The Old City, And How It Got Its Name
The Old City is home to many of Istanbul’s greatest hits: Topkapi Palace, the Hagia Sophia, The Blue Mosque, and the Grand Bazaar.
The problem is that every one of these locations is on the Istanbul Tourist Bucket List. If you come here, you will visit these sites, so they are CROWDED. I think that feeling was exacerbated by the short trip. Cramming everything into five weeks made Turkey feel much more like a traditional tourist cadence than is comfortable for us.
Which is, of course, kind of laughable. I saw packaged tours that covered pretty much everything we did in Turkey in six days: Istanbul’s Old City, Cappadocia, Ephesus, and Pamukkale. If I told someone on one of those tours that we’d felt rushed covering that itinerary in five weeks they’d think we’d slipped a sprocket.
But that is legitimately how we felt. We’ve been talking about cadence a lot, and we think that three full months might be a little long in a lot of places. But five weeks is obviously way too short for how we like to travel. I think going forward we’ll consistently be in an 8-10 week cadence, depending on the location.
One of the weirder landmarks of the Old City is the Obelisk of Theodosius. It originally dates to roughly 1400 BC, and was actually the obelisk of Thutmose III. Constantine II moved it to Alexandria, to commemorate his awesomeness, in 357 AD. The loot was subsequently looted by Theodosius and moved to Constantinople in 390 AD.
It’s nice to know that colonialism, looting, and cultural appropriation have such a rich, deep history. Sometimes it seems like something the French just made up.
It’s also an objectively awesome thing. If I had the space I’d definitely appropriate it.
The Grand Bazaar
We’re going to start in our comfort place: shopping.
Of all the various Medinas and Old Cities we’ve visited, Istanbul’s Grand Bazaar stands out. Like everything else here, apparently, it’s old, with original construction having been completed in 1461 by the new Ottoman rulers of Constantinople. It’s big, with over 4,000 shops on 61 covered streets. And it’s crowded, with almost 3 million visitors/year, making it one of the top tourist attractions on the planet. It’s also very, very beautiful, more an orderly yet ornate indoor mall than a twisty ramshackle Medina.
The shops are as varied as you’d expect. Lots of jewelry, less textiles than you’d think, but enough to satisfy Dorothy. She found one shop that specialized in ikats from Uzbekistan, and she went back for a second round before we left. Uzbekistan has now vaulted to the top of the Where Next list.
The Cisterns of Mercy
Apparently there are 100s of cisterns ‘neath the streets of Istanbul, but the Basilica Cistern is the largest, and is fully open to the public. They’ve graciously kept the water level low, to keep visitors from drowning.
It’s an epic space, covering 100,000 square feet and holding 2.8 million cubic feet of water, with vaulted ceilings over 30 feet high. In its current incarnation as a tourist attraction it’s been artily lit, and it’s used for an evening concert series. Which seems dead on for ambience and acoustically just about the worst idea ever.
It’s a beautiful, peaceful space, and, if you’re willing to wait, it’s even possible to get pictures without hordes of people crowding the frame.
The Dolphins Of The Bosporus
I know I’m teasing. Topkapi! Hagia Sophia!! Blue Mosque!!! Patience, little one. We’ll get there.
But first, we were told by some folks that you could see dolphins sporting in the Bosporus on the stretch just below Topkapi and around the corner from the Golden Horn. So one morning, before enjoying the Old City’s sights, we made our way to the water.
Balat
We also visited Balat, a lovely old neighborhood in the Old City known for its colorful homes, steep streets, and beautiful views of the Golden Horn.
The local high school. Nothing foreboding about that. Nope. 
Not all of the buildings are colorful in the same way. 
Some eye bleeding one inch tile work. 
Just one of Balat’s many public amenities: a clock tower. 
Have we mentioned how good the Doner is here? And what sandwich isn’t immeasurably enhanced by stuffing it with fries?
