Jerusalem in the Morning, Istanbul in the Afternoon, and the Case of the Missing Computer

July 24th, 2008 On a bus from Thessaloniki to Meteora, Greece
My alarm sounded at 4:30 on Sunday morning. Adam and I grudgingly got out of our sleeping bags, showered, and began the long walk to the central bus station. We boarded a bus to Tel Aviv and, an hour later, we were at the airport.

Israeli airport security is an interesting thing: you never really know what will happen. Some of my friends who have spent several months working in the West Bank have walked through without a problem; others who came to visit for a week were held and questioned for three hours. Adam and I experienced something in between.

We entered the line and were asked a few questions about our stay before putting our luggage through the X-Ray scanner. We then took our bags over to a desk where they were basically emptied and rubbed down by three different people. As this was happening, someone in a suit asked me detailed questions about my stay in the country. I said nothing about the West Bank except for visiting Bethlehem, filling up my nine-and-a-half week stay with the tour, Egypt, Jordan, the Golan, and a lot of time traveling by myself. He informed me that a problem occurred with my computer. Their scanners were detecting something very disturbing and the chief of security came down and began interrogating me. She wanted to know if I stayed in any homes in Egypt or Jordan and if anyone other than me and my traveling companions had access to my computer. I was taken into a back room two different times and asked to pass through a metal detector; the second time I was massaged by an Israeli security guard. When I returned back to the desk, the man in the suit told me that I could not take my computer. According to him, the tests they needed to conduct would take too long. He said all of this as they bubble-wrapped my laptop and stuck down in a white box, giving me the impression that they really weren’t going to check it. When I arrived in Istanbul, he said, I needed to go to Lost and Found and make a file concerning my laptop, which would be shipped to me on a later flight. Life was certainly going to be made more difficult, but very interesting, by leaving it, but I didn’t have anything compromising on it: I had deleted all of my stories for the Palestine Monitor a few days before and had deleted all of my pictures from the West Bank from my computer and buried them on my external hard-drive, which, thankfully, I was allowed to keep. They wrapped my power cord for the computer in bubble-wrap and shipped it as checked luggage on my Turkish Airlines flight. That was weird. They were very polite and apologetic as they took my computer away, checking us into our flight and escorting us through several other security measures so that we wouldn’t have to wait any longer. I suppose there are benefits to several hours in Israeli security.

I slept most of the two-hour flight until we touched down in Istanbul, Turkey. I love adding new countries to my résumé. We purchased visas (Australians are the only people who don’t need a visa, because of the Battle of Gallipoli in WWI) and filed through passport control, picking up our bags and heading over to the Lost and Found desk. After ten minutes, I was told that my computer wasn’t, in fact, on my flight. I thanked them for that information and carefully tried to make my case clearer. Someone eventually made a file and gave me a few pieces of paper.

Adam and I sat down near the ramp where all the new arrivals were entering. Adam listened to his iPod and I started Jesus for President: Politics for Ordinary Radicals, by Shane Claiborne and Chris Haw. So far, it’s really quality stuff, but that’s to be expected from the guy who wrote The Irresistible Revolution. After an hour, Michael Wright came through passport control, his fists raised in triumph. Michael is one of my very closest friends from Harding. A fellow English Literature major, he graduated in May and decided to join us in Istanbul and travel with us to Greece before meeting his family for a week in Ireland. We had been very excited about this trip and the opportunity to travel together and I was glad to meet up with him.

We found our way down to the metro where we met a guy named Matt from Birmingham, England, who has been teaching English in Taiwan for the last four years and just finished traveling West Africa for five months. He tagged along with us to the end of the line, where we hailed a taxi and drove to the square of Sultanahmet. The Haghia Sophia sat to our left and the Blue Mosque rose across a green lawn decorated with a flowering fountain. I was impressed by the city planning. A group of conservative Muslim women huddled together and smiled and pointed at me.
“Muhanned,” one of them said.

