Turkey...That's In the Middle East- Right?

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What We Know About Muslims
What would you say if I had told you that we would be traveling to a country with a 95%!M(MISSING)uslim population? The borders of this country are shared by Iran, Iraq, Syria, Georgia, and Azerbyjon. Would you have been nervous? Scared? Afraid that we would be victims of terrorism? Would you have advised us against going?
The truth of the matter is that before coming into Turkey, I was unaware that so much of its population claimed to be Muslims. I have seen Muslim people before in some of my previous travels to India and Bali, however in both of these places Hinduism was the main religion with a few Muslims peppered throughout. Even though I had looked at a map before arriving, my focus was more on Turkey's proximity to Greece and Europe than Middle Eastern countries presently in conflict. I regret to inform you that had I realized that Turkey was a Muslim country I might have been a lot more nervous about coming here- I still would have visited but with much more trepidation.
What do I know about Muslims? Let's see...I have seen a lot of them lately on the news- probably the same stuff you watch and read! Let's recall together what we've been taught about Muslims through our all-informing media...
First, (and most obviously) Muslims are terrorists- right? I mean aren't our American soldiers (a.k.a. "the good guys") in the Middle East fighting a bunch of Muslims (a.k.a. "the bad guys")?
Secondly, Muslim women, hidden behind their layers of black robes must not be very intelligent- or maybe they are all abused by society. After all, who would dress like that in the triple digit heat of the Middle East?
We've learned that Muslim men are mean and oppressive and cruel. Haven't we all seen "Not Without My Daughter"?
Lastly, Muslims hate Americans and we are supposed to strongly dislike-or at least disapprove- of them. (Being a Christian nation, we are not allowed to actually hate other people, that would be un-Christ-like! Instead we say things like, "I strongly disapprove of their morals and beliefs." When in reality, do we really even know what their morals and beliefs are? Not really. (Could we be using these phrases to disguise our prejudices?)
I am writing this from a bus traveling north through Turkey. We are five minutes into a five hour haul. We couldn't locate our seat numbers when we boarded the bus. A young, handsome gentleman passenger got our attention and smiled as he pointed to the window seal at two seat numbers. He had seen our confusion and decided to eliminate it by helping out. I think he might have been a Muslim.

