And time for part two of my Istanbul story!
Sunday, 1/4:
+ Engin had called to reserve us a place at a very nice Turkish baths, the hamam. It wasn't exactly what I was expecting (not that I knew what to expect), but it was a lot of fun. We splurged and went for the Luxury package, which included a scrub down and wash and a 30 minute oil massage.
What we weren't expecting is how the wash went down. You walk into a large room with natural light from the ceiling and a large hot stone in the center. Most of the women are topless, some fully unclothed, and all speaking in Turkish. You are indicated to lay down on the hot stone, work up a bit of a sweat, and then one of the women pointed to me and pointed to the edge of the stone, where the washing was being done the whole way round. She removed my bra and scrubbed me with water and a loofah pad (or something like it) and then did the same with hot water and a soap. It was nice and relaxing and she spoke a little English, enough to ask me "English?" and "You enjoy Istanbul?" but I wasn't really concerned about the language barrier because I could understand her directions and I was really relaxed. She then brought me to another area and rinsed me off and washed my hair and then pointed me to the jacuzzi room.
I was happy to just float in the jacuzzi until they called me in for my massage, but the other three (who had not enjoyed it as much as I had, having expected something different; I think they were uncomfortable with naked women washing them down, but I don't understand. The cultural tradition is it's a place for Muslim women to go and cleanse themselves and only women are allowed in with each other.) weren't content with that. So we went looking. I ended up waiting a few more minutes downstairs while they were taken upstairs.
The massage was amazing and so worth spending a little more money (after all, I'd gotten out the liras and when was I going to use them again?). I reflected a little afterwards that even a year ago, I would not have been this comfortable with nudity and strange people touching me. (I still can't have people touch my feet, though; the lady tried on one foot and I stayed as still as possible, but when she moved to the other one I couldn't help jerking around a bit. She took the hint and focused on the rest of me, lol).
+ After showering and changing, we were hungry and so went for food. Not as good as the other places we ate, but eh, that's like anywhere.
+ We split up after that, because I wanted (not wanted, needed, but I didn't let them in on just how much it meant to me) to go see the Hagia Sophia and they didn't. So they went in search of the underground water system that is no longer in use and is now a tourist destination and then Topkapi Palace, I think, while I went to stand in line and give my money to history.
+ I'm going to add this little bit here. This is part of the reason it's taken me so long to write this up. You know how I'm overly emotional and I say things like, "it was the best [thing] ever!" about, oh, I don't know, everything? And how I'll say things like it gave me goosebumps or I was speechless or I can't find the words to say? I feel I overuse those phrases and all of them are relevant for the next story, but I feel like a failure. If the writer can't find the words to describe an experience and so resorts to "it was amazing, I was speechless, I had goosebumps," what sort of writer is she? But that is a tangent for another time. It's time for me to tell you about the Hagia Sophia.
+ Since I read The Historian the summer before 10th grade and then had a chapter on the Byzantine Empire in 10th grade history, I have wanted to see the Hagia Sophia. What attracts me is the physical (the pictures have always shown it to be a beautiful, beautiful sight) and the spiritual; it was a church during the Christian Byzantine Empire and then a mosque when the Muslim Ottoman Empire came in and now it functions as a meeting place between the two, important for both (though a little more for Christians; the Blue Mosque is more holy for Muslims in the city) and proof positive that, though it may come from a place of war and conquering, the two religions can exist side by side and bring Christians and Muslims to their knees in the same place. It doesn't matter what words are used (words are superfluous anyway, when it comes to emotion; feeling is more important than thinking) or what pictures are on the wall (for the record, Christian iconography stands beside old Quranic phrases in calligraphy on the walls), it is a holy place.
+ I was fairly jittering in line and I was impatient at the till ("just take my money and let me in!" I wanted to say) and then I walked inside. And I promptly started crying. I couldn't help it, the tears just started. I had to close my eyes and talk myself down to keep from blubbering and properly bawling.
To quote directly from my journal, written whilst in the building itself: "Hagia Sophia (Aya Sophia) is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen in my entire life and I started crying when I walked in. There are no words. Well, there are. All cliche, all adjectives that hold no candle to what I'm actually feeling. It's the kind of emotional response that goes beyond language and description."
And then later, the next morning, "I felt completely...destroyed. Emotionally. I'm fairly certain that my face was some weird contortion of pain and discomfort--but I really was just trying to hold back from weeping."
+ To add to that emotional turmoil (actually, I came out feeling calmer than I had done in a very long time. At peace. It could be the crying, but I think it was the catharsis the experience provided), we went to a Whirling Dervish ceremony that evening. No one else in my party or in the audience, for that matter, cared about it the way I did; everyone else was taking pictures and snacking and whatever else, but I tried to keep my attention focused on what they were showing us, the piece of cultural and spiritual tradition that we were allowed to see. It was beautiful.
Monday, 2/4:
+ We didn't have to leave until 1 (I could've waited longer, having waffled and bought the later flight), so while they were packing and showering and getting themselves together, I went for a walk. Nowhere big, just up and down a bit of Istiklal, just letting myself sink into the feeling of being there. It was a nice ending to a whirlwind weekend.
So, my dear readers, that is that. My incredible journey to a city I never thought I'd actually get to visit. Pictures are here, all 200+ of them.
And now, to finish packing for my next adventure: Italy! Bella and I leave for Rome ungodly early tomorrow morning (so early we're going in tonight), spend 3 days there, then 3 days in Venice, then back home.
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