Travelling Hopefully - Giving it a Whirl

 After a few days crawling into holes and over suggestively shaped rocks we piled into our faithful mechanical steed and headed to Konya.

Konya is the fifth, sixth or seventh largest city in Turkey depending on refugee influx and who’s counting. It’s also the centre of Turkey’s wheat belt and a major car parts manufacturer. But all of this pales into insignificance compared with one other fact our guide imparted. Konya is the most conservative city in Turkey. There was a pause as that sank in then a trembling voice from the rear asked the question we were all thinking. “Does this mean we can’t buy alcohol?” Our guide dolefully confirmed that this was the case. Wisely the guide had waited to tell us of this fact until we were actually on the road. Nevertheless there was a concerted scramble for the windows as we attempted to flee back to Goreme.

Despite our tearful pleas the minibus continued towards Konya. Of course Konya has more to offer than just the sight of a collection of senior citizens undergoing delirium tremens. It is also the death place of Rumi. His full name was apparently Jalal al Din Muhammad Rumi. The “Rumi” was a nickname meaning “Roman” which he wasn’t. But he gained his fame in the Seljuk Sultanate of Rum which was so called because their territory was traditionally Roman or at least it was until the Seljuks arrived. Rumi was actually Persian by which I mean he was born in Afghanistan.

Rumi founded the Mevlevi order of Islamic mystics who would become famous to people who knew nothing of Islam or Sufism as the Whirling Dervishes. Rumi’s romb is a magnificent building, now a museum, and we were able to walk through it along with what appeared to be half the population of Turkey. Rumi himself is apparently buried under a gorgeous turquoise spire. Apparently Rumi had asked for his tomb to be open to the air so he could look up at the sky but his followers hadn’t been able to resist honouring him by building an impressive pile over the top of him. They coloured it turquoise in the hopes that Rumi would still feel he was looking at the sky. It’s an interesting lesson in exactly how much people are going to honour the wishes of even the most respected person once they’ve unlikely to return and berate you.

That night we went to a Whirling Dervish performance which was a lot more elegant and impressive than my ignorant mind had imagined.