Fallen Empires...

So I spent last Saturday hosting an old friend who was in Istanbul for the weekend. It was great. I got to enjoy all of the tourist spots and see some of the places I hadn't been in a few years.

I was almost moved to tears when I walked into the Hagia Sophia this time. It's just stunning.

We used the afternoon to check out the Old Book Bazaar, and I had no idea I was about to find my new favorite shop in the world.

I was browsing outside of all the shops when I looked at a random little basket in the corner. It was filled with coins. 

I picked up a handful and realized what they were. It was a huge collection of international and expired coins.

Needless to say... I was excited...

My Haul

From R to L: 2.5 Old Turkish Lira (1972), 5 French Francs (1972), 1 Italian Lira (1956)

From R to L: 1 UK Shilling (1957), 10 Israeli Acorot (unknown year - no Hebrew here), 1 Russian Ruble (1997), 5 Swiss Rappen (1952)

From R to L: 500 Iranian Rials (1953), 1 Indian Rupee (1999), 100 Bahraini Fils (1995), 5 Chinese Yen (can't read the year...)

 These are my favorite coins:

Top Row, R to L: 5 Cypriot Mils (1972 - note the Greek and Turkish), 5 Soviet Kopek (1987)
Bottom Row, R to L: 50 Bulgarian Stotinki (1974), 10 Yugoslavian Dinar (1983), 20 East German (DDR) Pfennig (1974)

AWESOME, right??

So I go to buy the coins and the shop owner starts showing off his other goods. Turns out he is a fantastic guy.  And he has some fantastic stuff. 

Like...

The Neatest Bills 

10 German Deutschmarks from 1920 (as in, this is the type of bill Germany was ordered to pay for World War I with)
20 Hungarian Pengö from 1941 (this bill is from the Kingdom of Hungary, pre-Communist regime. All time favorite currency. The art nouveau style is exquisite and the art in amazingly detailed)

The Strangest Bill 

.25 Libyan Dinar (unknown date - definitely printed under the Ghaddafi regime)

The Craziest Bills

From T to B: 2 Afghani bill (they are actually called Afghanis - the bill says it's from 1962, I'm not convinced),
25 Iraqi Dinar (unknown year, presumably before 2003),
1000 Iranian Rials (again, unknown date)

500 Russian Rubles (a large, beautiful bill from 1918. This bill was issued by the Russian Tzar, but would have been ciculated in the Soviet Union. Crazy, eh? Also note the watermark on the blank left side. Awesome.
100 Russian Ruble "Katerina" bill from 1910 (Insane. This humongous bill has a perfect watermark of the portrait of Catherine on the blank right side. And the detail is incredible. Sheesh...) 

I was pretty happy as I left that shop.

And I'll definitely be going back. 

O The Places You'll Go...

Wanna know where I've been recently?

Outside the ruins of Miletus...

Inside them... 

And above them... 

In awe of Didyma... 

Completely in love with Aphrodisius... 

Finding myself not afraid in a field of wheat... 

Loving the foreground and background of what I'm seeing... 

Enjoying the cold sunset in Laodecia... 

Entering the gates of Hieropolis... 

Trying to soak up the beauty of the calcium deposits and hot springs in Pamukkale... 

 Wishing I had my trunks for Cleopatra's Pool...

Breaking stereotypes in Cappadocia...

(and I thought they only had mosques in hot weather places) 

Comparing models and the real thing in Capadoccia... 

Tying a knot onto the prayer tree... 

Days of the Future-Past...

I gave the following devotion to the group of Friday.

Past - Future - Present

Past
Think back to that far way time: 2011. Remember  yourself innocently. Think of where you were.

-You were home. Soaking up your last few days in America.

-You had no idea what you could get for just two Lira.

-You didn't know the taste of fresh kebap.

-You had no idea what roasted chestnuts smell like. Or how annoying that smell could be.

-You had never seen the majesty of Justinian's great church.

-You hadn't heard the call to prayer minutes apart from church bells.

