Instead of fitting into simplified geographical labels, there’s a strong sense of being part of a culture formed in the crossroads of Europe and Asia, shaped by both the legacy of the Ottoman Empire and the reforms of the modern Turkish republic. Many people see themselves as belonging to a distinct Turkish identity.

Hagia Sophia’s Thousand-Year Transformation

Our first stop was the magnificent Hagia Sophia, a structure that embodies Istanbul’s identity more than any other building. Originally constructed by Byzantine Emperor Justinian I between 532 and 537 CE, this architectural marvel has undergone many transformations.

The building’s history reads like a political timeline of empires. For nearly a millennium, it served as the principal cathedral of Eastern Christianity until 1453, when Sultan Mehmed II converted it into a mosque following the Ottoman conquest of Constantinople. The Ottomans didn’t destroy the Christian elements but rather incorporated them into their Islamic architecture, adding minarets, a mihrab, and a minbar while preserving many of the original Byzantine mosaics. Even today it remains the centre of politics, having witnessed protesters unfurling a “Free Palestine” sign, before quickly removing it, presumably for a social media campaign. Other sensitive topics like the Armenian genocide and the population exchange with Greece reflect ongoing struggles with historical memory and national identity. Our guide tended to avoid these questions, due to their political sensitivity.

The transformation continued into the modern era when Mustafa Kemal Atatürk converted it into a museum in 1934, symbolizing Turkey’s secular reforms. For 86 years, it existed as a unique blend of Christian and Islamic heritage until July 2020, when it was reconverted to a mosque. This most recent change sparked international debate, but it ensures that this architectural wonder continues to serve as a living, breathing place of worship rather than merely a historical artifact.

What captures visitors’ attention immediately are the massive circular calligraphic roundels – some of the largest in the Islamic world. These wooden panels, inscribed by the Ottoman calligrapher Kazasker Mustafa İzzet Efendi, display the names of Allah, Prophet Muhammad, the first four caliphs (Abu Bakr, Umar, Uthman, and Ali), and Muhammad’s grandsons Hassan and Hussein.

The Christian mosaics that survive today offer glimpses into Byzantine artistry. During the Ottoman period, many were plastered over but not destroyed, allowing for their later restoration during the museum years.

The Blue Mosque: Six Minarets and an Architectural Controversy

Directly across from Hagia Sophia stands the Sultan Ahmed Mosque, better known as the Blue Mosque, completed in 1616 during the reign of Sultan Ahmed I. The mosque was designed by architect Sedefkar Mehmed Ağa as an imperial show of strength to complement the imposing Hagia Sophia. Its most distinctive feature – six minarets – caused considerable controversy when first built, as only the Prophet’s mosque in Mecca possessed the same number. Unlike Hagia Sophia’s converted structure, the Blue Mosque was purpose-built as a place of Islamic worship.

Minarets serve both functional and symbolic purposes. Their number indicates a mosque’s importance: most mosques have one minaret, significant mosques have two, and only the most important imperial mosques have four or more. Originally, muezzins climbed these towers five times daily to call the faithful to prayer, with the call projecting in all directions from the circular galleries.

The mosque earned its popular name from the more than 20,000 handmade İznik tiles that adorn its interior. These ceramic masterpieces feature intricate designs of tulips, roses, carnations, and lilies in predominantly blue hues, beautifully illuminated by 260 windows. The craftsmanship represents the pinnacle of Ottoman ceramic art, with each tile contributing to a harmonious whole that creates an almost meditative atmosphere.

During our visit, we observed the quiet distribution of Qurans to interested visitors, reflecting the mosque’s role as both a place of worship and cultural exchange.

The Basilica Cistern’s Mysterious Depths

Built in the 6th century during Emperor Justinian I’s reign, this underground marvel was designed to supply water to the Great Palace of Constantinople and Hagia Sophia. The engineering achievement is staggering: 336 marble columns, each approximately 9 meters tall, arranged in 12 rows of 28 columns, supporting the weight of the vaulted ceiling above.

The cistern’s most intriguing features are the Medusa heads serving as column bases. These carved blocks were discovered during restoration work between 1985 and 1987, having remained hidden for centuries.

