Holy of Holies

The Aya Sofya, or Haghia Sophia, Church of the Holy Wisdom, may no longer dominate the skyline of Istanbul as it once did, but it is still a beacon, an object of veneration, a sacred space to worshippers of many faiths. As I made my way up overland through the Middle East from Cairo I felt its lure. If Istanbul was the end of my rainbow, the Aya Sofya, I felt, would be the glittering pot of gold.

Aya Sofya has a proud pedigree. It was commissioned in the 6th century by the Byzantine Emperor Justinian. This was the Imperial church of his successors’ realms and was to remain the empire’s holiest spot for 900 years, until Mehmet the Conqueror took the city for the Ottomans. He personally rode to Aya Sofya and commanded a halt to the looting. Then he prayed. Church became mosque, and the continuity of worship continued, its sanctity respected. In 1934 it was opened to the public of all faiths and none as a museum. (In fact the only ones not to respect the church were fellow Christians; Catholic Crusaders sacked Constantinople in 1204 in preference to fighting the armies of Islam. Aya Sofya’s altar was smashed, and a prostitute was seated on the throne of the patriarch where she "sang and danced in the church, to ridicule the hymns and processions of the orientals". Its treasures were carted off as booty – St Mark’s Basilica in Venice alone is home to the Pala d’Oro, the porphyry ‘Four Tetrarchs’, and the Roman Horses that once adorned the neighbouring Hippodrome).

Entrance to Aya Sofya is 20TL, making it one of the more expensive things to do in Istanbul. But before entering keep going through the gardens towards the Blue Mosque to get a proper look at it. Compared to the elegant 16th century Ottoman mosques Aya Sofya ain’t much to look at. A sort of paté grey-pink colour, it squats. While once it was dizzying in its height and majesty it has had so many supporting buttresses and assorted tombs, libraries and baptisteries accreted on to it that now it splays out like a partially-melted snowman, diminishing its grandeur considerably.

Inside you enter the huge domed core of the basilica. This stood as the largest covered space in the world for a thousand years. The pinnacle of the dome stands 56m overhead, and it spans 30m, a mind-boggling feat back in the day, one that brings to mind other miraculous couldn’t-be-done domes such as the earlier Pantheon in Rome and Brunelleschi’s later Duomo in Florence. Justinian’s hagiographer Procopius stated that the dome "seems not to be founded on solid masonry, but to be suspended from heaven by that golden chain". Justinian’s own judgement? "Solomon, I have surpassed thee". This was designed as a new Temple, the holiest place in the world, planned to bring divine grace and favour upon dynasty and realm and awe its rivals. It clearly worked. Stunned ambassadors of Kievan Rus reported back that they "knew not whether we were in heaven or on earth… We only know that God dwells there among men…"

The interior is dark, light filtering through its few high windows and flickering from low-hanging chandeliers. The stone-work is dark too, not the riot of glittering gold tiling I had imagined. In fact the first impression is a gloomy one, as though outliving its benefactors, its empire, and its religion has cast a sombre shadow across this once most magnificent of churches. Despite almost continuous maintenance Aya Sofya is degrading before your eyes. Scaffolding swathed the northern wall, and beneath the galleries I saw small piles of peeling plaster, and lost pigeons fluttering from column to moulding and back or just pacing the dusty floor. However, it some ways these forgotten corners were more atmospheric than the great central nave. The Swiss Fossati brothers renovated the mosque in the 19th century. While their work to shore up the edifice was dearly needed some of their additions – painted fake marble sheathing and the huge pendant medallions bearing Arabic calligraphy in the nave – are frankly rubbish. Also beneath the galleries at least the chatter and footfalls of tourists were hushed and muffled; back in the nave they echoed like a wall of sound. For you will not be left alone with your thoughts here. More than anywhere else in Istanbul it is Tourist Central. And the layout of the floor tends to funnel them towards certain choke points, for despite its expanse the nave can feel almost cluttered. The two massive carved marble urns were almost certainly looted from elsewhere in antiquity, but it is the carved minbar that really channels the crowds into a holding pattern before the apse. High above here are mosaics of the Virgin Mary and Archangel Gabriel, once covered over during Aya Sofys’a incarnation as a mosque.

Walking among the crowds thronging that cavernous space I did not feel inspired by the sanctity of the site, I did not feel awed by the majesty of its construction; I merely felt slightly let down. Perhaps I had been building it up in my mind for too many years, but I felt disappointed. This changed once I discovered the way up to the galleries. Head to the north-west corner (left from where you enter). Over here you will find the weeping column of St Gregory the Miracle-Worker. There is a gap in the column’s brass cladding, and a hole worn by eight centuries of thumbs; the trick is to insert your thumb in the hole, fingers facing down towards the base of the column, then rotate your hand 360 degrees. Just past here is the way up to the galleries. Now this does transport you back through the centuries. A shallow ramp, certainly shallow enough for a horse to be ridden up it, switch-backing upwards, the walls made of thin red brick tiles glued together by layers of cement almost as thick, all very romanesque. Once up in the galleries progress anti-clockwise. Once through the marble portal known as the ‘Gates of Heaven & Hell’ you will find three very impressive Byzantine gold mosaics. The first is the Deisis starring a Christ Pantocrator, right hand raised in blessing. Opposite it there is a grave in the floor. This is the last resting place of Enrico Dandolo, Doge of Venice, the man who loosed the Crusaders to sack the city. In that context it is about as appropriate as Adolf Hitler getting a prime burial plot in Warsaw.

