Atatürk! Atatürk!

Mustafa Kemal. Otherwise known as 

Atatürk.  Father of modern Turkey. Leader of the Battle of Gallipoli, which kept the French and English out of the Anatolian Peninsula.

Without him, no present-day republic.

His image is everywhere--on flags, on practically 99 out of 100 statues I've seen, on neck ties, etc.

As Macit, our tour guide, recounted the story of 

Atatürk at the battle, he mentioned that during battle Atatürk sustained an injury from shrapnel being blown towards his chest.

Say what, Atatürk?

Read his account behind me.

Me, too!

Only I didn't have a pocket watch stop the shrapnel and miraculously save me.

No, I had fat help lodge the shrapnel from going any further, like say into my heart and what not. (I still think it was the muscle from all of my insanity workouts).

I felt a weird connection to this national hero. And I was able to talk about the marathon with other teachers on this trip in a more meaningful way. It's a strange thing to bring up in conversation--Oh, and by the way, I was bombed. Visiting the peninsula and battlefield helped me have some conversations that were probably helpful for my healing, and for that, I'm grateful, Atatürk.

Does this mean I have to lead a nation now?

Graves of soldiers. 

Roomies!

Atatürk!

Barb and Macit, our parents on the trip.

Çanakkale, where we stayed for the night.

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