Several explanations exist for these mysterious sculptures. Some historians believe the heads were intentionally placed upside down to neutralize Medusa’s legendary power to turn viewers to stone. Others suggest they were simply repurposed architectural elements from earlier Roman buildings, positioned for purely structural reasons. A third theory proposes they were placed as protective talismans against evil spirits.

The cistern’s Islamic history reveals an interesting cultural perspective on flowing versus still water. When the Ottomans conquered Constantinople, they largely abandoned the cistern because Islamic tradition considers moving water more spiritually pure than stored water. This cultural preference led to the cistern’s gradual neglect until its rediscovery and restoration in the modern era.

The atmospheric lighting and the sound of water dropping from the ceiling create an almost mystical environment that makes visitors feel like they’re exploring an underground cathedral. The wooden walkways allow close examination of the varied column capitals, some Corinthian, others Ionic or Doric, evidence that the builders sourced materials from diverse ancient structures throughout the empire.

Imperial Opulence: Inside Topkapi Palace

Topkapi Palace served as the primary residence of Ottoman sultans for nearly 400 years, and walking through its courtyards and chambers offers an intimate glimpse into imperial life. The palace complex is vast, containing multiple courtyards, residential quarters, administrative buildings, and the famous Harem, where the sultan’s family and concubines lived in seclusion.

The palace’s Sacred Relics chamber houses one of the world’s most significant collections of Islamic artifacts. These relics were brought to Istanbul in 1517 when Sultan Selim I conquered the holy cities of Mecca and Medina, establishing himself as Caliph. The collection includes items purportedly belonging to Prophet Muhammad himself: strands of hair from his beard, a tooth, his footprint, several swords, and most significantly, the Blessed Mantle (Hırka-i Saadet).

The chamber where these relics are displayed maintains a profound spiritual atmosphere, with an imam continuously reciting Quranic verses, a practice that has continued for centuries.

Whether one believes in the authenticity of these artifacts or not, their historical significance as symbols of Islamic leadership and spiritual authority is undeniable. The scholarly consensus confirms that Prophet Muhammad was indeed a historical figure who lived in western Arabia during the early 7th century CE, supported by contemporary Byzantine, Syrian, and Armenian sources.

The palace also contains remarkable examples of Ottoman craftsmanship and design. The tile work throughout the complex rivals that of Portugal’s Sintra Palace but with distinctly Turkish colour palettes and motifs[highlighted in visitor notes]. The various reception halls, and the sultan’s private chambers each tell stories of ceremony, diplomacy, and daily life in the Ottoman court.

The Harem quarters, often misunderstood as merely the sultan’s private domain, actually functioned as a complex social institution housing the royal family, their servants, and administrators. The intricate tile work, painted ceilings, and carefully designed spaces reveal the sophisticated court culture that governed the Ottoman Empire at its zenith.

A Culinary Disappointment: Fine Dining Falls Short

Our evening took us to a restaurant featured in the Michelin Guide, not a starred establishment, but one included in their recommendations. The experience proved disappointing. The meal began promisingly with traditional Turkish tea, and fresh bread. However, the execution fell short. While I generally like this cuisine, I didn’t enjoy their execution of it.

We began with a mezze platter featuring chickpea yogurt, spicy tomato spreads, stuffed grape leaves, feta cheese, and hummus. It looked good, but Each dish supposedly carried historical Ottoman connections, but the preparation lacked finesse.

All red meat was cooked well-done, reflecting traditional Turkish preferences that prioritize food safety over texture. While this cooking style has deep cultural roots, this part I had trouble getting used to.

I did enjoy the restaurant’s attempt to connect each dish to Ottoman history. The finale of apple tea was genuinely excellent. Even with the historical ambiance and cultural storytelling, the experience has room for improvement by international standards.

Farewell Moments: The Human Connection

Our most meaningful experiences came not from monuments but from human connections. Saying goodbye to our tour group at a local bar revealed the true value of shared travel experiences. The group had developed strong bonds, inside jokes, and genuine friendships over just a few days. While our tour guide occasionally seemed overwhelmed by the group’s energy and humour, his professionalism and knowledge enhanced our understanding of each site significantly.

