Turkish Delights

Goodbyes, well goodbyes are dreadful. There’s no seamless method of saying goodbye because let’s face it, goodbyes aren’t ordained to be easy or comfortable. It is those goodbyes that make you feel like you’ve been left in the cold with no way of getting back in. Bidding farewell to your home of just four months is much harder than you think.

My time in Turkey far exceeded my expectations. Lord knows that all I have seen, learned, and the ways in which I’ve grown are unquantifiable. For me, Istanbul is nothing less than a gem. The Turks gave me more than I gave them, and Turkey changed me more than I probably changed it; and for that, my gratitude remains unspoken. I am going home with a pocket full of wisdom, infinitely more strength, better intuition, and timeless tales of my adventures.

For now I’m back to America with new feats (not nearly as exciting) to conquer. But here are EIGHT notable lessons I’ve learned and relearned over the course of my time abroad that I’d like to share with you:

1.  The best things in life are free. For everything else there’s a carb or a traveller’s check.

2.   Deferring your happiness to the future is an awful idea. If you wait around for the right time and right place you won’t do much of anything. Risk is a fundamental building block for perspective and beats the hell out of not trying. Reading about and watching the world passively is no way to learn. We need to live in it. Nothing with substance is ever black or white. So go slow and enjoy the ride.

3. Humility will let you climb mountains. You’ll have to swallow your pride even if you feel like you’re choking. When you’re travelling remember you’re a guest. There will be times when the native’s philosophies and mentalities will be so far from aligned with your own. That’s okay, lean with it. Learn the art of empathy.

4. Patience is virtue. I’m firm on this. Good things inevitably come to those who wait.

5. Love all, trust few. Friend acquisition is vital during study abroad. Thankfully, I was blessed with the greatest, most sincere friends I could ask for. Be good to people, be so good that nobody could possibly say anything bad about you. Most people deserve the benefit of the doubt, but second chances should be sealed in a chamber and should be by invitation only.

6. You will find yourself in situations stranger than fiction. Anticipate the unexpected. Hey, it’s another story to tell.

7. There’s no shame in not knowing or taking the backseat every now and then. Nobody has it all figured out even though we all put on a brave face and live in the pretense that we do. Every bad has a worse and every good has a better.

8. We all essentially want the same things when we look past the trivial things that separate us. People are never alone in being alone. That’s something we all have in common. A good time, a good deal, love, health, happy homes, and success. The only thing that really differs is our pursuit.

Thank you all, family, friends, and strangers, for your readership and encouragement to write. I am indebted to you. The following is my very LAST post on Turkey, which I’m writing with an unbearably heavy heart. Enjoy!

Things winded up last Wednesday. It all seems so hazy in my head, mostly because I can’t believe it’s over.  That day had a completely different air, and everything, I mean everything I had witnessed in 4 months suddenly became summed up and magnified.

The morning of the 3^rd started off with several breakfast and coffee meetings with the closest and dearest. One experience that was the most moving among the others was at Aperatif, my favorite breakfast café. I’ve only ever ordered one dish from here and that’s menemen, a delicious variation of scrambled eggs with French bread on the side. Being a family-owned and operated place, you can imagine the kind of warm and lively ambiance this place has. The oldest son is the manager, and his friend is a waiter there, both of which are much older and have always been great company during breakfast.

Seeing as the sun was brighter and friendlier than usual that day, I chose to sit outside just to watch some last minute, early bird street chaos. The waiter came outside, greeted me with a handshake, “Ah ah, Günaydın! Hoşgeldiniz! Nasılsın?” I responded with a big frown and told him today was my last day, and that I was flying out that night. His eyes got really big and he gestured, “hold on a second” with his hand, ran back outside with 2 çays in hand. The manager followed him out. He proceeded to sit down and in his progressive English he attempted to rationalize how students come and go. He said each semester brings in a new bunch of foreign students; the locals befriend them, laugh with them, and become a part of their experience. A couple months later they leave and chances are their paths won’t meet again. He shrugged his shoulders, flashed a hopeful smile and said something along the lines of: “This is life.” He then made us promise we would come back for a meal if we’re ever in Istanbul again. Inshallah. 

Our encounters with the people at Aperatif exhibited an unparalleled level of hospitality and kindness. You could see the women and men of their family preparing food behind the counter, and there were always positive energies. In fact, there were countless mornings I came here with friends right before Turkish class on Monday, frustrated by my verb conjugations. They’d bring us our plates, and as they walked away they’d look over our shoulders, saw our unpromising, pitiful worksheets and extended an offer to help. People like them have made an everlasting impression on me.

Later that day, my best friends and I took a quick trip down to Bebek, strolled along the Bosphorous taking goofy pictures, admiring the views, the bridge, and all there was in the distance like Asia. Later that night we decided on ONE final hurrah before my flight. I wasted no time, quickly stuffed the contents of my tiny room in my suitcase and was ready to see how my last night in Istanbul was destined to unwind. I can’t say I was disappointed in the least. The night felt like a journey back into time full of the most honest laughs and lively reminisces. We relived our entire study abroad, wrapped it up and put a bow on it.

