Showing posts with label han. Show all posts
Showing posts with label han. Show all posts

Friday, 31 October 2025

2025 Istanbul

Welcome to old Istanbul
Welcome to old Istanbul

12.10.25

Another trip back to the past.  In Istanbul again, 32 years later.  Given the enormous strides that Turkey has made economically in that time, I suspect things will be rather different.  Reading my description of that visit, I am also struck by how little I saw.  This time, I am overwhelmed by how much there is to see, judging by the research I have done – mostly from the Blue Guide to the city.  Which ironically I had when I came before but obviously didn’t read much (although I do mention it).

Last time, I stayed in a small hotel, probably by Taksim Square, judging by my descriptions then.  This time, we have rented an old wooden-fronted house in Beyoğlu, Külhan Çıkmazı (cul-de-sac).  Very wacky design, steep internal stairs, big rooms.  Great position though, in the heart of the real Istanbul, or one of them.

Sitting in the Limon Cihangir café for lunch – self-styled “Kahvaltı Evi”, or “breakfast house”.  We saw this place on the way to the local Carrefour (shades of Tbilisi).  Wonderful district around here.  Very hilly.  Reminds me of Paris in its architecture, plus Lisbon for its gradients.  Dozens of cats everywhere.  No dogs, which is worrying.  This place was packed with families out for Sunday breakfast – a good sign.

Afterwards, out to İstiklal Caddesi – bustling, looks like a parallel universe version of Oxford Street.  Big shops everywhere, but few Western brands.  The picturesque T2 tram passes, looking rather small and ridiculous.  Along to Taksim Square, which I realise is the equivalent of Trafalgar Square, the main locus for public demos.

An elegant gallery off İstiklal Avenue
An elegant gallery off İstiklal Avenue

Then back along İstiklal Caddesi, passing through some of the small side galleries.  One has probably 100,000 small imitation jewels and ornaments on sale.  Like the market by Tbilisi station.  Who buys this stuff?

As we tuck in to the richesse of our breakfast platter – a Limon special of some 12 dishes – the muezzin in the mosque next to us provides the backing track.  As well as various cheeses, scrambled eggs, salad, honey, fried breads, and black olives we had kavut – a traditional Kurdish breakfast paste, and murtuğa, another Kurdish paste, plus muhammara: tomatoes, olive oil and walnut, breadcrumb paste.  All fab, and incredibly cheap.  On the way here, we passed five or six other cafés, nearly all full.  This is obviously where locals go for their meals.  

Obelisk and minarets
Obelisk and minarets

In the Hippodrome of Constantinople, by the broken obelisk.  After light rains, brilliant sunshine.  To here on the T1 tram, after spending 20 minutes buying Istanbulkarts once I had managed to navigate the Turkish-language prompts on the ticket machine.  By the Blue Mosque, six huge minarets soaring into the sky.  Sitting now between Hagia Sophia and the Topkapı Palace.  Past the wall towers marching down to the sea, the Bosphorus, and ships and tankers powering by.  Big queue for Blue Mosque, no queue for Hagia Sophia… very busy around here – all out for a Sunday stroll – and why not?

Back home, after some fun on the T1 tram.  We walked to the stop at Gülhane Park, and took the T1 when it appeared.  Great.  But it turned out it stopped at Eminönü.  We wanted to go further, but that tram would leave on another platform, across from our tram.  Given the speed at which these behemoths hurtle around, chancing it by crossing their tracks seemed unwise.  So we went out through the turnstiles (after an unhelpful station person gave no help), then crossed at the lights to the other platform, and paid our 35 (about 70p again.  Better safe than sorry.

Istanbul's Montmartre
Istanbul's Montmartre

So, a slightly strange day, in that we didn’t formally visit anything.  But I think that I have a good feel for two contrasting areas of Istanbul: here, around Beyoğlu, which turns out to be a kind of Turkish Montmartre, complete with hills, trendy cafés and rubbish.  The other area is that of the big beasts – Hagia Sophia, the Blue Mosque, and Topkapı Palace.  They seem much grander than in my memory: Hagia Sophia is massive and monumental; the Blue Mosque soaring and majestic.  Even the Hippodrome has been spruced up beyond recognition.  For the better, I’d say.  

The transport system is immeasurably better: more efficient, and more complete in its coverage.  Which is great for me and tourists, in all kinds exciting ways.  Also vastly more cafés and restaurants than before.  Lots more money around – Teslas intermixed with big Mercedes.  Road network expanded – on the way from the airport we drove along some very long tunnels, passing under the city’s hills, which sped things up.  We also saw huge boars at the side of the road – a reminder that much of Turkey remains wooded and even wild.  Fascinating to see them so near to the acme of long-term urbanisation, Istanbul.

13.10.25

Hagia Sophia.  We are herded up the steep steps to the gallery – no access to the church/mosque itself.  From here we can gaze.  Not too bad – the majesty is evident, the huge dome, the pillars, the chandeliers floating above the blue-green sea of the vast carpet like holy jellyfish.  New, I think, the discreet covering of frescoes above what was the altar.  Better than scraping them off.

Hagia Sophia
Hagia Sophia

Hard to experience the place intensely enough.  We stand, we stare, we move on.  Certainly puts every other church and cathedral in context.  Just noted the capitals of the columns in the gallery – with feathery fronds – an unusual expression of the composite order.

A feathery Composite capital
A feathery composite capital

Interesting the Viking graffito – that urge to say “I was here”. Reminds me of Egypt, the Greek graffiti on the temple at Dendera.  Some fine mosaics remain, especially of Emperor John II Comnenos and Empress Irene, 12th century.  Beautiful mosaic of Jesus, Mary and John the Baptist, which caught my eye last time.  Amazingly subtle skin hues on the face produced by tiny mosaic stones, they seem painted.

To the Blue Mosque, where there is a huge queue…  In the courtyard, the magnificence is nonetheless evident.  Inside, so spacious.  Four massive columns, four great arches, hemispheres everywhere, sprouting like mushrooms.  Strikingly consistent decoration over the whole surface.  Gives a very unified feel.  Never seen such big columns.  Because there are only four to support the dome.  Western churches have more columns spreading the load.  But the great Mimar Sinan's pupil, Sedefkar Mehmed Agha, really knew what he was doing here.

