View of Istanbul

300 degree view of Istanbul from the top of the Seven Hills Restaurant, where we ate breakfast (photography and image stitching courtesy of Paul Mallery)

Cloudy

There is a knock on the door. Jon is wondering if we are ready to leave. I jolt out of bed, turn around and squint trying to make out a Paula who was sleeping soundly. We are late. Only until we have crossed the outer corner of the Blue Mosque do I realize that it is cloudy. Maybe it will rain today, I think. Paula and I climb the seventy steps of the Seven Hills Hotel to join our group that is already in line. We are there to celebrate what I now know to be called Eid ul-Fitr or the festival after completing the month of fasting, Ramadan.

We eat a full Turkish breakfast: bread with sesame seeds, tomatoes, strong, salty cheese, pitted olives, some dry fruit, honey and salted yogurt. I carry my ‘Cok Seker’ Turk Kavesi—loosely translated as ‘a lot of sugar’ Turkish coffee—up some steps and gaze at what the hotel accurately calls “a spectacular and unique panorama, a rare one in the world.” From my spot on a terrace chair I am completely surrounded: left by the Blue Mosque, right by the Hagia Sofia, and straight onto the Bosporus Sea. It is a magnificent view for us all, but I am most ecstatic that for a few in our group—Xander, Kelli, and Carlos—this is their first Turkish breakfast since choosing to participate in Ramadan. We sit enjoying every pixel of our breath-taking scenery until Hugh notices drops of water covering my plate. We move underneath a terrace covering as a light Turkish shower envelopes the city. It is dream-like and I cannot help but feel as if a heavy burden has been lifted and carried across the sea.

We leave the city across the tramway to take a ferryboat to the Eyup Sultan Mosque. We are told it was built in honor of Eyup-el-Ensari, a standard-bearer and close friend of the Prophet Muhammad. It is hot after the clouds have dissipated and some of us fight with the heat and some with the people to squeeze our group in and out of the boat. We arrive and walk along a narrow street to get to the square. Venders are selling adorned prayer beads, decorated headscarves and pocket Qurans. I take out my scarf and tie it like a shower cap around my head.

The mosque is swarming with people and we struggle to push our way inside the outer gate. People are praying at a fence that lines the tomb of the standard-bearer; palms open, head bowed, and still, the people look like statues with adjustable lips. We crowd around the entrance to the musalla, take off our shoes and duck our heads to enter. I automatically head for the stairs since—here and with most non-tourist mosques—men and women are separated by a towering column that supports the surrounding balcony. I kneel behind the balcony’s stone railing and pier down at the scene: men placing their heads and feet between the lines of blue tulips that run across the red carpet, boys chasing their friends around columns, and all with a combination of whispers, yelps, mummers, laughter, and—weirdly enough—silence.

There is a tap on my shoulder as I turn to see Dr. Mallery motioned us to leave. We leave the mosque and wait for the ferryboat. As I watch Hugh sip some tea and hum to the faint song that I could hear from Paula’s ear buds, I can’t shake a feeling that I have forgotten something. I hurry to the apartment and empty my backpack searching for something that I am missing. Stricken with panic I reorganize my suitcase; I check the bathroom, scan my shoes, and even skim the pockets inside my shirts. A few hours pass and we leave for dinner. Before the lights are turned, I walk over to the sink and notice a small cut on my hand. I smile, bandage myself, and go to sleep.

The Day Before September in Istanbul

Today was a very relaxing day. First of all, I started the day off eating Top Ramen at midnight with Chelsey and Ashlee. Although it was just instant noodles, this was the first time I had Asian food in 2 weeks so it was delightful! (it would've been better if I had access to my chopsticks but we can't win them all I guess. haha)

For lunch, we went to the local store to get some groceries and made turkey sandwiches (eating turkey in Turkey, get it??). Unfortunately, some of the bread was molding so I just wrapped the turkey meat around some vegetables and cheese...yum! Later on in the afternoon, we went to the Islamic Art Museum. The museum was originally the mansion of a pasa, which is a Turkish military general. The building was an incredible sight to see. The structure itself was well worth the entrance fee of 10 Turkish Lira. There were many beautiful Islamic Artwork and carpets from around the 17th through 20th century. A few days ago when we all visited the carpet shop, Sali the shop owner showed us a carpet that was about 5 feet long. He told us on average, a carpet of that size can easily take 7 years to complete. If a 5 foot carpet takes 7 years to make, I cannot even fathom how much time a carpet this large would take!

This mural especially struck me. It was by far my favorite art work in the museum. Something about the blue color just captured my attention. I was staring at it for so long, the security guard came up to me and told me with a smile, "Sorry, not for sale."