Ottomans: They’re More Than Just Footstools
I wasn’t truly sure what to expect of Topkapi Palace. It served as the residence of the Ottoman sultans and the seat of administrative power from the 1460s until a new palace was built in 1856, so it was sure to be a grand edifice. But just about everything I knew about it I learned from Topkapi, the 1964 movie starring Maximilian Schell and Melina Mercouri. For reasons only a forensic psychologist could fathom, it was one of my favorite movies as a child.
It had everything a young boy’s heart could desire: exotic locales, priceless jewels, a clockwork heist, and Melina Mercouri. Who knew I’d someday get to visit? Nary a hint of Melina Mercouri, by the way. I looked everywhere.
In Morocco and Tunisia most of the places that called themselves museums kind of weren’t. For the most part they were museums of themselves, showcasing the design and history of their structures. Topkapi is obviously that, but it’s also a real museum. In fact, an amazing museum, with the quality of the collection on par with the Met.
Unlike the Met, which means to tell the entire history of the world, Topkapi has a laser-like focus on one specific thing: the lives of the Ottoman sultans who lived in and ruled from Topkapi Palace. Where the Met has breadth Topkapi has depth. That deep dive, into a world of almost unfathomable power and luxury, is amazing. It was good to be sultan.
The collections were divided up by category: rooms for costumes, weapons, jewels… Like the Met, way too much to see in a single visit. But I think we got the highlights.
The Armory
The armory surprised me. I was expecting something like the Met’s armor collection which, to be fair, I find a little musty. I’m sure that’s a failure of imagination on my part, but no such failure was possible at Topkapi’s armory exhibit. I think it was the first hall we entered, and it very much set the stage for the rest of our visit. Anything and everything can be made into decadently luxurious art, no matter how mundane the underlying object.
Case in point, the ludicrously overdecorated tools of war on display here, not one of which has ever seen, or was ever intended to see, battle.
An iron finial from the 16th-17th century. 
This beauty never went into battle. 
The banner of Selim II, 16th century. 
The ceremonial sword of Mehmed II, with a prayer elaborately calligraphed in gold. 
Honestly, not sure what this was, except for ridiculously detailed. 
Ceremonial armor of Sultan Mustafa III, 17th century. 
Not certain of the vintage. 
Honestly, these are just silly. 
18th century shield. I mean, they had guns in the 18th century. This hardly seems practical. 
But damn it pretty. 
Rattan. Even less effective against guns. Or probably anything. 
The exhibit hall, originally built in 1526 as the Treasury.
The Costume Room
You will be unsurprised to learn that it was difficult to get Dorothy to leave this exhibit. “I’m hungry” was met with a grudging, “All right. We can come back after lunch.”
She had ample cause to be so engrossed. This was our favorite exhibit, even accounting for the famous Topkapi jewels. While the objects in the other exhibits were amazing, they were not, for the most part useful; they were decorative in intent and execution. Or rather, they may have been useful, like a clock, but that clock’s value as an object was derived from the beauty of its execution, not the accuracy of its timekeeping.
But these were their actual clothes, what they wore as they went about the daily business of being sultan, or a member of the sultan’s family or retinue. This was an intimate look into the lives of people whose lifestyle would otherwise render them unknowable.
The Sultan’s Rooms
Interestingly, Topkapi Palace seemed a little subdued after touring the palaces of sultans and beys in Morocco and Tunisia. Those folks decorated to the tune of, “If some is good, more is better.” You can practically hear the architect screaming, “Look, that spot is undecorated. Fix it, before someone notices. And beheads me”
Big swaths of Topkapi, on the other hand, seemed more functional than decorative. One unsurprising exception being the sultan’s residence, as one might expect. Pretty fucking swanky.
The Harem
After the sultan’s rooms, the harem was the other place that was extravagantly decorated tip to toe. That befits the importance of the harem to Ottoman rule. The harem, sniggering aside, was a critical part of the Ottoman governing structure, offering both upward mobility and access to power.
