Last evening in Istanbul

I am such a sap. Anytime I leave anyplace that I love, I get mopey and nostalgic. Tonight is no exception. In the morning Katherine, James, and I fly down to Cairo for the next few days, and while walking through Istanbul tonight I got sad and moody. I really like Istanbul and have mixed feelings about leaving. I certainly want to go to Cairo - there are amazing things there that I want to see and experience - but I have had such a lovely time in Istanbul, it is hard to go! So instead of writing my planned blog entry about food (I'll write about that another day), I will just post these few thoughts and a photo that I took today while crossing the Bosphorus Strait.

On to the city of 1,000 minarets.....

A few thoughts on art in culture

Terra cotta oil lamp - early 6th Century BC

I wonder a lot of things. Like: Why do we have a need to leave some lasting mark on the world? A record of our existence? I don't know why this is true, but I do know that it is. Evidence of the need is all around us - it is the book that you are reading, the sculpture on your table, the graffiti on an overpass, the music you are listening to, the tombstone that marks a grave. Humans have a need to leave something behind - it is a part of culture. I know that entire books have been written on this topic, but I will share only a few thoughts from the two cultural experiences that Katherine, James, and I had today from the Museum of Archaeology and a Whirling Dervish performance. Both were exceptional examples of human-kind leaving their mark on the history of existence.

Glass vases - early 6th Century BC

Istanbul's Museum of Archaeology has a extensive collection of artifacts from as early as before 2,000 BC. A few that I especially loved were everyday objects that had been embellished in some way -- a terra cotta oil lamp that had been stamped with a design before firing -- a spoon carved from bone with little details carved into the handle -- glass vases with colored pieces wrapped around the neck -- a pottery water jug painted with vines and flowers. So many objects that were merely functional and didn't require any artistic additions to serve their intended purpose had beautiful details added to them. These little "unnecessary" additions turned a daily object into not only a record of that civilization, but also a work of art. Observing these pieces made me glad to know that people since the beginning of time have loved beautifying things. I come from a long tradition of artists in this human race who want to bring as much beauty to the world as possible! My need to create is a need that has been around for a long, long, long time. Something else I wonder: who first figured out that they could make designs in their pottery before firing them - and how did they discover it? Did they accidentally drop the leather-hard clay onto the ground and a leaf left its impression? If I had done that I would have thougtht, "Cool! Let's do that again."

One of my favorite pieces in the museum was an early cuneiform tablet from the Sumerians from around 2,039 BC. As you can see in the photo, it is the earliest record of a love poem. My hopelessly romantic self loves this piece. For one thing, I love poetry.... especially love poems. I am also very happy to know that people over 4,000 years ago were using language in an artistic form to express their love for each other -- and thinking that it was important enough to write down. Also, I am glad that the museum curators felt it was worth putting in the exhibition. Another wondering: how excited was the archaeologist who excavated this piece when they realized it was a love poem? Could they read Sumerian cuneiform?

There were so many wonderful artifacts at the museum; each one has importance and weight in the record of human civilization. But tangible objects are not the only way we leave our cultural mark on the world. Dance is another way culture is identified.

Tonight we went to a live performance of Whirling Dervishes. I had no idea what the Whirling Dervish was all about before I read the website of the cultural center before going to the performance. It is a religious ceremony that is very highly revered in the ancient Turkish tradition. I won't try to explain the symbolism of everything - I'll put a couple of links at the bottom of the post where you can read about it - it's quite extensive. I will say that the ceremony and the music are mesmerizing. And I have no idea how the dancers (the Dervishes) don't get dizzy! They twirl in circles for about 10 minutes at a time, then stop suddenly with no stumbling or swaying. The basic idea behind the dance is love, tolerance, and closeness to God. I am also putting a link to a YouTube video of a Whirling Dervish ceremony - it is not as beautiful as the one we saw tonight, but you will get the idea of the dance.

Click here for the YouTube video.
Click here for the description of the ceremony. This website is the actual venue we went to - it is a renovated Turkish bath that is now a beautiful cultural center.