When my roommates, friends and I headed home they helped me pack up some final things. As in, I sat on the suitcase and they zipped it up. It was busting at the seams but there was little I could do at that point. We headed downstairs to the reception of our dorm where the receptionist who had never said two words to me, smiled and asked in broken English, “ So, you are leaving? Shall I call taxi?” He did so and wished me a safe flight. We all said our goodbyes, all of which were exchanged with bittersweet smiles and reminders that we’d see eachother sooner than later, so this wasn’t goodbye. “See you laters” seemed more fitting. And then I was on my way.

The taxi drive to the airport at 3am was when it all hit hard and my optimism crumbled. As the taxi driver started the ignition and accelerated, I felt myself choking up. As we drove farther and father away from Rumeli Hisarüstü, I felt my eyes get heavy with tears and eventually burst. The taxi driver, an old man with extremely paternal characteristics, glanced back in his rear-view mirror very sensitively and let out a hearty laugh, you know the ones that precede any type of awkward consoling. He went on a large tangent in Turkish. I was only able to pick up on some of his sentences, but I knew he was trying to make me feel better. What I did pick up on were some of his many proverbs. Each of which he’d recite with a supplemental chuckle and periodic hand gestures. Upon arriving to the airport he barely took what he deserved of the fare, and immediately ran inside to pick up a luggage cart. He came back, set my entire luggage on the cart and smiled. I sincerely thanked him and waved goodbye. He nodded in reassurance and replied “Rica ederim, güle güle.”

So begins the countdown to the end, or more optimistically, the start of a new beginning. My last couple days in Istanbul were oversaturated with a similar sequence of terribly cliché questions:

“Are you upset?” “What did you love about Istanbul?” “What was your best memory?” “What won’t you forget?” “What did you hate?” “Will you miss it?”

The only of the questions mentioned above that had me thinking for the past couple days was if I’ll miss it. Simple question to a brutally obvious question. Duh! OF COURSE I’LL MISS IT! But then the supplemental question becomes, “why?” And that’s what I’ve been reflecting on, something I’m really grappling with because it’s hard to conceptualize. I can’t seem to articulate an even sub-par answer. 

Here’s my nostalgia in a panoramic view:

1. Beauties in the Rough: Istanbul is so vibrant, so alive. There are no awe-inspiring lights like NYC or impressive skyscrapers. The spirit of Istanbul isn’t just in its aesthetics but the hustle and bustle from tourists, the history seeping in from its every corner, and from the vitality of all those Galatasaray fans decked out in their fan gear chanting anthems in the streets. Istanbul is always a sight for soar eyes and the city in itself remedies any lost faith in the good that exists in the world.

2. Azan: Call to prayer five times a day put you at ease without fail whether you have intentions of praying or not. Probably one of the greatest examples of contravening chaos and tranquility was when mosques would have competing azans. A verse ended for one and the other chimed in to fill the gap of silence. It was really quite powerful. There were so many nights where I was awake to hear the azan for Fajr and went to bed with the deepest satisfaction. 

3. Turkish Lira: Oh how I’ll miss opening my wallet to see these colorful notes blanketed with all kinds of bacteria and çay stains, and of course, Atatürk’s treasured face. Turkish Lira have made me a major advocate for coin substitutes for the one dollar bill. It’s notable to mention that my underlying love for the Lira stems from the ever-pleasing, favorable exchange rate. I know everything I purchase in the next couple months in America will have an accompanying Lira value in my head. 

4. Street Treats: Nothing like instant gratification for instantaneous cravings on the street. No contemplation, calculation, or second thoughts. The street food culture in Istanbul is unmatched and more than this corn on the cob, I resent myself for not eating one final handful of stuffed mussels drizzled in lemon.

5. Cats: I could’ve probably kept up another blog exclusively documenting the ridiculous encounters I had with cats on a daily basis. Stray cats were everywhere on my campus and were treated like royalty. I’m not a particularly huge cat fan, so they didn’t get even an ounce of TLC from me. From the computer lab, to my friends lap in class during an exam, the cats did not hesitate to remind us that they will do what they want, when they want because they run the town. Here are two perched on the flipside of a chair stacked up in the canteen.

6. The Bosphorous: Arguably the most profoundly charming and graceful body of water in the world. Granted, I haven’t seen very many bodies of water but seeing the Bosphorous day after day reinforced my awe. Undeniably stunning.

7. The Good, The Bad, & The Ghetto: I used this pathetic, prehistoric cell phone for four months. Heads up to those who think taking an unlocked phone from America will work with a pay-as-you-go simcard. No, it won’t. So prepare yourself to use this device… that takes you back to basics. By basics I don’t mean T9, but even more archaic technology than that. I deemed it useless by Month 2, because every time there was a situation that called for quick action, by the time I actually got around to typing the text it was a) too late b) the situation took a 180… which required deleting and retyping. I sold it back to Turkcell at the end of the semester and boast the 100 Lira I made. Yeah, the Turkcell guy pulled some strings and gave me a 30 Lira bonus that he said he only gives to his most prized customers. Since I was there day in an day out with one problem or another, he reckoned it would appropriate to give me the sweetener.

