Sophia museum overlooking the Bosphorous unravels in layers - the facade belies the sparkling interior, the quranic inscriptions wrap below the biblical depictions, overlay stands pre-eminent not destruction. Istanbul over Constantinople - mosque over cathedral - and now a museum under restoration - summarises the city.
An invitation from Omer and Erkan for a 2 hour round-table meeting - got me to Istanbul. Let me add a few more vital details - the hotel was booked for 3 days and Deepam had the city in her crosshairs since I was there alone in 2015 and we were to stay by the Bosphorous and this was the last flight for Monaal before she turned two years. An early morning flight with a 2 hours delay got us to Ataturk airport, a powerful gust of air swept us of our feet as we stepped off. Standing at the kerb waiting for our car to pull in, the cool breeze gave a Belgian heartache to me.
Heading off to our hotel through the crowded city, which so much reminds me of Delhi. Each few blocks turns up a historical monument with layers of history and nuances. Interspersed are ultra modern structures and the vast majority of a growing, developing, bulging middle class in a city.
Our intention was to see what we could by foot. Starting off from our hotel we crossed the Taksim square by the side and headed
down the Istkal street towards the Gallata tower. Our first stop was the old Waterhouse pumping station which is now the tourist office. A octagonal marble structure jutting out in the street and square, giving the yellow light against the blue dusk was a welcoming start. The square has stores with baklavas lined up in all colours and shapes, seeming like a puzzle of of sweet that has been assembled. We stepped in one such shop, asked for two baklavas and a Turkish coffee to set the tenor of next few days. All was okay except that Monaal had more sugar from the sachets than the baklavas we had. Stepping out in the main street which was lined by big stores, predominantly pedestrian and the upcoming holiday season had ensured an abundance of glitter all around. We came across the Turkish ice cream shop and it was a riot of laughter in bursts. He just does not seem to ever let you eat it, as fast as you may try, the scoop is peeled away just when your tongue is out. And finally I thought it was enough and he would just let it be now, before it became annoying, he too cooled off but just with the tissue on the cone was put and finally in the hand with the mouth open, again it was snatched away for the final squeal from the onlookers. Intermittently were boys sitting and playing instruments and singing, in a language alien to us, the sound was melodic, rough and attractive.
Carrying on the street became narrow and pavement shops started to appear. We stopped over considering to but some painting, but at the end as usual - nothing was purchased. Suddenly the Gallata tower came peeping through. Built in medieval times and nearly intact as it stands today. We could visualise the medieval purposes it served. A tower that stood the test of time for thousand years is now to be guarded on all sides with plenty of police and armoured cars. Seems paradoxical but now we have to guard what has stood the changes of time and centuries of the weather. By this time, the travel and the walk made us tired and a taxi ride later we were putting MV to sleep. Soon after we headed down to the river side restaurant in our hotel (Hilton by the Bosphorous). The meal, sitting by the river and the ambience took us away from the daily rig-ma-role we face in Delhi, bringing back our days in Brussels.
Heading off to our hotel through the crowded city, which so much reminds me of Delhi. Each few blocks turns up a historical monument with layers of history and nuances. Interspersed are ultra modern structures and the vast majority of a growing, developing, bulging middle class in a city.
Our intention was to see what we could by foot. Starting off from our hotel we crossed the Taksim square by the side and headed
down the Istkal street towards the Gallata tower. Our first stop was the old Waterhouse pumping station which is now the tourist office. A octagonal marble structure jutting out in the street and square, giving the yellow light against the blue dusk was a welcoming start. The square has stores with baklavas lined up in all colours and shapes, seeming like a puzzle of of sweet that has been assembled. We stepped in one such shop, asked for two baklavas and a Turkish coffee to set the tenor of next few days. All was okay except that Monaal had more sugar from the sachets than the baklavas we had. Stepping out in the main street which was lined by big stores, predominantly pedestrian and the upcoming holiday season had ensured an abundance of glitter all around. We came across the Turkish ice cream shop and it was a riot of laughter in bursts. He just does not seem to ever let you eat it, as fast as you may try, the scoop is peeled away just when your tongue is out. And finally I thought it was enough and he would just let it be now, before it became annoying, he too cooled off but just with the tissue on the cone was put and finally in the hand with the mouth open, again it was snatched away for the final squeal from the onlookers. Intermittently were boys sitting and playing instruments and singing, in a language alien to us, the sound was melodic, rough and attractive. Carrying on the street became narrow and pavement shops started to appear. We stopped over considering to but some painting, but at the end as usual - nothing was purchased. Suddenly the Gallata tower came peeping through. Built in medieval times and nearly intact as it stands today. We could visualise the medieval purposes it served. A tower that stood the test of time for thousand years is now to be guarded on all sides with plenty of police and armoured cars. Seems paradoxical but now we have to guard what has stood the changes of time and centuries of the weather. By this time, the travel and the walk made us tired and a taxi ride later we were putting MV to sleep. Soon after we headed down to the river side restaurant in our hotel (Hilton by the Bosphorous). The meal, sitting by the river and the ambience took us away from the daily rig-ma-role we face in Delhi, bringing back our days in Brussels.