Much of this had to do with how the Ottoman sultans dealt with slavery. The sultan’s male slaves were educated in palace schools and often went on to positions of influence and power, from military leaders to regional governors to grand viziers. More than one grand vizier had been enslaved.
For enslaved women, potential power radiated out from the harem. If a concubine gave birth to a son, that son was an official heir. The mother was responsible for guiding her son’s education, training, and career, in order to best position him as the next sultan.
This was a distinctly non-trivial matter, as the newly installed sultan’s first act was almost always killing his brothers, to secure the throne from threat. Who made it to the top of that heap mattered. If you successfully maneuvered your son onto the throne, you became valide sultan, the Queen Mother, and held enormous sway over matters of state. Despite having started out as an enslaved, harem-dwelling concubine.
Commensurate with its role in governance, the harem was a massive complex, practically its own standalone city within Topkapi Palace. At its peak the harem boasted 300-400 rooms, nine bathhouses, two mosques, its own kitchen, dormitories, a school, a hospital, and a laundry.
Typically opulent Ottoman domage. 
The sultan’s private quarters in the harem. 
The sultan’s bedchamber. 
A section of one of the harem’s many hammams. 
A faucet. Yep. That’s a faucet. 
The valide sultan’s (Queen Mother) seating room. 
The Pipe Room, with figures of the Chief Pipe Attendant and two of the ten lesser Pipe Attendants under him. Not depicted: the Pipe Lighter. Jesus. One can only imagine how many staff were required when the sultan decided to take a concubine. 
A door inlaid with mother of pearl. 
One of the courtyards. 
And its decorative awning. 
The tile work rivaled anything we saw in Morocco and Tunisia, and warrants its own slideshow.
This isn’t the first time we’ve seen Arabic calligraphy in tile, but it was an exceptionally strong recurring motif in the harem. 
An elaborately tiled corridor. The most extravagant tile work was in the harem. 
Wow. Just wow. 
It was a delight to see such playful work. 
The Tree of Life was a recurring motif. We also saw this in Nabeul in Tunisia. 
One of several deliciously tiled fireplaces. 
There was a cluster of tile work with figurative painting, all from the late 1600s, which we really hadn’t seen anywhere else. This portrays the mosque of the prophet in Medina. 
A depiction of the holy site of Mount Ararat. 
A depiction of the holy mosque in Mecca.
The Watch Room
Topkapi’s single most underwhelming display, conceptually. “Mom! Mom! Can we go to the Watch Room next?” You’d have your kids tested. But like everything else here, the contents of the Watch Room are executed at a level that neatly blurs the line between artistry and absurdity. Here are just a few choice examples from a surprisingly deep collection.
The Jewels
The Crown Jewels of Topkapi are… the jewels. More than any other exhibit, here is where the wealth and opulence of the Ottoman rulers really hits home. Honestly, some of this stuff is just ridiculous. But something can be both ridiculous and beautiful at the same time. I myself am living proof of that dictum.
The money shot. This is why you came. The Topkapi Dagger from 1747, that which was stolen in the movie. The largest emerald in the hilt is a bewildering 88 carats. 
An enormous raw pearl centers this figurine, a late 18th century gift to one of the princes (who did become sultan later, so, good investiment), 
Can’t have too many raw pearl figurines, if you’re prince. 
Actual massive fucking emeralds, surrounded by pearls positively dainty by comparison. 
A jewel encrusted bassinet. Because you’re a goddamned prince. 
A sultan’s throne. 
Custom 16th century chess pieces, displayed over an ornate inlaid chess board. 
Quran cover. 
Turban doodads. Not to use jargon. 
Early 16th century war booty. From the Battle of Chaldiran, as if you needed to be told. 
An early 19th century offering from the Mrs. Sultan to the Prophet Muhammad’s tomb. 
Easy to forget how beautiful the structures are, given the dazzling displays. 
The line to get into the jewel exhibit. We almost passed. and are glad we didn’t.