A Day In Turkey
We arrived in Turkey six days ago and entered the country from it's southwest coast through a port called Marmaris. The city was bursting with exotic things to buy like extravagant carpets and gigantic curving water pipes. There were excursions to be purchased-everything from chartering a private sailing cruise to luxurious days in Turkish Spas. People were yelling, selling, and cajoling. Boats waltzed in the harbor, the smell of kabob lofted through the salty air and the sun beat down heavy, illuminating everything below.
We saved a few bucks by walking into town from our ferry boat instead of taking a taxi. Our backpacks seemed unusually heavy due to the heat and the sleepless night we had endured beforehand. We were happy to have arrived in Turkey however, and the walk gave us the opportunity to take in the flavor of the country we were going to be spending the next two weeks in.
We passed storefronts overflowing with Turkish goods, tried not to stare at a woman weaving a magnificent carpet in front of her family's business, smiled at strangers who welcomed us to their country with a thickly-accented but very sincere "Hello!" Hagglers were happy to try out their few words of English on us with the hopes of making a customer.
"Hello! Ver are yoo frum?"
Americans are few and far between here, so most locals think we are either German or Australian. One guy hollered after us, "Aussie! Aussie! Aussie!", while others forgot the English and went right into, "Ah! Deutschland! Velkomin!
The hostel we had decided on had been boasted in our guide book as having fans, cable T.V., a book exchange, and to quote the book, "impeccably clean" rooms. We found our way through the busy bizarre, which the hostel was located within, thanks to merchants pointing the way.(Our gigantic backpacks were a dead give-away as to where we were going!)
After checking-in we realized that there were fans- for an extra charge. There was cable T.V.- in the smoke filled lobby, and it was used primarily by the employees for watching local sports. There wasa book exchange- filled with cheesy dime store romance novels. There was not however, anything close to impeccable cleanliness! Our room had forget-me-nots left by previous guests strewn throughout the room...various hairs, a dirty Q-Tip, and sand were a few of the gifts bestowed upon us. When I pulled back the sheets they had obviously not been cleaned- there was a huge grease stain on the top of the sheet, several dark long hairs under the pillows and the funniest thing- a dark wine or blood stain at the foot of the bed that the maid had tried to cover with a folded blanket- it was SO obvious! I mentioned the problem at reception and to their credit, they were quick to come and change the bedding. Our sleep that night was almost non existent. The tiny room was so hot that I woke up every few minutes paranoid that bugs were crawling on me only to discover that it was sweat rolling down my body. Regardless of this tiny mishap, Marmaris is a lively, fun, dazzling town. It is also pretty touristy. (a lot of westerners take day trips here, it is only an hour by boat out of the Greek Isles and others come for the luxuries that are easily found here). We decided that with India's crowds less than two weeks away, we would attempt to get away from the masses and headed inland.
After a day in Pammukale, known for its calcium white formations that pool with mineral water and reflect the sky, we headed north to Afyon. We went to this city with the disapproval of many a ticket office employee and were asked more than once, "Why Afyon? There is nothing to see there!" Well, while our guide book let us down on its recommendation for our first night's accommodation, its tips to explore some of Turkeys lesser- known wonders in Afyon's outskirts, were dead-on. Our directions were vague to say the least, on how to get to the things we wanted to see near Afyon. In the touristy cities many people spoke a fair amount of English, but here in Afyon, communication was left to games of charades. There were no busses that went to the sites we'd hoped to see and we discovered that all rental cars had been rented out for the weekend. As luck would have it we ran into a helpful fellow at the bus station. (We were getting ready to buy tickets out of town and had realized that the legistics were just to tricky to get to the places we had wanted to go.)Within about fifteen minutes, the man had arranged for someone to drive us to our destinations. -Can you believe that this guy was a Muslim too!?- We hoped that our day would be worth all of the trouble...it was.
In no time, we were swept away from the city and into the tiny crumbling villages of the countryside. Our car bumbled along through the dirt and curved through squishy roads as our driver lit up cigarette after cigarette with the windows tightly closed as to not let in the dust from the road.
We pulled to the side of the road (though we didn't need to, not a car was in sight!) and took a look around. We were surrounded by fields of Poppies. They were dried and hard and ready to be harvested. Their budded heads were stiff and sharp. I had always thought it would be cool to fall into a euphoric sleep, much like Dorothy was bewitched into on her way to Oz, but looking at the state of these Poppies, I decided that perhaps its best that this fantasy stays just that.
In the fields were women, snapping the flowers off at their stems- about a foot down from the bud. They gathered the brown dry bits in buckets. I was intrigued by these women. They were mysteriously beautiful with their scarves wrapped around their heads causing their eyes to stand out and catch the rays of the sun like prisms. Their ragged skirts hung off of their curvy figures and their hands were calloused and cut from their job in the fields; their brows sweaty. There was no shade or water in sight. I was filled with this overwhelming admiration for the work they do to put food on their table and clothes on their children. I tried to take a couple of photographs of them- shooting discretely from the hip. We walked through the field with their blessing given through smiles and words of Turkish welcome. When we returned again to their work area, they had laid out a bouquet for me in the middle of the dirt path- so I wouldn't miss it. I looked at the crude, brown beautiful gift laid before my feet, then looked at them. They were smiling and insisted that I take the gift, genuinely happy to have been our hosts in their poppy field.
I was so touched- one might even say I was moved. These poor field workers with holes in their clothes and perspiration stains on their head scarves had taken the time to welcome a weird-looking American stranger. I looked at Griff who was also tongue-tied. I shook the bouquet and the seeds inside of the buds rattled around their bulbous casing like maracas- I did nothing to disguise my delight at the strange plant. I bowed and uttered several thank- yous. I remembered some peaches that we had bought for our day away from the city that were still in the car. Griff ran back to get them and I handed them over humbly, a gesture that they seemed to appreciate. As we left I turned to take a photo and they stopped their work to pose for me. This was the invitation I had wanted, so I ran back and snapped off a few closer shots. They giggled as they looked at themselves through the little LCD screen on my camera. I have their images now, and will forever remember their welcome words and smiles. Would you have thought that even these working, laughing, kind-hearted women were Muslims?
We drove on, my new Poppy-bouquet sticking and scratching me in the legs as it sat on the seat next to me. Our driver stopped outside a lone tea-house in a dusty little village to ask the men sitting on the porch about directions to our next obscure destination. (We realized that our driver had never been here before either and took a few wrong turns himself. We also realized that had we rented a car, we would have never been able to navigate the strange deserted roads.) The men, upon seeing tourists in the backseat of the car were ever helpful and one man emerged from the crowd, walked to the passenger seat and got in. He rode along with us, directing the driver through back roads and into secret locations of beauty. This man, as it turns out, just happened to be quite important in his teensy little town. He was the city's police chief, animal control, city planner, mayor, and tourist agency. He never stopped smiling and kept talking to us in German...just in case. He had a knack for invented sign language as well as a set of keys and permission to pass into every sight in the surrounding towns. After a couple of hours of sight seeing, he invited us to Turkish tea. We went back to the tea house that we had picked him up in and enjoyed meeting other townspeople as everyone passing gawked politely. (I know it sounds like an oxymoron, but the Turkish have it down pat- this inquiry with their eyes that is not the slightest bit intimidating. It's an art I tell you!). The mayor offered us something to eat, but we only had the driver for a bit more so we passed and bid our farewells. Before leaving he insisted that he show us his office. When we were there, Muslim prayers were being sung over the little village's loud speakers. (This is done five times a day in every town as a call to prayer.) When I inquired as to why the Mayor was not praying, he looked at me and smiled. "It's my day off!" he joked as the driver nodded in concurrence. The two of them laughed heartily while Griff and I shook our heads and joined in. This was the Muslim version of how Griff and I joke about going to church on Sunday morning with "Pastor Pillow"….Now, I know for a fact that the Mayor was a Muslim, so why did he sacrifice hours of his time and energy to show us around?…this was getting weird. Not only had all the Muslims we met seemed “normal”, they were actually unbelievably friendly!
Our driver took us a bit farther into an area that upon arrival, Griff and I couldn't believe had been so overlooked by outsiders! Within the rocky hills of the Turkish countryside an entire citadel had been carved! Caves occur here naturally in abundance, but long ago the Turks actually chiseled out rooms, even a palace, from the rocky hillsides. We wandered solo through the caves; their windows and doors. We ran up their staircases and sat in the inlaid thrones and benches created out of the Cliffside. This rocky city seemed to be taken right from the imagination of a child! They were the sort of structures that kids dream up and see so clearly in their heads as they sword fight with sticks or wear crowns of daisies on their heads.
The sun was getting lower. We left play time behind and went back into town. From all the exploring, we'd worked up an appetite so we chose a clean simple kabob restaurant and sat outside at a table. The food was delicious- flat bread bubbling with huge pockets of air and dipped in sauces, chicken seasoned to perfection, tiny beans cooked to create a salad reminiscent of couscous. I excused myself to the restroom and a fellow sitting next to us with a friend asked Griff where he was from, how he liked Turkey, what our itinerary was, and such. Griff gave the standard answers and they exchanged pleasantries for about four minutes. I came back to the table, and Griff and I finished our meal. As we were paying the bill, the man next to us turned towards Griff and said, "Excuse me. I would like to give you this." He held out a thick silver ring. For the second time that day, Griff and I were dumbfounded.
"But, WHY?" we asked the man several times. This question seemed just as strange to him as the gift he'd bestowed upon Griff. His brow went into a questioning wrinkle, and he stated matter-of-factly, "because...it is just because." Griff thanked him profusely and put the ring on his finger. We walked away in awe...ANOTHER Muslim?
So far the Turkish people had been nothing but overly-kind and welcoming. They seemed to show genuine interest in everything we told them, whether it be through broken English or silly pantomimes. From the workers in the fields to the college educated city-dwellers, their arms were open extra wide.