One of four massive columns holding up the Blue Mosque
One of four massive columns holding up the Blue Mosque

To Hafiz Mustafa café for tea/coffee.  Noodly music in the background.  Fine array of Turkish sweets.  Tea served with a cover bearing a turkish delight; turkish coffee comes with a glass of water – and two turkish delights.  All good quality.

A view of Europe from Asia
A view of Europe from Asia

On the boat to Üsküdar - Asia. Ship holds 600 – an A380 on water.  Sun out among clouds.  Heaven.  A fifteen minute trip, great views.  In Üsküdar, along to the Boğaziçi Balık Ekmek restaurant.  Mainly fish, as its name suggests.  Great view across the strait.  Muezzin and boats’ horns vie for aural attention.  Interesting group next to us: Asian, but not Chinese, Japanese or Korean.  Kazakh maybe?  Income rising, direct flights… Or maybe Mongolian, in a similar situation.

After lunch (not spectacular), a walk around Üsküdar.  Very lively – nothing touristy here.  Reminded me of the backstreets of Fethiye.  Tranquil Yeni Valide mosque (but only saw the outside).  Now on the ferry, I hope the right one (we boarded quickly).

Almost Venice in Karaköy
Almost Venice in Karaköy

It wasn’t, because it went to Karaköy, but that wasn’t actually a problem, since that location was nearer to our accommodation, and didn’t require further transport, just a walk along the shore north from the quay.  The area felt like Venice, which is no surprise given the real similarities.  Our boat was like a vaporetto writ large, and the journey just a bigger move between localities on the water – one that just happened to be a factual journey between Asia and Europe.  Such is the quotidian wonder of Istanbul.

14.10.25

In the Basilica Cistern.  Even grander than I remember.  It looks like a huge 21st century artwork.  For example, I hadn’t noticed the corinthian capitals – which no one would ever see…  That’s real art.
 
Heavenly mathematical architecture
Heavenly mathematical architecture

Failing to negotiate a taxi, we are walking to Süleymaniye mosque.  By the Grand (covered) bazaar, Nuruosmaniye mosque.  Amazing arches on each side of the building, the full width of the mosque.  After the covered bazaar, a real change of scene: lots of specialist shops selling one thing: buckles, toys, pots, glass boxes, all very cheap.

That's what I call an arch
That's what I call an arch

To the mosque, passing Sinan’s tomb.  And now in Mimar Sinar café, with stunning views of Süleymaniye mosque, the Golden Horn, and the Bosphorus.  Sun trying to shine through the clouds.  Amazing view to the left.  Up the Golden Horn, the car bridge, the metro line bridge, then Galata bridge leading to the Bosphorus.  Asian side hazy, the new and growing financial district wreathed in smog.  To the right, the Süleymaniye mosque.  Its subtle architectural layers visible, surging up to the great dome floating about it all.  

One problem here: wasps, lots of them.  Fortunately, the café is prepared: a man with an electrocuting racquet – very effective as it crackles wasps to death…  In Süleymaniye mosque.  Magnificent; the striped arches of grey and red lend nice variety.  The great pillars discreet.  Big muqarnas (honeycomb vaults) in the corners.  

In Süleymaniye mosque, even the muqarnas are big
In Süleymaniye mosque, even the muqarnas are big

Long walk through Old Istanbul (of which more later), then T1 tram to Tophane, up the hill to our local restaurant zone, not to Limon, but Cihangir Manticisi – for three kinds of manti, plus çi borek, green beans and tea.

So, to reflect on the day, something hard to do calmly on the hoof, mostly a huge success.  The cistern was not too crowded, and so retained most of its mystery.  It’s an odd place: unmissable, and yet minimalist – there’s almost nothing there except the implausible fact of its existence and survival.  It’s the perfect sight for a mathematician – all x-y coordinates and x=y diagonals.  The modern visit well laid out, with a pathway to the weird Gorgon heads, then back.

Mimar Sinan's tomb, designed by himself
Mimar Sinan's tomb, designed by himself

From there, we failed to find a taxi to Süleymaniye mosque.  So we walked.  Through one side of the covered market – which we will visit properly on Friday – then up north, then east to the mosque.  To give some energy for proper enjoyment of the masterpiece, we took tea/coffee at Mimar Sinan café – just by his own tomb.  Stupendous views across the confluent waters, and of the growing number of skyscrapers on both the European and Asian sides.  I predict Istanbul will become like Shanghai in a decade or so, with thickets of high-rise blocks.

A view across the Golden Horn, towards Istanbul's future
A view across the Golden Horn, towards Istanbul's future

Then to the mosque.  Even from the outside its massive power is evident.  Inside, even more so.  Much better than the Blue Mosque, which isn’t even really blue.  Süleymaniye varied and attractive.  Also fewer tourists here compared to the Blue Mosque, which was heaving and smelly – all those stinky tourist tootsies exposed to the air.

Inside the tomb of Sultan Suleiman I
Inside the tomb of Sultan Suleiman I

Then to the türbeler - the tombs: first of Sultan Suleiman I, with its circumferential band of calligraphy, and multiple tombs – sultans wearing what looks rather like a chef’s toque.  The other türbe, of Hürrem Sultan, his wife (also known as Roxelana), more intimate, covered in very fine Iznik blue tiles – a big discovery for me on this trip.

Inside the tomb of Hürrem Sultan
Inside the tomb of Hürrem Sultan

After the tombs, we made our way back down the hill into the old heart of the city here; passing along Fuat Paşa Caddesi.  We had already taken this route coming, noting the weird Ottoman radio/TV/microwave tower (well, Beyazit Tower actually, but bristling now with all kinds of incongruous hi-tech growths).  Alongside the road, on the east, a huge building site.  I fear this is likely to be the fate of much of the nearby area, which is a warren of streets and lanes.  Which is why I was really keen to see the Büyük Valide Han in the heart of this area.  

Once this was an important inn for travellers to Istanbul.  Today, it is an extraordinary old building, built around a courtyard, which has a mosque in it.  The outer buildings are now workshops and shops, on two levels (sometimes three).  There are stairs to take you up to the first floor, that feel rather like those of a Cambridge quadrangle and its student rooms.  But upstairs here takes you to a place that is clearly on the edge of falling down.  