Museum of Turkish & Islamic Art
Yet another ridiculously old structure, the building that houses the Museum of Turkish & Islamic Art was built in 1524 as the palace for one of Suleiman the Magnificent’s grand viziers. Which sounds like an outtake from 1001 Nights, but is an actual historical fact. It sits across Sultanahmet Square from the Blue Mosque, close to Topkapi Palace, part of a very small area thick with history.
It’s one of the largest museums in Turkey, and covers the full range of art forms across all of Turkey’s various ethnic groups. It’s a comprehensive overview of local beauty, and not to be missed on a trip to Istanbul, even though it’s less well known than its neighbors.
Side Eye of the Ancients. 
This came with an elaborate backstory about one of the two door handles having been stolen in 1969. It’s been tracked to a private museum in Copenhagen, but attempts to repatriate it have yet to bear fruit. 
An Iranian bowl from the 11th/12th centuries. It would have fit right into any of the ceramics markets we visited. 
An illuminated Quran circa 1380. 
Another Quran, although we didn’t capture the date. 
A 14th century mosque lamp. 
This is a Qiblanuma, a lacquered wooden astrolabe from 1738. 
The map shows where the Qiblanuma can be used, with a list of cities below. 
A 16th/17th century carpet. 
In remarkable condition.
Diplomatic edicts from the Ottoman sultan took the form of beautifully illuminated and calligraphed documents called either Fermâns or Berâts. We saw examples throughout our museum visits in Turkey, but the standouts were here.
Istanbul Archaeology Museum
The Archaeology Museum was established in 1869 by Sultan Abdülaziz in the waning days of the Ottoman Empire. The building that houses the museum was purpose built in 1891, unlike its repurposed neighbors, so it’s only ever fulfilled its designed use.
The Ottomans were late to the party in acknowledging the value of their cultural patrimony, but Abdülaziz had his eyes opened on a European tour in 1867 that included visits to archeological museums in London, Paris, and Vienna. 1869 saw not only the inauguration of the Archaeology Museum but the establishment of the first laws governing the management and ownership of antiquities.
They had plenty of material to work with, even with a late start. The collection covers all of Turkey’s history, as well as artifacts from across the extended Ottoman Empire. Which was a substantial chunk of the ancient world. Unsurprisingly, the collection is eye bleedingly dense and beautiful. If you wanted to understand the origins of Western civilization, you could do way worse than a visit to the Istanbul Archaeology Museum.
Picking highlights from this museum was hard. The entire collection is highlights. Here’s our best shot.
Marble
As impressive as this collection was overall, I think the carved marble was the standout. From decorative friezes to statuary, the work was subtle, nuanced, and delicate. The statues were especially alive, looking at any moment like they might tap you on the shoulder and whisper in your ear.
Alexander the Great, from 3rd century BC Turkey. 
Turkish, 2nd century AD. 
Turkish, from between the 1st century BC and 1st century AD. 
Turkish statue of Tyche, as Carmen Miranda. 2nd century AD. 
A Turkish bust of Sappho from the 2nd century AD. 
A Roman period Turkish copy of a 3rd century BC Greek statue. 
Emperor Hadrian, with a gracious foot on the neck of his conquest. 1st century AD. 
A Roman era reproduction of a Greek statue of Artemis. We wondered what was up with the comically big hands, and it turns out the sculptor was just bad with hands.
Gods & Creatures
This was labeled “Relief Depicting Gigantomachy (Battle Between Gods and Giants).” Specifically, ripped gods with snakes for legs and tight, juicy buns. Just sayin’. 
Centaurs fighting (we didn’t grab the date or location). 
A pair of Eros cockfighting, because what else do they have to do? Turkish, 2nd century AD. 
Pretty lady sphinxes. 
A relief of a ritual sacrifice from Turkey, 5th century BC. 
A relief of a hero being welcomed, 2nd-3rd century BC, Turkish. 
Column and frieze, 2nd century AD, Turkey. 
Bes was an Egyptian god who became popular with Cypriots, who created this limestone statue between the 6th and 7th centuries BC. 
