Religious Immersion

This blog has become rather laughably behind my actual travels, but blogging while on the road is quite difficult (since I’m doing things during the day) and so I’m going to just keep plowing through! This blog post covers the city of Konya, which we visited after Cappadocia.

We got into Konya in late afternoon and made our way by tram (the city has an incredible tramway system – so fast, efficient, and easy to use) to the downtown. We had found a couchsurfing host in Konya and we realized that our maps weren’t giving us a location. We stopped in Alaadin Tepesi, a nice green park in the centre of Konya to chill out and call Mustafa, our host.  We had to wait a bit for him to pick up, but it was a nice place to relax. When Mustafa finally picked up, he directed us further downtown towards the Mevlâna Museum, which is essentially the heart of the city.

Konya is an incredibly conservative and religious city, and my Lonely Planet describes it as being the Turkish equivalent to the Bible-belt in the States. This was, however, some of the appeal of visiting the city in the first place, for the fascinating religious sites.

Dark skies as we arrived in Konya - and lots of mosques.

The Selimiye Mosque, right in the heart of the downtown, beside Mevlana's Tomb, which you can see as the turquoise fluted dome.

 We finally found our way to Mustafa’s place, which was actually the café he runs, called Hiç Hane. The location was perfect, being just a few hundred metres from the Mevlâna Museum. And the café itself was an incredible place. It was mostly dark, with dim lights above the tables with sheet music as lampshades. There was a stage, lit with red light, where there were a few traditional Turkish instruments waiting to be played. The roof seemed to just be a tarp, but even when it was pouring rain everything stayed nice and dry and a comfortable temperature. There was interesting artwork on the walls and a tree growing up from the middle of the floor up through the ceiling. There was a large open area in front of the stage, where Mustafa told us there were sometimes whirling dervish performances – he himself danced and taught the whirling dervish spinning. A whirling dervish is someone who participates in  the old religious tradition of performing the sema, a ritual practice in which the dervishes spin continuously to find union with God. It was created in Konya after the death of Rumi – the Mevlâna – as a codification of the spontaneous spinning Rumi sometimes engaged in. Seeing the dervishes is one of the main reasons we came to Konya. But anyway, more on that later.

Kids playing outside, behind Mustafa's cafe.

The upper floor of the cafe, looking down. You can see the stage in the top left corner.

The Hiç Hane stage, lit up nicely.

 Çağatay, a server who worked at the café served us çay, and we just relaxed for a bit. There was a young girl hanging around, whose name we learned was Mariam (I am guessing on the exact pronunciation and spelling, but I think that’s what it was). Mariam would soon become our best friend in Konya. Mariam’s mother, whose name I never quite caught, we soon learned was an employee at Hiç Hane also

We went for dinner at a nearby restaurant, and then returned to the café. Mustafa told us he’d bring us back to his home to sleep, so we had to wait a while for the café to close up. It wasn’t too bad – we got the wifi password and were able to do some planning, and we Mariam proved to be a precocious and outgoing four-year-old, who was a lot of fun to play with despite the language barriers. One of the things I love about kids is that they are have no inhibitions about language. Mariam was well aware that we had very, very little Turkish, and that she had virtually no English, but that didn’t stop her from chatting away with us and often expecting a response. I get the impression that both her mother and Çağatay had better English than they would use, but were perhaps lacking the confidence to try. I noticed this, too, among students at METU using English – they were almost embarrassed to try in front of a native speaker. And the same can be said for my Turkish – sometimes I’m just too shy. But it’s not the same for kids, and that makes things a lot more fun.

Mevlana's tomb lit up at night. I really am obsessed by the turquoise dome - I think it's beautiful and you're going to see a lot of photos of it.