Carrying on towards the apse you will find two more great mosaics, glorifying the Byzantine rulers. One shows the Virgin, dandling an infanct Jesus, flanked by Emperor John II Comnenus, who ruled 1118-1143, and his Empress Irene (who overturned the iconoclast policy and therefore allowed mosaics like this to be created). Their son Prince Alexius has been added as an afterthought on the corner of the wall. The other depicts Christ in gorgeous blue robes being paid homage by Emperor Constantine IX Monomachus and his Empress Zoe. Or rather I should say ‘Empress Zoe and her Emperor Constantine IX Monomachus’, for the royal line had passed down through Zoe, and the mosaic originally depicted one of her three earlier husbands; it was amended after her marriage to Constantine. They ruled jointly from 1042 to 1055. All are lavishly backed by the shimmering gold we tend to instinctively associate with Byzantine mosaics, with the various imperials dressed in ornate tesselated and patterened robes, that do indeed evoke the decorations of the Pala d’Oro.

The final mosaic is seen on the exit from Aya Sofya. You exit through the route that the emperors used to take from their place quarters. The last room is where their bodyguard used to wait for them, the Vestibule of the Warriors. Turning back, over the Portal of the Emperor there was an image to remind the city’s rulers of the sacred duty. Mary and Jesus are being honoured by two illustrious forebears. To the right Constantine offers the city of Constantinople itself, and on the left Justinian presents a model of Aya Sofya (or the ‘Haghia Sophia’ as it was in those days). It is interesting to see what the great church would have looked like in those days without the later accretions built up and around it.

The Aya Sofya was not as impressive and uplifting as I had previously imagined it to be. If it had not been for the ability to climb to the galleries and see mosaics up close I would have actually been rather diappointed with the experience. As it was I would have to say that if in Istanbul with time to spare this should be one of the places you should endeavour to see – though even then I would personally prioritise the Topkapi Palace, the Blue Mosque and taking a trip out on the Bosphorus.

According to my Rough Guide "many architectural historians are scathing about the Blue Mosque’s aesthetic merit". But what do they know? I personally found the Blue Mosque one of my favourite places in Istanbul. It is stunning from the outside and charming from the inside. I heartily encourage a visit.

The Blue Mosque’s official name is the Sultan Ahmet Camii. The mosque, like the area surrounding it, is named after Sultan Ahmet I who almost exhausted the imperial treasury to finance its construction in the early seventeenth century. The mosque was, in effect, a great cosmic bribe; wars had been going badly for his forces and Ahmet wished to appease Allah with a new grand imperial mosque. This would be chief mosque of his empire, fulfilling the same functions as Aya Sofya did for the Byzantines. This actually created dissension among the sultan’s advisers, as it was being constructed from a position of weakness; previous imperial mosques had been funded wholly from war booty. Moreover to cement its position Ahmet ordered his architect to construct six minarets. Cue more criticism – the only mosque to have six minarets at that time was the holiest of all, in Mecca. As a result the sultan had to fund a seventh minaret for Mecca, yet another drain on resources. But complaints about Ahmet’s folly did not go away. To be fair it probably also didn’t help that the mosque was to be sited where many of his courtiers had their own palaces.

From the outside the mosque is quite spectacular. It is well situated across from the Aya Sofya (with some pretty gardens in between), and abuts the Hippodrome, the open area that once housed Byzantine chariot races and is now studded with obelisks. It is a pale dove grey, a cascade of shallow domes and half-domes. A minaret stands at each corner. An attached courtyard covers approximately the same area; the other two minarets are at its far corners. Entrance is through this court. I’m not sure if it is always like this, but on my visit the courtyard was full of booksellers’ stalls. From here you circle around to a veranda. It is here that you remove your shoes. Also if you are dressed inappropriately (shorts or short skirts, bare shoulders) you can be loaned a shawl to wrap yourself in. Women should ensure that their heads are covered too.

Once inside you can see why it is nicknamed the Blue Mosque. The interior is clad with over 20,000 tiles. Not all of these are blue – in fact very few are just one uniform colour. But many have patterns, traceries, calligraphy or highlighting in various shades of blue. These are the work of the famous kilns of Iznik, which were pushed to absolute capacity to meet the demands of the sultan. The domes soar overhead. It is much easier to make out their details than in Aya Sofya. Partly this is due to the use of pale tiles rather than dark stone. And partly it is because there are over 200 windows in the mosque. This is not a sombre, austere place of worship to a glowering god, but a playful, elegant one instead. Furthermore, I found the overall atmosphere much more peaceful and reverant than in Aya Sofya, understandably so as this is still a working place of worship. Half the floor area is cordoned off to provide space for those who wish to pray. That, and the enforced removal of shoes, instills a certain mindset into visitors that is absent at Aya Sofya. A look around does not take long, but it is likely to be a blessed respite from the hubbub outside, an oasis of spiritual calm among the crowds and noise of Sultanahmet.

There is no entrance fee to visit, though at the exit there is a desk asking for donations – I gladly gave 10TL. There are also leaflets in a number of languages explaining the core tenets of Islam and striving to correct some of the more common misconceptions about the religion.

The Topkapi Sarayi occupies the most easterly point of Sultanahmet. To the south is the Sea of Marmara, to the east the Bosphorus, to the north the Golden Horn. This creates some quite heavenly fresh breezes around this pleasant wooded area, and it is understandable that this has always been prime real estate (the palace of the Byzantine emperors lay just to the south west). Since the mid-15th century it has been occupied by the famed Topkapi Palace, home of the Sultans of the Ottoman Empire and the Caliphs of Islam until 1853, practically a suburb in itself.