Inside the Büyük Valide han
Inside the Büyük Valide han

It is dark, with few lights, and all kinds of junk piled in the corridors.  On each side there is an amazing variety of small rooms.  A few are surprisingly glamorous showrooms.  Others are simple workspaces, with people cutting cloth, or making jewellery.  Some are half-bare rooms full of tools and equipment, a few men working with pieces of metal.  One or two are on two floors, with internal stairs rising to another level.  In one corner, there is a café, supposedly with a fine view of the sea.  Since we had already enjoyed a fine view from Mimar Sinan café, we gave this a miss.

Atmospheric corridors in Büyük Valide han's upper storey
Atmospheric corridors in Büyük Valide han's upper storey

The place feels like a lost, or rather vanishing, world, a reminder of similar workshops that have existed across Eurasia for thousands of years.  It was a privilege to see it now, as a still living space.  But for how much longer? The huge development nearby seemed like a premonition of the fate this one might soon undergo.  The value of the land around will be too high for this simple world to continue.  Surely the developers will move in and tear down this hidden magic realm…

Ancient buildings in the backstreets of old Istanbul
Ancient buildings in the backstreets of old Istanbul

To savour this experience to the full, when we emerged from the han, we carried on down Çakmakçılar Yokuşu (meaning "slope") and then turned down Fincancılar Sokak, past some ancient buildings made of crude stone blocks and mortar.  The streets were narrow, and packed with people – but not tourists.  This is where the Istanbullular shop.  One clear indication of that was the presence of prices on goods: (a) they were shown (unlike in the more famous bazaars) and (b) they were incredibly low (again, unlike the prices demanded in touristic locations).  The sights and smells here were wonderful: goods packed to the ceiling, spices and foodstuffs spread out for customers to inspect.  This was a timeless scene, one whose roots stretched back thousands of years, and familiar to me from my travels in Central Asia and India.

Sights and smells of old Istanbul
Sights and smells of old Istanbul

We followed Sabuncu Hanı Sokak to the Egyptian Bazaar, and skirted around the latter.  The air here was full of the rich smell of coffee – there was a shop of the Kurukahveci Mehmet Efendi chain.  We turned left along Hasırcılar Caddesi to reach our goal: Rüstem Pasha mosque.  Alas, we had come too late, and it was closed for midday prayers.  Moving past it, and turning right brought us to the main street by the Golden Horn, not far from Eminönü and our T1 tram stop.  That took us across to Galata quickly, and could easily bring us back to try again another day.

15.10.25

A strange day.  Up at 7am as usual, down to the T1, then to Gülhane for a change.  The reason being today we visited the mighty Topkapı Palace – literally the “Palace of the Gun Gate”.  Unlike our visits to Hagia Sophia and the cistern, where we received QR codes for our money (big money), for the palace we had to be escorted in.  This meant meeting out guide outside – specifically the City Windows kiosk inside the Chimney Bistro, in Soğuk Çeşme Sokak.  The guide left every 30 minutes, and when we got there the first group had left, so we joined a growing band of tourists milling around, waiting for the next tour.  

Hagia Irene, not open, was left in peace
Hagia Irene, not open, was left in peace

We eventually moved off, and passed under the ceremonial gate of the palace.  Then came the usual security.  Along the way, we passed Hagia Irene, another ancient Byzantine church – not open for visits, alas.  The gate into the second court was rather disappointing – looking like some cheap Disney knockoff.

Multilevel harem accommodation
Multilevel harem accommodation

The guide then took us into the harem – and abandoned us there, since this was a guided entry, not a guided tour.  It was a real warren of little rooms, some single storey, some double, and a few triple.  The decoration varied enormously, reaching a climax in the Valide rooms – mum ("valide" means "mother", and refers to the mother of the reigning sultan) wanted something superior – and those of the sultan.  Lots of gold here – shades of Trump’s megalomaniac vulgarity.  The saving grace is that Sinan designed the rooms for the sultan and the Valide.

Beautiful, but slightly over the top
Beautiful, but slightly over the top

It was hard keeping track of where we were and what we were seeing.  Things were made worse by the fact that I have picked up some kind of cold/flu [narrator: it was Covid], probably in the tram, which saps my energy.  Staggering through the harem in this feverish state was like some crazy dream, and was certainly not conducive to appreciating the beauties.

I seem to recall I had a similar reaction to the palace when I was here 32 years ago, even though I was not ill that I remember.  What’s particularly annoying is that this afternoon I had planned to visit the Kariye mosque – actually the Chora Byzantine church, which apparently has some of the finest mosaics from this time.  It's quite a way out from the centre, and not something to contemplate in my current state.  Ah well, something to look forward to in the future.

16.10.25

On the Long Bosphorus Tour with the Sehir Hatlar boat, 640 for six-hours return ticket.  Pretty good.  Sky covered, but some sun promised.  As usual, we took the T1, this time to Eminönü, in what is now “our” tram.”  Around 100 on the ship currently, which can hold 411 according to a notice on the wall.  There’s something wonderfully primeval about boats.  After all, the basic idea of a thing floating on water hasn’t changed for thousands of years.

Ortaköy mosque by Bosphorus bridge
Ortaköy mosque by Bosphorus bridge

Past Dolmabahçe palace, past the baroque Ortaköy mosque by the Bosphorus bridge.  Near Rumelian Fortress, a flash of dolphin fins.  Lots of river traffic, a real working waterway.  Further north, several fishing boats, hauling in their nets.  Clearly plenty of fish here.  Before, one of the many giant Turkish flags on the hills had eagles (?) soaring around it.  Very green, both sides wooded, with attractive/wealthy villages along the way.

To Kavak Baba restaurant in Anadolu Kavağı for a good fish meal, with a view of the sea.  Interesting that, like Azerbaijan, the toilets have bidets as standard.  But these are built in to the toilet, controlled by a knob to the side.  Very civilised.  Waiting by our ship, which leaves at 3pm.  Wandering through the village, mostly deserted, with few in the restaurants, there's a particular, end-of-season melancholy, as the cold wind rises.

Under the bridge to the Black Sea
Under the bridge to the Black Sea

On the way back, classic framing of tankers sailing out to the Black Sea, under the great, final bridge.  Some big ships: 150,000 tons and more…  Sarıyer: an attractive village on the European side.  Lots of wooden buildings, which makes sense in a seismic zone.  The Asian side here much wilder, less construction.