After dinner, we went to MADO, our favorite dessert restaurant, to celebrate Dr. Paul Mallery's birthday! Overall another excellent day to add to my stay in Turkey.

-Peter

Modern Conveniences

Whenever I come home from Turkey there are always some modern conveniences I miss dearly. Yes, that's right, these are the modern conveniences of Turkish life that I don't have at home. We've adapted some of these into our life at home, but most are more difficult or impossible.

One of the conveniences I miss a lot is that Turkish apartments in Istanbul pretty much all have in-line hot water heaters. This means your water is heated immediately as it comes through the line, instead of sitting in a hot water heater. This method is more energy efficient and means you get hot water more quickly and without running a lot of water waiting for it to heat. One of our faculty colleagues, Dr. Motscheidler, installed an in-line hot water heater at her house but they found that they had to run a larger gas line to their home to make it work. It's more expensive to install but more efficient overall. Turkey has always had these in-line hot water heaters. When I was here in the 1980s gas wasn't piped into the apartments, so you had to buy gas in tanks to attach to the heater, but the system was the same. In the 80s there were gas trucks that went through the streets with the drivers yelling out that they had gas. You waved them up when you needed a tank and they would bring a new tank and take your old one, and you would pay them a small fee for the new gas tank. I'm glad not to have to be carting gas around, but still like the immediate hot water and efficiency of the Turkish system. This system really is not anywhere near widely used in the US, which is a bit sad, because it's great.

Another convenience I love here is electric water kettles. We bought one of these years ago for home, but they didn't really catch on in the US until recently. On 220V you can boil a liter or two of water in 30 seconds. Quick, efficient, and almost immediate for tea. This trip I also saw an electric tea maker, which I haven't seen here before. Turkish tea is prepared in two parts: the top pot is concentrated tea, and the bottom is hot water. Each person drinking the tea customizes the strength to his or her taste. Betul served us tea recently from an electric tea pot that was a bit like a percolator. The top part held the tea leaves and a small pot for the concentrated tea and the bottom heated water. Water was heated by electricity and then some of it was routed up into the top pot to brew the tea concentrate. I was impressed. We bought a stove top double teapot for home at a Turkish grocery in the late 1990s (kind of like a modern samovar), which we used until it started leaking, but the electric ones are very nice for serving large groups.

Throughout Europe and Turkey I also really appreciate the efficiency and availability of public transportation. One of the students recently made a joke about how we needed to bring one of those Glade air fresheners to hang up in trams on busy days (those armpit to face days), and this is indeed a drawback, but it's very easy to get wherever you want to go, even if you have to go there with the crowds. This is a bit of a contrast to Riverside transit, that routinely takes quite a while to get anywhere. Also, you can't beat commuting on a ferry across the Bosphorus.

Happy Ramazan Bayram

We are currently in the midst of a three day holiday. Aug 30 was both Zafer Bayram (Victory Day - celebration of the turning point in the Turkish War for Independence) and the first day of Ramazan Bayram (the holiday after Ramadan). Today and tomorrow are the last two days of the post-Ramadan holiday. This holiday is also sometimes called Sugar Holiday (since lots of people give each other sweets on these days), but I've been told by some of our Turkish friends that Sugar Holiday is the name used by the press (and probably by non-religious nationalists), but they (our particular friends) prefer to call it the Ramadan holiday.

During the holidays Turks go to visit friends and family, and public transportation is crowded. There are also lots of Turks strolling in the parks, eating ice cream, giving gifts to friends, and generally relaxing. The mosques have been particularly crowded as well.

We went to Eyup Mosque yesterday and it was mobbed. Getting into the inner courtyard is a press of bodies and a tight squeeze, but we made it. I will let one of the students tell you more about that (and if no one posts, I'll tell you all more about it). Eyup considered to be the most holy place in Istanbul because it is the burial place of the standard bearer of the Prophet Muhammad. There is both a mosque and a shrine there. Besides being a pilgrimage site, the mosque is noteworthy to me because it has the most expansive women's section of any mosque I've been in here. There is a balcony section above the main mosque floor but also two large rooms for women attached to the mosque and a bridge-gallery over the entrance to the outer courtyard. Women pray in the bridge, in both large rooms, and in the mosque balcony. We were there between prayer times, but there were still a lot of people praying in the mosque. Between prayer times women can be on the main floor of the mosque, but women who are praying will go to the women's section. Most of the women with the group went upstairs to sit with the women who were praying. Because the women generally care for the children who are too young to learn to pray, between prayer times there are always toddlers running around, women sitting and chatting, and in this particular mosque women reading scriptures in Arabic. This area also has a lot of stalls of booksellers selling religious literature in both Turkish and Arabic, and it's not unusual to find both men and women reading in the mosque or the shrine.

