It took me more than a month to plan the trip. It took into account the fact that I was travelling alone and meant that I cover as much area as possible so as not to get bored - from Istanbul to Cappadocia to Konya to Pammukalle to Kusadasi to Selcuk (Ephesus) to Izmir to Bergama and back to Istanbul. 11 days in Turkey and there are lots of things to talk about. I however, find only one extremely Bollywood - joy, tragedy, climax and a happy ending. There are no songs in this story but a soundtrack - an unusual diffused fusion of music with instruments ranging from OUD to guitars to nothing.
After a few days in the beautiful villages of goreme and urgup in Cappadocia - where I had the privilege of watching a "Sema" ceremony which was very commercial but I kept quiet and made myself understand that even dervishes need food - I took a bus en route to Konya. One of the largest cities, Konya was my motivation to go to Turkey and pay my respects to the Sufi saints Mevlana Jalauddin Rumi and Mevlana Shams Tabraizi. Deportation/Iguazu (Babel) soothing my 3 hour bus ride.
Getting off from the bus, "tourist" was written all over my face. One of the most conservative Muslim towns my plan was not to stay for more than a few hours in Konya. Not because of any other reason, but because I had a lot of land to cover. Konya's bus stand was no less than a domestic airport without airplanes but huge Mercedes buses all around. I realized I had no map, no sense of direction, no understanding of the Turkish language (except Teshkur Edirime i.e. Thank you) and no way to explain "I need to know the way" through hand motions (I'm not Italian). Another realization struck: where to leave the luggage for the next few hours? Asked a few people around and one super human understood my version of English and guided me to the storage facility. No, he did not point, he took me there.
Luggage free, I walked out of the bus station without any hesitation not knowing where to go. I had no intention of renting a taxi and instead took a Dolmus (the local bus transport). It didn’t take me long to explain to the driver where I wanted to go. Why? Because I had "tourist" tattooed on my forehead and I mentioned Rumi which made it really easy. I had to adjust myself in the small seats. A lady got into the bus and smiled - she too knew who I was.
Dolmus took me around the city. After about forty minutes of Bhullay Shah by Junoon and Abida Parveen I reached the tomb of Mevlana Rumi. Stood in a queue and got the ticket for the tomb and the museum. My seven year old dream was about to be realized and the joy was beyond words. Visited the museum, prayed Fateha and left without taking any pictures. The idea was to absorb the experience.
Far from a true Muslim (but a proud non-believer of moderate muslimism) I still decided to pray in the next-door Selimiye Mosque. As soon as I raised my hands for takbeer tragedy struck. My mind only understood the idea of a needle piercing through the socks and the reaction was so sudden that I had to balance myself so as not to fall. I did not challenge the natural human instincts and immediately looked what was under my foot. In less than a second I knew my brain signals were wrong and tried to comprehend nature's sense of humor. It was an insect that bit me through the socks.
It was excruciatingly painful and this time the tattoo on my forehead read "agony". I had forgotten about prayer as I could not stand. A gentleman in the mosque saw this and looked at me but didn’t say anything. I had to read his eyes (yes, with no other method of communication I had to learn this) and limped towards him. In that split second of silence I realized I was alone in the country and murmured a prayer.
I: "Assalaam o Alaikum (I refrained from "Hi" because it was a mosque), can you please direct me to a hospital"
He: ""
I: "ummm, you know, a hospital, a doctor?" (Referring to a doctor's coat through hand motions. No, that too does not make me Italian)
He: " 'said something alien with a nod' " and directed me outside the mosque.
I walked out of the mosque not realizing that there is worst is yet to come - I had to wear shoes. After a bit of an effort (on the first thought: promising that I will pray 5 times a day, and on the second: ok I will try my best) I walked out looking for a hospital. In most tourist places in Turkey, they have a police cabin outside the main site to keep those who need a bit of easy cash away from tourists. I went to a policeman and:
I: "English?"
Policeman 1: ""
I: "Do you speak English?"
Policeman 2,3: ""
I: "I need to go to a hospital, can you help?"
Policeman 1,2,3: Pointing towards Policeman 4
Policeman 4: "Yes."
I: "I need to go to hospital, I was bitten by an insect (I wanted to say animal but then refrained from it for some reason) inside the mosque"
Policeman 4: "Oh insect, what?"
I: Tried to explain with my hands what an insect is and even made it walk
Policeman 4: "You go doctor? "
I: "Yes please, thank you, please can you tell me the directions?"
Policeman 4: "Pain, pain?"
I: Surprised by the question I thought to myself 'No, there is no pain, I just have a habit of going around tourist places and getting bitten by strange creatures and whine in pain in front of a policeman asking for directions to a hospital'. Got a hold of myself and said: "Yes"
Policeman 4: Spoke to Policeman 1,2,3 and called another policeman who was the supervisor. Spoke to him about something - apparently explaining what happened.
