I remember the things my wife suffered when she left me sick and miserable in bed once......

Aw, y'all, I'm sorry. I write so slowly that I got too sleepy to finish my story last night--there's more that happens! Guess I shouldn't start a long-winded anecdote unless I'm prepared to finish it in one sitting...


yestravel, the lodge and grounds are lovely! I think there must be more services on certain Sundays, or they've expanded the schedule to accommodate more viewers. (The dervishes seems like clergy, maybe ascetics, but there is someone involved who has an eye to putting this before the public--not that that's a bad thing). Thanks for your good wishes, but I'm afraid I've been misleading!


Thanks, Goldens, but if you read on you'll see that it does work out differently!


otherchelebi, I think you're teasing, though if your wife left you on your sickbed, there may have been a good reason! (I remember once I left my husband sniveling and wheezing with a cold in a Positano hotel bed while I ran off for a day trip with others to Capri! I had an excellent reason--I didn't want to miss the day trip!)


Anyway, after the guard told us, "No 7:15 service," I had the horrible feeling that I'd been taken for 40 TL (about $24). Nearby a guy--tall, beefy--was leaning against the fence. He caught my eye and with a knowing look said, "I think the guard didn't understand your question. Maybe not fluent in English." he told me that he, too, had bought a blank-slip ticket for the 7:15 service.

I said, "Then I think we both got ripped off." The French couple had disappeared. The guy and I started to talk and in a few minutes a lady came and joined us. She looked about my age, with short hair, and her voice sounded Irish to me. She was waiting for the 6:15 service, and had a real, printed ticket, which told me even more that I was a sucker.

When the guy asked, she said she was from Dublin, and that surprised him--maybe not so good at recognizing accents. Turns out he was from Johannesburg himself.

I voiced my fears again and the talk turned to ripoffs, and pickpocketing and worse. The lady told us how she once was walking down a Dublin street, and in front of her was a pinstripe-suited businessman. That man was walking so fast, in such a determined way, that she said she tried to match his pace, to get on his wavelength.

"I just felt in sync with him," she said, "like he was gliding along and I could get up to cruise speed to match him. I felt a connection and was so focused on it that I didn't notice the thief who came up next to me, not till he grabbed my bag and started to pull it away.

Everyone always says to just let your bag go--it's not worth fighting and getting pulled and maybe hurt. But all I could think was--my keys! My ID! My wallet! So I held on and screamed for help!

And it was such a surprise when the businessman turned around and ran back to me! He ran back and pushed the other guy down, and I held onto my bag! So we really did have a connection!"

No, they didn't date after that, or even kiss. But she said she didn't feel traumatized by the incident, she felt like she'd gotten free therapy!

She had other stories, too--an interesting hour of conversation passed. The guy talked about his travels, and his artwork. He said if we'd been ripped off, we'd have to go to the musical-instrument store across the street and get them to play a sad violin song for us.

He was not bad-looking, about late thirties. We women were both over fifty, yet I got the strong impression he was flirting with both of us.

Admission time came for the 6:15 show, and the Irishwoman headed into the crowd going into the gate. I couldn't take the anxiety anymore! I needed to go ahead and find out if I'd been suckered, so I went in too, for the 6:15. "Wish me luck!" I called to the guy.

Inside the gate, a guard stood in near-darkness. I had my piece of paper in my hand, and he told everyone, "Have your ticket!" in that light he couldn't have seen what I held. But the crowd all waited at the lodge door, while other guards took every ticket going in.

I felt really nervous! Though I guess the worst case would just be getting laughed at and thrown out, I still felt anxious. I worked my way slowly to the door. The door guard took my little slip of paper, saw in the bright light exactly what it was, and motioned me inside! That made me happy ALL out of proportion to what was going on!

Once in, I stood behind a rail where I could brace my camera for steady shots (though no one said it, I figured flash was forbidden). I took photos all through the service, and was by no means the only one doing so. No one used flash.

The service was solemn, but otherwise exactly what one would expect. The dervishes when they moved had a look, not of ecstasy, but of being somewhere else, almost--even if that sounds hokey. They spun and spun on a single point, and their skirts went straight out. The group rotated in a circle as each dervish whirled around--it is a discipline that I expect takes much time to learn. Eleven men were on the oval wooden floor--two of them seemed authoritative, while nine of them (mostly young) whirled.

I could not understand what was chanted beforehand, nor what was sung, and the whole service had ritual whose meaning I don't know. It did feel intrusive to me, my being there--the men were not performers, but probably ascetic clergy.

