Istanbul - Looking for Chora

When I'm travelling, about 50% of the time I have no idea what I'm doing. I 'wing it,' a lot. Which is not a bad thing; sometimes it takes a very long time to get where I'm going, sometimes I never get there at all. I am not an efficient traveller. Winging it often results in lovely conversations with lovely, helpful people, and sometimes wandering into areas that most tourists don't (and probably shouldn't) wander into.

I decided that I wanted to find Chora Church, the home of some incredible 14th century mosaics. On Thursday morning, I set off for Taksim Square, where the guidebook told me to look for bus #87, which would take me right there. Uh-huh. I couldn't find bus #87. I did find a tourist information office. The woman in the office told me to go underground to find the bus. Uh-huh. I went underground, and saw signs for trains, but no buses. I asked a phone vendor if he knew how I could get to Chora Church. He looked at me blankly and shook his head. I took a few steps away to consult my guidebook again. The lovely phone vendor called me back. He had googled (or something) the church, and had directions for me. I was to take the subway to a certain station, then board a bus. He helpfully wrote down the names of the train station, and the name of the bus. Off I went, tightly clutching the scrap of paper with the directions.

When I arrived at the designated metro stop, I rode the escalator up. I waved the directions in the face of a subway official. He told me to go 'down,' and 'up.' Uh-huh. So I went back down, walked along the platform, and took another escalator up. And arrived at a bus platform. One problem - the buses going in both direction had the same name on them. I climbed onto one bus, and waved the piece of paper under the driver's nose. He gestured to the other side of the platform. So I wandered over. A bus came roaring in, stopped for a nanosecond to disgorge passengers, then roared off. I walked to the very end of the platform, and leaped on the next bus that came flying in. I waved the piece of paper under this driver's nose, but he waved me away. A lovely passenger looked at the paper, and told me which stop I needed. She kept an eye on me for the entire journey, and told me when to disembark.

When I got off the bus, I approached two policement, and said "Excuse me, Chora Church," in very bad Turkish (Prastiti, Kariye Muzesi). They told (gestured) me to climb up the stairs, and cross the bridge. When I got to the top of the stairs, I realized I was crossing a bridge over a highway. When I got to the end of the bridge, I was in a cemetery. I sat down, ate a plum, and hoped that I really heading towards Chora Church. I wandered through the cemetery, out to another very busy road. I approached some people at a bus stop and said the name of the church in Turkish again. I was given very complicated instructions, in rapid-fire Turkish, of which I understood the direction the hands were pointing in. I thanked them and set off again. A bit later, I approached another man, and asked for Kariye Muzesi. He grabbed another man, who spoke English. I was getting much closer to the church. Now I just had to cross a road, walk a few blocks, turn right, walk a bit, then turn left. And it worked! I found myself at Chora Church!

Chora Church dates from 1100. The beautiful mosaics were commissioned by Theodore Metochites, the Byzantine prime minister. They tell the stories of Mary, Joseph, and Jesus. The name 'Chora' has many connotations.  The Greek word 'Chora' means 'territory' or 'land,' which is thought to reflect the fact that the church was built just outside the city walls. But in Byzantine religious literature, Mary is often referred to as 'Chora,' in the sense of an uncultivated field. Later, this word stretched to mean 'containing the uncontainable,' i.e. Jesus.

The tiles used for the pots were actually made of terracotta.

Theodore Metochites