Today Refreshed

Anna Foster - Today Programme

I have been a less regular listener to the Today Programme since the start of the year. It seemed to have lost its vitality and focus since the loss of Mishal Husain. Her professionalism and sharp focus had kept other presenters on the ball. Her temporary replacements, Jonny Dymond, Simon Jack and Katya Adler, had kept things ticking over, but Emma Barnett did not seem to be a team player. She is a loose cannon, unaware of her brutal style that irks interviewees and this listener. 

Nick Robinson and Amol Rajan were spending time on other projects, including their Today Podcast, which is usually very good but it did not please Justin Webb. He had been involved on occasion but thought it overlapped with the Americast, his podcast with Sarah Smith. 

Then, the new presenter, Anna Foster, arrived on air.  She was in Thailand on her first day, covering the Myanmar earthquake. Her easy style brought out the best in the people she interviewed; she made a seamless connection with Nick Robinson in London, and they were a team. The Today Programme was back on track. Amol had already interviewed her on the Today podcast, and they had vowed to look forward to working together. She will no doubt rescue Justin from his grumpiness and cope with Emma, just as she does with everyone else in her fresh and positive manner. 

End of the American Dream

Liberation or End of the American Dream 

I was asked what sort of coffee I wanted. I paused before requesting a cappuccino; normally, I would order an americano. I had had it with Trump's America and been influenced by the Canadians and French, who had decided to boycott products from the USA in response to Trump's tariffs and treatment of Ukraine and Gaza. Not to mention his tryst with Putin. I would join them, singing it softly with my choice of coffee

It was an easy decision. I had given up Coca-Cola and Pepsi in 1972 because I disliked fizzy, sugary drinks. I had abandoned the Sunday Times when it was bought by News International in 1981 and refused to subscribe to Sky Television for the same reason. I have never revisited any American fast food outlet following my daughter's birthday party at a Burger King in 1987. I never bought a Ford, Vauxhall, or Tesla because they had built-in obsolescence when I was younger and are less well-made than European cars.  

I visited the USA seven times from 1979 to 2014 and loved the magnificent scenery from Yosemite to Canyonlands to the West Coast and the Black Hills of Dakota. But the American Dream was becoming a faded nightmare, I despaired at the desolation of Great American Cities, the massive Trailer Parks that surround many towns and house low earners, migrants and the excluded. They are part of the rampant inequalities that make a mockery of the American Dream. Woodie Guthrie called it right in 'This Land is Your Land' but Trump has sacrificed humanity and just wants ‘Your Land to be His Land’. 

US governments have tried to usurp democratic governments from Vietnam to Chile to Grenada to Ukraine, and Trump is making eyes at Panama, Canada, Greenland and Gaza. The beneficent policies of F.D. Roosevelt, Trueman and Eisenhower in the war years and thereafter in supporting and then rebuilding Europe have been progressively diluted in the past two decades. American companies had plundered other countries for minerals, cheap food, manufactured goods and state enterprises. These companies have bought out local businesses, and hedge funds have stripped many businesses worldwide. Meanwhile, the corporate giants foraged for defence and security contracts and poured oil into trouble spots. Their hegemony was absolute after the collapse of the USSR.

During recent discussions with friends, it became apparent that many were considering how to respond to the America First, anti-European sentiments espoused by Trump and his acolytes in government. How could we take individual action? It was clear that the UK government was too timid and supine to act like Canada and challenge Trump. Maybe we should take action 'for the people by the people'; Abe Lincoln said that. We have witnessed European and Canadian car buyers trashing Tesla by no longer buying them with the share price dropping 44% ($462.28 - $259.27) from  Christmas, 2024 to 31 March 2025. 

Given that Trump has called Wednesday, 2 April 2025, Liberation Day. Let us use our liberty to exercise our choice of goods and services and examine whether we want to continue to support the paragons of American global enterprise. Here are some starter suggestions of American companies that would maybe kick back at Trump if we redirected our spending elsewhere. 