8. Sugar: Apart from single squares of chocolate bakhlavas, halal gummy bears, and some strange variations of western desserts like an apple crisp that wasn’t even made of much apple, Kinder bars were the ultimate pick-me up treats. I don’t recall ever walking out of the grocery store empty-handed. I paid the extra couple kuruş to upgrade from a Milka to a Kinder because I knew Kinder had a rule over me that no human authority does. Kinder packets come with two individually wrapped bars, for reasons I tend to overlook. The content of the packet usually vanished 50 meters before I reached my dorm. #fatgirlproblems

9. Leisure Hydration: There’s no quantifying how much I’ll miss my daily saleps and çays. I perceive salep to be comparable to what a hot drink in heaven could potentially taste like. Hot milk, honey, orchid root, caramelized almonds, and cinnamon. They say it cures everything from a flu to bad knees and I am walking evidence of this. If only we had amenities as such in Chicago…

10. Truth is I can’t really think of a 10. Not under the pretense of lacking content, but because there’s so much that could fit here. I experienced virtually no homesickness in Istanbul, apart from an occasional time here and there. But why? Because I was submersed in so much good. From my friends to the air that I was in. Istanbul was my home, it felt like it; and that takes more than 4 walls and a doorknob. So I’ll leave 10, ambiguous to pay homage to all the unsung and unspoken beauties of Türkiye.

As some as you may know, my parents joined me in Istanbul on Christmas Eve into the New Year. The thing I was anticipating most apart from their company was the opportunity to relive the glory and excitement of being a tourist. We went to the typical must-see landmarks, got our palettes dirty with all the street food, and set aside time to visit the Grand Bazaar virtually every day.

Probably the greatest part of having them around was watching them marvel at all the unofficial sights, rare angles of the Bosphorous, and the underrated quaint districts just as I did four months ago. All the places no tourist really ever sees, the local joints, the local beauties. Watching others bewilder at things that have already blown you away brings about a whole new delight. They experienced an entirely new dimension of Istanbul, which was what made their visit so special.

I resisted temptation to visit Dolmabahçe Palace and Galata Tower week after week in effort to keep some parts of Istanbul “new.”

Dolmabahçe Palace: Dolmabahçe sits on the European shore of the Bosphorous, which contributes to its majestic nature and the nature of its Ottoman inhabitants. It is the most grand of the imperial Ottoman palaces but the most recent as well. In 1856, the imperial family moved from their “medieval” Topkapı Palace to live in a seemingly more modern, European style magnificence. Sign of the times, right? The palace consists of the selamlik and a harem, the former is the public area for ceremonies, banquets, etc. and the latter is exclusively the family quarters.

The palace was built between 1843 and 1856 and the design integrates baroque, neoclassical elements with traditional Ottoman architecture. Six sultans inhabited the palace until 1924 when ownership was reassigned to Atatürk. Here he spent the last decade or so of his life, until his death in 1938. At which point Dolmabahçe became a museum and all the clocks in the palace were stopped at 9:05 am in honor of Atatürk. Cheesy, right? Turkey knows drama.

As any Sultan’s palace should be, it has not only 43 salons and 285 rooms, but a 4.5 ton crystal chandelier. Perhaps the most notable and outstanding parts of Dolma is the Bohemian crystal chandelier and the accompanying grand staircases with its obscenely embellished banister. Apparently the chandelier was a gift from Queen Victoria. The décor and architecture is actually quite overwhelming. I almost felt like the use of gold, crystal, and velvet embellishments needed to be reduced. So much, in that it came as a great disappointment when I learned the toilet seats in the palace were unfortunately not studded with gold. No photography was allowed, so enjoy these pictures… that I didn’t take. 

Galata Tower: Galata is that pretty tower you see in every silhouette of the Istanbul skyline. The tower was initially constructed in 1348 as a Christian symbol during the expansion of the Genoese colony in Constantinople. At the time, it was the highest point in the skyline. To date, it has been reconstructed a couple times and has withstood a number of earthquakes and fires as its original construction was of a wooden interior and exterior. What makes the admission fee into Galata worth it is the stunning panoramic view of Istanbul from the top. No matter where you stand on its 360-degree deck, the city gleams just as beautifully.

Every year we come up with an ambitious, oftentimes far-fetched agenda for the following year. A commitment to reform habits, achieve new milestones… you know, resolutions. I don’t remember much about my resolutions for 2012 nor do I recall expending any effort to reach them.  I’ll tell you one thing though, by no stretch of my imagination did I foresee myself where I am or experiencing all that I have. Had no expectations of ringing in 2013 in Istanbul, as a student, in the company of my family. I guess that’s the beauty of the New Year… the clean slate mixed with the sheer spontaneity of what lies ahead.

2012 stands on a pedestal because it was a year of “firsts,” and shrunk my bucket list significantly.