The ‘First Courtyard’ of the Palace lies outside its walls. This was free for all citizens to visit. Now there are two access points – through the Imperial Gate near Aya Sofya and up past the Aya Irene church, or up through the signposted paths into Gülhane Park to the north-west towards Sikeci. Here you circle to the right past the entrance to the archaeological museums and the Darphane (former Imperial mint). The turretted Gate of Salutations, resonant more of Bavaria than the Bosphorus, marks the entrance to the palace proper. The ticket offices are just to the right. We arrived at 9:00 prompt, opening time, and there were no queues – we paid our 20TL each and received our tickets. These tickets allow you access to the Second, Third and Fourth Courtyards and the associated museum collections (including the Treasury, despite what some guidebooks state). The only section of the palace off-limits is the Imperial living quarters or Harem, for which there is another ticket stand just before its entrance – I will cover this separately.

Once through the Gate of Salutations, or Ortakapi (Middle Gate), you find yourself in the Second Court, given over to the administration of the realm. Ahead across the court is the Bab-üs Saadet, the Gate of Felicity. The entire right-hand wall of the court is given over to kitchens to feed the palace’s inhabitants. To the left were the stables. Ahead and to the left is the entrance to the Harem, and the Divan. The Divan is a surprisingly small set of rooms where affairs of state were settled by the imperial councillors. It takes its name from the red-upholstered couch running along the walls. In one wall you can see a golden grille – this was known as ‘The Eye of the Sultan’, as it was from here that the more responsible (or paranoid) sultans could keep an eye on his advisers. In time the administration moved out to the Sublime Porte of the Grand Viziers.

You pass from the Second Courtyrad to (logiocally enough) the Third Courtyard through the Gate of Felicity. These was a more private are for the sultan; back in the day no one could pass through this gate without the sultan’s express permission. Even the Grand Vizier was only granted authorisation of specified times and under specified conditions. Consider yourself privileged! Immediately ahead is the colonnaded Throne Room, and beyond it the modest grey library of Ahmet III. The outside walls of the courtyard are now occupied by various themed exhibitions. I will tackle them in an anticlockwise direction, heading right as soon as you bypass the Throne Room.

First is the Hall of the Campaign Pages, now home to the Imperial Wardrobe Collection. Upon the death of a sultan his clothes were ceremoniously packed away in sealed bags and stored… somewhere. Which means that today we are able to see almost pristine clothing dating back to Mehmet the Conqueror in the 15th century. There are a lot of sumptuous embroidered silks that had the girls in the party cooing. One cannot help but wonder at the physiques of the sultans who wore such kaftans, close fitting over the chest, but so long and wide below the waist. And you can also see the westernisation of the sultanate in the 19th century as silks and robes gave way to greys and military uniforms.

Next along is the Treasury. It is worthwhile to get here early. We got in with no trouble, but by the time we left there was quite a long queue. You get a bit regimented here. Essentially guards ensure you filter around the walls of a set of joined rooms, once the Pavillion of Mehmet II, at walking pace. The treasures of the Ottoman sultans are displayed behind glass. No dawdling, or running, or loud voices are tolerated!

The displays are heaven for those who like their bling. Magnificent confections of gemstones and gold are interspersed among more delicate craftsmanship. One of the stand-outs is the Topkapi Dagger, made famous by the 1964 film Topkapi that saw Peter Ustinov win an Oscar. The hilt of this curved weapon is decorated with three chunky emeralds (one of which apparently hides a watch!). This was to have been a diplomatic gift from Sultan Mahmut I to the Shah of Persia in 1741. After it had been dispatched east news came through to Istanbul that the Shah had been assassinated (Shah mat, checkmate, ‘the king is ambushed’). Riders were immediately sent out to overtake the diplomatic mission and bring the Dagger back to Topkapi. Another interesting display shows the awards and orders granted to the 19th century sultans by European powers. It is interesting to note that sultans such as Abdulmecid I and Abdulaziz were granted the Order of the Garter by Queen Victoria in practically the same era that Gladstone (four times her prime minister) was calling for the Turks to be swept "bag and baggage" out of Europe (indeed his railing against the Ottomans’ ‘Bulgarian atrocities’ during his 1879 Midlothian Campaign led to Gladstone winning the general election). Other distinctions come from France, Spain, and Denmark.

After these first two rooms there is a small portico in the corner, looking out of the water and seemingly catching every possible breeze. Put simply, this is the loveliest spot in Istanbul. It would have been worth becoming sultan just for the view and the chance to relax here alone.

Continuing into the third room you find the Spoonmaker’s Diamond. This is the fifth largest diamond in the world and used to adorn the turban of the sultan. According to legend it was found in an Istanbul midden in the 16th century. Its discoverer, not knowing its worth, sold it for three spoons.

Across the courtyard is the Pavilion of the Holy Mantle, home to the sacred relics collected by the sultans in their role as Caliph of Islam. Chief amongst these is the cloak (mantle) of the Prophet Mohammed (PBUH) himself. Mohammed is also represented by a cast of his footprint, a tooth, a letter from him, and a hair of his beard ("By the beard of the Prophet!"). Relics of other figures from the great monotheistic religions are also on display – the hand of John the Baptist, the sword of King David, the staff of Moses, and (and I swear I’m not making this up!) the frying pan of Abraham. Which is presumably where he made his holy macaroni. There are also assorted locks and keys to the ka’aba in Mecca, which fell under the caliphs’ guardianship until the Arab Revolt.