We love Istanbul!

Ramadan is officially over (congratulations fasting people!) so our whole group went to enjoy a delicious breakfast buffet at the Seven Hills Restaurant. We were able to choose from a variety of breads, cheeses, butters, vegetables, fresh fruit, dried fruit, juices, coffee, and tea. Didn’t need to eat lunch after THAT! We had a beautiful view of both the Ayasofya and the Blue Mosque--perfect opportunity to take a group picture! :) We were joined by Dr. Crane (welcome!) since he came in yesterday afternoon, and today is also Dr. Paul Mallery's birthday! (HAPPY BIRTHDAY DR. MALLERY! :))

Carpets and Kilims

Being invited by Turkish shop owners to enter into their carpet stores is an all too regular occurrence when maneuvering through the narrow cobblestone streets of Istanbul. When we had first arrived in Turkey the majority of us students were unaccustomed to the almost too friendly and forward manner of the Turkish owners and would shy away from making any sort of contact with them unless completely necessary. But after walking these streets of Sultanahmet and calling this place our own home for the past twelve days, the skittering of stray cats across the sidewalks, the smell of grilled corn, hazelnuts, and doner wafting through the air to trigger the growling of our stomachs, and even now the forward gestures and insistent invitations from shop owners to tarry a while to consider their wares all seem like a part of everyday life. Today, however, we are crossing the threshold and entering into one of the places that instinct has pleaded for us to avoid at all costs—a Turkish carpet shop.

Dr. Mallery had scheduled for our class to attend a lecture on carpet weaving at one of the local shops down one block from their apartment. We flocked into the store in Dr. Mallery’s steps like a herd of baby ducklings waddling after their mother into an unknown realm. Like little children at Toys R’ Us-- everything that met our gazes and we were able to reach, we touched. As we walked down the wooden spiral steps to another part of the store, I reached my hand out to run my fingers across one rug that looked particularly beautiful. The sensation that slid up my fingertips and through my limbs immediately triggered a memory in my mind from years ago when my grandmother had taken me to silk farm in China and I had run my fingers through strands of pure, unwoven white silk.

Once we reached the bottom of the stairwell, the owner led us into a large room where three rugs were arranged neatly into a semicircle on the wooden floor. The owner motioned for us to enter and take a seat around the room on the ornate rugs that were laid out on the floor. Lining every square inch of the walls, whether hanging, stacked, or rolled, where hundreds of the most colorful and uniquely patterned rugs I had ever laid my eyes upon. It was if we had all died simultaneously and entered into a Turkish merchants version of heaven. Moments after taking our seats and situating our legs in either a cross-legged or kneeling fashion (in order to avoid accidentally causing offense by pointing our bare feet towards our gracious host), a younger Turkish man began to quietly circle the room, taking orders for Apple and Chai tea. As the owner patiently waited for the orders to be taken, he paced the room and delved right into introductions as soon as his young assistant bustled out of the room to fill our orders. Although his Turkish accent was thick and heavier than the ones that we have become accustomed to being addressed with, his command of the English language was rather proficient, to say the least. But whatever he may have lacked in eloquence, he most assuredly made up for in gusto. His knowledge and command of the subject of carpets extends as far back as the first invention of the single and double knotting methods of carpet weaving and continues on, growing further in abundance with each and every day that he wakes in the morning.

He spoke with such animation that I found myself staring, captivated by the motions of his hands and arms that moved in such rapid and expressive ways as if using charades to help us to better understand the words and phrases that may have been lost in the thick folds of his strong Turkish accent. The light clinking of the delicate crystal teacups on their matching saucers interrupted my fascination with his impassioned lecture on Turkish carpets. And then came the aroma—that sweet, yet distinct scent that can only be found during the autumn and winter holidays in America—apple cider. After the tea had been distributed, the lecture on carpet weaving was now accompanied by the sound of the miniature spoons clinking against the sides of the teacups, almost as if he had secured his own personal crystal bell choir to play as the soundtrack to his performance. The musical number continued on and was added to when a loom was deposited into the front of the room and a middle-aged Turkish woman began to pluck at the silk strings, weaving not only the silk strands into the fabric of the carpet, but also harmonies to complement the crystal clinks and complete the musical score. The woman’s fingers moved deftly through the rows of taught silk strands, plucking each strand as if she were David serenading King Saul into a state of relaxation. In the midst of the musical score, our host continued to explain how each rug and carpet was much more than just a pattern that was invented out of pure creativity for arts sake. In fact, each piece, he informed us, told a story about its maker. If a death occurred in the family a darker edge to the carpet could be visibly seen. When a young girl fell in love, felt the frustrations and pressures of the world weighing on her shoulders, or for some reason was overcome with sadness, it can be read in her carpet. In a sense, each carpet is the diary of the given creator.