1.    Jumped out of a plane at an altitude of 14,000 feet

2.    Spent four months studying in Istanbul

3.    Attended the Summer Olympics

4.    Interned at my dream company

5.    Went hot air balloon riding

6.    Travelled to places I only dreamt about going to

…. I’ll stop there.

Shrinking may not be the best word as I have the tendency to simultaneously add things to the lists I make as I cross things off. The more I see the more I want to know, the more I want to explore. Travelling is contagious and I don’t think this bug will ever go away. God is good though, God is good. 

Prospects for the coming year? Nothing. I expect nothing from the New Year only because it’s better to have no expectations than too many. Plus I can’t articulate a year better than the past one so, come what may. For the sake of resolutions, here’s an attainable one I think we all need to make a conscious effort to be mindful of. Take what comes to you, stresses with a grain of salt, joys with gratitude, and sorrows with optimism. And secondly, don’t make the same mistakes. If you’re in a rut find an exit and TAKE it. Don’t fumble. We owe that to the New Year.

2012 set the bar so high it was nearly out of sight. But I’m excited to see what kind of potential lies in 2013. Wishing everyone incessant health, joy upon joy, and successful resolutions this year. Love to all.

I live in a city with hundreds of regal, awe-inspiring mosques… all with their own tales and inherent beauties. I thought it would only be appropriate to give you a report on three of my favorite mosques in Istanbul.

Rüstem Paşa Camii (Rustem Pasha Mosque)

Today studying got to the best of me. Yeah, I know… who studies while they’re studying abroad? I do. I hopped on the 43R on my way out of the copy store and caught the tram to Eminönü, where I was bent on seeing the Rüstem Paşa Camii. This was the first time I’ve taken an impulse trip to the Old City on my own and it was unbelievably therapeutic. I may have redefined “study-break”.

The fascinating thing about Rüstem Paşa Camii is that it sits above the Hasircilar Carsisi, the Weavers’ Market that overlooks the Golden Horn. When I stepped off the tram in Eminönü, I saw it elevated in the distance but as I approached closer I got stuck in the chaos of the market and lost sight of where I was going. I stopped and looked up, trying to follow the shadow of the minaret in order to locate an entrance. As I was absent-mindedly looking up, I was inattentive to the man who was about to plough me down, pushing cement in a wheelbarrow yelling at me in Turkish to get out of his way. In frustration I started speed-walking, flashing pity smiles at the Turkish Santa Claus trying to sell me tinsel instead of pistachios and fake Chanel bags… that’s a first. Through the social commotion I paced past alley upon alley, almost positive I was going in circle. I caught sight of an eclipsed indenture behind a vendor who had placed his tray of mussels and lemons right in front of it. I dodged behind him, skipped up the stairs and finally reached the courtyard of the mosque where it was absolutely serene.

I could hear the hushed tones of hustle and bustle in the market below me, and feint horns from the traffic in the distance. There was NOBODY there, I mean… nobody. I took off my shoes, placed them in a bag and proceeded inside where there was ONE man praying in the farthest most corner from where I was standing. And a street vendor or some domestic servant was praying outside. There was also a table o free pocket Qurans outside with a sign that read “ This is our presentation to you.” Made me LOL… omit the “ation.”

Rüstem Paşa Camii is praised for its ornate Ottoman artistry.Rüstem Paşa was the husband of Sultan Süleyman’s daughter Mihrimah. The mosque was built in his honor after his death in 1561. There’s nothing simplistic about the artwork or construction of this mosque. Perhaps the most notable aspect of Rüstem Paşa Camii are its meticulous Iznik tiles in elaborate floral and geometric designs covering everything from the walls in the courtyard to the mihrab. The color palette consisted of every hue of blue and a blazing, tomato-red, a shade that was used widely in Iznik pottery.

Süleymaniye Camii (Süleymaniye Mosque)

As the name reveals, this mosque was constructed in honor of Sultan Süleyman the Magnificent, arguably one of the most powerful Ottoman emperors in 1557. Süleymaniye also overlooks the Golden Horn and is situated adjacent to the Grand Bazaar, along the walls of Istanbul University. It boasts an intricate, rich interior. The architect, Sinan, was among the greatest architects of the Ottoman Empire and composed it to rival the Aya Sofya. Although in proportion it doesn’t compare, in precision and light it’s transcendent.

Sultan Süleyman and his sultana Roxalana’s tombs lay in the garden behind the mosque. The interior is a lustrous paradise. The natural light combined with the creams and soft-hued reds make for such a temperate ambiance. And the white marble mihrab is really striking.

My friend S and I decided to pray Jummah at Süleymaniye for a change.

As I mentioned, the walls of Istanbul University and Süleymaniye are virtually connected. Boys and girls both came in between classes for the Friday prayer. Probably the greatest thing about our experience here that Friday was the Post-Jummah atmosphere beyond the walls of the mosque; Turks from every walk of life mingling and rejoicing over a traditional Turkish meal. We too joined in on the celebrations by treating ourselves to a warm, gratifying meal whilst sitting outside in the bitter cold people-watching and giggling through the afternoon.