I checked in together with one of our tour group members who happen to have the same flight connection as me, but in the process, the attendant mistakenly checked one of her suitcases under my itinerary, and I noticed it too late, causing us to spend time to work with the airline to return her luggage, a process that, thankfully, worked out a day later. I also met an Indian passenger on her first flight ever – traveling from India to Turkey to Frankfurt to Canada.

These moments reminded us that while Istanbul’s historic sites provide the framework for exploration, the people we meet, fellow travelers, guides, and locals enriches sightseeing into genuine cultural exchange. The laughter, shared observations, and collective wonder at ancient achievements created memories that we will carry with us.

Practical Observations: Modern Istanbul’s Challenges

The economic challenges facing Turkey were evident in pricing that approaches American levels despite significantly lower local wages. Inflation rates exceeding 47% in late 2024 have created substantial pressure on both residents and visitors. Unlike some nations, Turkey didn’t engage in excessive pandemic spending; however, several distinct factors have fueled inflation, such as persistent currency devaluation, lowering interest rates in the face of rising prices, and heavy reliance on imported goods (some even highly taxed). The political situation continues to generate debate, with critics arguing that democratic institutions have been weakened while supporters maintain that stability has been preserved.

The taxi situation in Istanbul remains problematic for tourists, with widespread reports of scams including overcharging, longer routes, and “broken” meters. The prevalence of these issues suggests systemic problems that detract from the city’s tourism appeal. Using public transportation or pre-arranged transfers appears advisable for visitors.

Istanbul’s airport stands out for its striking design and enormous scale (albeit with less than sufficient air conditioning), and amenities like business lounges with a mini golf course and a pool table give arriving travellers a strong first impression. However, this impressive gateway doesn’t fully hide the economic and social challenges that many people in Turkey face beyond its sleek halls.

See more of Istanbul here

The Stork Highway of Ancient Rome

Walking through Selçuk’s streets during the ongoing heat wave, we couldn’t help but notice the most unusual sight: massive white storks perched confidently atop Roman aqueduct ruins and modern utility poles alike. These aren’t just random visitors – they’re part of an annual migration pattern that has turned this historic town into Turkey’s unofficial stork capital.

Every March, storks return to Selçuk from their winter homes in sub-Saharan Africa. The storks choose the highest points available for their nests, including the remnants of Byzantine aqueducts that once supplied water to ancient Ephesus. Local authorities have even installed special platforms on utility poles to prevent the birds from electrocution while preserving their traditional nesting sites.

Mysteries of the Multi-Breasted Goddess

Our visit to the Ephesus Museum revealed one of archaeology’s most debated artifacts: a towering statue covered in what appears to be dozens of breasts. This is the famous Artemis of Ephesus, but those protuberances might not be what they seem.

The 292-centimetre-tall statue actually represents a fascinating scholarly controversy. While traditionally interpreted as multiple breasts symbolizing fertility, many experts now believe these oval objects are bull testicles, hung as offerings during sacrificial ceremonies. Some scholars even suggest they could be bee larvae, as bees were sacred to Artemis. What makes this debate particularly intriguing is that none of the “breasts” have nipples – a detail that ancient sculptors, masters of human anatomy, would hardly have overlooked.

This statue likely stood in the Temple of Artemis, one of the Seven Wonders of the Ancient World, making it a tangible connection to one of antiquity’s most celebrated structures. The temple’s destruction by 401 CE means this museum piece represents our closest link to understanding how the ancient world venerated this powerful goddess.

Where Emperors Built Upon Apostles

The ruins of the Basilica of Saint John dominate Ayasoluk Hill, their weathered stones telling a story of imperial ambition, religious devotion, and inevitable decay. Emperor Justinian I commissioned this massive structure between 548 and 565 CE, designing it as both a pilgrimage destination and a worthy monument to house the tomb of John the Apostle.

The basilica measured 428 by 213 feet, making it potentially the seventh-largest church in the world if reconstructed today. Justinian modeled it after the Church of the Holy Apostles in Constantinople, creating a cruciform structure crowned with six domes. The builders incorporated materials from the nearby Temple of Artemis and other Ephesian ruins, recycling ancient marble and stones into Christian architecture.

