travelling in turkey

there is something about this place that reminds me of sandend and sunnyside beach.

''no way'' says finlay,  ''does it ever get as hot as this in scotland?''

well no, but there is something about the scene- the path winding along the wild coast, the expanse of sea and sand . . . your first experience of the world - your early impressions of life - will always stay embedded in your memory bank.

finlay was just off the back of a month and a half of stravaiging around thrace - the 'european' part of turkey west of istanbul.  reputedly the friendliest.  ''being a foreigner here is like carrying a V.I.P badge everywhere you go,'' i observe and, right on cue, a group of youngsters hail us from across the street.

''hoş geldiniz!'' (welcome!)  the phrase on everybody's lips just waiting to issue forth upon the sighting of a V.I.P foreigner.

they want to take a photo of us on their mobile phones then we part with effusive well-wishes.  round the corner the men in the çay shop pour on us their welcome then insist (in tones that really brook no dissent) that we join them for çay and finlay says that his days often progressed in this fashion- simialar to a pubcrawl.  he would advance from one street to the next, from one çay shop to the next.

finlay has learnt a thing or two from the turks about backgammon strategy, including taking moves instantly - hardly stopping to think for an instant - and taking outrageous risks which not infrequently pay off.  as we are playing a small group of men gather round and give us catagorical advice on how we should play.  older men who are now retired and spend their days at the çay cafe take it in turns to talk to us.  we are privvy to an elaborate commentary on the mystery of the numeral zero from an old mathematics teacher, whose hastily scrawled equations now adorn my notebook.  finlay has mastered the basics of the turkish language and seems to be slowly following the commentary, but i only grasp the notion that the number zero is indeed a mystery.

i copy out the list of the most frequently asked questions which finlay has compiled, viz:
nerelisin?  where are you from? 
nasılsın?  how are you? 
oruç tutuyormusun?  are you observing the ramazam daytime fast?  
nasıl türkçe ogrendim?  how did you learn turkish?  
ne iş yapıyorsun?  what is your job? 
iskoçyada kaç para?  how much money (do you earn) in scotland?  
yalnızsın mı?  are you alone?  
evlimisin?  are you married?  
kardeşin var mı?  brothers or sisters?  
kaç tane?  how many?  
çay içermisin?  do you want some çay?  
yemegi yedin?  have you eaten? repeated like a litany at each new encounter, the best way to language learn; turkey: one big langauge school, with conversation practise readily available anywhere.

i feel that even a couple of days spent with finlay sufficed to significantly consolidate my smattering.  i think i absorbed passively some of his turkish language passion and intonation.

communication wasn't easy, however, yesterday when i was washing at the tap by lake burdur and the man from the van produced a bar of white soap.  ''cleanliness is the next to godliness'' was the nub of the message i perceived.  ''allah loves his children to be clean:   it would be better if you shaved your armpits and pubic hair . . . easier to clean'' it was one of those recurring situations wherein i listen attentively to my interlocutor and they end up opening up their heart to me and giving me their telephone number and wanting me to become a muslim.

''are you a christian?  you know jesus was a prophet but mohammed was the last prophet (the last prophet he was) and the message of the koran is Allah's message to humanıity and must absolutely be obeyed if you want to go to heaven.''
all this is very slowly explained to me, sitting in the shade of a tree on some cushions.  two sticks are produced.  the long stick represents heaven and is placed alongside the short stick, which represents hell.
''now, you are a good man, i can see'' abdullah tells me ''which would you choose . . . the short stick - pain (he produces his lighter and makes as if to burn his finger), or the long stick - a big smile, everlasting bliss with Allah (most of these words i have to imagine but they aren't hard to imagine because the discourse is an old one.)  at one point abdullah phones his friend who speaks english and confirms to me abdullah's message:  the koran says it, and therefore we must observe it, if we want to go to heaven: praying five times a day, journeying to mecca, no eating of pigs (dirty) or drinking of alcohol or having sex outwith wedlock, or smoking of tobacco . . . ''well, on this small point i fail'' admits abdullah as he rolls himself another cigarette.

''so, it is obvious you will choose heaven, isn't it?  repeat after me these arabic words, and you will become a muslim''

''well,'' i search for the few turkish words at my disposal, ''i think what is in a book is not as important as listening to allah in my heart.  for me, this moment now is all of life''

abdullah shakes his head and i have to take my present moment presence back to my camp in the woods and make çay over a fire and look up at the moon and cogitate about humanity's curious issues with the perception of Reality.





all of the written above verily took place in turkey in the summer of the year of our lord two thousand and fourteen.

O mohammad, did you have any idea what a big complicated ball of mental human experiences you were setting in motion when you wrote that book?

may Peace be upon all of us.