One of those days. Topkapi palace, former residence of the sultans, is a nice building in the quadrangles-around-gardens style. However, rather than being set up as they might have looked when they were in use, most of the rooms are filled with objects in glass cases, and I quickly found myself dragged down by a sense of surfeit. There’s only so much mindbogglingly ornate silverware, robes and jewellery you can look at before you just want to get out and stare at a nice plain brick wall for a while. I didn’t go into the harem - had no desire to see a place where women were jailed away from the world, however many schemes they managed to put into effect from the inside.

Things I liked: some silver dessert cups, shaped like ornate fruit, on stems in a cluster attached to a fancy base; a set of clear rock crystal pots and jugs; Turkish swords and yataghans (yay!); a European broadsword, which at about 7 ft long was the biggest fucking sword I’ve ever seen - no idea how you’d use it - like a pole arm?; and a little square pavilion with delicate coloured-glass windows all the way around the top of the walls, making it feel like a jewelbox. It might have been the pavilion for circumcision, but I’m not sure. Speaking of circumcision, near the bazaar I saw costumes for the occasion in shops - white suits with robes and crowns. Circumcision is a big deal in Turkey, taking place when a boy is between 7 and 10, marking his entrance into manhood and full participation in the Islamic faith (interestingly, circumcision isn’t mentioned in the Koran). The procedure signifies purification.
And girls? Well, at least according to this book, it’s traditional for a Turkish woman to slap her daughter when she has her first period. I’ve heard the slap is a Jewish tradition, too, to discourage the daughter from ‘being bad’. Is this something we can really blame men for, or do we women turn our claws upon ourselves for some unfathomable fucked-up reason of our own? Go on, treat your son like a little king and treat your daughter like shit - then wonder why he thinks he has the right to start a war some day, and why she has a nervous breakdown.

Sick of the sultans and their loot - including, of all things for a Muslim to steal, the gold cover formerly over the Kaaba stone in Mecca - I headed for Aya Sofya, Church of the Divine Wisdom, with the intention of paying my respects.

On the way, in a souvenir shop, I saw a picture of an interesting monster - or was it a monster? A sort of Lamia-cross-amphiptere, a woman with long black hair and horns, whose body becomes the body of a snake and curls around, creating a two-headed being, half-woman, half-serpent. For legs, she has little snakes. I was intrigued, and nearly bought the picture then and there, but it was rather large and a bit gaudy. Assuming she was a folkloric creature and that I’d be able to find out about her and get a smaller, better picture, or some jewellery in her shape, I left it, and made my way to Aya Sofya.

The outside is grey, rounded, and makes me think of an icecream sundae with a thick layer of dust. Inside, the dome is certainly impressive, but it’s full of scaffolding. And…the Divine Wisdom ain’t here, at least not for me. I can’t feel anything. I begin to suspect she was down in that souvenir shop.
Taking my life in my hands, I creep up the uneven, dangerously steep ramp of smooth, slippery stones (no handrail) to the upper gallery. This time, even the sure-footed old ladies are clinging to the walls. Across the dim distance, there’s a mosaic of Mary, wearing black, holding the infant Jesus. The image is dwarfed by the immense space around it, giving the impression that you’re looking through the wrong end of a telescope.
I somehow manage to get down again, with much cursing, but at least without falling and sliding the whole way on my backside

Down in the foyer there’s a sign advertising an exhibition: Holy Dance of Wood, Marble and Silk!

Holy dance of wood, marble and silk, Batman!

I’m tired, and I don’t think my eyes can stand the sight of more luxurious artefacts. I go back down the streets the way I came, intent on finding Snakewoman and asking the shop owner about her, but the shop is closed. There’s nothing to do but head back to the Buyuk Londra and admire the chandeliers again.

Only two days to go!