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Ostrich eggs and spiders

I thought the Golden Horn was a piece of land, not a body of water. I never knew that Istanbul straddled two continents. And I’d never heard that spiders were afraid of ostrich eggs. I learned so much in Turkey this past week. But I still don’t know if the calls to prayer in Istanbul, specifically those from the Blue Mosque and its neighbouring mosques, are live or recorded. They’re remarkably in sync; it seems as if each  is answering the other.

If you could only stop at one place in Istanbul and had no plans to return, the best bang for your buck would be Sultanahmet, home to the Hippodrome and the Blue Mosque and Hagia Sophia.

The Blue Mosque is so called because of the 20 000 or so hand-painted blue tiles decorating its interior. They’re stunning. It differs from other mosques in that it has six minarets instead of the usual four, something that came about apparently because of a misunderstanding between the Sultan and the architect. It is said that when Sultan Ahmet I was only 19 years old, he commissioned the construction of the mosque. Sultan Ahmet I requested for gold (altin) minarets. However, the architect misunderstood the request, and he instead built six (alti) minarets. Sure it could happen to anyone, right? But a little like how Carton House in Kildare had to shore up one of its windows so that it wouldn’t have more than Buckingham Palace (I swear I remember that fact from a school tour…), the Blue Mosque created a bit of a hullabaloo: The six minarets stirred concern among the people, as Mecca’s Harem Mosque also had the same number of minarets. To resolve the issue, the sultan sent his architect to Mecca to construct an additional minaret to the other mosque.

There are about 200 windows and the chandeliers have ostrich eggs perched on them to discourage spiders from spinning cobwebs – a new one on me. It was completed in 1616 (not for the first time I marvelled at what we could do before we were modernised …) and  holds about 10 000 people. On Fridays, the crowds are so big that they spill out in to the courtyard.  At least some religions are still pulling in the numbers.

My friend tried to pass herself off as a muslim and enter through the prayers (as in those who pray not those that are said) door; the visitors door was closed and she had every intention of praying and wasn’t carrying a camera, we figured it was fair enough. I’d already been and at this stage was getting just a tad peeved at the crowds. Anyway, she was spotted and turned away. This makes me wonder – what if she converted… what would she have to do or say to get in then? And is there a ‘look’? Do I look Christian? The mind boggles.

If you’re interested in knowing more about this magnificent place, Tom Brosnahan has written a lovely piece on the Magic of the Blue Mosque.

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Across the way is the Hagia Sophia, or Shrine of the Holy God. It started off life as a cathedral in what was then known as Constantinople. When it was turned in to a mosque, the altar, bells, icons, and other trappings were removed. Today, it’s a museum. It is massive. So big, in fact, that until the Cathedral was built in Seville in 1520, it had reigned as the biggest church in the world for nearly a 1000 years. It finally closed its doors as a mosque in 1935 and reopened some years later as a museum.

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Elsewhere in the same vicinity, you can see the Ayasofya Turkish baths, where one lucky gentleman gets the place to himself:-) Built at the request of the Sultan’s wife in the 1500s, architect Mimar Sinan had this to say: I hope that until the end of days, good hearted friends who take a look at what I have made, when they will perceive the seriousness and the spirit of my effort, can have a fair view and can invoke my name to pray for me. I wonder how many of today’s budding architects design with the same thought in mind?

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Around the corner, at Tavukhane SokagI No:36, the Turkestan Asevi restaurant has a delightfully different frontage that brought to mind a movie set at Universal Studios. Had I checked Trip Advisor (which I never do until after the fact) we’d have skipped it. Am glad we didn’t. The place is charming, the service was grand, and apart from the fact that it’s a totally dry establishment (no booze!)  it was worth a visit.

I never made it inside the Hagia Sophia: next time I’ll visit, along with the old jail which is now the Four Seasons and the myriad other places I’ve discovered since I left. Perhaps I really should start reading up on places before I go, but then I think that might take away some of the joy of discovering what I come across by wandering aimlessly. Anyway, there’s plenty of time to go back and visit again. Istanbul isn’t going anywhere.

But then I think of the wise woman’s warning: the biggest mistake you’ll make is to think you have time. And I think again.

 

 

Grateful 4

Christmas is associated with giving – and unfortunately much of what’s given is unwanted, not needed, and a huge waste of time, effort, and money. Yet the one gift that is most sought after, is also the most difficult to find. Time. Everyone seems to want it and no one seems to have any. It’s all rush, rush, rush, wrap, wrap, wrap. Presents to buy, parties to go to, gifts to give. The mania is well and truly upon us. But we forget, perhaps, that the most meaningful gifts we can give are love, compassion, and  … a hug.

Down at the Topház Speciális Otthon in Göd (a state orphanage) today with a gang of IHBC’s Give a Little campaigners, both time and hugs were in demand. We descended on the place at 10am and then set about entertaining and being entertained. The Lions Club had donated Santa Bags for all the residents and while they danced and sang and recited, we had a tune or two of our own to share.

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It’s impossible to describe what it feels like to have so many hands reaching out to touch you. It’s humbling to know that by simply shaking a hand, or giving a hug, or just letting someone touch your hair, you can make a big difference to their day. The staff are wonderfully caring, supportive, and loving. And to see this in their interaction with the residents is heart-warming. They seem to have endless patience. It takes a very special type of person to be able to do this sort of work, day in, day out. For those like Kristóf, or Norbert, who have visitors maybe once a year, having people like us visit literally makes their day.

In an era when social media is doing its bit to distance us from each other physically and the main experience we have of being tactile is a frighteningly intimate relationship with a smart phone or an iPad, visiting Göd is a sobering reminder of what matters.  As we move closer and closer to Christmas, when thoughts turn to gift-buying and partying, we could do worse than remember that the best gifts we can give are our time and our compassion. We might not be able to wrap a hug, but it’s one gift no one will want to exchange.

As one mad week finishes and another hovers on the horizon, I am grateful for my involvement with the Give a Little campaign, and the orphanage. I certainly get far more than I give.

PS A reminder of what novelist, journalist, and humorist Oren Arnold (1900–1980) had on his suggested gift list:

To your enemy, forgiveness.
To an opponent, tolerance.
To a friend, your heart.
To a customer, service.
To all, charity.
To every child, a good example.
To yourself, respect.

Happy shopping:-)

Note: For a reminder of what the Grateful series is about, check out Grateful 52