The Bibliography (The Official Praise)

I have a lot more than anticipated happening this week. I was hoping to finish Istanbul bit by this Friday, but it is looking like that will not happen. But, I do have time to do something that it drastically needed: Official Praise.

Throughout this blog I have been referencing a number of texts. Here’s the formal bibliography of the texts that I have been using:


Crowley, Roger. 1453: The Holy War for Constantinople and the Clash of Islam and the West. New York, New York: Hyperion, 2005.

Herrin, Judith. Byzantium: The Surprising Life of a Medieval Empire. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2008.

Lowden, John. Early Christian & Byzantine Art. London: Phaidon Press Limited, 1997.

Luttwak, Edward N. The Grand Strategy of the Byzantine Empire. Cambridge, Massachusetts, and London, England: The Belknap Press of Harvard University Press, 2009.

Mango, Cyril. Byzantium: The Empire of New Rome. New York: Charless Scribner’s Sons, 1980.

Mathews, Thomas F. Religious Organization and Church Architecture. New York: The Metropolitan Museum of Art, 1997.

Norwich, John Julius. Byzantium: The Early Centuries. New York: Alfred A. Knopf, Inc., 1995.

*___________. Byzantium: The Apogee. New York: Alfred A. Knopf, Inc., 1995.

*___________. Byzantium: The Decline and Fall. New York: Alfred A. Knopf, Inc., 1995.

Pamuk, Orhan. Istanbul: Memories and the City. New York, New York: Vintage International, a Division of Random House, Inc., 2006.

Phillips, Jonathan. The Fourth Crusade and the Sack of Constantinople. New York, New York: Penguin Group, 2004.

Wells, Colin. Sailing from Byzantium: How a Lost Empire Shaped the World. New York, New York: Bantam Dell, a Division of Random House, Inc., 2006.

Being Amongst the Last Ghost of Justinian

August 3, 2010


We got off to a late start in the morning.

Today was the last day that the other three were going to be in Istanbul. They were to ride a bus back to Varna that night and then catch flights back to the States right afterwards in the early morning. Therefore, once again, there was a limited amount of time to see as much as possible. And, once again, because of my wealth of knowledge about the sites, I was willfully elected to be the English tour guide.

... I actually volunteered. They did not have to twist my arm at all.

I had absolutely no qualms doing that because there were still some things to see that I did not get the chance to visit the day before. The Hagia Sophia and the nearby Mosaic Museum, in particular, are not open on Monday's. However, the Basilica Cisterns were closed on Tuesday's, which was a bit of a let down because the remaining three were going to leave Istanbul without seeing one of the most remarkable Byzantine sites. The upside was that, in all, the Hagia Sophia in itself is more than worth a trip to Istanbul.

As usual, the breakfast was remarkable. In the late morning I put on my travel backpack and set off for my new hotel where I was going to stay for the rest of the week. As I walked down to the Golden Horn from where I was in Taksim I began to think to myself that it was a little more humid than I had anticipated. Regardless, I did not stop. Even for water. I walked down Atıf Yılmaz Caddesi and took a left onto Tarlabaşı Bulvarı. After a short time I walked under an overpass, which surfaced again at the entrance to the Atatürk Bridge. Along the bridge I captured some greetings from the locals who were fishing off the sides. I am pretty sure I would not want to eat the seafood that comes out of the Golden Horn. Though, it certainly does look ‘Palaeologian-fresh’.

The sidewalks were occasionally non-existent so it became a little dangerous every so often when I had to dash across traffic with my thirty-pound pack shaking my balance all over creation. The heat was tolerable, but it was the humidity that was sneaky. It was not unbearable, but it became noticeable within a matter of minutes when my shirt was inexplicably, shockingly, soaking wet. As soon as I reached the Aqueduct of Valens I was beyond repair. I did not even want to think about my pack that was sticking against my back.

Gnarly.


The Valens Aqueduct

According to Google Maps, the trek should have taken me around one hour. It took me about an hour and twenty minutes because I was severely lost after I passed under the Valens Aqueduct. Of course, as usual, I was abiding by my trusty Constantinople memory map – aided by my memorization of left and right hand turns provided by a glance at Google Maps earlier that morning. As it turns out, alleyways and tiny streets all look about the same size on Google Maps. In reality, these alleyways and tiny streets are easily neglected and looked over. I thought I was bulletproof with my directions. I am the son of a navigator. Therefore I should be able to do this with ease.

Knowing that I was in the right location and relatively close to my destination, I walked into a hotel, looking as if I had been backpacking for months with no rest, all uphill, in the Sun, and asked for assistance. I was pointed in a direction and I went for it.

Moments later I was rudely reminded of the twisted, warped, contorted corn maze that is the modern city’s layout. Within a matter of minutes I was turned around and hopeless. As lost as a puppy, I entered another hotel. This time a guy steered me towards a rooftop that I could follow. Thank goodness.

The place was a block away from me the whole time. Great. Now that I was thoroughly irritated, I checked in. I diverted eye contact as much as possible because I looked like I just got out of a pool, forgot to dry off, and put on my clothes. I am surprised that my printout of the reservation did not disintegrate into pulp along the walk. You would have thought that I ran down the Valens Aqueduct to reach this place in good time. My hike was only roughly three miles in total, nothing to even flinch about in California’s weather, but certainly something to sweat about in Istanbul. I mean, three miles ago in my life I had a completely different physique. Later on that day, no one recognized me when I met up with them…
It was sad ☹ ← see the frown?

I am only kidding. But truly, in the purest form of the phrase, I did exemplify ‘a hot mess’.

I took another shower and prepared for the afternoon. I was to meet the remaining three by the Augustaion around 2pm. I set off around 1:15pm just incase I became lost again, which was completely likely. I was situated close enough to a major bone of Constantinople’s skeleton, so I could have followed that directly to the Hippodrome. But I decided that that was too easy. I took another route, which I thought would be parallel to that bone. I wound up, as usual, having to go under an overpass that had hundreds of Döner Kebap vendors, and then going up a flight of stairs back to the surface. It turns out that I found the middle of Istanbul University’s campus. The main gate, by the way, looks breathtaking. I would have taken pictures but my camera housed an empty battery, and I did not have the right power adapter to charge it. That was something that was on my list of things to get.

From the middle of the campus I headed down through a parking lot and onto Ordu Caddesi, once known as the Mese during Byzantine times. Now that I knew where I was, I headed down to the Augustaion, which was precisely where the road ended.

And I waited.

As I sat there and waited I gazed at the Church of Holy Wisdom. There was plenty to ponder about. I should note that I was not just sitting anywhere. I was, again, upon the Augustaion, recognized as the focal point of the entire Byzantine Empire. Before I go further, one has to keep in mind that the new location for a capital of the Roman Empire that Constantine was searching for had to meet certain criteria to match the original ethereal majesty of Rome. Originally known as the “New Rome” before being dubbed “Constantinople”, the city rests on seven hills like that of the original Rome in Italy. There was also a river that ran through the city that was as symbolic as the Tiber running its course through Rome.

