Istanbul’s Egyptian Bazaar. Among Spices, Sweets and Gold

Sometimes while travelling, the places that stay with you are not necessarily the grand monuments or the famous historical sites. Sometimes it is simply a market full of colours, spices, noise and carefully arranged displays. That was exactly my impression of Istanbul’s Egyptian Bazaar.

We ended up at the Egyptian Bazaar in Istanbul a bit by accident. After a boat trip on the Bosphorus, this was simply one of the closest places to where the boats docked, so I suspect that was exactly why our guides brought us there. It was also my first market experience in Istanbul, although technically not the city’s most famous one. That title probably still belongs to the enormous Grand Bazaar, which is much larger and much better known among visitors.

Architecturally, the Egyptian Bazaar itself is probably not the most spectacular historical market you can find. There are certainly older and more decorative bazaars in different parts of the world. The building is interesting, but after walking through several sections, the architecture becomes rather repetitive, and with the constant crowds it was not particularly easy to photograph anyway.

What really caught my attention instead was the incredible density of trade and the care with which everything was displayed. There seemed to be an endless number of stalls and tiny shops selling spices, sweets, teas, gold jewellery, fabrics, clothing and all sorts of decorative objects aimed at both locals and tourists.

The spice displays were especially striking. Mountains of colourful powders, dried herbs and tea blends were arranged almost like small works of art. What I noticed several times was how carefully the vendors maintained these displays throughout the day. Whenever products were sold and the perfect shapes disappeared, they immediately refilled, reshaped and smoothed everything again so the presentation remained visually flawless. It was almost theatrical, but in a very beautiful way.

I had already noticed during breakfast at our Turkish hotel that Turkish cuisine places enormous emphasis on sweets and sweet spreads, and the bazaar confirmed it immediately. There were endless varieties of halva, lokum, pistachio desserts, honey-based sweets and chocolate creations that today would probably be marketed elsewhere as Dubai-style desserts. Turkish sweets are often extremely rich, very decorative and heavily based on nuts, sesame, honey, syrup and pistachios, which makes them feel quite different from the cakes and desserts more common in other parts of Europe.

There were also many clothing shops, although I photographed fewer of them. I did notice some incredibly ornate Turkish lingerie displays, full of embroidery, lace and bright decorative details, as well as many jewellery shops specialising in gold. Gold seems to occupy a very visible place in Turkish commercial culture, and entire sections of the bazaar glittered with it.

According to many guidebooks, the Egyptian Bazaar is used both by locals and tourists. Personally, though, I had the impression that tourists clearly dominate today. The only local customers I distinctly remember were people buying spices and food products rather than souvenirs or decorative items. That part at least still seemed genuinely practical and connected to everyday life in the city.

By that point, my own interest shifted almost completely toward photography rather than shopping. The architecture itself mattered less to me than the textures, colours and arrangements of all the goods on display. Most of the photos from this post therefore focus on those details – the spices, sweets, tea glasses, gold, fabrics and carefully prepared shop displays that make the bazaar visually fascinating even if you buy almost nothing.

In fact, the only thing I bought there was a Turkish tea pot. Or at least I hope it was Turkish and not manufactured somewhere else entirely. To be honest, establishing that with certainty inside a tourist bazaar was probably impossible.

The Egyptian Bazaar, also known as the Spice Bazaar, was built in the seventeenth century during the period of the Ottoman Empire. It was completed around 1664 as part of the larger complex of the New Mosque (Yeni Camii), located beside the waterfront of the Golden Horn – the natural inlet branching off from the Bosphorus and connecting with the Sea of Marmara, which for centuries served as one of Istanbul’s most important harbour and trading areas. Much of the commercial life of the city historically concentrated around these waters, as ships arriving from across the Mediterranean and the Middle East brought goods directly into this part of Istanbul.

During the Ottoman period, bazaars such as this were not simply marketplaces in the modern sense. Income generated from renting the shops helped finance the maintenance of mosques, schools, charitable kitchens and other public buildings connected with religious complexes. Trade therefore played a direct role in supporting the daily functioning of the city and many of its institutions.

