Istanbul delights.

East meets West is cliche — so how about this? If Europe and Asia were kissing, the Bosphorus would be their swapped saliva. Actually I feel less of the Asian influence and more of the Middle Eastern though certainly Westernism is dominant. I’ve only been here for a few days, but I have this overwhelming sense that Turkey is a key to helping the West and Islam carry on a useful conversation. Of course, as anywhere the press focuses on extremes — at the opening today of a new anti-American Turkish film on the Iraq war a U.S. diplomat was quoted as saying it “does not purport to be a factual version of events” while an exiting moviegoer was quoted as saying it “should make Americans see why the world doesn’t like them” — but this ignores the majority between the poles. Turkey — perhaps Istanbul only, so I generalize — has a proud tradition of multicultural tolerance and is especially proud of its merger of Western notions of spiritual freedom and Islam. One colleague here described it to me as a “pre-secular secularism.” That is, a tradition of religion being between one’s self and god that pre-dates the various massive religious institutions that have called Istanbul home.

Meanwhile, the Muslim world ignites over cartoons of their prophet and the West hoists the standard of free speech. At least one member of the Turkish administration has voiced concern that freedom of speech has limits. Not having travelled extensively here and knowing that Turkey has had its share of bomb-wielding idiots I can’t say I know what the populace thinks. Still, I think the mostly-happy symbiosis of occidental outlook and Muslim mores bears study as the world struggles to figure out how to to de-escalate tensions.

Two days ago I spent most of my time at the Topkapı Sarayı, palace of the Ottoman sultans from 1465 to 1853. It is an interesting complex, so much more human-scale than the Forbidden City in Beijing, though the similiarities and timeline of the twilight of the Ottoman and Qing empires is interesting to consider together. By far the most visited section of the palace is the harem. Empty, of course, the harem still captivates imagination. Almost like softcore porn, the empty rooms titillate with what might have been.

The museum halls are well done. Small selections or jewels, arms, and gifts from foreign potentates make up the majority of the collection. There is s special hall devoted to religious icons. The irony is that I had only just finished noting the Catholic obsession with saintly body part idolatry when we stumbled on the holy relics hall. There I saw pieces of the prophet Mohamed’s beard, his tooth, and a foot imprint. For a religion so faithfully non-representational (see cartoon furor) this seemed all very odd to me. There was also a letter from Mohamed to the Copts (Egyptian Christians) entreating them to join his tribe and faith and, stranglely, a gold-encased severed arm of John the Baptist. In the relic room a müezzin sat in a glass-enclosure like a UN translator and sang lines from the Koran.

One of the highlights were talismanic tunics covered in the tiniest Arabic script I’ve ever seen. Entire books from the Koran had to be inscribed on a single shirt. An impressive and literal embodiment of the holy word. Word made flesh, so to speak.

Once out of nature I shall never take
My bodily form from any natural thing,
But such a form as Grecian goldsmiths make
Of hammered gold and gold enamelling
To keep a drowsy Emperor awake;
Or set upon a golden bough to sing
To lords and ladies of Byzantium
Of what is past, or passing, or to come.
– WBY

I’m headed to Istanbul for work next week. My first time there. I’ve yet to meet anyone who has visited and not been bowled over by the place. Having travelled extensively in Europe and moderately in the Middle East and being a lover of nearly everything Mediterranean I am more than a little excited. I’m still trolling for tips on things to do. I’ll have an entire day to myself and I plan to make the most of it. For one, I’ll be searching for an authentic Turkish bath house — a task made a little easier because of some tips I received at the Turkish consulate today.

And there you have a key difference between the Turkish consulate and its Egyptian and Chinese counterparts. The Egyptian consulate (at least in Chicago) verily prints money from travellers with their bizarre fee structure and impersonal, single bank teller-like operation. The Chinese consulate, in contrast, is massive and patrolled (currently against Falun Gong protesters). Remarkably the Chinese have brought all the splendor of Maoist architecture to the interior of their Chicago offices. By the time you reach the window you’re ready to be collectivized. And do not mess with the schoolmarmish window attendant. I believe you will lose your pinky for doing so. (I wonder if consulates, like DC embassies, are technically on foreign soil and obey foreign laws?)

But the Turkish consulate was different. Open, airy, and not unlike a travel agent office. The clerk greeted me personally and led me to his office to fill out the paperwork. The detail so craved in other visa applications seemed secondary. I figured I would have to pay an expedite fee just to get my visa (and passport!) back on the day I left. But he asked if I would like it back at noon. Regular cost. Hey sure.

When I returned later in the day the clerk asked me to have a seat and tell me why I was going to Turkey. (I had no time, but I did anyway.) He was the nicest old guy, giving me tips and telling me that, unlike Chicago cops who love to ticket out-of-towners — he specifically said people from Wisconsin — Istanbul cops love foreigners. In retrospect I think he was either encouraging me to commit a crime in Turkey or testing to see if I was a criminal seeking asylum in his country. From this discussion came the Turkish bath recommendation. Not a tourist bath house, mind you, but where the locals go. No English spoken.

Perfect. Just what you want when surrounded by naked men.

Joey, have you ever been to a Turkish prison?