Istanbul, The Queen of Cities. The crossroads of civilization. On her golden shores empires rose to dazzling glory and collapsed in ruinous despair. Above her verdant hills minarets and crucifixes danced in turn, vying for History's fleeting favor. In the cacophony of her throbbing bazaars treasures from the edge of the world were parlayed into ferocious armies for men and magnificent monuments for the gods. Old and new, east and west, spun into the dizzying twirl of the Dervish's dance. The shimmering Bosphorus is her artery and her lifeblood. The ferries darting between Eminönü and Beyoğlu her nerves. This, Dr. Jones, this is history.
Oh, it's also the place they banned Twitter because you know, 140 characters is sure to bring down a city that's survived for a couple of millennia.
Home base for the next three days is strategically located right in the heart of the old town, between the gentle lap of the Bosphorus and the bustle of Sultanahmet's cobbled streets. That sliver of water over yonder is what real estate agents call intimate Bosphorus views.
What's this, kebabs on every corner? Guess we could have saved two hours of flying time and got off in London instead.
There's no doubt this is a nation with a serious sweet tooth. Protesting is always more fun when you're on a sugar high.
You can tell they're fresh off the plane. They're still excited by the sight of a mosque and the taste of a kebab.
Now, now kids, I think it's safe to say there will be more than enough kebabs to go around on this trip. And this blog.
On that note, it's probably safe to say there will be more than enough mosques to go around too.
The day's final call to prayer fades into the cool evening air as the last Eminönü ferry snuggles into her overnight berth. Even the seagulls cease their incessant orbit of the Galata Tower, mindful that Queen needs her beauty sleep.
Rise and shine folks, there's a couple thousand years of history to cover in 12 hours. At least there's no Twitter or Facebook to distract from the quest.
Scratch the last one, Facebook is back online. Recep Tayyip Erdoğan needs a way to like all those photos of a cleaned up Taksim Square now that the blood stains have been scrubbed out.
Nothing says the hipster-gentrifiers have arrived like a birdhouse and a vintage trinket stall. Mainly because the bird house is the only real estate anyone will be able to afford after that.
The majestic Hagia Sophia, perhaps the greatest jewel in a crown already groaning under the weight of countless treasures. In many ways a microcosm of the city, it started as a church, then sprouted some minarets and became a mosque, and finally morphed into a museum.
Christian frescoes of the twelve disciples intertwine with lavishly scripted Islamic verse. There's a message for the wider world in there somewhere if you look hard enough.
Ah, there it is: exposed-filament Edison bulbs will bring east and west together over fair-trade, micro-batch, organic lattes. It doesn't matter if you read the Bible or the Quran as long as you wear skinny jeans.
If you think writing a blog is hard, try writing in gold-plated cursive on a giant shield suspended four stories above the nave.
Since the Sophia has been re-imagined as a museum it's no longer necessary for women to cover their heads. That may be a mistake, since a few pigeons seem to have found their way into the buttresses.
A message from on high: buy our Museum Pass and skip the huge lines. Disclaimer: does not work at the pearly gates.
The first sighting of the magnificent Blue Mosque of Sultanahmet comes from a small window high on the lofty second floor of the Hagia Sophia. It turns out that certainly wouldn't be the last sighting, but more on that later.
The Hagia Sophia and Blue Mosque sit at opposite ends of a vast square, and to walk between them is to take a stroll through history. A century-a-minute is quite a fast pace, so it's lucky there are ice cream stands at regular intervals. A chocolate pistachio will go nicely with the fall of the Ottoman Empire.
Alas, on the final approach to what will surely rank as one of the great sights of the whole trip, the clarion call to prayer sounds from high on the minarets. As its echo is relayed from turret to turret, mosque to mosque, all the way out over the shimmering waters of the Bosphorus, a frenetic city pauses, breathes deeply, and reflects. Even the orbit of the gulls around Galata Towers slows for a moment.