I think I might miss that when I leave. My self-esteem was given quite a boost when I discovered that I was every Middle Eastern woman’s Turkish soap opera dream.

We walked around the corner of the Haghia Sophia past Topkapi Palace, journeying down a winding street to the Orient Hostel, located on an attractive side street filled with small cafés and restaurants. Michael had made reservations for us and we threw our bags down in the thirty-bunk dormitory. We could see the Haghia Sophia and the Blue Mosque from the roof. We walked back up to the square and walked around, getting a feel for the city. The three of us wandered down through cobble-stoned streets to the Marmara Sea. Families grilled out on the grass and long fishing poles cast out to sea beside the fleet of ships floating off the shore. We sat in the square of Sultanahmet before having dinner at a restaurant on a corner near our hostel. The delicious taste of the food was dulled a bit by our check, but at least we were treated to authentic Turkish cuisine. We sat on the roof with Matt and a few Australians before descending into the furnace of the dorm room and sweating ourselves to sleep.

After breakfast in the morning, we made reservations for a bus to Greece and I began my quest to obtain the missing computer. The hostel had their own travel agent, and he called the airport for me several times over the next two days. We heard nothing new that morning, so Adam, Michael, and I set out to explore the vast city of Istanbul.

The Blue Mosque, adorned with its many domes and six minarets, was our first destination. The structure, which is one of the most famous religious buildings in the world, received its name from the colorful tilework decking its interior. Built between 1609 and 1616, some considered the impressive mosque to be sacrilegious because it seemed to rival the architecture of the holy city of Mecca.

(written July 26th, 2008 Onboard train from Kalambaka to Athens, Greece)
We went around the corner of Haghia Sophia to Topkapi Palace, a huge extravagant complex built as the primary residence of Mehmet II between 1459 and 1465. Four huge courtyards housed the many buildings that comprised the fortress. We first entered the Harem, and I think we all know what happened there. The labyrinthine series of rooms, some decorated by faded paintings, once housed the king’s wives, concubines, and children, all guarded by eunuchs. I would assume that they didn’t volunteer for that job. The three of us explored all four courtyards, browsing through the treasuries, the throne room, the armory, and the Circumcision Pavilion. Again, the name says it all. Balconies along the edge of the palace provided excellent views of the sea. I tried to imagine the place without all the tourists, and to see the sultans walking around in their exquisite robes, followed by scurrying servants with fans, gazing out to the untamed sea and the lands beyond.

The Grand Bazaar, also built by Mehmet II in 1453, was our next stop, so we hiked across town and walked through the arched doorway. The interweaving streets, closed on either side by shops and covered by arching ceilings, were similar to the Old City of Jerusalem, though much wider and fancier. I happen to enjoy the Old City much more, which is certainly much older and seemed less touristy in a way. However, the Grand Bazaar is still undeniably impressive. The venders sold a wide variety of things, from rugs to shoes to brass to meerschaum pipes, each shopkeeper asking how we were and where we were from before inviting us to peruse their merchandise. Michael enjoyed the souvenir-shopping more than Adam and I did. The only thing the two of us bought, besides Adam’s new pipe, were kebabs in a little restaurant.

We walked toward the sea, meandering through the Book Bazaar and making a quick stop at Süleymaniye Mosque, which also contained the tomb of Süleyman the Magnificent. We decided that we were tired of paying to get into things, so we skipped out on going inside and moved on to the Spice Bazaar. Built in the 17th century and shaped like the letter “L,” the market was filled with the smell of hundreds of different spices, all piled up in colorful mountains on tables. Soon, the sea was before us, and we walked onto the Galata Bridge near the New Mosque, passing over the Golden Horn, which has been described as the world’s greatest natural harbor, to the other side. We began climbing up the hill, eventually coming to Galata Tower. Dating from the sixth century, the tower, tipped with an upside-down cone, rose 196 feet and, unfortunately, cost 10 lira. The view from the top wasn’t really going to be anything different than what we had already seen, so we decided to continue on and simply explore the streets dripping down the steep hill. We stopped by Mevleve Monastery but it was closed for restoration “until a few months,” so we sat at the base of the Galata Tower and enjoyed sitting. Ah, the simple pleasures in life . . .

