When you're in a city like Istanbul, it's hard to find a quiet place for contemplation. No distractions. No noise. No people. Just quiet and peace.
I'm all about sitting at a coffee shop in Taksim and sipping a caffe latte while I watch the hundreds of people stroll down Istiklal, but sometimes I need something even more relaxing than that. Sometimes I need to tune out the entire city, all of its 18 million people, all of its bustle and jostling and pretend that I am truly alone.
Most times I don't even know that's what I need until I find myself there. I'll be walking down Istiklal heading somewhere like the bookstore or the art store when I find myself in front of the Saint Anthony Catholic Church and say, yes, of course, this is exactly what I needed.
If you know me personally, I'm sure you're going, whaaaa...?!?! I am, after all, about as irreligious as they get. I don't believe in a god and don't subscribe to any belief system.
Maybe it's because the church is so quiet, or because it's full of so many different people, or because somewhere deep down in my consciousness it reminds me of my own Western heritage, but strangely I feel comfortable in this particular Catholic church.
No one ever bothers me, or even talks to me, which I love. The tourists who visit are respectful and quiet, save for a few naughty Turkish boys who insist on jumping over the red velvet rope that separates the public pew area from the closed one.
I usually don't even tell Jeff when I visit the church. It seems so unlike me to do something like that, like a vegetarian sneaking to McDonald's for a cheeseburger. In fact, thinking about it now, when I told Jeff how I spent my day in Istanbul last Friday, I neglected to mention my visit to the church at all.
When I go I like to light two candles, one for my grandfather, who died more than 10 years ago, and one for Jeff's grandmother, who died just a couple of years ago.
I always think that it's funny, my lighting a candle for my Papa, the single most important man who shaped me into the atheist that I am today, considering that he didn't believe in a god either. I wonder what he would think about me lighting a candle in his memory in a Catholic church in a Muslim country.
But I also light one for Jeff's grandma, usually from the flame of my papa's candle, who was a devout Catholic and would likely appreciate the gesture a bit more.
I just really like the idea of lighting a candle for someone I love from a flame that was lit by someone else for someone that he loved. I wonder about all the candles there, when they were lit and by whom and whom they represent. How long will my papa's candle last, and who will use his flame to commemorate their own memory?
I think everyone, especially in a large city like Istanbul, needs a place where they can go for solitude. Somewhere where no one will bother you, where you can sit in perfect peace for as long as you like and no one will try to sell you a pack of tissues or ask where you're from.
Do you have a special place that you go to for peace and quiet?