Unfortunately that means the gates of the mosque close for all except the true believers for the next hour. Luckily, Team J00ster is used to that kind of rejection on the New York nightclub circuit, so its onwards and upwards.
The modern world inexorably encroaches on the ancient remnants of empires come and gone, but the beat of history is never far from the surface.
Forget amuse-bouche infusions and deconstructed kale salads, sometimes all you need is a big chunk of meat roasted on a rotating spit over a coal fire and sliced wafer-thin in a heaping pile of meaty goodness.
Apparently at Turkish bazaars strong negotiating skills are a must. Unfortunately Rock's acumen has atrophied away with every click of Amazon's Buy Now button. What do you mean that Genie Lamp doesn't come with free two-day shipping? Are you telling me I have to waste a precious wish just to get it to my door?
The fabled Grand Bazaar of Istanbul. It was sort of like the Walmart of its day, somewhere you could get the entire world's produce under one roof. Alas these days it's still a bit like Walmart: only Americans seem to go there, and it's filled with useless trinkets that come not from an arduous camel trek over the Silk Road but from the bowels of a China Far East Shipping Company container.
It even has LCD screens hanging from the century-old rafters, touting the latest in McSultan value meals. The only thing Grand about this bazaar is the Grande Americano you can grab at the Starbucks, located conveniently past Aladdin's Magic Carpet stall if you're interested.
If you're searching for the fragrant waft of spices from far off lands you'll need to look elsewhere. In a city bursting with history and authenticity this is one place to leave until your next trip to the Magic Kingdom.
Luckily, you don't have to look far to find the real Turkey. Head down any of the narrow side streets that form a tangled web branching out from the Grand Bazaar and you'll stumble upon leafy courtyards bursting with hookah-puffing locals, wiling away the midday heat with an apple tea and the latest tabloid headlines on Galatasaray's Champions League fate.
Recall the first attempt to visit the Blue Mosque ended abruptly as the call the prayer rang out and its doors closed to all but the devout. But that was hours ago, so it's surely a good time to walk all the way back in the blazing heat for another try?
Mei puts on a brave face, because it kind of looks like the only other people heading toward the mosque are locals. Why do all those who clutch Lonely Planets walk the other way?
With typical J00ster timing, the call to prayer is ringing out again. No way, it's only five times per day, what are the odds of hitting it twice? Actually they're considerably higher when Rock fails to note down the prominently-displayed prayer times board the first time around. Take three will have to wait for another day. Rock's dressing down will not.
Luckily, there's plenty to keep one occupied above - and below - ground. The Yerebatan Sarayı, or Sunken Cistern, dates back to Byzantine times when it was a water storage facility for what was then Constantinople. Remarkably, it still lurks completely intact beneath the traffic-clogged roads, tram lines, and hubbub above.
Back then, civil water works were a bit more exciting than digging a trench for a couple of concrete sewage pipes. These days you don't get an inverted Medusa's head with your tap water.
With the sun sinking lower over the fabled Istanbul skyline it can mean only one thing. Time for a sunset cruise on the Bosphorus. Mermaids watch out, The Amigos are on the water.
This is why Istanbul can take her place among the world's greatest cities. Younger upstarts tout their lofty glass towers and their glitzy waterfronts, but the Queen looks haughtily down on them all, just as she has for centuries.
Gold like this doesn't come on camel caravans or laden on ships up the Bosphorus.
That sounds like the next call to prayer. Quick, let's head to the Blue Mosque.
The latest list of the World's 50 Best Restaurants has just been released. They missed one. The floating grilled fish stalls of Eminönü are manned by fishermen who spend their days out on the Bosphorus catching the day's menu and their evenings grilling them up and slapping them between slices of freshly baked bread piled high with fresh onions and spices. It doesn't get any better than that, even if they don't iron your table cloth between courses.
That's a wrap on day one, although technically its day two since the Queen's conservative reputation is really a bit of a front and there's more than a few all-nighters hidden beneath her headscarf.
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