The Blue Mosque was built with six minarets, and that alone alarmed Istanbul: only the Grand Mosque of Mecca had as many, and no building was supposed to rival it. Sultan Ahmed I was barely nineteen when he ordered it, and with no great conquest to pay the way he drew on the imperial treasury itself, breaking with custom. Completed in 1616 by Sedefkâr Mehmed Ağa, a pupil of the master architect Sinan, it was set deliberately across a garden from Hagia Sophia, the huge Byzantine church it was meant to match.
The English name comes from within. More than twenty thousand İznik tiles — tulips, carnations and cypresses in cobalt and sea-green — climb the lower walls, and some 260 windows, once glazed with coloured Venetian glass, spill light across them until the room seems to glow. Step inside and the domes rise in tiers, one lifting the eye to the next until a painted crown floats far overhead. It is still a working mosque: five times a day the carpets fill with people at prayer, and visitors cross barefoot between, shoes in hand, beneath the same vast ceiling.