Category Archives: Photography

Day 5 – A Bazaar encounter among the mosques

Tuesday 12 May 2026 – Once again, Mostafa picked us up at our usual spot round the corner and down the hill from the hotel. I grabbed the front seat in the bus in the hope to get some shots out of the windscreen as we went along, and I was delighted when he headed off to downtown Istanbul through the Aqueduct of Valens, which I’ve written about earlier, but which we hadn’t really got a decent photo of. So Jane grabbed a shot out of the side window, which gives a great idea of the scale of the thing,

and I grabbed a shot as we went towards it.

It’s a magnificent construction, originally bringing water to the city from over 250km away.

The object of our first visit was also a magnificent construction – the Süleymaniye Mosque, one of the large, Imperial mosques which dominate the skyline of the city. The mosque was commissioned by Suleiman the Magnificent and designed by the imperial architect Mimar Sinan, who was the chief Ottoman architect, engineer and mathematician for sultans Suleiman the Magnificent, Selim II and Murad III.

We had a short walk towards the mosque, and passed dwellings with some very attractive balconies, typical of that part of the city.

Suleiman was the longest-reigning sultan, being in charge from 1520 – 1566. His rule brought about a notable peak in the Ottoman Empire’s economic, military and political power, and raised the number of the empire’s subjects to at least 25 million people, mainly by acquisition – Belgrade, Rhodes, bits of the Hungarian Empire, Iraq and Tripoli, though he was apparently fought to a standstill at Vienna. He was clearly a remarkable man and a strong ruler, and he didn’t bugger about when commissioning the mosque that bears his name. The largest Ottoman-era mosque in the city, it’s one of the best-known sights of Istanbul and is considered a masterpiece of Ottoman architecture and one of Mimar Sinan’s greatest works.

It’s on the city’s third hill (Istanbul followed the examples of Rome and Sheffield by being built on seven hills) and has commanding views over the Golden Horn.

You can see the kitchen chimneys in the foreground that show the mosque is, unsurprisingly, the centre of a külliye. Before we went in to the mosque, Seçkin showed us the cemetery outside.

Some of the gravestones have hats, and some don’t – respectively the men’s and women’s. I could feel Jane’s “harrumph” from several metres away, where I was photographing the reason for the profusion of gravestones there;

Suleiman’s tomb. He is buried in there, and people were anxious to be buried as close as possible to the great man, hence the crowding. Outside the entrance are the ablution stations where ritual ablutions are performed which are part of the devotional process of worship in Islam

and the entrance takes you through to a large courtyard.

The interior is, unsurprisingly, a large space. Photographically, I have to say, I found it a bit of an anticlimax. This is entirely unreasonable of me – it’s intended as a space for worship, not photography; but I couldn’t help but compare it to other (effectively) imperial mosques I have been to elsewhere – Oman and, particularly, Abu Dhabi. In its defence, this mosque predates both of those mosques – and photography itself – by some centuries, so my expectations were maybe a bit high.

But it was difficult to photograph the interior – there were too many things in the way all the time. So I have photos of bits of the interior, including some fetching stained glass, but no stills that convey the size and atmosphere of the place.

I spotted a cat making its way around, and so this will go into our “cats of Istanbul” collection.

There was also this going on.

This was a singing, or chanting, competition. Candidates were being assessed on the elegance of their diction and accuracy of their singing as they went through nine Qu’ranic chants.

This gave a very atmospheric background to a video I took in an attempt to convey the size and grandeur of the interior.

It also gave rise to a lovely comedy moment as Jim tried to explain stuff about the mosque to our group.

 

After our visit to this grand mosque, our next stop was a visit to Istanbul’s Grand Bazaar, which is a short walk away, and is approached through streets which get ever more crowded with stalls as you approach; I suppose the stallholders are vying to get business by being close to the Grand Bazaar itself.

The Bazaar is one of the largest and oldest covered markets in the world, with 61 covered streets and over 4,000 shops in a total area of 30,700m².  It’s often regarded as one of the first shopping malls of the world and gets hundreds of thousands of visitors every day. One thing that Seçkin was keen to point out is that although many, many tourists visit it, it’s emphatically not a tourist trap – it’s a huge retail space and the locals go their to do their shopping as well as tourists.

Here’s how huge and complicated it is. It’s not a ragtag assembly of market stalls; it’s a large, roofed-over space

consisting of several streets.