Three hours, a round of Turkish tea, and 15 carpets later, we finally bid our hearty host “farewell” and stood gingerly to our feet, taking care since the kneeling for three hours had slowed our circulation and made us uneasy on our footing. Then ensued the shaking of the hands, the exchange of words and “teşekkür ederim,” and then of course the standard invitation to come back again. With our last waves over the shoulder to our newfound friend who was standing jovially at the steps of his shop waving and grinning from ear to ear, we began to stroll leisurely down the street discussing amongst ourselves about when we all finally achieve our goals of becoming physicians, lawyers, and world reknown mathematicians, perhaps we will one day return and be able to buy for ourselves one of the silk masterpieces that had awed us with its craftsmanship and beauty.

Of Holy Days and Hungry Days

Out of all the previous Honors Trips to Turkey I believe that this class has the best deal out of all previous years, not only do we get to stay two weeks longer then any of the previous trips but two of those weeks fall into the Muslim Holy month of Ramadan. Ramadan is the 9th month of the Islamic lunar calendar and it is believed that it was during this month that the first verses of the Qur'an were revealed to the prophet Muhammad. It is a time of celebration, prayer, reading the word of Allah, and HUNGER. Between mourning prayer and sundown prayer Muslims fast in order to better understand the starvation of the poor and to practice patience.

I like to eat and the food here in Istanbul is extremely good however many of my classmates have decided to take it upon themselves to fast along with the rest of the Muslim world so I have now joined in the "festivities". So for the past 6 days I have been fasting during the day and having my breakfast at around 8:00 p.m. how ever I have not stopped drinking water, which is technically breaking the fast.

Turkey is one of the best Islamic nations to celebrate Ramadan (or Ramazan) of the many cultural activities. Iftar is the breaking of the fast and it is treated as a big party especially in Sultanahmet Square where there are countless food vendors, live musicians, shows, and parades. One of the more traditional forms of entertainment is a puppets show called Karagoz and Hacivat which involves brightly colors shadow puppets. Since it was in Turkish i really could not tell what was going on but the sheer amount of children sitting on their fathers shoulders meant it must have been something enjoyable for the younger ones.

Despite all of the festivities the reason for Ramadan is not forgotten and the spiritual message behind the fasting is still very evident. Friday was Laylat al Qadr which is one of the most Holy days of Ramadan. It was on this day that God revealed the first verses of His message to Muhammad. Friday is the Muslim day of worship and but the Masques were especially packed on this day and during the evening prayer a special reading of the Qur'an took place. I was lucky enough to be able to attend the reading at the Blue Masque and it was amazing. I would not make it into the Masque, or the inner square but had to stand on the outside due to the several thousand worshipers present who were listening to the message. The only word I could make out was Allah, God, and it was repeated over and over again and every time a verse was read a loud reply would come from the crowd which i can only guess would have been likened to an amen.

Into Moria...I mean the Basilica Cisterns

Journal Entry 66
My group assembled at a restaurant in Sultanahmet Square. We decided it would be a good idea to dine heartily before plunging ourselves into the depths that time had forgotten beneath the city. Our group consisted of four strong: Pokemon Master Hew, Cassiano the Conqueror, Jon the mighty, and myself. The entrance into Moria-I mean the Basilica Cisterns, was guarded by a gatekeeper. We may have been stopped at this point, but Carlos was able to persuade the gatekeeper to grant us passage with 40 lira. What we saw as we descended the dark stairs was truly amazing. A huge cavern with large stone pillars and about two feet of water was before us.


The cistern was built by emperor Justinian in the 6th century. Fish swam in the water, haunting music played, and dim lighting all added to the experience. To imagine that everything in the cavern was at one point completely submerged in water only added to its allure because it meant that it was all previously inaccessible. As we ventured deeper into the cistern, we came across a unique column that had tears carved into it. Some say that the tears represent the tears of the dead slaves who built the cistern. Two gorgons attacked us as we approached the far end of the cavern, but they were no match for us. We quickly decapitated them and placed one head sideways and the other upside down underneath pillars. The reasons for us doing this are unknown...


The time came for our group to make a hasty escape though since it appeared that we had awoken the Balrog. It was sad to have to leave such a beautiful place, but since no one really wanted to sacrifice themselves at the bridge for the rest of the group, we had no choice. I will look back fondly on my memories (and pictures) of this historical place and our journey into it.