Yeni Camii (The New Mosque)

You can’t miss this one; it’s a diamond in the Istanbul skyline. Many people mistake Yeni Camii for the Blue Mosque. It’s a mosque of vast proportions, cascading domes and minarets.  I mean, the mosque treasures 66 domes altogether. The interior is heavily embellished by gold and marble… lots of it. The courtyard of this mosque is never, NOT busy. It has that Trafalgar Square feel with pigeons flying everywhere. In fact, I just learned that Sultan Mehmet IV, Ahmet III, and Mustafa II are buried in a chamber of the courtyard.

Construction of Yeni Camii began in 1597 by request of Safiye Sultan, the mother of Sultan Mehmet III. The town this mosque was built in, now Eminönü, was a highly concentrated by a Jewish population. Construction was haulted due to a fiscal and political issues and the project was abandoned until 1663 and completed two years later. Hence the name when it’s really not that “new” at all.

Rating mosques seems rather improper, but I can’t mask my biases.

There’s a Chinese idiom, “one day, three autumns” which is used to describe longing for something or someone. Nostalgia. Something I will inevitably experience in regards to Boğaziçi in 10 days when I leave.

I’ve mentioned this a couple times but Boğaziçi, my university, sits right on the Bosphorous. By “sits on” I mean it’s literally adjacent to the water and apart from a classroom, glimpses of the Bosphorous are visible from every contour of our campus. The way the Bosphorous shines every day makes it appear as though it’s encrusted with crystals. And what’s even more refreshing is the crisp smell of the water that floats in the air.

I’ve been adamant on writing about this, the past couple days there’s been a musing I’ve been wanting to share.

Regularly, I find myself walking behind or alongside a blind student. I hadn’t been exposed to very many blind individuals in an academic setting prior to coming to Boğaziçi. In fact, I can count the interactions with blind students I’ve had on one hand. But, by no stretch of my intellect can I express what stars these people are. I can’t be empathetic because I can’t begin to conceive how different their experience on this campus is in contrast to mine.

Just as a child would do, upon seeing a blind student the other day I decided to close my eyes and attempted to walk down the narrow, downhill path to campus. Deftly stepping inch-by-inch, stealing peeks at what laid ahead, it didn’t take five steps until I hopelessly surrendered that challenge.

With disheveled bricks and cobblestone, each step presents a risk. I joke with my friend all the time; the angel of death crosses paths with us way too many times a day. Crossing the street is like dodging bullets even when the crosswalk light is green. But in all my observations, the blind students have always very smoothly made their moves and transitions. In class, they will gracefully stand up, neatly pack their notes into their book bag, realign their garments, grip their white cane, and proceed to the door amidst the havoc of other students, darting negligently from every direction ensuring the tempo of their schedule remains undisturbed. Not that I impatiently wait for them to seek help in a moment of weakness, but I am always walking in their shadow ready to assist at any opportune moment.

I watch as with much tact and poise, they walk through the chaos of rush hour, through steep uphills and slim downhills. Just missing the stubborn stray cat’s tail and brushing past tree branches that seem to bow down to them as they walk by. Rarely do they lack grace, seldom do they trample, and never do they lose sight of their direction.

How often is it that even with all our senses intact, and with our abstruse sense of sight, we lose direction.

They don’t see the view I see every day, which just reinforces the countless bounties I have; we all have. Of course eyesight perceives vibrancy of colors, aesthetics, and visual beauty but I guess what we experience after initial perceptions has to do more with what we feel inside. Those warm feelings and enlightening sentiments. 

“Riches are not from and abundance of wordly goods but from a contented mind.” That contentment comes from discerning the glories and complexities of the marvels that surround me.

-Turkish Proverb

We’ve all grown up hearing our respective regional/cultural proverbs. Here’s one in Turkish that we all know: Iyi bir şirket ile, hiçbir yol uzun, which translates to “no road is long with good company.” The following are some Turkish/Ottoman Proverbs I’ve heard in the past couple months which have resonated:

Dereyi gormeden pacalari sivama. Don’t roll up your pants before reaching the stream. (It’s better to underestimate than overestimate outcomes)

Sakla samanı, gelir zamanı. Keep straw, its time will come. (Insignificant things oftentimes have significant purposes)

Tatli soz yilani deliginden cikarir. Kind words will get a snake out of its hole. (Kill with kindness)

Aslan yattığı yerden belli olur. You can tell a lion from where he dwells. (A person’s company and surroundings speak volumes)

Sütten ağzı yanan yoğurdu üfleyerek yer. The one who burnt his tongue drinking hot milk will even blow on yogurt before eating. (One bad experience and you’ll always take precaution)

Sakinilan göze cöp batar. An over-protected eye gets the speck. (Being over-cautious also invites misfortunes)

Minareyi çalan kılıfını hazırlar. If you want to steal the minaret, prepare a sack to hide it. (Always prepare beforehand)

Bir elin nesi var, iki elin sesi var. It takes two hands to hear a clap. (It takes two to tango)

Bülbülü altın kafese koymuşlar, ah vatanım demiş. They put the nightingale in a golden cage, but it still craved its country. (Home is where the heart is)

And lastly, Çok yaşayan bilmez, çok gezen bilir. Not he who lived long knows, but he who travelled much knows. (Experience and age are incomparable, wisdom comes from the well-travelled)

Istanbul through an intuitive lens. A visual masterpiece manifesting distinct elements of this city that I see and experience every single day.