It’s quite an extraordinary thing, with over 20 entrances.  We went in through one, which had the obligatory and peremptory security scanner

and navigated as a group through various of the streets. We had to stick together, as it would have been utter chaos had we got split up. Some of the streets are quite wide,

some less so

and some are, well, a little cramped.

The variety of goods on offer is bewildering.

The Grand Bazaar was at one stage surrounded by hans, workshops or caravanserais, where merchants congregated and worked on goods to be sold in the bazaar. Seçkin took us to one small one, Zincirli Han, where there are still some active workshops.

We exited the Bazaar and Seçkin led us towards lunch via another Han, the Büyük Valide Han, or Queen Mother’s Han.

It wasn’t frankly, much to look at.

Its significance is, I think, mainly historical, since it was once inhabited by rich Iranian merchants, but it’s somewhat dilapidated now. Our next stop was lunch, which was at a restaurant called Hamdi, which was posh, and gave us a great view over the Golden Horn

but, although the food was delicious and the service expert, the portions were stingy compared to the lavish generosity of all the other restaurants we visited during our week here.

Lunch over, it was time to visit another mosque, the Rüstem Pasha Mosque. Named after Rüstem Pasha, who served as Grand Vizier of the Ottoman Empire under Sultan Suleiman I, it was, like the Suleimaniye Mosque, designed by the Ottoman imperial architect Mimar Sinan and completed in around 1563. It’s not a large mosque, but its interior is striking. Again, it’s difficult to capture it in stills

so perhaps a video might give a better idea.

Virtually every surface is covered in beautiful Iznik tiles. I have lots of photos of different patterns, but this is a good example of the colour and intricacy of the designs.

Our final port of call for the day was probably Istanbul’s most famous building and certainly one of its largest – the Hagia Sophia Grand Mosque. Its bulk and significance means that it promises to be the highlight of any visit to the city. The current structure was the third church to be erected on the site, completed in AD 537, immediately becoming the world’s largest interior space. It is considered the epitome of Byzantine architecture and is said to have changed the history of architecture. After the fall of Constantinople in 1453, it became a mosque, having its minarets added soon after. The site became a museum in 1935, and was redesignated as a mosque in 2020. As I said, it promises to be the highlight of any visit to Istanbul.

Sadly, it fails to deliver on that promise at the moment.  We had seen from a distance that it was covered in scaffolding, and our guides had told us that we would only be able to visit the galleries, not the main space. It would have been good had our preparatory material for the tour explained that to set our expectations. It’s very obviously the subject of a major renovation project

and the interior is all full of scaffolding, which is why only the galleries are publicly accessible (although there were a few people wandering around in the main space, which puzzles us).

The scaffolding and protective sheeting over the main part of the building means that only glimpses are possible of the interior.

For those dedicated to seeking out specific items, there are a few mosaics to be seen.

and there’s considerable evidence of what an awe-inspiring place it must have been in its prime.

For a dedicated scholar, it’s probably still a rewarding place to visit. For a generalist photographer like myself, frankly, not so much.  It’ll be lovely when it’s finished.

Outside, on a hoarding, is an image of what it is supposed to look like.

I doubt the restoration/renovation will be completed in my lifetime, sadly.

This was a somewhat downbeat end to the day. We had, of course, seen some very impressive and beautiful sights; and the morrow – our final day of trooping around looking at things – promised more.

 

Day 4 – Cruising the Bosporus

Monday May 11 2026 – In order not to bore you with photographic nerdery when I should be rhapsodising about the marvels of Byzantine and Ottoman Constantinople, I have shunted a description of my early morning photo project into a separate post. Outside that, we had a usual sort of start – breakfast, gather in the lobby, walk round the corner and down the road to wait for Mostafa to bring the bus for us.

Actually, the day’s geographical remit extended beyond the bounds of Constantinople, which until 1453 consisted of just the pensinsula south of the Golden Horn inlet plus the posh Galata area where our hotel was.

(Incidentally, you can see, running up the left hand side on this map, the Theodosian Land Walls which for so long were a key bulwark against successful incursions, and the outline of the Yedikule Fortress within them at bottom left.)

We started the day with a two-hour cruise of the Bosporus. Well, strictly speaking, we started the day with poor old Mostafa having to battle the grind of the Istanbul traffic. I was expecting to catch some kind of a tourist cruise boat from the waterfront by the Galata Bridge, but Mostafa headed north-west along the coast, and dropped us off at the waterfront of the Kabataş neighbourhood.

