I'm on a boat

Aside from the obvious landmarks, we were able to explore a few other things. One of the more relaxing parts of our trip was taking a boat tour along the Bosporus Strait to the Asian side of Istanbul. This was almost four hours (to and from) of beautiful coastlines dotted with homes, electric towers, mosques (we counted twenty total at one junction alone), and Turkish flags. We'd initially boarded the boat too late and almost resigned ourselves to sitting inside the cabin, having to peek over the shoulders of people lucky enough to sit outside. Fortunately, after a enough exposure to the Turkish "every-man-for-himself" way, we were able to squeeze ourselves onto the deck. Our boat stopped at Anadolu Kavagi. We had the option of climbing up to the Yoros Castle or relaxing on the patio of a waterfront restaurant, making use of their WiFi. We chose the latter. Our return trip was not as exciting, mostly because our prime upper level seats became a popular spot for people to hover, obnoxiously blocking our view and insisting that we still had a foot of space to utilize. My passive aggressive retorts ("Oh, I'm sorry, I thought waiting outside in the heat for two hours would've entitled me to a better view than you") fell deaf on non-English speaking ears.

View of Anadolu Kavagi

One of the coolest things we got to see were the famous whirling dervishes. This also happened to be one of the more disappointing parts of our trip as well. After hours of site seeing, we took the train to what we thought would be an easy way to the Galata Mevlevihanesi, an authentic monastery. Unfortunately, we weren't prepared for the grueling hike up the slanted road. When we eventually made it, after some wheezing and an aching side, we were told tickets to the prayer had been sold out. After recuperating on the curb of a sidewalk, watching ticket holders easily pass through, we took a cab to Taksim Square to eat a late lunch. This was not the same Square the media had been sensationalizing in the U.S. for months on end. Aside from the dozens of police officers present, it looked like any normal city center. The restaurant we ate at had a great view of the Republic Monument (pictured), as well as all the passersby. This allowed us to rack up numbers on our denim shirt count. Apparently denim shirts are a thing with Turkish men. Our count exceeded 100 by the end of the trip.

We then took the train back to Eminonu (making note of the very clean underground train system) and caught another dervish prayer at Serkeci Gar. We were greeted by two young men who showed us to our seats, one of whom asked whether we were Canadian or American. He said he was getting better at distinguishing between the two. When the ceremony began, we noticed that two of the participants looked an awful lot like our young ushers...I don't know if this was done by legitimate Sufi dervishes. But I do know that training for the ceremony can't have been an easy process. It was very interesting to see the role of music and Islamic scripture in their meditation. We ended up eating dinner at a nearby Irish pub (so random!) where many Turkish patrons had gathered to watch a local football (soccer) game.

On our last day we were able to visit some of the old churches. Although we didn't get to some of the churches I really wanted to see (such as Zeyrek and St. George), we did get to see some beautiful buildings. My favorite was Chora Church, a 500 year old church decorated with flying buttresses on the outside and countless mosaics and frescoes on the inside. Much like the larger mosques we'd already seen, I didn't know where to start looking. We also got to see the Aya Triada, another Greek Orthodox church and the Church of St. Anthony, a Catholic Church (my first one!) on Istiklal Street. With very tired legs, we ended up taking a cab more on this last day. One of our cab driver spoke English fluently and gave us a bit of guided tour of the city, pointing out the Jewish neighborhood and even quizzing us on landmarks for "points".

Inside Chora Church

Inside the dome of Chora Church.

Mosaic inside the Aya Triada.

We also were able to visit Galata Tower, a medieval landmark with an observation deck that gives you an amazing view of Istanbul. We also saw the Basilica Cistern, a Roman aqueduct near the Hagia Sophia. This was actually really cool to see. Fun fact: one of the James Bond movies filmed a scene down here.

View from Galata Tower (You can see the Hagia Sophia and Blue Mosque in the distance!)