The name Egyptian Bazaar most likely comes from the fact that many goods and taxes connected with the market originated in Egypt, which at the time formed part of the Ottoman Empire. The trade in spices, coffee, tea and other imported luxury products arriving by sea was especially important. Over time, the bazaar became one of the main centres of the spice trade in Istanbul, although in reality it always offered far more than spices alone. Unlike the enormous Grand Bazaar, which developed as a huge commercial centre covering almost every category of goods imaginable, the Egyptian Bazaar became more specialised and strongly associated with food products, herbs, teas, sweets and various luxury delicacies. Even today, this is still the character for which it is best known.

Architecturally, the building follows a characteristic Ottoman layout, with long vaulted corridors and rows of relatively small shops lining both sides of the passageways. Over the centuries, many parts of the bazaar had to be restored after fires and earthquakes, so its present appearance combines original historical elements with later reconstructions and renovations.

Istanbul’s Egyptian Bazaar. Among Spices, Sweets and Gold

Istanbul from the Bosphorus Waters. A Short Cruise Between Europe and Asia

Today I would like to show you what is often considered the largest city in Europe. Istanbul is a city that stretches across two continents, with most of its population living on the European side and the rest on the Asian shore of the Bosphorus. With more than fifteen million inhabitants, it is frequently described as the largest city in Europe, although its unique position between Europe and Asia makes it impossible to place neatly into a single category. And perhaps that is exactly what makes Istanbul feel so extraordinary from the very beginning.

We deliberately chose not to fly to Istanbul. Instead, we travelled overland from Bulgaria by coach. We wanted to experience the gradual transition into the city and understand its true scale. Both on the journey into Istanbul and again when leaving, we crossed enormous sections of the city – each time following a different route. That gave us the opportunity to see far more than just the famous landmarks usually associated with Istanbul. We saw the city as a vast, sprawling metropolis stretching endlessly across hills, valleys and coastlines on two continents. Even after hours of driving, the city still seemed to continue without interruption. Along the way I took hundreds of photographs through the coach window, trying to capture at least fragments of that scale. I still have not processed those images yet, but they will definitely appear in a future post.

But on the second day we pursuit yet another Istanbul experience and boarded a cruiser to see the city from the Bosphorus waters. It revealed an entirely different perspective. From the deck of the boat, Istanbul was no longer a landscape of traffic, overpasses and endless urban expansion, but a constantly changing waterfront panorama of palaces, mosques, bridges, waterfront mansions and steep hillsides rising directly above the strait. Seen from the water, the city felt calmer, more layered and somehow even more extraordinary. And perhaps that contrast between the overwhelming scale of Istanbul seen from the land and the softer atmosphere of the city seen from the Bosphorus is what made this experience so unforgettable.

The Bosphorus cruise was the complete opposite of that land perspective. Instead of traffic, overpasses and crowded streets, we watched Istanbul unfold slowly from the water itself. What struck me most was the contrast. Ottoman palaces stood directly beside the water, their façades reflected in the strait, while behind them modern apartment buildings climbed steep hillsides.

But more than anything else, I remember the atmosphere of the Bosphorus that morning. When I was a child, I once read a novel in which someone described Istanbul at dawnthe Bosphorus covered in a pale mist drifting just above the water. I no longer remember the title of the book or even the author, but the image somehow stayed with me for years. And then, standing there in Istanbul, I suddenly realised I was looking at exactly the same scene. Early in the morning, the Bosphorus was wrapped in a delicate haze. The mist softened the outlines of the city and diffused the sunlight so completely that even taking photographs became difficult. The entire landscape seemed muted and almost unreal. The colour of the Bosphorus waters surprised me as well. I had expected the deep navy tones usually associated with large sea channels, but the water often appeared aquamarine. In the soft morning light it shifted constantly between pale turquoise and blue-green shades, reflecting both the changing sky and the mist above it.