When the city was constructed, it was done so with a precise and thought out plan. From where I was seated, for example, I had the Hagia Sophia in front of me and, at one time, the Grand Imperial Palace was behind me where the Blue Mosque now rests. In a publication that is essentially a compendium of essays having to do with Byzantium, Thomas F. Mathews, in his article titled, Religious Organizations and Church Architecture, states that the location of those two buildings with the Augustaion (Plaza of the Caesars) in the middle, can be viewed as the physical symbolic epicenter of balance that the emperors had to maintain between the secular imperial administration and the religious administration within the empire. Metaphorically it could be viewed as both the left and right sides of the brain, whereas the body is not able to function without the balanced companionship of the other. A more Palaeologian viewpoint would be to use their double headed eagle, where the right and left heads, both facing opposite directions, are planted within the one body and coexist. Anyway, you get the picture.

Right when I was about to pass out from a kind of historical coma, I heard my name. Sure enough it was the remaining three. Marie Packard, Hope Scofield and Jessi Addison had finally settled themselves in their new temporary location and came to meet me.

First things first - we were hungry. We went to a café close by and ate. There was nothing really interesting to note during this meal other than a quite thirsty Marie ordering a coffee, thinking that it was going to be a substantial amount of liquid to quench her thirst. It turned out to be a typical Turkish coffee, brimming to the edge in the thimble that it was poured into. There was also a kid at the table next to us that was playing with a penguinic cat. That was mildly entertaining.

Second things second - time to visit the most amazing place on earth, the Hagia Sophia. Hope decided that she was going to the Egyptian Market down by the Golden Horn instead of roaming the Hagia Sophia with us. To each their own. The two others and I eagerly jumped in the line.


Inside the Hagia Sophia

Caution: If you (the reader) have not done so yet, read my entry entitled, “A Series of Small Walls…” where I break apart the notion of being a tourist who does not have the means to understand what it is they are really witnessing. It is an entry full of facts and a rough timeline of the Hagia Sophia.

It is a place of wonder. But not that kind of wonder that is always associated with the world “childish”. It’s a place of wonder that is beyond human comprehension and demands reverence. Since the 6th century the structure has been a paradigm of original church design. There were other versions of the church beforehand, but none like the current one that we see today, which was, you guessed it, built under the reign of Justinian the Great. It is old and weathered, but it still holds a beauty that expounds, tirelessly, the entire history of humankind. It has been a witness to every kind of behavior and personality possible to encounter. It has seen the coronations of the most blood curdling figures of human history, as well as some of the most penitent and magnanimous. It has survived pounding earthquakes and numerous conflagrations, schisms, and sieges. It is compose of the finest and richest elements that the earth can produce. It played a key role in one of the greatest empires, ever. It is a beholder of mythos, an opulent creation mirrored after heaven, a piece of kindling that can light a whole nation with rattling fervor; and most of all, it is one of the finest examples of what the minds of humankind are capable of bringing into being. Its dimensions stupefy your ability to digest imagery and yet its entire history is still not fully understood and known. And the best part is that it probably will never be fully known, which only adds to its mythos.

As we entered the narthex the imperial doors looked cumbersome and actually worthy of the title, “imperial doors”. During the final siege, Roger Crowley recounts in his book, 1453, “…[that] the Janissary's hacked down the imperial doors and proceeded to capture people as slaves, plunder, and destroy." The Hagia Sophia was one of the last places of refuge for the survivors of the Ottoman siege. St. Michael, it was believed, was to descend from heaven and save the remaining citizens of the Byzantine Empire from the butchery. But that did not happen.


Myself in front of the Imperial Doors

As we walked through the doors neighboring the imperial, we set foot in the nave, which still holds the evidence of its true age within the Proconnesian marble on the floor. Also in 1453, Crowley states, “As [Mehmet II, 'The Conqueror'] stepped inside the great church, he seemed to be both amazed and appalled at what he saw. As he walked across the great space he caught sight of a soldier smashing away at the marble floor. He asked the man why he was doing this. "For the Faith," the man replied. Infuriated by this visible defiance of his orders to preserve the buildings, he struck the man with his sword.”

As we looked up in the center, we could see the famous dome, which is really as John Julius Norwich describes, “Broader and higher than any other dome previously constructed, it is a shallow saucer pierced around its rim with forty windows so that it appeared to be 'suspended from heaven by a golden chain'.”


'suspended from heaven by a golden chain'

We continued over to a more quiet area of the church, towards where the diakonikon would have been (the room to the right of the altar). There was a cat that somehow meandered in past security. He was basking on the marble floors in the sunlight beaming through the windows. Oddly enough he was not a black and white ‘penguinic’ cat. A guard eventually took note of the little beast and ushered it back to where it came from.


A Small Beast that Lurked within the Back Walls

Along the way to the second story we passed the spot where all the Byzantine Emperors, except for Constantine XI, were crowned with the imperial diadem. It is in the format of a square and is composed of every type of marble the empire could conjure up. The design is a reflection of the emperor’s sole ability to reign over all the different regions of the empire, which are represented in the different marbles. To imagine the marble as it once was, the poet Paul the Silentiary wrote an exquisite piece describing it:

“...the fresh green from Carystus, and many colored marble from the Phrygian range, in which a rosy blush mingles with white or shines bright with flowers of deep red and silver. There is a wealth of porphyry too, powdered with brilliant stars, that once weighed down the boats of the broad Nile. You may see an emerald green from Sparta, and the glittering marble with the undulating veins which the tool has worked from the deep bosom of the Iassian hills, showing slanting streaks of blood-red and livid white... Stone too there is that the Libyan sun, warming with his golden light, has nurtured from the dark clefts of the Moorish hills, of crocus color sparkling like gold; and that product of the Celtic crags, a wealth of crystals, like milk splashed over a surface of shining black. There is the precious onyx, looking as if gold were glowing through it, and the marble that the land of Atrax yields... in parts a fresh green like the sea or emerald stone, or again like blue cornflowers in grass, with here and there a drift of fallen snow...”


Location of Coronations

From the second story, again, we were in awe over the mosaics; all of which were made after the spell of Iconoclasm that the empire fell into for a short period around the 8th and 9th centuries. From here, the illusion of the limitlessness of space that the vaults create really starts to arrest your senses. One almost becomes numb trying to process it all. Though the version of the Hagia Sophia that we were witnessing that day was barebones compared to other times in its history, one can still piece together what it might have looked like with the remaining partially uncovered mosaics. Paul the Silentiary also recounted that, "The vaulting is formed of countless little squares of gold cemented together. And the golden stream of glittering rays pours down and strikes the eyes of men, so that they can scarcely bear to look. It is as if one were to gaze upon the mid-day sun in spring, when it gilds every mountain height.” He wrote that for a service on Christmas Eve in 563 AD. Okay, so maybe we cannot even begin to imagine what the place once looked like. But it was still amazing to see it with my own eyes.