1. Travel: forego the United States, go to Europe, Canada, Mexico or Japan

2. Holiday Bookings: Airbnb, booking.com, TripAdvisor - use local websites and cut out the American middleman

3. Social Media: Facebook, Netflix, X, YouTube, Sky, Disney+, Discovery, Instagram, Pinterest, Linkedin - choose life instead

4. Tech Companies: IBM, Google, Microsoft, Apple, Cisco, Bloomberg - maybe this is easier said than done

5. Online retailers: Amazon, eBay, Etsy - buy local or from UK/European websites

6. Fast food and coffee: eat healthily and give up McDonald's, KFC, Burger King, Pizza Hut, Subway, Papa John's, Starbucks

7. Food and Drink: Cadbury's, Coca-Cola, Fanta, Heinz, Kellogs, Kraft, Nabisco, Pepsi, Costco - stop buying processed food and sugary drinks

7. Clothing: GAP, Levi's, Abercrombie and Fitch, J Crew, Ralph Lauren, Patagonia - use charity shops and buy less

8. Other shit: American Express,  ExxonMobil, Xbox, Sonos, Boeing, Jack Daniel's, United Health Group, Care UK and there are a lot more like these out there

9. Cars: Ford, Tesla, Jeep - European, Japanese and Korean are better quality

10. Football teams: Arsenal. Aston Villa, Bournemouth, Chelsea, Fulham, Ctrystal Palace, Ipswich, Liverpool, Manchester United - Support your local team instead, although they are probably sponsored by a betting company 

If I could keep just three from room 101, mmm...., Apple, Liverpool and maybe at a future date, the United States. Reconciliation begets retribution.

'For us, there is only the trying. The rest is not our business.' TS Eliot

The Crow Short

 25 March 2025

It would have been Aileen's birthday. I went downstairs at 6:45 a.m. to make a bowl of porridge and a coffee to have in bed as I caught up on the news and listened to a podcast. There was a strange sharp pinging noise as I descended the stairs, no hot water from the tap and when I tried the lights they were off as well. I checked the trip switches, and they were ok. I phoned Alyn next door, and she had the same problem, so I phoned SSE on 105 and explained the issues. they had already had a report and were despatching an engineer to discover the problem. They were remarkably efficient, and within minutes, a message appeared indicating that they hoped to have power back by 10 a.m.

I had a summer breakfast instead, a bowl of cereal, a banana and juice, had a shower and went to Tradstocks to see the progress on Aileen's headstone. My neighbour, Summer, came round to show me the draft of some children's books she had been writing in Mandarin and English. They looked impressive and she asked if I could look at the English in the second of the books. I had previously made suggestions for the first book. There was still no electricity but we managed to transfer the text and illustrations on our phones by WhatsApp. Something to look at later once the electricity allows me to fire up the laptop.

It was a glorious March morning with hooloovoo blue skies (check Hitch Hiker's Guide to the Galaxy). Summer was here and I had opened the doors onto the garden for the first time all year. I noticed a group of men in yellow jackets, one of them at the top of the wooden electricity pylon about 200 metres away in the adjacent field. I wandered down to discover if this was the problem. The SSE engineer was climbing down the pylon, and the other engineers were packing their equipment. They had rectified the fault caused by a shortage on one of the power lines. They had discovered a small branch lodged on one of the phase conductors, which had shorted the system. 

They thought it had possibly been dropped there by a bird. This was highly likely to be one of the crows or rooks that nest along the nearby Boquhapple Burn. Twenty nests are being built in the Ash trees. It was almost exactly a year ago that one of the crows came down my flue and survived. There again, Hooloovoos are super intelligent and known for their capability to manipulate matter and energy! The team of five engineers seemed pleased that they had solved the problem. The lead engineer left in haste for the village substation to switch the electricity back on for the 34 houses that had lost power. It was 10:10 a.m. Slightly later than estimated, but power outages happen for all sorts of reasons. Whether crows or Hooloovoos. 

It wasn't just power that had been reinstated; the glorious sunshine had created a warmth that had the flowers gaping, the grass growing, and the garden awaiting. A day that Aileen would have loved.

The branch was lodged in the phase conductor

Pylon framing Ben Ledi

Good Job - the SSE engineers

Aileen planted these

Istanbul - The Full Bosphorus and Reflections

Entering the Black Sea

Day 4

A six-hour sail along the Bosphorus to the Black Sea was the intention. I left early and arrived at Eminonu with an hour to spare. I retraced my steps of yesterday evening into the Spice Market and found a large spice store and with no hesitation bought 4 large packets of spices and enough Turkish Delight to fill my rucksack. It would be useful for presents and as a substitute for wine if I ever get invited to dinner. It used up my Turkish lire that I should have spent on a visit to Topkapi Palace had I not objected to the discrimination of admission prices. 

