Spires and Chaos

We arrived in Istanbul in early evening and the city was strewn with lights which made everything appear magical as we were driven into Sultanahmet from the airport. Our first real visual impression was surprise and delight at how delicate and graceful were the minarets poking holes in the sky around the Blue Mosque. It is amazing how they stand so tall and yet are so fragile.

So, a lovely first glimpse that we took to bed that night in our homely two-bedroomed apartment all of two hundred paces from the Blue Mosque walls. Perfectly positioned in a cobbled little sökük where half the dwellings are crumbled, in ruins, awaiting permission for a rebuild, while the other half are old Ottoman houses that have recently been renovated, dressed in new wooden panels with fresh rich coatings of paint or stain. Everywhere there are tiny restaurants selling koftas and kebabs, Ottoman kitchens decorated with ceramic and quartz mosaic lanterns casting dim pools of light into dark alley corners, adding to the magic.

Our second impression involved our first experience with the call to prayer: the sound of the Adhan chanted by the müezzin erupted out of every loudspeaker atop every mosque within the vicinity. The first time we heard this, in our dimly lit apartment with strange night shadows lurking, it was almost disturbing, as if someone was in intolerable pain, having to wail though it. But over time we find we are quite getting used to it. We are even starting to think it wonkily enchanting. It is all part of that magic melting pot which makes Istanbul so unusual to us, so fascinating.

Thirty years ago there were some 500,000 people living in Istanbul. Today, in greater Istanbul, there are around 25 million. The place is growing exponentially, people being inexorably drawn into the city of spires and sultans. And, of course, tourists are everywhere in Sultanahmet. Which adds to the mix of insane traffic, constant construction, incessant touts and the chaotic movement of hoards of people. Vibrant.