I spent the last two days in Istanbul. I’ve been wanting to go ever since I was a little kid. I remember my dad would show me this old art history text book he had from college. It was about Byzantine art, in particular about the mosaics inside chruches spread out over the Balkans and Anatolia. As I remember, most of the book was black and white, but it had a few choice color photos. One was of Hagia Sofia in Istanbul. Of all the churches in the book, my dad talked about Hagia Sofia with particular reverance. It’s over 1500 years old. It’s weathered several earthquakes, been ruled by various empires, and been the seat (or at least a key place of worship) for three different religions. If Istanbul was the center of the ancient world, then Hagia Sofia was the center of Istanbul.

As a result of these childhood history lessons, Istanbul has always occupied a special place in my mind. This weekend I went.

  • I stayed in Kadıköy on the Asian side. I stayed at an Airbnb, and I feel like I had the experience that used to very common on the platform before it turned into this weird pseudo-hotel booking platform; I spent some time with my host! She showed me around the neighborhood, gave me tons of recommendations and even gave me some chocolate cake! I feel super grateful to my host for having me.
  • I saw Hagia Sofia. I was nervous to see it, and when it finally entered my view as I walked from the ferry, I cried a few tears. It really felt like I was realizing this dream that I’ve had since I was a little kid. The structure is astonishing in its scale. Even 1500 years on, it is still visually remarkable. Inside, it is vast and cavernous. My brother called it primitive, and that somehow feels right. It evokes a sense of wonder, but that wonder is not as refined and carefully directed as what I experienced in the 16th century Ottoman mosques. Unfortunately, you can’t go to the ground floor as that’s reserved for Turkish Muslims looking to get their prayer on. This is a real shame; I don’t think you experience the true grandeur of the place from the first floor. Moreover, it feels like a place like this should be open for all to enjoy, as long as they’re willing to respect it. I expected there to be much more Byzantine-era mosaic work inside. A few examples persisted, but most of the walls in the area visitors can access were bare. To see some really cool mosaics and frescos, you have to see Kariye Mosque in Fatih.
  • I sat in five or six different mosques. This was one of the highlights of my time in Istanbul. I’ve never really had the chance to just sit in a mosque. No one seemed to care that I was there, and one old guy even came and chatted me up. It was really peaceful, and I think it served as an environment for me to very intentionally explore my spirituality. I did most of my mosque-sitting on Saturday, the last day of Ramadan. I think this explains why in two or three of the places I hung out a guy was reciting bits from the Quran from memory. If you’ve never had the chance to hear someone reciting the Quran, it can be very beautiful. People generally sort of half-chant, half-sing in a very rhymic fashion. I think they use a little bit of reverb on the sound systems they have installed in these spots, but the effect is quite wonderful. In Büyük Mecidiye Mosque and Atik Valide Mosque in particular, I felt as if guy’s voice was coming from every direction, filling up the space. I was awash in the verses. Focusing on all those lovely Arabic sounds created space in my mind for me to calmly sit with myself. I sat in Büyük Mecidiye Mosque long enough to notice the sunlight changing as midday became early afternoon. I felt the thick carpet against my sore butt and feet. I wonder if God is just the cumulative experiences of everyone who has sat and prayed or experienced awe in places like these. I experienced something diffuse and intangible yet profound as I bounced from mosque to mosque, punctuating each visit with street scenes from bustling Istanbul.
  • I saw a sundial embedded in the wall of a mosque (I think it was Ferruh Kethuda Mosque in Fatih) that had the numbers written in Ottomon Turkish! I felt really proud of myself that I was able to identify the writing as such.
  • I got drunk at a bar with a bunch of strangers. We played some beer pong then went dancing. I wiggled my ass while dancing earnestly to 2010’s American pop bangers (they even put on some LMFAO!). People were dancing hard. It was no holds barred dancing, the likes of which I haven’t seen in a while. We convulsed and shouted the lyrics to songs and jumped up and down and wriggled against each other and laughed and smiled. It was very joyful. I couldn’t help but wonder if people were dancing so hard because they had to. Sometimes dancing is necessary; it allows us to express feelings that are better unleashed on the dancefloor rather than said aloud. Talking to a lot of people, I got the impression that it is not easy to be living in Istanbul right now. Wages aren’t great, prices just keep going up, and the political situation doesn’t leave a lot of space for hope. Inflation is cruel and uncaring.
  • I ate some delicious food and got very buzzed on coffee and tea. Had some solid Turkish coffee, and a really good espresso. One of the food highlights was the kokoreç sandwich I ate after a few beers on Saturday night. The filling was packed with umami goodness and had a bunch of interesting textures while the bread was crunchy-on-the-outside-soft-on-the-inside. I slammed a plate or two of stuffed mussels, which are ubiquitous in the areas I explored. I also had some really delicious and very indulgent menenemen at a little spot near my Airbnb.
  • I listened to the same DJ set five or six times. This was the source of so many moments of little joy this weekend. I’d have a coffee in the afternoon, put this on, and literally bounce around the streets, high on the ecstasy that is discovering something new.
  • I sang along (under my breath) to Natasha Noorani and various Bollywood songs. I felt saudade for moments so nebulous they just appeared as sensations in my body instead of a videoreel in my head.
  • I stared into the abyss, my legs barely functioning while drinking a shitty IPA at a bar called “Berlin”. My fitness watch says I walked ~30.000 steps each day, which is about double what I would do on a good day in Berlin. My legs are toast.