We decided to visit the Hagia Sophia museum today. We went
without a guide—in part because we’re on a budget and in part because we
wouldn’t have known what language to ask for a guide in. English? German?
Russian? Ra vitsit? I will come back
someday and take a tour with a guide, but for now it was lovely just to be
there. I should say that the guards were barely guards. It was a bit shocking
to pay 20 lira to enter and then find that there were cats, pigeons, flash
photographers, screaming children…everything one doesn’t want in a “museum”/
“church”/ “mosque”…and then there were very few signs to guide tourists around
the huge beautiful building. We followed tours and eavesdropped, but what a
poor excuse for a museum! Hagia Sophia is obviously historic and important…so
put up signs and kick out the cats or else call it a gorgeous landmark instead
of a museum.
The building was beautiful. In the very front was a “Madonna
with Child” mosaic, and on the top floor were several beautiful golden mosaics.
At least, I’m pretty sure they were mosaics. Maybe they were frescoes; I
couldn’t get close enough to tell. We heard one of the guides explain that many
more of the walls and ceilings have similar decorations, but the mosaics were
covered with plaster as part of an old conservation effort and they have yet to
be uncovered.
From Hagia Sophia, we decided to go to the Blue Mosque. This
was interesting. First, there were no tour brochures in English. It wasn’t a
problem; I took one in German and Eka took one in Russian. This was strange
though: the only brochure in English was about understanding Islam and learning
to respect it. Coincidence?
When visiting mosques, one must not wear shoes. Ar sheidzleba. I’m ok walking around in
my socks, but Georgians tend to be rather particular about their feet. As in,
they seem to have a national phobia of being barefoot or even walking around in
socks. So Eka took slippers from the hotel and wore them into the mosque.
I was again a bit shocked: how many tourists were walking
around in the center—where we were asked not to go out of respect for the
people trying to pray—and taking pictures of the praying people! How
disrespectful! The building was stunning. Eka and I just stood there, staring
at the ceiling in awe. This was her first time inside a mosque, and she was
very touched to see the small room in which a group of women were studying
together. I have been in a mosque before, but it was very different. In Berlin,
we went into a mosque with one of my classes. That mosque was small, plain, and
somewhat hidden in the back of a courtyard. In Istanbul, the mosques are huge
and ornate. This particular one is absolutely huge, and it’s famous for its
decorative tiles and arabesque-covered ceiling. It was breath-taking.
The muezzins in Istanbul (or the recordings of the muezzins’
prayer calls) are not quite in sync. This means that whenever the call to
prayer rings out across the city, each mosque starts at a slightly different
moment. The result is something like a round. Most people don’t stop what
they’re doing to pray, but we did notice that shopkeepers would turn off their
radios. And a few shopkeepers did close their doors and kneel down to pray
right next to their windows.
Later, we went shopping (I’m noticing a pattern) and then we
returned to the hotel. Thanks to our Wi-Fi, we watched “Maid in Manhattan” and
Eka was rather pleased. Kargi gogo var.
Dzalian. I’m doing a pretty decent job seeing what I want in Istanbul,
keeping my host-mother happy, and ignoring her comments about how the Turkish
language makes the already unattractive people sound like turkeys. Anyone want
to teach me how to teach cultural tolerance? Please?
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