A fourth gallery is next door, a selection of paintings and miniatures of the sultans. Frankly you can miss this, though as it is free you might as well browse for a few minutes ogling the size of Suleyman the Magnificent’s turban and noting how portraiture took on more conventional European models in the 19th century.

Out into the Fourth Courtyard you are presented with the Ottomans’ private gardens. Again, some of the loveliest spots in Istanbul. Bear left past the Revan Kiosk . Here you will find a large shallow pool and a terrace. The left of the terrace is anchored by the Circumcision Kiosk, the right by the wonderfully ornate Baghdad Kiosk. This kiosk is superb inside – stained glass windows, delicate blue tiles on the walls, red tiles on the underside of the dome, inlaid mother-of-pearl cupboard doors. Back on the terrace there is a little pergola’d bower overlooking the lower gardens and with a view across to Galata. The sultans apparently used to break their fasts here – how sweet.

There is a reason the Topkapi Palace is the top tourist attraction in Istanbul. Combined with a tour of the harem, it is a great look into a period of absolute rule, overlaid with the orientalist mysteries that have fascinated westerners for centuries – sultans and viziers, concubines and eunuchs, machinations and debauchery, luxury and cruelty, all knit together in the history of the Ottoman empire. Notably, when the sultans started to consciously model themselves after European monarchs in the mid-19th century (and became a heck of a lot more boring!) they vacated Topkapi for more decorous residences. Topkapi Palace shows you the glory, the majesty and the madness of the Ottomans in their prime.

One option you have while you are visiting the Topkapi Palace, is to pay an extra fee to have a look at the Harem. A stall near the Divan in the Second Courtyard sells tickets for 15TL which allow you to investigate the Harem at your own pace. This is actually the most built-up area of the palace, a tight network of over 400 rooms that served as the private chambers of the sultan and his family. The sultan would live here with his wives, odalisques (female slaves who hoped to bear him a child and progress to being a full wife), children, eunuchs, and often his mother. These Valide Sultans often wielded immense influence and power. So the harem wasn’t all couches and dancing girls. It also contained the infamous Kafes, or Cage. The Ottomans were notoriously fratricidal, and upon accession to the throne a new sultan would routinely execute all possible rivals within his family. The Cage was a system to prevent this necessity. Instead young princes would be incarcerated in a suite of chambers with only deaf-mutes and concubines (with their ovaries excised) for company. The end result was generations of debauched and crazed rulers who could not deal with the outside world and were used to commanding absolute obedience. At least two inhabitants committed suicide. Osman II emerged with a love of archery, which he would practice upon live (human) targets. According to myth his bodyguards strangled him with a bowstring before replacing him with his uncle Mustafa I. Mustafa was neurotic, and spent his year in power searching the palace for his nephew who he believed was still alive. His successor Murad IV banned tobacco and coffee, and policed this personally, stalking the streets of Istanbul at night in plain clothes and murdering any smokers with his 60kg mace. ‘Ibrahim the Mad’ suffered from depression and neurasthenia. He was obsessed with obese women; when one was found who weighed over 330 pounds he allegedly gave her a governorship. On another occasion he ordered 280 members of his harem drowned in the Bosphorus in a fit of jealousy. In just eight years of rule he brought the empire to the brink of collapse.

You can tour the Harem unguided, but there is a very clear route marked out along the length of the ‘Golden Road’. Frankly the way is confusing, leading down corridors, through bath chambers, into throne rooms and antechambers. Walls are intricately tiled, providing eastern touches to rooms that are in other places all flouncy rococo, like a Versailles-by-the-sea. And there are some frankly exquisite stained glass windows. In the European gothic tradition each pane of glass would be one uniform colour, held together by lead flashing. As seen here, however, the glass itself would be minutely detailed, and backed by a masonry trellis-work, further diluting the light that would pour through. As elsewhere in Topkapi there are good explanatory panels – though they fall short of the more prurient details like the Cage.

Obviously you have to pay two entrance fees to gain access – 20TL to enter the Palace at all, and then an extra 15TL surcharge. However the look you get at Imperial life in this city-within-a-city is, I think, worth it. More could be done with it I feel – maybe some music or background sound effects, some running water, more dioramas – but on the whole you do get to see some lovely luxurious touches. This is the private life of the sultans, away from the ceremonial trappings that would have come into play in the outer courts of the palace.

The archaeological museums of Istanbul are not famous. In many ways they are a forgotten footnote to the history of Turkey. And this is ridiculous. Ancient Turkey was home to Trojans, King Midas, and the Golden Fleece. Ramses II got this far north; Alexander the Great got a good deal further south and east; the Romans were firmly in control. Turkey’s archaeology is just as storied as that of Greece or Italy, yet it seems to be mostly forgotten save as day trips to Troy or Ephesus. Whilst commonsense should have told me that Istanbul would of course have an archaeological museum, it was not one that I had heard of, or had resolved to visit before my trip. But this complex in Gülhane Park, abutting on to the grounds of the Topkapi Palace is well worth a few hours of your time. As a self-professed history nerd I was well and truly in my element!

Your 10TL ticket will get you access you no less than three museums – the Çinili Pavilion, the Museum of the Ancient Orient, and the Archaeological Museum itself.