Remember, my camera has been dead this whole time. There was no way I was going to leave Istanbul without capturing images of the Hagia Sophia, so I decided that I would come back tomorrow to explore it in more depth.

I could go on forever about the place, but I think I should save some material for the next entry.

Once we were satiated enough with Hagia Sophia goodness, we walked through the streets to the Egyptian Market, where we were to meet up with Hope. She was waiting for us outside the entrance and we then decided to head back to their bus’s embarkation point by walking back through the market. So we walked and walked. Through the Egyptian Market and up the same hill Denise and I walked up the day before. Only, I kept on a main path and did not stray to the left whenever possible. This caused us to run into the back entrance to the Grand Bazaar.

Moving on -

By the time 7pm rolled around, the remaining three were on the bus headed out of Istanbul and on their way back home to the States. I was alone now in Constantinople and had the rest of the week to continue to explore the Byzantine relics still remaining here.

Though I had seen an enormous amount by now, my Indiana Jones hat was still far from coming off.

Constantinople; Day 1.4, Origination Points upon the Sixth Hill

With the Basilica Cisterns behind us, Denise and I wandered into the streets to the west of the Hippodrome and the Hagia Sophia. As we headed towards the mosaic museum we observed numerous rug makers, who were handcrafting beautiful rugs in the shop windows for all spectators to see. Incidentally, the streets were barren, which made us stand out even more than we already did. The unoccupied shopkeepers were on to us. They all made sure that our attention was directed towards them and their high quality rugs. We were eventually suckered into one of the shops, taken to the back, and shown five different styles of rugs. We learned how to tell the difference between the real silk and fake Chinese knockoffs. We were encouraged to feel the cotton, then the wool types. Then, we were shown the different patterns, sizes/thread counts, and uses for each of the rugs. The only issue was that no matter how much he showed us, and no matter how much he educated us, the rugs were still astronomically expensive and large. We politely asked for his card (incase we had a change of heart), and continued down the street.

Just to the side of the Blue Mosque is the mosaic museum. It happened to be closed for the day. Rats. No matter though, that basically bought us more time at our next stop on the list: the Saint Savior Church in Chora.

We hopped into a cab with a driver that spoke no English and said, “Kariye Camii”. A couple nods were exchanged and we embarked towards the sixth hill of Constantinople.

Driving down one of the branches of the old Mese, it was hard to focus on the Byzantine places that we were passing because the driving method in these parts of the world demanded everyone’s complete attention – whether you liked it or not.

Driving is actually an amazing phenomenon here. Back home, or 'in the west', where rules are implemented and strictly followed, fatal accidents happen like clockwork. Elsewhere in the world, where we westerners think that the driving style is more eccentric, accidents are actually quite rare. The difference lies in the driver's awareness of their surroundings. The westerner is taught to drive defensively, to think for the safety of him or herself. But let’s be honest, this rarely happens. Everybody else in the world does drive defensively because they are forced to. Most drivers out there in the world are incredibly erratic. Therefore, everyone else in the world is attune to the fact that driving is a very dangerous activity, which ultimately engenders him or her to be able to attentively read/maneuver through all sorts of, if not all, driving situations.

Within a matter of minutes we arrived at the church with no problem.

Now, about this surviving Byzantine gem:
In Colin Wells’ book entitled, "Sailing from Byzantium", he outlines how the disintegrating Byzantine Empire culturally prepared itself over its final centuries to survive beyond its impending physical demise. The illumination of texts, influence in architecture, diffusion of Orthodoxy, and political marriages with neighboring countries (especially with burgeoning Russia) are just some examples of how the Eastern Roman Empire fastened itself within other cultures when the actual empire was physically unraveling into despotates (such as Morea), and a smaller “empire” called Trebizond.

The last dynasty of the Byzantine Empire, The Palaeologian Dynasty, may have overlooked the final days of Constantinople, but their legacy, as well as that of Byzantium in general, has resided practically everywhere since then.


Just to name a few off the top of my head:

• Russia has a double headed eagle on their coat of arms for a reason. Look it up. Moscow, otherwise known as, “The Third Rome”.

• The Renaissance can be traced directly back to Byzantium.

• The Greek Orthodox Church has numerous Palaeologian influences. The most obvious of which is the use of the double headed eagle on its coat of arms.

• The concept of a hospital, as in a place not to die in or be treated for military wounds, is a uniquely Byzantine concoction.

• Architecturally, the Hagia Sophia, as I have discussed in previous entries, reverberates strongly with Islamic mosques.

• In Edward N. Luttwak’s book, "The Grand Strategy of the Byzantine Empire", he talks about the Byzantine method of diplomacy, which closely resonates in many ways with American diplomatic policy.


Saint Savior in Chora was a site that adheres comfortably with the second bullet point I just listed. For some reason, the Church in Chora was spared during the siege of 1453, which makes it a marvel to witness; it is a literal window into the 14th century. Mostly all of the mosaics are somewhat intact and there is no evidence of them being plastered over like those in the Hagia Sophia. Really, the only evidence of Turkish influence is the lone minaret, awkwardly slapped onto a corner outside.

The beginning of Colin Wells’ book starts off with the significance of Chora and its patron, Metochites, who oversaw the renovation of 1315-21AD. He claims that between the artwork being done at the Chora and the Arena Chapel in Padua, Italy (done around the same time), “… art historians have suggested that they share a common humanistic aesthetic… Some have traced this interest back to Byzantium, to the period of innovation in Byzantine art that culminated in the Chora and that helped spark the artistic revolution to follow in the West.” In a sense, Denise and I were looking at the seminal influence that woke the sleeping artistic beast in the West!


An Apostle Holds the Gospel

How cool is that?! I would say, “Pretty darn cool, John”.

On top of that, Metochites is also viewed as a grandfather of the Renaissance in yet another way. After the renovation, he donated his entire personal library to the church for the monks (it was a monastery at the time) to use. He was essentially promoting the humanities because those titles were more than just liturgical works. Wells’ claims that, “The heirs of Metochites were the Byzantine Humanists that formed an alliance with the Western Humanists in Italy, which brought forth the Renaissance.”

There you have it.

The place in which Denise and I were now standing in can be viewed at the match head that ignited the spark. We may not be able to see the library of Metochites or the monastic compound that produced those Byzantine Humanists, but the mosaic artwork that is embedded into those cold walls is certainly the same artwork that had embedded itself deep into the foundation of the Renaissance.


