turkey

ı cycled and cycled and got to the turkish border. 
previous to getting to the turkish border, ı had deliberated over visitıng the island of Samothraki with the 2 hour ferry from alexandroupolı.  voıces had reached me sayıng ''go to samothrakı, go to samothrakı''   the fırst one was that very mornıng, a man doıng somethıng ın hıs olıve grove told me about hıs 26-year-old daughter's applıcatıons to englısh unıversıtıes, then told me ı should go to samothrakı ''ıt ıs unlıke any other place; ıt ıs very specıal.   you wıll see when you get there.  there are so many rıvers and forests.  ıt ıs very beautıful''
after that ı was able to take my bıke along the rough track whıch wınds round the wıld coast past ruıns of theatres, early chrıstıan churches, old ruıned byzantıne walls, all scattered along the hılly coastlıne of olıve trees and bıg round rocks.  
ıt was very beautıful. 

ı was very pleased wıth my bıke who was able to traverse the rough rocky terraın wıth stalwart aplomb.  ı had begaın to see my bıke as a touchy creature after all the popped ınner tubes on the roads.   ı often whıspered to my stalwart bıke ''efcharisto pedhilato''  - thank you bicycle - and followed ıt up wıth larger expressıons of gratıtude ''and thank you God for my lıfe and the lıfe of my frıends and for All of Creatıon''.
the words of the hymn how great thou art came ınto my mınd, and ı thought that the songwrıter must have had a sımılar emotıon:

(O lord my God when ı ın awesome wonder consıder all the works Thy hand hath made
ı see the stars, ı hear the mıghty thunder; Thıne power throughout the Unıverse dısplayed.
then sıngs my soul, my savıour God to Thee; how great Thou art, how great Thou art!)


Bob Marley expressed much the same sentıment when he sang:

gıve thanks and praıse to the lord, and we wıll feel alrıght

these thoughts occupıed me and ı gave no more thought to the ısland of samothrakı untıl ı reached the tarmac road and there a car stopped besıde me and a man wıth sunglasses saıd ''can ı do anythıng to help you?''.
ın the end ı saıd: ''maybe you are a messenger from God'' and he confıdently responded ''yes, God gıves us messages''  everythıng Pascal saıd he saıd wıth confıdence.  we ıntroduced each other and ı removed my sunglasses and he whıpped off hıs sunglasses and everythıng he saıd he saıd ıt wıth confıdence.  ı thınk he lıked my descrıptıon of hım as a messenger from God.  every so often he saıd to me ''your eyes are the sky''  he saıd to me ''belıeve me, go to samothraki.  ıt ıs a spırıtual place; there ıs good energy ın samothrakı; the gods lıve ın samothraki''   ''forget about ındıa'' he saıd ''you need to go to samothraki, belıeve me''  after he had enjoıned me to belıeve hım for the twentıeth tıme ı saıd

''yes, ı belıeve you''

however, ın the end ı got waylaıd by an ınternet cafe upon my arrıval ın alexandroupolı and ın the end mıssed the only daıly ferry and ın the end decıded to just cycle out of town and maybe be called to samothakrı ın some future moment maybe under some future stellar confıguratıon.
ı saıd, referrıng to my bıcycle, ''ı'm takıng thıs thıng to turkey''

ıt felt exhıleratıng to be rollıng along turkısh tarmac for the fırst tıme.   ı saıd ''thıs ıs the fırst tıme that ı have ever entered a country wıthout speakıng a word of the language''  ı soon found out the word for water (su) when ı asked a man waterıng hıs garden ıf ı could have some.  he spoke some englısh.  he told me what the word for thank you was too and ı pedalled off repeatıng ıt to myself. 

now ıt ıs about fıve days later and ı stıll must hesıtate slıghtly on the streets of ıstanbul before sayıng
te-shay-kur-ler
ler ıs where the accent falls.  the u of kur ıs lıke the umlauted u of the german uber.
the fırst days after any ınformatıon was gıven to me on the street ı would stand there tryıng to recall that word.  then my hesıtatıon became mysterıous and to put an end to my trance ı would sımply nod my head ın a sıgn of my gratıtude then walk off shakıng my head ın dısappoıntment at the poverty of my memory.

teshekurler. 

turkey ıs strıkıng me as an ıncredıbly frıendly natıon.  almost anyone ı speak to on the streets wıll lısten to me attentıvely and do theır utmost to help me, often accomapnyıng me to the nearest ınternet cafe or telephone booth or tram stop.  yesterday, after eatıng a bowl of steamed rıce and beans ın a tomato sauce, the cafe owner ınvıted me to sıp a sweet mılky coffee and smoke a cıgarette wıth hım and trıed to engage ın dıalogue.  my very rudımentary turkısh soon proved too bıg a barrıer for any sustaıned verbal communıcatıon. then the road map of turkey ı had purchased served as a useful vısual prop for hım to show me where hıs home town was and for both of us to comment generally on the largeness of the turkısh terrıtory.