A Roman period lion from Turkey. Did you know the Turkish word for lion is aslan? 
Lion from the Mausoleum of Halicarnassus. Turkish, 350 BC. 
Lion of undocumented (by us) origin.
Archictectural Friezes
Gold
A gold crown from Izmir in Turkey, about 3rd Century BC. It’s a wonder that something this delicate has survived for so long. 
Gold diadems from 4th century BC. The one on top is from Muğla, a Turkish province, and the one below is from Rhodes. 
Nothing to see here except the world’s very first currency. 
Teeny gold dress ornaments from the 5th century BC. 
Sphinxy dress ornaments. 
These beautifully detailed lions were about 3/4″ across. 
More ridiculously detailed goldery. From the 6th-7th century BC.
Terracotta
How on earth have terracotta artifacts made it until now? Everything here dates from the 6th to the 14th centuries BC. This shit be old.
Early Bronze Age, from Troy 3. 
Turkish Medusa (Laughing Medusa? Cheerful Medusa? Hungry Medusa?) from 6th century BC. 
Early Bronze Age… duck? from Troy 2. 
Greek, somewhere in the 11th-14th centuries BC. 
An architectural detail from Sardis in Turkey, 6th/7th century BC. 
A tablet with that prophesied lunar eclipses from, wait for it… the 13th century BC.
Bronze
Not a lot, but what was there was choice.
The Blue Mosque
The Sultan Ahmed Mosque got its nickname from the profusion of blue tile work, mostly Iznik tiles from Anatolia. It didn’t seem all that blue to me, but what do I know. It was completed in 1617, and is still a functioning mosque. Which makes it a surprisingly quick visit, as most of the complex is off limits to heathens. Which, in turn, makes the parts that are accessible incredibly dense with tourists (that has to be the plural: a dense of tourists). Here’s the main hall.
The payoff comes from looking up. The central dome complex is stunning.
The rest of the interior Is just as eye catching. The Blue Mosque is one of the rare buildings we’ve seen on this tour whose primary cultural significance is its raw beauty. It wasn’t a seat of power, it wasn’t a sultan’s palace, it wasn’t the site of a meaningful conquest. It’s just one of the most beautiful structures man has ever created. That’s more than enough.
It’s not too shabby from the outside, either.
Hagia Sophia
First off, it’s not pronounced hay-gee-ah so-fee-ah. It’s pronounced hi-ya so-fee-ah. You’ll often see it anglicized as Aya Sofia, which I actually thought was a different place (“I want to see both!”). Because a passport doesn’t require an IQ test.
Like the Blue Mosque, Hagia Sophia is a working mosque, although its route has been decidedly more circuitous. The current structure was built by Justinian in 537 AD as the Christian cathedral in Constantinople, and was actually the third church built on the site. There has been a church there since 360. It was also the largest cathedral on the planet for literally 1,000 years, until the completion of the cathedral in Seville.
It was a Greek Orthodox church from 537 through 1453, except for a brief time out as a Latin Catholic Church during the Crusades in the 1200s. It became a mosque in 1453, when Constantinople fell to the Ottomans, and stayed that way until 1935, when it was turned into a museum. In 2020, Erdoğan had it turned back into a mosque to curry favor with a certain strain of Muslim voter.
So it’s a mosque chock full of Greek Orthodox images and iconography. But to me, the strangest thing about it is its age. We’ve seen older buildings on this tour, but they were ruins. Hagia Sophia is, arguably, the same building that was erected in 537. It’s gone through multiple cycles where artwork has been painted over and restored, and it’s not like nothing has changed since construction. The Ottomans added a minaret, and some of the domes collapsed in the late 500s and had to be rebuilt, but the structure itself is largely original.
Which is, frankly, mind-blowing. The first thing I thought of when we were there was the Ship of Theseus paradox. As I’m sure would have occurred to you, as well. As the myth recounts it, Theseus’s ship was brought out annually for a pilgrimage over hundreds of years. The boat was regularly maintained and restored: one year a new keel, another year a new rudder, another year new planks. At some point every part of the boat had been replaced. Was it still Theseus’s ship? If you ever want to see philosophers fight, and who doesn’t, toss a pair the Ship of Theseus paradox and stand back. Now that’s how you poke a bear.
