Abhinav Banerjee

TRAVEL AARATRIKA 2018 Of Moments of Transcendence in Turkiye… (Handing passport) "Hos Geldiniz" Thus welcomed me the immigration officer to Turkey — with a smile to boot! Relief filled me all over, for a more opportune sign of assurance there never was… I was at Sarp — a little town on the Black Sea, and one of the two commonly used overland border crossing points between Georgia and Turkey — having spent the last two and a half weeks gallivanting around the former. While you do certainly get the luxury to indulge in some serendipitous backstreet neighbourhood wandering with that kind of time at hand, trouble is, you also end up getting a little too comfortable — in that I now pretty much knew my way around things and had sort of begun to get inside the head of the average Georgian; and that was a problem, because I was now about to enter another country, and was, out of sheer inertia, dreading having to unlearn everything I had just picked up, and relearn a whole new set of cultural codes (which is what a traveler I would assume sets out seeking to do in the first place, but oh well… there are ironies difficult to wrap one's head around). trip — do look it up), Samsun (fresh from an infrastructure boost having played host to the Summer Deaflympics Games in 2017), and with the bluish-turquoise waters of the sea making intermittent appearances; it then turned to move into the hinterland, and now it was all about the golden brown hills, windmills, and copious sunflower fields of the summertime Central Anatolian landscape, which continued all the way till reaching the Turkish capital city of Ankara. All through the way, many a mosque loomed into view; and I realized that, in Turkey, you could be forgiven for thinking every mosque looks like the iconic Blue Mosque of Istanbul — that happens to be the Ottoman template for building them. It was in the wee hours of the night that the 'Metro Turizm' bus left Batumi, and arrived at the border in Sarp less than an hour later. All passengers alighted to pass through immigration, while the bus got into a queue of its own to undergo screening itself. My transition was a breeze (had put together so many documents to supplement the e-visa — wasn't asked for one!), and only on getting past the border could I truly appreciate the wonderful setting of the checkpoint — Sarp was on a bend along the Black Sea Coast Road, and (now) from the Turkish side of the border, I could see the last Orthodox Church on the Georgian side, and the first blue lit Ottoman style mosque over hither; and all this while, the vast singular expanse of the sea lay before us with its waves crashing against the rocks uniformly on both sides (what was it they said about borders and man-made constructs again?). For the next many hours, the bus kept hurtling through the Black Sea Coast road, passing by the towns of Rize, Trabzon (not very far from which is the fascinating bird whistling village of Kuskoy, a pity to have to miss on this At first sight, Ankara might come across as a nondescript city — and true, aesthetically, it does not so much as hold up a torch to the magnificence of Istanbul; but there is a reason it has been chosen as the administrative capital — among other things, for the fact that it houses the Central Anatolian and Mediterranean Museum, the Military Museum, as well as 'Anitkabir' — the mausoleum of Mustafa Kemal Ataturk — whom Turkey owes its very existence as a sovereign, independent state to. Perched above a mound, this Lincoln Memorial-esque edifice overlooks much of Ankara city and is frequented by locals, worshippers, and visitors alike. 49 AARATRIKA 2018 TRAVEL The Kalesi, or castle, of Ankara is in the old part of town — standing tall and towering since centuries, and having borne witness to rulers from the Byzantine, Ottoman to the Seljuk and Roman empires — and offers some of the best views of the cityscape from its unrivalled position as the city's highest vantage point. Ankara's old town holds the allure of an aging man of immense wisdom, treasuring a lifetime's worth of stories and experiences across generations. Rampant construction and modernization may take over large swaths of town, but the parts that really hold character stand out with an assertion that cannot be overturned or wished away. Ankara is also home to the elite and most erudite of the country, while also being the cultural and artists' hub — the areas of Beypazari and Hamamonu being some of the hotspots. Gastronomically too, Ankara served as a great 50 orientation to the food scene — from food chains such as HD Iskender and SR Doner, to the hole-in-thewall kebap makers; and it does not take long to realise that the quality of meat in Turkey is hard to beat. I found my favourites in the Iskender and Adana Kebaps. More thrilling though is the mezze platter that accompanies the meal, and to make it even better — if that was even possible — pair it with the most heavenly, frothy homemade buttermilk 'Ayran' served in a tall glass. An overnight bus ride brought me next to the village of Goreme, the centre of the famed region of Cappadoccia. It is known for its surreal rock formations of volcanic origin, fairy chimneys, and underground cave homes which, until as recently as 2013, were actually inhabited by people, before they were rehabilitated by the government in order to give these parts the care they require as an ancient (now designated UNESCO World Heritage) site. In fact, one of the thrilling and memorable parts of being here is actually getting to stay in an underground cave room of a heritage hotel! At the crack of dawn, several hot air balloons ascend for people to be able to take in the magic of the lunar-esque landscape from above. Taking the balloon however struck me as a touristy, pricey, and more of a couple-y