Still, the services are offered for the public to see, so if it feels intrusive to them, at least they expect it beforehand. It was powerful to see, and impressive, and I'm glad I saw it.

When I walked outside afterward, I saw a crowd waiting for a 7:15 service, and the South African guy was there with them.


Anyway, I'm going to have to switch to telling just highlights of this trip, or it'll take WAY too long!

smalti, it is the little anecdotes and what you call highlights that make trip reports written at frequently traveled locations more than readable.

Setting the background, the characters, the events and the expectant silences that you use so well.......

I wish I had heard of the advantages of walking fast while wearing a pin stripe business suit when I was younger. Sigh!

So glad you weren't ripped off. Yes, the times were confusing for the "show" or service at the lodge. Our hotel gave us one time, tour books, had other times. As I said when we arrived (Sept 29) it appeared there was only 1 show which was sold out. But perhaps there were others and we had no way of knowing.
I agree with you on the description of the service -- I thought it ethereal. In our TR we said "It was visually spectacular, but on some level one recognized that this was devotion, not a tango show, spectacle or entertainment." We went to the Hopjapasha Cultural Center and no cameras were allowed with or without flashes. The woman at the door had a laser type light and if she saw anyone with a camera she flashed it in their direction.

WOW, what a fireworks extravaganza that was tonight! It might be the biggest and most impressive one I've ever seen! My husband was meeting with G and A (mentioned upthread)) on the 2nd floor terrace here, and I joined them not long before the show.

G wasn't enjoying it (as explained), but she was a good sport about it. A watched it, fascinated, and then said, "Well, there's half a million pounds spent!"


Oh, otherchelebi, thank you for the compliment!--I appreciate that! Meeting people with such totally diverse life experiences (and finding what we have in common)is a BIG part of the pleasure of travel!

And pin stripes


Thanks, yestravel, and I'm glad you got to see the dervishes whirl! Your description of the service is great--and exactly right!

Yesterday I was walking by the tram lines in an old part of the city, and ahead of me was a group of young American guys--they looked about 19 yrs old. Going past a sweets shop, one of them started to sing the old song "Afternoon Delight," switching the word "afternoon" to "Turkish."

Another couple of guys joined him, and soon the whole group was walking along singing "Afternoon Delight" (or "Turkish Delight") at the top of their lungs. They were giddy in the way only young people on their first trip abroad can be. And what an exotic first trip for them to have!

They were good singers, too.


Tuesday was Republic Day in Turkey, pretty much the equal number to Independence Day in the US. In the late afternoon I saw people streaming from the direction of Taxim Square--they all had small flags draped over one shoulder. Or balloons, or banners with a photo of Ataturk (can't type the umlaut on my iPad), who is evidently to Turks as George Washington is to Americans. And this is the 90-year anniversary of the republic's formation.

My husband was meeting with A, a Syrian who lives near London now, and G, another British physician who came from elsewhere (in her case, Bosnia). They were meeting on the 2nd floor balcony of the Hilton where we're staying, and the sun had gone down (the balcony has a great view of a stretch of the Bosphorus). All across the skyline were clusters of searchlights (laser, probably), making circular traces in the sky, and we heard music at intervals. One bridge across the Bosphorus was covered with lights.

Then, abruptly, a display of fireworks started--wonderful fireworks! The display stretched from one end of our skyline view to the other--I remembered otherchelebi's kind suggestion to watch from the Hilton roof. But we had a fine view from where we were already sitting, and I knew G would probably rather not be there at all. (She had experience with genuine shelling, in Bosnia, and says that fireworks sound exactly the same!) But she was a good sport about sitting there.

For about half an hour, there were huge displays--big red or white blooms that opened up high in the air and faded slowly. The show seemed to stretch across the Bosphorus, or maybe alongside it. At one point, displays popped out in the shape of the crescent moon and star of the Turkish flag!

It was a GORGEOUS display, and no doubt very costly! A was fascinated by it--he went to the railing to get the best view. When he came back afterward he said, "Well, there's half a million pounds spent!"

I thought getting out to a cafe might be fun, but the others were tired after a long day and meeting and so we went to a restaurant in the hotel. We had to talk G into going with us--she wanted to return to her hotel for an early bed and a morning flight. So we got an easy meal at the buffet, and while we ate A talked about his youth in Syria.

Occasionally his family would travel to Istanbul, he said, and stay in a nice hotel. And during the visit his mother and sister would buy yards of silk to have dresses made back home. While leaving the restaurant he told me, "And Turkish delight! You always have to be careful about which Turkish delight you are buying!"