Random Acts Of Kindness
We have never been to a country with friendlier people… The bus attendant who tried to sneak me Coca-Cola when I didn't want coffee… The man at the bus station who translated for us and inquired about our trip and seemed concerned about our impression of his country- proud when he heard what it was… The restaurant owner who showered us with free food and personal service… The bakery shop lady who greeted us with kind words and treated us like her own. The man at the market who saw us sorting our change to buy some hair-ties, then took them out of my hand and placed them in our bag- no charge…. The assistant manager at the hippest coffee joint in town (a little place called "Starbucks"), who lit up when we came in for a second round and gleefully said in choppy English, "When I see you I am so nice!" (Translation: When I saw you come in the door, I was so happy!")
I wanted to keep track of every kindness that has been done for us in Turkey, but the list got too long and I was spending too much time trying to write them down. You can stop almost anyone on the street and ask to be pointed in the right direction. No one has rolled their eyes at us or talked behind our backs for mispronouncing things or not knowing how to do something. Though the language has been an obstacle, it is easily overcome by the Turkish people's willingness to make you feel comfortable in their country. I have really made an effort to dress as modestly as possible and I carry a scarf with me to cover my head and shoulders but I really don't need to. The Muslims here don't look at me judgmentally. The men don't gawk and the women don’t show the slightest bit of animosity. I have never been surrounded by such a culture of kindness...and this culture that I so admire is the effort of a Muslimpeople.

