Anthea’s special birthday present

Today it was Anthea’s birthday so, we went aboard a small, luxury boat and spent two glorious hours on the Golden Horn and the Bosph⁷orus. The weather was kind and the water not too choppy. As the sun set, the scattered clouds were tinged in gold. It was all wonderful. Though it was almost spoiled by the water police.

It marked the end of a day of some mighty long bouts of torturous walking. Well, for me, anyway. And I don’t think Lindy’s feet were overjoyed either. However, the result of all of this uphill walking was the most amazing mosaics I think I’ve ever seen.

Mind you, Anthea said there was a man in the toilets there who was doing something unspeakable. Sarah claimed it may have been his special birthday present for her. I reckon it’s a good thing it was unspeakable because I don’t have to describe it.

Anyway, the mosque police here insist on men covering their knees and, given I refuse to wear those stupid almost shorts that stop mid-calf and make men look ridiculous, I had to buy a paper frock in order not to offend some human.

Of course, it caused a lot of delicious hilarity and the photo below was distributed among the Weasels at home in our WhatsApp group.

I think it gives me a rather noble look though Mirinda thought I was wearing a raincoat. Which could have been quite handy given we had another day of infrequent but annoying showers. Though, unlike yesterday, we managed to avoid getting wet by being inside whenever it fell.

The Chora Church or Kariye Mosque, was once a Christian church and contains a whole horde of ‘outstanding Late Byzantine mosaics and frescos‘, to quote from Wikipedia. And Wikipedia is 100% correct. They are truly outstanding.

The history of the building is long and varied (you can read the Wiki entry for that) but to summarise…it was started in the 4th century, changed a lot in the 11th, turned into a mosque in the 16th, a museum n in 1945 and, finally, back to a mosque in 2020.

A pity we weren’t visiting in 2019 because I could have avoided wearing the frock.

I have to say, it was rather odd seeing the Christian stories glued to the walls while, in the centre of the building, men bowed towards Mecca and women were only allowed into a little bit of the main room. There is a guard, especially employed to make sure that the latter happens.

Sarah declared that her life was now complete, having seen this great wonder. She could now just sit (sleep) in the accommodation till it was time to return home.

Earlier in the day, we’d visited another mosque. This one was also a remodelled Christian building..

Originally, the Church of the Holy Apostles, dedicated by Constantine in 330AD. He died seven years later. He was, in fact, buried there. The church was very important. So important that in 1204, the Fourth Crusaders looted it for gems and jewels, although they were Christians sworn to uphold the Christian belief, yadda, yadda, yadda.

After a few centuries, it became a bit dilapidated and so it was changed into a mosque. This was partly because the Ottomans were in charge and partly because a Muslim citizen was killed by a Christian citizen and that was what you did in those days.

A big old earthquake put paid to the first mosque so a second was built on the site. And that’s what we saw today, just managing to avoid the rain.

While both churches cum mosques were amazing, I have to admit that a big highlight for me was walking through the Women’s Bazaar (not the Women’s Bizarre as John referred to it). This street, dedicated to shopping for herbs, spices, meat, cheese and soap was fantastic.

Mind you, we all thought the indignity of being slaughtered and prepared for sale only to be hung in a display window with a rose stuck in one’s butt, was a bit much.

The long street led to a massive section of the original Roman aqueduct which still stands very impressively, dividing the (as usual) busy road.

We were led there by a local dog. Actually, John reckoned the dog was following behind me in order to pick off the slowest buffalo. My stride lengthened as a result. The dog left us shortly before we headed into a café for a light lunch, no doubt searching for another slow victim.

Strange Turkish food was devoured, preparing us for the onslaught of the Street of Brides.

Actually, it wasn’t so much a street of brides as a street of bridal dresses. Wedding dresses. There were a lot of them. How any make any money, I have no idea. In some cases, they are right next to each other.

There were a lot of sequins and weird spiky breast protectors leering out of display windows. I didn’t see any roses but then, the mannequins were all facing outwards. And they were wearing big meringue dresses. So there was that.

I thought this ad, painted on the shutter of a strangely closed wedding dress shop, looked a bit like characters out of Tim Burton’s Corpse Bride.

Having delighted ourselves with the sights of matrimonial ornamentation, we doubled down with the mosaic madness at the Chora Church.

The number of shops was not the only time we were faced with a numerical dilemma today. As our boat approached our dock, a police launch came alongside and an officer of the Water Police (there are a lot of different police forces in Istanbul) came aboard and counted us all.

According to Guide Ozzie, some boats have too many passengers and, I assume, can be chucked into a Turkish prison if found out. We were safe and he let us go. While not exactly drama on the high seas, it did make for a delightful exclamation mark to, all in all, an exhausting but amazing day in Istanbul. Or Constantinople. No, Istanbul.

I’ve wanted to write that for the last couple of days. I’ll try not to do it again.

To finish this terribly long post, I’ll end with this delightful photo of the five of us on the bow of our luxury boat. It was taken by one of our fellow passengers.

And don’t we all look happy? In mine and Lindy’s case, it may have been because we were spending two hours off our feet.