I made a mental note to be careful about Turkish delight.

smalti, I am enjoying your reports very much. Keep them coming.

As for Turkish delight, I don't think you can go wrong with Haci Bekir which has been making it since 1777, but there are also some good shops in the Spice Market for it. I recently bought some at Gözde which I liked. I'm sure that OC will have some good recommendations.

BTW you can type ü with your iPad--just hold down the u and you will see a selection of diacritical marks--same goes for other letters (although it won't do an s with cedilla--you'd have to use a Turkish keyboard for that).

This is so interesting! Thank you.

laverndye,

re Turkish Delight :

Basically there are two kinds : The softer larger size ones and the smaller size harder ones. Try both kinds before buying because they differ in texture and chewiness, as well as sweetness.

I agree that you cannot go wrong with the traditional Haci Bekir. Tasty and hygienic as well as having the largest variety of flavors.

Other major brands easily available and also tasty and hygienic are Koska and Divan, Divan being the upscale patisserie/restaurant/brasserie/hotel brand of the largest Turkisg conglomerate, Koc (partner of Ford and Fiat in Turkey among other int'l names)

I usually find Haci Bekir Turkish Delight somewhat sweeter than Divan's.

Recently, my BIL brought me a small box from Safranbolu, a small town famous for its restored wooden Ottoman homes, with a brand name of Imren. This was the smaller harder kind with ample pistachios and I loved it. Possibly because I needed a sweet fix, -

I would not buy Turkish delight or anything else from the open piles at the spice market or from any such stall which may not be fully protected against vermin or other contaminants. When I buy spices from the Spice Market I do so from the drawers in the shops, even when there are sacks of the stuff like red pepper flakes out on the arcade.

Wonderful report, smalti, and interesting comments from you too, otherchelebi!

It is indeed the little unexpected experiences that make travel - and trip reports - so interesting.

Thanks, laverendrye! And thanks for the ü advice--this will prove very helpful!


Thanks, Cathinjoetown! I hope to share useful info!


Good Turkish delight info, otherchelebi! I did sample some at the Spice Bazaar, though. It was good, but it had been sitting in the open--not the best thing!


Thanks, panecott! Travel is definitely about both the places AND the people!


Sorry that I cut my report abruptly--we came back home, and then I needed a couple of days to catch up on email. Now I'd better get the rest of this report done, before my memories dim too much!

While my husband was in meetings, I took some time to go back to the Ayasofya alone. Took a taxi, and right away there was a bad omen: On the Cumhurìyet Caddesì (the highway from our hotel), we stopped at a light, and the taxi driver made a gesture of disgust.

I looked out and saw a very tall, very thin young man dart past the front of the car--his eyes looked utterly wild. The plastic bag he held looked half full of (sorry for the grossness) bile or vomit, and just as I wondered why he was carrying around a bag he'd been sick into, he put the bag to his mouth and huffed!

The bag held some kind of drug, or more likely some industrial solvent he was using to get high. It looked like a quick way to get serious brain damage. We saw another couple of these young addicts before we left (at least they looked like addicts to me).

But the taxi took me to the Sultanahmet are without further incident, and dropped me not far from the Ayasofya. Instantly one of the carpet touts who abound in that area affixed to me, and just would not let me alone--he insisted that I had to come to his shop at once. No thanks, I said, I didn't want or need a rug, I said, and he still insisted, walking with me and keeping up a steady spiel.

Finally I walked into the entrance gate to Ayasofya, and lost the tout that way. I don't like to be rude to people, but this was the only solution I saw! To get through the turnstile and actually into the building, I had bought a three-day museum pass from the hotel concierge for 85TL--it allowed one admission into six or seven different museums, and they were all museums I wanted to see.

The advantage of a pass was that I could skip ticket lines, and even though it was early, I saved probably a half-hour or more by skipping the line at the Ayasofya.

Once inside the building, I could take the time really to look around and see. From the earlier short visit (described upthread) I already knew to expect extensive scaffolding--there's no question that interfered with the vast openness that for so many years I had imagined standing in the middle of! But it was also less insanely crowded than on the earlier visit, and that helped a lot in seeing the space.

The tremendous dome of the Ayasofya gets light from the circle of small windows in its base--these windows, and large ones in the arches beneath the dome and in the area beyond, admit a warm light that makes the space fairly glow. It is the huge dome, and the way it could be built above a rectangular, basilica-type building (rather than a round building) was the world-class innovation in designing and erecting the Ayasofya.

