Moms will be moms

Welcome back, you good looking, dapper readers. Did you do something new with your hair? You look younger. More sophisticated.

Now that I have you hooked, prepare to be shocked:

Due to my current form of employment as a nanny, I spend a lot of time with small children. Cue gasp and looks of surprise and awe. 

Yet, even though I change a lot of diapers, make a lot of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, and give a lot of single eyebrow raised did-you-really-just-do-that looks to people all under three feet tall, people rarely mistake me for a mom. The reason for this is quite simple. Beyond the lack of actual offspring (the world really isn't ready for Adaline: The Sequel) and high rise denim, I lack a very specific gene that becomes apparent (see what I did there?!) the instant a woman welcomes a child into her life. This gene, along with boring eyes into the back of their heads and elevating their hearing to supersonic levels, causes these women to envelop anyone they meet in momness (trust me, this is a real thing. I'm a scientist). It is this gene that makes my own mom sheppard young 4Hers through raising animals for the fair, year after year, even though I have long since hung up my 4H uniform. It's this gene that makes Stephanie reach over and strong arm me in the car whenever she slams on the brakes (which happens quite frequently. This is Turkey, after all). And it is this gene that made my recent visit to Izmir magical.

After one train ride, one delayed flight and hiding in a hotel to avoid an old man who tried to drag my poor, directionally challenged self to his hotel (note to future travelers: never agree to walk down a dark alley with a stranger. This seems like common sense, but the gentleman in question seemed shocked when I wouldn't go with him. He also seemed surprised when I told him that if he didn't let go of my hand I would be happy to scream until his ear drums burst), I finally made it to Izmir. The city is right on the water and boasts beautiful architecture...:

 ...a huge bazaar where you can find everything from dinner to wedding dresses to creepy mannequins like these...:

Seriously, what are you selling besides sparkle filled nightmares?!

...cool sculptures that vaguely resemble a deconstructed boat. Or a whale skeleton (so much for that marine science degree)...

...and delicious seafood!

Izmir has an interesting history as an ancient port city (for my historically inclined readers, aka Dad, you can find more information here), and is surrounded by some ridiculously awesome ruins including St. Mary's house, the temple of Artemis and, the showstopper, Ephesus. With so much to see and no car or directional capabilities, I figured my best option was to pay for a tour. So, bright and early Tuesday morning, I got into a van with these people...:

...who became my family for the day. Next to my awkward, wind blown self is Yi-Ching, followed by Nora, her daughters Nikita and Karina, and her husband, Cliff.  Nora immediately began momming both Yi-Ching and myself, and within an hour or two we were being treated like long lost members of the family. She argued with a rug salesman to get me a better price on an authentic Turkish carpet (score!), and insisted that the tour company allow me to travel with them for an extra few hours while they all waited for their flight back to Istanbul that night. I honestly can't thank them enough, not just for buying me dinner that night or for taking lots of pictures for me, but for being so welcoming and inviting me into their little family for a day. It really made my trip! Of course, sights like these also helped:

First, we saw Mary's House. I was warned by two of my favorite seasoned travelers that it would be cheesy, but I didn't think it was so bad (granted, this is coming from the woman who told her cousin she couldn't camp because it was too 'in tents'. I may not be the best judge of these things).

Although there is no official evidence this was Mary's final residence, John the Baptist, her caretaker, did settle in Ephesus...

and the building was discovered after reading the visions of Catherine Emmerich, who described the exact location and number of rooms despite being bedridden in Germany.

Regardless of its authenticity, thousands of people visit everyday, and many leave prayers and wishes on the wall in hopes they will be answered.

Next it was off to the Temple of Artemis. One of the Seven Wonders of the Ancient World, only one of the original 127 columns is still standing (they rebuilt it 3 different times before it finally was ruined for good. I probably would have given up by then, too).

After a fashion show at a leather factory (yes, it was exactly what it sounds like. This blog is family friendly, so there will be no photos...;) and a carpet making demonstration it was off to Ephesus! The post is getting a little long, so I'll let the pictures do the talking (if you're devastated by my lack of information, go here. If you're missing my witty commentary, go here).

According to our guide, this was an early version of backgammon. The boards were all along the street so that vendors had something to do on slow days.

Some would say I look like an arch angel (I'll let you know when I find out who the some are).

A shopkeeper was confused how we all knew each other because we looked like a "mini United Nations." Ironic, because that's where Cliff and Nora both work!

The goddess Nike.

Public toilets! Talk about getting to know your neighbor...

The Library at Ephesus!

The Library from behind a brothel across the street. There was a secret passageway between the two (scandalous!). It makes you wonder how many husbands told their wives they were going to the library to study anatomy (our guide made that joke, so please redirect your eye rolling and judgement).