Next day by noon I finished off the round table meeting and we left by foot to the closest tram station that was near the football stadium and the new palace. There was police all around and may routes sealed for the forthcoming game. None of the police guys had a local knowledge as to where was the tram stop and if it was open. DV directed us a usual and we got on.
Off we were at the historical centre and our first stop was the Topakapi, which was closing by the time we reached and same for Hagia Sophia. We thought we would have to miss these and carried on to the underground cistern. This was an amazing sight if you understand the magnitude and reason. The turks needed water to be stored and processed for use to be supplied in the palace. For this they built a underground hall supported by columns which was filled with water, this was called the cistern. As we walked through the path built amongst the pillars we could see two pillars that showed hydra upside down on the base of the pillar.
We exited to broad sunlight and carried on down the street planning to visit the grand bazaar, spice market next. Enroute there was a small door in front of which scores stood in lines waiting to get in. It was a restaurant “Sultanahmet Koftecisi” and we too stood a while to be seated in. Inside was like a variation of the Karims at Jamma Masjid. We ordered bread, kebab, chilli, white beans salad and buttermilk. It was a simple affair but the combination had a subtle and delicate taste of simplicity. One plate was enough for the two of us. We carried on to the grand bazaar and just before we entered we sat out in the small square. There was a black column which predated the city as it was in its era of magnificence and was held together by some wires as a lightening nearly shot it down. Sitting there, MV played in the courtyard and we saw people go by as the sunlight disappeared and the darkness crept on, the lights in the stall of the chestnut vendor gave a glowing yellow hue. Some time later we walked into the Grand Bazaar - it was closed and closing. We stopped at a ceramic shop and purchased two pasta bowls, souvenirs doubled up as functionality.
Crossing the emptying corridors we walked further to the Spice market. Through closing streets to cross the bridge back towards Galata. The bridge had lines of shops in the lower tier and from the pavement on top people hung over their angling rods. Crossing the river on the lower level of the bridge we frequently saw fished being pulled up by the anglers on top. At the square after the bridge we waited for the elusive tram. Google showed it should come, but it did not. The people around kept sending us on different stops to wait. Eventually Monaal slept, the wind became cold from cool and we bundled back in a taxi. 
Morning saw us walking back on our frequented path back across the football stadium, Dolmabache (the new palace built in Western nuances after the Topakapi became to rural for the fleeing Ottomans - as history stands repeated, people digressing from their strength is the start of their downfall and so was the Dolmabache for the Ottomans) but now in another direction. We intended to walk along the Bosphorous to the intercontinental bridge and the beautiful mosque at Ortakoi. Walking along the leafy avenue, cyclists whizzed past and the runners huffed on, MV also kept us going and intermittently was sitting on her favourite spot on me. As we entered the Otakoi the Sun gave its golden rays across the water on the mosque. Its always magical, intact most magical a site to me in the constraints of a urban sprawl. Clear waters, some jellyfish, a few boats, anglers, the innocence of the dawn spreading over two continents in the same breath, arching over civilisation of thousands of years, its mesmerising and has been so to the innumerable generations that would have stood at these banks before
Back at the hotel - we got a pleasant surprise - a full day of city centre visits were arranged for us, with an English speaking guide who already had tickets for us. What else could we ask for on our last day. We had presumed that we would come back for the Haga Sophia and Topakapi, but we could be there today!. We arranged with the hotel for a late check out and set off. Topakapi palace, we could now understand, the location, evolution and the layout as it progressed over the years. Next to the water, on an elevation strategically located on a trade route, it grew with time. The rulers living in midst of the city, the connection with origin and people thrived as the mist grew. The palace chambers are themselves humble and functional as we discovered. The king and the queen have a single chamber as well, ornate and evolution seen on the walls. Clocks were added and so was crystal as time went on. Hamams, kitchens, harem chambers, and the gardens. No grandstanding, no sermons, but celebrations to victory in wall naming sections after each major victory.
