Eyup District – Islamic Sacred Site of Istanbul

Eyup Mosque, Tomb of Eyup El Ensari & Pierre Loti Hill

Gwendolyn (*) disappeared going up the steps through the gate behind her seen in the photo to explore the women’s section of this truly impresive Eyup mosque; among top sacred religious sites of Islam in Istanbul, also sacred site for all of the Moslems of the world ; next to the tomb of Eyup El Ensari ( Halid Bin Velid ) the flag holder of prophet Mohammed who passed away during the early Moslem’s siege of Constantinople. …and she disappeared for a little less then hald an hour. Since most visitors go in and out onr whole mosque in 5 -10 minutes, ı was beginning to wonder what was going on; and there she came back; with some experiences : The women reading Koran , praying and chanting offer her a seat ( that is usually you sit on your knees ) on the carpeted floor; and she enjoyed their company including exchanging of smiles; reading of comforting Koran. An experience she was not expecting she was touched by the warm welcome , the good company and a close up authentic Islamic prayer experience.

This just followed the Islamic sacred Friday noon prayer. Gwendolyn agreed in changing the schedule just slightly to stay for a lunch in that area for the prayer to be finixhed, and then her patience in return was awarded.
I believe Gwendolyn had some unique times because of her enthusiasm , openness and pozitiveness in all circumstancess.

We later took a wonderful cable-car ride up the Pierre Loti hill to sip our tea while enjoying a great Istanbul scenery. The tea came from a tea set boiling above a charcoal heater, with some imagination one could get the charcoal smoked flavour, or no imagination? )) Well, this is definately a treat, do not miss it!
( do this tour during the week or early on a weekend or there will be a cue for the 2 cable cars for 6 – 8 passengers on each.
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* Gwendolyn and her husband, a top professor whose prophesies of economy could shake the world a bit
( he could only join us on few occasions as he was invited as a speaker to a world economy forum in Istanbul ) were on a 4 day private tour of Istanbul with me , me as their private tour guide and host in Istanbul.

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notes :
A large size of this photo is at : http://www.flickr.com/photos/23822697@N02/3997077516/sizes/o/

My blog has got more of my Istanbul comments and introductions :
https://mristanblue.wordpress.com/
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Great trips and Experiences to everyone in 2010 from Istanbul, 2010 European Capital of Culture

Oguz Kosebalaban
professional tour guide, Istanbul addict

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poetry supplement :
….Eyüp is an orphan, Kadiköy is dressed up, Moda is haughty ….

( by NECİP FAZIL KISAKÜREK-1905-1983 )

MY DEAR ISTANBUL

They have melted my soul and frozen it in a mould;
They have named it Istanbul, and put it on earth.
There’s something smoking inside me; air, colour, grace, and climate;
That’s my beloved who came from beyond time and place.
Its flowers are golden stars, its water is sweet;
The moon and the sun have always been Istanbullian.
The sea and the earth have reached their union in her
And the dreams have turned to reality in her.
Istanbul is my life;
my motherland…
Istanbul,
Istanbul…
History has eyes, the riddles on ancient walls;
Cypresses, cypresses are of fine stature, they’re the curtains
Of two worlds…
A steed rears up on the clouds;
Diamond domes, perhaps there are billions of steeds…
The minarets are index fingers pointing to the sky.
In every embroidery a meaning: we must die.
Death is more alive than life mercy is greater than sin;
When Beyoğlu is drowing in worldly pleasures,
Karcaahmet weeps…
Seek the meaning, find it!
Find it in Istanbul!
Istanbul,
Istanbul…
The Bosphorus, the silver brazier of the Bosphorus, boils the coolness;
The depths of heaven on earth are in Çamlıca.
Playful waters are the guests in the basement of the sea-side house;
A photo of the sad face of a former diplomat hangs on the wall.
Every evening flames on the windows in Üsküdar,
A haunded house, big as the city…
A song from the Ud or the Tanbour?
It sings “Katibim” behind the bay-windows…
Its women are like sharp knives,
Warm like fresh blood,
Istanbul,
Istanbul…
Time on the seven hills embroiders
Seven colours, seven voices, endless manifestation…!
Eyüp is an orphan, Kadiköy is dressed up, Moda is haughty,
Wind in the Island plays tricks with the girls.
Each dawn, the arrows fly from their bows.
Cries come from Topkapi Palace still.
The mothers are the best of sweethearts, Istanbul is the best of places;
Never mind the cheerful crowd, those who cry are happier.
Its night smells hyacinth,
Its Turkish the nightingale’s voice.
Istanbul,
Istanbul…

Canım İstanbul
Ruhumu eritip de kalıpta dondurmuşlar;
Onu İstanbul diye toprağa kondurmuşlar.
İçimde tüten birşey; hava, renk, eda, iklim;
O benim, zaman, mekan aşıp geçmiş sevgilim.
Çiçeği altın yaldız, suyu telli pulludur;
Ay ve güneş ezelden iki İstanbulludur.
Denizle toprak, yalnız onda ermiş visale,
Ve kavuşmuş rüyalar, onda, onda misale.
İstanbul benim canım;
Vatanım da vatanım…
İstanbul,
İstanbul…
Tarihin gözleri var, surlarda delik delik;
Servi, endamlı servi, ahirete perdelik…
Bulutta şaha kalkmış Fatih`ten kalma kır at;
Pırlantadan kubbeler, belki bir milyar kırat…
Şahadet parmağıdır göğe doğru minare;
Her nakışta o mana: Öleceğiz ne çare?..
Hayattan canlı ölüm, günahtan baskın rahmet;
Beyoğlu tepinirken ağlar Karacaahmet…
O manayı bul da bul!
İlle İstanbul`da bul!
İstanbul,
İstanbul…
Boğaz gümüş bir mangal, kaynatır serinliği;
Çamlıca`da, yerdedir göklerin derinliği.
Oynak sular yalının alt katına misafir;
Yeni dünyadan mahzun, resimde eski sefir.
Her akşam camlarında yangın çıkan Üsküdar,
Perili ahşap konak, koca bir şehir kadar…
Bir ses, bilemem tanbur gibi mi, ud gibi mi?
Cumbalı odalarda inletir “Katibim”i…
Kadını keskin bıçak,
Taze kan gibi sıcak.
İstanbul,
İstanbul…
Yedi tepe üstünde zaman bir gergef işler!
Yedi renk, yedi sesten sayısız belirişler…
Eyüp öksüz, Kadıkoy süslü, Moda kurumlu,
Adada rüzgar, uçan eteklerden sorumlu.
Her şafak Hisarlarda oklar çıkar yayından
Hala çığlıklar gelir Topkapı sarayından.
Ana gibi yar olmaz, İstanbul gibi diyar;
Güleni şoyle dursun, ağlayanı bahtiyar…
Gecesi sünbül kokan
Türkçesi bülbül kokan,
İstanbul,
İstanbul…

Necip Fazıl Kısakürek