-You had no idea what "bomba gibiyum" or "lavabos nerede?" meant. Or how useful they would be.

-You probably had no idea what the inside of a mosque actually felt like.

-Or what Syriani church services were like.

-Or how hilly Istanbul really is.

-You hadn't seen the fire in a Turk's eyes when they talk about politics.

-Nor the slow measured words used when other words like "Armenian" or "Kurd" come up.

You've come far! 2012 has been an eventful year! You should be proud of how much you have been blessed to see in two weeks. But, before we continue.
Think back to 2011 again. Remember what you were actually feeling like on January 5th? You weren't focused on January 5th, you were thinking about where you would be on January 7th! Us Westerners are trained to focus-on-the-future.

Future
Speaking of the future, lets try another thought experiment. Clos your eyes and picture this:
-Golden. The sunset reflects off of the sea. Birds fly by and cry out against the ocean wind. You're surrounded by beauty - but Izmir is known for its beauty. [Izmir]
-Now imagine a stone amphitheater. You can see a Roman path to your right and the ocean in the distance. The marble is warn out and chilly - but it's alive. Long ago, a man from Tarsus orated his letter in this very theater. Can you hear his words? "And now you Gentiles have also heard the truth, the good news that God saves you. And when you believed in Christ, he identified you as His own - by giving you the Holy Spirit, whom he promised long ago." [Ephesus]
-Now imagine a strange ceremony. It's religious, and somehow relatable, yet it's untouchable. It's bizarrely romantic. It seems totally normal that one of the most famous poets would find many muses here. [Konya]
-Now imagine silence. Warmth. Laughter. The beach. Relaxation. Refreshment. Slow-ness. [Antalya]
-Now imagine rock. Lots of rock. But imagine soft rock - not like Enya or Sting or Ray LaMontagne - like easily malleable. So easily malleable there are caves all around. Interconnected caves. Cities, even. All underground. Now imagine going into one of these caves and looking up to see a dome decorated with paintings of Mary, Jesus, and many angels - then, you realize that this is a church - an actual, ancient, underground church. [Cappadocia]

OK, open your eyes.
Sounds good, doesn't it?
But don't get too carried away just yet. These next two weeks could be really hard. You could be sick of that person who snores on the bus. You could be sick of buses in general. You could just be sick. You could be experiencing your first wave of homesickness. The future is totally unknowable - and it's impossible for us to live future-oriented.
Eventually, our future-oriented emotions - excitement, nervousness, anxiety, fear - they all run out. They hit their expiration dates. Or, you become so enraptured with them that you forget what it's like to live without them.

Present
So, this is a challenge.
To me as much as it is to you - to live in the present. To dwell on what the call to prayer means for you right now. To commit that Turkish to memory instead of flushing it our of your head. To think about your friends on the streets of Istanbul, and not the ones on the streets of Santa Barbara. To talk with the person in this room who you still don't know. To look at the people on Istiklal - not the ground or the buildings, but the people. To get a Turk to tach you backgammon. To see how present God is in this room - and out in the streets.

I'm going to play a song , and for the five minutes it's playing, just live in the present. Be with your thoughts. Find meaning in the words, or just listen to the melody. But shed yourself of anything regarding excitement or worry about the future or longings for the past, and just be here.

This is the song I played:

Snow

I am watching snow fall silently upon the streets of Istanbul. The Silence of Snow… Thanks for giving that meaning, Pamuk. My typing is the only thing that can be heard apart from the occasional Turkish murmuring. You see, the snow and heavy rain has cut the power in this little café. The refrigerator, the kahve grinder, the oven – it’s all off. Powerless. Silent. These snowflakes are the biggest I’ve ever seen. They fall hard and fast, but their impact is totally unseen among the much more present rain.

The dance of this storm is quite like listening to a symphony. It will increase in speed and size; snowing hard and quick. Then, suddenly, it will slow to almost a strolling pace. Just a slight reminder of the bitter cold above.

