Linda's Travels Through Turkey, Oct. 2011 - Beginnings

The Journey Begins

My flight to Turkey didn’t leave until 6:40pm on September 26, 2011 so I was able to take my time that Monday and look after last minute details. I have a steadfast rule that whenever I travel, I always leave my apartment spotless and looking its best because inevitably, when I return home I am tired and walking into this wonderful place always fills my heart.  It is like seeing it for the first time.

My apartment had had a series of spa treatments all week and so I was just giving it a final look-over to ensure I hadn’t missed anything.  Around 4:00 I was almost ready to leave.  I was just sweeping up, using the dust bin and as I bent down to get every last speck of dust, I inadvertently shifted the handle and heard a crash.   I had knocked over a picture of one of the goddesses, which, I don’t know, Hestia I think.  It also could have been Vesta or Hera even.  They are very different archetypes so I wished I knew which.   It was a picture I had printed off the net years before for a ritual.  Whoever she was, she hit the floor with a sound like a baseball crashing into a window and there was glass everywhere. I thought, you’re kidding me right?  Just before I leave?  Come on Universe.  Your timing stinks. I had no time to wallow in frustration so I sucked it up, swept it up and vacuumed up.  As I was taking apart the frame, I found another piece of glass the exact size of the frame behind the picture holding the image in place!  I quickly put in front, shoved everything else back in, put her back on her pedestal and left minutes after, wondering, what the heck was that about?

And why had it happened  at the onset of my trip.  If it was an omen, what was it pointing to?  Hestia has to do with the hearth and home, Hera about loyalty, commitment and marriage and Vesta about the being true to yourself and owned by no one.  So I was either going to get hooked up, have to put my ducks up, or have my nest shaken up.  And yet, at the same time it seemed that I would be protected.  After all, there was a new piece of glass right there behind the photo.  So maybe this trip was going to be an eye opener and I was going to see things more clearly by the end of it.  Well, I thought, que sera, sera.  What will be will be.  

I was still pondering that when  I arrived at the airport and went to check in at United Airways.  They were to bring me to Chicago and then I was to connect to Turkish Airways an hour and a bit after.  At least that was the plan.  My flight was delayed two hours due to bad weather in Chicago.  Bad weather in September, I thought?  Give me a break.  I knew and they knew I would miss my connection and before they even started to give me a song and dance, I very firmly said, “You have to find me an alternate route because I need to be in Turkey tomorrow.  And I know you can find a way for that to happen.”  And they did. There was a bit of an issue because I was flying on points but eventually it all got sorted out and I flew Lufthansa to Frankfurt overnight and then into Istanbul the next day.  I landed much later than I was scheduled to, but I was there and so was the hotel shuttle.  All is well that ends well I thought on the way to the hotel, but I was starting to get a feeling this trip was going to be interesting in ways I hadn’t expected. 

My hotel was great.  It was two blocks from Aya Sofia and the Blue Mosque.  I was on a very busy street and felt very safe walking everywhere though I didn’t do it that night.  I checked in, was ok with my room.  I wasn’t sure it rated $275.00 a night, but location was everything.  I unpacked and then walked up to the roof garden.  It was after 7:00pm and the sun had just set. It was magical.

I could see the lights of Aya Sofia and the Blue Mosque and I had a wonderful view of the ocean, sprinkled with cruise ships lit up like Christmas trees and smaller yachts and fishing boats.  I walked down to the restaurant below and convinced them to allow me to eat dinner on the roof. After a lovely meal of calamari I went back to my room, opened the windows and crawled into a clean comfortable bed.  I was a very happy camper and when I woke briefly for a minute or two at 5:30 am when I heard the call to prayer, I knew I had made the right decision to come to Turkey.

The next two days were a whirlwind of activities.  I walked to the spice bazaar the first morning and did more sniffing of essential oils interspersed with coffee grounds than my dog used to do in a week of walks.   After passing ten or eleven shops I entered one whose oils I thought were of a good quality.  They had a nice clean aroma.  And the owner had a delicious smile.  I blew $300.00 there and then hurried back to my hotel to meet the tour bus for a ride on the Bosphorus Sea.  I jumped on and was asked for payment.  I thought I had paid when I signed up the night before, but obviously not.  The cost was $35.00 Euros.  Somehow, I thought it was in Turkish liras.  I didn’t have enough cash on me and had to run back into my hotel room and go into my private hidden stash.  I held everyone up about ten minutes and walked the walk of shame when I got back in the bus.  I apologized to everyone but all I got back was a “hmm”.  Oh well, another lesson in humility I thought.  Off we went to pick up other people and finally we arrived at our ferry.  Somehow I had this vision in my head of stepping back in time as the ship sashayed around the Golden Horn.  I was picturing Sultans and princes on horses decked with gem studded saddles.  Instead I got three hundred tourists from every corner of the world and a loudspeaker whose pitch matched the sea, sometimes very loud and other times barely more than a whisper.  Maybe I was tired, but I was quite happy to get off the boat five hours later. 

The second day I sauntered down to the Blue Mosque just in time for prayers.  I had brought a long brown skirt , a long sleeved sweater and a scarf to cover my head, and while the tourist entrance was closed,  I was able to enter through another entrance with other women wearing burkas and head covering.   I sat on the floor with the other women who glanced over to me suspiciously.  I thought I fit in but obviously not.  Then I noticed that as other women arrived, they sat on their ankles and then prostrated themselves.  Well, it was too late for me to do that, so I just tried to sit quietly.  But I kept shifting around trying to get comfortable.  I felt like a hyper child being restrained.  I noticed that the women came and went, and I also spotted an eight or ten inch ledge at the back and tried to unobtrusively move to it.  With a few unfriendly looks accompanying me, I managed to reach my goal and sit down. What a difference.  I settled in nicely, shut my eyes and soaked in the inflections and pitch of the words as they left the mouths of the devout.  I didn’t understand a thing, but the sound of devotion was palpable.  Devotion is devotion.  It doesn’t matter if you are in a synagogue, a mosque or a church, it is all the same.   I spent an hour or so there and then just wandered around  soaking up the atmosphere.  Then I slowly sauntered back to my hotel.  It may have been the way I was dressed but people seemed to mistake me for a Turk because as I entered a shop here and there I was greeted in Turkish.  It was a surprise.  I think it was the skirt.  Most tourists were either in jeans, shorts or knee length skirts.  I seemed to be the exception.  Whatever the reason, I loved it.