We've been back from Istanbul for over a week now, but it seems to take so long to get back into a routine following a holiday. I'm still not caught up on laundry, which really isn't surprising given that my power keeps cutting out (don't vacuum and wash clothes at the same time!!!) and my washine machine holds as much as the standard US microwave.
In any case, it was a really nice break. The food was wonderful, very different from pasta and pizza, although that is what Andrew seemed to request every night; the sights were a nice change of pace, too, especially when you consider that Istanbul makes Rome look new.
The nicest thing we noticed is that Turks love families. We run into problems taking the children everywhere in Rome: crowded sidewalks, small restaurants not able to cope with a table for five without prior reservations, and people giving us (meaning Bill) odd looks for letting Andrew sit on his shoulders instead of walking or riding in a stroller (Yes, I have actually seen children William's age being pushed in strollers in Rome. Regularly.) However in Istanbul, we couldn't cross the street without a police officer telling us about our beautiful family; if the restaurant was full, no trouble, they would love to open a new section for the family; too many bags, again no trouble, you watch the children and we'll carry them so you don't get separated from the family; you bought a ring in the bazaar, here have a few bits of free jewelry to give your children good luck, wait you have THREE children, take one extra for yourself while you're at it...the list goes on and on.
It is very odd to me, having visited so much of Western Europe, that the kindest people I have ever met, family aside, have been strangers from second and third world countries. The rudest people, especially towards my children, were Londoners. Romans are a close second.
I have had a bus driver in Rome shut the doors ON MY CHILDREN while we were getting off the bus. Literally, he closed the door on Andrew's arm, with Helena and William waiting behind. The bus left the curb with Andrew caught in the door: I was screaming, the passengers were yelling, and the bus driver didn't stop until I started punching the windows of the bus. Really friendly place!
Likewise in London, people thought nothing of running into my children with grocery carts (at the time Helena was 3 and William was 1) in the local Tesco.
In India, multiple people would hold doors for me; one rug seller, seeing me dizzy in the heat (I was six months pregnant) asked me to come into his shop, sit down on a pile of rugs and wait while he brought me tea. How kind.
In Turkey, people would cross the street (literally) to come tell Bill and I what lovely children we have and how wonderful it was to see a family together.
It makes you question the values of each system. Yes, the West might have the jobs, freedoms and power, but Eastern cultures overtly respect families. I wonder where we, as Americans and Europeans, have lost sight of that.
Enough philosophy! I'm sure you're wondering about The Blue Mollusk...it's a bit of a story. So let's discuss history.
Istanbul was once Constantinople, the center of the spice and silk trades and the center of the world-wide conflict between Christianity and Islam. The city traded hands multiple times during the crusades and remained a Muslim country at the end of the last crusade in the 1300s.
Following that crusade, many of the Christian churches and Basilicas (all Christians were Catholic at that time) were converted into Mosques. The largest and most famous Basilica, the Hagia Sofia, was modified and used as a mosque until it was deconsecrated in the late 1930s. In spite of its Christian origins, many of the Christian artifacts, tombs and frescos remainded intact through its years of service as a mosque; original Christian symbols and frescos of Mary, Jesus and John the Baptist can still be seen today.
However, it was most likely a bit disconcerting for the local Muslims to worship in a building that began as a Christian church; the Hagia Sofia is set on top of a hill, next to the royal palace, and dominates the skyline of Istanbul. Enter Sultan Ahmet.
In 1603 he set out to build the greatest mosque in Istanbul, one that would surpass the Hagia Sofia in beauty and size; he even went as far as to build it with six minarets, a feat which earned him praise and backlash, as up to that point no mosque outside of Mecca featured so many towers to call its worshipers.
To make the mosque stand out even more from the golden-domed Hagia Sofia, Sultan Ahmet ordered the dome of his mosque and the entire interior to be covered in handpainted Iznik blue and white tiles, hence its name, The Blue Mosque.
Enter my son, William, who has a Spongebob fetish and mumbles regularly. "Where is the Blue Mollusk?" he wanted to know.
You can take the kids out of Michigan/England/Pittsburgh/Rome but you can't take all of that out of the kids. The Blue Mollusk. Please, if you see William, tease him. Unmercifully.
Anyway, we returned to Rome and for the first time felt as if we were having a homecoming. We could recognize the roads the taxi driver used to get us from the airport to our apartment; we could read some of the billboards and knew which ones had changed in the week while we were away; we were relieved to sit on our wonderfully comfortable and battered sofa and relax.
The oddest thing about moving is not the packing, unpacking or dealing with lost or broken items; it's the feeling of never knowing exactly where HOME is and when we're going to be there again. One of the nice things about a vacation is knowing that when you return from whence you came a small feeling of relief awaits.