The Bosporus is totally indistinguishable from the clouds and fog. And Asia is completely invisible. It is over there. On the other side of that bridge in the distance, that now looks like it ends midway over the water. Only a few miles from the other continent, and yet it feels as far away as if I were back in North America.

Without making a sound, the snow has separated continents, tamed the busyness of the city, and muzzled the bustling noises of 18 million as they stand and watch.

How can one not love the snow?

Incense and Rose

We timidly entered the foyer. Our whispers, despite our best efforts, still reverberated off the cold and gray marble. Should we go in? The priest is singing Vespers. How improper would it be to go in now? I don’t know…

Then, we were startled by a loud thud as the door behind us closed. We looked at the shorter, dark-haired man heading our way. “Tamam? Acık?” We asked with our teeny knowledge of Turkish. “Evet. Evet” He replied and threw open the huge church doors.

The sound of vocal harmony flooded our ears as the grandeur of the sanctuary was revealed.  Gold. Marble. Limestone. Silver. Massive columns and portraits. All twelve apostles numbered among uncountable Saints. The song, totally in Greek, meant nothing to us, except it was gorgeous. The divinity of the words was impossible to miss, despite not knowing more than 10 Greek words.

But all of those senses paled in comparison to the most unmistakable marker that you are now in the presence of the Almighty: Incense filled every corner as we sat, and prayed, in the Aya Trinada Greek Orthodox Church.

-

Our pace noticeable slowed as we stepped through the large, foreboding gates garnished with gilded Arabic calligraphy. Ok, do I take my shoes off now? Or should I wait. It’s Friday, should I go in yet, or will I be shooed out during prayer? I don’t know…

Then, suddenly. Keaton opened the canvas flap into the mosque. He immediately found the face he was looking for. “Hello! Merhada, Ibrahim!” The aged, mustached groundkeeper smiled wider than seemed possible. “Hudson! Hudson!” Ibrahim greeted Keaton in the traditional Turkish way, but did it as if he was seeing his grandson again. Throwing open his arms, he did the same to Peter and I.

We were given a tour of the impressive Tophane mosque. The intricate painted tiles shone in the dim lights. Medallions with massive Arabic words proudly presented the names of those holy forerunners. The only sound were the occasional mumble of prayer and Ibrahim’s proud voice explaining, in some twisted Turkish-German-English the incredible history of the building. We were then left at the back sitting in awe of the domes, arches, and friezes left by Mimar Sidan.

But all of those sensed paled in comparison to the most unmistakable marker that you are now in the presence of the Almighty: Ibrahim returned with a bottle of rose water and filled our cupped hands as we sat, and prayed in the Ali Paşa Mosque.

Tabula Rasa...

Well. 

One week ago I stated to be lost and enraptured in a sense of Wonder. I'm not sure I was aware of how I would be completely unable to be in any other way! 

 The past week has been spent prepping for the students to come for their semester. After all, this is THEIR semester, not mine. You see, I thought that I knew Istanbul kinda-well. Like I had some bearing on what it was like. Perhaps I was 50% integrated into what this city was like. 

Try 10%. Maybe. 

 My first encounter was to wander - just a bit - to try to get my bearings a little on my first morning. Not only was I completely wrong on where I thought I was, I had no clue at all as to where I was or where I would be going. Combine that with the fact that I had 0 internet access in my flat, and I was very thankful that the other leaders were coming to find ME, and not the other way around.
 After breakfast and some walking, something hit me. I had seen absolutely nothing of what we were experiencing on that walk. When I was here last, I had spent the entire week on the other side of the Golden Horn (in Sultanahmet for you Istanbullions). I was in completely uncharted territory. Sweet :) So, being three steps behind where I thought I was; it became clear that it was time to follow, and not try to lead at'all. This was wise. For some reason, I can get around European/Middle Eastern cities with no problem once I can map them out a bit - completely contrary to American urban centers. 

After about three days of relying totally on a map and others to guide me through the 20 minute walk from my flat to the rest of the group, I think that I've got it down. I think. 