Back On the Bus...
I'm listening to a rock song, okay- it's U2 again- I've got a lot of U2 songs on my ipod many of which I have not even listened to... there are all these U2 "Rarities" there’s tons of "Live" albums, and then there are soundtracks and songs they have sung with other artists. I'm working my way through them in a year. I found one that I had forgotten about- it's fast, lots of guitar, and has Bono's delicious voice singing these words that just now kicked me in the stomach. Simple, true wake-up calls- I think that is his specialty.
There are green and brown and yellow hills in front and around me. There are rows of orchard trees and fields of vegetables planted in between the hills. The bus attendant is wearing a bow tie and tux shirt- the kind I used to wear when I catered fancy parties. But this isn't a fancy party, it is just a big bus with travelers sitting quietly in their seats. No Macarena. No YMCA. No one's boss getting sloshed and hitting on the caterer. There is some music coming from the front of the bus that I can hear when I take my headphones off. It's the type of music I used to classify as "weird Arab stuff"- you know the kind? Funny, but in a matter of days, this music that used to grate on my ears actually sounds...nice! Not only that, the words are not Arab, they are Turkish. It's funny what actually understanding a culture can do to a person's tolerance.
The lady in front of me is reading a book in a language I can't understand, even though I tried peering over her shoulder to spy. The woman behind me wears thick round glasses- the type from the early eighties. A brown and yellow scarf is wrapped around her head and tied at the neck. My husband is sitting next to me.
We've passed numerous mosques since hitting the road. Many are blue and white or silver with tall pointy towers on their left and right- this is where the prayers are broadcast from. I'm not sure I had ever seen a mosque before, or at least was aware of what it was if I have. The first time I saw one of the towers jetting up from a Turkish town, I thought it was some sort of tourist attraction- a tower for visitors to climb up and take photos of the city or something.
Bono is asking me, almost knowingly as another mosque flies by my window, "Where is the love?" He's telling me to lay everything down and just to love.
He's asking me if I am who I claim to be. He's sympathizing with me; telling me that pride is not an easy thing to let go of. He's hollering at me that it's all about love and peace.
Is it possible that these Turkish Muslims have taught me something? The people I had been brainwashed into thinking dislike me so much have shown me a love that seems to be... well...Biblical? With their scarved heads and front pockets filled by the Koran, they have set an example of what dedication is to a belief. To clarify- there are many variations on the Muslim religion; it is a lot like Christianity in that respect. We have Christians that worship on Sunday, some that believe in covering your head inside of a church, others that believe men should grow beards, many who say the Rosary and go to confession. There are the Charismatic with their dancing and clapping and the Baptists with their sacred hymns. There are also the "Christian" extremists who have no problem taking money from the elderly via televangelism, or who bomb abortion clinics. When people who claim a similar faith as us act in what we would call an "ungodly" fashion we are embarrassed, ashamed and constantly on the defense wanting to proclaim to everyone, "But that's just SOME of us- not all of us are like that...MOST aren't!"
Isn't it interesting how the pedophile preacher, underhanded televangelist or psycho mother who claimed that Christ told her to take the lives of her children, always make the headlines? The media eats this stuff up! Why? Because it is strange and unusual and will captivate viewers or readers. It's not the norm.
And that's just it- it's NOT the norm! In the same way that these stories have affected observers off the Christian faith, the media (and dare I say even our government?) has affected the reputation of Muslims. Muslims have been in the limelight for a few years now and the media has done a fantastic job of rallying up a whole lotta distrust for an entire religious group. Guess what? I fell for it! Sure, I tried to be open- minded. I wanted to believe otherwise, but what I had been presented was just too convincing. Had I ever had a conversation with a Muslim in my life? No. Had I ever read a book about the basic beliefs of the faith? Nope. In less than a week, however I have broken a lot of the stereotypes that I came with...
The women we have met have been kind and loving. While some do wear the black burka, most that we have seen here in Turkey, wear more western clothing with colorful scarves of satin and silk tied elegantly around their heads. The men have been nothing but gentlemen. They cuddle and rock their children in restaurants and while walking. They have treated me as more of an equal that I have been treated in many of the countries I've been. Young couples walk the streets hand in hand and go on dates to restaurants and the movies. The welcoming and kind people we have met here in Turkey are about as far from terrorists as you can imagine! The Turkish Muslims that we have encountered have welcomed us Americans with the greatest enthusiasm and sincerity. They hate me no more than I hate them.