An Incredible Gold Mosaic

We spent a long time trying to capture pictures throughout the entire church. No use of flash, of course. By the time we were satiated from the brilliant mosaic mastery, the sun was beginning to recede over the megopolis. It was late in the day and we still had one more Byzantine ghost to witness up close: the Theodosian Walls.

No more than a five minute walk up from Chora, the Theodosian Walls stood before us as they have since Theodosius II constructed them at the beginning of the 5th century; Opus Mixtum and all. Seeing how we were extremely exhausted by now, we were determined to make this a short hike. Using the map of the walls that I had in my memory (see previous journal entry “Byzantium; Day 1.3, Towers and Cisterns”, for an explanation about the use of maps), I thought that we would follow them northbound until they stopped at the Golden Horn. Once there we would take a cab back to Taksim and pass out from exhaustion at the Hotel Not Worth Mentioning.


Segment of Theodosian Walls

Naturally, one would think that there would be a path of some sort that would lead along the walls. Well, there was one, but it did not last for very long. It stopped at just about the same point where the hills became more severe and the houses started to be built into the actual walls. This was fine, until we could not see the walls any longer. The streets were so meandrous and the buildings so lofty, that this ‘fun exploration’ was about to become a mad dash to find an exit for the sake of our survival. It was a race against the sun, and we were definitely in a neighborhood that was watching every move we made. Staying as close as we could determine to the walls, we found them exposed again further up being used as a back boundary to a park. They opened up to a nicely preserved face of a building, once known as the Blachernae. This palace was built sometime in the 6th century and used as a imperial residence under the Palaeologian dynasty (1261-1453AD). Now resting as a empty shell attached to the walls, this find was a hugely significant landmark to happen upon. It was used as a summer palace for most emperors, but it gained notoriety both during the end of the Fourth Crusade and the at final siege of 1453AD when it was the first spot along the walls to be breached. It is hard to imagine now, but it was reported that the palace was once to be of such beauty that foreign visitors could find no words to describe it. Apparently Constantinople was brimming with buildings of immense beauty.


Blachernae

Blachernae is also believed to be the location of the horrid Anemas Dungeon. This was where emperors such as John V have mutilated potential threats to the throne (his own son and grandson) and also where Andronikos the Terrible (1181-85AD) was tortured before he was, “…put upon an a mangy camel among taunting crowds to the Hippodrome, where he was strung upside down between two columns and slaughtered.”

At the time I did not know that we had stumbled upon Blachernae. I knew it was obviously something, so I took some pictures (enough to be able to do some research on it later), and we continued northward towards the Golden Horn.

Having no idea how long it would take, I could sense that we needed to get back as soon as possible. The mangled layout of streets was becoming a nuisance. As we winded down the sixth hill we caught up to… tourists? There was a couple that had just been hiking around the neighborhood all afternoon. They too were lost. They also had no idea that they were near the Theodosian Walls… nor did they know anything about the Theodosian Walls. I was appalled. Though challenging, I kept my thoughts and comments to myself. Determining that it would be better to stick together we walked down to the Golden Horn as a group.

They were from New York and were staying through Friday. That’s all I remember about them.

Arriving on Ayvansaray Caddesi, we grabbed the first cab we saw roll our way. The guy was really nice. Half way back to Taksim I notice why. He cleverly used his taxi fare meter as a timer, not as a fare gauge. So by now on the drive we were subject to any price he demanded. After we practically paid triple what the ride was actually worth, we hiked up the small hill to Hotel Not Worth Mentioning.

We did it. The plan was complete. Denise could return to the States having had a thorough introduction to the Byzantine Constantinople.

It had been an extremely long day/night-before, but it was not over. It was the last night that the five of us were going to be together so we decided to go out for dinner. All of us were experiencing varying degrees of delirium by this point so we settled for anything we could find on Istiklal Caddesi. We ended up at a place that specialized in cuisine from Antioch. It was typical Eastern Mediterranean: kabob, humus, salad of sorts, etc. The owner was very creepy and kept "charming" up the girls I was with by calling them angels, etc. Eventually he wanted to know my name because I was so lucky to be with so many girls. I shook his hand and said, “Ralph. Pleasure to meet you”.

That became my alias throughout the rest of my stay in Istanbul. I’m sure he did not tell me his real name either. At any rate, as good as the food was, we were severely swindled on the pricing of the meal. It cost around five-times more than it should have.

As we walked back the group splintered apart. Some wanted to shop at some scarf place along the way back while the rest of us kept walking to the hotel. Denise went to get some water so she fell behind as well. I continued to my room, laid down on the bed, blasted the air conditioning and fell asleep.


9pm.
Phone rings. I fumble to the phone in pitch black darkness. I received a phone call from the States that night. Raoul Hotchandani and Anand Manohara called to say hi. Perfect. What a good note to end the day.

Good night.

Constantinople; Day 1.3, Towers and Cisterns

Hidden amongst the confusion of tall buildings, the midday sun was nowhere in sight. Now at the Hotel Not Worth Mentioning we were finally able to recover from the long night and morning travels.

Sit down.
Collect yourself.
A shower was in order - along with a short nap.

The heat was not all that horrible and the humidity was tolerable. After the horrid weather I felt in Bulgaria, the weather-beast that Istanbul was trying to unleash was hardly anything. Still, the room was equipped with air-conditioning and I blasted it. It had been forever since I felt anything cool. I had come to learn throughout this whole trip that the coldest anything ever became in the summer was, at best, tepid. No matter, I was finally in a room that had an air-conditioner that did not amount to anything more than a false promise.

Even though the group was finally free from the oppressive chains of the tour group, I still found myself in a rigorous schedule for the rest of the day. Denise Kulp had to return to the real world tomorrow morning around 5am. This posed a challenge. She therefore had the rest of the afternoon to see as much as possible. That amounted, in total, to five hours of touring through Istanbul. To my benefit, she was not interested in anything that had to do with the Ottoman period. So we spent the previous afternoon planning ahead and devising a thorough tour of Byzantine Constantinople.

The Plan:
Our location in the Taksim district provided the perfect starting point. The plan was to walk down to the Tower of Galata, venture to the top, and enjoy the panoramic view of The Golden Horn and the peninsula. Then, winding our way across the first bridge to the Egyptian Bazaar. After tunneling our way through the covered portions, we would traverse to the nexus of old Byzantium, the Augustaion, to explore the Basilica Cisterns and gawk at the Hagia Sophia. Finally, we would take a cab up what was once the Mese and end up at the Saint Savior Church in Chora, which was perfectly located about two minutes (walking distance) the to Theodosian Walls/Blacharnae Palace’s ruins.

Perfect.

We set out from the hotel in Taksim and headed down a main thoroughfare. We had no map. Who needs a map anyways? I was going to guide Denise and I through my memory of ancient maps of Constantinople. It was a ridiculous idea, granted, but I did want to see if I could do it. All the old buildings are still in their respected spots so I figured that all I had to do was head, relatively, in the corresponding direction.