In the cabin, there are screens with ads.  Great way to lean new words.  Indeed, immersion in Istanbul is highly stimulating.  Striking how many ads are for the city of Istanbul.  Similarly, around the city, there are lots of hoardings and covered scaffolding with the name of Istanbul’s mayor – İmamoğlu – even though (because?) he is currently suspended from office…

Coming home at dusk
Coming home at dusk

Once again, the sun is out – it has come and gone all day.  Currently, the villages are illuminated prettily.  There is a very particular style to the shoreside houses – lots of verandahs, pillars, arches.  Rather like small-scale versions of Dolmabahçe palace.  They look rather expensive…

17.10.25

Aqueduct of Valens, straddling traffic
Aqueduct of Valens, straddling traffic

Out to the Aqueduct of Valens, by bus. Then down to Şehzade mosque – another Sinan number.  Lots of swirling red and white arches, hypnotic.  Through the Covered Bazaar – too trashy and glitzy for my taste.  To another of the old hans – Büyük Yeni Han.  And it is indeed büyük - big, even with the later division cutting it off partway.  Three floors, and even more dilapidated than the nearby Büyük Valide han. 

Büyük Yeni han
Büyük Yeni han

Back now in the accommodation after a long morning spent walking.  The aqueduct was impressive, not least because it has been cleaned and repaired recently, as seen in a video shown on the boat yesterday.  But it’s a strange thing: you go there and see it, and then...what?  There are only so many ways to look at a large piece of ancient infrastructure.

Sinan's hypnotic Şehzade mosque
Sinan's hypnotic Şehzade mosque

The walk afterwards took us past the main city hall – rather uninspiring – and past the Şehzade mosque – a hidden gem, rather off the beaten track.  Sadly, we didn’t have time for the türbeler there.  Past lots of university faculty buildings.  Beyazit Square spacious and attractive in its asymmetry.  Big Turkish flags flying there.  Passed quickly through the covered bazaar – just little of interest there.  Wandered around the real old bazaar nearby, and found another han.  

Back in the real Istanbul bazaar
Back in the real Istanbul bazaar

One thing: in many parts the pavements are made of concrete laid down wet, with a few lines scored to make flagstone-like patterns.  But almost everywhere there are footprints – human and animal – of those in a hurry, who crossed wet cement anyway, to become caught in the act forever.

Out to the nearby Istanbul Museum of Modern Art.  Very swish – and with double security checks.  White walls, plenty of space.  The English translations of the info for each picture very fluent, unlike many foreign galleries.  Some good black and white photos of Istanbul locality not far from here, and others of the countryside – the harsh life under the harsh sun.

Welcome to the Infinity Room
Welcome to the Infinity Room

One striking video piece: Refik Anadol Infinity Room - Bosphorus – a constantly shifting immersive experience, created using environmental data from around the Bosphorus to generate graphic images in a mirrored space – swirling forms that are striking if disconcerting.  The long-held chords emphasise the infinite, floating feeling.  Very effective, unlike many such works.  Also haunting, “Beirut” – video of the windows of the hotel where Rafik Hariri was assassinated.  Nice library on the ground floor, with an exhibition of the works of Renzo Piano, the architect of the gallery itself.

Outside, in the entrance, a blue medallion with an apotropaic eye – of which we saw hundreds around the village yesterday.  Et in Arcadia ego

18.10.25 Somewhere over Hungary

This was an unusual trip in many ways.  A return, but almost to an entirely different place, given the huge changes between then and now.  Also hugely different my travelling.  Back then, I’m not sure I did a great job of hunting out the real Istanbul.  This time, at least, I had a better idea of what was there.  It doubtless helped that this time it was also was much easier to get to these places – transport networks in Istanbul are now dense, if uneven.

Unusual, too, in that I booked three visits – Hagia Sophia, the cistern and Topkapı palace.  In the event, the first two reservations probably weren’t necessary, but it made the days easier.  Shows at least how tourism has become organised – and outrageously expensive (£105 per person for those three sites).  You can’t blame them, but I fear Istanbul will soon have a very bad reputation with travellers because of this price gouging.

Which is a pity, because it is, of course, an amazing place.  One that I feel I have gained a better understanding of thanks to this trip.  For example, the fact that even more than usual, the map is a lie: the city is one of the most three-dimensional urban places on the planet, with multiple steep hills popping up all over the place.  Lisbon may have them too, but not as many, and in as many forms.  I have also understood that the key reference points in the city are the mosques (obviously), and that Mimar Sinan is the world's greatest architect, bar none.

The other big revelation for me was the area around Beyoğlu and Cihangir.  Such vibrant places – not touristic at all, but full of Istanbullular.  Definitely where I would aim to return to for future accommodation.  Of course, there was rubbish, and cats, everywhere in these places too. And precarious building works on every street.  Messy but a sign that Istanbul is still growing, that this huge supercity – 16 million inhabitants and counting – has only just got started.  Who knows how far it will go?  I aim to find out over the next few years.  I’m also keen to explore the east of the country – Trabzon and beyond.  It looks incredibly beautiful – very Georgian and Armenian in its landscapes.  Still so much to discover in Turkey...

Saturday, 12 April 2025

2025 Sarajevo

A single mortar shell murdered 66 people here
A single Serbian mortar shell murdered 68 people here in 1994

24.3.25 Sarajevo

Sitting in Ćevabdžinica Petica Ferhavatović, having ordered ćevapčići, of course.  Half empty now, but when I passed here an hour ago it was jam-packed – as were many other restaurants in this zone, in Baščaršija.  I thought this was strange for such an early time, but then I understood: it’s Ramadan, and everyone is starving, so eat as soon as they can, at sunset.

The presence of Islam is marked here – minarets and mosques abound.  It feels distinctly different even at night, when it’s hard to see things properly.  I arrived here just before 6pm, after an easy journey from Stansted, then a taxi waiting for me at the airport.  The driver was concerned because he couldn’t find my accommodation’s address on Google Maps.  I said to just drop me off nearby.  On the way here were passed several vehicles broken down in the middle of the road.  Needless to say, my driver just sounded his horn and drove on the other side of the road, pushing his way through.  Surprising amount of traffic on the back roads.

In fact my driver was right: it is hard to find Tabaci 5, the address of my accommodation.  When he dropped me off, I wandered around some fairly insalubrious streets, beginning to feel I had made a big mistake by choosing this place.  In the end, a helpful bloke told me it was further along the street – which runs alongside the River Miljacka.  In fact, my abode was pretty good: clean, warm, with a nice lady host next door, all for 100 euros for four nights.  