Embarrassingly, I Admit…
Our time in Turkey has been one of those blissful, life-changing experiences. It has also been a time of secret shame for me. I allowed myself to be taken as a victim of our media. I allowed myself to harbor thoughts of superiority over a huge group of people because of the propaganda that had been laid out before me. Isn't this the same sort of trickery that Hitler used to rally up support for his campaign against the Jews?
I am actually embarrassed to write all of this down. I almost didn't. But though my fingers are sweaty and slipping over the keyboard from nerves (It's a frightening thing to be really honest with yourself!) I feel that by admitting the truth I am freeing myself from this weird worry about people different than me, that I am opening myself up to new friendships and insight. I could make excuses and go on and on about all the friends I have from different ethnic groups back home, but why? My love for my Asian and Latino friends doesn't erase the sin of having prejudice thoughts about other ethnic or religious groups.
My county's people (and no, we are not the only ones doing this- but that doesn't release us from the responsibility) have de-humanized Muslims. We have made them into weirdoes or extremists or terrorist. What a shame, what a tragedy, what a fool I have been to follow along like a dumb sheep in a large herd of idiots.
Do we not belong to a nation whose own constitution states that all people are created equally? Yet at the same time, we allow ourselves to harbor feelings of superiority, claiming that we know “enough about those people to know that we don’t like them!” I have learned a lesson in Turkey that I was not really even aware that I needed to learn. How many more prejudices have been tucked away into the shady part of my brain and heart? How many more shameful admittances do I need to make? I pray that I am provided the opportunities to see my erroneous ways, to break free from the thoughts that silently stunt my growth and my ability to love others. These lessons are painful in that they so clearly display my shallowness and how short I fall from actually living my life in a manner that I claim to embrace. But as shaming as they are, I would rather freedom from these prejudices than unacknowledged bondage to them for the rest of my life. May I forever be a student in this wonderfully diverse world.

As you enter this life, I pray you depart
With a wrinkled face, and a brand new heart

I don't know if I can take it, I'm not easy on my knees
Here's my heart you can break it, I need some release, release, release

We need love and peace
Love and Peace

Lay down, lay down your guns
All you daughters of Zion, all you Abraham sons

I don't know if I can make it, I'm not easy on my knees
Here's my heart and you can break it, I need some release, release, release

We need love and peace
Love and peace

Baby don't fight, we can talk this thing through
It's not a big problem, It's just me and you
You can call or I'll phone- the TV is still on
But the sound is turned down
And the troops on the ground
Are about to dig in

And I wonder where is the love?
Where is the love? Where is the love? Where is the love?
Love and peace

"Love and Peace or Else" U2

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Photos

Posing with the Mayor
We probably shouldn't be sitting on this since it is a structure that is thousands of years old, but the Mayor insisted!

Turkish Bath Anyone?
One of the downfalls of traveling off the beaten path is that they are not exactly prepared for tourists. This hotel was the second one we checked in to in a day...you should have seen the FIRST one!

Tea in the backroom
One of the many invites to tea that we had- this one was just in a grocery store with some well-wishing employees

Starbucks Buddies
"Tell all your friends in America that we are the handomest boys in Turkey."

Comments

[Manuela]

Awsome!!!!
Awsome they have Starbucks!!!!!!Sorry, this is dum comment but i LOVE Starbucks!!!!!

[Marilyn Petersen]

Thanks
Thanks for opening my eyes about a part of the world I know nothing and had a bit of fear about. Jenny had sharred some of your blogs with me. I am interested. fell like I travel with your eyes... Finally I got on the computer and found your sight. This is my first blog experience...

[Rebecca]

Lead our Country, Please
I have realized reading your blogs, that with your understanding, empathy and level-headedness, I would absolutely trust you two to run this country of ours - I believe to the improvement and enrichment to us all. I throw my joyful heart into the hope that the upcoming week finds you more rested, fulfilled, proud of yourselves and filled with hope. Y'all are my heroes.

[angel]

Starbucks
cool they have starbucks Wow!:)

[Patty]

Rumi
You might want to check out the poems of Rumi. (His tomb is in Konya, Turkey)

[kristina]

oops!
I can't believe I neglected to post a thought on this beautiful collection of Turkish instances...I loved most the rudimentary exchange of symbolic gifts between the women of the field and you guys...scratchy poppies, adoringly laid at your feet, then reciprocated by a couple pieces of fruit. All each of you had, given with great intention, a lingering reminder of a positive experience for both givers, in an exchange that may never have happened, may never happen again. Poetry. I love you.