A walk through the bowels of Istanbul

For: Juanra Morales (text and photos)
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Istanbul is a city that I consider my second home. My first "big" trip, only, young, out of money, went to the former Byzantine capital. Head full of history books, postcard where the dome of Aya Sofia stood over the red roofs of the old town, dreams of adventure.

Since then I have returned many times to the "City of the Straits", increasingly large, longest, more crowded with tourists. But the magic of the evening walking to Topkapi Divan Yolu, monitor not being run and mixed with the excitement of the end of day its inhabitants while the muezzin calls to prayer, that can not change.

A city full of surprising places, times almost unknown except for the "bookworms"

A city full of surprising places, times almost unknown except for the "bookworms", neglected and absent from everyday but anywhere else would be cause for celebration or perhaps outdoor museums. Always remember one afternoon I spent in front of the old palace of Tefkur, near the walls. Passing through a hole in the wall brick and quite confusing on cue, Tefkur facade Sarayi, perhaps one of the last residences of the Byzantine royal family, maybe a Commeno or a Pleustes, opened lonely, only with the company of cats, and me. Que un lugar con una historia tan fascinante, with centuries of life and vicissitudes, can go unnoticed, is something that has always fascinated me. But, course, no comparison to the palaces of Sultanahmet ...

A few years ago, another quick visit, furtive, I meet some friends made in those early days. Living in a hostel near the Kucuk Aya Sofia. Another gem, Byzantine church and mosque today, marked by earthquakes but Aun in pie, reordenábamos the world with a tea and a cigar, under the fig trees and doves. And we thought about places to discover under our feet while walking next to a column, through a brick arch that perhaps belonged to the Grand Palace and the Hippodrome.

Life has changed and has led us down very different paths, but those days are still in memory. We met under the vines of the courtyard of the mosque. A tea after another we update these years. And dinner that night were stopped. Al get up I delivered a piece of paper. A cut of an old newspaper about the discovery of a Byzantine Great Palace stays under a carpet shop. He smiles and walks, spreading interest.

We met under the vines of the courtyard of the mosque. A tea after another we update these years

That night we ate very close to the Blue Mosque, in an area where an old covered bazaar, Arasta of the Ottomans, stored all goods from the east to service the Porte, Sultan and Harem. Many of these former have or warehouses are now carpet shops or restaurants, but the area still holds a unique marketing environment in a mercantile city to the core as Istanbul. In one of these restaurants we expected the first surprise.

Anyone who has dined in Istanbul can speak of the bounds, sweet taste raki or reverence for the eggplant and roast the kebab. But at the end of the dinner, next to the toilet the retaurant, single rope and a sign with the words "Great Palace Ruins" invited into what looked like a basement.

This simple restaurant in its basement had a good chunk of what was the complex of buildings and power in the world for nearly 7 ages.

It's funny to think how many times I accidentally, usually quite ridiculous, deposits have been discovered that can be considered today a World Heritage Site. A donkey disappears into a hole where the owner discovers a pharaonic tomb (as the case of Ramses II) or Roman catacombs (Shaffaga Qom in Alexandria). No what happened here, but this simple restaurant in its basement had a good chunk of what was the complex of buildings and power in the world for nearly 7 ages.

Brick vaults were opened in several corridors, with a piece of mosaic spread on the floor of a huge space that we could only peek thanks to isolated pockets. Perhaps some emperor stays, stables or perhaps a store. The imagination could easily fly. Totally baffled, My friend promised me another surprise for the next day, in flying eastwards away from Europe. We were next to a small mosque near the Bosphorus, both fired the imagination.

The musty smell and waste of all kinds is unbearable and move almost blindly in a narrow space

Already in the morning we meet with an old acquaintance, researcher spent today in your city. We enfundamos in overalls and boots with digger walked through a small wooden door, almost rotten, which opens into a brick wall collapsed average. The musty smell and waste of all kinds is unbearable and move almost blindly in a narrow space, increasingly narrow, tearing the walls behind. We follow a seemingly endless time until, with water above the knees, a vacuum black tunnel opens before suddenly widening.

Our partner throws a flare and lights another, partly illuminating the void, an immense half flooded room with vaulted ceiling studded. Some walls can see growths resulting from dampness on what seem very rough inscriptions. We are under the Hippodrome, next to the Palace, and we have traveled a path, formerly adapted to communicate both places or to facilitate the escape from them, who knows.

Several holes disappear at the bottom but I could hardly breathe, so we went back down the same road, mentally circling the twists of history.

Our partner throws a flare and lights another, partly illuminating the void, an immense half flooded room with vaulted ceiling studded

That evening my friend took me to the airport. We left quickly, unceremoniously, as always with us. Barring any email we have not spoken again, but that, As happened to me flying over the Bosphorus path Central Asia, still thinking about that morning and imagining ways under the great Constantinople, imagined city of the Caesars.

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Comments (2)

  • Ann

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    Thanks, Juanra. As always, a treat!
    What I have wanted to go to Istanbul

    Answer

  • Lydia

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    It is always exciting to enjoy interesting places that go unnoticed and more, if you discover by chance.

    Answer

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