The Basilica Cistern, otherwise known as the Yerebatan Sarnıcı or Sunken Cistern - was number one on my list of tourist sights. I like the idea of cisterns, mostly because I recall playing Tomb Raider and swimming through underwater tunnels and climbing over pillars and jumping into bright clear water lit by crumbing overhead domes.
It wasn't quite like that, believe it or not. The entrance was an unimpressive block with a ticket window and staircase inside. It's an underwater reservoir though, so I don't know what I was expecting. It was built and fed by aqueducts more than 1500 years ago to keep fresh water against any possible siege of the city.
James Bond rowed through the place in From Russia With Love, before there were walkways built through it. I was a little let down with the crowds of people chattering among the dimly lit marble columns perspiring with water that dripped from the brick ceilings. And with the trade show style tables set up at the base of the stairs to advertise other tourist destinations. And with the lovely photos placed here and there among the walkways. I mean, sure they were great water-themed photos of some beautiful place in Turkey with blue skies and bright sun and sunken ruins, but when did an ancient cistern become an art gallery? The final touch of tack was the "Cistern Cafe" at the end of the walkway, signed in diner-esque neon.
But I liked it! Sure, the water was only a foot deep or so, ruining my fantasies of swimming through underwater passageways, but it was still calming and peaceful despite the chatter. They could've chose some classier lighting than orange and red tungsten, but the hundreds of columns in precise rows created a feeling of depth and distance beyond the actual size of the place, which is pretty big anyway.
Where there was enough light, you could watch ripples spread out in perfect circles as the ceilings dripped perspiration, and lazy fish floated here and there. There are mysterious blocks with Medusa's head carved into them at the base of two columns, and I was hit with fat drops of water a couple times, forcing me to clean off my glasses and camera with my t-shirt.
Something else that was particularly impressive was that when I exited up a different set of stairs, I realized I was halfway down the block, and all the buildings and roads and traffic are driving on top of the cistern. I would've liked to have seen the place with less people, and I even went on a Monday, but who am I to complain? I'm a bloody tourist too.
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