Judging by all the umbrellas passing outside, it is raining, although quite mild.  The weather is incredibly unpredictable here – all the mountains, I suppose.  I have stupidly been looking at the forecasts for days, and watched with horror as sunny days gave way to rainy ones of varying heaviness.  Ah well.  The big problem is that I plan to drive to Mostar and Blagaj on Wednesday, and the through of doing that in torrential rain does not appeal…

25.3.25

During the night I could hear the monstrous low rumble of the trams as they passed a few metres from my room.  Not unpleasant. Still raining, but less, and even some chance of sun.  The weather here is even more changeable than in the UK…

The spot where World War One was triggered
The spot where World War One was triggered

Now in the Mooncalf Sarajevo for a Bosnian coffee.  Some of the people here are speaking Turkish – a language I also heard on the streets.   Not that there are many out yet – too wet and cold.  But that seems the right weather to visit the spot where World War One was ignited.  Down by the Latin Bridge, on the wall of what is now a small museum commemorating that fact, there is a plaque;  Basically, it says “here stood the man who started World War One”.  Pretty staggering that pure chance led to that moment – the driver of the Archduke’s car was not told of a changed route, and took a turning down this narrow street, where other cars were blocking the way.  Gavrilo Princip was standing at the exact point, with a gun.  He lifted the weapon and shot the Archduke and his consort at point blank range.  They died soon afterwards.  Princip was only 19, and thus escaped the death penalty.

Wandering around this morning, looking for an ATM.  But judging by the reviews (yes, people review ATMs these days), most charge outrageous fees – around £4 per transaction.  So, unusually, I went to a currency exchange booth, checking first what the rate was at several.  Actually seems a better option in this instance.

A former han, ancient inn for Muslim travellers
A former han, ancient inn for Muslim travellers

Walked out to Hotel Europe, which is where I will collect my rental car tomorrow – from its garage, presumably.  Ugly building.  Next to it, Ferhadija mosque, one of the many quite large ones here.  Also passed Gazi Husrev-Beg’s museum, an old madrasah.  Nearby an old han – a roadside inn for Muslim travellers, now converted into shops, but still displaying its traditional form around an open courtyard.  Even under the rain it’s an attractive area.  I imagine it’s pretty crowded in summer.

Up to Logavina Street.  It’s the subject of a remarkable book “Besieged” by Barbara Demick.  The story of the people living on this street during the siege of Sarajevo, it’s a superb piece of journalism that brings home the reality of the terrible war by telling the stories of ordinary people on just one street.

The unassuming Logavina Street
The unassuming Logavina Street

The road is nothing special, which is the point.  It rises quite steeply and has a good view back over the hills on the other side of the river, which is from where the murderous Serbian snipers shot thousands of innocent men, women and children.  Life in Sarajevo became a deadly challenge – moving from cover to cover, hoping not to get shot by unseen killers.

Nibbling some lokum to go with (yet another) Bosnian coffee.  Too sweet and scented for me, but when in Sarajevo…  Even though there are supposedly street dogs here, I’ve only seen one, trotting away in the rain this morning, busy on some doggy errand.  Quite a few cats, though…

After Logavina Steet I went along to the Pijac Markale food market – fruit and veg.  A terrible mortar attack on this market forms the opening of “Besieged” – the author narrowly escaped because she was delayed on her way there.  Today it’s a small, gentle place, nothing compared to the huge Central Asian markets of Tashkent or Bishkek.  But they don’t have its terrible history, with a death toll of over 60 in a single attack.  

A street memorial to one of the many shells that fell
A street memorial to one of the many shells that fell

After that, a stroll to the Eternal Flame, then down Ferhadija Street.  There I saw my first memorial in the pavement – blood-red infills of the damage caused by shell.  Looking back, I noticed a wacky Hotel Hecco Deluxe – really striking design.  Bonkers.  

Past the Grandska Tržnica market, which looks like a theatre from the outside.  Inside, huge slabs of fresh and dried meat.  A glance at the Sacred Heart cathedral – rather ugly – then past the New Orthodox Serbian church (nice onion domes).  Back to my room to upload pix, then back out to here, Restoran Čaršija, to eat something that wasn’t heavy and lamb.  Not bad.  Place empty but for me.  Ramadan, presumably.

Looking towards the Yellow Bastion from a Muslim cemetery
Looking towards the Yellow Bastion from a Muslim cemetery

Up at the Yellow Bastion – steep but easy walk, past a big Muslim cemetery.  Fine view from the top.  Next to the Ramadan gun, fired to mark the end of each day’s fasting – loud and audible throughout the city. Small café at the top too.

The Ramadan cannon
The Ramadan cannon

To the left, the very muddy river, then a weir, which makes it even more agitated and turbid.  Another Muslim cemetery on the south bank (also another behind me).  The river passes the striped City Hall, heading west.  Several mosques visible in Baščaršia area.  Beyond, more modern buildings, along with the Orthodox church and Catholic cathedral.  Further west, modern office blocks, 20, 30, 50 storeys high. Meanwhile, louring over it all, are the hills, in the Serbian portion of Bosnia, and the scene of thousands of atrocities by snipers.

A Chinese family has come up.  I’ve seen several tour groups from China – they are getting quite adventurous.  Also a few solos and pairs from the region.  Sun quite strong now.  I’m not complaining.  A lot of echoes here, and not just historical ones.  The view reminds me of Bilbao – same, river, same varied architecture.  The red-roofed houses remind me of Bratislava.  The minaret spires, those little rockets of Islam, are the tell-tale difference.

As in Bilbao, there’s a cable car here (was actually a funicular in Bilbao), but I don’t think I’ll bother riding it.  It goes quite high in the hills, and the clouds are so low that the top must have little visibility.  Here is less high, but has a fine prospect of Sarajevo.  It’s also getting a bit popular – time to move on.

Sarajevo's City Hall
Sarajevo's City Hall

Down the hill, past the City Hall, across to the south side.  Traffic snarled up as a police “spider” removes an errant car – apparently the traffic police are fierce here, and deploy their car removal systems without hesitation.  Now sitting by the Sarajevska Pivara (a distant muezzin intones).  So why am I here, given I hate beer?  Apparently the brewery has its own source of water, and during the siege people had to risk their lives coming here to get some for drinking.  Many never made it back.  Hard to comprehend now, sitting by this solid brewery in its maroon and yellow livery.  