The basilica’s decline began with Arab raids in the 7th and 8th centuries, which forced the construction of defensive walls around the structure. By 1304, invading Seljuk Turks converted part of the building into a mosque, and in 1402, Tamerlane’s Mongol army destroyed it during their invasion. Earthquakes in the 1360s completed the devastation, leaving the impressive ruins we see today.

A Castle Built on Sacred Ground

Crowning Ayasoluk Hill above the basilica ruins stands a fortress that represents the practical realities of medieval defense. The Ayasoluk Castle, built during the Byzantine era around the 6th century CE, incorporates stones from dismantled Roman buildings, including materials from Ephesian structures.

The castle’s strategic position made it valuable to successive rulers. Seljuk Turks expanded it after conquering the area in 1090, and Ottoman forces later added their own modifications. The fortress enclosed fifteen towers connected by 1.5 kilometres of walls, protecting a small community that included a mosque, cisterns, baths, and residential quarters.

What makes this castle particularly fascinating is its relationship with the basilica below. Rather than destroying the Christian site, medieval builders incorporated it into their defensive strategy, using the basilica’s walls as part of the lower fortress complex. This created unique architecture where Islamic military architecture literally rests upon Christian sacred space.

Divine Intervention at the Neighbourhood Mosque

Our exploration of Selçuk’s religious landscape led us to the İsa Bey Mosque, a remarkable example of 14th-century Anatolian architecture. Built between 1374-75 by Syrian architect Ali ibn el-Dimişki, this mosque demonstrates the transitional period between Seljuk and Ottoman architectural styles.

The mosque’s segregated prayer areas for women represent traditional Islamic practice, though such arrangements can appear restrictive to visitors from different cultural backgrounds. These architectural divisions reflect religious interpretations that prioritize modesty and separate worship spaces, practices that have shaped Islamic religious architecture for centuries.

During our visit, we discovered that the mosque offers free Quran copies to interested visitors – a practice that connects contemporary Islamic outreach with the site’s long history as a religious centre. While there, we met a local man who was especially eager to talk to us about Islam. He explained that he hadn’t actually planned to visit the mosque at that time; he was on his way to complete some errands, but on a whim decided to stop by and pick up a Quran for a friend. Instead, he ran into us and was convinced that our meeting was no coincidence, telling us he believed it was divine intervention.

Our conversation quickly turned philosophical. He earnestly shared his belief that the Quran contains the answers to every question in life, presenting it as the ultimate guide to truth. At one point, he shared a rather striking perspective: he said that people who believe in God are the highest tier of lifeforms, followed by animals, with people who don’t believe, especially those who “act like they are their own god”, ranking below animals. I couldn’t help but laugh internally, realizing that by his definition I must be beneath the neighborhood cats lounging in the sun! He meant no offense, his words were offered with sincerity and a desire to share his worldview. Still, I got the impression he didn’t realize we weren’t religious ourselves, or how his ranking might sound to an outsider.

Echoes of the Population Exchange

Our journey to Şirince village, perched on a hillside 8 kilometres from Selçuk, revealed one of Turkey’s most poignant historical legacies. This mountaintop settlement, originally called Çirkince (meaning “ugly” in Turkish), was supposedly named by its Greek founders to deter other settlers from discovering their mountain paradise.

The village prospered under its Greek Orthodox Christian population, who spoke primarily Turkish despite their religious identity. By 1908-09, over 1,000 houses sheltered Greek families who cultivated vines, tobacco, figs, and olives while maintaining their distinct cultural traditions.

The 1923 Population Exchange between Greece and Turkey devastated Şirince’s established community. This compulsory transfer, formalized in the Convention Concerning the Exchange of Greek and Turkish Populations, displaced approximately 1.6 million people based solely on religious affiliation. Greek Orthodox Christians from Turkish territories moved to Greece, while Muslims from Greece relocated to Turkey. The abandoned houses we encountered represent this traumatic displacement.