Along the way, Seçkin told us about a change of plan; the original schedule had us visiting the city’s Naval Museum today, but today was not a day when it is open. One would have thought that someone could have checked that out as part of setting out the original itinerary for the week, but this obviously hadn’t been done.  This was one of the various things we noted during the week that gave us the impression that Seçkin and Jim were rather making things up as they went along. There’s no doubt that they both know their respective areas well (Ottoman and Byzantine history respectively), but it seemed that Jim, particularly, was often surprised by things that we saw, rather than planning to explain them to us. It didn’t particularly detract from the quality of what we saw, but it gave the week a slightly ragged air at times.

Anyhoo….having arrived at the quay, we boarded not a general tourist ferry but our very own private boat.

Our cruise then took us back down towards the centre of Istanbul before heading up the Bosporus.

This was a journey of very nearly 30km – and at its end we were still within the Istanbul city limits.  It’s quite jaw-dropping to see how far Istanbul has spread over the years. Here’s the Google maps illustration – everything in the red dotted line is Istanbul.

And here is our cruise route within that context.

The first landmarks we saw from the boat were, therefore, familiar.

Hagia Sophia

Topkapı Palace

Topkapı Palace again

Suleymaniye Mosque

Yeni (“New”) Mosque

As we departed for less familiar areas of the city heading north along the Bosporus, Seçkin gave us a running commentary of what we were looking at.

He told us an odd-sounding nugget – that “Bosporus” translates as “Oxford”. I think it might be stretching things a little far in the interests of a good story, but I have found one website that agrees, sort of. According to studycountry.com, “The name of the strait comes from the Ancient Greek Βόσπορος (Bósporos), which was folk-etymologised as βοὸς πόρος, i.e. “cattle strait” (or “Ox-ford”), from the genitive of boûs βοῦς ‘ox, cattle’ + poros πόρος ‘passage’, thus meaning ‘cattle-passage’, or ‘cow passage’.” Make of that what you will. It’s worth what you paid for it.

We passed a construction called the Maiden’s Tower, which is just off the shores of the Anatolian side of the city.

This has a Byzantine (as in “complicated”) history. Originally on the site was a wooden tower, the site of a customs station for traffic to and from the Black Sea. At one stage the tower held a Byzantine (as in “Eastern Roman Empire”) garrison and was subsequently used as a watch tower during the Ottoman period. It has variously been destroyed in earthquakes, burnt down, rebuilt, used as a lighthouse, rebuilt in stone and used during a James Bond film, “The World Is Not Enough”. There are various stories about how it got its name. According to one of them, an oracle prophesied that the emperor’s much beloved daughter would be killed by a venomous snake on her eighteenth birthday. To protect her, the emperor had the tower built in the Bosphorus and had her locked up there to keep her away from snakes (at least, that was his story). Her only regular visitor was her father. On her eighteenth birthday, the emperor brought her a basket of exotic fruits as a gift, delighted that he had been able to thwart the prophecy. However, an asp that had been hiding among the fruit bit the princess who died in her father’s arms, just as the oracle had predicted – hence the name Maiden’s Tower.

Our route took us back past our original boarding point, which was near the Dolmabahçe Palace, a very grand and expansive piece of real estate.

This was commissioned by the empire’s 31st sultan, Abdülmecid I, and built between 1843 and 1853. Previously, the sultan and his family had lived at the Topkapı Palace, but Abdülmecid decided to build a modern palace near the site of a former palace, Beşiktaş Sahil Palace, which would (a) offer more style and comfort than the medieval Topkapı, and (b) would compete better with the palaces of other European monarchs.  It looks very stylish from the water

but as you move away from it, you can see that much of that style is basically a façade, and it’s quite plain behind it.

Just south of it is a substantial mosque, the Dolmabahçe Mosque.

It’s known as the “Queen Mother’s Mosque”, as it was commissioned by Queen Mother* Bezmialem Valide Sultan, the mother of Sultan Abdülmecid, in 1855, allegedly to save her from the tedious journey into town for a Mosque visit. She didn’t live to see its completion. After his mother’s death, the Sultan saw the building work through to completion. An unusual feature of it is the large windows in the southern face, which allow light to flood in during the day. Unlike other large mosques, it’s just this mosque, you know? Others we have seen, such as the Suleimaniye and Yeni Mosques pictured above, are also the focus of a külliye, a complex of buildings centred on a mosque and including a madrasa (school), a clinic, kitchens, bakery and hammam (Turkish baths) among other services for the community.