 Eventually, they closed up the café and it was time to head off. We went outside and found ourselves being ushered into a camper van. It was somewhere around this time that we realized that everyone we were with all lived together – Mustafa, Çağatay, Mariam and her mother. They seemed to be a ragtag group of friends, especially for Turkey and even more especially for Konya, seeing as it is so conservative. Mariam’s mother appeared to be a single mother and Mariam’s father did not seem to be in the picture. Mustafa told us he had a son, but the son didn’t seem to live with him. Çağatay was significantly younger than the other two (closer in age to Jess and I), but we had no idea of his story. Anyway, we were off, rattling around in the back seat of the camper, again chatting away with Mariam and wondering what exactly was happening. Not to say that we were uncomfortable or scared or unsafe (beyond the constant unsafe feeling of driving in Turkey, but that’s besides the point) – our hosts gave off a very nice vibe and seemed to be wholly genuine and unthreatening.

“Canadians!” came Mustafa’s voice booming from the front of the camper. “Do you want to drink some wine?” We were tired from a half day in Cappadocia and then the bus travel to Konya, but it wasn’t yet too late, so we consented. A few minutes later, we received another update – “I got a call from my friend, he’s having a barbecue, and he has invited us all, I hope that is ok”. We shrugged – why not? It was already proving to be an interesting evening.

We finally stopped at on a backstreet off in some corner of Konya, where we got out in front of what looked like an abandoned storefront. All the other stores along the street had those metal garage-door-like covers pulled down. Ours was open, and a light was on, but there was nothing in the windows. In front of the storefront was a barbecue with chicken roasting away, and a group of men sitting around and chatting.

We were introduced to everyone there, and they were all so friendly – we learned that they were all sculptures and artists of one sort or another, and many of them worked with Mustafa in selling their art. This also explained the location – the ‘store’ was actually the workspace for one of the sculptors – we toured around it a bit, and between the plaster dust, and broken statues and empty çay glasses were thousands – if not millions, seriously – of plaster sculptors. Many were of whirling dervishes – THE statue that fills every souvenir shop in Konya. Interesting to know that they aren’t all made in China, anyway!

Plaster dervishes!

A dervish mold.

Jess and Mariam being cuties exploring the warehouse.

A dervish standing stoically on the other side of warehouse mess.

The work room.

 The barbecue chicken was outright delicious, simple and tasty. We were also served beer and wine. And while we usually had no idea what was going on in the conversation, it was fun to be there.

But we were still exhausted, and getting more and more. When we finally packed up the barbecue and loaded back into the camper, we were grateful to be heading to bed.

Unfortunately, that wasn’t everyone else’s plan. We soon realized that everyone at the barbecue had also come home to Mustafa’s. Mustafa’s place – again, shared with his friends – would perhaps be best described as a hippy house. There was cool art and instruments on the walls, and lots of area to sit on the floor. Everyone crowded inside and sat on the floor, drinking wine and chatting. Meanwhile we were fading fast but tried to keep up with social etiquette by sitting with everyone. We hadn’t been told where we’d sleep or given any other directions. Mustafa himself seemed to disappear for a bit, I guess outside to talk on the phone or have a smoke.

Finally, Çağatay seemed to take pity on Jess and finally someone told us where we could sleep. Either we could have the couch in the main room, where everyone was still awake, chatting and drinking, or we could have Çağatay’s single bed. His room was actually disastrously messy – and those who have seen my own room will know that when I say it, it must REALLY be messy – but we opted for it anyway, since it was a private room away from the noise.

It was a fitful night. Our hosts stayed up late, and at one point Mariam woke up crying. Luckily, we didn’t have much to do the next day and we didn’t feel guilty about sleeping in. Nor about the late start we had as we waited for our hosts. Mustafa’s house was QUITE a ways from the downtown, so we had to wait for everyone to get ready before we could crowd back into the caravan and take it back downtown.

In the morning, waiting to head back downtown, Mariam asked Jess to paint her face. Adorable!