Policeman 4: "Ok, you come"
I: thinking what? where to? Prison, no way!!! What did I do?
Policeman 4: "No, you come"
I: "But what have I ....... "
Policeman 4: "No no, you come"
The supervisor got the police car and put me in the back with three other officers along with me for maximum prisoner security. The only thing going through my mind at this point was that Pakistan and Turkey have good relations, so if I contact the embassy they might help me get out of jail. I saw the Turquoise minaret-like dome of Mevlana Rumis tomb and kept silent. Meri Tauba meri Tauba (NFAK) running in the background.
After about 15 minutes of driving we reached a huge building. I ran my eyes around to understand the surroundings. Something was written in Latin on the building which I could not read but my mind understood "Police Station" - police cars on one side, regular cars parked on one side, ambulances on one side. What? Ambulance? I looked at the Latin language on the building again and saw a crescent and a serpent wrapped around Asclepius' rod.
Accompanied by four Turkish policemen, I entered the hospital with full protocol. And yes, that meant that I got preference over all other patients as I was treated like a VIP (“Mein hoon Don” playing in my head). I waited for a few minutes (which I thought is not acceptable to me anymore because I was the VIP with bodyguards visiting a hospital) on a bed in a room that looked like an operation theater. A male nurse walked in and asked what happened. Again, I had to get my hands into action and show him how the insect looked and how it walked. To my surprise and fear, he pointed to a picture on the wall - a spider. I am not arachnophobic but the idea of being bitten by one (a black widow perhaps) was just not something I was planning to be fearless about. I vehemently denied the possibility and ignored the nurse as if he did not exist.
After talking to one another, the policemen and the nurse realized that it’s the patient they should be talking to. The nurse paged the doctor immediately who was out for lunch. They moved me immediately to the doctor's room. Women in Turkey are not that bad looking but a doctor standing at 5'8" was just something that had to be admired. As I looked at her the pain obviously started receding. (Nothing else matter (Metallica) playing in the background). However, after coming back to my senses I figured she was speaking only to other Turkish men and ignored me completely. She too could not speak English. My heart felt the pain and the stinging sensation came back – in my foot of course. She analyzed my foot which was weird for two reasons:
1. as a man I could not see a woman analyzing my feet not only because I was not her "majazi khuda" but also because it was against the chivalrous me
2. normally, I am the one who analyzes
She looked at the police officers and said something in a foreign language. One of the policemen asked me: "Do you have pain in back?". I looked at him surprised and scared. I thought to myself that maybe I should have accepted the theory of being bitten by a spider because this spider's venom (or whatever spider's bite has in it) affects the human spine and then paralyses the body, so the starting point is pain in the back. I said: "NO, its ........ its ...... my foot that hurts ...... not ..... my .... back". The Policeman: "Oh sorry! yes, yes foot, sorry English not good". The pain was still bad, but I was fine about it now after knowing no other part of the body would get amputated.
The doctor analyzed my foot again and needless to say she felt that I felt that her feeling my foot was an unusual feeling for me. She looked at the policeman and said something which he translated to something I had not expected at all: "Doctor say, nothing wrong. We go now".
Me: wo wo wo wo, "Nothing wrong? But I am in pain".
Policeman:"She say she give panadol but nothing to do".
Yes, it was beyond disappointment. Not because I wanted to see more of the good looking doctor, but because I felt stupid for wasting everyone’s time including the law enforcements'. I thought, 'wait a minute? Maybe they wanted to take me to prison after visiting the doctor, just like it happens in movies'. I looked at the doctor with the "puss in boots" look asking her to stop them from taking me away. She obviously was not bothered.
The policeman helped me out of the hospital and put me in the car. I could see my future behind bars. I was wondering if my dad would pay to bail me out. I had my doubts. After driving for about 20 minutes one of the policeman asked where I was from. Reluctantly I said: "Pakistan". Everyone heard that. Turned around and looked at me. I was sure I was going to Guantanamo Bay and cursed myself for not saying Iceland or Congo or Brunei. That thought however, lasted for a split second as all of them smiled and were really happy to know that I was Pakistani. That reminded me once again of the good relations between the two countries and I could now hope for freedom. Soon, we reached a place that looked very familiar as if I had been there some time back. Looked further and saw the turquoise dome of Rumi's tomb. The policemen dropped me back to the same place with a smile and lots of best wishes.
I had a 6 hour (which lasted 11 hours) bus ride to Pamukkale and the pain receded completely after about 7 hours - without any panadol. I was happy I didn’t die, or lose my foot or go to jail, but more than that I got a true flavor of Turkish hospitality and that too from the police. Soon I was to realize that this was just the start.
