It was with great excitement that I, along with four of my senior students, boarded the Lufthansa plane which would carry us to Istanbul. Ah! Istanbul, jewel of the world, beloved city of Holy Roman Emperors and Muslim Caliphs—the very name conjured up exotic images in my mind. Ostensibly, we were going for an International Baccalaureate Conference but, my real reason was to visit the fabled last seat of the Caliphate, capital of the Ottoman Empire for centuries.
Prior to arrival at the airport I had done my research and made a list of sites I must visit, if time permitted. As it would turn out my list was extremely ambitious and I managed to see only a fraction of the places I intended to but I experienced other things which I had not planned for and, besides, for a thirsty man even a small flask of cool water is worth more than everything in the world and what it contains. However, the reality was that I wasn’t really prepared at all for what I would experience over the next four days and nights.

When the plane landed at Ataturk Airport, two-and-a-half-hours later, I was thankful to be on solid ground being a nervous flyer. The first thing which struck me about the airport was how modern, large, efficient and well-organised it was. It could have been an airport in any Western European city. The first pleasant surprise was how easy it was to get through the visa process. As a UK citizen I needed a visa to enter Turkey and was dreading the process, expecting a typical Oriental bureaucratic nightmare (as I was used to in going to Pakistan). The sheer simplicity and speed of the process and the kindness of the customs official made me smile. I was even more pleased when he appeared to be happy that I was ethnically Pakistani.

This was a reoccurring theme throughout my stay in Istanbul: every time people found out I was Pakistani they would smile and say, “Pakistani? Masha Allah!� (On my return I googled this seemingly strange phenomena and discovered that the Turks have a genuine fondness for Pakistanis, seeing us as fellow Muslim brothers and the political relationship between the two nations has always been very strong—a special relationship akin to that between the US and the UK. Other reasons, aside from a shared cultural heritage go back to the monetary aid the Muslims , of then United India, provided to the Ottoman Empire in its dying days as part of the Khilafah Movement. Also, they see us a brother nation surrounded by enemies on all sides just as they themselves are. Needless to say, this fondness is reciprocated.)

My students were collected by their host families and the school hosting the conference provided a bus for myself an d the other teachers which took us to the hotel. It was about a quarter-of-an-hour drive and gave me my first glimpse of Istanbul proper. In all honesty my initial impression was slight disappointment. It was a huge, dusty, sprawling mass of buildings which seemed never ending on both sides of the sparkling blue Bosphorus. In the distance, dotted here and there, I could make out minarets of mosques but they seemed hidden by the housing developments on either side. I was reminded a lot of Pakistan at first. When the bus finally stopped outside our hotel I was ready for my first surprise. Our hotel was in Kadikoy, on the Asian side of the Bosphorus and right on the edge of the turquoise water. It was breathtaking. To the right, a few hundred yards away, was a magnificent stone building which looked like a castle; I would later learn it was HaydarpaÅŸa (pronounced Haydar Pasha) Station. On exploring it later I discovered to have a magnificent interior with beautiful domed ceilings with mosaics. Ferries and boats of varying sizes crossed the blue water and the sun shone in an even bluer sky, reflections of one another. Already the magic of Istanbul was having its effect on me. The streets themselves were choc-a-bloc full of people, the hustle and bustle of daily life, like a Pakistani city but without the dirt and the beggars. As my eyes admired the vibrant scene, and my other senses were simultaneously assaulted, I spotted a beautifully built mosque not far from the hotel with a solitary dome and minaret. I vowed to visit it as soon as possible.

Upon booking in to the hotel I dropped my luggage in my room and went to explore. With my wikitravel notes printed out as my guide, I took the ferry from Kadikoy to Eminonou, to the European side of the city. The ferry was flat and large with comfortable wooden benches covered with leather inside and snacks and tea available inside. The cost? 1.40 Turkish Lira (about 70 euro cents or 50 English pence) for a single journey. I was already enjoying myself. The tea seller with his samovar came round to sell his wares and I was tempted to buy a small glass of Turkish tea (chai) but decided not to at this time. Instead I spent my time –it was only twenty minutes or so journey time—admiring the breathtaking views, out of the ferry’s windows, of Istanbul’s skyline. At this closer distance the Ottoman architecture was starting to stand out from the residential buildings. Heaven only knows how stunning this vista must have been a hundred years prior when the residential brick buildings had been much less and the shorelines on either side had been dotted with magnificent Ottoman villas. Later in the week, as we enjoyed an evening cruise down the entire length of the Bosphorus I would have the modern equivalents of these villas—the residences of today’s social elite—pointed out and become wistful (but I am getting ahead of myself).