The large steamer for the Bosphorus cruise left at 10:30am with only 40 or 50 passengers. Unlike the previous days, the pure blue skies were absent, and a cool breeze meant I spent quite a bit of the time reading a book in the lounge before moving to the open deck once we sailed under the second bridge, and I was in new territory. The continuously built-up suburbs of Istanbul were left behind. Smaller settlements were nestled along the shore on both the Asian and European sides, and most of them had a ferry terminal.  Today's cruise by-passed them until the final two before the entrance to the Black Sea under the Yanuz Sultan Seim,  the third massive bridge that spans the Bosphorus. The cruise stopped at Anadolu Kavagh, an old fishing village on the Asian side, just before the third bridge. 

There was a 2-hour stopover, and I immediately set out for the Yoros Kalesi (castle)twin towers that loomed over the village. A twisting road and then a steep footpath led to the summit of the hill and the fortresses that overlooked the entrance to the Bosphorus. The views were impressive, with a constant stream of tankers and other vessels passing under the bridge. There are 400 ships a day entering or leaving the Black Sea. The castle had been used by the Byzantines, Ottomans and Genoese as a base to control the entrance to the strait at its narrowest point as it enters the Black Sea. A dozen or so passengers from the cruise climbed to the summit before retiring to the village with more fish restaurants than houses. They were totally dependent on the daily cruise visitors. I ordered a large salad and a beer as I whiled away the hour before the boat began the journey back. The winds had increased, and the Bosphorus was choppy on the cruise back to Eminonu.

Despite the fairly easy day, I still suffered from sore feet and an unusual tiredness, but I found the energy to take a fuller look at the Egyptian Bazaar and the New Mosque before exploring the streets leading back to Sultanahmet. I had a fascinating conversation with a young student from Indonesia as we both observed a long queue of older men receiving food parcels from a temporary building next to the mosque. He had flown to Istanbul at the start of a six-week holiday culminating in a visit to Mecca. 

My appetite had not been great during the visit; I had been suffering with flu-like symptoms so I resisted an evening meal, deciding that a plate of Baklava and a coffee would be sufficient for my final night in Istanbul. As on most evenings, the hotel manager questioned me on where I had been. He spoke good English and had a fairly poor opinion of what was happening in Turkey. He thought the city was a mess with congestion, and poor upkeep of the buildings, roads and pavements. It imported too many goods, which were then relabeled as Turkish. He was dismissive of Turkish farming; most fruit and vegetables were now imported. Istanbul had attracted too many people seeking to make easy money from tourism and too many shops and restaurants competing for tourists. It was no surprise that the economy was in the doldrums.. Although this sounded a bit cynical from someone dependent on the tourist industry, it was articulated with a cogency that gave it traction. I resisted asking him about the political shenanigans brewing in Istanbul, where President Erdogan had become unpopular as the economy tanked and the secular mayor of Istanbul had become a serious candidate to become the main opposition leader at the next election.

The plane departing back to Edinburgh left at 2pm, but you need to be at the airport a couple of hours in advance. It takes almost 2 hours to get there. I caught a train from Kumkapi to Yenikapi, a Metro to Gayreteppe and then another Metro to the airport and arrived at 11:30am.  I was pleasantly surprised by how well the airport worked as I passed through the flight desk, passport and baggage control. It was so much quicker and well-managed than Edinburgh or Heathrow. I had been critical of the immense size and grandeur of the airport on arrival, but it seemed less of a problem on departure with well-functioning operations. It was not peak season, and Turkish Airlines, the main operator, had set high standards. The gates were close to the large departure lounges, which had good seating, numerous eateries and 'duty-free' outlets in the cavernous halls of the airport. 

We arrived on time in Edinburgh but it took 25 minutes to get through passport control which was totally understaffed. My luggage had done several laps of the carousel and only after reporting it lost did I realise that I had failed to recognise it in the sea of black suitcases. As usual, the much-vaunted trams were running empty, and the buses that ran to many destinations had healthy queues.