From inside the Basilica Cistern
At the end of the fifth day we were exhausted and ready to go home. After an awkward dinner on the rooftop patio of our hotel (I say awkward because the creepy guest services manager of our hotel insisted on sitting with us), we caught some sleep before heading to the airport at 3 am. This is when something interesting happened - We were caught in a situation where we needed to understand what our Turkish-speaking driver was saying to us. I sought out a driver of a shuttle bus and asked if he spoke both English and Turkish, to which he answered yes. Relieved, I asked if he could translate for us, as we really needed to understand our driver. His response? No. I was appalled. Here we were, three women, standing with at least half a dozen bags outside of the airport at 3 am and this man wouldn't help us? He said a few words in Turkish to our driver and left. Still seething, I decided to try asking someone else, this time a female airport employee. I asked her the same two questions. She hesitated for a few moments before finally answering, "no". Just like the man. No.

So that was it. This was going to be my last impression of not only Istanbul, but Turkey itself. That these were inhospitable, rude, and selfish people. I kept thinking that back home in the U.S., should a South Asian tourist ask me if I could help translate from Urdu to English, that I would gladly oblige. But then I looked at our mustachioed driver, who continued to speak to us in mostly Turkish, repeating, "no problem!" again and again, refusing to leave us alone until our problem was solved. In the end, one of his colleagues solved our problem, and neither man asked for extra money. It was the middle of the night and one of them had to take a drive that he didn't ask to be paid for. We left them with the little remaining lira we had left. And when I think of Turkish people, I want to think of the these two drivers, the friendly cabbie, the waiter who brought over Turkish Delight and tea on the house, and of course, the very attractive scarf vendor in the bazaar.

So, Istanbul taught me two things - (1) There is always kindness people. One or two bad experiences shouldn't define a people as a whole. And (2) - It took traveling to the other side of the world to a foreign country for me to appreciate my Pakistani heritage. I'd mentioned earlier than the Turks seemed unimpressed when we said we were American. I think this was largely due to a language barrier. Most people we said this to would ask where I was really from (some guessed I was actually Turkish). When I admitted to being Pakistani (something that gets me looks of horror or sympathy in the U.S.), I noticed a complete attitude change. I heard several cries of, "Oh, we love Pakistanis!" and one woman even went on about how much she adored the late prime minister, Benazir Bhutto. By the fourth day of our trip, I was proudly saying I was Pakistani.

Thank you, Istanbul, for a great adventure. Until next time!

Tiles, domes, and calligraphy

One of the best things about being a history teacher in a city like Istanbul is experiencing historical remains that are centuries old. Mosques hundreds of years old cover every inch of the city, echoing the adhan, or call to prayer five times a day. Nearby rest equally old churches and synagogues, some who at one point had functioned as a mosque. The crumbling, yet well preserved city walls stand between office spaces. And well-maintained Roman aqueducts receive hundreds of tourists daily.

Two of the first mosques we saw were the New Mosque and Suleymaniye Mosque, located near the Golden Horn in Eminonu, and both constructed by famed Ottoman architect, Sinan, whose tomb rests near Suleymaniye.

The New Mosque with Suleymaniye Mosque in the background.
Both masjids, or camii, as they're called in Turkish, open with beautiful courtyards. After you take in the domes and minarets, your eyes are drawn to the center, which feature still functioning wudhu or ablution fountains. At the entrance, security personnel make sure both women and men are appropriately covered (sorry, no shorts, guys!) before entering. Guests are provided with coverups and a plastic bag for shoes. The breathtaking interiors feature gorgeous tile work, stained glass windows, and giant circular disks with the names of the first four caliphs, Muhammad's (pbuh) grandsons, and of course Muhammad and Allah (swt) as well.

Outside the New Mosque.

From left to right, Hassan and Hussain, the grandsons of Muhammad (pbuh).

Outside Suleymaniye Mosque (a bit of a trek with only graffiti and a peanut vendor to guide you!)

Inside Suleymaniye.

Next we got to see my favorite, the Blue Mosque. I'm not even sure where to begin with this one. I probably took the most photographs of this one because it seems to get more and more beautiful from different angles and different times of day. I was able to make nafl, or optional, prayer inside, something that felt kind of surreal. Outside, you can see the Hagia Sophia, which is equally impressive from the outside. I was dying to see this more than anything else on the trip.

Since this is an incredible amalgamation of Roman and Muslim architecture, I wasn't sure where to look at every turn - beautiful tile work, remnants of Christian mosaics, intricately decorated barrel vaults, and of course, Viking graffiti. I mean, how do you take in a 1,500 year old building? I was hoping to see the famed cat of the Hagia Sophia, but no such luck. But again, it was crazy crowded.

