East Meets West

This week’s Mustard Seed finds us on the border not of two countries but of two continents. With our van  running well but our funds running low we picked up a trio of travellers to share expenses — two Swedish men, a tall blonde and a taller redhead, and a shorter American girl with a guitar and a lovely voice.
We had a relatively uneventful time until we reached Istanbul. The city spans the Bosporus Strait, half in Europe and half in Asia. It has been a strategic military location for many empires. We seemed to be breathing history.
    We saw the obelisk of Thutmose III, built in Egypt during the fifteenth century BC, then split in three, moved to Istanbul, and re-erected by Roman Emperor Theodosius I in the fourth century AD. We toured the sixth-century Hagia Sophia and Basilica Cistern, the fifteenth-century Topkapi Palace and Grand Bazaar, and the seventeenth-century Blue Mosque. The Topkapi Palace housed stupendous collections of diamonds, pearls, emeralds, gold, ivory etchings, enamels, tapestries, and other things. Such wealth is unimaginable, it left an indelible impression.
     As amazing as those things were, we found the people even more fascinating. In those days many young westerners travelled east seeking enlightenment — a la The Beatles encounter with Maharishi Mahesh Yogi. Istanbul was the bottleneck through which travellers passed in both directions. It was easy to discern which direction they were headed. Young people heading east wore jeans, Polos, and hiking boots; were clean-shaven; and sported backpacks. Those returning wore kaftans, loose cotton pants, and sandals; sported henna tattoos; and carried Afghani bags.
   With so much to absorb, we stayed much longer than we originally intended. Our travel companions decided to return to Munich by train so we broke bread a final time and bade our farewells. We opted to stay in a hotel that night to avail ourselves of the shower. The next morning as I walked to our usual café a young fellow we had just met came running out of his hotel wrapped in a blanket. “All my gear is gone! They stole everything, even my knickers with the skid marks."
     I calmed him down and offered to buy him breakfast. At the café I persuaded other travellers to each contribute one article of clothing and a few dollars.” After breakfast he accompanied me to our van where I discovered we, too, had been robbed. I went back to inform my sister. I consoled her with the fact that we at least had our passports, travellers’ cheques, the clothes we wore, and the clothes we’d worn the previous day.
     As we walked about discussing what to do next I spied some of our belongings in a pawn shop. The proprietor claimed he bought them from a two-metre-tall redhead accompanied by another fellow and a girl. He was not surprised to learn they’d been stolen. He returned them to us asking us not to involve the police.
     There couldn't be more than one two-metre redhead in Istanbul. We knew which train they’d be on and went to confront them. I explained our situation to the station attendant; he allowed me to board the train. All three of them cowered in their seats as I approached. I asked how they could do such a thing. They squirmed but said nothing. I demanded the proceeds from their sale. They handed over a few US dollars and a few Deutschmarks, pennies on the dollar but at least it was something. I thanked them for the songs and the good times we had together, let them know how hurt I was, and prayed that they would amend their ways.
     When I emerged from the train my sister and our friends asked why I hadn’t called the police. This was about two months prior to the release of Midnight Express so there was plenty of hype describing the horrors of Turkish prisons. I asked how I could condemn anyone to that. I reasoned that one can’t teach good by showing bad.
     Next week: Cold Turkey.
                                                             God bless.

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