Maybe I am biased, but I think that art is one of the most important records of the cultures of our world's civilizations. There are so many different groups on this planet with many varied cultures, but one of the things I love most about traveling is seeing the similarities that we share as a human race.

Here's to art!

Illuminated copies of the Koran and Allen Iverson

It was another schizophrenic day. Well, that's a little harsh - more a day of divided personalities.

This morning was glorious - clear, blue sky, warm sun, and a visit to the Museum of Turkish and Islamic Art. Islamic and Turkish art consists mainly of tile, carpet, gold/brass/silver vessels or lamps, Koran boxes and stands, and illuminated manuscripts of the Koran. There were other items as well -- pottery pieces, writing instruments, architectural elements -- but the collection of hand-written and illuminated Korans was the most extensive and beautiful that I have ever seen.

I don't know how many copies of the book were on exhibit -- maybe 150 or more -- in every size imaginable. The largest one was at least four feet tall and two feet wide -- super-large print! And the smallest fit inside a silver box no bigger than 4 inches square. All were hand-written by calligraphers who were true artists. Their strokes were perfect and their individual styles unique. I don't know how they wrote so many pages of text with no mistakes! The calligraphers worked alongside illuminators for each book who embellished the pages when the the text was complete. Such colors - and some of these dated back to the 9th Century! Cobalt blue, Cadmium orange, and gold -- yes, real gold. The copy of the Koran in this photo has lots of yellow in it -- that's painted gold! Talk about an expensive book! The amount of detail - mind-boggling minutia - put Mary Englebright's designs to shame! It must have taken days to complete just one page of these manuscripts. I have done some embellished calligraphy in the past and it about drove me nuts -- not to mention that my eyes went batty!! These books are real works of art.

And then came the evening's activities: basketball. I really don't like basketball. I know the game inside and out, but I have had more than my fill of it in my life. I don't watch it on TV. I don't play it. I just don't like it. But.....

James has been going through sports-withdrawl since leaving the States. In Georgia, the only sport that is on TV is soccer - it's on at my host families' house everyday, but I don't think it is at James's house. So he was bound and determined to find some sort of sporting event for us to go to while here in Istanbul. And he did. Tonight we took a couple of different metro lines to a stadium at the other end of the city to see two of the Turkish pro teams play. And, wouldn't you know, Allen Iverson plays for one of the teams! (For those who aren't Philadelphia sports fans, Allen Iverson played for the 76ers. I don't know what happened or how he ended up in Turkey, but "AI" is in Istanbul!)

For as much grief as I gave James about going to the game, it was fun. The lights, the crowd, the energy, the noise -- it was a good time. I was amused at the attempt at Westernization in the sports-arena with spotlights dancing around during time-outs, the attempt at cheerleaders also dancing around at time-outs, and the concession sales in the stadium. None of it was quite what we Americans are used to: they don't even sell beer! But we had a good time together among the Turkish locals. James was in heaven. After the game, we went into a bar for a post-game drink -- once we finally found one, that is! The bar was full of Turkish men and even more full of blue smoke -- there is no ban on smoking in public places here. We got a table on the second floor and had some drinks while watching a Euro-league soccer game on TV. Turkey won.

Another day of contrasts - and a little compromise! We joked around about how we had been looking at centuries-old antiquities and holy books in the morning, then watched AI argue with a ref at night! Both were cultural experiences. Both were worthwhile. But very, very different from each other! And tomorrow....who knows what it will bring?

Crazier than a .....

In the Topkapi Palace library....quiet and lovely.

All evening the phrase "Turkish bazaar" has been running though my head. Having spent the afternoon wandering around Istanbul's Grand Bazaar, it's no wonder. Trying to navigate the place is an a challenge to one's sense of direction that ends up being an exercise in futility. It is a labyrinth of merchandise and merchants and cafes and restaurants.

After spending a leisurely morning walking around the Topkapi Palace looking at the museum collection of jewels, swords, textiles, thrones, and exquisite architecture; James, Katherine, and I jumped from the sublime to the ridiculous with the next stop - the Grand Bazaar. The juxtaposition of the two places could not be more drastic. At Topkapi I could have made myself very comfortable on the cushions underneath a window in the library and read all day long - it was so peaceful and quiet.....then the bazaar -- well, it lived up to its reputation.