All of the above is what I learned years ago in an art history class, when I first formed the idea of wanting to see this great building for myself. Now I can say, firsthand, that all the promotion is accurate--the Ayasofya is astonishing!

And some very fine Byzantine mosaics can be found on the upper level, such as one showing a doleful Mary and John the Baptist interceding with Christ. A glorious, gold-backed Madonna and Child is on the lower level, but it is placed too high for close inspection--it is above the Splendid Gate (I think that's what it's called--already my memories begin to fade!).

The Ayasofya is certainly worth half a day to inspect, if you can afford it, or even more.

Very interesting. Thanks, smalti.

I am thoroughly enjoying your report, smalti, and am looking forward to reading more. I visited Istanbul for the first time two years ago and found it so interesting and very exciting. I couldn't believe I was actually seeing the Hagia Sofia and Blue Mosque when I was there.

Hey now, we got home a week ago and I still haven't wrapped this thing up! I'll detail a few more highlights, then give some miscellaneous notes that might help someone, and then call this report done!


Thanks, Celiaanne2!


Thanks, KTravel! Yes, it was so exciting that it was hard to believe it was actually happening when we were there!

I did get to go to the Chora Church (or Kariye Müzesi, or Museum) one day by myself. This building is just chockablock with extraordinary Byzantine mosaics and frescoes--the artwork is absolutely dazzling!

The first time I ever saw Byzantine mosaics in situ was at the Greek monastery of Hosios Loukas--when I saw light hitting the gold-colored tesserae of the mosaics set high on the walls of the katholikon there, my knees actually buckled a little! The images in Byzantine mosaics tend to be simple but very strong, whether in that monastery, or in the narthex of San Marco in Venice, or here in the extraordinary 11th-century Church of St. Saviour in Chora!

The stunning mosaics lay out scenes illustrating the lives of Christ and of the Virgin--it was hard to follow exactly, since the church was quite crowded, and seeing the images in sequence wasn't possible. Much more feasible was to dart from spot to spot and stake out an uncrowded corner till forced to move on. Or to study the series of images on a ceiling from a bench, until rousted by a tour group. The frescoes are extraordinary as well, particularly the Anastasis (Resurrection) fresco in the apse.

The church's architecture is striking--altogether the sight of the church and its artwork is unforgettable! It deserves two hours at least.


When I stepped out of the church and into the residential neighborhood surrounding it, the call to prayer was underway. The call, I think, must come separately from every mosque, and it goes out on loudspeakers set on telephone poles. I walked into a spot where the call was coming from two different loudspeakers that overlapped their areas, and the calls volleyed and bounced off each other, and that had an effect on me.

I had one of those spacey, surreal moments, one of those, "Is this real, or am I dreaming?" feelings, and I looked at the paving stones in the road laid in their fan-shaped patterns. It was a moment that comes sometimes in travel, the realization that I am in a place where what people recognize as very familiar, what they recognize and welcome and understand, is utterly unfamiliar to me.

But that's why travel is an adventure!

One morning I walked through the Spice Bazaar. I was with some people who were in Istanbul for the same meeting as my husband, and was glad to have companions as we made our way through the market, because of the crowding.

There were spices for sale, as well as nuts and seeds and teas. Lots of dried fruits and candies, Turkish delight in particular, all in open bins (as pointed out above, this might not be all that sanitary). There were signs for caviar, and lots and lots of souvenirs, like enameled tea sets, plus lots of trinkets.

Everything was interesting to see, but I wasn't there to buy. The family got some food and went to a small courtyard to eat, and I made my way back throught the bazaar by myself. The crowding was quite bad in spots--at one point there is a sort of crossroads in the market, and two streams of people just sort of fight their way through and past each other.

This was fairly nightmarish for me--there was no way to get around the huge clot of people. I had to get through it, and that meant pushing through and past and against people, so closely that we were practically wearing each other's clothes! I can't stand crowding that close, but here I had to stand it, for several minutes, till I could work through and get to a less crowded spot.

After this, there was no question of my going to the Grand Bazaar.

I did get to the Archaeological Museum complex, and found some fine antiquities there. Unfortunately, the main 4-story building was closed for renovation (and likely will be for some time), but there were still worthwhile things to see in the other buildings, such as grand sarcophagi and interesting, classical mosaics, as well as bas-relief animal tiles (lions, bulls) from the Ishtar Gate of Babylon.

A highlight of the Archaeological Museum is a building called the Çinili Pavillion, which is filled with displays of blue Iznik tiles and other Turkish tiles and ceramics--impressive and beautiful!