the Wright way: make a separate blog post because it was so amazing. no, i did not forget about Istanbul. how could you say that?
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There's never enough time to finish everything I want to. For that, I'll always feel guilty.
Unfinished sketches, thoughts, songs, unfinished poetry, stories, bars of chocolate, cups of tea, naps, movies, moments, goodbyes...
does anyone else feel like that?
Anywho, highlights from Turkey:
There is way too much about this place to summarize. The only way I'll be able to explain it is in small glimpses, similar to how we take note of the world around us.
Upon arriving, we realized that we were actually in the Asia side of Turkey [Turkey is in both Asia and Europe]. Our lovely bus driver and his wife drove us over a huge bridge to the other side. Because of the weather and time of day, we were unable to see much of the skyline. We were distracted by the neon blue of the bridge we were crossing, and the Turkish pop music playing in the bus, anyway.
How cool was it that the Spice Market and Grand Bazaar was within walking distance of our hotel? I have honestly never seen any place like it. You can haggle down anyone you want, for anything you want, by any means you want. We made some odd friends [unintentional of course], I got a marriage proposal from a Turkish spice man who named me "Maria," dogs tended to follow us around, and the smells were phenomenal.
During the trip, some of us visited the Turkish Baths. We found a shop in the Grand Bazaar that sold the same towels that the bath house used, and some people bought them. What a salubrious way to remember a large Turkish man/woman rubbing down your naked body.
Our hotel absolutely beat when it came to views. When we went for dinner there, the floorplan told us to climb to the roof. There we found plenty of typical Turkish fare, and a beautiful view of both Hagia Sophia and the Blue Mosque. Every morning we woke up to breakfast with the mosques.
We quickly dove into Turkish [and non-Turkish] traditions. Ismet, a carpet merchant who has known Eric for his entire academic career, disclosed a lot of helpful information concerning the dishonesty in the markets, the antiquity of Turkey, and the people and traditions that keep the city of Istanbul alive. We shared stories, meals, and our fortunes with him [Ismet can predict the future through the remnants of your turkish coffee], and were given a rare opportunity to see his collection of fine, old, new, ragged, damaged, simple, intricate, traded, machine and handmade Turkish carpets. A few students dropped some coin and made a carpet from Ismet their souvenir of the trip, something they'll treasure as the time between that day in the carpet bazaar and the present grows. I think it also helped to reinforce our relationship with Ismet's company, establishing Eric's legacy there.
Helping to repair a carpet I ended up purchasing. There were some burnt patches, so I went through a few boxes of extra string to find matching colors [that rose color was a problem. Who could even PINK of using it in a weave?]. The patterns are different on both sides, representative of a tribe of Northern Turkey. It used to be a wheat-carrying device, hand-woven in the 1880s.
Istanbul is somewhere I would never had thought to visit. In the back of my mind, I wanted to know about the Muslim culture because my friend Alan comes from a solely Turkish background, and he practices the religion. He also has an obnoxious Turkish flag covering an entire wall of his house, filtering all the musical equipment in the room a rich, blood red color. I bet he'd be impressed to know that the symbolism of the moon and star isn't foreign to me anymore.
There was a lot of "Strolling Through Istanbul" going on throughout that week, the times when I was completely focused. I love antiquity and ruins. Eric and Marina accidently found a staircase leading to the roof of a han, which of course we scaled. The passages throughout the complex created a sudden hush for me and my thought processes. All of the thoughts of "I'm freezing... i'm very cold... did my toes fall off? What time is it? Where are we? Is that another cat?" completely shut off. I was inside a structure made for someone else, one that was sympathetic to the surrounding ones, connected to a courtyard, had stairs and doors leading everywhere and anywhere... and a rooftop view that literally took my breath away. The wind was that strong.
This was one of my deepest moments of self-reflection. What am I doing here? Do I deserve this opportunity? I was getting worried that efforts to show me the world through specific design and historical-oriented lenses was becoming a waste of time. There were twenty students chosen to leave the country. I was one of them. And I do belong here.Being the coffee addict that I am, I'm always up for finding new ways to achieve my caffeine overdose [God knows, I'll be investing in some Crest Whitestrips when I get back to the states]. I was actually warned at the restaurant that I wouldn't like the Turkish Coffee they offered because it was for refined tastes. Curious [and feeling challenged], I tried the coffee anyway. I figured if they serve it as a menu item, it's nothing bad. This cultural unfamiliarity "makes my socks go up and down," as Michelle, my professor at CUA, would say.
The coffee was very tiny, and impressively delicious. I'm getting used to this whole "shot glass" style of coffee now, though Starbucks and my associated "gold card" still hold a place in my heart. The Turkish coffee, though, was rich and thick like a hot chocolate, and has about a quarter of an inch of coffee "sludge" at the bottom. Apparently if you read the sludge, you can predict someone's fortune.
I know what you're wondering.... yes I tried to eat the sludge. It was kind of dry.. like trying to eat wet ash.
One of the coolest things we did as a small group was visit a waterpipe bar. As we medicated our stressed-out selves with some tea and smoke, we also designed a 17-sided mosque complex, complete with 15 minarets, a frontal, receded courtyard, tons of floor changes, and a huge front gate.
After that, I walked over to the next room where some of my other peers were, and found they were trying to talk with a Turkish rock band. They gave us a free CD and I got to jam with the lead guitarist. What a night.
As I said before, one of the most charming things associated with mosques is the antiquity and the small pieces that become dilapidated, if only by frequent use.
The Sultan Beyazit Camii is something worth taking note of. It reminds me of the Velveteen Rabbit, really. Something that is so loved and obviously valued, somehow holds onto something very lonely. I loved the half-domes complimenting the full dome in the center of the mosque. The bouncing ceilings started making me think deeply about the geometries involved in the space, and how they could be manipulated to create a similar effect.
This mosque took my breath away.
There is something in placing yourself in the middle of history. With the context achieved, time becomes the main focus. This mosque has stood for more than 500 years. The complex within which it establishes itself dates back to the 16th century, as well. There is a lot of memory within those walls. There is memory everywhere in Istanbul. You can simply feel it.
I have to go back.
This isn't a choice.
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