Istancool- Turkey

Posted on 23/11/2012 | Leave a comment



My desire to travel is chronic.

That is the only explanation for finding myself and my Amber, travel companion once again numb- assed on a plane, descending into another new city. I am ecstatic, while motion sick.
$20.00 USD for a 90 day visa, followed by the satisfying and official sound of anew stamp being added to my passport:  Ker-Thrunk! I clear customs once more…
Just through the doors staring teeming masses of drivers holding name signs. Amber and I have to circle the line of callers three times before we finally see a “Fiher-Lov”. Assuming that is that me, we hop in the car and get a taste of the many ziggingand zagging taxi rides to come. Turkey, where speed limits and road lines are barely even suggestions.
Our hostel is situated in the heart of the touristic area, in an county called Faith (the irony of this is not lost on me). On our right is the Blue Mosque and the left the Hagia Sofia. It would not do to simply march straight into these epic sights however. First we must explore the lay of the land  and acclimate to the city. We wander up and down the cobbled alleys. From inside my bubble umbrella impressionistic images of twinkling Turkish lamps composed of thousands hand placed glass shards whirl over piles of rugs, scarves, soaps, pipes and blue-eyes.
Amber commences to haggle over a intricately embroidered silk rug while I stare at cushion covers, scarves and earrings. The vibrancy of these colors is not like that I have seen before. Here deeper shades of mahogany, mauve and magenta speak of depth, and wealth. 
 
To my eyes the colors match the warm culture, the people we meet are sincere, sharing their own traveling stories and flirting appropriately. When asked where we are from I left Amber speak first.  She tells them she is from Hawaii. People smile and wink knowingly instantly off their guard, for who does not love Hawaii? I stay quiet unless forced to answer too…
By the time I am done wandering Amber is being served apple tea by the shop keeper, a sign the that haggling is really commencing. I sip my tea and grin unhelpfully as she banters and apologizes to him for not being able to afford more. In the end she gets a good deal, and he does alright, if not as well as he had hoped. 
 

The first night we saw a Whirling Dervish perform. Most likely apart of the Mevlevi Order he only performed part of the Sama ceremony. The actual Mevlevi Order has been outlawed since 1925, but is allowed to perform in public for touristic reasons today.


I was entranced the delicate balance of the dance. Walking onto the stage the Dervish was silent. With eyes closed he began to spin his clothing billowing out as the musicians played behind him. Pivoting on the left foot he spins faster as he goes leaving behind his ego in as he embraces truth and love toward the “perfect” or god. They  Dervishes always wear white to symbolize death the the tall hat represents the gravestone. I later learned that the 20th great-grandson of the Order’s founder still leads the order today. Less political than their original founders all of the performers within the city still practice the religion underground to this day.
Our exploration of Istanbul happened two trips and really we explored two separate cities. 
First we explored the old city: The Hagia Sofia, the Topiaki Palace, and the royal Haram. We tip-toed around the top of the Galata Tower marched along the city walls (in search of a taxi) and high-tales it to Chora Church. The Byzantine artwork, the Kufic Scripted paintings and Islamic floral motifs declared incessant attention to detail the juxtaposition of blue against garish gold and chipping mosaics. I alternated between drooling and almost breaking my teeth on Turkish Delight and Kebab’s where the pot is shatterd before you eat.

 

On the return trip we visited modern Istanbul: The Istanbul Modern (during the Istanbul Biennial), the PTT (post office, The Grand Bazar and a public use Turkish Bath. Here the streets are not as well lit, but the fast-food includes fresh veg and tea (FYI- Only tourists drink Turkish coffee in the morning. It is meant as an afternoon drink of ceremony). Fresh squeezed pomegranate juice is but one Turkish Lyra compared to five and toast supplants roasted chestnut vendors. Across the Bosporus Straight shops close at prayer time no matter how busy. 


 
 
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