I started off with the actual Archaeological Museum, the largest of the three collections. Indeed it is a surprisingly hefty collection that is liable to cause museum fatigue. This collection was started by Osman Hamdi Bey, who forbade western archaeologists / collectors / looters from taking the nation’s cultural heritage abroad. For this he is rightly praised; what is not mentioned is the irony that many of the exhibits in the three museums actually hail from the parts of the Ottoman empire that now comprise Lebanon, Syria, Iraq and Israel. Turning left inside the museum I came to just some examples of this, the museum’s star exhibits, a set of huge ornate sarcophagi that comes from Sidon in Lebanon. The Lycian Sarcophagus is carved with mythological creatures such as centaurs, griffons and sphinxes. The Alexander Sarcophagus shows battle and hunt scenes, in which Alexander the Great figures prominantly. This was not the tomb of Alexander though, but of his ally Abdalonymus, King of Sidon, who was obviously keen to associate himself with the great conqueror. The carvings are awe-inspiring, the horses and soldiers standing proud of the rest of the marble; I cannot even begin to think how the masons could have carved behind them. The weaponry (swords and spears) would have been slotted into the hands of the stone warriors, but all but one have now vanished. And as an information panel shows, traces of paint show that this would once have been painted in garish hues. A final sarcophagus from Sidon is the Sarcophagus of the Mourning Women, depicting women grieving the death of King Straton.

This leads on to further tombstones, some with pretty natty curses on them, and pediments from some of Turkey’s Hellenic temples. All the rooms are well annotated in English. Returning to the other wing there are lots of free-standing statues of gods and heroes, displayed as in an art gallery. Large-scale photographs of particular details hang from the walls. The whole thing is very pretty. The new building at the back has displays from the nearby areas of Thrace and Bithynia, and then a large area devoted to the Byzantines. Here you can see their pulpits and tombs, and learn about all the different aspects of their rule. One interesting area shows just how much history is buried under modern-day Istanbul – it is the finds thrown up by construction of a cross-town underground route. Pride of place here goes to a boat found in the ancient harbour.

Upstairs there are more rooms devoted to Turkey’s different cultures. Displays walk you through the different ages of Troy. You are introduced to the Hittites. Translated tablets from Hattusha range from historical records to curses placed on enemies and spells to correct male impotence. The last two place particular emphasis on being quite unneccessarily cruel to poor old ducks! Upstairs again, and you find more displays on the prehistories of neighbouring countries that were once under Ottoman control, from Cyprus to Palmyra. On the whole there is plenty to interest even if the mustard-brown furnishings that seem to have been lifted from a ‘60s Bond villian’s lair do get very repetitive and soul-destroying after a while.

Across from the entrance to the Archaeological Museum is the smallest of the three buildings: the Çinili Kiosk (Tiled Pavilion). This is now the Museum of Turkish Ceramics. I personally wasn’t overly interested in the development of ceramics, but some of the tiles on display are frankly beautiful. It is well worth a nose around.

Finally I visited the Museum of the Ancient Orient. Its doors are guarded by some cuddly-looking Hittite lions in black basalt dating from the 9th century BC. Inside there is are exhibits from pre-classical Turkey and the wider middle east. This includes famous regions such as Egypt, and also lesser-known ones like the Arabian peninsula – who even knew people could scratch a living down there? But the core of the museum are the civilisations from Anatolia and Mesopotamia. There are Assyrian statues and Sumerian love poems. Glazed blue and yellow tiles from the processional Ishtar Gate in Babylon were easily recognisable – I had seen these lions and mushushu dragons on display at the British Museum back in February. In amongst the Hittite relics you can see the Treaty of Kadesh, recognised as the first peace treaty in the world, signed between the Hittites and Pharoah Ramses II after the Battle of Kadesh. Though the way Ramses spins it in the images on the walls of his sun temple at Abu Simbel you would think it was a resounding Egyptian victory! A copy of this treaty now graces the UN headquarters in New York.

I have to say, I’m glad I spent a morning exploring these museums, tucked away as they are. There are some lovely exhibits here, and they are displayed and explained well. They are good for everything from a quick sprint round with children to see the stand out exhibits up to a full and scholarly exploration.

Istanbul has always been characterised as a city on the water. The views and traffic of the Bosphorus, Sea of Marmara, and Golden Horn make the city what it is. However, it was in 1545 that a French visitor by the name of Petrus Gyllius realised that Sultanahmet really was a city on water, and that a separate aquatic world lay just below his feet.

Today the rim of the Galata Bridge is crowded with anglers, and you can buy fried fish sandwiches down on the waterfront. What struck Gyllius was that despite being hemmed in by the sea on three sides, he was constantly seeing fresh freshwater fish for sale. Upon questioning the locals he was guided to cellars beneath the streets. Buckets lowered down would come up brimming with fresh water. And ladders led down into an echoing darkness, the only sound that of oars as the townsfolk rowed an immense underground lake in search of fresh catches of fish.

This underground world was properly no lake, but a manmade construction, as the regular placement of supporting columns showed. And after a sympathetic restoration job visitors can now descend into the atmospheric Yerebatan Sarayi (‘Sunken Palace’). Of course this was not a palace, but merely a cistern, probably constructed under Constantine the Great and Justinian in the 4th and 5th centuries, and supplied by aqueducts from the Belgrade Forest 12 miles away. But still, its survival is a great testament to the imperial masons who constructed it.