The journey up the Bosporus took us past many fancy palaces and ritzy neighbourhoods. Some of the palaces have been repurposed, such as this one, which is now a Four Seasons hotel.

Emine Valide Pasha Mansion, currently the Egyptian Consulate

The Sait Halim Pasha Mansion, now a luxury events venue

The Huber Mansion, now the official residence of the President of Turkey.

Some of the neighbourhoods looked very fancy, too.

The places we saw on the banks of the Bosporus reeked of wealth, either present or past (some of the palaces looked disused and run down). They were places for rich people to spend time during the summer months; during the winter, I should think the area is pretty unrewarding to live in because of a strong prevailing northerly wind and potentially freezing temperatures.

Not everything is a palace. Reflecting the strategic military significance of Bosporus locations, on the Anatolia side is the Kuleli Military High School,

and on the European side is the Rumeli Fortress.

This was built between 1451 and 1452 on the orders of Sultan Mehmed II in preparation for his (ultimately successful) planned siege on Constantinople, to choke off any logistical support that might come to the aid of the city via the Black Sea, and was a key part of the 1453 Ottoman conquest. It had a counterpart on the Anatolian side, Anadoluhisari, but it was difficult to pick this out so management apologises for the lack of a photo of it here.

The captain and crew had looked after everyone very nicely,

but eventually we had reached our destination, in the Büyükdere neighbourhood of the Sarıyer district at the northern reaches of Istanbul and so had to disembark. Our objective was to visit a museum, the Sadberk Hanım Museum.  This was a bit of a walk along from the quay, into the teeth of your typical Bosporus northerly.

The museum is a private museum – Türkiye’s first – housed in a palatial building, Azeryan Yalisi, and its original intention was to display the private collection of Sadberk Koç, an avid collector and the wife of Vehbi Koç, the founder of Koç Holding, a private operation consisting of over 100 companies covering banking, energy and consumer durables. It’s Türkiye’s largest company, contributing some 7% of the country’s exports, so its albeit indirect philanthropy is very pleasing. The initial collection was some 3,500 pieces but has expanded to over 20,000 today.

The museum is divided into two main sections: an Archaeological Collection; and Ethnographic and Islamic Artifacts. We trooped in to explore it, through the security scanner gates which we saw everywhere in Istanbul and which seemed universally to be staffed by security folk who did an exceedingly peremptory job. I should think that everyone who walked through the scanner set off a warning beep, but since we’d all put cameras, phones, etc, on a table to one side of the arch before we walked through, that seemed to satisfy the requirements.

We were given nearly an hour to wander the exhibits, which initially I found rather a gloomy prospect since, being simply a private house albeit a lavish one, there was no café in which to take refuge. However, there were enough exhibits to engage even me. What helped was how well they were exhibited and lit, which meant they lent themselves well to being photographed.

From one of the exhibits, I learned some background about the history of glassmaking which I hadn’t really appreciated before.

The above were in the Archaeological section. On the other side were the Ethnographic and Islamic Artifacts.

Amazingly, I could have spent more time than was allowed to us without getting bored. But it was time to go for lunch, which was another short walk away, in a restaurant called Dolphin Balik. We trooped up to a terrace which gave us a lovely view over the harbour

and were treated to a delicious lunch which featured too many starters and some excellent grilled fish. The food we’d had on our various visits around Istanbul was very good. I have only one (small) grouch, which is that, like rural Italy, not enough of these restaurants stock gin; but the local beer is a reasonable substitute. We had a comedy moment when a piece of the roof fell on me

but otherwise the meal passed off without untoward incident.

Our journey back to downtown Istanbul was by bus, and we were dropped off near the Yeni (“New”) Mosque near the Galata Bridge in downtown Istanbul.

“New”, here, could do with a little expansion, since it was actually completed in 1665 after half a century of wrangling between various Sultans’ wives and mothers. The reason we were here was to visit part of the mosque’s külliye – a market which survives today in the form of the Spice Bazaar, one of the city’s largest markets.  Actually referred to be the locals as the Egyptian Bazaar, this is a building which pretty much does what it says on the tin. There are many, many stores, and many of them sell spices.

There are other things on sale as well, of course. The whole place is a riot of colour and seductive scents.

