Another early start with breakfast on route via one of the many bakers. We plonk on a bench at the side of the blue mosque munching a selection of pastries and buns. Weighted down with solid carbs, we stroll through the warm morning light to Haghua Sophia. Outside a guide offers his services at £70 per hour to which we politely decline.

Haghua Sophia was commissioned by the great emperor Justinain and is one of the most iconic Byzantine landmarks of the world. It began life in 537 as a church, converted to a mosque eight centuries later and declared a museum in 1935. It is large, much larger than we had expected. Inside it was dark and we had to stand for a minute to adjust to the dimness for fear of walking into a pillar or falling flat on our face. Morning sunlight flowed through the arched glass windows, but was swallowed almost immediately by the gloom among the high arches. Low hung chandeliers provided a little extra light but the scaffolding curtain prevented any appreciation for the true scale of the interior (click image to enlarge).  

The church is a blend of beautiful marble and stone with predominantly painted ceilings. Unusually, you are permitted access to the balcony some three floors above, providing superb views and time to study the ceiling detail.  Sadly over the years the rich interior has been robbed of its jewels or allowed to slowly fall under disrepair, so only a handful of the amazing mosaic images remain. We spent an hour wandering around, gazing at the interior and watching people play follow my leader.

Outside the sun was desperately trying to break through the clouds.  By now, the crowds have arrived and its getting manically busy. The police stand guard with several armoured trucks and barricades close by.  The local students dressed in ‘can I help’ t-shirts are scattered amongst the crowds.

We cross the road to a small brick building. The subterranean Byzantine cistern was commissioned by Emperor Justinian in 532. We descend to its cavernous depths and immediately, the sheer grandeur of the structure is quite breathtaking. 

Its dark, damp and humid.  For fear of slipping, we move along at a pace that would make a snail seem nippy. The huge cistern was constructed using 336 columns, many of which were salvaged from ruined temples and feature fine carved capitals.  The detail can still be seen and as you move further in to the cistern, you can see the unusual detail on the weeping pillars and the carved stone heads of medusa. 

Back in to the day light for a little baking and a drink of water at the German Fountain.

The crowds to enter the Blue Mosque were reasonable, so we cease the opportunity. We follow the signs for the visitors entrance and stand in line. It gives us time to admire the long rectangular central space with its delicately beautiful marble minarets. 

Undercover, a long line of taps and chairs for ritual cleansing and purification. Before attending prayers in the mosque, muslims must wash hands, lower arms, nose, mouth, ears, feet and ankles. The abundant amounts of hot water required for such ablutions are often beyond the means of most households, hence the importance of the public facility.

Slowly, we edged forward and just before entering we are handed a disposable plastic bag for our shoes. Inside…well, we were gutted. Once more, another restoration project, which hindered our view if the domes.  The four elephant foot pillars, were huge beyond belied impose their disproportionate dimensions on the interior. We moved to the edge and we were able to see a small section of the wonderful cascade of domes covered in İznik tiles.  We can only imagine how beautiful it must be once the restoration is complete. Or at least we do hope so. 

Later on we find that UNESCO and a number of other world organisations have given Turkey a massive nudge. If they don’t start investing in protecting their heritage and maintaining tourist sites then they will be delisted. It explains why every monument resembles a construction site!

Time to head back via Arasta Bazaar, a small but unpopulated and civil collection of shops. Through the alley way and into the mosaic museum.  Back in the 1930s and 1950s, they uncovered a stunning mosaic pavement in the bazaar featuring hunting and mythological scenes. The small museum displays the mosaics along with some mosaics from around the city. 

It is Sunday afternoon and the open grassland behind us starts to fill with families. To be honest, its a busy spot come day or night and a brilliant place to people watch, observe the culture and chat to folk.  Its picnic in the park time and after the cracking of a twig for a fire or coals for the grill, plumes of smoke start to rise. 

Fish and chicken are barbecued. Picnic is laid on carpets or blankets and cushions. A meal of couscous, tomato salad, yogurt dip, and bread seems to be the popular meal of choice. There are no knives, forks or spoons and they eat Berber style, using their right hand only. Using their thumb and two fingers. The thumb squeezing the food into a ball solid enough to dip carefully into the yogurt.  Alternatively, a piece of bread is torn and used as a scoop. 

With full bellies, the woman play with the children and chat amongst themselves. The men retire to the seafront and cast a line in the hope of catching supper.  Alternatively, they walk over to Vin and check out his credentials. He is a good ice breaker along with Mac n Tosh and we have many a conversation, which always ends with thumbs up.