Entrance is via an unprepossessing ticket booth on Yerebatan Caddesi (10TL). Here you descend into this fantastical Hall-of-the-Mountain-King-type space. It is poularly known in English as the ‘Basilica Cistern’ because it was near the basilica of the Aya Sofya; however, its graceful columns and vaulted ceiling arches give it the impression of of an old romanesque church or crypt. There are 336 marble columns, each 9m tall, each 4.8m from its neighbour. In total the cistern is 140m by 70m, and has a capacity to store 80,000 cubic metres of water. M. Gyllius explored this vast space by boat in 1545. So did James Bond in From Russia With Love. (Ian Fleming loved to write about what he knew, so it is likely he had done similar prior to writing about it; however, it is the Sean Connery film that is most remembered. Of course, the Russian / Soviet consulate they went to eavesdrop on actually stands Istiklal Caddesi in Galata in real life fact fans).

Down in the darkness, ruddy uplighting and haunting eastern music create a ghostly atmosphere. It is more reminiscent of Dante than Fleming now – it could be a stand in for one of the levels of Hades itself, the cloaked Charon silently appearing to ferry souls across the Styx. However, there are no boats down here these days, just suspended duckwalks to lead you in to the forest of columns. It is a mysterious underground world. No more than a foot of water covers the paving beneath your feet, but it still provides a home to fish. Goldfish cluster in pools of light. A splash and a series of ripples out in the deeper water betrays the passage of a larger carp, kings of their watery world. Or at least I think they were carp. In this underworld it is impossible to be too certain…

The walkways channel you out into the furthest, darkest corner of this dripping, echoing space. Here, in an oddly angled crook of masonry you will find the mysterious medusae. Medusa was one of the three gorgons, sisters with snakes for hair. In Greek mythology her glance would turn mortals to stone. And yet here there are two immense carved heads in stone, two Medusas. Yet these were not placed as decorative features, but merely as column bases. One lies upon its side, seemingly crying a puddle of water; the other is totally inverted. But why use them at all? Why hide them down here in the furthest corner of this vast underworld, inverted and turned towards the wall? Constructed by Christian emperors the Basilica Cistern may have been, but it is clear that the old stories and myths still had the power to scare. Superstition may have prevented the destruction of these medusae; superstition may have prevented their remaining above ground. So instead they were secreted down here, lapped by the water that would have made its way into the drinks of emperors and sultans. Maybe this is why, I fancifully wondered, Istanbul is such a meeting-place of worlds – European and Asian, modern and ancient, splendid and decaying, Islamic and Christian and pagan. Had I too been drinking Medusa’s tears…?

While the legacy of the Ottoman sultans is everywhere to see in Istanbul, especially in Sultanahmet, I was fascinated by their predecessors, the Byzantines. We tend to think of the Byzantines as a brief lacuna between the split of the Roman empire and the coming of Islam. However their empire lasted for over 1000 years, a remarkably long time for any system of government. In comparison Istanbul has only been an ‘Islamic’ city for 550 years. I wanted to find out more about these people.

However, there ain’t much about. Istanbul was built atop Byzantium. Excavations are ongoing around the former Byzantine palace to the south east of Topkapi and Aya Sofya. When I visited in August 2009 hoardings stated that it should be open to the public by late 2008. Aya Sofya was far from the only church converted into a mosque; most were, as a list in the Archaeological Museum shows. However way out to the west, tucked just inside the old city walls of Theodosius II, one church survives that was never reconsecrated in the name of Islam – St Saviour in Chora. No longer ministering, it is open to the public as the Kariye Museum.

No tram or underground lines seem to go anywhere near this neck of the woods. Tour buses do seem to include it on their itinerary though. I took a taxi – it costs 8-10TL each way. While the church is located inside the city walls (which I was able to see from the taxi window on the way back; the famous pink-banded stone that the English King Edward I imitated in the masonry of Caernarfon Castle is still visible) this area was once rural. ‘Chora’ means countryside. The church itself is 11th century, but its mosaics and frescoes date from 1315-1321. It was at this time that Theodore Metochites, a Byzantine bigwig, endowed it with art that has survived much better than that in more central churches.

The church is located in a pleasant valley area in Edirnekapi. Wooden pastel-painted houses surround it. The small square in front of it has souvenir shops. The prices looked excellent until I realised that they were quoting in Euros rather than Lira. And there is a fantastic restaurant tucked off to one side (Asithane). Entrance is 15TL, and takes you to a path that winds around the exterior of the domed church. Like the city walls themselves, the white walls of the church are banded with stone in a contrasting colour.

Inside you find two narthexes. Each is a riot of gilt mosaics. The outer shows the infancy of Christ, the inner the Life of the Virgin, based upon the apocryphal Gospel of St James. Her parents, Joachim and Anne, feature prominently. The inner also supports two bulbous domes. These are centred upon images of Christ and the Virgin Mary. The flutes of the domes depict various members of Jesus’ family tree. From here you can proceed to the naos. The most eye-catching of the mosaics here is The Dormition of the Virgin - Mary on her death-bed watched over by apostles and her son himself.

