The Istanbul Archeology Museum is the kind of place that lends itself to the opening set piece of an Indiana Jones flick. Its vast and somewhat nondescript halls are permeated with the slightly musty smell of archival paper, a throwback to an age when a curator was someone who arranges exhibits, not the proprietor of a bespoke gentleman's hat boutique in Greenpoint. Crack the whip and bust down the wall Dr. Jones, this place could use a little fresh air.
What ungodly horror lies slumbering in that sarcophagus? Whatever it is, the Nazis are probably after it. Raiders theme will echo nicely in these deserted halls.
Enough of the dusty museum, let's move on to something a little more, shall we say, enticing. The Topkapi Palace has a lot to offer but let's face it, everyone is here to check out the Imperial Harem. Back in Ottoman days there was no Tinder for the sultan to use to dial up a little action, so he had to keep a whole court of concubines on tap. Sounds expensive.
You might think the bars are to keep the dudes out, but they're quite unnecessary. Any guy who thinks he wants more than one wife isn't thinking straight. Just installing the required closet space will bankrupt half the empire, and that's before they get started on the shoe collection.
This must be the room where the magic happens. Or not. What are the odds of thirty simultaneous headaches? Higher than statistics might suggest for some reason, go figure.
Moving on to less salacious parts of the palace, the sultan's courtyard has all the latest features necessary to lock in the center spread in Better Mosques and Gardens.
As the last echo of the call to prayer floats out over the Bosphorus, the window of opportunity for another attempt on the elusive Blue Mosque is opening.
If we don't make it this time, it's probably time to convert otherwise we're never getting in. The line for non-believes must be intentionally designed to make them see the error of their ways.
Unlike the queue for cronuts, this is a line worth standing in. The intricate detailing on a single tile plucked from the towering dome could put entire museums to shame. Yes Manawatu Art Gallery, we're looking at you.
Bazaars remain the one negative in an otherwise spectacular country. Call Team J00ster a bit naïve, but visions of mysterious camel trains winding their way across the arid steppes to the east are constantly being dashed against a pile of tacky, Made in China trinkets. Yes they're from the east, but that's about the extent of it.
Apparently people had a lot of time on their hands way back when. How else do you explain this vast mosaic that features the beasts of mythology and the saints of Christendom, intricately rendered in tiny 1cm by 1cm tiles.
Then again, people have a lot of times on their hands today too. You are reading this blog after all. And it took a team of archeologists 20 years to lovingly restore the mosaic, one painstaking tile at a time. It seems all that whip cracking and Nazi busting is false advertising; real archeologists wield a tube of superglue.
You never know what's lurking down the next cobbled street in the old town. Like one of those pesky Mongols from out Hubei way.
The imposing exterior of the evocatively named Spice Bazaar is just another false front for a glorified shopping mall.
At least it still sells a few of its namesake spices among the plastic genie lamps and magic carpets whose only hope of flight lies in a tourist's carry on.
Since you can get better spices at a sketchy New York bodega at 2am, it's time to set forth in search of a slice of history without the shrink-wrapping. Oh look, it's another mosque. Next please.
And another mosque. Next please.
Hang on folks, keep those browsers open. ESPN's breathless coverage of the 252nd pick in the NFL draft can wait. This isn't just another mosque, this is the magnificent Süleymaniye Mosque, among the finest structures ever raised by man.
Until someone invents a time-machine and the fabled architect Mimar Sinan is able pen a guest column on the J00ster Journal, this will be remembered as the pinnacle of his illustrious achievements.
Like Istanbul herself, the Süleymaniye layers Byzantine on Islamic and Islamic on Byazantine. Rock, always one to learn from the best, applies the same techniques to beef and lamb when ordering kebabs.
Exposed filament bulbs? Is there no escape from the scourge of the hipster?
You never know what you'll stumble across in a city as ancient as Istanbul. Like a tea garden almost completely hidden is a nook at the base of the mosque's imposing outer walls. Thirsty work calling out those prayers five times a day.
The Western media may delight in beaming grainy iPhone videos of tear gas and terror in Taksim Square, but the reality is a peace-loving city where churches and mosques coexist as easily as hummus and pita.
The most magnificent sight of all: an ice cold Coca-Cola. Nothing brings the world together like high fructose corn syrup and caffeine.
Remarkably, long sections of the old city walls still snake their way though the sprawling suburbs. Even more remarkable, there's nothing stopping one from clamoring up the ruins for epic views of the skyline.
The sultan has spoken: who's up for another round of grilled fish? Too much of a good thing is a very good thing.
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