New York to Istanbul - Chapter 6

Chapter 6: Elle and the Byzantines

There are Rorschach blotches throughout the marble of Hagia Sophia. I had never seen them before, but Elle's book explained how, during the quarrying process, slabs of marble were folded like a book, creating symmetrical patterns in the natural veins of the stone. Or, at least I think. The guide book she read as we sat against a massive pillar was written like a dictionary.

“What is a concave triangular pendentive?” My new friend and fellow traveler blamed her imperfect English. I blamed the author.

“&%#@ if I know,” I generally have rules against cursing on hallowed ground, but there were enough tourists around to make this a special case. Besides, it's a museum now. Which is not to say that it is not still impressive.

Hagia Sofia (or Ayasofya in Turkish) is one of the few places in the world that truly lives up to the hype. Everything is built on a super-human scale: doors for giants, massive candle holders and (above all) the largest dome of the ancient world. It's enough to make you feel very small, like Jesus really was twelve foot tall and played center for the Chicago Bulls.

Stuffing the book into Elle's backpack, we explored the building that had served as both the principal cathedral of the Byzantines and the principal mosque of the Ottoman Empire.  I had met Elle on my second day in the city.  A former tour guide, she suggested we visit a lesser known spot as we walked into the Istanbul heat again.



Now, I don't want to get in the habit of ruining secret places, but given the AdSense revenue this page has been pulling in, I think this secret is still safe from the prying eyes of the public. Across the street from arguably two of Istanbul's most famous sites, Hagia Sophia and the Blue Mosque, is an entryway into the forgotten underworld of the city. The Basilica Cistern is, for my money, the most overlooked attraction in Istanbul crowded tourist center.

We walked down the stairs into a world blessedly cool and dark compared to the metropolitan summer above. The cistern is one small part of the extensive Byzantine sewer system. Here you can examine perfectly preserved Roman statues, if only because they were used as building material. Sure the piped-in music is a little too new-agey for my tastes and the cafe is ridiculously over priced. But, after a day of walking around the city, the Basilica Cistern is an uncrowded, cool and soothing oasis.

Now, I'm afraid I have to back up a little bit. You see, buildings and architecture are wonderful, but not why I fell in love with Turkey. For that I'll have to tell you about what happened to Elle and I on the tramway:

While discussing our plans for the day, an old lady tapped me on the shoulder and asked if we spoke English. Elle caught on quicker than I and told her we did. The old woman then pointed to the front of the car, where two French tourists stared, befuddled, at a tourism map and practically pushed us up to them.

Never before have I seen such hospitality as routinely happens in this region, where the proper treatment of a guest is nearly a sacred duty. Unbidden, people will go out of there way to help you and (even if they can't) they will find someone who can.