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It was the last 2 days of our Turkish tour, travelling with a bunch of interesting people led by our indomitable guide, Abdullah. Our tour group was not only interesting and sociable — 3 of them had become overnight heroes. An Indonesian tourist had suddenly arrested in the hotel restaurant the evening before, and the heroic trio, 2 men and a woman, had worked as a team to perform CPR on the poor guy. They did this for a full 20 minutes until the ambulance finally arrived. We heard later that the gentleman had pulled through and had had stents put in. Chris and I missed the drama as we had decided to have an early night to prepare for our long coach journey the next day but we learnt all about it at breakfast.

So it was goodbye to Cappadocia, the land of surreal landscapes, troglodyte villages and medieval, frescoed rock churches. It was goodbye to the colourful armada of hot-air balloons that were rising into the pink, dawn sky as we drove off. Our group of 40 ( plus guide and driver) settled down for the lengthy 330+ journey back to the Mediterranean coast at Antalya. We had seen some incredible sights but I guessed that the highlights of the trip were now all behind us. No journey in a foreign land is a waste of time however. This one was to throw up a couple of fascinating surprises.

The first surprise came only about 40 minutes in. We pulled into a roadside services that had been created out of an old, medieval caravanserai or desert inn. We were back on the route of the Silk Road from China, through central Asia to the eastern Mediterranean. Curiously, Abdullah said we must stand still and stop talking in 20 minutes time at 9.05 am precisely. We would then depart at 9.06. We were bemused and wondered what was happening. It turned out that it was the anniversary of Kemel Ataturk’s death in November, 1938 at the age of 57. His last breath was taken at 9.05am on the 10th. Ataturk was the much revered founder of modern Turkey in the early 1920s. So November 10th is a Turkish version of Remembrance Day. Coincidentally, the British Remembrance Day is just 24 hours later on the 11th. It was only now that I noticed that all the buildings were festooned with the red and white Turkish flag — a crescent moon cradling a single star. Many buildings also had large scale photos of the great man himself. So we stood to attention and bowed our heads at the appointed time and then were off again, driving across a featureless, flat plateau towards the city of Konya.

I had imagined Konya as an historical place full of ancient Ottoman buildings, evocative bazaars and colourful markets. However, as we approached, all we could see was a vast industrial estate, ranks of apartment and office blocks, busy roads and a modern tramway. It was a bit of a shock — the gap between expectation and reality. However, we were not to be disappointed, as soon we were gazing at one of Turkiye’s most celebrated religious sanctuaries — the original home of the Whirling Dervishes. It was worth the journey. Before I describe our memorable visit, some explanation is required.

Konya is a major place of pilgrimage in the Muslim world and special for all pious Turks because it was the adopted home of Jalal al Din Rumi. In Turkiye he is better known as the Mevlana or Our Master. Rumi or the Mevlana lived in the 13th century and was a poet, philosopher and mystic. His ideas led to a new and important strand of Islam, called Sufism, being formed. It’s a religion based on mysticism and centred on a ritual performed by the “Whirling Dervishes.” We had seen a performance by a group of Dervishes back in Cappadocia. It had been stressed to us that this was not a tourist entertainment but a genuine spiritual ceremony with the aim of uniting with God ( Allah.) There was to be no applause and no photos, except at the end when they came back for a brief curtain call. There were 5 men doing the spinning or whirling, another older guy who was a sort of master of ceremonies and 4 musicians who also sang . The whole ceremony lasted for 45 minutes.

The idea is that just about everything in the natural world is cyclical. For example, the rotation of the earth, the seasons, the water-cycle or the circulation of blood round the body. The aim of the Dervish ceremony is for the people involved to escape their earth- bound status, and become part of nature by spinning around in a circle. This would open them up to go on a spiritual journey towards God. At first they wore dark, closed cloaks and tall, dark, plant-pot like hats. These represent the earthly tomb that man’s ego is trapped in. Once the hats and cloaks are removed and they start to spin around, their white skirts fan out and allows them to escape their ego and be spiritually born again. At first the Dervishes have their arms closed tightly across their chests, but as they whirl, their arms open up. The right hand points up to God, while the left points down to the earthly shackles that have been left behind. That’s the theory anyway. It was very interesting and quite moving. The effect was lessened somewhat however when we saw one of them in the car park afterwards, now wearing his jeans and football shirt, checking his mobile and getting into a big, flashy car.