The Grandeur and Complexity of Ancient Ephesus

The archaeological site of Ephesus, directly connected to modern Selçuk, represents one of the Mediterranean’s most significant Roman cities. As we walked among its ruins during the intensifying heat wave, the scale and sophistication of this ancient metropolis became immediately apparent. A local restaurant owner’s joke about Efes beer – suggesting we walk a few kilometres toward ancient Ephesus since “Efes” is simply the Turkish name for the ancient city – highlighted how thoroughly this archaeological site integrates with the culture. The beer’s naming represents a modern commercial connection to ancient prestige.

The Temple of Artemis ruins, reduced now to a single reconstructed column, still commanded respect as the remains of one of the Seven Wonders of the Ancient World. Though little survives of this massive structure, which once measured 137 metres long and featured 127 columns each standing 18 metres high, the site’s significance resonates across millennia.

Ephesus declined through a combination of geographical and political factors. The Küçük Menderes River gradually silted up the harbour, cutting the city’s vital connection to maritime trade routes. Natural disasters, including a devastating earthquake in 614 CE, damaged infrastructure repeatedly. The rise of Christianity displaced traditional pagan worship, while Gothic invasions in 262 CE destroyed much of the city, including the Temple of Artemis.

I was captivated by how Ephesus’s grandeur was engineered. The ancients combined brute force and technical innovation. Iron pins and lead clamps held massive marble slabs together, damping seismic shocks and locking the city’s great structures in place (though unlikely they knew how well that method would stand up to an actual earthquake).

Workers used wooden cranes, pulleys, and earth ramps to raise monolithic columns, guiding tonnes of stone into precise positions.

We realized that knowing Latin wouldn’t have helped us decipher most Ephesian inscriptions. The city’s later inscriptions switched entirely to Greek, the region’s lingua franca after Alexander the Great’s conquest. An odd feeling – usually we lament not knowing Latin, but this time, it wouldn’t have helped at all. Amid these weighty ruins, we saw samples of the ichthys fish symbol (colloquially known as the Jesus fish symbol), scratched into ancient stones, symbolizing early Christianity. In Greek, it’s written as ΙΧΘΥΣ, and is sometimes seen abbreviated using a symbol resembling a pizza cut into eight slices.

The Temple That Bridged Empires

Among Ephesus’s countless architectural treasures, the Temple of Hadrian stands as a masterpiece of cultural synthesis. This elegantly proportioned structure, built around 117 CE, demonstrates how Roman architects embraced and transformed Eastern design traditions through its distinctive Syrian arch.

The temple’s facade tells multiple stories through stone. Tyche, goddess of city fortune, crowns the keystone wearing walls as her crown, symbolizing her protection over Ephesian prosperity. Above the inner doorway, a relief of Medusa emerges from acanthus leaves, not the terrifying monster of myth, but a protective figure surrounded by the Mediterranean vegetation that inspired Corinthian column designs.

Roman Domestic Life Preserved in Paint

The Terrace Houses of Ephesus shattered our expectations of ancient Roman domestic architecture. These luxury residences, inhabited by wealthy families from the 1st to 7th centuries CE, revealed that Roman homes were far more colourful and sophisticated than typical stone ruins suggest.

The houses featured extensive frescoed walls with floral motifs, geometric patterns, and figurative scenes painted directly onto plaster surfaces. Archaeologists have carefully restored many of these paintings, revealing the artistic sophistication of domestic Roman decoration. The mosaic floors display intricate geometric and figural designs, demonstrating the high level of craftsmanship available to Ephesian elite. These restorations represent authentic ancient artwork, not modern interpretations.

The houses incorporated sophisticated engineering, including hypocaust heating systems that circulated warm air beneath floors and within walls, and plumbing that provided both hot and cold running water. These amenities matched those available in Roman public baths, demonstrating the luxury standards of Ephesian wealthy families.

The Library That Conquered Death

The Library of Celsus stands as Ephesus’s most iconic structure, and deservedly so. This magnificent building, constructed between 110-135 CE, served the dual purpose of housing scrolls and honouring the dead. Tiberius Julius Aquila commissioned the library as a memorial to his father, Tiberius Julius Celsus Polemaeanus, who had served as Roman consul and proconsul of Asia. The building functioned as both a repository of knowledge, holding approximately 12,000 scrolls, and as Celsus’s mausoleum – his marble sarcophagus rests in a crypt beneath the building.