 This week was filled with meetings. The language institute we're using. The university where we will be staying. The many wonderful people already here supporting our crazy little idea. Basically days were: 

 -Walk the city. Get bearings. Revel at street art. 

-Meeting for breakfast - dicuss plans, current state of our idea, current state of Turkey - drink Turkish tea.

-Walk. Get bearings. Ride form of public transport. Marvel at the how gorgeous and new every bus/tram/metro is. 

-Meeting for lunch - dicuss ideas, talk about current state of things - drink Turkish tea 

-Walk. Remember that this city is actually built on hills and makes SFO look flat. 

-Afternoon break - spent recapping at a café - drink Turkish tea 

-Walk. See the lights turn on. Try to figure out how to get places in the dark. 

-Meet for dinner - discuss at length where we are in plans, recap ideas - drink Turkish tea 

-Walk home. Pace self to not look like a tourist. Think about maybe brewing a cup of tea. 

 Last night was nearly inexplicable. I thought I was over the butterflies after I got here. The whole ride to the airport to pick up the students I was giddy.

'Seriously. This is it. It all starts now. You've prepped for a whole year for this.'

How incredible it was to see them all come through the arrivals door - with every one of the bags to boot. Now THAT'S a miracle. Bringing students to their flats was just as incredible. I was filled with joy when they opened the door and were dumbfounded at how sweet these apartments are. There was nothing like standing on the roof and looking out at the Bosphorus with the 7 names you've read too many times, prayed for over and over, and graded the papers of. That is something special. 

 Finally - and more philosophically - something truly divine happened today. Dana and I have been preparing a scavenger hunt for the students to do for today (they are all currently out in Istanbul. Wide-eyed, I'm sure). We had a time for breakfast and were all talking about the night. We were keen to see how many of them would be wrecked by jetlag. Thankfully, they all said the same thing:

"I slept great! Didn't wake up till my alarm at 9! In fact, did anyone hear the call to prayer this morning? No? Huh, I wonder what it sounds like..."

 As we were commissioning them and getting into our introduction for the semester, we took some time to pray. Out loud, the group spent about twenty minutes. It was beautiful - students and leaders alike, lifting little thoughts, concerns, and mostly praises up to the keeper of these good words. Then, suddenly, through our relative quiet, came the echoing sound of the Adhan. This gorgeous reminder that we were not alone in our prayers electrified the room. The feeling of awe from the students was palpable - even when the room had its collective head bowed. 

 It was, in a word: Mükemmel.

State Street Study...

There was He.

Middle-aged, foreign, cultured and robust.

He sat on a rigid, unforgiving wooden street-side bench. It didn't look comfortable, but He didn't seem to mind.

He was focused, intense.

His fingers flashed and rattled across the brazen guitar strings.

It was obvious that He was an expert in the field of Spanish Guitar. He was playing so vividly that a large crowd of slack-jawed bystanders began to form.

His hands continued to strum, his melodies flowed, rose, and crashed, and His smile cracked.

There was She.

Young, haughty, glamorous and busy.

She walked on extreme, unnecessary heels. They didn't look comfortable, but it was in the name of "looking good".

She was preoccupied, elsewhere.

Her voice heightened over the obnoxious noise of some guy on a bench.

It was obvious that She was an expert in the field of Haute Couture.  She was talking into her phone so loudly that a large crowd of bystanders began to stare.

Her mouth continued to run, Her words meshed, strained, and shivered, and Her pace quickened.

And there was I.

Silent, intrigued, captivated, and fascinated. 

I sat on cold, harsh metal. It wasn't comfortable, but I couldn't pull my gaze away from the art in front of Me.

I was present, enraptured.

My interest piqued as I watched a potential exchange fizzle. 

It was obvious that I was an expert in the field of Passive Observance. I was watching as She obliviously hurried by absolute beauty that a large crowd of bystanders noticed.

My thoughts continued to wander, and I debated stopping Her or paying Him, instead my ears perked, and I just kept listening. 