The Sarajevo brewery
The Sarajevo brewery

Sitting in the At-Meidan – presumably the “horse place” where Ottomans exercised their horses.  A tram rumbles behind me, and the muddy river in spate roars.   An elderly lady asked whether I minded her sitting next to me on the bench – the point being that she, like practically everyone here, was going to smoke…

Then across the river to the north side, to Febodija, got a seat outside Caffe slastičarna Badem, took a Turkish tea and baklava.  Watched the (busy) world go by.  Then a wander east to Baščaršija itself, now bustling too, then back to the room to plan for tomorrow. Weather still looks dodgy, so a visit to Blagaj probably not feasible if I have to drive in the rain.

Baščaršija under the watchful eye of the Serbian hills
Baščaršija under the watchful eye of the Serbian hills

Back out for supper, now the iftar crowds are diminishing.  First, along  Ferhadija Street, very full, lovely atmosphere.  Then to here, Morića Han, the old inn.  Practically deserted now.  But food was good, big portion – and they are playing Safet Isović and his fellow Bosnians, singing their hearts out in sevdalinka songs.  What more could I ask?

26.3.25

So, it is bucketing down, and there are weather warnings both here and in Mostar.  Even if I were foolhardy enough to drive, I wouldn’t see anything along the way, would doubtless be stuck behind lorries and their sprays, and would end up walking around Mostar under the rain.  So I won’t be going.  Fortunately, there are plenty of museums here in Sarajevo – although quite a few are understandably about the Bosnian war, Srebenića, and the siege of Sarajevo.  So there’s that…

Went out to cancel the car I had booked, but at the pickup point Hotel Europa, they knew nothing.  Not surprisingly, since the pickup was actually Hotel Old Town.  So I went there.  They also knew nothing, and said that Europa Car often gave them as the pickup point, which was impossible, since they were in a pedestrian only zone.  Fair point.

I didn’t want to ring the car hire company, because my eSIM wouldn’t let me do that, which meant switching back to my UK SIM, and paying absurd rates.  But then I remembered that in Central Asia everyone used WhatsApp – as does my taxi company for my return to the airport on Friday.  So I thought I would bang in their phone number in WhatsApp – and bingo, there they were.  So I sent a message, asking where the car was.  I got a reply straightaway, saying it was a white Škoda, parked on the road nearby.  I asked which road, but then I saw it.  And indeed it was my car, with a helpful man inside.  I told him I was cancelling, which confused him a little, but then we agreed that was it, and parted.  I expect I will have to pay the full day rate, but that’s only fair.

The interior of the Gazi Husrev-Beg mosque
The interior of the Gazi Husrev-Beg mosque

Since it was nearly 9am, I want along to the Museum of Literature, which was open.  Theoretically.  In practice, not so much….  The rain even heavier now, but I am inside the delightfully warm Gazi Husrev-Beg mosque.  The only one  here, aside from the cleaning ladies.  A fine dome, characteristic honeycomb corners, as in Samarkand and elsewhere.  Outside, the courtyard is flooded in places, soaking my shoes.  They will stay that way for all of today, I think…  Around the dome is a gallery, quite high.  I wonder how you get up there, and what it is for… The cleaning lady has started vacuuming, breaking the tranquillity.  Time to move on.

The exterior of the Gazi Husrev-Beg mosque
The exterior of the Gazi Husrev-Beg mosque

Now in the madrasah (makes me think of the Registan).  In the visitor’s book, a message in Turkish, visitors from Istanbul.  Old Gazi Husrev-Beg left a lot to Sarajevo (his waqf, or gift).  As well as this madrasah, he gave the mosque, a hammam (now an institute), the covered market and even Morića Han.  This could accommodate 300 travellers – impressive, but probably a bit crowded.  I wonder what it was like to stay there back then…

The entrance to the Siege of Sarajevo exhibition
The entrance to the Siege of Sarajevo exhibition

After a resuscitating Bosnian coffee and baklava, to the Siege of Sarajevo museum, which I expect to be grim.  The personal stories.  In one room there is a 1300 page book “The Siege of Sarajevo, 1992-1996”.  Amazing and invaluable oral histories – unprecedented in their number.  Incredible.  The personal testimonies in the museum are fascinating and important.  But they are ill-served by the formatting (sorry, it’s true).  There are around 200 characters per line – it’s impossible for the eye not to get lost as you read across… 

A room about the attack on the market I visited yesterday.  Probably the most brutal pix I’ve seen – shredded bodies, limbs lying around on the ground…  Another room with an unflinching video of doctors trying to save people – children – with gaping holes in their bodies.  What’s even more terrible is that exactly these same scenes are playing out now in Gaza.  We never learn from the past.

Out into the never-ending rain.  Which perhaps is the only weather for viewing such sadness.  Coming out of the exhibition into glorious sunshine would be cruel.  To the memorably-named ASDŽ for lunch. Interesting setup – you choose your dish from those on offer, and they bring it to you on what look like tin plates.  Good value – just 10 KM (about £4) for chicken + mash + veg + bread.  The bread is great – super soft, a bit like nan, but even softer.  Incongruously, Madonna’s “Material Girl” is playing in the background.  Still a great song.  They also do takeaways here – and there’s a local delivery service called “Korpa” – with a bloke who brings it to you in a backpack.

To Despić house.  Every room full of dark wooden furniture – a very particular aesthetic.  Also a grand piano, slightly lower than usual.  Fine carpets everywhere.  Big tiled oven for heating.  Crazy carved chairs (x6) in the dining room, which holds the piano. An ornate sideboard and grandfather clock.  The view from the south-facing windows shows the river, now swollen with rains and faster than ever.

One of the luxurious rooms of Despić house
One of the luxurious rooms of Despić house

The floor boards particularly broad – a good 15-20cm.  Strong Bosnian wood.  Wacky wallpapers everywhere (e.g. what looks like endless rows of exploding brown marrows, separate by infinitely long millipedes.  In the main reading/relaxing room, the stove looks like the world’s most insane boombox, with dozens of speakers.