If someone was to ask me whether I could pinpoint the exact moment when I fell irrevocably and helplessly in love with this most wonderful of cities, I would say it would have to be the moment when the ferry moored in Eminonou and I alighted to get my first close-up view of this historic part of Istanbul. In front of me, leaving me momentarily speechless, was the architectural wonder that was the New Mosque (Yeni Camii) of Sultan Mehmet the Second (the Conqueror of Constantinople in 1453—they said it was unconquerable! (may Allah perfume his resting place)) with its domes and splendid minarets and Koranic calligraphy. Behind me, the perfectly blue Bosphorus rippled gently and sparkled where the sunlight fell on it. In the hills to the left another beautiful structure announced its presence with its majesty: the mosque-complex of Sultan Suleyman the Magnificent. About a hundred yards in front of me rose the smaller domes and minarets of the mosque of Rustam Pasha. And adjacent to that was the Spice Bazaar. This vista has become burned into my mind, like a pattern etched by laser into a microchip, glorious, timeless. I gave thanks to the Ottomans at that moment and prayed silently for them. To complete the fairytale, at that moment the azaan (call to prayer) rang out across the city in a slowly rippling wave of sound, the slight time-delay between each mosque creating a mesmerising echo effect with caused the walls of my heart to tremble. Allahu Akbar, I muttered, God is Great! I rushed to the mosque courtyard and did the ablutions and then went inside the mosque-proper to join the rows of other faithful in prayer. I had already missed the first cycle (raka’at) and so hurried to join them. After the end of the prayer and the recitation of the Koran, I had a chance to marvel at the intricate interior of this mosque: the domes, the lighting, the stained glass windows, and the beautiful Koranic calligraphy in the Ottoman script and poetic verses in praise of the Messenger of Allah (upon him be the peace and blessings of God). When I had taken some photographs I reluctantly left. An old man began to talk to me as I was putting on my shoes. “Arabi?� he asked. “Pakistani!� I answered. Then I asked him what mosque this was and what the other mosques I could see were. He named them and gave me directions (which I didn’t understand) and then I said salaam to him and left. The Yeni Camii was the most beautiful mosque I had ever seen surpassing even the Mughal wonder of what was Lahore’s Badshahi Mosue built by Shahenshah Muhammad Aurangzeb – the Emperor and Friend of God.

I engaged in some people spotting in the square outside and was amazed by the variety of racial groups I could see in the square outside the Yeni Camii: dusky Mediterraneans, hijab-wearing girls with skin the colour of milk and blue eyes, blonde-haired beauties, dark-haired girls with sharp East European features, slightly round and flat faced Turkic visages, men in business suits, vendors with baggy trousers and simple shirts, clean shaven faces, bearded faces, heads with cotton topis and many others. Outside the mosque I bought one piece of corn-on-the-cob (rather cold and stale!) and began to walk towards the spice market. I threw the remainder of the cob away in the nearest bin (something I didn’t see so much of) and explored the spice market with its relatively narrow winding alleyways. I also found the entrance to the sadly dilapidated exterior of the Rustam Pasha mosque and climbed the winding stone stairway to the beautiful courtyard on the first floor. I spotted a touring Indian couple examining the courtyards. After removing my shoes I explored the interior and sat for a while in the tranquil atmosphere and purchased a hand-woven bookmark.

