Building on the toothing stone I left at the end of my previous post, after checking into the not quite luxurious Otel Yazim, I enjoyed tea and oranges with the hotel manager – shades of Suzanne by Leonard Cohen.
I explored the historic town of Konya, which was located on the road from Istanbul to Jerusalem. It is said that St. Paul passed through here on his pilgrimage. I visited the Alaeddin Mosque, which was part of a hilltop citadel. There were the remains of a Seljuk Empire palace within the walls of the citadel, and the courtyard contains the burial places of several of the Sultans of Rum ( no links to Dire Straits or to the drink).
On the subject of burials, one of the main attractions of Konya is the turquoise-domed tomb of the 13th century poet and Sufi mystic Rumi (often referred to as Mevlana in Turkish). After his death, his son and followers founded the Mevlevi Order – more commonly known as the Order of Whirling Dervishes.
…the whirling dervishes of Konya asleeep in tombs draped with finest embroidered cloth; Mevlana himself in the largest tomb; draped in brocade embroidered with gold thread; so splendid; atop the tombs, black turbans with cylindrical hats…
The afternoon saw me being bundled into another dolmus for the 8 km ride to the ancient village of Sille. It is situated in the foothills, with nothing beyond (I was probably gazing across the vast Anatolian plain). A group of local kids showed me the troglodyte dwellings in the rock face. The Byzantine church was sadly closed.
I decided to hitch a ride back to Konya, feeling quite happy with my trip so far. The road was hot and dusty, and a bit rugged in places. I passed a donkey in a graveyard – the donkey was alive. I soon picked up a lift in a lorry to the outskirts of Konya. Not for the first or last time, the driver demanded money for the lift, but I politely declined.
I walked past a construction site and a couple of bricks landed close to me, shattering on the ground. It happened a couple of times and was quite frightening when “dropped” from that height. I had mixed feelings about the people I encountered on the streets, with most being friendly and curious, but others a bit more threatening. I passed rows of shoe-shiners. And I started to have my first (realistic) doubts about a future with Judith.
My (imaginary) hotel review for TripAdvisor:
…hotel a real dump, but the bed’s ok; filthy sink, but washed with running water, and a “stand up” bung-hole of a toilet; smelly; smell of piss everywhere.
But it was only 21p for the night. Where will I be sleeping tomorrow?
Clues: A town with an elevation of 1020 metres above sea level and an important stop on the Istanbul to Baghdad railway. See you there – if you get a ticket!
Psychologist on the Move 