The past couple of days were spent
in Konya—a city about 3-4 hours south of Ankara still in the Anatolia region of
Turkey. While driving through our tour
guide, Saet, informs us that we were traveling along The Silk Road. Whoa.
It hits me that there is such a VAST history all around Turkey—and
really…that doesn’t do it justice. You
need to think of Turkey as a 7 layered fruit cake when it comes to
Archaeology. As you spear your fork into
the layers you come across different time periods and might even run into a
couple of dried apricot artifacts along the way. Each layer could contain something from
Paleolithic, Neolithic, Roman, Ottoman, or Modern cultures—or really just
scratch that because Turkey’s geographic location was a bridge to such events
as the crusades and the trading with the west.
Anybody’s cereal bowl could be buried here! There is history
EVERYWHERE. My mind has been exploding
for a couple of reasons: one, we are introduced to so many different learning
experiences every single day of our trip by experts and officials who are big
deals; and two, my own realizations and connections to what this means to my
seemingly failed education in “the West”.
How could this have jetted over my big hair and not fallen on receiving
ears!? Or was I even taught this at
all? Regardless, I’m here now and
learning so much about how important it is to understand people. People are so stinking important. These people are really important even to
Americans who live in their shopping mall bubbles and suburban daydreams. Their lives are NOT the Fox News ticker tape
lies of extremism, but that of peace and lovers of diversity. I sat through a lecture by an Islamic Law
scholar today and was filled with so many questions about who Turks and ultimately
Muslims are. As a side question: did you
know that in the 1920’s Greece and Turkey made an exchange? They exchanged approximately 1.5 Million
Christians and a half million Muslims so their nation-state would be less at
risk for division. In effect, they were
forced from their homes to move to a land that was unfamiliar. I just couldn’t grapple with this very well
during the lecture. I had so many
questions for what those people were experiencing and doing now because it’s
less than a decade old since it occurred.
Why didn’t I know this?!?! Oh
well, se la vie.
We visited a lot different sites
while in Konya one of them being Çatalhöyük (Cha-tal-ho-ook”). I’ve never been
to an excavation dig before this—unless you count Palenque and other
ruins. But this was just such an amazing
sight to see. They were uncovering homes
from the Neolithic period that were underneath Roman Empire ruins. I’m a language teacher and not a historian,
but a colleague in our group, Shawn, applied to this to this trip BECAUSE of
this particular excursion. It was
somewhat of an emotional experience for him and made me appreciate what I was
seeing despite my ignorance for what it really meant. The group of teachers and scholars that make
up this Fulbright trip really bring different perspectives into what we’re
looking at. I’m trying not to be an ass
among them—but I don’t know if its working very well. I appreciate the individuals I’m getting to
know--they’re changing my life and allowing me to see the beauty we’re
surrounded by in a unique way.
We went to our hotel in
Konya. Sarah, Lindsey and I decided to
get a massage. This was the obvious
right choice for our lives. We were in
skimpy towels wrapped around our bodies steaming, sauna-ing, and then rubbed
down with incredible oils. Then, was the
Turkish Bath. Well, it was
interesting. The guy took a cheesecloth
and dipped it in a bucket of lemon soap water.
Then opened up the cloth until it filled with air like a balloon. Then he rung the air out over my body, which
was laying on a warmed slab of marble, until suds became mountains of foam all
over my body. Those of you who have
received my selfies of me in a bubble bath understand just how much in heaven I
was. I was washed from head to toe and
everything was slippery, awkward, and awesome—I never new Turkeys could bathe
so well.
I’ve had a difficult time
sleeping. I’m not sure if it’s the jet
lag, or the amount of çay I’m drinking at night—hence me still being awake
after midnight writing a blog entry. I
woke up this morning and went right into two lectures that just blew me
away—one about Religion and Diversity in Turkey, and the other about Turkish
Literature (in particular a guy named Mevlana or you may have known him by the
name Rumi). Rumi was a Turkish poet who
wrote about love. However, he used
physical/sexual love to convey his experience with loving God. I sat through the lecture reading Rumi
quotations on my iPhone followed by copying and pasting them into a note on my to
go back later and be inspired by on a daily basis. His words were so affirming and full of
hope. One of my favorites was “And you?
When will you begin that long journey into yourself?” That trek is daunting to me. I’m willing to hitchhike my way down a
mountain in southern Mexico, fly 13 hours to Azerbaijan to stay less than 11
hours in the country, but to enter into my own heart seems scarier than my
wildest imagination. I don’t know what’s
down there or what I’ll find. I think
that this may be the biggest trick the devil really pulls on us is to be afraid
of who we really are—because that is God’s art, the prime of his creation IS US. Serendipitously, it is a journey we ALL
really have to take to be happy and it must be alone.
I met Rumi’s 22nd
generation granddaughter who has maintained a foundation dedicated to her great
great great great great x22 grandfather.
The foundation encourages peace and love in Turkey and educates people
about what Rumi philosophized. There was
something powerful about her presence—like there was light beaming from her
heart and melting my own. I felt
compelled to ask for her blessing and I’ve never felt that way before. When we were parting I walked up to her and
she gave me her hand and taught us to kiss the back of the other person’s hand
because it was a symbol of being on the same ground and that the other person
would enter into her own heart. I kissed
the back of her hand and she smiled at me with piercing bluish green eyes—I
received my blessing and I felt so much love for life.
After this I went to a mosque
where Rumi was buried and I smelled a piece of Muhammad’s beard. I don’t know
what he used, but I’m assuming it was from Lush.
I also may have taken some prayer
beads from a different mosque today. To
be fair, they were on the floor and it kind of looked like a really great
necklace. I just felt like I had to get
that out there, but I have nothing else to say about the matter except that
you’ll probably compliment me when I wear them.
I was a little selfish with the
cookies I bought at the gas station today.
I didn’t share a single one with any of my friends on the bus because
they were so good. I think maybe I’ll
need to make up for this somehow.
Also, Lindsey and I cannot be trusted in any domed buildings. I don't think our bodies receive the sound waves very well in this structure and we end up being really really stupid.
One last thing is that I’ve
decided on a theme for my photographic studies on this trip. I’m putting a series together on Turkish
textures. There is so much to be seen in
way of landscape, artifacts, and people, but I’ve been wanting to stop and
notice the detail of what people and nature have created in this rich place. I’ve been having some fun with my
Macro-switch on my camera, and I think its going to produce some beautiful
prints when blown up on a larger scale.
I would love to hear from you
about what’s going on in your life you’d care to share. I’m available via email (tjmcfalls@gmail.com), Facebook message,
or if you have an iPhone I can send/receive iMessages. I encourage you in the
words of Rumi, “Let the beauty of what you love be what you do.”
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