Sunday, December 16, 2012

As the end of my time is drawing nearer, I’m having trouble articulating my appreciation for Turkish culture and traditions in words. My feelings get lost in translation. There’s so many stories I want to write about, both personal and impersonal, and so many things I wish I could document through more deserving methods than photos. But nothing has the capacity to sufficiently recreate good times except for things that allow you to only have greater times. Shifting energies from trying to replicate and duplicate, to just create. And trying my best to absorb it with all my senses, and preserve it the best way I can. 

Today we decided to pay the Asian side a visit and tour Kiz Kulesi, known as the Maiden’s Tower, a popular attraction in Asian Istanbul. It has been sitting on an island just a few meters from the Asian coast since the medieval Byzantine period. The tower opened up in 2000 for public visitation and is now home to a café, restaurant, and an observation deck. This tower has 2 legends that I will try to eloquently sum up for you:

Legend 1: There was once a sultan and he had a beautiful young daughter. It was prophesized that a sultans daughter would be killed on her 18^th birthday by a venomous snake bite. In effort to protect his daughter and cheat her death, he had the tower built to protect her. For 18 years he was her only visitor. On her 18^th birthday, he brought her baskets of fruits to celebrate overcoming her ill-fated prophecy, but a snake had come in with the fruit and bit the princess. She instantly died in her father’s arms.

Legend 2: The cheesier, less believable and more Bollywood legend has origins in Greek mythology. The Goddess of Love, Aphrodite, had a priestess named Hero who lived in the tower, and a man named Leander fell in love with her. He would swim across the water to see her every night guided by the light of her lamp shining in the window. One night there was a storm and the light was blown out from the wind. Leander lost his way and his body washed up at the bottom of the tower in the morning. In heartbreak and unable to cope with her grief, Hero threw herself out of the tower.

So which do you think is true? I can’t say, they’re both pretty bizarre.

After returning from Kiz Kulesi, we decided to join Turks of every age, shape, and size on the seaside. We enjoyed a little hot drink and watched the sun do a magical dance in the sky as dusk came upon us. We were seeing Istanbul from a contrasting lens today, a completely new dynamic—Asia to Europe not Europe to Asia. We rested along the Bosphorous on blocked, concrete steps covered with Turkish floor cushions (a genius idea, by the way). I was sipping on my çay which was serving dual purposes. First to make me appear more culturally well-rounded because it’s almost chic to be sitting outside in the cold with a cup of çay in hand. And secondly, to warm up my lifeless fingers with the heat radiating from the wall of my cup. Yesterday shared a similar sentiment as my friend and I sat outside Sulemaniye Çami post-jummah and sipped on cups of tea while our teeth were chattering, observing all the congruous activities around us.

Those who know me, also know I’m not keen on drinking much tea nor am I reliant on any kind of hot drink to get me through the day unless some condition proves otherwise. Now that I’m 21, a legitimate but poor excuse for an adult, elders ask me if I want some tea. I almost always respectfully decline, and the response to my rejection is a look of surprise or what I’ve interpreted as blatant judgment. I guess it births some notion that since I don’t drink tea, then I probably can’t make a good cup of it either, which means I lack a very fundamental cultural skillset. Well, for the record: I make a great cup of tea.

Coming from a culture where drinking tea is a naturalized ritual and a symbolic part of daily life, I didn’t think the fervent Turkish drinking culture would be much of a shock. I know all there is to know about various teas thanks to my mom who taught me at a very early age that Lipton is a sad excuse for “tea.” In fact, we’ve been importing our tea from England for as long as I can remember, and continue to do so whenever an opportunity presents itself. But Turkish tea has really won me over and I’m happy about it. 

Turkish tea is a whole other story, contrary to what you may think. Firstly, Turkish tea is nothing like the “colonized” version of tea that most people are familiar with. All you Indians and Pakistanis out there: you only drink your çay with milk because that’s how the British taught you. Turkish tea comes from customary Ottoman lineage and is brewed much differently than conventional methods. It’s a black tea, but even if you’re a staunch milk-tea drinker you’ll come to love it with a cube or two of beet sugar and no milk

çay (prounounced chai), is served uniformly in nearly every public establishment. Whether you’re taking a little extra time browsing in a jewelry store or sitting on the street corner waiting for a friend, there’s always a little time for a sip or two of Turkish heritage. Slurp. Served before meals, after meals, between meals, in place of meals, çay is everywhere. In areas with dense tourist and pedestrian populations you’ll probably see a man carrying around a tray of freshly prepared çay to satisfy your instant çay demands on quicker than short notice.

