Istanbul Mosques & Bazaars Private Tour: Suleymaniye, Grand Bazaar

4.92

(66 reviews)

What’s the experience like?

It all started for us at Çemberlitaş, right by the old Column of Constantine. The square buzzed with early morning chatter—locals rushing past, the distant clang of tram bells. Our guide, Cem, pointed out the grooves in the marble—he said some believe you can still see the marks left by centuries of hands. The air smelled faintly of roasted chestnuts from a nearby cart. It felt like stepping into a living museum.

Next up was the Nuruosmaniye Mosque. I’d never seen Ottoman and European styles blend like that—arches with delicate flourishes, sunlight catching on the pale stone. Cem explained how this mosque was the first in Istanbul to really show off European influence. The prayer hall was quiet except for the soft shuffle of slippers on carpet. We lingered a bit, just soaking in the calm before heading into the chaos of the Grand Bazaar.

The Grand Bazaar is wild—lanes twisting everywhere, shopkeepers calling out in Turkish and sometimes Spanish when they spotted us with Cem. We tried our hand at haggling for a small copper bowl (I think we overpaid, but it was fun). Cem showed us a shortcut to a tea stand tucked behind a jewelry stall—apple tea in tiny glasses, sweet and hot. If you’re into people-watching, this place is gold.

Süleymaniye Mosque sits up on the hill, and the walk there is worth it for the view alone. You can see the Bosphorus shimmering in the distance. Inside, it’s airy and peaceful—huge domes overhead, sunlight streaming through stained glass. Cem told us stories about Suleyman the Magnificent and his architect Sinan. The mausoleums outside are quieter than you’d expect; we saw a few locals leaving flowers.

We wandered through a neighborhood where hardly any tourists go—shops selling hand-embroidered towels and copper coffee pots. Cem knew which places had fair prices and which to skip. One shopkeeper offered us a taste of candied chestnuts—sticky and sweet, not something I’d have picked out myself.

The Spice Bazaar was smaller but packed with color and smells—dried rose petals, saffron, mounds of Turkish delight. I picked up some sumac after Cem explained how locals use it on salads. A cat dozed under one of the stalls, totally unfazed by the crowds.

Our last stop was Galata Bridge. Fishermen lined the railings, chatting and smoking as ferries slid by underneath. Cem gave us tips on where to grab a drink nearby or keep exploring if we wanted more history. By then, my feet were tired but I didn’t really want to leave.