The cruise itself lasted around an hour. The Bosphorus is the narrow strait connecting the Black Sea with the Sea of Marmara and, at the same time, the natural dividing line between Europe and Asia. Earlier that day, while approaching the city by road, we had already seen large cargo vessels waiting offshore for permission to enter the Bosphorus. It is one of the characteristic sights around Istanbul. Traffic through the strait is tightly controlled and large ships wait for their allocated passage times before continuing their journey. During the cruise itself, however, the Bosphorus felt unexpectedly calm. Around us there were mainly local ferries, smaller private boats and sightseeing vessels, which allowed the city itself to dominate the experience rather than maritime traffic.

As our boat slowly pulled away from the quay, Istanbul began unfolding in layers along both shores. Above the historic peninsula rose the silhouettes of mosques and minarets dominating the skyline of the old city. Shortly afterwards we passed the Galata Bridge connecting the historic centre with the northern districts across the Golden Horn. The Golden Horn is a natural inlet branching off from the Bosphorus on the European side of Istanbul. For centuries it served as the city’s main harbour and divided the historic imperial centre from the Galata district on the opposite shore. Today it remains one of the most characteristic parts of Istanbul’s waterfront panorama.

From the water we could also clearly see the Galata Tower rising above the dense urban landscape, visible from surprisingly far away. One of the first buildings that immediately drew attention was Dolmabahçe Palace. Bright, monumental and unmistakably European in style, it looked completely different from the more traditional Ottoman architecture usually associated with Istanbul. Seen from the Bosphorus, the palace appeared almost impossibly large, extending directly along the waterfront with enormous symmetrical façades facing the water.

Further along came the Beşiktaş waterfront, followed by the magnificent Çırağan Palace. Today it operates as a luxury hotel, but it still carries the grandeur of an imperial Ottoman residence. Seen from the water, the building looked less like a hotel and more like a ceremonial palace placed directly beside the strait.

The closer we moved along the Bosphorus, the more visible the contrasts became between imperial Istanbul and the modern metropolis surrounding it. Some sections of the shoreline were dominated by historic architecture and elegant waterfront mansions, while others revealed dense modern districts climbing steep hillsides in layers upon layers of apartment blocks.

The Ortaköy Mosque was undoubtedly one of the most photogenic points along the route. Standing almost directly at the edge of the water beneath the vast Bosphorus Bridge, it perfectly captured the layered character of Istanbul itself. Historic Ottoman architecture, modern infrastructure and densely built urban hillsides all existed together within the same view.

On the Asian shore we passed Beylerbeyi Palace, another elegant Ottoman residence overlooking the Bosphorus. Beyond it stretched rows of famous yali – historic wooden waterfront mansions built directly beside the strait. Some seemed almost suspended above the water itself. Between them were hidden gardens, private piers and quiet coves barely visible from the roads running high above the coastline.

At certain moments the shape of the shoreline created the illusion that parts of the city were separated like islands. In reality this was just the entrance to the Strait from the Marmara Sea with the Maiden’s Tower, or Kız Kulesi, standing alone on a small rocky islet near the Asian shore. On the picture below from the Google Maps you can see the route there and back we took.

Before returning to the harbour, another remarkable view appeared on the European side of the city, near the point where the Bosphorus meets the Sea of Marmara. In the distance, rising above the shoreline and surrounded by trees, we could see Topkapi Palace – the vast former residence of the Ottoman sultans.

Unlike the later waterfront palaces built directly along the Bosphorus, Topkapi does not appear as a single monumental building. Seen from the water, it looks more like an entire fortified complex spread across the historic peninsula. For centuries it served as the political, ceremonial and administrative centre of the Ottoman Empire, occupying one of the most strategic locations in Istanbul, overlooking the Bosphorus, the Golden Horn and the Sea of Marmara at the same time.

Further behind the palace lies the heart of the former imperial city of Constantinople, where Hagia Sophia and, beyond it, the Blue Mosque dominate the skyline of the historic peninsula. From the position of the boat, however, those landmarks remained hidden deeper within the city and were not visible from the water during this part of the cruise.

What fascinated me most throughout the cruise was how quickly everything changed. The Bosphorus never looked the same for more than a few minutes. One moment there were monumental palaces and elegant waterfront mansions, the next there were crowded residential districts or single houses climbing steep hillsides, followed by mosques, ferry terminals, modern bridges stretching far into the distance. Seen from the water, Istanbul does not feel like a single city. It feels more like a constantly shifting panorama flowing endlessly between Europe and Asia.