Anyway, here we were in Konya, where it had all started 1200 years ago. We were about to visit the museum and mosque that has been created around the Mevlana’s tomb. It was his mausoleum. Soon the focus of both pilgrims and tourists came into spectacular view. In front of us was a huge mosque- like building with 2 large domes, a tall minaret, a dozen smaller domes that sprouted along the roof-top like mushrooms and, most unusual of all a tall, turquoise, fluted tower. Upon closer inspection the tower was decorated with a band of blue and gold Arabic calligraphy. The Mevlana’s ornate tomb sits directly below this tower. The building was originally the first HQ or Lodge of the Dervish sect. It was started a year after the Mevlana’s death in 1273. More grand buildings were added by Sultans in the 15th and 16th centuries. The whole complex is surrounded by rose gardens. It stopped being a religious centre in the 1920s when Ataturk was establishing modern Turkey as a secular state.

We walked round the side the museum and into a large courtyard. Crowds of visitors were swirling around. In the middle was a place where worshippers were doing their ablutions. (cleansing themselves with water.) Round the side were the cells where the dervishes had prayed — now turned into an exhibition explaining sufism. To enter the building we had to put plastic covers over our shoes. The place was heaving. Above us were the domes, highly decorated with geometric patterns and fancy calligraphy. To our right were the elaborate tombs of Rumi, his father and his closest disciples. Each tomb was topped by a small wooden pole round which rich material was wrapped to create a kind of turban. The one on Rumi’s tomb was a deep turquoise green. This turban symbolises Rumi’s spiritual authority. The star tomb was naturally the Mevlana’s or Rumi as we know him in the west. It had scores of pilgrims, men, women and children, praying in front of it. Some even had tears in their eyes. Nobody worried about us tourists wandering around in the midst of all this religious fervour with our jaws dropping, as Sufism preaches that non-believers should be treated with respect.

Rumi’s tomb and its surroundings are exquisitely beautiful. The tomb area is supported by 3 ornate columns with archways in between. The walls have elaborate embellishments representing paradise. Broad pink, blue and green bands are adorned with golden Arabic script. The raised tomb itself has beaten gold ornaments inside and is covered with vitrified tiles on the outside. The sarcophagus is draped with a beautiful gold-embellished veil. It is topped with the already mentioned green turban. In front of it is a silver cage on which verses from the Koran are carved. The whole scene, with the worshippers and the richly decorated tomb was quite overwhelming. Chandeliers hung from the ceiling and above us were the beautifully decorated domes. It’s difficult to describe how wonderful it all was. It felt as if I was experiencing a part of the real Turkish life and that I wasn’t just in a tourist trap. A number of grand halls contained historical and religious artifacts and at the end we briefly peeped into women’s and men’s prayer rooms, showing that it is still an active place of worship.

The Rumi Museum and mausoleum in Konya was definitely one of the highlights of the whole trip for me. We eventually walked back to the coach and continued on our journey. We travelled on, eventually reaching the impressive Taurus Mountains. As soon as we reached the other side and descended on to the coast, we ended up in Antalya’s teatime rush hour. Our compensation was to witness a magnificent blood red sunset over the dark, distant mountain peaks. Then it was a late meal at the hotel, when we could swap notes with others in the group, before we finally hit the sack.

Our last day was spent in Antalya first of all visiting a jewellery workshop and then a leather outfit. The talks and demonstrations were interesting but the hard sell at the end wasn’t welcome for most of the group. We worked out that we were being dragged along to these places because they paid the tour company to deliver us there and thus subsidised the holiday that we had all been attracted to by the bargain price. Finally we were set free in the old town and harbour for 3 hours but as we were tired and were nervous of getting lost Chris and I just had a little potter around a small, defined area and shared a nice meal with another couple whom we had teamed up with. The bit we saw of Antalya was pretty tacky and commercialised but I’m sure there would be some interesting parts to discover if we had had more time and energy. For instance, the Rough Guide says the Archaeological Museum there is outstanding. Maybe next time , if we go there on an independent trip.

We left early next morning for our flight back to rainy Manchester. We were hoping for a quiet, smooth departure but our luggage got lost and we spent a tense, uncomfortable half hour in the departures lounge waiting to be reunited with it, as we eventually were. It had been a great trip overall, albeit tiring and hectic because of the sights and experiences that had been packed in to just 6 whirlwind days. We learnt a lot, saw a lot, met lots of interesting people, had a few disappointments but enjoyed many, memorable highlights. One last thrill was seeing the Swiss Alps as we flew over the entire length of Europe back to the UK. Now it was time to get back to reality and catch up on sleep. The Premier Inn’s bed in Manchester was extremely comfortable!