I'm Standing at the Crossroads, I believe I'm Sinking Down...

We stopped by Greece. Literally. Did you know it's possible to treat a country like a fast food restaurant? Cause it definitely is. We landed, got on a tour bus, drove to the Acropolis, said hi, got back on the bus, drove around, got off the bus, and hopped on another flight.

Hey, Greece.

You were pretty darn cool. Athens looks like a lot of fun. And thanks for everything, like democracy, geometry, and philosophy. We appreciate it.

Love, Westmont College Europe Semester '09

After our little Greece tour (which really was cool albeit short. I mean, we stood on Mars Hill for Gentiles' sake), we were on our way to Istanbul. Welp... goodbye Western world, hello... um... well... something else?

On the flight, I got giddy. So did Sam, Lizzy MacRae, and Megan Woods. See, we have been waiting all semester to give our city presentation, on Istanbul. Lizzy and I were in rows across from each other (Side Note: Olympic Air? Very nice. Westmont basically had a plane to ourselves. I mean, I had a whole row to myself, as did about 10 other students. They also served a meal on a one hour flight, complete with a cookie run, and two drink runs. Gotta love government subsidized airlines. Take note, America), and our eyes were glued to the windows. When Istanbul became visible through the darkness and fog, we both turned to each other. We smiled, and then simultaneously mouthed the words: "Istanbul! What the...?"

We landed in a pretty darn modern airport, and I was already taken aback. Despite reading it various times over the semester, I had somehow forgotten that Turks use a Latin alphabet. I was expecting to see Arabic calligraphy everywhere, and I wasn't. My paradigm wanted something to be there that just was not... It was weird. We took a coach to our hotel. Yes... we have hotels while we're in Turkey. As in: room-service-bringing-turn-down-service-comfortable-bed-nice-shower-in-room-TV hotel rooms. Wow... what a welcome change. I mean, don't get me wrong, the hostel thing was fun while it lasted, but Merci Dieu for hotels.

The next morning we gave our presentation. You know those dreams you have where you wake up five minutes before you have to give a big speech and you're totally unprepared? Yeah, that actually happens. I forgot that we gained an hour from Italy, and so my alarm was set to go off fifteen minutes into my presentation. Thankfully, my roommate came in 5 minutes before class and woke me up. Let's just say that I gave my parts of the speech in Kent Hotel - Istanbul slippers. Definitely bringing those things home as a souvenir.

Then, we went out to the Crossroads. See, Turkey's not quite the West... but it's definitely not the East either. It's unique. I get woken up often to the Islamic Call to Prayer (which is absolutely beautiful, by the way.), but the streets and shops here feel totally Western. It is just blatantly obvious that this is a Middle Eastern culture (as in an honor/shame paradigm, mixed with some nomadic traditions) that has fallen in love with Western culture. I have been treated SO well by the Turkish locals. Everyone wants to know where I'm from, and they will come right out and talk to you, even if English is far from natural for them. This was most evident in the Grand Bazaar.

Which has a perfect name. It's grand (it makes the Mall of America look small), and it is bizarre. The shop owners all stand outside and lure you into their shops. But they're not pushy. Italians were pushy, they'd almost guilt you into eating at their restaurant. Turks are just nice. They've got a sense of humor too. I walked by a carpet shop, and the owner looked at me and said "Let me sell you something you don't need!". I gave him a thumbs up as I walked away belly laughing. I met a really kind Macedonian who let me custom build a hookah. I'm thoroughly pleased with it. The best story comes from the jewelry shop owner though. I was hanging out with Joy in the Bazaar, partially because I didn't want her to be alone in there. It is unbelievably easy to get lost in a place that has no readable signs and where every shop looks identical. Anyway, I was just hanging with the owner ("Your name is Kurt? Like Kurt Cobain? Oh, I like Nirvana. I listen to them in high school"), while Joy shopped ("Here, sir, you sit while lady shops. It's hard when woman shops for hours. I know"). We talked for probably a half-hour about quite a bit of things, including my major ("Politics? really? Well, then maybe you can be Kurt Bush. No! Wait...Kurt Obama, that's much better."). The funniest part of the conversation went like this though:

Shop-owner (I believe his name was Ashmet, but I could be wrong, he will be referred to as "A" from now on)

A: So... how long?