Bosphorus ferry ride.

There's something about being on water that makes everything more enjoyable. The views are prettier, life is more peaceful, and even the breeze that whips through your hair feels better. We had the wonderful opportunity to ride a ferry around the Bosphorus this afternoon for around an hour and a half. (I actually saw a dolphin right as we were passing under one of the bridges! It was incredible! Wish I could have taken a picture.) The hillsides were dotted with unique houses and buildings surrounded by lush vegetation; the water exhibited different shades of blue while the waves gently rocked us back and forth. What a treat!






*This is the Asian side of Turkey. I want so badly to explore this area!



It's getting late, so I should probably take a shower and be off to bed soon. Happy sabbath from Istanbul!

Comments

I've gotten feedback from a few people that they are not able to post comments here. I just used an incognito browser window to post a comment as anonymous, though, and I was able to post without any problem, so I'm not sure what other people are running into. Can someone who is not an author on this page please try posting a comment under this entry? Thanks.

When we look at the blog page from Turkey we see Turkish labels for all of the links (sign in, etc), but I am pretty confident that's not the problem you are running into at home. I think it's just Blogspot checking our location and putting the links in the local language for our convenience. Once I sign into Google with my account I see everything in English, which is the language in my Google settings. When you post a comment you do need to select what account you are using to post. You can use an account from a variety of services, but if you run into problems, you don't need any account; just post as "Anonymous" and sign your name in the comment.

Sufi Dervish Ceremony

Nothing can dispel cultural ignorance better that direct experience. Tonight we went to a Sufi Dervish ceremony and witnessed first-hand the depth of their belief system. Truthfully I did not know what to expect. The Sufi building was not an imposing sight. It was tucked away behind some apartment buildings and was not fashioned like any of the religious buildings I have toured so far. Once I entered though, I realized that a dedicated congregation assembled inside. The walls were beautifully decorated, chairs were arranged just so along the walls, and worshippers were reverently solemn.



Listening to the sing-song chant of their prayers had an enchanting effect. I heard the rhythmic drums beating in tune with the forlorn Turkish flute. The music alone was enough to enrapture my imagination. And then came the whirling Dervish dancers. In full length robes, they majestically took the floor one steady rhythmic step at a time.



In truth I was completely overwhelmed by the performance these talented dancers gave. Each Dervish expressed ethereal fluidity of motion. Their long skirts rippled in the air effortlessly creating an explosion of movement and color.




Not only must each Dervish whirl continually but also be able to move across the room in time to the rhythm. Every pace of their feet is timed and intentional. The talent and training necessary to attain such mastery is astounding.

Throughout the ceremony, there was a distinct feeling of intense concentration. I felt the rush of moving air stirred by the Dervishes and heard the plaintive melody weave in amongst the dancers as if it were in control of their movement. Sufism is based on mystical properties pertaining to the Islamic faith. After tonight's experience, I feel much more informed as to their perception of God and worship. Taking the opportunity to travel and understand a foreign culture is truly a growing experience unattainable by any other means.

Sema

This evening we went to a Sufi Sema (whirling dervishes) with some of our Sufi friends here. This was somewhat unique in my experience because all of the other times I have been to mosques or to semas, prayers have generally been in Arabic. This time the Quranic recitations were in Arabic, but the rest of the prayers were in Turkish, so I could understand more. I tried to translate some of it for the students around me without causing a disruption, but was limited in what I could convey to them during a prayer. The community prayed for those recently departed, Muslim saints and holy individuals, peace in the world and at home, help to those who need it, peace and blessing on their nation, and blessings on everyone who came to the sema. I was touched by their inclusion of the visitors to the gathering in their prayers. We arrived home from the sema close to midnight, so I have time only for a quick update before retiring. Several of the students will fill all of you in more on what we saw and did, but I think all found it interesting and had lots of questions.

Tomorrow (Friday) night is Laylat al-Qadr, sometimes translated as the Night of Power or the Night of Blessing in Islam. Laylat al-Qadr is a commemoration of the giving of the Quran and is a night that many Muslims in Turkey spend in the mosques praying for forgiveness. It is also a night during which God is said to extend extra blessings to those who pray.

Greetings to all of you and goodnight

Ebru

(This is taken from my personal travel blog: http://yolcu-yasam.tumblr.com/)

For those of you who adamantly argue that art is the worst form of a stress reliever and actually serves to further exacerbate your frustrations, I am more than willing to go to war with you on the grounds of what I experienced only but few hours ago. I have seen marbling patterns in small notebook stores, art stores, and boutiques flowing across the face of a silk scarf or paper notebook with patterns that seem as fluid, yet complex as the intonations and reflected hues that are seen in the churning of the sea.