Here's a perfect example of an old map of Constantinople.
Clearly, this is a pristine 'drawn to scale' representation of the city.



This is largely drawn-up from Jonathan Phillips' research devised around the time of the Fourth Crusade (1204CE)


There is a trick to navigating places like this. Most of the time, especially in Istanbul, maps will be anything other than helpful for the traveler. The city is a Gordian knot of paths and street signs are a rare sight. The famed Roman grid system in Constantinople, the same system that made much of the Empire so neat and tidy, went completely out the window when the Ottoman’s rebuilt it. What one has to do is get to know the boulevards, the main streets of the city (the few streets that are marked), and become familiar with them. These big bones of the Istanbul body will lead to everywhere ‘Byzantine’ that you want to go. So use them first. Then branch out from there, and explore the surrounding veins and arteries of the metropolis. Eventually, the entire weave will come together and you should then be able to understand the grand pattern of the city’s layout.

In 1843, Gérard de Nerval, a French poet in Istanbul at the time, wrote in his book, Voyage en Orient, that the main avenue in Taksim, “…resembled Paris: fashionable clothes, laundries, jewelers, sparkling display windows, cafés, [and] embassies...” As Denise and I walked down this avenue I could see that it still was very similar to how Mr. Nerval described it in 1843. Aside from the obvious addition of electricity, the storefronts were basically the same, the streets were still of cobblestone, and the embassies still peered out from in between shops here and there. Not knowing it at the time, we were on Istiklal Caddesi (Independence Street), an ideal street to follow to make it to the Tower of Galata. I just wanted to make it to The Golden Horn. I figured that from there we would be able to see the tower above all the surrounding buildings and then head in that direction.


Istiklal Caddesi (Independence Street), Taksim, Istanbul

As we headed down Istiklal, we veered to the left to look at some music shops. No further than ten yards we looked to our right and there was the tower. How fortuitous!


The Tower of Galata

Built in 528AD under the reign of Justinian the Great, the tower occupies the shore directly across the tip of the old city. This region, known as Galata, was a district that was exclusive to merchants and Genoese traders (from the 13th century onward). Fastened to the walls that the tower inhabits was an actual chain that secured The Golden Horn from naval attacks during sieges. Therefore, the security of the city ultimately rested on the stability of the Theodosian Walls and reliability of Galata Tower’s chain. When Denise and I rode the elevator the two hundred feet to the top we were able to see the incredible view of Constantinople in its entirety. From the acropolis to the Theodosian Walls, one can see everything. What is more fascinating is that you can get a sense of Galata’s ancient dimensions. The walls that used to be the boundaries of the city are still there. The modern city has just built itself into them. If you look carefully, some of it still stands. Lastly, when the Ottoman’s invaded in 1453, they needed to attack via The Golden Horn to attempt to break through the weak sea walls along the peninsula. The chain was very effective. It was so effective that the Ottoman’s thought a way around it. They literally took their ships from out of the water in the Bosphorus and rolled them around Galata’s walls and launched them back into The Golden Horn, completely circumventing the chain all together. Some argue that this is what won the siege in favor of the Ottomans. Regardless, as we stood up there on top of the tower, there was plenty to think about and imagine.


"The modern city has just built itself into them"

Done with the tower, we headed in the general direction of the first bridge across the mouth of The Golden Horn. Twisting the winding our way down the hill we dodged traffic and hiked across the Galata Köprü (bridge). Moving swiftly through an underground tunnel, packed with merchant’s stalls, we surfaced at the entrance of the covered Egyptian Bazaar. The bazaar is an absolutely fascinating place. At one point in history, Constantinople was a trader’s paradise. This area of the world was the threshold between Asia and Europe. Both the Silk Road and the Spice Route had enterprising feelers here, which made the Byzantines and Ottomans ridiculously wealthy when they instituted policies and treaties that favored trade. The natural harbor in Constantinople acquired its name because so much wealth had passed through those waters that it incidentally became known as The Golden Horn. But, the most genuine thing about the Egyptian Bazaar is the selection of spices. Authentic or not, the packaging and display of them throughout the mass of merchant stalls makes it incredibly easy to imagine the place a thousand years ago, or more. This was a far cry from the Safeway at home. And the ability to bargain! Oh! It’s another game in itself. Unfortunately, I cannot reveal to you my personal methods of negotiation.


Denise Purchases Spices


Spices Hang to Dry

Admiring the apple tea, cardamom and disgusting Turkish Delights, we purchased and haggled what we desired and exited the market. Keeping in mind that we had no map, we headed towards the general direction of the Hippodrome. The only problem was that you could start off in that direction, but 70% of the time the street would end up curving into a completely new and opposite direction. Not before long, you have no idea where you are. No matter though, just keep taking left-hand turns and progress southeast. As long as it is still light out, there should be no reason to worry. Right turn. Right turn. Straight. Left turn, turns into right. Right turn brings you back down, so take the next left. Back to left, up, then right. Dead end ahead so take the next left. Hike up a steeeeeeeeeeep hill. Right turn. Straight. There is no end... but do not give up hope!

Wait! I see something!

What?!

Is that… an El Torito? Well, yes it is. I could see a Planet Hollywood restaurant here. But, let us be honest, an El Torito has no business here. It is completely out of place.

Alas, the little bull has made its way across the drink and landed in Istanbul. Fair enough. We needed a break. The temptation to go back to our hotel and sleep was starting to speak to us. This temptation is what I like to call, “The Darkness”. It is always important to stay active, especially when lacking sleep; otherwise you will succumb to The Darkness. And The Darkness always wins. Once someone has succumbed to The Darkness, there is no telling when it will leave you, but it is a good chance it will be sometime around 3am. It’s ruthless and leaves you as ruined as the places you wish to visit around you.

Now refreshed, we headed towards the notion that what we wanted was still further south. It worked. We stumbled upon the Hippodrome just minutes later and the Basilica Cistern was just minutes after that.

Ever since there has been a town on this peninsula, the water situation has been sparse. In order to remedy the water problem, an aqueduct that ran through the city was installed sometime early on in the Roman Empire. The aqueduct emptied into the Basilica Cistern, which, as with most Byzantine public works that still stand, is accredited to Justinian the Great. As far as Byzantine structures are concerned, the cistern is one of the greatest secrets to be explored by tourists.

