Day 80 - Kitty City to Dogtown

The Aussies had errands to run in the morning, so Cz and I decided to visit the Blue Mosque on our own. From the outside it is a smooth confection of white stone, each segment swelling smoothly into the next. Inside the arches are all covered in tile, mosaic, and paint depicting swirling floral and graphic patterns. It sits across the courtyard from Haggia Sophia. Yesterday Cz got a great photo of The Blue Mosque from the window of Haggia Sophia. Today it was a view of the Haggia Sophia framed by the arch to the courtyard of the Blue Mosque.

Inside the mosque is considered a holy place. Female visitors are requested to wear a headscarf and long skirt; male visitors to wear long pants. Everyone must remove their shoes before entering the space. I borrowed a scarf from Aussie Girl, and we tried to respect the rules to the best of our ability. We were shocked though at the behaviour of other Americans. They traipsed around as if they owned the place, scarfs tossed over their shoulders, men in shorts, almost all talking loudly as their cameras flashed away. I am not Muslim, but a place of worship is a place of worship whether it is your particular brand or not.

We were in the mosque between calls to prayer. Two workers were calmly vacuuming the carpet. A few worshipers were still praying, kneeling towards Mecca. The workers just pushed the vacuum around them. Haggia Sophia felt almost like a museum. The combination of maintenance men and worshipers gave the Blue Mosque - an architectural marvel to be sure - the feeling of being a real, functioning place.

At noon, we (the Aussies, Cz and I) met at the hostel to head down to the docks to have another go at taking a ferry ride. We arrived at the waterfront around 12:30, with an hour to kill before the next seabus would be heading out. As always, thinking with our stomachs, we stopped for another mackerel sandwich, and then strolled across the bridge the fishstalls, where a man was frying sardines fresh from the water. A group of rickety tables, even more rickety umbrellas, and the requisite cats clustered above the stall. We settled in for our second lunch of sardines with rocket salad and fresh apple tea.

After thoroughly stuffing ourselves, we hopped on the ship. The seabus is like a commuter ferry. We had heard that rather than taking one of the expensive tours, we could take the ferry out to a particular suburb (I have forgotten the name) and cover the same route for a fraction of the cost. The water of the Bosporus is somewhere between cerulean and windsor blue. It is surprisingly clean and clear, and loaded with fish visible just below the surface. On our boat ride we even saw some porpoises leaping near the shore.

On land, the shapes and skylines of Istanbul unfolded behind us. The silhouette is so different from US cities. Coastal cities int he US tend to be vertical geometric affairs - rectangles and cubes cutting up into the sky, with very little reference to shape of the land beneath. In Istanbul the buildings are generally more low-slung, punctuated by the domes and minarets of the mosques, and the occasional palace or tomb, but even these grander structures seem somehow frothy compared to the solid shapes of the west.

The town itself (we thought it was a suburb, but really it´s more like a bedroom community) was on the Asian side of the Bosporus. Even though it was only and hour and a half by water from central Istanbul, it had entirely different feel. For one thing, where Istanbul is ruled by packs of stray cats, this town is marshaled by stray dogs. Most are quite large, but seem to be predominantly shy and friendly - we were never growled at or otherwise threatened by them. The town itself was a riot of colour, sound and smell. It´s a smaller town, but somehow it seemed more full of people all honking their horns, gossiping in doorways, and selling anything from fruit to fishing gear. We stopped in a bakery so Aussie Boy could pick up some sweet cakes. The light coming through the window and the smell of fresh bread combined to make a sense of timelessness, despite the steady stream of cars and buses just outside.

From our shop, we went on to find some apple tea. We drifted toward a cafe near an excited looking crowd, the women all holding silk roses. Turns out there was a wedding next door! The waiters in the cafe spoke no english. Luckily another patron heard us trying to order, and translated. We sipped our tea (best apple tea yet) and craned our necks to watch the crowd just over the tea-shop´s hedge. We never got more than a glimpse of the wedding couple, but thoroughly enjoyed the feeling of celebration.

Then back to the docks for the return ferry to Istanbul. At one point the view was of the landmasses of Asia and Europe practically touching noses across the channel. It´s an almost surreal feeling being at such a cultural crossroads, and one with such deep roots. In Istanbul, one is aware of the Ancient, rather than the merely old. At first, I felt that in Istanbul, the now rubbed shoulders with the then. That may be so, but more accurately, I feel that the then permeates the city. Even the modern shops and ferryboats seem to remember their roots as ancient trading sites and shipping routes. And we, as modern tourists are only mimicking the path of other Europeans, other Asians, other people seeking out adventure, riches, exoticism, etc had trod for centuries.