Istanbul from the Bosphorus Waters. A Short Cruise Between Europe and Asia

Hagia Sophia History. From Byzantine Glory to Modern Day

Today I want to introduce you to one of the most monumental buildings of Ancient Europe – the Hagia Sophia in Istanbul. I had always thought of stepping inside and seeing it with my own eyes. When I finally managed to do so last year, I can’t say I was either surprised or disappointed, as I was already well-acquainted with the history of this temple. Yet, with the splendour of other sacred buildings – Catholic, Orthodox, Anglican – that I have had the chance to admire in recent years, and with the Blue Mosque standing right next to the Hagia Sophia, I couldn’t help but feel a certain disappointment at the way its interior looks today.

Let us then look into its history. Let us try to answer the question of what made this temple – the most illustrious and most exquisitely decorated Christian building of its time – although still standing in an almost intact mass, no longer inspire awe with its interior décor as it once did. Let us trace the events that, over the centuries, have shaped its present appearance.

The Hagia Sophia, meaning Holy Wisdom, is actually the third temple to stand on this site. The first Basilica of Holy Wisdom in Constantinople was built by Emperor Constantius II in AD 360 – a church of the Eastern (Byzantine) rite, still within the single, undivided universal Church, though with liturgy in Greek and traditions distinct from those in the West. It was destroyed by fire in AD 404 during riots sparked by the exile of Patriarch John Chrysostom. The second church, larger and more magnificent, was built by Emperor Theodosius II in AD 415 – also in the Eastern rite, still formally united with the Western Church, yet with growing liturgical and theological differences. This one too was destroyed – in AD 532, during the Nika Revolt that shook the city. The third and most famous Hagia Sophia, whose essential form has survived to this day, was built by Emperor Justinian I. Completed in AD 537, it served as the cathedral of the Eastern rite and the principal church of the Patriarchate of Constantinople. It was a true masterpiece of Late Antique architecture – designed by Anthemius of Tralles and Isidore of Miletus, with a monumental dome, gilded mosaics, and marble cladding.

Very little written evidence has survived describing what the Hagia Sophia once looked like. Our modern vision is based on fragments of sources from the 6th to the 12th century, chiefly the works of Procopius of Caesarea, Paulus Silentiarius, and Bishop Anthony of Novgorod. Upon crossing the threshold of the Hagia Sophia, one would enter a space that seemed not of this world. The dome appeared to float in the air, suspended by an invisible chain of light, whose glow reflected off thousands of golden tesserae. Rays streaming through rows of windows spilled into the interior, mingling with the glow of lamps and candles. The walls and floors were clad in marbles of green, purple, white, and black, brought from the farthest provinces of the empire – from Thessaly, Egypt, and Phrygia. The great altar gleamed with gold, silver, and precious stones. Above it rose a ciborium, supported by columns of green stone adorned with gilded capitals. In the apse, high above the altar, shone a mosaic of the Mother of God with the Child, and below it rows of angels and saints. Along the naves and galleries stretched richly decorated balustrades, and everywhere the eye turned, the golden backgrounds of mosaics shimmered.

Though it has withstood the centuries, the Hagia Sophia suffered serious damage from earthquakes on several occasions – notably in AD 558, 989, and 1346, when parts of its dome collapsed and had to be rebuilt. Yet the greatest blow came not from nature but from human hands – during the Fourth Crusade in AD 1204, and, importantly, at the hands of Christians who were meant to defend the faith, yet ended up plundering the most illustrious Christian building of the age. It should be remembered, however, that since the Great Schism of AD 1054, the temple had represented the Eastern rite, and was thus an Orthodox cathedral, not a Latin (Western Church) one.