In the 16th century a Dutch traveler, P. Gyllius, studying the Byzantine buildings still left in the city, caught on to a peculiar local phenomenon. The locals were descending buckets into holes in some basements to acquire fresh water. Some locals were even catching fish. Wanting to look into this, he found a secluded courtyard completely surrounded by walls and carefully went down a staircase that led into one of these watery holes. With only torchlight, he was able to determine, and later explore via boat, that this was the manmade cistern that fed water to the imperial palaces, residences, and churches of the old town. The underground structure is massive. Composed of around 336 columns, they are each about 30 feet tall and are of both Corinthian and Doric design. The cistern is about 32,152 square feet and can hold an estimated 100,000 tons of water. Under the right lighting conditions, it looks as though it’s an endless field of columns. There is only about 2 feet of water in it currently. There have been numerous renovations throughout the century to keep it in a solid and stable state. Presently there is a catwalk that leads you through the maze of columns. Hidden at the back left of the cistern there are a pair of columns that are worth mentioning. On the base of these particular columns are heads of Medusa. For reasons of superstition or for no reason at all, they rest ‘upside-down’ and ‘to the side’ facing the same direction.


One of Two Medusa Columns

There is also one particular column along the catwalk that has tears formed within the body of the column. If one wants good luck, they can place their thumb in the nucleus of the tear and trace their fingers around the form of the entire tear.


A Cistern "Tear Column"

Personally, the Basilica Cistern is one of my favorite sites to see in Istanbul. The fact that it was so haphazardly found, and the fact there are probably more undiscovered cisterns out there in old Constantinople, gives me the rejuvenating feeling of the potential for more discovery out there.


The Endless Field of Columns


Thus, you never know what kind of historically altering evidence still may be brought forth to the table.


Complete the entire puzzle before starting work on the next one.

Constantinople; Day 1.2, From the Blue Mosque to Midday

After admiring the skeletal remains of the Hippodrome we entered the Mosque of Sultan Ahmet I, otherwise known as the Blue Mosque. It is a working mosque, so it is closed to non-worshipers during the five prayer times a day, and an extended time during their holy day of Friday. It is open to non-worshipers, such as us, but we had to enter through the southern entrance, traverse through the courtyard, and enter the actual body of the mosque through a side door.


Southern Entrance of Blue Mosque

The beauty about all mosques is the ability to use language as a form of art. Because images are forbidden, the written language is used to create phenomenal interweaving designs of passages of the Qur’an that riddle the interiors. Complex geometrical shapes and contorted floral patterns are also used to emphasize the beauty of “The Faith”.


Interior of Blue Mosque

The Blue Mosque was constructed almost exactly one hundred and fifty years after the fall of the Byzantine Empire in 1453CE. It took fourteen years to construct, which puts the mosque, in its entirety, dating to 1617. Aside from its function and looks, there is plenty about this place that is Byzantine. For starters, it is built on top of the location of the Great Palace of Byzantium. Physically, it is composed of material from the Hippodrome and the Great Palace. As far as the cascading domes and vaults that typify the basic architectural design of every mosque around the world? All one has to do is look right across the way at the Hagia Sophia, the Church of Holy Wisdom. That is where the influence comes from. At the monastic site on Djanavara hill in Bulgaria, the leaders of the dig often discussed the usual designs of the early churches, one of which is the presence of a courtyard, always found in the front of the church. This is also something that the mosque design acquired and can still be seen everywhere. I should also note that the blue of the mosque is something unique to Turkey. Though not an original color, specifically to Turkey, the blue-ish hue was prevalent throughout the markets across the country. The French took note of this and dubbed it as ‘turquoise’. Of course, the stone and color were known by many other names beforehand, but the Turkish-influenced name has dominated in the modern era.

Istanbul is filled with stray cats. There are probably two stray dogs and fifty thousand stray cats. That’s my guess. There is one particular type of cat that I noticed all over the city. From the Phanariot district by the Theodosian Walls to the Topkapi Palace on the old acropolis, the cats are everywhere and they look like little black and white cows. Penguinic Cats: always dressed for the occasion. Come to think of it, I could just be seeing the same three cats everywhere I go. Honestly, there is no way I can tell one from the other.


Penguinic Cat of Blue Mosque

The Hagia Sophia is closed on Monday’s. After we exited the Blue Mosque, all we could do was look at it in awe. It truly is a mammoth of a structure. It is really hard to even describe how immense it is, then comprehend that it was built in the sixth century. Justinian the Great had really built a wonder of the world, the last great emblem of Roman architecture.

Onto the Augustaion, which is completely paved/built over and only really has the Milion left of it. There once was a statue of Justinian, holding an orb, and facing toward the east (Persia), where all the eminent threats of the empire were coming from. Unknowingly passing through it, we went down a side street next to the Hagia Sofia and passed the Basilica Cisterns, which I was going to come back and visit later with my traveling partner-extraordinaire (always hungry for the Byzantine in Constantinople), Denise Kulp.

We drove in our bus across the Golden Horn, this time on the bridge that leads directly into Galata. We passed the Galata Tower on the left and eventually Dolmabahçe Palace, the last architectural hurrah of the Ottoman’s, on the right. We crossed the first bridge over the Bosphorus into what was once Nicaea. The terrain is extremely mountainous. The bus pulled up on a promontory that allowed us to view a gigantic panoramic view of the beginning of the European continent. We could see, literally, from the tip of Constantinople all the up the Bosphorus, past the second bridge connecting the continents, to the mouth of the Black Sea. By this time our energy acquired from breakfast was starting to wear off. Luckily, we were allowed enough time as this spot to order a coffee, or Coke, if needed at the adjacent café. The caffeine would have to last us to the next spot, at least. We could only hope that there was not much more of this ridiculous mandatory tour. While we were waiting for our liquid fuel, the balcony we were on was quivering in perfect intervals of a few seconds at a time. All I could think about was the prominence of earthquakes throughout the annals of Byzantine history. The Hagia Sophia, if it could speak, would be able to talk about the over one thousand plus earthquakes it has felt. Some of which were so intense that the dome collapsed. I just tucked those thoughts in the back of my mind. Looking at the steep hills and mountains did not help, though. One has to realize that they look that jagged and sinister for a reason.


Bosphorus looking down towards the Black Sea

A half an hour later we were back across the Bosphorus and driving along the outside of the Theodosian Walls, headed southbound. There is a road that runs parallel to the wall, which was perfect because I wanted to see them as much as possible. Most of the gates were still relatively intact. The most impressive one was the Golden Gate, which was the most important one of them all. If there was a victory parade from a victorious emperor just returning from abroad, the parade more than likely started there, entering through the Golden Gate, and proceeding down the Mese (Middle Thoroughfare) and ending at the entrance of the Hippodrome. My camera battery died by this point, but here’s a good link to see what they look like.

It is interesting to note that the land in which the walls are situated is not fallow or abandoned. Locals have used every possible part of the walls by growing gardens in the available soil, building shops within cavities that are large enough, and continuing to use gates that are still stable. The walls serve no defensive function anymore, obviously, but they do stand as a memorial to the feat of Roman engineering that held entire empires, and every kind of military technology, at bay until the invention of the cannon in the early 15th century finally cracked it in May of 1453. The Avars, Slavs, Arabs, Russians, Bulgars, even the Goths ( just to name a few) could not penetrate the symbolic shield of the Empire.

