Looking back, I can see why the blog got so far behind in being written and posted – we are always eating, sleeping or out and about. Istanbul was a killer for this, and so I already know, because I have written this page well after the events, that we eventually needed a day of catch up, planning and rest. Hence the writing of this day, from our room in Bursa.
After breakfast and farewells to our friends at the hotel, we carried our big packs back to the Topkapı Palace first courtyard. There, Keith was content to sort through photos on the computer in the shade of a tree. I had to have my last visit to the Topkapı, being sure that the miniatures, portraits and sacred items that we had missed on our previous visit would be the defining ones for me. I raced off, clutching my 10 lira and toilet money, promising to ‘maybe’ be back in an hour. I think that Keith was very patient, noble and loving to let me do this while he missed out.
I must have looked like the tourists that I despise – ‘doing’ a site rather than experiencing it, as I impatiently waited to enter behind a school group and then power walked as if I was wearing blinkers, past the dressed up Imperial guards and ornamental gates, past the tourists studying their guide books and straight to the toilet queue. I didn’t need to go, but I had thought it was where the portraits were, and it seemed that people were waiting in line to get in, the portraits being so good. Seeing the WC sign at the last minute, I astounded the jigglers by sheering off across the grass as if I couldn’t wait at all.
Racing into the actual portraits gallery, I was disappointed to see that they were mostly the same ones we had seen at the Military Museum, which probably had the copies. There were two sets of portraits, done in batches, with one showing the achievements of the Sultan in a painted scene below the portrait. I was disappointed to see that Suleyman 1 had an enormous battle scene under his – they could have included some scales to represent the just and inclusive laws that I admire him for; also that his son, Selim, who was a drunken fool who drowned in the bath, had a lovely peaceful scene of a hill and a couple of sailing boats on a bay. Maybe it was all symbolic – the bay being the bath, the hill the size of his achievements and the boats, the importation of liquor. The portrait of Murat IV, who went mad, showed him wearing a very different outfit and an exotic head dress, making him stand out in the rank of sultans. I wondered if the portrait painter had had the knowledge of hindsight and had used painter’s licence, or if Murat regularly wore such clothes. There was a great sequence of Selim III as boy and man and a sweet one of Mehmet IV, who was a boy Sultan and looked about 14. Poor Sultan Vahdeddin looked less than imperial in his modern suit and glasses, a far cry from the glory of his ancestors. There were some small scenes and a set of miniature portraits that had been painted on ivory – tiny and perfect but, to my great disappointment, the attendant assured me that these were the only miniatures at Topkapı. I had anticipated revelling in a room full of oriental style miniatures, like the ones in the bazaar, where detailed figures stroll in gardens with a golden tower and birds flying by – all about 6cm square. These must be somewhere but, having borrowed time from our trip to Bursa, I could never find out.
A little of my hour up my sleeve, I took a second bite of the sacred items. This time I slowed down, read and appreciated more. Mohammad’s front tooth had been knocked out in a fight, but the one here was his other one. Moses’ rod was wavy, with a handy right angled part for holding. The golden guttering was decorated and had inscriptions on it. The Surre had included bags of coins given to the residents of Medina and Mecca to enable them to assist pilgrims and to ensure their continued support. Every aspect of the Surre was carried in the most beautifully and symbolically decorated bags and even the camel wore a jewelled and significant head dress. On Mohammad’s last visit to Mecca he cut off his hair and beard and cut up his cloak, distributing them to people. An imam was intoning verses of the Koran and you could read along in an English translation, which I did for a while. Although in some ways a quaint display of oddities, the sincerity and emotion with which these items have been regarded and guarded over such a long time, speaks of their importance to the people. I was glad that I had gone back, and particularly to take the time to people watch in the sacred section, seeing every reaction, and often humour, at the beginning and a gentler, more respectful one at the end, in the people around me.
We walked the one kilometre to the dock and our ferry was just pulling in as we slipped through the gates. We watched the sites of our last week receding as we approached the Asian shore; the part of Istanbul we had never even crossed to explore. I felt that we were both crazy and sane – crazy to leave and sensible to see what else lay before us – but overwhelmingly we were tired and ready to snooze on the bus.
The bus trip took us through tightly packed suburbs and out at last into the countryside. It was a surprise to see the Sea of Marmaris looming in front of us, since we had imagined that taking the bus meant driving around, but our bus was soon driving onto a ferry. Half an hour later, back on land, we continued to Bursa, where we arrived at the Otogar, three hours from Istanbul, and took a local bus into the city centre. A man assisted us with where to get off, using French, and then another took us under his wing and walked us quite a long way to the tourist office. An enormous square, overshadowed by ancient plane trees, was surrounded by mosques, the covered bazaar, cafes, seats and a fountain. Busy Atatürk street streamed above, but at this sunken level, the atmosphere was calm, with locals everywhere taking advantage of the spot. Two men at the tourist office were very helpful, with one bringing tears to my eyes when he spoke of his visits to Gallipoli and his family losses there. We went to the area of cheap hotels that they suggested, took a room for 30 lira, 15 lira less than the cheapest one on the Internet, and then went to explore.
It seems that Bursa has retained the sense of being a series of little joined communities in the central area, with our hotel having its own surrounding village-style shops and friendly community. We decided to visit the mosques and have an early night.
The Ulu Camii (great mosque), was decorated with painted scrolls and simple patterns but was fairly plain, except that it had masses of religious calligraphy all over the walls, which has been done by famous calligraphy artists. It was enormous and was the first mosque I had been in that seemed to be acting like a community centre inside. Usually people are meeting and chatting in the courtyard outside, but here there was a men’s group gathering, some ladies preparing what looked like a roster and a German tour leader giving a loud talk to his flock.
The Orhan Gazi mosque was much smaller and was the first to be built in T shape. It was unusual to us, having a fountain inside the church and a raised area at the front and sides. Our last mosque of the day was the Green Mosque, in our experience the only Bursa item whose fame has spread to Istanbul. It was built by Mehmet I between 1419 and 1424. It has deep emerald green square tiles on many of its interior walls, as well as an interior fountain and the raised front and side areas on a T shape.The main street of Bursa is very busy so, to help pedestrians, there is a series of underpasses. As you pass under the street you find lots of small shops. There are even elevator devices for people in wheelchairs to use the subways.
We stopped to eat our picnic tea in the square, looking down the steps to where Atatürk rides eternally on his sculptured steed. A group of young men were practising their break dancing and many were highly skilled. It was like being at a concert. 
Suddenly the tea man appeared before us with two cups of tea that we declined. A young man nearby came over and said that he had ordered them for us, because we were eating and it would have been nice for us to have a drink too. We had only exchanged a brief smile before this. We were impressed by his generosity and hospitality. He asked for nothing, not even conversation, so acted as the perfect antidote to our Istanbul shoe shine man. It was a lovely ending to our afternoon and evening in Bursa; a town that we feel in our bones is one we will like. 
The main industries in Bursa have been silk and motor vehicle production. which are represented in this revolving sculpture, along with other aspects of Bursa.
This woman is one of quite a few on Bursa city streets. There is a perverse logic in the sad fact that the more affluent a city, the more common are the beggars.
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