Istanbul

May 12–14, 2008

The last time I was here was about 20 years ago—during a stop our ship, the Soviet Adzharia, made here on the way from Odessa to Athens.

We had only three hours to see the city then, and devoted them to visiting the Hagia Sophia.

The old lady’s still standing.

Around the back, hidden from tourists’ eyes, museum employees are washing a car.

For some reason, as a child I remember seeing incongruous-looking shields with quotes from the Koran on a hideous green background. Turns out, I must have been imagining things. The shields may not be the most elegant in the world, but their color is quite appropriate. The center of the church is occupied by scaffolding almost as monumental as the building itself.

The city is very pleasant and very diverse. Satellite dishes hang from all the buildings like tree mushrooms.

The old neighborhoods are a pure joy to roam through.

The city’s main distinctive detail is the bars on ground-floor windows.

They’re everywhere.

A common scene: a person talking to someone in their semi-basement through the bars. Can’t be bothered to come outside.

The bars are great for letting your kids get some air, too.

Many houses have pieces of paper like this on them—these are repair work notifications (I have yet to find out exactly what the numbers mean).

Some of the signs are quite easy to understand.

APPAЯTMЄNT TO LET ҒOЯ GIЯLŞ

Sometimes even too easy.

House of Fabrics

Of course, when you come across a shop that manufactures street signs, it’s impossible to leave empty-handed.

An Istanbul hydrant.

A municipal trash can (just like the ones in Paris).

A typical watchman or guard’s booth—plastic and modular.

The Turks aren’t afraid of hard work (perhaps that’s why there are so many Turkish construction workers). There are people with carts all over the place.

And here’s a unique character—a carnival barker with a portable hand-powered carousel. He’s making his way to the park, where he’ll be giving rides to children.

The attentive reader may have already noticed that Istanbul plasters its city emblem onto absolutely everything that can be plastered. Even traffic lights.

At the top is a sign warning about the presence of a traffic camera. The sign in the middle bears the emblem.

And here’s the camera we were promised! There’s another emblem where the metal bars cross. And yet another one on the back of the sign.

“One way, I said!” In order to avoid having to make this rude remark, Turks simply install road spikes. If you’re driving the right way, the spikes fold down. If you try to go against the flow, the teeth will puncture your wheels (this system is also very popular in Israel).

There’s no lack of ATMs whatsoever here.

But there’s a complete lack of post boxes. Post offices—sure, but no post boxes. I barely managed to find these special slots in the special doors at the main post office.

There are telephones everywhere, though.

Lots of them.

Different ones.

Old.

And new.

But mostly mobile ones, of course.