At that time, the Angelos dynasty ruled Byzantium. In AD 1195, Emperor Isaac II Angelos was deposed and blinded by his own brother, Alexios III, who seized the throne. Isaac’s son, Alexios IV, fled to the West in search of help. In AD 1202, he reached the Crusaders, who were preparing an expedition to Egypt but lacked the funds to pay for the Venetian fleet. Alexios IV offered them an extraordinary bargain: if they helped him reclaim the throne, he would pay them a vast sum, provide supplies, and promised to unite the Eastern Church with Rome.

The Crusaders, financially bound by their contract with the Venetians, agreed. In AD 1203, they captured Constantinople and placed Isaac II and Alexios IV on the throne. The promised funds, however, proved impossible to raise without plunder and drastic taxation. In January AD 1204, a revolt broke out in the city. Alexios IV was overthrown and killed, and power passed to Alexios V Mourtzouphlos. In April AD 1204, the Crusaders attacked and seized the city once again – this time for themselves.

During the three-day sack, palaces, monasteries, and churches – including the Hagia Sophia – were plundered. Altars of marble and gold were dismantled, mosaics were smashed or prised apart for their golden tiles, and the church’s interior became a scene of profanation – chroniclers speak of horses being led inside and of feasts held in the sanctuary.

Among the priceless relics and treasures looted in AD 1204 was the Crown of Thorns, formerly kept in the imperial chapel of St Mary of the Pharos within the Great Palace. It fell into the hands of the Venetians, probably as part of the Crusaders’ debt repayment to the Republic. It was later purchased by King Louis IX of France, who brought it to Paris. To house it, the Sainte-Chapelle – a masterpiece of Rayonnant Gothic – was built between AD 1242 and 1248. The relic later passed to Notre-Dame Cathedral.

After the capture of Constantinople in AD 1204, the participants of the Fourth Crusade established the Latin Empire on its ruins, which lasted until AD 1261. Count Baldwin IX of Flanders was placed on the imperial throne and crowned in the Hagia Sophia. The church, until then the cathedral of the Patriarchate of Constantinople in the Eastern rite, was turned into a Latin cathedral, with the liturgy conducted in Latin according to the Western rite. The Orthodox patriarch was exiled and replaced by a Latin patriarch. The Latin Empire controlled only part of the former Byzantine territory, its power relying largely on Venetian support. Economically and militarily, the state was weak.

In AD 1261, the Byzantines of the Palaiologos dynasty recaptured the city, restoring the Eastern rite. Yet the empire they recovered was far smaller than in its glory days, holding mainly Constantinople, the Sea of Marmara region, parts of Thrace, and fragments of Greece. Economically devastated after the Latin occupation, its trade largely taken over by Venetians and Genoese, the empire was too poor and too weak to fully restore the Hagia Sophia. The church was repaired only provisionally, and the lost decorations and relics were never returned.

Politically, Byzantium was forced to navigate between stronger neighbours – the Latin states, Serbia, Bulgaria, and later the rising power of the Ottoman Empire. A weak economy made it impossible to maintain a large army, so the state relied mainly on alliances and mercenary troops for its defence. From the late 14th century, the Ottomans gradually seized Byzantine lands, so that by 1450 the empire had been reduced to Constantinople and a handful of nearby settlements. The city was by then sparsely populated – around 50,000-60,000 inhabitants, compared with several hundred thousand at its height in the 11th century. The Ottomans, under Sultan Mehmed II, prepared a major campaign, employing modern siege artillery, including massive bombards. The siege lasted from April until 29 May 1453, when the Turks breached the walls and entered the city.

After the capture of Constantinople in May 1453, Sultan Mehmed II almost immediately converted the Hagia Sophia into a mosque. The process began within the very first days after the city’s fall. First, the interior was cleansed, all remnants of Christian liturgy were removed, and elements essential for Muslim prayer were introduced. In the apse, a mihrab – a niche indicating the direction of Mecca – was installed, a minbar (pulpit for sermons) was added, and carpets were spread across the floor. The altar, reliquaries, and other liturgical furnishings were taken away. As a result, within just a few days of Constantinople’s capture, the Hagia Sophia was already functioning as a mosque, although the full adaptation of its architecture and aesthetics to the Islamic tradition would continue for decades.

