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After seven weeks in Arab lands I entered Turkey and immediately wished I could turn back. It was too touristy, too organised, too clean and too European for me. I couldn't see how Turkey could ever impress the seasoned Arabian adventurer that I now was... until I got stuck in a 14th century Anatolian Mosque at prayer time and had to bow to Allah...
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Allah have Mercy!

Xtinemichaud
2005-12-23 16:54:48

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After seven weeks in Arab lands I entered Turkey and immediately wished I could turn back. It was too touristy, too organised, too clean and too European for me. I couldn't see how Turkey could ever impress the seasoned Arabian adventurer that I now was... until I got stuck in a 14th century Anatolian Mosque at prayer time and had to bow to Allah...

Ever since I had been ordered to wear a neon pink sweat vest pulled over my head in Cairo's Al Azhar for the sake of being pious, I had had a really hard time taking mosques seriously. But for some reason, the Ulu Mosque of Bursa just felt different. For one, the marble ablution fountains just outside the entrance, busy with dozens of worshippers washing their hands and feet before their midday prayer, were something I had never seen. Even Bursa itself felt like a very pious city where veiled women abound and tourists are next to non-existent. The whole atmosphere was right for this to be a great Mosque.

The atmosphere was so pious indeed that I stood outside the main entrance door by the ablution fountain for about twenty minutes trying to figure out whether this mosque was open to visitors or not and wishing I carried a headscarf. At last, a lone tourist among hundreds of local worshippers, I shyly walked up the marble stairs and peaked inside.

To my surprise, the first thing I saw was a large white board listing visitors' guidelines in various languages. Some of these were: "Do not visit during prayer time (when people are kneeling and bowing), it will only last about 20 minutes. Do not walk in front of people who are praying. Women visitors are asked to cover their heads and shoulders with shawls provided by the management."

Shawls! I turned to the young crippled boy sitting by the entrance and pulled an imaginary scarf over my head, raising my eyebrows in interrogation. He simply nodded, went into the mosque and came ...