this former cathedral is today a museum, but you should also be ready for huge queues. If by this juncture you haven’t already felt the greatness of Istanbul, which carries within it the history of the whole world, the only city lying on two continents, you will nd it in Hagia Sophia, in that wondrous fu- sion of Ottoman, Byzantine, Genovese, Ro- man and ancient Greek architecture.You will see Christian mosaics from the year 1020 and, if you look up, magni cent Islamic ar- abesques and fantastic medallions bearing the names of prophets written in calligra- phy. Just above the medallions, you will see a restored seraphim, with a face that is an amazing sight in itself. We could say that it is magni cent, fascinating, breathtaking, but the greatness of Hagia Sophia can only be evoked by the fact that, as soon as you step inside, everything is silenced and you will feel a need to remain silent. You can declare yourself a believer or an atheist, but Hagia Sophia is awe-inspiring regardless of your religious beliefs. You will be silenced by faith and desire, whatever you think of miracles, place your thumb in the“crying pillar”or the Wishing Column, in the hope that you will extract a moist strawberry. If your thumb is wet, your wish will come true. Given that the column is made of marble and located above groundwater, you might get lucky. In the end, everything is possible in Istanbul. Another interesting element that will sure- ly catch your attention is that there are no stairs in Hagia Sophia, rather you climb a steeply sloping stone corridor to reach the gallery. The reason for this is that the Byz- antine queen insisted on being carried up to the second oor, so a wide, steep corri- dor was built instead of a staircase. After that, you can carry on to Topka- pi Palace and indulge in the recounting of the sultan’s daily struggle to survive on the throne. The huge estate that was reserved for the most in uential people in the em- pire, along with the harem, provides the per- fect backdrop to fantasise about the sultan and his turbulent life. And from there your path leads to the Grand Bazaar… Enchanted by aromas and colourful-
TOPKAPI
Ajran, tradicionalno tursko piće, nešto kao slani jogurt Ayran is a traditional Turkish drink, something like a savoury yoghurt
I was the only customer, which gave me a chance to sample a little of everything that he had in his little co ee shop. That’s how I discovered ayran, a traditional Turk- ish drink that I would describe as a savoury yoghurt. I drank it all, accompanied with strong, bitter co ee, while Rafael watched in wonder, expecting disaster. I returned the next day for the same combination, and the day after that. I might not have impressed the Istanbul traders, but Rafael admitted that I left him speechless. To leave a man speechless who’s from this city of wonders, which is traversed by a million a day and who has been watching it all unfold for decades is no mean feat, don’t you think? I returned from Istanbul with bags full of Turkish delight and perfumes, but also with an addiction to ayran and a load of new avours and aromas. Those were three days lled with wonders, af- ter which I am convinced that Napoleon knew perfectly well what he was saying when he declared Istanbul the capital of the planet.
ness, I traversed the endless labyrinths of the Bazaar, without any idea of where I was going, while saucers emerged in front of me lled with Turkish delight, baklava, various teas and co ee. I was easy prey and I was aware of it. Whatever the situation in the country, back in the times of the tribes, be- fore Islam, bazaars were always safe plac- es that people didn’t enter with weapons. In this place where East collides with West, one thing has always had primacy above all else, and that’s trade. When it comes to trading, where you come from and what your faith is doesn’t matter. It is important that you know how to trade. Although the Grand Bazaar might seem like a ruthless place to you, that’s just an illusion. One of the basic rules of the bazaar is morality, and respect comes before pro t. Still turned o by barter, strolling and a pile of sampled Turkish delight and bak- lava, I dug my way to a small, hidden, tra- ditional co ee shop with real Turkish cof- fee. Inside sat the owner, a gentleman in his later years by the name of Rafael, and
Iz Istanbula sam se vratila sa torbama punim ratluka i parfema, ali i sa zavisnošću od ajrana i sa gomilom novih ukusa i mirisa. Napoleon je znao šta govori... I returned from Istanbul with bags full of Turkish delight and perfumes, but also with an addiction to ayran and a load of new avours and aromas. Napoleon knew perfectly well what he was saying...
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