Last night I went to a performance of the whirling dervishes in a waiting room at the main train station where the Orient Express used to come and go. It began with five musicians playing mournful tunes on a round-backed guitar, two flutes, a hand drum and cymbals. After 15 minutes or so the dervishes entered wearing tall felt hats and floor-length black capes over their long white skirts. They took off the capes and bowed to a priest before beginning to twirl–with their heads cocked to one side and their arms out–one palm facing heaven, the other facing the earth. Members of this Muslim sect find union with God, Love, through their spinning……

I spent the morning in two museums crammed with Turkish carpets, calligraphy and archeological relics from the nation’s ancient sites. Of note: exquisitely painted miniature maps of the known world circa 500, the Alexander Sarcophagus–a 4×8 foot carved marble tomb decorated with battle scenes on two sides and a leopard and lion hunt on the other’s, room after room of carpets from all over the middle east – some that graced palaces in Baghdad and Mosel, others from Syria and Damascus – each with repeating geometric or floral patterns in deep blues, greens and reds.One room had a dozen carpets that were at least 30 x 12 feet hung from the ceiling.
A note of synchronicity–I ran into a friend of mine from Glenwood at a restaurant last night. We’re not traveling together, and speculated if we’d see each other. Around 9 PM I turned a corner on my way to an Internet site, and there she was having dinner with her two traveling companions, Although I’ve found the Turkish men a minor annoyance (“Excuse me, where are you going?” “Sorry, where are you from?” “Excuse me, the mosque is open today,” “Excuse me, would you like a coffee?” “Excuse me, have you seen the Topkapi Palace?”), they’ve been harassed and had their butts pinched and groped. It could happen over here anywhere east of England and south of Germany, and it’s certainly a shock when it does. When it happened to my friend Nicole in the passport line at the airport, she yelled “Someone’s grabbing me and it’s not OK!” after which the man’s wife admonished him. I’m sure I’m not immune, but after living in New York for years I seem to have mastered the art of walking purposefully and not making eye contact.
Early tomorrow I leave for Gallipoli on the Aegean coast.