No more quiet, cozy spots. People, noise, color, scents, food, jostling, dodging, looking, declining, texture, light, narrow, cramped, chaotic..... my senses were overwhelmed. I call those moments "sensory overload." And that's exactly what the Grand Bazaar was....a sensory overload. There was so much packed into such tiny spaces, it was difficult to look at it all. Trying to walk at the same time made looking that much harder. Over and over again I had to stop and just look around me. I couldn't take it all in -- like my eyes wouldn't work if my feet were. I could only do one or the other: look or walk, but not both!

A very small glimpse of the chaos
that is the Grand Bazaar

The Grand Bazaar has over 4,000 vendors in residence. I don't know how much area the bazaar covers, but it's big. We only saw a tiny corner of it, yet we were there for over an hour. I could not have taken much more than that -- it was exhausting! And we weren't even shopping. I bought one scarf (a real weakness of mine) for 3 liras - that was it! I can't imagine how exhausting it would be to do any amount of shopping....especially since it's a market where haggling for a lower price is the modus operandi. Shopping that way annoys me - I am not into bargaining with the merchant. It's a game I don't enjoy playing. Just tell me how much the real price is and I'll decide if I want to pay it or not!

It was a real playground for my viewfinder and camera lens, though! I took photos of scarves, carpets, ceramics, lamps, nargile, jewelry, perfume, as well as the space itself -- narrow passages and crowded hallways that wind around in textbook disorganization.

So the Turkish bazaar does live up to its reputation. It's crazy. It's chaotic. It's unforgettable. It's a cultural experience. And I know that if any of the three of us had actually bargained for a carpet, we would have spent hours over cups of tea in the proprietor's shop while he unfolded and refolded and unfolded and refolded and threw out carpet after carpet after carpet after carpet until he found that one that was just irresistible.....

A day filled with art and books

The weather today was not very nice. It was cold and cloudy; partway though the morning it started to drizzle. But the weather actually helped Katherine and I (James wasn't feeling well today) have a lovely day filled with books and art.

Through the bouts of cold rain, we looked for places of refuge and warmth. We spent some time in a four-story bookstore (everything was in Turkish) looking at all the books and music choices. Twice we happened by art galleries with exhibits that looked inviting (as did the warm, dry space), so we went in. One was a David LaChapelle exhibit of large color prints of celebrities.....in crazy settings and another collection of incongruous combinations of natural disaster and the people who survived them. (Don't Google him if you don't like provocative artwork!) The other was a photo exhibit in the French Cultural Center. The photos were taken around Istanbul - they showed colorful depictions of various areas and events around the city. The place where we spent the most time today was the Istanbul Modern Art Museum. We saw some good exhibits - the permanent collection, a photo exhibit, and an overview of Armenian architects' works in Istanbul. But the installations......they were great! One, especially was my favorite.

"False Ceiling" by Richard Wentworth. Books, books, and more books -- hovering just a couple of feet over my head. An entire gallery was filled with these floating books. Each one was suspended from the ceiling by one string threaded through a small hole drilled into the center of the book, cover to cover. The books were hung at random angles, but close enough to each other so that they were almost touching. The covers lay on the same plane, with the front cover of each book facing the floor, and the viewer. The illusion of a ceiling created an intimate space out of the large, empty expanse of the gallery. But one of the best parts of the exhibit, for me, was the origin of the ceiling. The gallery space where the ceiling of books hung was located right next to the glassed-in museum library. The installation actually started inside the library where the stacks ended, on the same level as the top shelf, creating the illusion that the book ceiling was flowing out of the library. Standing underneath the floating books, I spent quite a bit of time looking at the titles -- some Turkish, some English -- most were books I had never heard of before. I think Richard must have gone to flea markets and bought out the box-of-books-for-a-dollar section!

Something I thought about while standing underneath the "False Ceiling" was the inaccessibility of those particular books. Books are meant to be read, but not only were these out of reach, they were also tied shut by the string. Even if I could've gotten my hands on one of the books as it floated by, I could not have opened it. So, what good is a book that isn't able to be opened?

Good for art!