On the journey home I reflected that I had waited 50 years to get to Istanbul, now the most visited city in the world. It had quenched my curiosity and there were many aspects that I really enjoyed - a world heritage site, its mosques and history, the ferries on the Bosphorus, the variety of busy townships on both the Asian and European sides of the Bosphorus, the blue skies that greeted me on most days and the bustle of a truly international city. With a population of 15 million, it would be the largest city in Europe, but half of it is in Asia. Turkey would be the largest country in Europe with 86 million people if it were not mainly in Asia. Turkey would like to be in the EU, and who knows what will happen as the world tries to settle Ukraine's future peace and security as Trump's America slips into isolation and loses the respect and trust of the free world.

Tram stop at Eminonu

The Egyptian (Spice) Market

The surrounding streets of the Spice Market

Midway along the Bosphorus

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The third Bridge at the entrance to the Black Sea

Yoros Castle

Looking back down the Bosphorus from Yorus Castle

The Black Sea from Yorus Castle

Seafront properties near Rumeli Kavagi

 

Istanbul Airport - voted best in the world

Istanbul Modern Museum, Galatasaray and Egyptian Market

Bosphorus Days

By the third day, I was anxious to relax a little so I headed for the Istanbul Modern Museum at Karakoy. The building is on the shores of the Bosphorus below Galatasary, the affluent and bohemian sector of the city wedged between the Golden Horn and the Bosphorus. It was a good choice, the tram took me to the door and I was more or less the first to enter. The large three-story building designed by Renzo Piano accentuated the x-axis, unlike the Shard. It looked out over the Bosphorus and was a berthing place for cruise ships. 

The first-floor exhibition spaces were given over to two exhibitions. The first was by a Japanese artist, Chiharu Shiota, who had installed the entire space with what looked like a red spider's web which you could tunnel your way around, abandoned suitcases are randomly scattered betwixt the tunnels and are meant to provide memories of travelling 'between worlds'. I was staggered at the work involved in the installation and surprised when one of the curators told me that kilometres of carefully knotted red yarn had been erected in two weeks. It was a three-dimensional yarn bombing that you could sashay through in warped time and space.

Next up was a wonderful exhibition of 125 photographs by Turkish Photographer Izzet Keribar. They covered Istanbul from the 1950s to the 1980s and also a staggering collection of photographs from his world travels. Several of these brought back strong memories of locations  in India, Namibia, Cambodia, and Vietnam that Aileen and I had visited. There was also a superb photograph of the Lofoten Islands in Norway, a place Aileen always wanted to visit. We had planned a trip there just before COVID struck, an evocative non memory.

On the next floor was a selection of permanent exhibits of Turkish modern art installations called Floating Islands. They included large canvases, videos and spaces to 'turn off your mind, relax and float downstream'. (see video) After this, I climbed the stairs to the rooftop space with a shallow pond crowded with birds that gave a fine viewpoint over the Bosphorus and the nearby Nusretiye Mosque. Quite a few students were enjoying themselves and beyond the roof pond, the buildings clawed their way up the hill to Galatasaray.  After a coffee and cake in the museum cafe, my compulsive inclination to climb hills kicked in and I began the lung-bursting ascent towards Istiklal Caddesi, the principal shopping street in Galatasaray and Istanbul.

As I reached Istikal Cad, I entered a stream of happy shoppers on a pedestrianised street that was definitely European, even Marks and Spencer and Decathlon were present. The only interruption to the swarms of shoppers were old tramcars that dinged and donged down the street every 10 minutes. I headed uphill towards Taksim Square where the new Taksim Mosque, Republic Monument and cavernous underground Metro Station are the attractions perched on the periphery of the massive public square. I was asked to take some photos of a young family from Iran. They were enthralled by Istanbul and they had a global perspective, humanity and intelligence that reprised my respect for Iranian people first inspired by an Iranian colleague when at University.

I descended into the brutal concrete bowels of Galatasaray, Taksim Metro station, and hopped down to the next stop, Shishane. It overlooked the Golden Horn and the streets provided a route to the waterfront and the Galata Bridge. Dozens of fishermen were dangling their lines into the Halic estuary once renowned for sparkling with silver fish. Today the sea has been polluted by years of diesel vessels but still provides buckets of small fish. The next objective was a long trip on the Bosphorus to the entrance of the Black Sea. My timing was bad and there was only the short trip available which I had already done by riding the ferries on Day 1. I jumped on the next ferry to Uskadar in Asia instead, a repeat excursion but the glorious weather, seabirds and a pizza in a piazza made the trip worthwhile.  I should probably have taken a ferry up the Golden Horn instead.