I then made my way uphill towards, what I hoped, was the Suleymaniye Mosque via the winding back-alleys of this suburb of Istanbul. There was a tranquility in this part of Istanbul away from the more touristy zones. The climb was quite steep and the Ottoman era paths, though paved, were uneven in places; stone stairs were not all of the same height. Other reminders of Ottoman glory in the shape of plaques with Persian poetry marking the resting places of saints and rows of little shops lent themselves to an atmosphere of melancholy and of faded glory. After about half-an-hour of walking uphill I passed one of the most popular tourist attractions: the fabled Turkish baths (hamam) of Sultan Suleyman the Magnificent which is still in use. I took some photos of the entrance and made a mental note to visit it (alas, it was not to be on this trip). I took a left and walked a short distance before being awestruck for the second time this afternoon: here was the magnificent mosque built by The Magnificent. The outer walls of the structure enclosed a huge mosque with many domes, and a giant central dome which rose haughtily into the early evening sky. The mosque was surrounded by a lovely garden and smaller structures to the right. There were many entrances and I took one which brought me close to the area housing the tombs of Sultan Suleyman, his Circassian concubine and favourite wife, Roxelana, and a host of other Ottoman luminaries including the greatest architect of the Islamic world, and arguably of all time, Sinan. I prayed for the Sultan and greeted him, humbled to be in his presence. Afterwards I spent a considerable amount of time visiting individual gravestones and reading Surah Fatiha. Sadly for me the entrance to the Magnificent One’s tomb was closed at this time so I was unable to kiss the grave per se.

After taking a large number of photographs from the front lawn of the mosque my spirit was roused to another high by the sweet sound of the muezzin calling the prayer for Maghrib. I redid my ablutions in the taps outside and entered the Magnificent’s mosque to pray with a handful of others. When this mosque complex had been built Sinan had said, “Oh Emperor I give to you a mosque which shall stand until the Day of Judgement!� It used to house, in addition to this mosque, baths, a library (still extant I believe), a hospital, madrassahs, a dining hall, kitchens, the hamam and a primary school. (The kitchens and dining hall are still extant and have been converted into a restaurant now; I had the pleasure of eating in this historic setting on my last evening in Istanbul.) The interior of this mosque is not as decorated or glamorous as the one I described earlier. Though still beautiful, this interior is more sombre and simple with use of darker colours. It was getting dark outside and the streetlamps and lights within the mosque came on bathing the whole area in a soft light which gave added an almost otherworldly ethereal loveliness. It was like being in another era. Magical. Across from the mosque food shops lined the alley and I sat inside one of them (being the only customer) and ordered supper. The old shopkeeper with his prayer-hat and white beard struck up a conversation with me in very broken English. He asked me if I was a Muslim and I answered in the affirmative. Then he asked if I was Pakistani and I said yes again. He smiled and said ‘masha Allah! Masha Allah!’ At the end when I left after meal of lamb kebabs, a little side salad and yoghurt he told his assistant to not charge me for the drinks since I was a Pakistani. I said my salaams and reluctantly walked back downhill to take the ferry back from Eminonou to my hotel on the Asian side of Istanbul. I couldn’t help taking regular glances back though towards the Suleymaniye which totally dominates all the area around it perched there on a hilltop like a golden eagle. It had supplanted the Yenii Camii as my favourite mosque. The evening was rapidly becoming quite chilly so I hurried to board the ferry. The Suleymaniye remained visible for a long time in the night-glow of Istanbul from the ferry’s windows and I nearly got off at the wrong port due to my being mentally still inside Sinan’s masterpiece. That night, tired by the lengthy walk, I slept soundly.

The next morning, just after dawn, after a rushed breakfast in the hotel’s dining room, I joined the other teachers on a bus which took us to the wealthy private school which was to be the venue of the conference. I will not bore the readers with details of the conference suffice it to say that this was my first encounter with a totally different type of Turk. In contrast to the traditional, conservative Turks I’d met so far in the mosques , these were the other opposite: rich, Europeanised and fiercely secular. Interacting with the students I felt as if I was in my school in Germany. However they were also very friendly and, in common with the other Turks, extremely proud of being Turkish. This patriotism is a theme common to the entire spectrum of Turks whether religious, secular or in-between and it is actually quite endearing. Even amongst the passionately Kemalist ones there is a great deal of pride in their great Ottoman history, a time when they were a superpower, when the mention of the ‘Great Turk’ would send shivers down the spines of people in places as far-off as England. However, these youngsters were—in common with teens everywhere—more interested in partying and having a good time. The location of the conference venue was far from central Istanbul and gave me the chance to look at the rest of the city –a place not mentioned in tourist brochures. It was clean and functional, in a haphazard manner, but lacked the charm of the centre.