Beytul, our dear marbling instructor, attempted to demystify the secrets behind the creation of a marbling piece. She led us into a small room on the second story of their apartment turned studio where an open window blew the white curtains lightly into a gentle frenzy, almost as if motioning us to enter further into the safety of picturesque room. Two glass tables were arranged so that they were perpendicular to the wall adjacent with the window. Each table was covered by newspapers that bore not only headlines inscribed in a language so foreign to us that the the letters appeared to dance across the pages like figures and pictures more than words meant to convey the tragedies, finances, and horoscopes of the day, but also smatterings and smears of brilliant gold, aubergine, cornflower blue, and blood orange. The origins of the stains of color were seen on the far side of the table in small jars full of the same pigments, each containing a different color and rose-stem-handled horsehair paint brush. Although each step of the process of marbling was translated into English for us to understand, as soon as Beytul lifted her brush from the jar of rosebud pink, a sort of reverence fell over all of us present and focused solely on the magic occurring before our very eyes.

Drops of the rosebud pigment were smattered across the pan of water in a tiny rainstorm of pink tears. Next, the cornflower blue--another brief raining down of paint dripped gently into the canvas of water. A final layer of aubergine is scattered amidst the droplets of pinks and blues, never mixing like water and oil. Time for a new instrument to continue the magic. Beytul selects a small handled metal instrument that she proceeds to drag through the water, each stroke with such gentle but strong purpose. First down the length of the pan, then back and forth laterally in a fluid motion that creates small waves that swell in a curvilinear pattern that perpetuates in this motion even after she has ceased her tender strokes. After cleaning off the same small metal tip, she dips it into a new pigment of green. With it she touches the surface of the water ever so slightly as if it were made of the most fragile of glass. A circle of green quickly widens followed by a slow contraction as if live has just been breathed into it. A swift sweeping up, across twice, and then cutting down through the drop of green settles and we all inch forward, craning our necks to see what was created. A stem with three leaves floats delicately on the surface of the water. As we still stare in awe at how she is able to works so deftly with such a strange medium, she continues on to created a flower of three pigments and six petals that swirls clockwise like a pinwheel being blown in the wind. More finishing touches--a touch of color here, a swirl to the left, more lines being pulled from every which direction. Once she proclaimed her piece finished, we were still so stunned as to what had happened before our very eyes that we did not snap out of the trance until she laid a crisp sheet of off-white paper into the pan of water and dragged it out against the edge of the pan. Once the paper was removed, all traces of the menagerie of color were gone. Its presence had been so beautiful, yet fleeting, that we almost felt robbed of the moment. But we heard Baytul calling to us saying to "bakmak." Turning towards her we finally came to the realization of what had just occurred. Hanging by the corners in Beytul's hands was the ethereal pattern that had only moments before been floating on the surface of the water. It was, for lack of a better word, breathtaking.

The beauty of ebru is that no matter what colors you put on the water palette, no matter which direction or how many ways you stroke the pigments, there is no such thing as a mistake. You can throw the paint across the water or gently drip it back and forth like rain drops on a placid lake. No matter how many colors, how many layers, how many patterns you choose to put down on the water, the result is always an amalgamation of everything that you are feeling and thinking. There is no such thing as a mistake in ebru. And this is the beauty of it all.

Kaymak

The students have recently discovered the joys of kaymak, the Turkish version of clotted cream. It is most often eaten slathered on bread, with honey on top (although Ali also suggested spreading it on kadayif, a dessert that's a bit like baklava). Kaymak is made of cream from the milk of ... wait for it ... water buffalo milk!!! Who knew?

Paper floated on top of pigments

A few examples of Turkish marbling

Pigments are applied to the thickened water mixture and then the water is pushed to form the desired design.

Once the design is achieved, paper is floated on top of the pigment

Additional comment on the food

I was informed today that the substance in the bowl in the photo below was SUPPOSED to be guacamole. Can you say ick??

Walking...