Me: ... (thinking) how long? what the..? ... What do you mean?

A: How long have you been married *pointing towards Joy*?

Me: hahahaha... oh! Well, actually we're not married.

A: Oh oh, boyfriend and girlfriend?

Me: No, no... we're just friends.

A: ... Really? *looks blankly at her. Looks back at me* ... *Looks at her again. Then to me again* Just friends?

Me: Heh heh, yup just friends...

So, now the running joke is that Joy and I are married (It was really fast, I know. Heck, we can't even remember the ceremony... or the engagement, for that matter).

Anyways, back to Turkey. We have done a good amount of touring. First of all, Mosques are beautiful. Seriously beautiful. The Blue Mosque is jaw-dropping. The Haghia Sofia is a breed of it's own. It's gorgeous as a church, it's impressive as a mosque, and as both it defines the history of this place so well. The Ottoman palace was greatly impressive, but it's blatantly obvious that you have been on Europe Semester when you're in the middle of a palace and you think Eh...I've seen better. Yikes. Just yikes.

The last little anecdote begins with a pun. We were in Turkey for Thanksgiving. It was perfect cause we got a little bit of Hungary as we flew over, just got a little bit of Greece, and then had our Turkey. Thanksgiving was interesting. Our dinner was a nice attempt. We had chicken shish kabob and french fries. Almost turkey and mashed potatoes, right? The real feast was after, when 12 of us went to a hookah/tea garden. We were all around tables, just sitting, laughing, talking, and enjoying each other. I got thankful there. A little culture shock made me grateful, that's cool. If you want some more info on this event, I ended up writing an essay on it. I'm not sure it's quite what the profs want, but even if it tanks in the grade category, it's one of the best essays I've ever written.

So...

That's been Byzantium so far... er, I mean Constantinople... ummm... Istanbul. Yeah, Istanbul, that's it. That's been Istanbul so far.

When In Bruges...

Bruges.

Where?

Wait…we’re staying in Bruges, Belgium?

Alright. What the heck. Give it a whirl, eh?

See, here’s the thing (<- this has become the official Europe Semester phrase). Bruges is really cool. It’s a town. Not quite a city, but not that small either. I’m not sure that this town has recognized it’s size yet. There is a massive, and I mean massive town square in the center of town. However, it is never filled. In fact, there are always too few people there. It’s strange. It always feels a little haunted…A little empty.

The town itself is an interesting mix. I think that most of Belgian culture is this way. An odd combination of Flemish, French, and plain European vibes emanate from the people. Bruges is in the Flemish speaking section of Belgium, so my French did absolutely 0 good. But, most everyone speaks English, and recognizes me to be an American, so I get addressed in English almost always. Take, for instance, the competing fry stands under the Belfry. I got to the front of the line and the guy looks at me and says “What do ya want?”. Right after serving a German couple, and before serving some British tourists. Kind of incredible, isn’t it? So were the fries. There’s something strange about Belgium. The people seem to live on a combination of French fries, chocolate, waffles, and beer; and yet, they are surprisingly healthy. Those people know hot to live eh?

They’re pretty darn nice too. On our last day there (well, until we got back today that is. Kinda confusing, I know. We went Bruges > Paris > Normandy >Bruges), my friend Joy and I sat on a bench looking at the river because we had missed the tourist boat ride that the rest of our group got on. We were talking when the 50-something-year-old woman sitting on the bench behind us interrupted. “Excuse me? You are from America yes?” We both turned and Joy engaged her. They ended up talking for about 15 minutes before the woman asked If we would join her for a drink. She ended up buying a Belgian beer for Joy, myself, and Corey. Just because we agreed to talk to her for what turned out to be about an hour and a half. I think I like the Belgians J