Today's big event was a tour of Topkapı Sarayı, the foremost palace of the Ottoman Sultans for the first four hundred years of their residence in Istanbul, led by NYU's Leslie Pierce. We couldn't have asked for a better guide; she knows every part of the complex and its history, and related it all with so much enthusiasm. It's such an incredibly huge and beautiful set of buildings, I'm having trouble deciding which pictures to post. Here are the ones that best capture what interested me about the palace.
God, was this place gilded! Every surface not marbled, painted, or tiled was covered with gold. This is the the outside of the building where the sultan's ministers met; he often attended in secret, hidden behind a (surprise!) golden screen.
One of the most interesting and compelling parts of the palace, for me, was the use of columns. Every column in this picture is different, and very much so: greens, purples, reds, whites, and drastically different patterns as well (striped, spotted, solid, etc.). Imagining the various origins of the columns, which clearly all came from different Byzantine monuments (which themselves could have appropriated the columns from even earlier sources), is one of the palace's attractions for me.
Just try to count the number of tile patterns used in this one small niche of the harem (the innermost part of the palace complex, NOT some kind of stable for the sultan's concubines). The tiles are just incredible, and pretty much occupy all wall space in Topkapı.
A receiving room for the sultan, though this was in the harem, so it's not clear who the sultan would've received here. Even his ministers and foreign ambassadors would not be able to enter the harem, so I guess just select family members.
A final interesting aesthetic feature: stained glass. As far as I know, it's not an orginally Islamic art form, but we noticed it in Yeni Camii as well. I don't know of any Byzantine examples either, so maybe borrowed from Western Europe?
One of the most breathtaking rooms. I wish I could remember what it was; Prof. Shields described it as "another room with tiles", and I think that's about as accurate as I can get.Leaving the palace, we decided to go on one of our more lengthy expeditions across Istanbul: down Divan Yolu to Ataturk Bulvari, then across the Golden Horn to Beyoglu. On our way, we stumbled upon yet another Theodosian monument that I became way too excited about: the ruined triumphal arch from the Forum of Theodosius:
If you think the design on the column is weird, you're right. Alternatively called the tear drop or peacock eye pattern it's a late Roman/early Byzantine motif that no one has been able to sufficiently explain. Pretty cool to just see it on the side of the road. But that's Istanbul.It's also Istanbul to have a major road going under a fourth century aqueduct, that of Valens:
This thing is huge.After a LOT of traffic-dodging, we finally made it to the bridge. While crossing, a shoe-shine guy dropped one of his brushes going the opposite way from us. I got his attention, and gave him back his brush. He was very appreciative, and we went our separate ways. Five seconds later though, he tapped me on the shoulder, and gestured for me to put my foot on his little stand, where he was already setting up his brushes/oils/whatever shoes are shined with. Yeah, my shoes are pretty crappy but still, a free shoe shine! Cool, right? WRONG. At the end, he made it clear that he expected 10-20 lira for it. Neither of us were very happy. I gave him a five, and went away pissed, out of cash for the day, and somewhat jaded. This was the famous Turkish hospitality? I guess I should've made it clear at the beginning that I was not going to pay for a shoe-shine (do people with real shoes even get them?) of all things. Oh well. Another Turkish lesson learned.
We got back about an hour or two ago, and it is, again, time for my nap. Thanks for reading, and I'll talk to you soon!
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