I arrived back at 5pm and visited the New Mosque before sauntering through the Egyptian (Spice) Bazaar. Like the Grand Bazaar, it was bustling with visitors. Each shop seemed to post a couple of well-fed, grey-stubbled men who attempted to entice you to sample the delights of their store. I remembered the advice from the video Markets of Britain, "keep walking, keep walking". I did, to the tram and back to the hotel. I collected a beer and some food at a local store for an evening snack in the hotel. After another long day with 25,000 steps and the invigoration of museums, mosques, ferries and bazaars, I could not be bothered running the gauntlet of the restaurant greeters.

Istanbul in 1950s

Ferries in Fifties

A collection of Izzet Keriber's photos from the 1950s

Izzet Keriber - Turkish Landscape

Izzet Kerriber - Roofscape

Keriber - Thai Girl

Keriber - Early Morning at Lofoten Islands - for Aileen

Galata Tower from the roof of Istanbul Modern

Nusretiye Mosque from Museum

Mosquescape across Bosporus

Istikial Cad and Tram

Republic Monument, Taksim Square

Taksim Square

Fishing from the Galata Bridge

New Mosque, Eminonu

  Tomorrow Never Knows

Four Mosques and Bosphorus Ferries

Blue Mosque and Aya Sofya Grand Mosque from the Bosphorus

Day 1 - 10 March 2025

I slept fitfully; the hotel was comfortable but located close to the Sea of Marmara, about a mile away from Sultanahmet, the cultural centre of Istanbul on the European side of the Bosphorus. It was an uphill climb through the tight streets of the workshops to get anywhere. Even Google Maps struggled to capture the tangled morphology of the city and told you nothing about the one-way systems, scooters and motorbikes on pavements that were also littered with commercial clutter. I headed uphill, trusting my sense of direction, but ended up at the gates of the University, about 30° west of where I had intended. It didn't matter; the streets were quiet on a Sunday morning, the skies were blue, the air was cool, and the buzz of excitement of a strange place was tantalising. 

I was close to the Beyazid Mosque, the oldest remaining mosque in Istanbul. It was beautifully preserved. I removed my trainers as I entered and marvelled at the splendour of the stonework, the symmetry of the building and its portico, courtyard, minarets, and muqarnas. There were only a few other visitors at this time of the day. My Lonely Planet guidebook was short on detail, so as I left the mosque, I followed my nose and wandered into the surroundings of the Grand Bazaar. There were alleys of bookshops and a cornucopia of stalls selling everything; they were bereft of the tranquillity of the mosque. I was only half a kilometre from the Blue Mosque, so I crossed the tramline and headed over to the massive public squares at Sultanahmet as the crowds began to emerge for their Sunday outings. 

There was a queue for the Blue Mosque that had free entry and was bustling with people removing their shoes. After several circuits of the mosque, gawping at the spectacular ornate tiled pillars and cupolas, I began a conversation with a young woman who was there to explain Islam. She was a Moroccan student at the university and had an eloquence, worldly perspective and moral compass that were impressive and befitting of the splendour of the Blue Mosque. 

As I left I was befriended by a man eager to show me his shop selling Turkish carpets. I had entertained the idea and accepted the invitation. After a coffee and cake and having seen about a dozen carpets that had been unfolded for me, I was asked which one I preferred. "Ah, you have excellent taste, sir. It is normally €8000, but as this is winter, you can have it for €5000, and that includes delivery charges to the UK." I shook my head. So what is your budget he asked. I told him €1500, and after he said the best he could do was €4800, I was ushered out of the shop. The coffee and cake had been good, and I was pleased that the dollar had been replaced by the euro as the universal currency. That's Making Europe Great Again, Mega. Trump is certainly losing traction.

I meandered across the huge public square and followed an umbilical cord of a queue towards the Aya Sofya, the largest mosque that was undergoing extensive repairs. It was getting hot at midday, and I decided to forego the queue and have a sail on the Bosphorus. I found the tram that ran down to the Galata Bridge and over to Kabatas, where, according to Lonely Planet, I could find a Bosphorus tour. My timing was bad, too late for the morning tour and too early for the late afternoon tour so I caught a ferry across the Bosphorus to Uskador and then a second ferry halfway up the Bosphorus to Asiyan. It was the best way to travel: near-empty ferries for the price of a coffee.  