In the first stage, the Christian mosaics and decorations were covered with cloths or a thin layer of plaster wherever required for Islamic prayer. In the 15th century, the Ottomans did not typically engage in the systematic destruction of such imagery – on the contrary, in the case of a monument as valuable and monumental as the Hagia Sophia, they favoured reversible methods, avoiding permanent interference with the decorative structure. The thin plaster was applied without deep bonding to the mosaics, making later uncovering easier. As a result, a significant portion of the mosaics survived the first decades of Ottoman rule in relatively good condition. Their complete covering or partial removal occurred only in the following centuries, usually due to renovations, moisture damage, or alterations. However, elements of gold and silver with intrinsic material value were melted down and reused for other purposes.

After the conversion of the Hagia Sophia into a mosque in 1453, work began on adding minarets, which would become a defining feature of its silhouette. The first minaret was built on the orders of Mehmed II soon after the city’s conquest, probably in brick or stone, positioned at one of the building’s corners. Its form was relatively slender and simple, in keeping with the Ottoman architecture of the time. In the 16th century, under Sultan Selim II and his successor Murad III, the renowned architect Mimar Sinan rebuilt the earlier minaret and added others, constructing them from white stone and giving them a more massive, harmonious appearance. Ultimately, the Hagia Sophia acquired four minarets – each slightly different, as they were built in different periods: the two south-western ones are larger and more solid, while the north-eastern and south-eastern are more slender. The minarets not only served a religious function (the call to prayer) but also became a visual symbol of the Islamisation of the former cathedral.

After the First World War, the Ottoman Empire, allied with Germany, was defeated. It was divided among the victorious powers, and Istanbul was occupied by British, French, and Italian forces. In Anatolia, the Turkish War of Independence (1919–1923) broke out under the leadership of Mustafa Kemal Pasha, later known as Atatürk. It ended with the Treaty of Lausanne (1923), which recognised the sovereign Turkish state. In the same year, the sultanate was abolished, and the capital was moved from Constantinople (Istanbul) to Ankara.

The Hagia Sophia continued to function as a mosque until 1931, when it was closed to worshippers by decision of the Republican authorities. In 1935, as part of Atatürk’s secular reforms, it was converted into a museum. This opened the way for the first systematic conservation work, including the uncovering of mosaics that had been hidden since the Ottoman era.

In 2020, the Hagia Sophia was once again converted into a mosque, resulting in changes to both access and interior display. The ground floor – the main prayer space – is now reserved for Muslim worshippers (primarily men), while tourists may access only the upper galleries. The mosaics on the ground floor uncovered during conservation work have not been destroyed or plastered over, but are covered with cloths and curtains. Some of these coverings remain in place even outside prayer times. By contrast, the mosaics uncovered in the upper galleries – being outside the prayer area – remain accessible and visible to visitors.

Although I was equipped with a fairly good camera, I was nevertheless unable to fully capture what was happening on the lower level of the church. The angles from which photographs can be taken from the galleries did not allow for a precise view of that part, so from my own observation I cannot confirm exactly what the situation is in the lower section of the interior. My camera has good zoom, but in darker spaces exposure time has its limits if you don’t have a tripod.

As for the upper section in the galleries, as far as I can recall, only two or three uncovered mosaics were visible. One was in relatively good condition, the other was damaged by about half – just as shown in the photographs attached. There is also a mosaic in the entrance area, outside the prayer zone, which currently has no unrestricted access, so it is likely viewed only by tourists – and it is this very mosaic that depicts the scene in which Emperor Constantine the Great offers the city, and Emperor Justinian I offers the Hagia Sophia, to the Blessed Virgin Mary and Christ. A photograph of this mosaic is also included in this material.

In the upper section, almost everywhere one can see plastered surfaces that have not been renovated for years. Much of this plaster is cracked, with peeling paint, as is clearly visible in the photographs. Conservation work, however, can be seen being carried out on the exterior of the church.

The Hagia Sophia is a living testament to centuries of faith, power, and change. Its walls still echo with the grandeur of its past, even as time and transformation have altered its form. Whatever its role, it remains one of the world’s most remarkable monuments.

Hagia Sophia History. From Byzantine Glory to Modern Day