Bougie Bursa

Bursa was the first official capital of the Ottoman Empire. Seated along the Silk Road(s), it became a major player in the silk industry. Osman Gazi, founder of the empire, is buried here.

Night view of Bursa from the bougie section.

The part of town we stayed in for two nights is quite bougie. The rich part of town. Dinner on our own led us to explore the town with a hotel recommendation, and we ended up at Kafe Pi. Walking down a sweeping set of stairs onto an outdoor patio with couches, palm trees, a bar, and Jay Z music glaring, I knew the hotel guided us into a "foreign experience." Nonetheless, it was quite fun.

Michelle (Chicago Public), me, Clara (Boston Public)

Brent (WI), Pat (MA), and Shauna (MS)

Day 2 in Bursa. What do bougie people do? Go see a puppet show, of course! And shop for silk. That was my afternoon, plus a nap. :)

Me and my roomie, Shauna.

And for dinner? Another outdoor patio with a view. Fancy, like at a wedding. Only, this time, the local bougies came out to join. Because it is Ramazan, observant Muslims have to wait until dusk (or really sun down) to eat.

As we ate our meal, many locals came out all dolled up--many on dates, some out with the girls, some with a large group. It was strange to eat while all others around did not.

Locals waiting for dusk.

They sat.

And waited, and waited.

And waited.

And looked at the crazy foreigners.

Then, a canon of some sort went off, and the eating and drinking frenzy began.

Only in Bougie Bursa.

Me and My Wet Hair

I don't brush my hair. I don't even comb it. I wash it, towel dry it, and off I go. Which was exactly my routine yesterday morning before we went out to trace the footsteps of the Ottomans. Little did I know that my wet hair was communicating something else entirely.

The Ottoman Empire spanned from 1299-1922, persisting beyond medieval times into present times. Before there was an empire, there were heterogeneous groups of tribes and nomads who populated the Anatolian plain.  We began our retracing in a small village outside of Safranbolu in northern Turkey.

Yörük Köyü is not your average village. In fact, it's quite well off. As descendants of skilled bakers (Janissaries, military corps of the Ottomans, who learned a trade), many villagers traveled to Istanbul for part of the year, and were able to bring back their acquired fortunes to their village, which is reflected in many of the homes. At present more than half of the bakeries in Istanbul are owned and operated by folks from this village.

Tombstones with turbans.

We were treated to a tour by an 8th generation villager who allowed us into his home. There, seated in a beautifully decorated greeting room, I learned an interesting fact.

Check out our group of teachers in the mirror!

Mannequin in bathing cabinet.

For Muslims, after having sexual intercourse, one must shower (perform a ghusl). Many homes had a private, small bathing cabinet like the one pictured to the right (that's a mannequin!).

When one walked out with wet hair, it was basically letting everyone know that you just had sex. Which was exactly what I did that morning! (walk out with wet hair, that is). Of course, it's easy to focus solely on a sensational, small aspect of culture like wet hair, and gloss over the other intricate, nuanced practices. I personally find bathing and cleansing habits and rituals fascinating.

Bathing at other times happened at least once a week in a bath house/laundry room where women gathered together to gossip.  In Yörük Köyü women gathered around this large stone where all could be seen. There were 12 sides (religiously significant for Bektashis...and also Christians, but more on that later).






Armed with this bathing knowledge, we headed into the town of Safranbolu (city with plenty of saffron) to shop, relax, eat, and experience for ourselves a Turkish bath at the hammam. Heat, scrubbing, cleansing, communing. That's an afternoon in the hammam for the ladies. (Personally, I enjoyed my hammam experience much better in Morocco, but the bonding with ladies is always great).

So, after a lovely time in the hammam, I realized that it was  twice that day I went out with wet hair. Scandalous.

Hammam in Safranbolu

Party Like It's Ramazan.

In the U.S., we know it as Ramadan. A month of fasting from sun up to sun down. In Turkey, for some reason, the pronunciation of the "d" sound in Arabic got lost in translation and only here is Ramadan called Ramazan. (But really, that's nobody's business but the Turks).

I hang out with Rekha's family every Eid. We don't fast during Ramadan, but we sure do celebrate at the end of the month! My cursory understanding of the month was a spiritual cleansing with the deprivation of food and drink.

Well, apparently, Ramazan is not exactly all about deprivation. In fact, it's kind of all about partying. During the day, people try to take naps, hang out. Nothing passes the lips. Some don't even swallow saliva. Women prepare meals during the day without tasting their cooking.

When the sun goes down--when one can hold up a black thread and not distinguish it from the sky--then the people come to life. There is feasting and partying and staying up all night! And eating occurs as if one switched a.m. with p.m.--eat at 11, again at 3, etc. 

Many people actually gain weight during Ramazan. Imagine eating Thanksgiving dinner every day. For a month.

After my two-day travel adventure, I arrived in Istanbul on the first night of Ramazan. The park near the Hagia Sophia and Blue Mosque was crowded with folks sitting on benches waiting for the sun to go down.

And when it did, people came out in hoards. There were performances left and right. Shopping, eating, drinking.

It was all a bit surreal. Fresh off a plane and I was blown away by being steps to the Hagia Sophia and Blue Mosque (see view from hotel roof); meeting Rose, my newly hired counterpart at Vassal Lane in Cambridge, in Istanbul, not Cambridge; drinking apple tea and fermented millet topped with cinnamon; and seeing whirling dervishes perform.

All in a night's work.

Even outside of Istanbul, in Safranbolu, people party for Ramazan. Or at least the one gentleman who decided that drumming like crazy at 3 a.m. was a great idea did.

Techno-frustration.

I signed up for flight alerts from United. The day before my flight out to Istanbul until my arrival at the airport, I received six phone calls. 

Flight delayed by half an hour. No, an hour. Hour and a half. Two hours. 

At the two-hour delay I began to freak out since I had exactly that amount of time to transfer planes. So, I decided to go early to the airport...and maybe drive the five plus hours to Newark directly.

At the airport, all was well. The airline switched the aircraft and we were back to only a half hour delay. Yeah! Technology fueled an unnecessary anxiety. I didn't need the minute-to-minute report on the flight when in the end, it all worked out.

Fast forward 12 hours. Yes, 12 hours later and I made it as far as....Newark! The flight to Istanbul, after sitting on the tarmac, after de-planing and waiting, was cancelled. Great. Time to practice being equanimous.

I let all the upset families flying to Albania and other irate patrons push and shove their way to the ticket counter.

At the end of the pack, an hour and a half later, I saw something magical. There was an American couple in front of me whose daughter was off to the side, iPad and headphones occupying all of her attention.

Meanwhile, two rows in front of this engrossed pre-teen was the daughter of my Krgyzstan neighbor on the plane. 

What was she up to while her parents waited for hotel and meal vouchers? 

Sketching with a pencil, happy as a clam.

I couldn't help but notice this sharp dichotomy: one girl using technology, oblivious to her surroundings; the other using her imagination with some good, old-school technology. 

And within five minutes, the little artist had begun to make friends, interacting with others in her current environment. The other, still on an iPad.

I don't truly know the trials and tribulations of raising kids with technology because I haven't had to experience being so tired and frustrated that all I want is the opiate of technology to kick in and save me.

I just know that if I have a daughter some day, she's drawing and using her imagination whenever possible and making friends. (And maybe occasionally watching a movie on an iPad, too!)