Trekking In Old Town

We had a free day and I went into the old town tourist sector with one of my roommates. We started out in the Hagia Sofia where there are a couple really big mosques, the Sultan's hamam (bath) and a million tourists for the local hawkers to prey on ...and do they ever! We took one up on it for the experience of being led to his leather coat business, served delicious apple tea and given the old sales pitch. I really enjoyed the tea and air conditioning but didn't buy any of his beautiful coats. 

Our next stop was the grand bazaar, the largest of its kind in the whole wide world or so they say. It is huge full of everything imaginable, very crowded. Oh, is it ever colorful! Too bad I am not a shopper. After a turn or two, we exited the bazaar and had no earthly idea where we were. Outside the streets were old, funky, once again filled with shops but this time not a tourist area. We pointed ourselves downhill and rambled through the most fascinating section of all, even though the shops were leaning toward household good rather than the usual carpets and ceramic slipware. The streets were cobblestone and followed an old wall that I thought might be part of the castle, but could be almost anything. After all, this is a very, very, very old city.

We came out with the Bosporus in sight and the Galata Bridge right across the street. Through the arch was the courtyard of a huge mosque that people keep telling me is the New Mosque, or something like that. I hate knowing for sure because I have so much fun not knowing. Anyway, we went inside and were wowed by the intricate designs that covered everything, domes, walls, just everything. These are repetition designs rather than the icons of the Orthodox churches of Romania. I understand that the repeating of these designs has to do with infinity and that the calligraphy is not simply writing but began as a form of worship oh so long ago. It was well worth taking my shoes off and putting on a head scarf for. Women are not allowed in the cordoned area to worship with the men.

After elbowing our way across the Galata Bridge, huffing and panting our way up the hill to the tower, we pointed ourselves downhill again and accidentally found the local fish market where the tourists don't go. The usual: covered stalls with lots of fish on display, maybe freshly caught since fishing boats moor very close by. Some people had little booths set up and were cooking fish to sell. I didn't dare try them but did find a stand with some cherries. There was much discussion in our group about how scary it would be to eat the fish from that nasty looking water. I would if I was particularly fond of fish. 

Scene from the old sector.

Inside the mosque.

View from below the tower.