Mash-Up of the Past Several Days

We noticed tiles seem to be a mish mash of colors and patterns. Haron the tour guide explains God is perfect; therefore, mosques are not symmetrical and tiles (like in in Topkapi Palace) are not consistent in patterns or colors. When tiles became more popular and accessible for the masses the quality did not improve.  However, we found the tılework to be quıte beautıful.

There are 7 hills in Istanbul; each has a a mosque on the top. Mosques typically have one or two minarets. The major mosques of couse have more. When Sultanamet Mosque was constructed there was a disagreement between Mecca and the Sultan Amet over whether Mecca or Istanbul was the center of Muslim culture. In the end, the Blue Mosque has 6 minarets and Mecca has 7. All visitors to the Blue Mosque are to cover shoulders and legs. Even men were given wraps to be appropriately covered. Surprisingly, women were not asked to cover our heads. I had assumed we needed to do so; only those who wear the hijab or otherwise cover their hair when outside the home had head coverings.

Sulemanamet Camii (Blue Mosque) durıng morning and at night with full moon:

Clay letters and envelopes excavated in modern day Syria and Turkey. Archeologists found clay letters and envelopes from Hittites accounting debts, legal rulings and complaints, sales and loans, training horses, multiplication tables, and murder charges.  The more things change, the more they stay the same.  Guess if you had something to say "back in the day" you had plenty of time to choose the right words.

 The Archeological Museum is amazıng.  Tombs and mummies and sargophogies and all sorts of antıquıtıes!

We have arrived as world travelers! We had a light and very late supper at a communal table last night Regina wore a scarf she purchased during our trip to Nepal 3 years ago. As we were chatting with a couple from South Africa, the woman said "your scarf is from Nepal,". They trekked in Annapurna last year and she recalled seeing the Buddist print. A Saudi couple sat at the table and we had a nice chat with them; not as extensive as the South Africans but certainly more than we expected. Our American stereotyping says covered women aren't permitted to speak to strangers. But how else can you experience the world in which we travel? What works for "us" works for "them" too.

We were admiring rugs in shop windows and were invited in for tea and "learn about my rugs. You don't have to buy." We sat with one vendor engaged in general conversation before he had his helpers ("my friends") unroll rug upon rug. He explained how to examine for quality, explained styles and patterns. After 30 minutes, he started the soft sell. "best price is $6,000." When we declined (and he was surprised why?) he started the hard sell. We escaped with credit card intact. Last night, the owner of the restaurant also deals in rugs and antiquities. Ibrahim lives in D.C. 7 months of the year so he can travel around the US to peddle his wares. His family has a warehouse of rugs. He says the story the other guy told us was not completely accurate -- but he doesn't want to say anything negative about rug dude #1 -- and, by the way, "why dont you come to my rug shop tomorrow for some tea and I will teach you what I know. If you see something you like, we can talk about best price."

Saturday evening we walked across the Bosphorus via the Galata bridge and to Galata Tower. The hotel guys steered us there for the many rooftop restaurants with views of the west side of Istanbul. We wandered around for a bit until we found an open table. Gorgeous view of the city. Table next to us strikes up a conversation after overhearing us debating which mosque is where. The woman gives us the scoop. We continue chatting about Istanbul, her vacation home on the sea, etc. She tells us that she doesn't much like "that area. It's a bit like, forgive me, India. Where is your hotel?". We point to the area that is India. Laughter all around. She must mean that it's too crowded for her taste.  View of our "ghetto" from Galata:

Whirling dervishes...the space was hot and the music mellow. I nodded off several times and Reg was bored. Paid a lot of money for 45 mins of twirling men. No wonder there were no locals in the crowd. Lesson reinforced: when in Istanbul, do as an Istanbuli not the tourists.