However I would say that the most fascinating area for exploration would be the side-chapel, or parecclesion. This was a funeral chapel, and so its decoration is concerned with themes of Judgement and Resurrection. But unlike the rest of the church, here the decorations are frescoes rather than mosaics. And frankly it turned all my preconceived notions of Byzantine art on their head. I had worked on the assumption that Byzantine art = static gold-leaf icons, and that it was not until the period of Cimabue and Giotto that Italy was liberated from its lifeless shackles. Yet the mosaics here show plenty of verve and life. And they dated from 1320, only 15 years after Giotto was working on his spectacular Scrovegni Chapel in Padua. The anastasis, or Resurrection scene, for example, shows a dynamic Christ dragging Adam and Eve from their tombs. You can almost hear him shouting "Lets go!" in an American accent. The Righteous look on animatedly, and just visible beneath is a black Satan, crushed amongst a maelstrom of fetters. Images of Paradise and eternal torment process along the walls.

The mosaics and frescoes here are quite beautiful, and well worth a trip out to Edirnekapi if you have time. Plus, as an added bonus, some worthy sight-seeing also gives you the excuse to eat at the neighbouring Asithane Restaurant, where I had my favourite meal in Istanbul.

Istanbul is a European city. There may be concern within some EU member states as to whether Turkey is a European country, but there can be no doubt that this city is European. And if there is any doubt, there is one easy cure: visit Istiklal Caddesi.

Istiklal Caddesi is the pre-eminent address in Istanbul. It cuts through the heart of the district of Beyoğlu. A 1.5km long pedestrianised street, it is lined with shops, restaurants and bars. Yet more cluster on its side- and parallel-streets. It is thick with crowds at seemingly any time of the day or night; Istanbul at play. In the 19th century this was known as the Grand Rue de Pera and those who promenaded its length were the merchants, diplomats, bankers and brokers of the Great Powers. Russian, Swedish, Dutch, French, Italian and British consulates still sit on or near it. Now it is still a place to see and be seen, but those who congregate here are primarily Turkish, young, and affluent. The average age seemd to be somewhere around 26. Designer clothes and styled hair are the norm. A scruffy backpacker like me definitely let the side down!

Walking down Istiklal is a must when visiting Istanbul. Seeing the modern face of this historic city is important to see both sides of the story; no longer a decaying ancient capital, Istanbul is a vibrant, forward-looking metropolis, the equal of many European capitals. And there are plenty of places to stop off en route. There are numerous coffee shops and juice bars along the way. Other bars line the side-streets. Music echoes down the passageways and the rainbow flag flies freely. The Balik Pazari along Nevizade Sokak is the fish market, and the restaurants here specialise in seafood.

If you do not want to walk 1.5km each way, there is a dinky red antique tram that covers the route between Tűnel Meydani and Taksim periodically.

The northern end of Istiklal is anchored by the massive Taksim Square. Turks are inordinately proud of their Taksim, though heaven alone knows why. Grubby, whizzing with traffic, framed by brutalist modern architecture, it looks the sort of place you would expect to find in a former-Soviet central Asian republic. Its one saving grace is a small thread-bare park (Taksim Parki) with shady trees.

As I was staying in Sultanahmet I approached from the south, over the Galata Bridge. This stretches over the famed Golden Horn. A constant stream of boats passes beneath its middle. Restaurants and bars line its lower levels. The footpaths above are lined with anglers. They all seem to have great success with fish. Several of them also sell pots of shrimps; the pots seem to sit out in the sun all day so I decided that much as I love shrimps I’d give them a miss!

Having crossed the bridge you will find yourself in the port area of Karaköy. From here roads climb up the hill toward Beyoğlu. Quicker and easier than slogging all that way up by foot to to take the Tűnel. This is a one stop funicular underground line with its lower entrance just left off Karaköy Caddesi on Tersane Cadessi. The fare is 1TL. Give your money to the cashier and they will provide a jeton to get through the barriers. The train is modern, though there never seemed to be quite enough seats whenever I used it. It heads off steeply; even the platform at the upper station is slanted. This leads out into Tűnel Meydani, the pretty square that anchors the southern end of Istiklal Caddesi. The Tűnel runs from 8am to 9pm every day.

Rather than pay money to travel back down the slope I decided to walk. This is something I highly recommend. The precipitous pathway leads through a charming area of bars and music stores. Window displays showcase everything you would need to start your own rock band. The vibe is very chilled out, with less of the posing you might find on Istiklal. The chief attraction is the Galata Tower, a tall cylindrical tower built by the Genoese in 1349 that is still the most eye-catching structure on the Istanbul skyline. The views from the walkway just below its conical roof are said to be the best in Istanbul. Naturally there is a price to pay.

Crossing back across the Golden Horn and emerging into crowds of headscarves and hustlers, tourists and touts, submerges you once again into the wonders of the ancient orient. But the time spent in the vibrant and cosmopolitan areas around Istiklal Caddesi should leave a lasting impression of Istanbul as a modern and European city.

If I would recommend that the Topkapi Palace is the one sight to see in Istanbul, I would have to say that the one activity to do would be to get out on the water and take a boat ride up the Bosphorus.

Istanbul is built on the water. Sultanahmet is enclosed on three sides by the sea (clockwise, the Golden Horn, the Bosphorus, and the Sea of Marmara). Ritzy suburbs straggle north along the strait, and almost half the city is located on the eastern (Asian) shore. The seas protected Constantinople from the Ottomans, brought wealth and luxuries to its palaces and caravanserais, were the object of military grabs by the Russians in the 1870s and the Allies in the First World War, and even today the Bosphorus is designated as an international shipping lane, running through the heart of Turkey’s largest city. One cannot know Istanbul without knowing the waters that are part of it.

