Our last weekend

Written by Barbara Anderson

So quickly we have come to the end of our time in Turkey. I still have a long list of the places we need to see in Istanbul, not to mention the places beyond the city we long to see. Cappadocia, the beaches along the Mediterranean, more ruins… So we must try to be frantic tourists for a few days instead of the leisurely travelers we have been, and Larry will complain about the fast pace and long to find benches. I will feel stressed about the long time it takes for us to get anywhere because of our location on the Asian side and will probably complain..We must remember why this time has been special;we have learned to accept the different ways each of us likes to see a place and have adjusted the pace accordingly.

And now it’s Monday. Suitcases are spread out all over the floor. I am trying to figure out how we will find space for everything as I watch (or listen ) to the replay of the buckeye game, the weekly (except for a best forgotten game last weekend) gift Anders sends so that I remain in touch with what often seems most important to most of the Anderson/Berliner clan: Ohio State football. And as I pack, I reflect on the last few days when somehow we were able to find moments and experiences that in many ways summed up our time here.
Yes, travel on the buses was slow, stressful, and made filling in all the must sees on my list impossible. But we had interesting conversations with fellow passengers; a woman with 2 children in America (who talks to them on skype every night much as we do), a young college student majoring in international studies and political science with whom Larry discussed all his congressional lobbying experiences, a man who had lived in the U.S. For years, in Rochester and New Orleans with whom we could discuss food, weather, and shared memories of all the places we mutually knew. ..The bus rides seem less endless when the friendliness of the Turkish people exhibits itself. Of course, we also had the long crowded ride when we stood most of the way and rude passengers rushed to get the first free seat when they had just joined the standing crowd instead of letting any of us longtime standers take a seat…That experience , thank goodness, has been rare; instead we have seen courtesy, helpfulness, and a sense of esprit de corps best manifested in passengers getting on the back of the bus passing money or their akbils (the special passes) forward to the front, with everyone cooperating in the process. I think of the near tragedy for me in Canakkale when I left my purse on the dolmus and found it almost an hour later, untouched, unopened, safe! We have marveled at the kindness of strangers, the efforts most nonspeakers of English have made to help us. We should have made an effort to learn a modicum of survival Turkish, but have seldom felt we absolutely needed the local vernacular with the exception of the curious spray can Larry had picked up from a pharmaceutical company at a meeting before I arrived. He had assumed it was some sort of medicine for children; I studied it carefully and decided it might be a room deodorizer (something we have often needed living in such close quarters), which it was. But for weeks it sat on our shelves when we could have used it?
One of the best examples, though, of the helpfulness of strangers occurred yesterday as the closing time at a museum arrived. The guard reminded us the museum was closing, but then asked if we had seen the time to try to absorb everything.
So what was left to see and do? Too much. We will have to visit the Princes Islands next time (and there must be one and soon). We attempted to see the Dolmabahce Palace where the sultans lived from the mid 19th century to the end of the Ottoman Empire and where Ataturk lived and died as the head of the Turkish republic.
After visiting the Jewish History museum we decided to walk along the waterfront to the Palace, wasting (from my perspective) 45 minutes only to discover the lines to enter were so long that the ticket office sales were suspended. We can see on a future visit how the sultans attempted to live a more European lifestyle in the 19th century as the ottoman empire skidded into the “sick man of Europe” designation it had at the end of its life; Larry’s cousin Meral admitted she had never been in it, so we felt it probably was a wise decision to avoid the long lines and follow plan b, a tram ride to the Archaeological Museum. We reflected on the tram ride that the long walk had paralleled our walk on our first day of sightseeing. We had stopped at the same park for a break , this time to eat pastries from a bakery. We had wondered each time how far away our destination was, but this time it was a rather happy reminder that the Bosporus has provided us many of our happiest memories.
We had started the last day of sightseeing ignominiously by not realizing Turkey had changed its clocks while we slept. We arrived for toast and olives only to discover the student cafeteria would not open for another half hour. We all are so egocentric that we assume everyone in the world “falls back” the same time we do; instead Europe sensibly alters its clocks the last Sunday in October…The time change confusion put an edge on the morning, but the bus ride with the pleasant Turkish man with the varied American living experiences compensated. We even found the Jewish History museum with ease although the directions in Rick Steves made it sound difficult to find. The museum card did not work there, but the man at the entrance accepted American dollars instead (we were low on Turkish currency until we stopped later at an ATM). The museum is tucked into an old building, a former synagogue, at the end of a narrow alley near the entrance to the tramway. It presents a look at the presence of the Jewish people in turkey for over 500 years, emphasizing the haven turkey has been , not only after the expulsion from Spain in 1492, but even as a neutral safeguard for Jews rescued by Turkish diplomats during the Hitler era. Larry’s cousin told us later that the viewpoint may be overly rosy, but we certainly felt better informed about the background history of Larry’s ancestors in this country after the visit. We both were left with the hope that the tradition of tolerance and friendship will continue to be maintained as the Turkish government acquires a more religious mien. Tolerance should be viewed always as the direction we all aspire toward, not as a relic of a more enlightened past. Visiting this museum was an essential part of Larry finding his roots in Turkey, and as the day ended with a wonderful evening with his cousins, it was one of the most fitting ways to spend our last weekend as Turkish travelers.