My first time having Turkish çay was in a small alley right off the street in Sultan Ahmet the day after I arrived. I was sitting on short Turkish stool made of straw, excited to embark on my first çay drinking experience like a real Turk. I won’t lie, I didn’t like it but drank it anyway because it seemed like a necessary culinary accessory to have on your table at all times. Overtime, ordering a çay became my mechanism to get the Wi-Fi password at many cafes. Unknowingly I developed a peculiar attachment to it, something I didn’t foresee happening at all. This begins the first reflection of many things I’ll undoubtedly miss about Turkish culture: tea time (which ironically doesn’t even exist because it’s tea time is all the time).

Of course, just like any custom, çay also has many deep cultural and traditional facets. Among the most important is a gesture of hospitality. It’s typically served in the arrangement of an ornately decorated slim glass, a matching saucer, and a small teaspoon. They say the glass should be thin and delicate like the waist of a beautiful lady (scandalous, huh). Anyway, all this got me thinking of the good moments and hearty laughs I’ve had with a cup of çay in hand on countless occasions. The warmth of drinking a cup of çay is unparalleled. I feel invincibly warm both inside and out. Today I watched people sharing news, joys, and laugh upon laugh over cups of çay with a peaceful Bosphorous as a backdrop. Deliberations, introductions, discussions, and relaxation can all seamlessly take place with a cup of çay. The drink emits a sense of congeniality and goodwill. It brings you together and breaks the ice. It’s a ritual people have shared for generations and that’s where the beauty of it stems from. Plus, its versatility is boundless, a pallete cleanser and a medical agent?  Oddly enough, I’ve started liking kiwi tea. It tastes like hot kool-aid and has a funky green shade.

Another thing I’ve acquired a taste for over the months is Turkish coffee, which has a taste unlike any coffee I’ve had. Every Tuesday I have a sculpting class that I enrolled in for kicks and giggles. Overtime, I’ve come to be rather impressed by my work and surprised how therapeutic/fun sculpting can be even if you don’t have any innate artistic talent. Over these 14 weeks I’ve definitely developed a reverence for sculpture, and more broadly for art. As we sculpt, my teacher always prepares us small cups of Turkish coffee. Turkish coffee and fortune readings go hand in hand. Upon finishing your coffee, the saucer is supposed to be placed above the cup and then turned face down immediately then left to cool. Someone other than the drinker is supposed to lift the cup from the saucer and interpret the pattern that forms inside as it is supposed to trigger some kind of psychic insight. Although elaborate Turkish coffee fortune telling is seen as a right of passage, most people only reveal the positive revelations. They’re called “soothsayers.” The cup is divided in to horizontal halves. The bottom half share messages from the past and the top half from the future. One of my classmates told me that the right side with the handle will tell you about your family, and the left side tells you about your love life.

Being the periodic klutz that I am, I usually end up forgetting to turn my coffee cup over to cool, which leaves me with an empty fortune. My teacher always laughs, shakes her head and says “Ufff, Zareen” disapprovingly. The Turkish students have even gotten used to this reoccurring mistake that seems almost habitual. In my defense, I’m usually dealing with a clay crisis so fortune-telling is lower on my priority list.  But this Tuesday I’m determined to do it right. I’m pure entertainment in this class, I know they all enjoy seeing the only America kid make a fool of herself time and time again. They’ll miss me when I’m gone.

Friday, December 14, 2012

Ahoj!

That’s “hello” in Czech. 

Praha: More widely known as Prague is a jewel of Europe. So what words can I use to profess my love for this gem? There’s none. Prague is a spectacle of Central EU too often underrated or not even rated at all. My fervor for Prague is rooted in inspiration from my Grandfather, who very recently took a 7-day trip to Prague and Vienna with his buddies. I didn’t hesitate to seize the opportunity to go on this trip for several reasons. One among many was because I have a travel bug and all I want to do is globe trot. Secondly, I had no expectations. Prague could have been the a nightmare of a destination or the city that won my heart over, and it indefinitely did the latter. If it’s good, it’s wonderful, if it’s bad, it’s an experience. So my advice to you: pick a destination and travel without expectations. I bet you every lira in my wallet you will have the time of your life and return home with a smile you won’t be able to wipe off for days. I would go back in a heartbeat.

The only damper, although rather unsubstantial in the grand scheme of things, was that it was brutally chilly. In my defense, I forgot what Chicago winters were like because of my 9 month summer this year. Unfortunately, my Northface parka and Uggs didn’t make it to this side of the world with me, but were continuously in my thoughts as I roamed the cobblestone streets of Malá Strana. The chill led to some snow, which inevitably resulted in a delayed flight home. We were on the runway when our pilot told us we’d be delayed until further notice upon which a passenger caused absolute mayhem. He demanded to be let off the plane because he was going to miss his connecting flight. Sir, how about you sit down and wait like the other poor souls who are bearing a similar burden. But no, he demanded his suitcase be taken out of cargo and asked to exit the plane. So that’s what happened. I didn’t even know that was allowed! Bad karma is coming to this man. The rest of the passengers took this opportunity to get drunk and drown their loathing of air travel in all the alcohol the cabin crew would give them. Which was a lot.