 When we got back to the café, we all had breakfast together. It was actually so nice, and the food was good, and even though there was still a major language barrier between many of us, at least we were breaking bread together and enjoying each other’s company. Here, I also discovered rose jam. I can’t believe I had been in Turkey this long and not had rose jam. It’s just rose flavoured jam but WOW I THINK IT’S DELICIOUS. This breakfast spurred a passion for rose-flavoured foods since then.

After our meal (sometime after midday) we finally headed out into the city, and walked to the nearby Mevlâna’s Tomb and Museum. Mevlâna is the religious name for Rumi, a poet and religious philosopher from the 13^th century. He is associated with Sufism, and is known especially for tolerance in his teachings.

Mevlana's Tomb.

That lovely turquoise dome.

 The tradition of the whirling dervishes – known officially as the Mevlevi – was inspired by the philosophy, teachings, and practice of Rumi after his death, and the Museum was once a dervish lodge (where the whirling dervishes lived and trained and worshiped). The Museum had a number of Mevlevi relics, including many of the possessions of Rumi himself. Some of the rooms were set up to replicate as they would have looked at the time, allowing visitors to get a sense of how the Mevlevi would have lived. The kitchen building was perhaps the most interesting, showing the practice boards of the whirling dervishes, and showing/describing the process of a new devotee joining the lodge.

Then we went into the tomb itself. It was strange building, with a strange vibe because on one hand it is officially a museum and there are items in cases with descriptions, etc., and people chatting quietly as they sometimes do in museums – but since there were so many people crowded there it combined to make a general commotion that wasn’t all that quiet. And then on the other hand was the fact that this place still very much has religious meaning and importance to a lot of Muslims as it’s the place where the Mevlâna’s body lies – a site of pilgrimage. So a lot of people were praying and chanting around the tomb itself, but other people were just pushing forward to get photos and there were security guards asking everyone to just keep moving. I expected the tomb to be a quiet place of reverence, but that’s not really what I experienced. I acknowledge also that the prayer methods of Muslims – and specifically Sufis or their descendants – are different from those that I’m familiar with, but the experience gave me a lot to think about and process in terms of what some people consider to be an important religious experience for their selves. It was not what I expected but I feel like, after some long reflection, I will be able to say I learned something there.

The tomb from the gardens.

Mannequins showing dervish teachers and students. In the foreground, you can see the board used to practice spinning.

Dervish mannequins in the Mevlana Museum.

 The building itself was absolutely beautiful, especially Rumi’s tomb. It was big and ornate, surrounded by the tombs of his friends and followers, and the walls and ceiling were even more ornate. There were some other religious relics in the building, such as a miniscule Qu’ran that was so small it made the calligraphist blind, and some of the Prophet Muhammed’s beard. Again, there was much religious reverence, but not in a quiet and calm way. Anyway, it was all very interesting to look see.

The intricate art above Rumi's tomb, and the tomb itself down at the bottom. The turban size indicates the importance of the person buried there - Rumi's was of course the biggest in the room.

Tilework near Rumi's tomb.

The tomb, from outside.

 Afterwards we sat outside in the garden areas around the tomb and enjoyed the sun and warm weather in the grass. Here, Jess decided she was rather tired and wanted to take a break from sightseeing, and I embarked on a bit of at “mosque crawl”. Since Konya is known for its religious conservatism, why not explore that by seeing some of its best mosques. I checked out two mosques, the Aziziye Camii and the Sahib-i Ata Mosque complex, plus a historical madrasa – a school where the Qu’ran is taught – called the Sıraçalı Medresi. I really enjoyed the Aziziye Mosque – it was beautiful inside and out, and very calming. The Sahib-i Ata Mosque was much more simple and plain, but also much busier – and while I didn’t have enough time to see the attached museum in detail, I did get to see the intricate tiled interior, which was cool.

Outside of the Aziziye Camii.

Inside the Aziziye Camii.

I liked this door in the side of the Aziziye Camii.

Gate to the Sahib-i Ata Camii

Inside the Sahib-i Ata Camii.

Red brick and blue tiles of the Sahib-i Ata museum, a former dervish lodge.