After we crossed back over the Golden Horn, we entered the New Mosque, which is a rather relative name, considering that it was begun in 1597 (though it wasn’t completed for another sixty-six years). The colorful tiles of the interior were reminiscent of the Blue Mosque. The architecture of the mosques in Istanbul was incredible.

We had a great kebab for dinner near the Sultanahmet square. The food was very cheap, which made us all happy. Michael and Adam turned in soon after we got back to the hostel; I sat on the roof for a little wile, watching boats pass through the moon’s glow on the water. Behind me, the Blue Mosque and the Haghia Sophia glowed like lighthouses.

The next morning, we saw the Haghia Sophia. Out of all the impressive structures that we saw in Istanbul, this was for me the most impressive and the most beautiful. The Haghia Sophia (or “Holy Wisdom”) was a Byzantine church converted into a mosque and then a museum, and is over 1,400 years old. Buttresses support the roof’s many domes which cover the cavernous interior: the main sanctuary, which was designed to reflect the expanse of the heavens, soars up to the ceiling 184 feet above the floor. A large mosaic of Jesus and Mary loomed behind the apse. We climbed a series of winding steps to the second level where we saw a series of exquisite mosaics lit by the sunlight from the adjacent windows, through which I could see the Blue Mosque across the square. As Michael and Adam walked around, I sat and looked at the mosaics and the vast sanctuary and the people walking and just listened.

We returned to the Grand Bazaar, following a path marked in Michael’s guidebook that took us to the oldest section of the market. As we ate a cheap kebab for lunch, we met some American girls and had a very interesting conversation. The two were Christians and had been traveling with a group in Europe, spending time with gypsies and “just sharin’ the love of God with them.” I was very impressed with their work, with the fact that they were touching people considered untouchable, but not so much with what seemed to be an overly “spiritual” (and I put that in quotation marks for a reason) Christianity. I grow uncomfortable when the only thing associated with “the power of Christ” or genuine spirituality is “miraculous” healings. I don’t believe that Jesus’ signs were the point of his message; rather, they were (go figure) signs pointing to and supporting his message. The girls talked about the need to feel the Holy Spirit moving in you and us using it to do powerful things. All I could think of was “Use the Force, Luke,” as if God is some sort of impersonal substance we tap into and use to make things all better. As we prepared to leave, one of them prayed for us and put her hands on our heads (which is something with which I have absolutely no problem, just so you know) in order to “anoint you with the Spirit that dwells in me and just for you to just pour into them, Holy Spirit God, just to fill with just your power and wisdom, Father God.” They were very friendly and I appreciated their desire to pray for us, but our versions of following Jesus certainly differed in some ways.

We walked all over Istanbul that day, veering off the beaten path to get away from the tourists. We walked through streets of decaying wooden homes squeezed between stained apartments. The three of us followed the road under Valens Aqueduct and ended up at a dilapidated mosque which had once been a Byzantine church, as many of the mosques had been. However, a man outside tried to make us pay to walk around, so we left.

After walking way out where no tourists have walked before (which might be an overstatement, but it felt like it), we entered the Church of St. Savior in Chora, dating back to the eleventh century and known for its Byzantine frescoes and mosaics. The church’s reputation was well-deserved: the walls and ceilings were arrayed with majestic art depicting the Scriptures and the saints, filling the dim church with color and life. The artwork, created by theologian and philosopher Theodore Metochites between 1315 and 1321, was grouped in series, such as the Genealogy of Christ, the Infancy of Christ, the Life of the Virgin, and Christ’s Ministry. The frescoes were housed in the pareclesion, the most stunning of which was the one called the Anastasis. The fresco centers around Jesus, standing above the Gates of Hell as he pulls Adam and Eve out from their graves: Jesus as the Death-conqueror and the Life-giver.