We didn’t return back to the hotel until quite close to Maghrib time which allowed me a chance to go and explore both the lovely little mosque close to the hotel (which I mentioned earlier) and pray there. I also walked a bit further to explore the beautiful Haydarpaşa Station and delighted in the scenic walk back to the hotel along the banks of the Bosphorus. The water really is what gives Istanbul its romance. The reason I rushed back was that all teachers and students were booked on a cruise along the Bosphorus with dinner and a boat-party included. This cruise which began in the early evening and lasted through the night was one of the highlights of the entire trip. The food and music was okay—though it was a bit of an eye opener for me (at least with my preconceived ideas of what the East is like!) to see Turkish girls going so wild when the music came on. I could have been in a club in Frankfurt. It was amusing! The real acme of the evening though had to be the breathtaking views of Istanbul at night, as the lights came on, bathing the classical buildings and unmatched skyline in radiance, the moonlight turning the water silvery and making it more lovely (if that was possible), the villas and palaces and mosques and riverside homes of the rich passing by slowly as the ship, with it gentle rocking motion (is there a more pleasant way of travelling than on water?) travelled down the mighty Bosphorus. Actually, there was just too much to take in—if one looked at one bank of the river one missed too much on the other side. Still, as the night went on, the combination of food, music, relaxed conversation, and the magnificent vistas of the wonder that is Istanbul, the rocking sea-saw motion of the ship, the cool wind whipped by the waves, all made this an unforgettable voyage. It is definitely the ultimate way for enjoying the delights and sights of Istanbul and highly recommended. When the ship eventually made its way back to the original quay and moored it was with a great reluctance that we all alighted. Some teachers went on to find some bars in Kadikoy but I, exhausted by the long day, went to my room and fell into a dreamless sleep to be wakened by the heart-coruscating sounds of the muezzin at dawn.

The next day was again spent at the conference—where the students gave presentations which were generally of a very high calibre. At the risk of sounding biased I genuinely thought that our presentation—some of my students had gone to do voluntary work at an orphanage in Nepal; others in Kenya and one to the USA for a business course—was the best delivered and most professional. That evening, the students all went to Taksim to go partying in the trendy nightclubs of Istanbul and the teachers were treated to a fabulous dinner at one of Istanbul’s finest eateries. I am a bit of a gourmet—my girth is evidence of that!—and have eaten at some wonderful restaurants but this meal, really a chef’s tasting menu, of ‘traditional Ottoman cuisine’ was the best I have eaten. Those of you planning to visit this city should definitely make a stop at Cercis Murat restaurant in the upmarket area of Saudiye. The meal went on for a prolonged length of time as course after course was served: from the opening silver platter of mixed starters and cold hor d’oeuvres which were the freshest and tastiest I’ve ever had with an astonishing combination of flavours (from a divine pomegranate and tomato and herb dip through to the creamiest, smoothest and yet lightest yoghurt which simply slipped down the palate and disappeared in the mouth – a starter so delicious it nearly finished me off as I ate spoonful after spoonful of the heavenly ambrosia!—to kebabs made from raw ground and heavily spiced minced lamb and crushed wheat akin to the kibbe in Lebanese restaurants, via a divine lightly spiced lamb filet rice dish (a bit like a biryani) to hot Siş kebabs. This was accompanied by a supposedly delicious red wine which I did not taste (to my regret later as the others described its pleasures!). The meal was interspersed with very interesting conversation about Turkey and other things. Full to the brim and inebriated (some!) the teachers gradually made their individual ways back to their respective homes although some opted to go to Taksim instead for further drinks or clubbing. The conversation in the van on the way back to the hotel cannot be repeated but was very funny!