To the National Theatre, where a children’s opera seems to be playing.  Then to here, the National Gallery.  A section with a few icons close off, which is a pity since they look interesting.  A dramatic woodcut of a Bell Foundry by Đurić Milenko.   Looks like a close-up of a Piranesi.  A surreal “Flight  to Egypt” by Đoko Mazalić.  A very un-Middle Eastern landscape of mountains and green hills.  Looks more like Georgia…

Đoko Mazalić's "Flight into Egypt"
Đoko Mazalić's "Flight into Egypt"

As I move around the gallery, Mazalić emerges as the clear leader of Bosnian painting.  A wall with “Dependent”, showing a musician playing his lute-like instrument; very intent.  A city behind, its tower full of foreboding.  “At the Doctor’s” shows three women, sitting in front of a man – the doctor, presumably.  He is serious, one woman on the right turns away; the role of the other two is unclear: relatives, perhaps.

“The Peasant Woman” shows a figure as fierce as a native American chief.  “Coppersmith” depicts two men in shadows, surrounded by circular objects they have made (and still make in the picturesque backstreets of Baščaršija.  Two other pictures are of female nudes.  The first has two figures, the other just one. The skin is silky smooth in both.  

But what is most striking are the distant landscapes, seen through an opening behind the women in both paintings.  In “Summertime”, there is a river running between fortifications on two hills.  Rounded mountains loom behind.  The other is called “Heroic End”, and the distant landscape is even odder: a stumpy hill of rock just out of water – a river? Lake? - and on the top is a small conflagration burning red with smoke bending away.  A metaphor, perhaps…?  Those unexplained landscapes are clearly of the same stuff as the “Flight into Egypt”, and just as disconcerting.

Đoko Mazalić's "Old Poplar"
Đoko Mazalić's "Old Poplar"

In the next room, more by Mazalić – rather attractive small landscapes.  “Old Poplar” – where trees shoot out of the ground like geysers.  “Village in Bosnia”, bathed in a gentle evening light.  “Old Town” – which consists of of a few simple houses perched on steep, Georgian-like hills.  “Vogošča motif” – a study in forms, where trees and houses and mountains dissolve to become pure volumes.  “Early Spring” – abstract, almost Kandinskian in its twisting lines and colours.  A self portrait in the next room.  Mazalić wears thick round glasses, looking well away from the viewer.  

Đoko Mazalić's self portrait
Đoko Mazalić's self portrait

To PekSar café.  Unusual design – small space, but on three floors – the shop and two seating areas.  All quite news.  Photocopies menus.  I asked for a Turkish tea, and they brought me English tea. <sigh/>.

After a rest, and quick catchup online, out to the Museum of Literature, which I find is semi-closed for repairs.  No fee, but only a small temporary exhibition of set designs by Miroslav Bilać.  Usual stuff, only of interest to historians.  At least it’s warm here.  It’s striking that many of his designs consist of a table with a few chairs.  A bit melancholy, really…  On the way back, I tried to visit the modern Gallery of Contemporary Art Manifesto, but they were setting up new works, so it was closed.

Back in the Morića Han, after failing to get into the Dveri restaurant – even though Google Maps falsely claimed it was “not too busy”.  Ironically, a year ago I had a reservation here, but obviously couldn’t use it when I failed to make it to Sarajevo for various reasons.  Slightly busier in here tonight.

Searching online for the Mazalić painter that had struck me in the National Gallery, I discovered that Google Arts & Culture put together a feature on his work, writing: “It would be difficult to find a person that left a deeper trace in BH art scene.”  There are quite a few paintings online there, including many I did not see, even though they are listed as being part of the National Gallery collection.  They certainly confirm his stature.  I couldn’t help but notice that the National Gallery held an exhibition of his works, and that there was a catalogue for the show “Đoko Mazalić 1888- 1975”, published in 2017. Horribly tempting…

Food portion more moderate this evening.  Good.  Now trying hurmašica – pastry drenched in syrup.  Apparently a favourite for Islamic holidays.  It is very sweet, but surprisingly pleasant.

27.3.25

One of Sarajevo's older trams
One of Sarajevo's older trams

On tram #3 – one of the old ones.  Looks very Soviet – rusty, dirty, old.  But I like trams, paid just KM6.30 (`£3) for a day ticket.  Needed to go out to the History Museum, by the station.  Quite a way out.  Miraculously, the rain has stopped for a bit.  Quite cold now.  Passed the market, thinking of the images I saw yesterday… The Eternal Flame.  One of the digital ads in the tram had “Mubarak olsun”.  Turkish soap operas on the TV in the restaurant last night.  Already further out west than before – unknown territory.  Amazingly, the old tram had wifi.

The unlovely History Museum
The unlovely History Museum

To the History Museum, one of the ugliest, most depressing modernist buildings I have seen – a huge parallelipiped of concrete, with everything rusted and decaying.  Downstairs, an exhibition about the Second World War.  Posters, rifles, 1942 newspaper, photos of women workers – sorry, heroines.  Out to the garden, full of artillery.  Plus a huge wooden grinder for grain.  Rather impressive.

Before and after
Before and after

Fascinating photographic exhibition by Jim Marshall.  Called “15 years” it shows locations around the city in 1996, just after the conclusion of the Bosnian War and siege, and again in 2011.  Dramatic differences, from buildings pock-marked by shells and bullets, windows smashed, some ruins, to the modern-looking city.  Shows the remarkable ability of the human spirit to repair and advance.

Another photographic exhibit.  75 pix of women and girls, taken twice: once smiling with a light background, and again frowning, angry, against a black background.  Quite striking.  Upstairs, more gut-wrenching scenes from the siege of Sarajevo.

To the National Museum.  A rather steep KM20 (~ £8) but surprisingly modern and well designed.  Presumably recently renovated.  In the prehistory section, sitting under a huge log canoe… Upstairs, I find that the wood of the boat has been dated to 6000BCE…

An 8000-year-old canoe
An 8000-year-old canoe

Lots of good exhibits here – a reflection that this was a populous area for prehistoric peoples.  Same is true for the Roman epoch, as evidenced by lots of archaeological finds on display in the west wing of the museum.  Upstairs to the medieval section, less impressive.  Aside from a huge “judge chair”. 

