Spices and Spirituality - June 16, 2010

I think I have found a passion to pursue in retirement. I like the sound of calling my eatery The Kabab Kastle.





Part of what makes my new culinary addiction so tasty is the spices. Especially in medieval times, spices were an important, and often expensive, part of cooking. For hundreds of years, Istanbul was a crucial link in the spice trade because the city is situated between Eastern countries where most spices were grown and Europe.

Today, a spice market still exists in Istanbul. The Spice Bazaar was built during the 1660s.

I have never been a fan of shopping, but I would quickly change that attitude if I got to breathe in the aroma of the coriander and nutmeg and ginger and all of the other spices that delighted my senses yesterday while waking through the corridors of the market.

Since I was on a roll, I decided to also visit The Grand Bazaar, which has been in existence since the 1400s.
It is a maze of hundreds of shops selling everything a souvenir hound or local resident would ever want, and dozens of merchants wanted to sell me something, even though I kept telling them that a Turkish rung would not fit well in my backpack during my next month in Turkey.

But that did not even slow the merchants down. "No problem. I will keep the rug for you until you get back. No problem. I will mail it for you. No problem. You can at least look at my rugs. Because you are a teacher, I will give you a special discount."

I have heard sales pitches in markets all over the world, but yesterday I heard the best pitch ever. At the time, I was carrying a bag with a bottle of water that weighed only a few ounces. A merchant saw me passing and said, "Hey, big, strong man. How can I help you spend your money?" Actually, I learned a new Turkish phrase to handle such situations - "Param yok," which means "I have no money."


After a couple of hours of fending off the economic advances of the shop keepers, I decided to tour a few of the mosques of Istanbul.




It is not hard to locate a mosque because of the towers that dot the skyline throughout the country. The towers are called minarets.

I am certainly no expert on Islam, so I sat down yesterday and talked with a representative at the famous Blue Mosque, who explained some of the features of a mosque.

He told me that the minarets symbolically remind people to focus on Allah/God in their lives and to draw attention to the fact that a mosque is located at a particular site, but he also told me that the minarets serve a very practical function.

One of the basic tenants of Islam is that Muslims are obligated to pray at five designated times throughout the day. Before each prayer time begins, someone in each mosque, called a muezzin, issues a "call to prayer."

The muezzin goes into the base of one of the minarets, which have loud speakers attached, or climbs stairs to the top of a minaret and recites a specific prayer to assemble the believers. If a person cannot get to a mosque, a Muslim is allowed to pray wherever he or she is at the time.

Even though I am not a follower of Islam, I still am captivated daily by the sound of the rhythmic chants echoing through the streets of Istanbul, reminding me that there is something far greater than each of us and our individual concerns.

Another noticable difference between a mosque and a church is that there are no pews in a church. Instead, Muslims pray on the carpeted floor. Worshippers remove their shoes before going inside.



Also, there are no images in mosques. The representative told me that is because Muslims believe that it would be impossible and even blasphemos to try to create an image to represent Allah. Also, any human or animal images would be considered iınappropriate because
worshippers are to focus on Allah and Allah alone and not on human or animal images.
Again, I am no expert on Islam, so I apologize ahead of time if any of this iınformation is iıncorrect.




Still, there is no lack of beautiful artwork in mosques.

Many of the mosques contain stunning tiles that adorn the
walls and ceilings.






One of the most famous mosques in Istanbul, and in all of the world, is the Blue Mosque, which gets its name from the tens of thousands of tiles inside.




Many of the tiles were hand painted.

I have iıncluded a couple of pictures, but the pictures do not do justice to the magnifience of the artwork.














Before I close, I wanted to thank all of you for the many e-mails I received checking on whether I had arrived safely ın Turkey. As I reflect on it, it really is remarkable that before Monday I had never even met my host, Gökhan, and yet, I managed to travel 5,000 miles to a country with a language I cannot speak and managed to find my way, through a lot of friendly helpers, to a meeting spot I had never seen before, trusting that Gökhan would actually be there and him trusting that I would actually show up, and now I am typing you this message from a computer in his home.

Frequent overseas travelers are probably smilıng right now because my story is far from unique. It is just a small reminder of travel magic in a benevolent universe.