Istanbul on the Fly

It may have been a little risky, after all, to make a mad dash for the tourist area of Istanbul during my four hour layover between Istanbul and Erbil. My plane had flown over Turkey from the southwestern direction of Eastern Europe, and I had seen clearly the outline of the Black Sea and the Straight of Gallipoli. As we approached and the plane descended, my heart soared. We flew low over the city and I could see "Ataturk" barges in the bay and minarets dotting the skyline. When our plane pulled into the gate and I saw it was only 7:45PM, I decided to make a dash for the tourist area. 

Four hours sounder like sufficient time before I waited in the long, snaking passport cue, only to find out that I had to get in another line to get a visa, and then get back in the passport line. As the official held his stamp poised over my book, the fear nagged me that things could go wrong and I could miss my flight and upset my employer in Erbil. But as the stamp came down and the passport was shoved under the window, I snatched it and lumbered toward the exit with my overstuffed backpack and briefcase and purse. Scampering through the traffic, I hailed a taxi and negotiated terms. I had roughly an hour and half, maybe two hours, to get to the tourist area, sit in the Blue Mosque (I figured the Hagia Sophia would be closed, since it's a museum), snap some photos, and get back to the airport. I wanted the same driver to take me, wait for me, and then return me to the airport. 80 US dollars? No way. I didn't take the time to look up the exchange rate, but I had a recommendation to pay no more than 40 dollars. The guy wouldn't budge, so I  made to leave and he shouted, "Ok, ok, 40 US dollars, yallah, let's go!"

The taxi driver, as taxi drivers are apt to do, expertly weaved through the traffic that followed the shoreline, honking and snorting and saying things in Turkish under his breath, though I couldn't have understood him if he had shouted it to the darkening Istanbul sky.  It was a clear, chilly night. He made several sudden adjustments, redoubling and changing the route according to the flow of traffic. We zipped around corners and through dark alleyways on streets barely wide enough for a car, dodging stray cats, rubbish and the occasional car coming the other direction. Suddenly we burst out of a dark street and onto a street exploding with color and movement: neon signs advertising fish restaurants, jewelry stores, windows with appliances, cafes and people strolling about. The driver stopped abruptly, gesturing toward a cluster of trees with lights shining behind them saying, "There, the Blue Mosque." He turned to me to renegotiate the terms. I was afraid of this. We argued and I finally agreed to pay him half now and offered to pay him 25 dollars later if he would wait for me one hour. He nodded, taking the 20. I wondered if he would stay. I set off down the street and arrived at a gate. Because of the treeline I couldn't see much of what lay behind the open gate where an elderly woman with a scarf tied over her head and crutches at her side sat feebly begging. There it was:

 Sultan Ahmed Mosque, aka the Blue Mosque

When  I came around the corner and through the gate, I gazed up at this (above).

I don't know how long I spent standing in the courtyard, gazing up. At the entrance, a man instructed me to take off my shoes and put them in a plastic sack. I retrieved my scarf from my backpack and wrapped it around my hair and stepped inside. I wish I had taken a photograph of the plush red carpet which felt so nice to sink my tired feet into.  If I hadn't been so disgustingly sweaty and exhausted from traveling through four airports, I might have been repulsed to think how many dirty, sweaty feet had tread that carpet. But the carpet was soft and cool, and a man walked about indiscriminately spraying some kind of aerosol can, probably with cleaner. 

 Two men praying. This is an active mosque and is closed to visitors during prayer times.

These pictures don't capture the beautifully detailed tile and calligraphy. 

After sitting for what seemed like an hour, but was probably only twenty minutes, I left the Blue Mosque feeling very satisfied that I had taken the risk. I left by a side entrance and, lo and behold, there was the Hagia Sophia. 

Unfortunately the Hagia Sophia, as a museum, is closed at night. I hope to visit Turkey again and see the inside!

My pictures of it are not so clear. Perhaps it is not as brightly lit as the Blue Mosque?

It turns out my driver friend had left me after all. I hailed another taxi and returned to the airport, wondering if I had underpaid or overpaid the previous taxi driver. Nevermind, Kurdistan awaited.