When I said that we walked all over the city, we really did. We continued from the church and strolled next to the ancient walls of the city and down through residential areas where, hallelujah, no tourists were in sight. After we visited the Haghia Sophia, I had returned to the hostel to call the airport about my computer. I was told that they definitely had it, but the travel agent at the hostel suggested that I go and pick it up, because I had no guarantee that they would deliver it on time. So, after we saw all of Istanbul, Adam and Michael graciously accompanied me to the airport. We had a very hard time finding where we needed to go, because each person we asked sent us to a different place until we felt like we were following clues on the trail of some mystery. Finally, I was allowed through the gates and back to the Turkish Airlines lost and found, where I had gone after we landed. I was then told that they most definitely did not have my computer. They took me inside the storage room and showed me that it wasn’t there. Perhaps, said the man working, my computer would come on the 10:45PM flight. I left feeling quite defeated.

Once we got back to Sultanahmet, I went straight to the hostel to see if, by some crazy chance, the airport had actually delivered my computer. I was greeted by another surprise.

“You’re Jonathan, right?” asked the guy behind the desk, holding a phone to his ear.
When I answered positively, he said, “Well, your mom’s on the phone.”
A little shocked, I took the phone and said, “Hey Mom: how the heck did you get this number?”

She then proceeded to tell me that my computer was in Istanbul. A white package showed up on the doorstep of some family and they called the number on the outside, which was my home phone number. They now had my laptop and would be returning it to me. I was sorry that my mom was on the phone and not there in person, because I really wanted to hug her for delivering that wonderful message (and for just being my mom, of course). She gave me the number for the family and after I hung up the guy behind the desk called them. The story got even more interesting: it turned out that my computer was actually sent to the home of the Prime Minister of Turkey. I’m not exactly sure how Israeli security confused me for that guy. The police now had possession of my laptop and were going to bring it to me and ask me a few questions. Apparently, an unknown box from Israel arriving at the Prime Minister’s home is a red-flag issue.

I waited for a little while and read, but no one came for a long time, so I met the guys next to the fountain and told them the story as we ate dinner at the cheap restaurant off the square. I quickly returned to the hostel to see if anyone came. I learned that I now had to go to the police in order to retrieve my laptop. The feeling that I was a part of some crime drama grew; you know, one that’s set in faraway places and involves exotic locales, dimly-lit basement rooms, and nighttime escapades in the city.

I got a taxi and sped off into the city. The taxi took me to the headquarters of the Istanbul police. I passed through security and left my camera at the entrance. I tried to explain my reason for being there to the guys sitting at the desk. Their English was better than my Turkish, but still a little broken. They asked me about my stay.

“Do you like Turkey?” asked one.
“Oh yeah,” I said enthusiastically.
“Do you like Turkish police?” he said, and everyone laughed.
“I do now.”

He made a few phone calls and one of the policemen led me through the doors and up a very wide expanse of steps leading up to a vast level place surrounded by three towering buildings. He took me into the building on the left, passing me off to someone else who took me down into the basement and through a long corridor to the room at the end. A man sat behind a large wooden desk facing a gigantic muted TV that was playing Police Academy 2. The man behind the desk was the Superintendent of the Istanbul Police.

“So, my computer was sent to the home of the Prime Minister of Turkey?” I asked, still finding the whole situation hard to believe.
He took a deep breath and smiled.
“Yes. Crazy, yeah?”

He was incredibly friendly and we swapped getting-shot-at stories and travel adventures while someone made copies of my papers from the airport. Then, a guy brought in a white box and set it on the table, my laptop sitting on the top. I laughed. I signed a paper saying that I received my computer, shook the Superintendent’s hand, and walked out. The guards at the entrance laughed and waved as I walked back through, holding the box above my head. They gave me my camera and called a taxi for me. And that is my incredible adventure with the Istanbul police and how the case of the missing computer came to an end. I went to bed a happy man.