Fire destroyed the library’s interior around 262 CE, though the façade survived until earthquakes brought it down in the 10th or 11th century. Austrian archaeologists reconstructed the façade between 1970 and 1978, creating the impressive sight that draws crowds today for both daytime visits and evening light shows.

As we left, we saw people lined up for hundreds of meters lining up to see the evening light show – many of them coming in from cruise ships.

See more images from Selçuk and Ancient Ephesus

The Campaign That Changed Nations

The Gallipoli Campaign, known to Turks as the Battle of Çanakkale, began on April 25, 1915, when Allied forces attempted to force passage through the Dardanelles Strait. The strategic objective was ambitious: capture Constantinople (modern-day Istanbul), knock the Ottoman Empire out of the war, and establish a supply route to Russia through the Black Sea. What planners expected to be a swift operation instead became an eight-month ordeal that would define the national consciousness of Turkey, Australia, and New Zealand.

The peninsula, stretching approximately 60 kilometres into the Aegean Sea, became the stage for one of history’s most brutal campaigns. The terrain itself posed enormous challenges – rugged cliffs, steep ravines, and scrubland that offered little cover but countless hiding places for defenders. The geography that made Gallipoli strategically valuable also made it nearly impossible to conquer.

The Making of Atatürk

Among the Ottoman commanders defending Gallipoli was a 34-year-old lieutenant colonel named Mustafa Kemal, who would later become known as Atatürk, the founder of modern Turkey. His actions at Gallipoli, particularly his defense of Chunuk Bair, established him as the “Rock of Gallipoli” and catapulted him into national prominence.

Kemal’s tactical brilliance and inspirational leadership during the campaign became legendary. When he famously told his troops, “I am not ordering you to attack, I am ordering you to die,” he embodied the desperate determination that would ultimately repel the Allied invasion.

Kemal’s success at Gallipoli wasn’t just tactical; it was transformational. His ability to coordinate defenses, inspire troops, and maintain morale under impossible circumstances demonstrated the leadership qualities that would later make him the founding father of the Turkish Republic. The victory at Gallipoli became a cornerstone of Turkish national identity and pride, representing the last great stand of the Ottoman Empire and the birth of modern Turkey.

The Staggering Scale of Loss and a Personal Connection to History

The numbers behind the Gallipoli Campaign reveal its devastating human cost. Over 559,000 Allied personnel participated in the campaign, facing more than 300,000 Ottoman defenders. The casualty figures paint a sobering picture of the campaign’s brutality. The Ottoman Empire paid the highest price, with over 87,000 deaths and 300,000 total casualties. Among the Allied forces, Britain and Ireland lost 29,500 lives, Australia 8,709, New Zealand 2,779, and France 12,000. These numbers represent not just military statistics but entire generations of young men who never returned home.

In our tour group, there was a woman from New Zealand whose family story brought the campaign’s human cost into sharp focus. She found the grave of her grandfather’s cousin, who had died during the campaign. Through the Commonwealth War Graves Commission records, she located his final resting place among the rows of white headstones that now mark the peninsula’s cemeteries. She later shared that other family members had survived Gallipoli only to die later at the Battle of the Somme, where over 57,000 British casualties occurred on a single day.

A Source of National Pride

For Turkey, Gallipoli represents far more than a military victory – it embodies the spirit of national resistance and the birth of modern Turkish identity. The campaign is celebrated as a defining moment when Ottoman forces, under Kemal’s leadership, successfully repelled a major Allied invasion. This victory became a rallying point for Turkish nationalism and continues to be commemorated as a source of immense national pride.

The Turkish government established the Gallipoli Peninsula Historical National Park in 1973, covering over 33,000 hectares and including it in the United Nations list of National Parks and Protected Areas. The park serves both as a historical preserve and a place of pilgrimage for Turks, who visit in large numbers to pay their respects to the “Martyrs of Çanakkale”.

See more photos of Gallipoli here