At first I thought that going to Turkey from Greece would be
like rewinding time back to Morocco. Greece is probably 20 years behind the
United States, more or less depending on if you are in a village or a city.
Morocco was like going back in time 80 years ago, and squatting to pee or poop
in every toilet was definitely new and exciting. Turkey, however, is a mixed
bag of magic – you never know what the magician will pull out, but you know it
will awe you.
Istanbul was very Muslim (like most of Turkey), and at
first I enjoyed hearing the prayer call 5 times a day, because it reminds me of
devotion, loyalty, spirituality, obedience, and all of those beautiful things
that go along with deeply spiritual or religious people. The prayer call is a
beautiful singing of the Quran into intercoms, and it can be heard from far
away. At 5am when the sun comes up, and during my naptime were the only times I
did not enjoy it.
While there, I had the privilege of visiting the Hagia Sofia
during the call for prayer. The Agia Sophia was once a Byzantine church. Its
style is dome-shaped (Byzantine style) and it was once adorned with frescos and
mosaics of saints. When the Muslims came to power, eventually turning
Constantinople/Byzantium, into Istanbul, they destroyed most of Christian
artifacts and places of worship, and converted the Greek Agia Sophia into a
mosque – it’s now the Turkish Hagia Sofia (pronounced with a hard H). It was
for this reason that I felt uncomfortable, and unhappy when I visited the
ancient church – or what was left of it. Although the Virgin Mary remains above
where the altar once was, there are Islamic sayings on either side looking like
big black billboards. The church/mosque is very poorly preserved as well - and
ancient. From what I understand, it’s highly unusual for any kind of religious
service to be held in the Hagia Sofia these days. Don’t get me wrong, I have
been in synagogues turned into churches and churches turned into mosques, then
back into synagogues and so on – I had always found them more intriguing than sad.
Those places of worship were quite beautiful and their history was powerful.
The Hagia Sofia, for me, was just sad – interesting, but not beautiful. There
was no powerful positive message in
her history or her modern use, only destruction and emptiness.
After leaving, I stood outside facing the Blue Mosque that
stands across a large park opposite of the Hagia Sofia. I felt blessed when the
call to prayer rang out, and I listened for a little while. After the call
was sung from Hagia Sofia, it stopped and the singing began from the Blue
Mosque, and then it stopped and the Hagia Sofia sang again – back and forth,
back and forth. It was the battle of the prayer calls, and it was beautiful. I
wish I could understand what was being said. These days I tend to rely on body
language and tones in order to understand people – it works pretty well, but
not for readings of the Quran.
One of the reasons my dad and I were so excited to be
visiting Turkey - aside from being in an unknown land and unknown culture - was
because it was the closest either of us have ever been to our ancestral lands
of Lebanon and Syria. In fact, we had the great pleasure of having a fully
Lebanese night while we were in Istanbul. We went to a dinner show where attractive
and talented male and female belly dancers performed, and they served courses of
traditional Lebanese food. Some of it was different than the way that we prepare
our food, and do our dances – but it was Lebanese with a Turkish twist.
One of the funny adventures that we had in Istanbul included
stalking the Patriarch of Constantinople so that we could receive his blessing.
After learning that it was unlikely for us to be granted an audience, we went
to the island of Hulki to visit the old Orthodox seminary there, and we also
made a pilgrimage to the Patriarchal Fenar where we stayed for an evening
service. Unfortunately, we kept missing the Patriarch just as he was leaving. (In case you didn't know there are few Patriarchal leaders of the Orthodox church in the world, and meeting them is like meeting the Pope.) In our undercover hunt we became quite familiar with the back of his Mercedes and its blacked out
windows. We did get to see him briefly as he left Hulki to return to
Istanbul from his short vacation there. My dad and I were standing behind the
church at the seminary when we heard that the Patriarch was leaving, so we ran
to the front of the church where the exit road was. I did everything short of
yelling “tin efhisas! Your blessing!”
as I ran to where his entourage waited. He turned and waved, and then he was
off. Seeing him in the flesh was just as cool as anything. I hope that some day
my dad receives his blessing though, because I know that’s a desire of his
heart.
After nearly a week of walking around Istanbul, getting used
to eating Kebab for every meal, stalking the Patriarch, and bargaining at the
Grand Bazaar - we were more than ready
to move on to Cappadocia! - the land where dreams come true.
It was like a fairly tale in Cappadocia. The people were
warm, helpful, friendly, and always interesting to learn from – and the terrain
was nothing like I had ever seen before. It was the Grand Canyon and the Sahara
Desert in one package. Cappadocia (or Kapadokya
in Turkish) looked like sand piles molded into different shapes, but when
closer, it is unexpectedly hard rock. No wonder people live in caves here -
thanks to the chemicals from the volcanic lava that originally made the valley
thousands of years ago, its warm in the winter and cold in the summer.
We woke up our first morning, at 4:30am so that my dad could
conquer his fear of heights by watching the sunrise from a hot air balloon! We
floated up gently, while befriending the master driver, and laughing the whole
way. Laughter is the best way to cope!
Cappadocia is the world capital for hot
air balloons. We saw the skies filled with balloons, near and far, with
different colors or logos. It was something I had never seen before – and
unless I woke up at 5:30am and drove around the mountain that blocked the view
from our hotel, I would probably not see it again.
After an exilerating ride, we had glasses of champagne to
celebrate a successful landing, following by a brief nap before moving on to
explore the valley.
