This post is part 12 of 17 of my trip to Istanbul. The series intends to give more than just a I-saw-this-and-did-that review. It aims to share the voice inside my head as I explore a world I’ve only read in books.

By the time JC and I walked the length of the Theodosian Walls from the Chora Church to the Sirkeci Central Train Station, the sky turned into a menacing gray and the wind picked up furiously. Within a few minutes sky broke into a waterfall. We went into the train station to escape the rain and to buy evening tickets to see the Whirling Dervishes. Unfortunately, the tickets weren’t available for purchase until an hour before the show. For the next two hours, JC and I sat at the benches and played a game we made up while the trains passed by and the sky poured sideways.

The Sirkeci Central Train Station was built in 1889 under the walls of the Topkapi Palace near Eminonu, the ferry docks and the Galata Bridge. This train station was the destination for the renowned Orient Express. It was Europe’s first transcontinental express train that brought a luxury of wealth and travel to Istanbul. The Orient Express was created by a Belgian businessman George Nagelmackers and revived in 1982 by an American businessman James Sherwood. The Orient Express has been immortalized in films, books and other parts of popular culture.

The current train station is preserved in its original state and trains now run various routes between London and Venice but not as luxuriously as they did back in the days. The trains that passed through the station made some of New York City’s subways look like luxury. In the 1950s and 1960s, the station had a restaurant where many journalists, writers and influential media people gathered. The restaurant today is called the “Orient Express,” coincidentally, and is a popular spot for many tourists.

Members of The Contemporary Lovers of Mevlana Society conduct ceremonies at the Sirkeci Central Train Station every Tuesday and Saturday at 7:30PM. At 6:30PM, a plastic booth appeared by one of the doors and that was our cue to go. We lined up to enter the small psuedo-music hall. The one-hour long program consisted of a Sufi Music Concert and the Whirling Ceremony. Sufism is the mystical dimension of Islam.

Classical Sufi scholars have defined Sufism as “a science whose objective is the reparation of the heart and turning it away from all else but God.” Alternatively, in the words of the renowned Darqawi Sufi teacher Ahmad ibn Ajiba, “a science through which one can know how to travel into the presence of the Divine, purify one’s inner self from filth, and beautify it with a variety of praiseworthy traits.” – Wikipedia

The seating was arranged with plastic chairs in a U-shape formation with five designed chairs for the musicians located at the front of the room. The worship ceremony began with a performance by the flutists, drummers, chanters and choir, known as the mutrip.  This is followed by the Sema, or the Whirling Ceremony, which is their form of mediation.

In the symbolism of the Sema ritual, the semazen’s camel’s hair hat (sikke) represents the tombstone of the ego; his wide, white skirt represents the ego’s shroud. By removing his black cloak, he is spiritually reborn to the truth. At the beginning of the Sema, by holding his arms crosswise, the semazen appears to represent the number one, thus testifying to God’s unity. While whirling, his arms are open: his right arm is directed to the sky, ready to receive God’s beneficence; his left hand, upon which his eyes are fastened, is turned toward the earth. The semazen conveys God’s spiritual gift to those who are witnessing the Sema. Revolving from right to left around the heart, the semazen embraces all humanity with love. The human being has been created with love in order to love. Mevlâna Jalâluddîn Rumi says, “All loves are a bridge to Divine love. Yet, those who have not had a taste of it do not know!” – Wikipedia

This post is part 2 of 17 of my trip to Istanbul. The series intends to give more than just a I-saw-this-and-did-that review. It aims to share the voice inside my head as I explore a world I’ve only read in books.

View of the Hagia Sophia from Sultanahmet Square

Rick Steves said that Lady Liberty could do jumping jacks inside the Hagia Sophia. That’s how big it is. Even though the church-turned-mosque-turned-museum is currently under construction, it sits majestically at almost 1,500 years old. Its beauty is timeless.

The Hagia Sophia is just as architecturally impressive now as it was back then. In 1453, Constantinople, now Istanbul, was conquered by the Ottoman Turks. Everything was destroyed and burned to the ground. But Sultan Mehmed II was so enamored by the Hagia Sophia that ordered it to be turned it into a mosque.

During the building’s conversion from church to mosque, many of the mosaics were covered because Islam disapproves of representational depictions. The church’s altar, bells, iconic images and sacrificial vessels were replaced with Islamic features like the mihrab, the minbar, and minarets.

After being burnt down twice, the Hagia Sophia was rebuilt by Emperor Justinian and is now entirely fireproof. Inside, there are eight huge circular wooden boards. Each one has the name of Allah, the prophet Muhammad, the first four caliphs Abu Bakr, Umar, Uthman and Ali, and the two grandchildren of Mohammed, Hassan and Hussain, written on it.

The most interesting, and probably the most unsanitary, thing I came across was the Wish Column, aka the Sweating Column. I watched each tourist stick their thumb into the designated hole and turned their palm 360 degrees to make a wish. It is the only item in the Hagia Sophia that allows visitors to touch. Touching any of the mosaics, on the other hand, will cause a surround sound eruption of “No touch! No touch! No touch!” from security guards in all directions.

Taiwanese tour group

The Hagia Sophia is grand in size but it’s no exception to the masses and tour groups that flood the building. They all seem to be armed with cameras and ready to shoot. As usual, with any tourist attraction, the weekend is war. Every other day is fair game. Just don’t go on Mondays. It’s closed.