Because the Hagia Sophia was so old, it seemed inconceivable to me that I wasn’t touring the Ship of Theseus. It couldn’t possibly be the same exact structure that was built in 537. But while I have found ample evidence of art restoration and the repair of actual damage to the structure, I can’t find anything to support the notion that the brick and mortar structure itself has been systematically replaced over the last 1,500 years. However it got there, at least one source lists it as the 11th oldest building on the planet that’s still in use. Even if parts have been replaced, it’s no small thing to be inside a building that old.
The main room is astounding. The calligraphic roundels were added in 1847, and are among the largest (7.5 meter diameter) of their kind in the world. They are the names of Allah, Muhammad, and a random selection of caliphs. 
I mean, if you like that kind of thing. 
The main dome is a sight to behold. 
The arched ceilings are a beautiful recurring motif. 
Beautiful stone carving. 
Stone fish! 
Viking graffiti. 
OK, this bit of floor I can totally believe is original. So, at worst, not a full on Ship of Theseus. 
They somehow were able to carve wafer thin slices of stone that they used as wall panels. 
The marble door leading to the Emperor’s private chambers.
The Angels
There are four angels, seraphim guarding God’s throne, in the pendants supporting the main dome. Two of the angels are original mosaic, while the other two were damaged and repainted as murals. When the Ottomans converted the church to a mosque they covered the angel’s faces due to the Islamic ban on representational images. Unlike the Byzantines, who literally defaced their own religion’s artifacts over sectarian disagreements, the Ottomans respectfully covered the angel’s faces with star-shaped metal caps. You can see one of the original angels, whose cap was removed during repairs in 2009.
There’s a Hagia Sophia History Museum off premises, but 90% of that is a weird “experience” where you walk from room to room while videos play and you listen on a language-specific headphone device. When that’s over there’s a small museum with, to be fair, some choice artifacts. Like most of the North African museums we visited, the Hagia Sophia is primarily a museum of itself, but it does have a few museum-y displays.
A 17th century Armenian reliquary. I do not want to know what’s inside. 
A Turkish saint’s reliquary from 1762. Reliquaries are just creepy. 
So let’s see another. They were still cranking these out in the early 19th century. 
Detail of a priest’s neck thingy (holy shawl?) from the 19th century. 
A relic from a breakaway Russian Orthodox sect that resettled in Anatolia. I think these were the guys who cracked their eggs at the bottom. 
A Letter of Conveyance from Sultan Abdülmecid, much like the Fermâns and Berâts we saw in the Museum of Turkish & Islamic Art. 1840.
Other than the space itself and the soaring main hall, the draw here is the mosaics, both geometric and figurative. This era Christian church loved it some mosaics, and the Hagia Sophia is practically pavéd with them. And those golden colored mosaic tiles? Gold. Nothing’s too good for our Jesus.
Christendom’s Greatest Hits. 
Mary on the left… 
The man himself, front and center where he belongs… 
And John the Baptist on the right. 
Yet another Mary, Jesus, John. 
Mosaic everywhere! 
Here’s a detail, and it’s complicated. On the right is Emperor Constantine, who built Istanbul, holding a model of the city. On the left is Emperor Justinian, who built Hagia Sophia, with its model. They’re both handing over their models to Mary and Baby Jesus. Of course I don’t know why. 
This is a 12th century mosaic commemorating a donation made to Hagia Sophia. That’s Emperor John II Komnenos on the left, holding a bag of cash, and Empress Eirene on the right with architectural plans. Jesus is in the middle, happy;ly accepting his tribute. 
Their son Alexios. 
A detail from Emperor John’s robe. 
Random Mary with scary Baby Jesus. I’m not sure they knew what babies looked like then.