We did actually buy some Turkish Delight – not the ghastly stuff you get in the UK, but proper Turkish delight, in a variety of flavours with dates, mango, hazelnuts, cream, pistachio, all sorts of things. Then we decided that we could walk back to the hotel rather than wait for the bus. As we walked back, across squares and through underpasses, there was evidence of the considerable entrepreneurial vigour of the locals. As well as mobile stalls

anywhere that could sustain retail outlets was mercilessly exploited. This was an underpass which got us from one side of the Galata Bridge to the other, for example.

The bridge itself is on two levels. The upper level takes trams, traffic and pedestrians across the bridge (which is a bascule bridge, by the way, as is Tower Bridge in London). The lower level sort of clings to the upper level and is, you guessed it, shops and eateries. There seems to be a perpetual forest of fishermen’s rods protruding from the top level,

and there are even some fisherwomen among the mainly male anglers.

From our walk we got a good view of the Galata Tower

and of Hagia Sophia, under its scaffolding and cranes.

That was it for the day. Having eaten so well during the day we forewent dinner and spent the evening once again relaxing and trying to absorb the events of the day into some kind of framework which would enable us to understand the historical sweep of what is a remarkable city.

The morrow promised much, including a visit to the famed Hagia Sophia and other major religious locations. I hope you’ll join the next post to find out how it all went.

 

 

*  Unlike in the UK, being “Queen Mother” in Ottoman times was really not a straightforward matter. It could involve conniving, conspiracy, treachery and all sorts of political manoeuvring, as we would find out later on in the week. Stay tuned for a subsequent post to Read All About It!

Taking steps to get a photograph

On a recent trip to Istanbul, among the group I was touring with was a lady called Penelope. I got chatting to her on the evening of our arrival, as part of the “getting to know the group” that tends to be the precursor to the first dinner of the tour. She mentioned that just down the road from the hotel was a set of steps that were very attractive in a sort of Art Nouveau kind of a way, and that they were well-known because of a particular photograph by the doyen of “the decisive moment” photographers, Henri Cartier-Bresson. Since my principal interest for the Istanbul visit was to get photos of a place I’d effectively never visited before (business trip some 20 years ago), I of course decided that I would like to take a look at these steps and try to get a decent photo of them.

I subsequently discovered, by the way, that Penelope was a real photographer, interested in capturing that moment, hence, I suppose, her specific knowledge of the Cartier-Bresson oeuvre. I would never claim to be a Proper Photographer – I’m more of a chap who walks around with a Big Camera and occasionally a Big Lens – but even I had heard of him, so I looked up the image in question, and here it is, taken in 1964.

One late afternoon, on returning from one of the days out that were part of the Istanbul trip I was on, I decided to pop up the road and take a look at the steps to see what the steps looked like and whether it might be fun to recreate something like the Cartier-Bresson image.

Hah!

It was clear that I would have to get out at a non-peak hour to try to get a clear shot at what was obviously a very photogenic set of steps. So early(ish) the next morning, I went along the road again and assessed the situation.  Here’s the unvarnished situation.

The next thing to do was to try to recreate the Cartier-Bresson viewpoint. This was not too difficult.

Clearly, the passage of 62 years since the original image meant that some details had changed, but that’s not too much of a surprise. Tweaking of light levels was necessary, as well as converting to monochrome (with just a hint of sepia in it).

I hadn’t got access to four people to place on the steps, but I am pretty happy with the recreation of the look-and-feel of the Cartier-Bresson original.

However.

I love symmetry in my architectural photos, so my preferred view of this very beautiful staircase is from this viewpoint.

A couple of annoying bits of modern street furniture are in the way, and the easiest way to get rid of them is to reframe the shot.

I have cheated a bit here, and digitally removed some greenery from bottom right of the image. But Cartier-Bresson’s capture shows that the scene is better viewed in monochrome, so once again I’ve removed the colour, lightened the shadows a fraction and added a tiny touch of sepia, and this is the result.

 

There are various elements that it would be nice to get rid of – the QR code, the posters on the right and the plaque on the upper central section; but making it monochrome has lessened their impact and so overall I’m reasonably pleased with the result; worth getting up slightly earlier for, I think.  It’s rather more pleasing than what normally happens when I get the idea for a photo project, which is that it turns out to be a rubbish idea; and I’ve got what I consider a reasonable result from it, and I’m glad to have seen the stairs without them being festooned with people.