View of the Hagia Sophia and Blue Mosque from Galata Tower.

The Blue Mosque at night.

We probably spent the most time at Topkapki Palace for its sheer size alone. For those of y'all that are unfamiliar with its history, this served as the seat of Ottoman political power for centuries. After "rushing" through it in about an hour and a half, I came to one conclusion, and one conclusion alone - being rich makes people do bizarre things. We weren't able to take pictures of most of the cool stuff, like the sultans' clothing, the royal crib, and the countless relics that are slightly suspect at best (I can buy Muhammad's (pbuh) footprints and sword, but his beard? And Moses' staff? David's sword was pretty cool, but Abraham's cooking pot wasn't much to boast about). But seriously, the sultans got an entire room to lounge around in while they stared at tulips, reflecting on a night of "worldly pleasures". There's even a whole room dedicated for a ceremony to celebrate a new prince's circumcision. Rich people be cray.

One of four courtyards in the palace. Four?!

One of the more interesting parts of the palace was viewing the Harem. I feel like as Westerners we conjure images of scantily clad women, somewhat resembling Princess Jasmine in the red getup Jafar made her wear, in a perpetual pleasure house, if you will. But really, it was simply a place to house and protect women that were important to the sultan, like his mother, wives, sisters, daughters, and of course, concubines. It's where they lived, mingled, and advised the sultan when he needed their guidance. This was way bigger than I thought it would be; almost like a small village. The Harem included apartments for each woman, a courtyard for them to mingle, and various rooms for leisure.

Inside a room in the Harem.

Next up - our Bosporus cruise, churches, and dervishes.

It's Istanbul, not Constantinople

So my Nook and phone failed me in my many attempts to document my five day trip to the beautiful city of Istanbul, Turkey. Instead, I'll be writing up three separate entries to sum up my travels. I should be putting my sleep-deprived and jet lagged self to my own bed for the first time in seven nights, but I'm am clicking away at the keyboard instead.

The thing with Istanbul is that you are hit with sensory overload almost immediately. You can't escape the sight of brightly colored lamps glinting in store windows, the pungent body odor of weary and woefully ignorant Turkish tourists, the beautifully soft touch of cashmere pashminas lining store shelves, and the fresh aroma of lamb kabobs grilled right on the street that make you drool on the spot. It really doesn't take long for Istanbul to hit you on all sides once you leave Ataturk International.

Within a few hours, I quickly made note of a few things.

First - Eid weekend brings out thousands upon millions of tourists from across Turkey, so things like personal space and my no-touching policy were going to have to go out the door. This wasn't hard to adjust to because I've been to Pakistan on numerous occasions and survived. Second - not everyone speaks English. I know, this probably makes me sound like an arrogant American, and I wasn't exactly expecting the Turks to roll out red carpets everywhere we went, fawning over our "American-ness", but I thought it would've been easier to communicate with the locals. Instead, I had to resort to various forms of miming, and attempting words in Urdu and Arabic, hoping something would stick (which they didn't). Third - the vendors will attempt anything to drag you into their stores to buy their wares, hoping to dupe foreign tourists into grossly overpaying for something. The sellers and merchandise even attempt to capitalize on generalizations made by foreigners, like the common use of the whirling dervishes as a motif or by dressing in "cute and adorable" folksy Turkish clothing that most Turks would find revolting. The most common attempt is to sucker you into what may seem to be an innocent and harmless conversation. No sir, I don't need a rug. I'm not sure how you expect me to transport this thing home. And calling me beautiful lady that's breaking your heart doesn't change anything.

Fourth - The city is very clean. This must be due to the fact that every corner seems to have a designated trash picker. There are even organized piles for litter so that people who'd prefer to toss their water bottles onto the street can have their cake and eat it too. And lastly - there is a ridiculous stray cat situation. I'm talking cats on top of cats, hidden in every nook and cranny of the city. I'm pretty sure I accidentally pet a dead kitten.

Tables sagging from the weight of bras.

Interested in reenacting the Crusades? Try a friendly game of chess.

Apple tea. Perfect for when you come home sick from your first time in Turkey.

Coming soon - my attempt at putting the beauty and majesty of Byzantine and Ottoman architecture into words.