So there you have it. It's amazing how you don't recognize how much you miss being mommed until you're in your mid-twenties and half way around the world from your own (shout out to Mom Padlina! I love you! And I'm sorry again for telling you I was trapped in Turkey on April Fools! ;). So one last time, thanks to Nora, Cliff and the rest of the gang for treating me like one of their own. Hopefully I'll find another family who's willing to adopt a slightly spastic 25-year-old when I head to Istanbul on Monday...or at least who'll put up with one following them around. Otherwise who knows where I'll end up.

Safe travels,
Adaline

P.S. I know that one of the coolest, most stylish moms I know is going to read this and hassle me about my mom jeans comment. In fact, she just started a fashion blog that you guys should all check out here! Rumor has it her photographer is pretty good, too, and I can confirm that neither have rocked the mom (or in my case, nanny) jeans :).

A Whole New Whirled

Alright, fine readers, get out your black robes and white collars because it's confession time: I am a procrastinator.

It's a bit of a problem, probably second only to my coffee addition and a close tie to my recent obsession with the MTV show Catfish (seriously, how do people go years 'dating' someone without meeting them?! WHAT IF THEY HAVE UNBEARABLE HALITOSIS?!). It is not, however, a new problem. In fact, there are some reading this blog that would tell you my 6th grade teacher dubbed me Miss Molasses, but I am not at liberty to confirm or deny this accusation. The point is, it took me 10 weeks to finally attend a Whirling Dervish ceremony. That, my friends, is embarrassing for several reasons. First, it's free, and I NEVER turn down free things (especially if there's food involved, but that's another story). Secondly, and perhaps more importantly, it's Konya's thing. It's akin to going to Paris and waiting to see the Eiffel tower. Going to Italy and waiting to eat pasta. Going to Newport and waiting to go to the Hatfield Marine Science Center (I'm sorry, shameless plug. I can't help myself.). So last Saturday Stephanie and I decided we could tear ourselves away from Catfish for one night and become more whirledly by attending the ceremony, also known as a Sama.

Now, before I wow you with a thrilling account of our adventure, let me drop some knowledge on you. The Dervishes, who whirl in remembrance of God, are members of a specific branch of Islam known as Sufism who follow the teachings of Rumi, a prominent Persian theologian. Still with me? According to Wikipedia, Rumi was rolling through town one day when he heard goldbeaters (who presumably have nothing to do with gold diggers...;) hammering out a rhythm that sounded like "there is no god but the God". As many of us are wont to do, Rumi heard a good beat and was so enthused he put up his hands and broke out in some epic dance moves. His followers embraced the dance, and the current Sama ceremony was born.

I should point out that this has happened to me several times, and not ONCE has it become a religious ceremony. Clearly I need new moves. And probably followers.

The ceremony has evolved over time, and now has four specific parts. To start with, a lone singer offers praise to God, and a reed flute is played.

After about 20 minutes of this, the Dervishes come out. They wear black robes (a symbol of the grave) and walk around in a circle. They all bow to each other, and then kneel together and remove their black robes to reveal the shiny white gowns most people picture when they think of the Dervishes.

After that, it's time for them to rock your whirled! The dervishes spin on their left foot, with their right palm facing up toward heaven and their left palm down toward the ground to signify the spiritual journey each believer must take to find God. They complete four sets of whirls before ending the Sama with readings from the Qu'ran and a final prayer.

It turns out that if you start a religion and millions of people connect to your writings about love and tolerance you're kind of a big deal. In the case of Rumi (or Mevlana as he is known in Turkish) they create a huge museum about your life and give you one of the coolest tombs I've ever seen. A few weeks before attending the Sama, I spent a day perusing the Mevlana museum.

After the Dervishes were no longer living together here, they converted the buildings into a museum. Each small cell (you can see the entrances in the above picture) where one of the Dervishes would have lived now houses a few artifacts, information about Rumi and his followers and, on occasion, a creepy mannequin or two.

This wasn't written in the information, but I'm pretty sure this is what the Dervishes did before Facebook was around for entertainment. You know you didn't want to share a wall with the symbol player.

These were carried by merchants, who used the scythe on the left for (shock and surprise) protection from robbers. The middle and right objects are tongs of some sort, but I was never able to figure out what they were used for. Blogger fail!

A shirt owned by Mevlana's oldest son. They say all styles repeat themselves...

A creepy mannequin Dervish used to show what life in the cells would have been like. Also used to scare American tourists.

The entrance to the building housing Rumi's tomb.

But where are the awesome tomb pictures?! Alas, us mere tourists are not allowed to take photographs inside the building. Fortunately, though, my good friend Google had some stashed away that you can see here, along with a little more information about Mevlana and a few pictures of the decor around the tomb.

So there you have it. I hope you'll stayed tuned for my two final posts about my trips to Izmir and Istanbul before I head back to Corvegas next week. In the mean time, here's a little gem for you to ruminate on:

"If you are irritated by every rub, how will your mirror be polished??" -Rumi

No wonder the guy has his own museum. ;)

Safe travels,
Adaline