The last stop on the tour was a total setup. We were brought to a leather company just outside the Golden Gate, clearly so we could shop. They brought us through the basement, which housed what looked suspiciously like a sweatshop, so, I guess, we could see how the products were made? As if we were now going to be motivated to buy their merchandise? Then they took us up through a back staircase, up four flights, and onto the showroom floor. The leather was pretty nice, but the cheapest item was about as much as a months rent in an accommodating San Francisco apartment. Worst of all, the salesmen were everywhere, like sharks in a tuna factory, asking you, “ How can I help you spend your money?” They probably did not mean to sound that rude. But I could not tell. Perhaps they actually were that cocky.

The best thing about that showroom was the refreshments table. It consisted of the usual tea, coffee, water, and cans of beer. If I was not inclined to purchase anything sober, perhaps if they offered me beer I would consider it? Wow, what a store.

Thankfully, by noon we were back at our home base in Taksim.

The Istanbul summation was complete.

Constantinople; Day 1.1, From Dawn to the Hippodrome

Note: Currently, it has roughly been over ten days since I returned home to California. Knowing that I could not do justice to the history I was witnessing off hand, I decided to wait and write these last blog entries until I had the proper resources in front of me to reference. I did take copious notes and took thousands of pictures to keep my journey to Istanbul as thoroughly documented as possible. So bear in mind that this has been thought about extensively. It is only now that I have had the time to put this to type.



August 2, 2010

After passing over the threshold of Byzantium (the Theodosian Walls), through what I think was once the Gate of St. Romanus, we were officially in what was once the grandest city in the world: Constantinople. We drove down Adnan Menderes Boulevard and took a left onto Atatürk Boulevard, which took us through one of the magnificent stone arches of Emperor Valens’ still-standing Aqueduct. Not a minute later we passed over the Atatürk Bridge going across the famed Golden Horn. To look to my right and see down the Golden Horn was inspiring. One can see the entrance to the Egyptian Market, the silhouettes of the minarets of the Hagia Sophia and Blue Mosque, as well as Tower of Galata, and the countless other mosques which were once the most famous churches in all of Christendom (Church of the Holy Apostles, etc.). I could not wait to get my feet in gear and walk this ancient capital, as any given foreigner would have since the days of the Roman Empire.

Perfect. My happiness was radiant.

Now across the bridge, the bus lumbered next to Galata (the quarter that was once designated to be exclusively for the Genoese merchants), and then into Beyoğlu (Pera), a settlement that is literally nestled against the back walls of Galata. This is where the famous Taksim district is that the Nobel Prize winning author, Orhan Pamuk, spent so much of his childhood. This was also where our hotel for the night was.

As apart of the package from the Balkan Heritage dig, they offered a deal for a certain amount of Euros, to see Istanbul over a span of two days. There were only five of us total who opted to participate in this ‘once in a lifetime’ opportunity. However, there was no way I would be historically satisfied with my Byzantine love in a matter of just two days. Absolutely no way. So I decided to hang with the other four for the two days, and then stay for the rest of the week to explore the rest of Constantinople myself. I figured that would be a nice amount of time to complete my checklist of Byzantine sites.

Knowing that I would stay for a while also allowed me to relax and bask in the ruins of the stage of my favorite story in all of history. What more could one want? Nothing. That is what I say.

First and foremost, I should mention that once we carried our luggage through the sinuous (and rather damp) alleyways of Pera, we reached our Hotel. It was called, Hotel Not Worth Mentioning, because we were all so tired and ready to pass out that none of us bothered to remember the place. We just went through a long night of unpaved trails and cacophonous tour guides. We just wanted to be somewhere quiet and rest.

If only we were allowed to do so.

Our English-esque speaking tour guide told us that we had a half hour before we had to be back on the bus to site-see Istanbul for the morning. Are you joking? Our eyes were about to fall out of our saggy/exhausted eyelids, and our irritation level was dangerously precarious. The last thing we all wished for… was to be back on that blasted bus being utterly lost in translation.

Well, we did pay for it...

And it would be a good broad overview...

So, putting on our positive caps, we decided not to let the lack of sleep hinder us from enjoying Istanbul. Now, it was time for breakfast – which was not included in the total cost. At this point my traveling partner for the day, Denise Kulp, and I, were in need of something to lend us more energy to get through the morning. We paid the five Euros for breakfast and were told to descend a shady looking flight of stairs that opened up into the basement of the hotel. When we got there we were surprised at what was displayed before us. Platters upon platters of food, both hot and cold; an assortment of juices and freshly baked breads; eggs that were segregated into baskets that were aptly marked ‘cooked 5 minutes’ and ‘cooked 3 minutes’. And then the coffee, oh, the coffee was remarkable. We were in such shock from the liveliness of the smells that we could not find the cups for the coffee. We were kids in a candy store because Bulgaria had scarred our appetites so ruthlessly. We had become accustomed to cucumbers, tomatoes, and mangy fruit. This breakfast was so remarkable; one could have thought that we were in Willy Wonka’s magical land of Turkish breakfast. As odd as that sounds, it was true. It was absolutely the ideal way to begin our first day there.

As 9 o’clock came around we headed back down the alleyways to our bus. The first stop was the Hippodrome. Before I dive into the bit about the Hippodrome, let me just state that this is one of the most amazing areas of old Constantinople. It is an area that composes of the Hagia Sophia, Blue Mosque (on the site of the Great Palace and baths), Justinian’s Basilica Cisterns, the Milion, and the Augustaion, which was a plaza dedicated to the Caesars of the empire. If there ever was an epicenter of Byzantium, it was here.


The Milion: The point where all roads in the Byzantine Empire begin



View of the Hagia Sophia from near where the Augustaion was situated

The neat thing about this area is that even though it is relatively built over, extensively, you can still get a good sense of how it must have looked during the days of the Byzantine Empire. For example, the track of what was once the Hippodrome, where the Blue’s and Green’s raced their horses along the circuit for glorious supremacy, is now a paved road that circumvents the middle island that use to display the empire’s most famous of monuments. Judith Herrin paints a nice summary of what it might have looked like: “…[the] Hippodrome became an open-air museum adorned with protecting, symbolic and victorious Greco-Roman images. Statues of Pagan gods (Zeus, Heracles), wild and fantastic animals, and rulers including Alexander the Great, Julius Caesar and Augustus, and of Rome, in the form of a wolf with Romulus and Remus. Four ancient bronze horses were set up above the starting gates at the entrance to inspire competitors…”


Tuthmosis III Obelisk from the Temple of Karnak, Luxor, Egypt

Unfortunately, all that remains from Byzantium today is the naked brick-obelisk of ‘the Purple Born’ Constantine VII, another ‘real’ obelisk from Karnak, and the stalk of the serpent column, which was dedicated after the Greek victory over the Persian’s at Plataea (497BC) from Delphi. The Venetians took the better-looking portion of that for themselves during the Fourth Crusade. Luckily, that does not matter, because the stories that took place within this area more than make up for the physical loss.