I, along with some colleagues from Amsterdam and a South African from Qatar, decided to explore the area around our hotel and ended up in a very dodgy and sleazy traditional Turkish bar where a bizarre version of karaoke seemed to be going on with drunk Turkish men singing (shouting was more accurate) into a microphone held by what looked like a belly dancer. The establishment appeared rather frightening and so after a round of drinks and some peanuts we rapidly paid and made our exit. This was followed by another round of drinks at a more respectable and safer bar and, being the only sober person in the group, I had to walk the others back to the hotel. On the way to the hotel the South African teacher hilariously nearly got attacked by one of the ubiquitous stray dogs which haunt the streets of Istanbul. For the whole duration of the stay in the Jewel of the World the staff were, it should be stressed, in regular contact via their mobile phones with their students to ensure they were safe and not doing anything untoward.

The following morning everyone was bleary-eyed and sleepy as the Conference wound up with its closing ceremony and we took the students back to the airport. After they had been checked in I decided to return to the hotel via Istanbul’s metro system and found it to be a very efficient and economical method of transport. Though there are only a couple of lines at present one can get to most parts of town easily and the carriages are comfortable and clean and modern—very akin to the U-bahn in Germany. I stopped off at Sultanahmet and was mesmerised by the sheer architectural and visual splendour of the Blue Mosque on one side and the Aya Sophia on the other. The azaan sounded at around that time and so I made my ablutions and rushed to pray the afternoon prayer in the Blue Mosque along with the myriads of tourists and other worshippers who thronged there. The inside of the mosque is simply magnificent. No words can do it justice. If the Suleymaniye was majestic and sombre hinting at power and kingly glory this building represented joy and beauty and refinement and spiritual bliss. The main prayer hall of the mosque with the calligraphy and stained glass windows and high cupolas and domes gave it an airy and light feel. It became my new favourite building in Istanbul.
After praying I spent some time exploring the building and taking photos. Reluctantly leaving I made my way to the Topkapi Palace—the imperial palace of the Ottoman sultans for hundreds of years—having a delicious freshly-squeezed pomegranate juice from a vendor on the way—and spent a few hours exploring this imperial palace. What struck me was the simplicity of the furniture --just carpets and cushions—compared with the opulence of other imperial palaces I had seen (for example in Vienna of the Hapsburgs) although the tessellating tile-work was glorious and the palace was spread out over a wide expanse of land most breathtakingly where the palace gardens opened up onto the Bosphorus. What a view! I imagined what it must have been like to be a sultan and my imagination went wild. My favourite section though had to be the pavilion which housed the sacred relics of religious figures from Islamic, Christian and Judaic history. Here I was awestruck and humbled as I saw, amongst other things, the following: the sacred beard hair of the Prophet Muhammad (peace and blessings of Allah be upon him), his blessed sword, his bow, his sandals, his seal, the swords of the first four Righteous Caliphs in Islam, the rod of Moses, the severed arm of John the Baptist, and the turban of Prophet Joseph. Unfortunately, I did not have enough time to see either the Harem section of the Topkapi nor the inside of the Aya Sophia as they were both about to close for the day. So I made my way on the metro to Eminonou and then took a taxi to visit Sultan Eyup—which houses the tomb of one of the companions of the Prophet Muhammad and his flag-bearer, a Companion named Abu Ayyub al-Ansari (may God be pleased with him!) –Eyup is the Turkish pronunciation. This region of the city was very quiet and peaceful and, sadly for me, the entrance to the shrine was closed for the day, but I managed to pray for the saint outside beside the walls of his tomb. Tears couldn’t help flowing on this occasion and then I prayed inside the mosque itself (which was open). I also drank some holy water from the tomb of a saint buried nearby. After walking around the complex I trudged back to the taxi stand and then, from Eminonou, took the ferry to the hotel, but not before revisiting the Suleymaniye and dining at the former kitchens of the Ottoman sultan which is now a restaurant.

The following morning, after checking out from the hotel, I made my way via ferry and metro to the Ataturk airport to bid a sad farewell to this magnificent city which I plan to visit again as soon as possible and memories of which have become permanently burned into my mind.