I've never enjoyed walking for long periods of time. I tend to stomp when I walk. This greatly limits my durability and sustainability. My first week and a half of Turkey has done little to change these thoughts. There is a huge difference however, between walking in a mall with my sisters and walking in Turkey. In a mall with my sisters, I feel trapped within the confines of their desires. In Turkey, there is always a sense of excitement, adventure, and enlightenment. The pain I feel in my feet is endurable, only because it liberates me. Specifically, it frees me from my unfortunate ignorance of this wonderful culture, religion, and country.
Before embarking on this Turkish journey, I started growing a little mustache. (This was, of course, to my parents' dismay.) As of right now, I can say it was worth it. I have recently received two compliments from the natives in regards to the awesomeness of my mustache. This has totally validated my decision. Sorry, mom and dad!
Traveling overseas isn't always an easy transition. In my case, my bowels didn't agree with the new Turkish diet. The past three days have been an internal adventure of sorts. But thanks to Imodium, I seem to be feeling much better now. Yeah!
Today's adventure was marbling!!! It was the coolest thing ever! I'm not that great of an artist, but I have to say that I was pretty darn good today. The whole process was very mesmerizing. As I watched the demonstration run, I was in awe at what beauty could be made from just a few strokes. Aside from the marbling, just spending time with Ali and the whole gang who work over there was fun as well. I can never stop laughing when Ali and Peter converse in Japanese. It's just so funny to me. We also had tea before and after the marbling session. The pre-marbling tea (I think it was called Dervish tea) did a number on my heart though. The caffeine in that thing made my heart feel like it was beating a thousand miles per hour.
In all, this trip so far has definitely given me lots to think about. I've enjoyed the time with my friends and this country. Learning new things about Islam has led me to a greater understanding and respect for the religion. The fact that the people here are friendly doesn't hurt either. There have been many personal ups and downs during "Going Global 2011", but man, I am having way too much fun to complain about anything right now.

Food by Ruthie Heavrin

Do not, I repeat, do not eat Mexican food in Istanbul. I don't care how much you might miss Southern California and it's delicious variety of Hispanic foods. It's just not worth it. Do you see this guacamole? Yes, that brown gunk is guacamole. My stomach hurts. Just stick to the awesome Turkish cuisine such as savory crepes, spicy potato dumplings, shephard salad, lentil soup, and eggplant kebab. There are enough dishes for vegans so there is no excuse to shame the food of our southern neighbor by eating at an "El Torito" in the heart of Istanbul. Biggest mistake of my life? Probably not, but certainly not the best.



Post sundown Ramadan meal is also a killer choice. Rice, flat bread, soup, beans, kebab, and baklava make for a festive time with our Muslim brothers and sisters once the evening prayer call is made. Burritos are not going anywhere so I guess I can wait.

Kelly doing Turkish marbling

Kelly is laying pigments onto a thickened water solution and then pushing the water around to form designs. She will next lay paper onto the water and lift the image from the water along with the paper.

Much More Than an Art Class...

Although it has officially been one week since our arrival to Istanbul, it seems as if it has already been a month. In no time at all, we have learned to buy groceries, haggle for prices, ride the public transportations, and politely decline marriage proposals from Turkish men. Today, classes resumed as usual in the terrace of our apartments. We have been studying and discussing the history and complexity of the Islamic faith and its origins. Three groups have been created to rotate through different activities for the next couple of days: Marbling art classes, Aya Sophia, and the Grand Bazaar. My group today was assigned to go to marbling art class. After a quick lunch and stop at the Mado, the popular ice cream parlor, off to Turkish marbling class we went. For those of you that have not the slightest idea what marbling is, I would highly recommend looking up some pictures on Google so that you can get an idea of the beautiful designs that can be created. Simply put, marbling is a method of aqueous surface design where patterns are the result of color floated on some liquid and then carefully transferred to an absorbent paper. Our instructor gave us a quick example of the types of designs we could experiment with and then gave us free reign. Pretty much, marbling is awesome. Absolutely no skill is required to create a masterpiece. You can be born without a single artistic bone in your body, splash some colors in the water, swivel the brush back and forth, and viola…you have just created a design worthy of the LACMA. I absolutely loved marbling. I loved it so much in fact, that I plan on going back to buy a beginners kit to bring with me to the states. I have realized though, that it was not just marbling that I came to love, but the atmosphere itself. Our instructors were a husband and wife couple. Bright, energetic, and full of energy, they taught us simple techniques in marbling while conversing with us about everything and anything. After the class, they invited us to their terrace to drink tea and see a breathtaking view that is living proof as to why I have declared Istanbul as one of the prettiest cities I have ever visited. I remember the husband telling me that as much as he loves the United States, Istanbul is where he belongs. This is the city that practices genuine friendliness and hospitality, values personal relationship over time and money. It is here where one can be expected to meet 10 new individuals in a single day that you then invite to your home to drink tea. Schedules and itineraries are long forgotten and replaced with instead with organized spontaneity. If I have learned one thing today, I have learned that here in Istanbul, life is about community.

My Take on Things

I am not particularly fond of sharing my thoughts. I prefer to take it all in and give my take later after it has had time to develop. But share I must and share I will, so here's a glimpse of my experience in Turkey thus far.

