marvel erected in 537 AD by Emperor Justinian, the largest dome ever constructed until St. Peter's was built in Rome. Haghia Sophia was lost to the Ottomans in the 1400s; the church became a mosque and minarets were added. It kind of gives it the effect of a big birthday cake with candles stuck in.

Lisa, overwhelmed with the moment.

The stunning Blue Mosque.

A highlight of our trip, the Whirling Dervishes. It's hard to get a good shot, because they just don't stop whirling!

The mean Greek herself, with Holger, where we stopped for a little Turkish coffee, baklava and meze, mmmm.

Some very pretty Turkish rugs.

Me, Anna and Lisa with Husayin, the rug dealer who seduced Bruce into parting with a nice chunk of his paycheck, there must have been something in the apple tea he served us. But the rugs are just beautiful, so beautiful in fact I'm afraid to put them down and have Sedra drool all over them.

Spices at the aromatic Egyptian Bazaar.

The labyrinthine Grand Bazaar, the mother of all bazaars and a city unto itself. It's brimming with with rugs, ceramics, lanterns, jewels and about 5000 peddlers who want to know "where you from"--we started saying "Singapore" just to throw them off.

A detail at the Grand Bazaar, some of it dates back to the ninth century.

Lisa getting into the spirit with a head scarf.

The nicest music merchant in town, playing the whatchamacallit.

I'd go back to Istanbul just for the pomagranate juice.

So would Bruce.

Another view of Haghia Sophia.

Inside Haghia Sophia, where you can still see a fading cross.

More of the Blue Mosque.

Some of the New Mosque.

The view from our hotel (on the tip of Europe), where you could see the Asian shore across the Bosphorus Strait.

Maniacly giddy from numerous purchases.

And finally, nightlife in Taksim, it's all just a blur.