Anyway, back to Prague. It has everything: culture, history, and sheer entertainment. We explored every nook and cranny, that is, the Communist Museum, the National Theater, the world’s largest ice bar, the Jewish Quarter, a World War bunker, Lennon Wall, Petrin Hill, Prague Castle, Franz Kafka’s gravesite. The list goes on. We even got our hands on some bubble tea. By the way, I have become a great advocate for hostel travelling after this trip. Of course, find a good hostel like the one I’m about to recommend: The Czech Inn. Easily the best accommodations ever, great company, and delicious food for a price that doesn’t even require you to have a wallet. Comparable to a 5 star hotel, in my opinion. We were greeted on Thursday by being asked to assist in decorating their Christmas Tree and feasting on their holiday goodies. Hostels will give your travel a lot more character. The people you meet and the situations you encounter are priceless and make for the best post-trip stories. It’s located at the Krymska stop on the 22/4 Tramline. The sound of the Czech woman on the tramstop recording is still lingering in my ears.

Lennon Wall: The Lennon Wall has been masked by Lennon-inspired graffiti, teachings of love and peace, and excerpt lyrics from classic Beatle’s music. During the communist regime of Gustáv Husák in the late 1980’s, Czech’s used this wall to express social and political grievances. This began a movement by students that came to be known as “Lennonism” and this subgroup was deemed juvenile, deranging, and derivatives of Western capitalism ideals by the Czech government. An original portrait of John Lennon hides beneath layers of abstract graffiti art and paint. A subtle, intimate candle-lit memorial still stands at the wall as a testament to Lennon. On your way here you walk over a mini-bridge adorned by hundreds of locks. They say if you attach a lock to proclaim your love on this bridge, your love will be everlasting.

Christmas Markets: You pamper all your senses here. I experienced genuine Christmas cheer for the first time in my life. I know, it’s a bold statement coming from an American, but a declaration of how commercialized the holiday has become in America versus Eastern and Central Europe. The Czech’s have truly up-ed their ante when it comes to Christmas by capturing and preserving the essence of every Christmas sentiment. Every town square is illuminated with Christmas Markets populated with jovial shoppers, holiday enthusiasts, and enchanted tourists throughout the month of December. And the Rockefeller Christmas Tree in Madison Square Garden is no comparison to the tree sparkling in the Old Town Square, believe it or not. Ah, I felt so happy here! You know how in childhood you envision what the magical North Pole would be like with Santa Claus and Mrs. Claus along with all their little elves in a warm triumphant ambiance. All those Christmas myths kindle and come to life here. Christmas carolers and live symphony performances. There are shops of ornaments, wooden toys, Czech artifacts, warm ciders, hot wine, chocolates and teas. Baroque jewelry, handmade scarves and mittens, puppets, candles with the most fanciful aromas, delicate crystal, and the most appetizing selection of cold weather treats. We ate potato soup in bread bowls, chicken skewers on warm baguette, cinnamon sugar bread in hazelnut, nutella, or caramel flavor (think of this as the ultimate Auntie Anne’s pretzel), and savory garlic pastries with a tomato sauce and Czech cheese. A DELIGHT.

Orloj: An intricate treasure of the Old Town Square that glows in the night and gleams in the day is in the famous Astronomical Clock, The Orloj. The Orloj celebrated its 600^th anniversary in 2010, but every hour a piquant clock show takes place that you’ll probably catch a glimpse of in the Old Town Square. It was installed in the 14^th century, making it the only astronomical clock still functioning. The Orloj’s complex anatomy is medieval, design— mystifying. Its mechanism is composed of three components, the Astronomical Dial, embodying the Sun and the Moon on the two clock hands; “The Walk of the Apostles” among them namely a figure of Death personified by the skeleton; and the third is the rotary outer, Calendar Dial representing months of the Zodiac with gold ornamental medallions. Perhaps the most intriguing component is the Astronomical Dial, reflective of medieval perceptions of the Universe and symbolizing all elements of nature. The three circles on the dial, if you observe closely, have Old Czech Time marked by numerals, Roman numerals show Central European Time, and Arab numerals show Babylonian Time. Time has accurately and flawlessly been represented for 600 years according to season and this is the only clock with capabilities to measure this data without any tampering to date.

St. Charles Bridge: The view of Prague Castle from this bridge takes your breath away. This bridge crosses the Vltava River and is the primary connection between Old Town and the Prague Castle, as well as any adjoining areas. Brace yourselves; construction of this bridge began in the beginning of the 13^th century. With gargoyles and depiction of various saints, the bridge tower is considered one of the most grand, gothic-style buildings in the world. Although there’s never really a time this bridge is empty it feels really intimate. It feels as though you enter another realm— a bubble of some sort as soon as you step foot on it. You feel as though you’re the singular entity standing on this bridge, and the people around you are merely white noise. It’s kind of cryptic, most probably due to the gothic architecture. I wished I went to this place at sunrise and witnessed the aesthetic climate. If I go revisit Prague it’s on my to-do list.

That’s it for now. I can ramble about Prague for pages but storytelling via blogging will do my visit no justice. These stories need to be heard real time. Or better yet, go to Prague and witness the luster yourself.

Na shledanou