Ancient funerary monuments
Ancient funerary monuments

Outside, in the garden.  Some massive funerary monuments, hewn from single blocks of stone, some carved with figures, animals, others with old Slavonic writing.  Overall, a very impressive museum, one I almost left out, assuming it would be boring…

A slightly long walk to the 142 metre high “twisty tower”, officially the Avaz Twist tower, then up to here, Caffe 35, on the 35th floor surprisingly enough. Pretty good view of the city, spoiled a little by the excessively blue-tinted glass.  Will go up to the open observation deck afterwards.  Rain has stopped, even the odd glimpse of sun.  Ironically, they didn’t have Bosnian coffee here, so I’m drinking a cappuccino.  Rather good, it has to be said.  Disappointed that the sealed packet of the bicky I was given was open and thus had to be discarded…

Looking towards the old town, and the surrounding hills
Looking towards the old town, and the surrounding hills

Up on the observation deck, a watery sun above me.  I can pick out landmarks of the old town.  And see how utterly vulnerable it was to snipers…  Air slightly hazy, maybe smoke.  Car horns rise from below – they are used a lot here.  Also striking how people will park anywhere – even worse than in Italy.  Actually, looking towards the airport, pretty clear the haze is fumes.  The air not too healthy, I suspect.  The tower good and stable – I’ve not felt any swaying…. The railway below looks rusty and dilapidated – a bit like those in Tbilisi and Chisinau.  I love these views from high places.  

Sarajevo train station, seen from above
Sarajevo train station, seen from above

To the train station, which is as forlorn inside as it is decrepit outside.  A huge hall, with several boarded up shops.  A café, the ticket office.  Two horrendous murals advertising Coca-Cola.  No departure board, probably because there are so few trains…

Took (shiny modern) tram back to the stop near the National Gallery.  I was hoping it might still have copies of the Mazalič catalogue from 2017.  They kindly went off to look in their storeroom, but only found a catalogue for a different exhibition with some of his works.  KM35 – too much, and too heavy, and not really what I wanted, alas.

Now back in ASDŽ – good quality, cheap and convenient.  Fantastic local bread – a meal in itself.  When I was in the tram, standing, a nice middle-aged Muslim lady offered me her seat.  Very kind, but I refused, since I prefer to stand.  She was a little confused when I thanked her anyway….

To Svrzo’s house.  Steep road up from Baščaršina – interesting to see several Ottoman-style enclosed balconies on houses along the way.  I note as I enter that this house was renovated thanks to funding from the USAID

Inside Svrzo's house
Inside Svrzo's house

Outside the stable a binjektaš – a mounting stone (taš) for riding (binmek).  Fascinating to see such an evidently luxurious house.  Rich dark wood everywhere, places to wash, stoves for heating, and seats around the outside of most rooms, even the bedroom, which had its bed on the floor in the centre.

Black metal shutters of Svrzo's house
Black metal shutters of Svrzo's house

Amazing black window shutters made of metal – bronze? - they look like 3D versions of Rothko’s paintings, rich rectangles hanging in space more literally than in the pix.  Overall, the minimalist vibe plus the use of wood has a distinctly Japanese feel. A big panel of thick planks can be folded down to close the staircase leading to the internal courtyard.  As well as the beauty of the workmanship, what is striking about this place is the scale: room after room, all gorgeously appointed.  Amazingly, I had the place entirely to myself.  Also in the museums, this morning, no more than five other people.

Doorway to another world
Doorway to another world

To the City Hall.  Rather disappointing inside.  Slightly gaudy colours and fussy design.  Of course its destruction was an act of barbarism, not least for the loss of 1.5 million books and manuscripts that were burnt by this deliberate attack on Bosnian culture.  And it was right to rebuild it.  But I just can’t get excited about in the way some others seem to.  Then upstairs to the modern art collection.  Mostly dire.  People with no ideas, no originality.  I feel sorry for them.  

Inside the City Hall
Inside the City Hall

On my last night here, it seems right to listen to the intonation at the Gazi Husrev-Beg mosque.  Interesting how similar to Gregorian chant – limited range, roughly a-b-c-d up and then c-a-g-e down.  Quite a rich voice, and noteworthy how he sings the Arabic guttural sounds and aspirations – the former a swallowed sound, the latter a distinct voiceless break in the musical flow.  Quite long, a slow and relatively undifferentiated.  In fact, the melody seems to follow the a-b-c-d-
c-a-g-e shape most of the time.  Quite hypnotic.

28.3.25 Sarajevo airport 

Waiting for the departure security gates to open.

Interesting chat with my taxi driver, who arrived early, and let me know via WhatsApp – efficient chap.  I asked him what the main nationalities of visitors here were.  Mostly Turkish, he said.  That fits with my impression of hearing Turkish spoken on the streets.  But the second most common nationality was surprising. He said lots of Arabs come here, especially in the summer.  I asked why, and he pointed out that there are few trees and mountains in Arab countries, but here they are abundant.  And in fact I had seen notices written in Arabic around the city.  And here at the airport there’s one offering services to help buy land with Arabic support.  I wonder how much land Arabs own now – and much they will?

I also wondered whether the man Turkish Airline flights my driver said arrived each day were because Istanbul is a hub, as I well know.  But he pointed out that the telephone numbers of the people he picked up at the airport had Turkish national codes, and were therefore likely to be Turkish.  Fair enough.

One final thought.  From the moment I arrived until I left, my eyes were constantly drawn to the hills surrounding Sarajevo on all side.  Whether enjoying the view from the Yellow Bastion, or the twisty tower, they were always there, as the backdrop.  In part, that’s because I love high places – hence my abiding interest in Georgia, Tajikistan, Kyrgyzstan, Kashmir, Nepal etc. etc.  But here in Sarajevo there was a very particular reason – the main stimulus for my journey here.  

It was the thought that up in those hills, year after year, Serbian snipers took aim at old ladies, young children and everyone else as they tried to run from cover to cover across the dangerous open spaces.  With cold intent and deadly weapons they took aim at people they may have known and met all the time before the war.  

And up in those hills there were the artillery and mortars that rained explosive death on innocent civilians, trapped in Sarajevo’s terrible, defenceless geography.  Like the time the mortar landed in the fruit and veg market, killing 68 people, and ripping apart the body of one poor young man in particular, caught in a photographic image that I will not describe but can never forget, a terrible symbol of what was done to Sarajevo. Now, 30 years later, the city is beautiful and vibrant, a hopeful sign that even the most terrible wounds can heal.

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