Obelisk from Karnak with Constantine VII's stripped Obelisk in the background

At its greatest moment of ridiculous spectacle, the Hippodrome was the stage for the celebration of Justinian the Great’s Consulship (this is before he became emperor). The world-renown Byzantinist, Lord Norwich, states the he had, “…20 lions, thirty panthers and a number of other wild exotic beasts that were fought and killed. In total 3,700 pounds of gold was spent on decorations, stage machinery, and on the people themselves”. At its lowest moments of ridiculous spectacle, the place witnessed the Nika Riot in 532AD, in which the place became the scene of a massive massacre. During this riot, Justinian nearly lost his diadem (imperial crown) due to his unpopularity with the citizens. However, after being consulted by his wife and empress, Theodora, he decided to have his two top generals take care of the dissonance that had amassed several days prior from the arrest of the leaders of the Blue and Green teams. Lord Norwich states, “…at a given signal, [the men of Belisarius and Mundus] burst in simultaneously on the shouting, screaming mob, taking it completely by surprise. No quarter was given: Greens and Blues were slaughtered without discrimination… Narses, had stationed his men at the principle exits with orders to cut down all who tried to escape… the angry shouts in the great amphitheater had given place to the groans of wounded and dying men; soon those grew quiet, until silence… its sands now sodden with the blood of the victims.”

The ground in which we had trodden that morning was once special and meant a great deal to the Byzantine identity.

It was chilling to think about these things while being within its presence.


A dismal day for a photograph. The Golden Horn has seen better weather

Eἰς Tὴν Πόλιν

Before I begin, if you are interested in the kinds of cuisine I experienced here in Bulgaria, click here. I had each of those at least once during my stay. Most of the cuisine revolves around cucumber, tomato, and some type of meat.


Since we had to excavate on Saturday morning, most of the crew stayed in Friday night. Three of us decided to at least stay up until midnight.

We ended up on the beach, looking out on the Black Sea, enjoying a bottle of fine Bulgarian wine. What more could one want? And yes, it is legal to drink on the beaches here.

As you can imagine, Saturday morning was... interesting. It was a little difficult to work at first, but after the first ten minutes of sweating profusely in the stagnant climate things became more manageable.

Truth be told, the manual labor has been a kind of a nostrum. I have not needed to drink a single cup of coffee here. The only exception is when I spent a day doing to-scale drawings of a wall. That is understandable. But for the most part, hoisting and sinking the pickaxe into the earth has essentially been my cup of coffee.

After a day of working in P8, it became deeper and deeper as the morning wore on. The soil became a lot easier to work with so our progress skyrocketed. Also, due to the exciting finds from the previous day, the leaders of the excavation team wanted us to continue down. Mostly as a precaution, just to make sure we were not going to skip over anything monumental.

So down we went.


Jean-Francois Delvaen tries to save money on airfare back to Australia... by digging

By the end of the day the pit was so deep we had to climb out. It was well over 10ft deep and this magical mortar layer that we were trying to find was nowhere in sight. By the end of the day we had found nothing but the nadir of a dolium, which surfaced right towards the end of the day, of course. We were half way to Hawaii and we were told to stop. P8 had become so deep that everyone took a couple minutes to have a photo-op in the world’s deepest pit. I assure you, photos of all these things will be up within the month.

I spent the rest of Saturday afternoon catching up on sleep and preparing for the final dinner that night, put on by Balkan Heritage. The meal was filled with numerous traditional dishes, Bulgarian wines, and of course some ‘ракия’ (rakia) with the salad. Rakia is essentially a wine/brandy that is very potent and remarkably tasty. It is made out of various fruits, and has a very intense feel with a pleasant aftertaste. The dinner was held at the Wine Club Varna. We tasted wines, received our parting gifts, and were given our field school certificates.


Our Last Bulgarian Supper: Wine Club Varna

Sunday was a relaxing day. I spent most of it figuring out future plans and visiting, one last time, friends that I was no longer going to see.

At around 7:30pm I boarded the bus to Istanbul.



Eἰς Tὴν Πόλιν = eis tan polin or 'to the city'... is tan pol... Is tan bul.

Not Constantinople.


Eastern-Block vehicle now sits at a rest-stop along the Bulgarian Coast

I know I should have learned this several years ago when I had the pleasure of experiencing a night bus from Singapore to Butterworth, Malaysia, but I suppose I thought that this time it would be different. It was different, without a doubt, but it was actually worse. It was a Russian tour bus that I had ended up on and the tour guy spoke in Russian, ad nauseum, for four hours straight. By then it was midnight and we reached a segment of the road that apparently Bulgaria never got around to paving. For a possible explanation click here.

The bus hurled itself up terrain, rocks and all, for a long while. Twisting and turning, this bus owned the road. It is possible that it swallowed up some small cars coming the opposite way. There is no way anybody could have dodged that bus coming right at them. The beast heaved and rumbled onward until we reached the boarder. Once we stopped, the Turkish inspectors got onboard and took our passports. They disappeared and we were to stay seated. Waiting in confusion, the bus driver got on the bus and moved it to a totally different building. This was where we were to receive our Visas... but I still did not have my passport.

As anyone would be, I became a little concerned. Fear of becoming a statistic has lurked within the back of my mind this whole trip. This, out of everywhere I have been thus far, was not the place to be without your passport. Moments before I reached the desk to have it stamped for entry, I got it back. Instant relief. The customs agent stamped it and I walked out of the rustic M*A*S*H* camp-styled building that it was all situated in, and back onto the bus.

The interesting thing to note is that once we reached Turkish roads, immediately after the customs compound, it was like driving on roads of silk. It was so nice. Not a single crack was apparent. After all the waiting, by the time we got moving again it was 2am. Now was my chance. I hadn't been able to steal a wink of sleep all night. I was now going to do my best to be a dream bandit. Huddled as close as possible to the window of the bus, I put my arms across one another, closed my eyes, and rested my head at an angle. Thank God Turkey invested in roads. I needed the sleep.

Early in the morning we traveled through Edirne, the place in which Mehmet II, or The Conqueror, departed to begin the final siege against the Byzantines in 1453AD. We passed through the rubble of his destruction around 6am.

Now, with the sun just rising, I had finally made it to the, “…land of Byzantium, Oh, thrice-happy City, eye of the universe, ornament of the world, star shining afar, beacon of this lower world…”

Time to get busy.


Looking south along the Bulgarian coast

This will be the last entry for at least a couple weeks. There are a lot of things I wish to accomplish here and I do not have my resources with me to do my blog entries any justice. I apologize in advance.

Hopefully the next time you visit this blog I will finally have pictures to accompany the writing, as well as the final entries!