Sultanahmet Camii

Sunday — April 25: Part III

A meandering route following side streets from the Topkapı Palace took us to one of the most visited mosques in the city, Sultanahmet Camii (aka the Blue Mosque).

Map picture

The red pushpin marks the location of Sultanahmet Camii.
The long green area to the left is Sultanahmet Square.  Ayasofya is visible near
the upper right corner, with Sultanahmet Park just below.

We’d stopped by the mosque on our first day in İstanbul, but our timing was off.  The doors were closed to all but the faithful for one of the five daily “namaz” (prayer) rituals.  This time, we arrived as the midday prayer was ending.  It was just a brief wait before I went in for a look-see with Murat and Hakan.

Sultanahmet Mosque from near the Arasta Bazaar.

Built between 1609-1617 at the behest of Sultan Ahmet I, the mosque is an architectural wonder.  Too bad the Sultan didn’t live to see it completed, but from what I’ve read, he at least had a chance to do some construction work himself.  The edifice is not nicknamed the Blue Mosque because it is a sad place.  Rather, it’s the tile work inside that is the source of the moniker by which the mosque is popularly known to visitors.

The Fodor’s Turkey guide describes Sultanahmet Camii as follows:

Only after you enter the Blue Mosque do you understand why it is so named.  Inside, 20,000 shimmering blue-green İznik tiles are interspersed with 260 stained-glass windows; calligraphy and intricate patterns are painted on the ceiling.  After the dark corners and stern, sour faces of the Byzantine mosaics in Aya Sofya, this light-filled mosque is positively uplifting.  Such a favorable comparison was the intention of architect Mehmet Ağa, known as Sedefkar (worker of mother-of-pearl), whose goal was to surpass Justinian’s crowning achievement (Aya Sofya). …

We made our way from behind the mosque ...

… to the courtyard in front.

The layered domes remind me of a tiered wedding cake.

Glimpse of a small portion of the vaulted arcade that surrounds the courtyard.

As impressive as the exterior of the mosque is, what attracts visitors here is the interior.  There was a very long line of people waiting to get in through the main entrance in the courtyard, so we went around to a smaller side entrance instead.  Before going in, we removed our shoes (rolls of plastic bags are available so that visitors can take their shoes with them), and following the dress code for women, I covered my head with the hood of my windbreaker; worked just as well as a scarf.  Then, we stepped inside to a wonderland of beautiful tile work.

Most visitors are so engrossed in the tile work that they forget to look down at the floor, which is covered with carpets donated by the faithful and replaced as they wear out.  Don’t forget to check them out.

As I was leaving, I noticed a young girl, dressed in white satin, praying with an older woman.  They were in the screened off women's prayer area. I couldn't help clicking the shutter knowing that the rattan screen would allow me to capture the moment without distracting them from their ritual.

I would like to have photographed the mihrab and the sultan’s loge, but I respected the sign asking visitors not to go beyond the railing into the area where the faithful were still praying.  I’ll just have to take my long lens next time.

Next Up: Sultanahmet Square — Or is it the Hippodrome?

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