Hello Istanbul travelers! In this story, our timeless fairytale heroes — Alek the Seagull, Misi the Cat, and Rubi the Mouse — will share the tale of the Obelisk of Theodosius in Sultanahmet Square, each from their own unique point of view.
These three wanderers, unbound by time or place, don’t just recount historical events — they reveal the emotions carved into stone, cast in shadow, and whispered through centuries.
Alek, Misi, and Rubi are less interested in textbook facts, and more in the forgotten details we humans often overlook.
If you’re ready to see Istanbul through curious eyes and ancient memories, then there’s much waiting to be discovered.
Obelisk of Theodosius in Sultanahmet Square
The Obelisk of Theodosius was a monument brought from the Temple of Karnak in Egypt in the 4th century to adorn the Hippodrome of Constantinople.
For nearly 1,000 years, the Obelisk stood at the Hippodrome in the heart of the Byzantine Empire, witnessing mortal rivalry, rebellions, victory celebrations, and the city’s occupation by the Crusaders.
After briefly discussing the monument, the main subject of this article, we turn the floor to Alek, Misi, and Rubi, our fabled storytellers who bring Istanbul’s stones to life.
Alek – A View from Above
I glide over Istanbul, not as a tourist, but as a witness.
My name is Alek. I’m a gull, yes—but not just any gull. I fly over domes and minarets, over time itself. And there, in Sultanahmet Square, stands a needle carved from ancient memory: the Obelisk of Theodosius.
It didn’t grow from the soil of this city. No. It came from the banks of the Nile—older than empires, bearing the language of gods and pharaohs. It watched over Egypt long before Caesar dreamt of conquest.
They brought it here on ships that groaned with its weight. They raised it on marble feet, inscribed their own triumphs beneath it. And still—it stood, unmoved.
From above, it resembles a sundial of empires. A compass of change.
Today, as my shadow sweeps across its surface, the hieroglyphs seem to whisper:
“Men rise. Stones remain.”
So I fly—not to chase the wind,
But to gaze upon time standing still.
Misi – A Shadow Upon the Stone
I’m not a creature of the sky. I stay close to the ground. I move with silence, and I listen between the cracks.
They call me Misi. A cat of Istanbul, born among courtyards and couriers, where pigeons gather and secrets settle.
The Obelisk? It is not warm like the sunlit stones I nap on. It is cold, proud, and still. Yet when I curl near its base, I feel its loneliness. It misses Egypt, I think. Misses the sun it once knew. The language only birds and pharaohs understood.
Once, it was the center of a spectacle—horses raced, people roared, emperors held their breath. Now, tourists circle with cameras, their eyes half-present.
But I see more. I see how the shadow it casts stretches differently in each season, each century. I’ve seen children climb near it. Lovers kiss beneath it. Pigeons rest upon its tip, as if claiming its ancient crown.
It says nothing. But I feel it speak. Not in words, but in weight.
And so I linger,
In the hush between heartbeats,
Where time curls like a tail around stone.
Rubi – Echoes Carved in Stone
They see me as a whisper in the square. A shadow beneath the bench. A flicker near the stone. But I see everything.
I’m Rubi. I’ve lived in walls older than most countries, and dined beneath domes where emperors once whispered secrets over wine. The Obelisk? Ah, that’s not just a monument—it’s a messenger. A needle threading time.
Long ago, it pierced Egyptian skies. Then, it sailed the seas, chained in iron, bound for Byzantium. They raised it here, at the heart of the Hippodrome, not just to impress—but to remind. That power travels. That empires change hands.
I’ve heard the whispers through the marble. I know which emperor worried most before a race. I’ve felt the tremors of the horses, the cheers, the conspiracies hatched beneath silk awnings. And when the Ottomans came, I watched it all shift again—palaces rising, domes blooming, the square finding new rhythms.
Yet the Obelisk of Theodosius remained. Silent, solemn, patient.
From my little nook in a broken brick near its base, I hear it hum with memories. And I, the smallest of witnesses, carry its stories in my whiskers.
Stones don’t forget.
And neither do I.
Epilogue
The Obelisk of Theodosius stands not only as a relic of ancient Egypt, but as a storyteller. And in the voices of a seagull, a cat, and a mouse—it speaks again
Hello, I’m Serhat Engul. I’ve been a licensed tour guide in Istanbul for nearly 20 years. If the story of the Obelisk of Theodosius piques your interest, I have a suggestion for you.
Years ago, I wrote a very detailed article on the history of the Hippodrome of Constantinople on my blog, Istanbul Clues. This article covers not only the Egyptian Obelisk but also the Serpent Column (Greek) and the Walled Obelisk (Roman). You can access the relevant article via this link.