Since so many of our travels have focused on the site of ancient ruins, the Archaeological Museum was a must for us to see.. Too many times we had encountered signs telling us the finds at a particular site were now in the British Museum, the Pergamun in Berlin, or the Hermitage, but we had read what treasures had not been stolen or signed away to other countries could be found here in Istanbul in this museum nestled near the side entrance to Topkapi Palace. We had read that a 2 hour minimum stay would be required and quickly realized we would have enjoyed multiple entries to absorb everything from the incredible sarcophagae (especially those from Sidon), the pottery from Troy, the sculpture, the friezes from temples, etc. My favorite pieces were probably the half smiling image of a young athlete, wrapped in a cloak, his face and youth reminding me of my favorite young athlete, our Anders., the large head of Sappho, and the Alexander sarcophagus. The sarcophagus is amazingly intact; some of the paint which once colored the marble carvings is still visible. You can see a hint of the yellow hair of Alexander, the blue of a cloak, the red of a shield. Our assumptions that every piece of Greek or Roman sculpture was a noble white are quickly erased by the evidence of paint, which may once have been truly Technicolor. There were also a fascinating collection of 2000 year old cuneiform tablets concerning a variety of legal issues. I found an early agreement between a husband and wife about their obligations to each other particularly fascinating. If the wife proved to be barren, the husband could take a prostitute as a second wife. In the case of divorce, the spouse desiring the divorce was to pay the other a given amount. It was a kind of ancient prenuptial agreement! Larry commented on how much more such museums mean to him now that he has seen where the artifacts were originally discovered. Seeing columns, statues, or architectural details in the country where they originated is very different from encountering them in another country far from their original provenance and wondering how that country acquired them (legally or illegally).
The museum covers 3 buildings, one concentrating on the riches of
Turkey’s archaeological past, the other 2 displaying an array of Turkish ceramics and tiles and assorted artifacts from the Ancient Orient. It was in this museum that we saw the ancient peace treaty and could reflect on how transient and yet hoped for peace among nations has always been. We needed more time to see and think about everything we were seeing. We would have liked to sit in the outdoor tea shop and enjoy tea in a garden setting where statues and columns served as the backdrop.
My comments are not chronological today. I’m trying to gather together similar experiences, not to list “what we did today.” I’m recalling a notorious journal of a summer vacation Anders once wrote which concentrated on what motels we stayed at and what we ate. We know what has always absorbed his thoughts! I’m less linear in my thinking; I’ve read too much stream of consciousness modern writing..
The day before we had also felt rushed in viewing the carpets and calligraphy in the Museum of Islamic Arts. Its location in the former palace of Ibrahaim Pasa, once the grand vizier and favorite of Suleyman the Magnificent until he was “murdered”(executed), makes it a fascinating place to see even if one has limited interest in the vast array of historic carpets. Since we had just spent too much time trying to get away from a rug dealer who could not accept our frequent comment that we could not buy a carpet without consulting our designer daughter (oh, the glories of having an artist daughter to present as an excuse for being unable to buy a carpet , for of course, we must ask her advice before any major decorating purchase), the carpets were fascinating. Perhaps on a future trip , with our artist daughter along to offer advice, we will consider buying an oriental rug, but we need to know so much more about carpets first. The ethnographic section was also interesting with its displays of how black tent nomads live in eastern turkey to this day, packing up their belongings and traversing by camel. The scenes of life in 19th century Istanbul were such a contrast with the centuries-old nomadic life as the blend of Europe and Asia was so evident in the urban scenes.
Leaving the museum for the nearby Underground Cisterns, we passed by the costumed performers playing martial music in a pavilion near the Hippodrome. Some were dressed in the battle attire we recognized from the Panorama 1453 paintings; the music also was an echo of that scene. We noticed that all but one member of the group were mustachioed. I wish we could have captured the sound of the band, the rhythm of their feet marching from the stage, and as their sounds faded away, the sound of mullahs calling the faithful to pray, echoed from two nearby mosques. That sound is so haunting and so beautiful in its minor key except, as we discovered in Selcuk, when you’re trying to sleep and the mosque is too close to your hotel…
The Cistern dates from Byzantine times and appears in an early James bond movie, so our James Bond/Sean Connery look –alike, had to see it. It’s lit in an evocative way, with reddish-gold lights casting strange shadows. Fish swim in the water among the 300 columns; their living presence serves as a sign that the water is safe for use. The setting made us think of the vast underground waterways the Phantom rowed as he carried Christine away to the Music of the Night.
We had also finally ventured into the grand Bazaar (we escaped with no purchases since my idea of bargaining starts and finishes at too low prices for the Bazaar merchants to accept). With more time and money, I might have enjoyed getting lost there for awhile, but I really am more of a museum browser than shopper, in spite of what my credit card bills would indicate. Years ago on my first visit to London, a fellow student on the trip observed that "I did museums the way (she) did stores. The comment still applies although I do feel frustrated when we travel somewhere and never stop to do any shopping. I think Larry and I enjoyed the Spice Market much more than its more famous sister. He was so intrigued with all the spices filling bins, the endless array of tea leaves, the cooking vessels, etc. I liked being able to sample various flavors of Turkish delight (and thinking of Edmund in the Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe). I wonder if anyone leaves that treasure trove of scent and taste without buying at least 100 grams of something.