Istanbul is truly spectacular, though some of my reasons as to why may differ slightly from those presented by my friends. Do not misunderstand me, I have enjoyed almost everything about this city so far. The city is truly alive, from the maze that is the Grand Bazaar to the festive Sultanahmet Square to the bustling commercial areas near Taksim. The shopping has been fun as well, though I have yet to really buy anything and do not care much for haggling over prices. Then there is the food. Oh goodness, the food. There is little that gives as much satisfaction as finishing a day at a nice restaurant with good food and fine company. I have particularly grown fond of most anything with chicken, which, despite the disagreement of some friends, I find especially scrumptious.

One of my favorite aspects of the trip so far has been getting to understand the culture and the people who define it. Marbling today was amazing. As an art form, it is elegent yet accesible: anyone can make beautiful things through it. Equally as enjoyable was the opportunity to get to know the family. They are welcoming, kind, and generous. I will fondly remember standing on the terrace of the house, the sea in front of me and the ancient city behind me, discussing the past, present, and future of the city in English and Spanish with the family. Even simply observing people in the city is interesting. There are individuals of all backgrounds and walks of life here, each with a different take on the world. Occasionally, while walking through the busy streets of the city, I will make eye contact with someone for a fleeting moment, just long enough to detect a shared curiousity and understanding that hints at perspectives so vastly different, yet simultaneously similar in so many ways.

However, what truly defines this city for me is not what I can see, but what I can not. This city is a historical gem, and for someone who loves history as much as I do, visiting is a dream come true. Everything here seems to have a story to impart. The walls recall sieges and blockades while the streets remember the sweat of merchants and blood of soldiers. The Hagia Sophia tells of days long gone, of coronations of kings, of vigils held late into the night, of frightened masses awaiting death and glory. This is a city that has been around for thousands of years, and the people who inhabit the city today are but part of a long and rich historical tradition that has contributed significantly to the story of humankind and will continue to do so into the future. I plan to make the most of my time here.

On another note, I have discovered (or rather, it was revealed to me by Hew), that I lacked a childhood due to my unfamiliarity with Pokemon. It had never bothered me before; it is not bothering me now. It is a shame about my childhood, though. Maybe someday I'll make up for it.

First weekend in Istanbul.

Xander mentioned that several of the students are fasting during Ramadan. We originally started with two students fasting and now about half of them have chosen to fast. Some of the Muslims I’ve talked with have been confused by this, asking immediately if the students are Muslims and then why, if they are not Muslims, they would be fasting. I have told them that fasting is also a tradition in Christianity as a way to help us concentrate on God, and that although some of the details are different the intent is very similar to the intent of fasting for Muslims. Many of our students know that fasting is a tradition within Christianity but they have never tried it themselves, and they see this as a way to practice a Christian spiritual discipline as well as to understand their Muslim neighbors better. I want to assure anyone who is concerned though, that all of the students are drinking water and additional electrolytes as needed, and they they, like their Muslim neighbors here, break the fast at sundown every day and just refrain from eating during the daylight hours. Also, all of us are keeping an eye on each other to ensure that no one becomes ill.

We have been invited to break the fast with our Muslim neighbors and acquaintances on two separate occasions. The first will be tonight, when we will all go to the gallery of a friend for a simple iftar (meal to break the fast).

Yesterday after a Sabbath morning service, most of us took a ferry across the Bosphorus to the Asian side of Istanbul and went to an Anatolian restaurant there for lunch. The ferry ride was pleasant and gave everyone a chance to get their bearings in the city to a greater extent. Sitting on an outside bench on the ferry while crossing the Bosphorus has always been one of my favorite things to do in Istanbul, and I’m glad so many of the students had the opportunity to experience that.

Friday in the early afternoon I sent the students out to observe people. They were to choose two groups that differed on one demographic variable (e.g. women with and without covered heads, people in different social classes, etc) and observe them to learn as much as possible about the differences and similarities in their behavior. One group decided that because they had already spent a fair amount of time in the city center they would take the tramway to the end of the line in an Istanbul suburb. They had a number of observations of how the people in this particular suburb (Bagcilar) different from people in the city center, including that almost no one spoke English, a much larger proportion of the women had their heads covered, people stared but were much less likely to engage them in conversation, and that people were lined up praying in the street (something I haven’t seen in Turkey before). Another group contrasted the behaviors and attitudes of secularists with the behaviors and attitudes of some of the more religious people they have met.

Overall I have been very pleased by how quickly they have found ways to connect with people here and have meaningful conversations. Several of the students have learned a fair amount of Turkish and are able to engage in rudimentary conversations (“survival Turkish”). Almost all have demonstrated an interest in learning and have made attempts to practice and learn what they can.