The Sıraçalı Medresi. Along the back wall you can see the pretty blue tiles, many of which have fallen away. Then lighting of this picture doesn't quite capture their beauty, but isn't that true of a lot of pictures?

The outside of the Medresi.

When I met up again with Jess, we grabbed some dinner and then headed to the Mevlâna Cultural Centre – we were going to see the Mevlevi – whirling dervishes – perform live.

On the way to the cultural centre, we passed a monument to Konya's fighters who had died in the Turkish war of independence. It was a very pretty monument. 

Wooden columns of the war memorial.

The walkway in front of the war memorial - flags and cannons!

Every Saturday, the Mevlevi perform their ritual, the sema, for free for anyone who wants to watch. We grabbed a decent seat near the front and settled in, not knowing exactly what to expect.

There was spoken introduction, all in Turkish. We couldn’t understand of course, and it was hard to tell if what was being said was a story, a background on the ritual, or some part of the worship itself. It seemed to carry on for quite some while. But then finally the dervishes entered the arena.

The sema was fascinating. It was very ritualistic, with a lot of repetition, and sometimes I wondered how long a particular part of the show would continue. But at the same time, I was awed by the precision, the concentration, and of course the spinning. The entire ceremony does not involve spinning, but a good portion of it does. There was background music, almost haunting. The whirling itself was rather simple, in that each dervish simply spun around while moving in the larger circle around the arena. But in practice, this was quite an impressive feat. For an individual to spin, arms raised above their head, for so long, at a constant speed, while keeping the same pace as everyone else, was just mind-boggling to me. And when each dervish stopped they didn’t appear dizzy at all! They were able to immediately walk (backwards) in a straight line, and that was just so amazing to me.

The arena, before the ceremony.

The dervishes enter the arena. Their black cloaks symbolize their connection to the material world.

The dervishes in a line.

The dervishes kneeling. The "Master" of the ceremony is lit up.

The dervishes walk in a circle, bowing to the Master, 

After three circles, the dervishes drop their cloaks.

They begin spinning. The Master keeps his black cloak, and circles around the dervishes to ensure the ritual is being performed properly.

Dervishes spinning.

Whirling.

You can see the Master walking among the dervishes.

Spin.

Whirl.

Twirl.

Then the light went green.

Overall I found watching the ceremony humbling. This is a unique form of worship, and I had never seen anything like it before in my life. I won’t pretend that I fully understood every part of the ceremony, but I’m so glad I got to see it, and I think it will stick in my mind for quite a while.

After the ceremony, we headed back to Mustafa’s café. They served us fruit and nuts and çay (which was incredibly generous!) and we listened to a small live duo play acoustic 90s Turkish pop and traditional songs. It was a great atmosphere, though again we found ourselves outright exhausted at the end of the night!

Again, that turquoise fluted dome, which we passed at night on the way home - beautiful, as always.

In the cafe, listening to live music. Great ambiance.

Again, people came back to the house with us, but this time we just went to straight to bed – back into the close quarters of the single bed – since we had to get up early to catch our bus the next morning.

And so the next morning we arose early and headed out – Çağatay and some local kittens saw us off – and headed back to the bus station. Thus ended our time in Konya, and we headed off to Eğirdir, which would be nearly the opposite in experiences. I appreciated Konya, because I think it gave me a lot to think about in terms of Islamic traditions and practices, and I feel I learned a lot about the faith. Sure, Sufism is perhaps just one branch of the Islamic tradition, but it's an important one, and gaining insights into it have, I think, helped me understand Islam better. And that's just one of the many things I hoped to do in this country!

Kittens saying goodbye to us on behalf of Konya!

Real Time Update: Since I’m going to probably be behind for the rest of my travels, I’m going to make the Real Time Update a regular thing. I’m writing this from a family-owned pension in Sinop, up on the northern Black Sea coast of Turkey. We’re headed east now, along the coast – it’s incredibly beautiful!