A stolen moment in Istanbul

* THE INCIDENTAL TOURIST

MY travels have brought me to a huge and beautiful mosaic at Hagia Sophia in Istanbul, the gentle eyes of a depiction of Jesus greeting me from across the aeons.

My young Turkish guide, Rashid, tells me to move a few paces to the left and watch the eyes of the mosaic. Yes, they follow me. Rashid looks satisfied at my astonishment and pleasure.

Hagia Sophia was the centre of the Byzantine Empire, the jewel of the Eastern Orthodox Church. After the fall of Constantinople, it became a place of worship for Muslims. Now it is a museum and a leading tourist attraction. The face ofthe Jesus mosaic was covered when the structure was used as a mosque but its restoration is a triumph. It really is a marvellous find.

Mosaic is the art of decoration using closely set small pieces, usually stone, mineral, glass tile or shell. It was the Byzantine artisans of the 11th and 12th centuries who realised the full possibilities of the art form, aided by a wealth of patronage. Byzantine mosaicists were also called outside the empire to practise their art, most notably at St Mark’s in Venice and in the apse of the cathedral at Cefalu in Sicily.

I understand only a few minor scenes were found at Hagia Sophia. What is even more special is that during my visit the mezzanine floor of this museum is under restoration and closed to the public. It is only my audacious questioning of this closure that has led Rashid to offer to take me upstairs, provided I do not advertise this privilege to the scores of tourists below.

We keep well back from the balcony and Rashid explains that this area was reserved for Muslim women. There is a lattice screen over the end of the balcony and I imagine that at one time it would have extended for the length of the balustrade. Rashid beckons me over and I have a splendid view of the interior on my left. He leans in to whisper I should look at the dome to my right. Of course I comply, and feel a quick kiss planted on my left cheek.

Oh no. Here I am up on the mezzanine floor at the mercy of an opportunistic young Muslim man. I cannot walk away with dignity, as there is a dark and winding stairwell to negotiate in order to return to the throngs. So I pretend nothing has happened and walk back to the mosaic, musing that the watching eyes of the mosaic may have noted the stolen kiss but, like me, given nothing away.

Rashid looks perturbed. He motions me towards the stairwell and I follow unhurriedly. I keep a few paces behind as he leads me back to the crowd. He holds the door open and I thank him as I step into the welcoming light.

I roam the open-air market stalls and mingle with the tourists, relishing the exceptional privilege I have been granted. In general, the younger men seem quite at ease and a number are happy to practise their English; however,

I note lascivious looks cast upon my bare arms by some of the older Turkish men. I smile as I recall the cheeky guide, flustered by his own action or perhaps by my surprising response to his audacity.

For the next few hours I relive a spectrum of heightened emotions, of excitement, euphoria, trepidation and gratitude. It has been a most unexpected day.

via A stolen moment in Istanbul | The Australian.