(If you want to see another version of this installation, click here. It doesn't have the library-origin, though.)

Colors of Light

Have you ever stood in front of something so grand and so beautiful you can't absorb it all? You know that you are there -- physically looking at it -- but it is more surreal than real. Even if you pinched yourself, the reality of the thing of beauty would not sink in. I had that feeling most of the day today.

The Hagia Sophia ("Holy Wisdom"), built in the 530's is a structure that changed architecture forever. It was the largest cathedral in the world until the Seville Cathedral was built in Spain -- it is still big. The exterior of the church-turned-mosque-turned-museum is beautiful enough, but the real treasure is the interior. I was in complete awe the entire time I spent inside - a good two hours, I think. I wanted to cover every square inch of the space with my feet and my eyes -- everywhere I looked I saw more amazing details, and everywhere I walked changed the perspective of things so that I wanted to look at it all over again. The paintings on the walls and the mosaics and the windows were beautiful, but what captivated me about the place was the feeling of the light. It was golden -- warm and magical. The chandeliers hanging from the ceiling danced in the air just above my head, giving the impression of a low, intimate ceiling -- a ceiling of light. The amber feeling in the light enveloped me and made me feel like I was being held in a warm embrace.

Interior of the Hagia Sophia

Golden light in the Hagia Sophia

The other building I spent time in today (with Katherine and James) was the Blue Mosque. It is much newer than the Hagia Sophia as it was built in the early 1600's. The actual name of the building is the Sultan Ahmed Mosque, but it is commonly called the "Blue Mosque" because the 20,000 blue tiles and blue paint in the interior fill the space with blue light. Where the Hagia Sophia felt warm and golden, the Blue Mosque felt calm and blue. After looking around, the three of us sat beside one of the massive columns and took in the space in silence. The air had a close, quiet feel to it that made it very easy to be in an attitude of prayer. 

Interior of the Blue Mosque

James, Katherine, and I in the blue light

Colors of light. 

Gold and blue. 

Warm and calm.

It's blue, not black

The Black Sea has many, many colors, but black is not one of them. That's what I observed as we drove along it's edge for about five hours today. The range of blues and silvers and purples is more staggering in reality -- photos never show exactly what the real thing does. Regardless, here are a few pictures that show some of the faces of the sea that I saw in the last two days. 

This first photo and the following one are taken from the botanical garden in Batumi, Georgia. The garden is very large and hugs the coast line on the edge of the cliffs overlooking the sea. Katherine and I walked through part of it while waiting for James to arrive from his village yesterday. The garden has a forgotten, wild, unkempt beauty about it; Katherine called it the "Miss Havisham" of botanical gardens. Perfect description!! There are many overlooks onto the sea, and around every turn, the look of the sea was slightly different, slightly more blue or more gray from the last view.

This morning (Tuesday) I got up after a good night's sleep, and we packed up, had breakfast, and loaded into the marshutka before the sun came up. We wound our way back down the dirt road, picking up people on their way to work as we went. The sky lightened as we drove, and the steel-gray water changed to steel-blue as the day grew brighter. We got into Batumi before 9 a.m., and Mindea (our driver who we stayed with last night) took us directly to the bus station. He came into the terminal with us and got us on a bus to Trabzon that was just getting ready to leave. We thanked him profusely for everything. He told us to let him know if we ever needed a place to stay again. And we were off to Turkey.

If you look at a map, you'll see that the road from Batumi through northern Turkey runs right along the edge of the water. The road is actually cut into the side of the mountains in some places where the mountains rise right out of the sea. We went through several towns nestled into the valleys where rivers run out of the mountains to the sea. In each town, bridges spanned the river and brightly painted apartment buildings lined it. The blues from the sea bled into the river, all the way up into the snow-capped mountains, and to the clouds above.

Every time the sun went behind a cloud or mountain top, the blue disappeared out of the water, leaving only grays and dusky purples behind. But with the sun shining fully on the water, the blue reappeared.

I could only shoot from the moving bus, so I'm not entirely happy with my photos, but they show at least a little glimpse of the area and the drive.

The Black Sea was black at one point today.....at night when we flew into Istanbul!