In Cappadocia, many people live in caves, and have been
living in caves since before the time of Christ. In the cave villages we
explored churches from the Byzantine times – most of which are now preserved in
open-air museums. In the churches were fresco (paint on plastered walls) and
secco (paint directly on walls). The paintings appeared like cave drawings, and
many of the icons that remained had eyes scraped off from when Islam took over
the region. The icons made at that time, and even now, have eyes that appear to
be following you in the room. They see everywhere. The Muslims did not like
this component of Byzantine art, so during the time when Christianity was
banned, the extreme Muslims scraped off the eyes of the saints. Interestingly
enough, in all of the churches I went to, the eyes of Jesus and the Virgin Mary
still remained.
Remember how I said that the only way I would see the hot
air balloons again would be if I woke up at 5:30am and drove around the
mountain that blocks the view from my hotel? Well, the day before leaving
Cappadocia, my dad and I woke up early to go hiking, so that we could see the
hot air balloons and the sun rising one last time before we left. I hiked to the
top of a panoramic viewpoint where I faced the hot air balloons in front of me,
and the sun rose from behind. Just before the sun came up, all of the hot air
balloons glowed from the light of their fire, and lit the sky like 100 bright
stars blinking. The sun came from behind Euclydes volcano 60km away in Kayseri,
and slowly, but surely, touched every inch of the rocky volcanic terrain of the
valley.
Our last day in the Cappadocia region was spent in Kayseri,
Turkey. Kayseri was the birthplace of Saint Basil the Great during the time of
Assyria. However, there were no remains, relics, or religious sanctuaries to
pilgrim to. The city was highly developed, but quite obviously a more
conservative section of the country, and the only place in Turkey where the
vibe made us feel unwelcomed. That same day, we flew from Kayseri to Izmir,
where locals told us that Kayseri was quite conservative and their least
favorite city in Turkey. Izmir was the opposite. It was less touristic than
Istanbul, better developed (similar to cities in Europe and the U.S.) and
highly secular. And to put the cherry on top, the seafood was the best that I
had eaten (outside of Greece and Norway). There we walked the bazaar, and sat
for hours drinking Turkish coffee, smoking nargile
(Turkish waterpipe) and playing toula
(backgammon).
From Izmir, we drove to the ancient ruins of Ephesus, and
walked about the marble town through Byzantine ruins and memorial sites, until
we grew wet and tired from the rain.
Not far from Ephesus was where we were staying - through the mountains to a secluded
ancient Greek village called Širençe (pronounced shee-ren-jay). Širençe is
known for their local fruit wines. The entire town shut downs at 8pm - its the village life. After Ephesus, before
we were too late, we walked to a wine shop. We drank flights (tastings) of fruit
wine from mulberry, cherry, and raspberry, to apple, blackcurrant, and
blueberry - until finally we settled on our old friend Cabernet Sauvignon.
Since
we traveled during the off-season, the village was essentially deserted.
Restaurants would only stay open if people were eating in them, and the last to
close was one out of dozens of wine shops. A 9pm bedtime, and plenty of
rest-time was perfect after a very busy couple of months, so my dad and I
enjoyed relaxing by the fireplace and playing board games.
Back in Izmir, I learned about Pamukkale/Heiropoulos, which
is a UNESCO World Heritage Site near Denzli, Turkey. About a 3 hour drive from where we were stayig. The ancient Greek ruins of
Heiropoulos remain from a city built on top of a travertine covered mountain.
The combination of sulfur from the hot springs there, and the surrounding
environment, caused the mountain to be pure white travertine. In order to
preserve the travertine, shoes are not allowed on the white walking path that
connects all of the hot spring baths. So on our free day, we drove there and, in cold wet rain, we hiked up the
mountain with shoes in hand, and relieved ourselves from the cold every time we
reached hot water – which wasn’t frequent! It was a challenge! During the
summer busy season, the baths are overflowing, and the weather is hot – but
during the winter many of the baths were cold, and dried out. It wasn’t until
we reached the top that we relaxed our feet in Jacuzzi-hot fresh water. By
then, we desperately wanted to dry off and put on wool socks.
On top of the mountain are the ruins of Heiropoulos, where
Saint Phillip once resided. There we paid homage to the first burial place of
St. Phillip (coincidentally we were there on the day that he was celebrated in
the church), and we walked around the ruins of the original Apollo Theatre (so
it was another Friday at the Apollo). Nearby, we hiked hills and saw beautiful
views overlooking Denzli and Pamukkale, until finally it was time to kick off
our socks and sneakers and head back down the mountain for one last night in Širençe.
Since our flight was out of Izmir, my dad and I returned to
Izmir for our last night together in Turkey. The party continued when on from
Izmir to the Istanbul airport until finally my dad and I shared our tearful
goodbye.
After that, it was an enjoyable 8 hours (but then delayed to) 13 hours in the
airport before flying to Kathmandu, Nepal.
I am so proud of my dad for overcoming his fears, and being
open to new things during our trip. I became well traveled in the last three
months of Europe, so he began to look to me for answers to travel questions. It
made me feel smart and special for being trusted (at times), and for knowing
what I’m talking about (at times). It was the most amazing experience to share
all of this time with my dad. The last month was the most time we ever spent
together in my life and I had him all to myself! He has come so far as a father
and a person, and I basked in his loving moments, and we were able to grow
together during our occasional conflicts. I left from him feeling
extraordinarily grateful and blessed for our experience together. I already
miss having a partner who shares love and trust with me. Inshallah we will do
it all again some day soon.
Cheers.
