istanbul

it was a beautiful morning when we touched down in istanbul. i will always remember the first time i caught a glimpse of the blue mosque. we were in a taxi when i first saw the tips of the mosque's domes as they stood over walls, houses and trees, standing at attention, guarding people, guarding faith. the blue mosque is the one of the only mosques with six minarets as opposed to the usual four spires a mosque would have. with baroque richness in it's tiled patterns and an equally stunning history, we stood in the courtyard before the majestic mosque and listened as their calls to prayer began. i could not understand the words, i could not understand what it meant. and yet, as i watched women murmur along in prayer, as i watched men lay out their prayer rugs and began to kneel, somehow i understood the same dedication to faith, passion and love, though from a different root to mine. 

we wrapped scarves over our heads, removed our shoes and slowly took in the beauty of the architectural marvel we were standing in. the soft sound of the padding of bare feet on carpet, the awed whispers and talking in hushed undertones. the sight of tens of thousands of handmade ceramic tiles and kaleidoscopic glass-stained windows enveloped each curve and bend of the interior of the mosque. lights. a ceiling that kissed the sky. you could look up forever.

as we left, many men stopped us on our way out for a cruise along the bosphorus strait. next time, i told them. women in colourful headscarves told me to stop by a hamam. next time, i told them. i was afraid of all those promises i made. i silently wished i would come back, soon.

we found ourselves wandering through a bazaar of intricately woven rugs, ceramics, spices and the hauntingly beautiful hum of turkish music. charms of thousands of evil-eyes were hung on display outside the shops in the bazaar in the form of tiles, magnets and jewellery. the belief is that the evil eye is donned to protect oneself from evil, harm and danger. i was told that it only works when you give it as a gift to someone else, and not bought for yourself. the blue-glassed irises watched on. the cold was biting our fingers as evening fell and a chilly blanket settled over the city of istanbul. we sat in a cafe for cups of hot apple tea and turkish coffee to warm ourselves up. it was an experience to delight in a city of rich culture and tradition. in a city where the freshest and hugest pomegranates i've ever seen are pressed for juice, where shoeshiners squat in the streets with rows of colours of polish for every shoe you'd ever own, where even the wafting smell of skewers of kebabs are tingling with spices and where towers of fat cubes of turkish delight sit, waiting for a sweet ending, i found sincerity. i found authenticity. i found humility.

until the next.