Ch 35, Day 4: Turkey's Beloved Poet

 34.3
kms, Sept 4, 2010

The
next morning the Traveler wakes up feeling refreshed and ready to
experience this full size Turkish city. There are no scattering of
quirky sculptures and fountains like Eskishehir... much of the city
still has a generic “could be anywhere in Turkey” feel. But this
city does have an important must-see attraction: the museum of
Melvana.

If
Hodja is Turkey's most beloved storyteller, than Melvana, or Rumi as
he is commonly known is Turkey's most beloved poet—even though he
was actually Persian, born either in modern day Afghanistan or
Tajikistan. Like Hodja, Rumi's poems spread throughout the world
and contain messages that transcend time and culture. He wrote
mostly in Persian, but also in Arabic, Turkish and Greek. To this
day his poems can be heard in recitations, music compositions,
workshops and many translations around the world.

The
Traveler approaches this walled compound. This was where, after
Rumi's death, an order of Sufi mystics, the “whirling dervishes”,
who spin around in circles with arms outstretched, as music plays,
putting themselves in a trancelike state. Rumi believed that music,
poetry and dance were a way of connecting with God, and these mystics
carried on these traditions for many centuries.

Inside,
the Traveler gets a glimpse of what the life of a mystic must have
been like. Inside are dim stone cells where the mystics lived, with
a shared kitchen and water fountain. Outside is a pleasant, cheerful
garden. The most prominent structure is Rumi's final resting place,
a beautiful mausoleum, it's an iconic turquoise cylindrical shaped
structure covered with tin glazed pottery. It stands out prominently
with the otherwise standard Ottoman architecture of thin spires,
domes and stone buildings.

Despite
the many changes that this region went through over the centuries,
mystics continued to pray, write and play music here from the 1200s
until the 20^th century. Neither war nor Islamic extremism
were able to disturb this oasis of religious contemplation. It
wasn't until Ataturk, in his ambitious desire to turn Turkey into a
secular state, decided that mysticism was out of sync with his view
of a modern Turkey. He shut down this school and turned it into a
museum.

The
Traveler ponders on the meaning of this place and this great poet
whose works reached far beyond his own culture and religion. Just as
Hodja did with his stories, Rumi connected people and cultures with
his poems. Poems that spoke of the universality of human emotions
and the human journey.

From
what the Traveler has observed and heard in many conversations with
Muslims on his Journey, nowadays it seems that Islam is generally
seem as being about following a list of rules and rituals: fasting in
Ramadan. Praying in a very specific, predetermined way... not eating
certain foods and following a list of do's and don'ts in your every
day life. Few Muslims he has talked to describe their religion as a
personal journey in search of inner spirituality. The Islam of
Rumi... A mystic faith that at its core is very similar to mysticism
in all the other major faiths.

This
mysticism is something the Traveler can connect with—regardless of
the faith in which it is practiced. This Journey is, after all,
essentially a mystical Journey. A Journey seeking a connection with
something... Someone greater than himself. A Journey that still in
its infancy.

The
Caravansary

The
Traveler wanders around Konya some more, enjoying some other historic
sights around the city, before finally hopping on the tramway back to
the bus station, chatting with a cheerful conductor along the way.
Next he hops on a bus, and gets off not far down the road in what
looks like just another sleepy little town.

But
right in front of the town is what looks like a beautiful stone
palace. Sultanhani, it turns out has some preserved history
to it. This, the Traveler finds out is the Sultan Han Caravansary,
one of the best examples of Seljuk architecture, built in 1229.

A
caravansary was a hotel for passing travelers, on their way between
Konya and Aksaray, and Persia beyond. But clearly it was not built
for ordinary travelers, but rather for folks traveling with and
entire caravan. Inside its ornately decorated stone entrance you
find a passageway with noble columns and a courtyard with a
mosque-kiosk in the center.

There
is no one around as the Traveler enters and wanders around in the dim
corridors, awed by the grandeur of this place. Nearly 800 years
later, this place still has an air of regality to it. The Traveler
wonders if any of the grandest hotels of nowadays will still be
standing 800 years from now.

It's
interesting to think that the 13^th century, despite being
a very turbulent year in Anatolian history, produced some of its best
poets, storytellers and and architecture.

The
Traveler wanders around the modern town of Sultanhani, reconnecting
with the 21^st century. A couple of jolly older men insist
that he sit with them and play a couple of songs. Of course, the
Traveler agrees.

From
here he continues on to Aksaray, a mid-size city with modern
sculptures and fountains in its central plaza. A good place to
reflect on what he has seen and experienced today.