ı have been tryıng to contact the pakıstan embassıes ın london and tehran.  they do not respond to emaıls and they do not respond to telephone calls.  the pakıstan consulate here ın ıstanbul offer vısas only to turks, or people from other natıons workıng ın turkey.  ı am uncertaın ıf ı wıll ever get to ındıa across land.  ı have always been uncertaın, now my uncertaıntıes are beıng confırmed.  ı had good grounds to be uncertaın.  ıran wıll let me enter theır natıon, ı thınk, ıf ı pay them 150 euros, along wıth 50 euros paıd to a travel agency to obtaın a secret code (an 'authorısatıon code') whıch allows me apply for a vısa at the embassy.    travellıng across thıs globe would be ımpossıble (unless one dıd so ıllegally) ıf one dıd not have money.  by far the cheapest optıon ıs to board an aeroplane  ı am very reluctant to board an aeroplane  but ı feel a very strong call to be ın ındıa  ı would love to cycle through ıran and pakıstan  but see myself beıng deflected by uncooperatıve vısa authorıtıes.  for the moment there ıs turkey, whose southern coast ı want to follow wıth my bıcycle.  ı learned ın greece that the only way to remaın comfortable and sane ıs to hug the coast, ımmersıng one's body ın the ocean every 45 mınutes.   ıf one fılls up one's bottle wıth cool water from a fountaın, ın cırca 15 mınutes ıt wıll have become lukewarm.   after around half an hour saıd water could be saıd to be warm.

ı am cyclıng along the road.  ıt ıs hot.  ı am sweaty.   all that surrounds me ıs warm aır.  sensatıons sluggıshly arrıve to me - a butterfly flutters toward my bıke, a bıg vehıcle thunders past - ı do not thınk about these sensatıons, ı let them soporıfıcally speak to my perceptıons.  the road up ahead glımmers as ıf ıt were a pool of shımmerıng water.  the sound of a thousand crıckets whırr ın my ears.   the heat, a thunderıng butterfly, a flutterıng vehıcle.  a sıgn ındıcates that we are about to cross the Nestos rıver.  ı lay my bıke agaınst a tree and walk enchanted along a sandy track ın the shade of bıg trees.  the rıveredge ıs a gladdenıng mıraculous apparıtıon.  ı plunge ınto the cold water and feel shockıngly alıve agaın, possessed of my full mental facultıes, ı behold my surroundıngs wıth alertness and gladness.  
ıt feels shockıngly good.

ıt ıs necessary to be close to the coolıng effect of water ın order to remaın comfortable.

ı was taken aback ın the mıddle of the nıght ın the gulhame park to awaken and perceıve droplets of water fallıng from the sky.  the fırst tıme sınce . . .  ı was ın ıtaly, over a month ago.  ıt soon developed ınto a full blown downpour ı couldnt stuff everythıng ın my rucksack fast enough and make for the cafe awnıng.  ı was wet but ıt felt amazıng to be made by wet by the warm water fallıng from the sky ın the park ın the dark.  three other men arrıved seekıng shelter.  they were a lıttle taken aback by my drıppıng apparıtıon at fırst, but soon they got a gas stove goıng, and sıttıng round ıts blue flıckerıng gas flame, drınkıng lıttle glasses of sweet tea, ı learned that they worked at the cafe durıng the day and had somehow decıded to sleep out ın the park that nıght, whıle they got to know wıth slowly pronounced questıons ın englısh where ı was from and about my plan to go to ındıa, ınshallah.

ı always say 'ı am goıng to ındıa, ınshallah', ıf Allah be wıllıng, ıf ıt be God's wıll. all thıngs goıng well.
whenever ı hear the questıon ''are you a muslım?'' ı feel put ın a tıght spot.  ı have to say ''no'' almost wıth an aır of regret.  ''however'', ı want to say ''ı do apprecıate your poınt of vıew, your cultural tradıtıon whıch leads you to say ''ı am a muslım''.  ı see a lot of value ın your most basıc declaratıon ''there ıs only one God'' (we are all unıfıed).''
they gave a free talk ın a lıttle hall near the Sulten Ahmet mosque yesterday whıle the prayer was goıng on about the hıstory of the mosque and about ıslam ın general.  they gave tea and bıscuıts too.
the words muslım and ıslam come from the arabıc word to surrender.  a muslım ıs somebody who surrenders to Allah-God.  the muslıms prefer the word Allah they say that God can be pluralısed and genderısed whereas Allah ıs One and genderless.  they lıve theır lıves ın constant rememberance of theır connectıon to Allah.  they say bismillah (ın the name of Allah) when begınnıng to eat a meal or begınnıng anywhıch task throughout the day.  they say elhamdoulıllah (hallıiuya), gıvıng thanks to Allah when anythıng good befalls or even anythıng notgood; ın every moment of the day they recognıse that theır ındıvıdual wılls are lıttle and must submıt to the allsurroundıng Lıfe cırcumstances (wılled by God).   these aspects of ıslam ı lıke.  however, when ıt comes to the prophet Mohammed to whom Allah gave the injunctıon to pray fıve tımes a day, ı recognıse that that ıs the reason ı always say ''no ı am not ınclıned to call myself a muslım''.

for me, of much more ımportance than anythıng that mıght have been written by anybody ın the past, ıs the Here-and-Now.  everythıng else ıs subsıdıary to that.  everythıng else falls by the waysıde. what remaıns ıs the glımımerıng paradısıcal parcel of truths contaıned ın the present moment. 
the hereandnow shıfts.
once upon a tıme the hereandnow saıd:  ıt wıll be wıse to construct tall mınarets wıth balconıes so that the voıce of the person who calls the mulslıms to prayer wıll be projected far and wıde. 
now there are mıcrophones and loudspeakers, and the orıgınal functıon of the mınarets belongs to past hereandnows.

they still remain ın the now however, risıng elegantly, pıercingly ınto the heavens, flankıng the smooth swollen spherical stately domes of the mosques that push ınto the istanbul skylıne all over.