There are several ways to get out on the water. Regular ferries connect Eminönü in the west to Üsküdar and Kadiköy on the eastern shore. You can take trips out to the peaceful Princes Islands south of the city. Or you can take a tour up the 19 mile Bosphorus to the Black Sea. It was this latter option that interested my friends and me.

Public ferries run up the Bosphorus from the terminals at Eminönü, north of Sirkeci and east of the Galata Bridge. These bunny hop from township to township up the length of the strait to Anadolu Kavaği, taking 90 minutes. The downside is this: they are scheduled services primarily for inhabitants of the metropolitan area, and hence do not allow you to travel to the end and then return straight away. The 13:35 ferry north for instance, gets you to the end of the line at 15:05; however the ferry south leaves Anadolu Kavaği at 15:00, leaving you stranded in a town that – other than a small ruined castle, views over the Black Sea, and some fish restaurants - does not seem to have that much to offer from comments on IgoUgo, write-ups in guide books, or word of mouth in Istanbul.

What our group decided to do instead was try to catch the eye of a charter boat captain. There were nine of us. The hope was that we could strike a bargain to have our own personal cruise. And it worked. We were approached by a man who could have been the very image of a salty sea dog – white shirt, yachting cap, and salt-and-pepper moustache. After a bit of haggling we dropped his asking price to 20TL per person. We had previously decided amongst us that we would be happy with that fare. And it meant that the nine of us got a boat to ourselves. Rather than 90 minutes up to the Black Sea and back though, we would be travelling half-way, up to the second bridge (the Fatih Sultan Mehmet bridge), and then turn back.

The waters of the Golden Horn are always thick with boats – ferries, cruise boats, smaller fishing vessels. It is a miracle that they manage not to hit each other, particularly whilst shooting the gap under the Galata Bridge. The Bosphorus itself is a major international shipping lane, and cargo ships, massive cruiseliners, and military destroyers chug through – our little boat felt dwarfed beneath their towering hulls. We did have one power though – if we waved at the tourists lining the rails of the cruisers we inevitably received waves back.

The heart of Istanbul looks like a tale of two cities from the water. To the south the low ridge of ‘old’ Istanbul is spiked with minarets, mosque domes, and glimpses of the Topkapi Palace peeking between trees. To the north the tower blocks of Galata and Taksim soar overhead. Below them on the west bank there a procession of interesting sights. A long low metallic warehouse houses the Istanbul Modern Art Gallery in Tophane. Playing peek-a-boo with the buildings on the water’s edge you can then see the Inönü Stadium, home of Beşiktaş, one of Istanbul’s three football teams (and a good source for local conversations; during my stay Beşiktaş were drawn against Manchester United, my team, in the group stages of the 2009-10 Champion’s League). And immediately beyond the stadium you find the Dolmabahçe Palace.

The Dolmabahçe Palace is a curlicued rococo edifice, a veritable Versailles-on-Sea. While it might have looked fine situated in the Loire valley it just looks very conspicuously out of place in Istanbul. As part of their attempts to modernise / Westernise in the mid-19th century the sultans decamped here from Topkapi (taking their harem with them). Appropriately enough, it was in this palace that the great moderniser of Turkey, Atatürk, died in 1938. Doesn’t mean it’s pretty though!

In Ortaköy the distinctive Mecidiye Mosque, its twin minarets in line with the massive stanchions of the kilometre long Bosphorus Bridge, the first bridge to ever span the straits when it was completed in the 1970s.

Beyond here the urban sprawl dies out somewhat, to be replaced by the monied water-front suburbs of Arnavutköy and Bebek. These are stunning places, with chic pastel-hued yalis fronted by a glorious Riviera-esque promenade. Wooded slopes climb to the rear, and powerboats and gülets, sails furled, bob in the water. The surroundings are not Middle Eastern – they’re not even particularly Mediterranean. Some people compared it to San Tropez; I though with its cool breezes, its waterfront activity, its pine trees, it reminded me of Helsinki more than anywhere else! Except I’m not sure Helsinki has quite so many designer bars and clubs alongside (and in one case floating out in) the sea. The places look an ideal place for a carefree wander with an ice cream if you have more free time in Istanbul. In fact Chris and Julia took a bus up to Bebek on their last afternoon to do just that.

The second (and last) Bosphorus bridge, the Fatih Sultan Mehmet bridge, was the cue for our pilot to turn the boat around. Its ends are – entirely coincidentally – anchored by two massive 14th/15th century castles. The more impressive is the later Rumeli Hisari or ‘Fortress of Europe’, its massive grey walls still standing strong though now harbouring trees rather than warriors. On the other bank is the smaller Anadolu Hisari or Fortress of Asia.

The eastern bank is generally less interesting, though there are several palaces on the waterfront. Really, the most interesting sight is one that you don’t really go near, the tiny Maiden’s Tower on an islet just off Üsküdar. What surprised me was how close to the shore it was – all the images I had seen of it previously (for instance in the Bond movie The World Is Not Enough) made it seem to be isolated out at sea. Not so.

I would really have to recommend a trip (any trip) out on the water to complete your exploration of Istanbul. In fact, I would actually argue that it is one of the very first things you should make time for. Zipping over the cool water, seeing the city unfurl itself around you, not only gives you an entire different perspective on the city, but is also very relaxing. I’m well aware that hiring a private vessel may be out of the budgets of most – it was only because there were nine of us that made it economical (it cost 180TL in total for us, but you may be able to haggle the price down further). However I think all of us on that boat agreed that it was one of the top highlights of our stay in Istanbul, a city that is not exactly short of highlights.