The cool morning had been transformed into a perfect spring day, cool enough to walk along the well-constructed foot and cycle pathway along the Bosphorus to the second massive bridge that takes the E80 motorway over the Bosphorus that was busy with ocean-going tankers, grain and container ships. I caught the ferry back to Uskador and walked to the busy market area, where I had a late lunch at 4:30pm before taking a ferry back to Eminonu and a tram back to Yeniceriler, which was about a kilometre up the hill from my hotel. I managed 25,000 steps, two mosques, 4 ferries and two tram rides. Sore feet and tiredness made me forego an evening meal; it was 11pm in the UK. 

Beyasid Mosque

Blue Mosque from Sultan Ahmet Parki

Cupola of the Blue Mosque

Interior of Blue Mosque

More Blue Mosque

Hagia Sofya Grand Mosque

An influencer, presumably

Bosphorus Bridge

Turkish Navy Patrol

Besiktas

Uskudar

The New Mosque at Eminonu

Aya Sofya

Day 2

I made plans for the next day, I could visit the largest mosque, the Aya Sofya, and then the Topkapi Palace. I left early and walked along the wide walkway alongside the Sea of Marmara for a couple of kilometres. There were many vessels of all shapes and sizes resting in perfect calm waters. I crossed the busy Kennedy Expressway that skirts the coast to arrive at the entrance to the mosque. Even at 9:45am, the queue was a couple of hundred metres long. What I had not anticipated was an entrance fee of 2000 lire (£41) compared to 250 lire for Turkish Nationals. The mosque is the largest and most prominent in Istanbul. It started life as a church and was only converted to a mosque in 1453. It was being refurbished by the government and was a disappointment compared to other mosques that I visited. The entrance was by a switchback ramp to the upper galleries.  We were shown a few mosaics but kept moving and denied access to the inner narthex and nave. It took all of twenty-five minutes and left me feeling cheated. 

I walked along to the nearby Topkapi Palace, the entrance gardens were well kept but again the price for tourists was 2000 lire and a similar far cheaper rate for Turkish Nationals. After the experience of Aya Sofya, I decided to give it a miss although it would have been a far better option. I walked down to the waterfront at Eminonu found a bookshop serving coffee and relaxed for half an hour while deciding where to go next? A ferry to the Asian side of the Bosphorus tempted me, both Kadikoy and Moda were townships that sounded like interesting places. 

The ferry trip was a wonderful treat on a day with cobalt blue skies. Kadakoy was a busy centre with a huge shopping and restaurant quarter adjacent to the ferry terminal. I walked the narrow pedestrianised shopping streets and explored some shops before deciding to extend my walk to Moda. It was a couple of kilometres away. It was a bustling neighbourhood occupied by luxury flats overlooking the Sea of Marmara. There are famous tea gardens that overlook the sea under shaded pine trees. I stopped for a cup of tea and to read up on the area. Moda is not far from the Fenerbahce Stadium, currently managed by Jose Mourinho and I could imagine him living here but he was on his way to Glasgow for a European game against Rangers. 

I ambled back to Kadakoy and enjoyed a golden hour ferry trip back to Eminonu accompanied by dozens of seabirds who were giving spectacular aerial displays as they caught the bread being fed by the locals. I thought about spending time at the nearby New Mosque but caught the tram to Cemberlitas to visit the Grand Bazaar. It was busy and I was accosted by men in black jackets and grey stubble urging me to enter the shops. The adjacent streets were even more busy with every type of shop roughly organised by the type of goods. I had run out of curiosity and dived back down the hill to my hotel where I had an evening meal in a restaurant that had five waiters who looked like ageing bodyguards. My suspicion was probably confirmed when a large middle-aged man left the back rooms of the restaurant with an overdressed blond lady on his arm. I went back to the hotel to watch Liverpool v PSG but forgot that we were three hours ahead and it wouldn't start until 11pm. Perhaps it was just as well.

Sea of Marmara in early morning haze

Fountain of Sultan Ahmet III at entrance of Aya Sofya

Aya Sofya Nave and Dome

The tour consisted of a walk around the first-floor balconies and then out

Mosaics in Aya Sofya

Entrance to Topkapi Palace

Galata Tower

Kadikoy Flower Stall

Moda - waterfront

Moda - tea gardens

Afternoon tea break

Ferry back from Kadikoy

The New Mosque at Eminonu

The New Mosque at Eminonu

The Grand Bazaar