SECOND DAY IN ISTANBUL

 AYA SOFYA AND THE GRAND BAZAAR

Cutest moment of the day: being interviewed by tourist school students Elif and Zerrin as part of a school assignment and making up creative new questions and answers for them

Thursday, May 22, 2008

In spite of having arrived at 1.30m from Arizona via London the Lehrers appear rested and energetic for breakfast, where Oswaldo and I have been watching a recently arrived couple from New Zealand prepare their itinerary for the day as one would prepare a battle: fully concentrated, consulting notebooks, maps and guides. We head out for the Blue Mosque after a brief and eventually frustrating interlude with Turkcell, local SIM card provider. While the Lehrers brave the huge throng milling in and out of the mosque, which we saw yesterday, we sit outside in the sun and have fun with being interviewed by two sweet and giggly girls. One key question put by English-speaking Turks are: “What is your name?”  Everybody asks us this, especially the school children, herded by strained teachers through the attractions we too pass through. Problem is, they rarely understand our answer and nudge each other with great glee, then pose the second key question: “Where are you from?”

We ask the questions back and also have a hard time understanding THEIR names, but the nice thing is their direct and open look and innocence. This is generally true of the Turks we have met so far: they are friendly and open and very quick at establishing some common interest, (which may lead us to a longer conversation - and - in many cases - a sale).

The Aya Sofya is astonishing in sheer size, It is amazing to stand in a structure more than 1400 years old. Where the Blue Mosque was suffused by bluish tones from the famous tiles, here the hues are primarily yellow, although supported by greens, blue and black.

After many hours exploring each detail we head over to the Grand Bazaar for a bite to eat. The Sultan Café, in the middle of a warren of stalls selling very similar stuff, offers a nice toasted sandwich and salad with a cold beer, or, in my case, a refreshing carrot and orange juice prettily served in a tall narrow glass. The Lehrer's head back to the hotel, while Oswaldo and I walk through the bazaar without really getting excited about anything. Even the book bazaar is not tempting. We end up in an area outside where older men show articles furtively spread out on cloths, and where we get an uncomfortable feeling of something illicit. Speeding on, we find the University of Istanbul - closed (isn’t that weird?), and then back to the hotel to rest before dinner.

Dinner is soulful in the rooftop Rami restaurant overlooking the Blue Mosque and the Dervish dancer in his self-absorbed trance. We sample Turkish wines with our meal and later walk back through an open space near our hotel, where groups of noisy, festive adolescents are gathered, dressed (as in our part of the world) in jeans, t-shirts and tops. One girl stands out in a bright purple Muslim kaftan and head scarf and seems as part of the group as the other girls. When they spot us leaning against the railing of an ancient obelisk, they chant “What is your name, where are you from?” and run giggling away as we shout our names like the good sports we are.