thing to do, and I was more than content with the views from hiking up to the highest point in the area. Among other sites around that evoke awe are the Pigeon Valley (tiny homes carved out of rock chimneys for pigeons that are aflutter in the valley), the Derinkuyu Underground City (going nine levels underground with ventilation tunnel columns supplying air till the maximum depth of 60m), the rock cut Uchisar Castle, and the Ihlara Valley Canyon (with the Selime monastery, the frescoes on which are still discernible). TRAVEL AARATRIKA 2018 its name from the land itself!) conical dome of the museum complex is unmissable from any part of town. His mausoleum is accompanied by a gallery housing his various possessions and relics, as well as of the Seljuk rulers of his time from the 13th-14th century, including Mevlevi caps and turbans, cloaks, delicately calligraphed copies of the Koran, to name a few. There are also mannequins and life size figures depicting the various stages of initiation people go through in order to be inducted into the Mevlevi order. Before heading to the Turkish Mediterranean (aka, the Brits' summer holiday spot of choice) and the other well-trodden parts of Turkey, I wanted to make a quick stop at Konya — home and final resting place of the Afghan-born Sufi poet and saint, Mevlana (or Maulana) Jalal ud-din Rumi. Those who have cared to read some of my earlier travelogues would have noticed a common pattern of, first, a (relatively obscure) place catching my fancy starkly enough for me to plan on going; second, my asking around for information and peoples' thoughts, and being disappointed upon receiving vehement dissuasion and being issued words of caution based on hearsay; and third, my coming close to calling off the plan owing to cold feet yet still going, and coming back victorious having had the best time and with a mission to denounce every false claim that tried to put me off. Konya is no aberration in this regard. Having heard everything from the innocuous "Whatever for?? There's nothing to see — it's the most conservative town in all of Turkey…" to dire ones like "You want to put your life at stake, sure go ahead…", I kept steadfast faith in my decision of going. Rumi alone is perhaps reason enough for a visit — with his words continuing to stir up the deepest of emotions and resonating profoundly with millions worldwide even today. A revered scholar and one of the holiest figures in all of Islam, his relics and remains are enshrined at the Mevlana Museum here. The turquoise (a colour that derives I was even further elated upon learning that that very evening, there was to be a Semaa of the Whirling Dervishes of the Mevlevi order within the museum complex. I had certainly hoped to see them while in Turkey, but seeing them at a commercial show in Istanbul is different from seeing them at the shrine — which also happens to be the very fount of the practice — keeping its sanctity intact. With time at hand before the semaa later in the evening, a city bus hop 30 minutes out of town got me to Sille — an idyllic village by a gently passing stream, and restored in the recent past for touristic purposes. Many restaurants, cafes, and shisha cafes operate with outdoor seating replete with Ottoman style chairs, all making for a charm very evocative of an era gone by. 51 AARATRIKA 2018 TRAVEL to invoke the Almighty's blessings. The dervishes, initially having draped black cloaks, came out of them a little while later to reveal robes of white — all but the sheikh, whom the disciples came forward to touch one after the other, and who embraced them back and set them off to commence whirling. The music, which was limited to a free rhythm vocal recitation of verses and a soft strumming, picks up at this point, with all instruments — most noticeably the percussion — playing in unison. The spectator can do little else than gaze transfixed, with all cognitive faculties and processes also immersed in the infinitude of the moment. There occur a few rounds of this before the sheikh himself joins in the dance just before conclusion and then closes the semaa with a final prayer recited by him; the dervishes walk back in their black cloaks after a final bow to the spectators. No person is to clap their hands any time during or at the end of the performance, and perhaps rightfully so, for it undermines the true essence of the ceremony. Back in Konya city by early evening, I waited a couple of hours for the gates to the museum to open for the semaa. As dusk fell, the lights on the museum building came on, making it look more resplendent than ever. The moon too was a fitting and slender crescent. Before long, the semaa started with the orchestra taking its place first — comprising instruments such as the 'ney' (flute), 'qanoon' (plucked zither), and 'kudum' (drums), among others — followed by the mevlevi disciples entering in a slow and sure footed gait, their arms crossed and resting on their shoulders. Multiple rounds of bowing to the spectators as well as to their 'Chelebi' / 'Sheikh' (leader) followed, which reiterated the fact that what was to follow was not a show in anticipation of audience hoots and applause, but a deeply spiritual practice meant singularly 52 I may take forever to process the true extent of what I had beheld; but one thing I knew — I was a changed person after this, like we all are after such epochal moments that rewire our brains such that we never see things the same way again. Why else would the otherwise enticing Mediterranean seaside seem almost cacophonic and discordant with my being immediately after this?! There were plenty of other highlights to follow across the rest of my Turkish sojourn, but this evening stands out distinctly even among them. Put Konya on your itineraries, I urge all… Abhinav Banerjee