Konya doesn’t get a lot of the tourist pie. There’s not a whole lot in Konya to bring the masses. The exception to this is in December when Konya hosts a week long festival celebrating the birth of the Sufi poet and philosopher Jellaladin Rumi, who settled and died there. The main attraction, therefore, is the Mevlana Museum with the famous Yeşil Türbe (Green Tomb), where he lays next to his father. His epitaph reads:
“When we are dead, seek not our tomb in the earth, but find it in the hearts of men.”

The museum features articles of clothing that are believed to have been his as well as instruments and tools used by early Sufis. There is even a graveyard where ney (flute) players were buried, their gravestones bearing the symbol of a Sufi, the distinctive tall cone-shaped hat. There were also Qu’rans that dated back to the 11th century, many with exquisite paintings and gilt-edged pages. Unfortunately, pictures were not allowed, so my memory need suffice.

I was puzzled to see people here and there with their eyes closed, hands held in prayer, mumbling under their breath at certain exhibits. At a box believed to contain a lock of Prophet Muhammed’s hair for example. They were praying, of course, but this very much goes against Sufi beliefs, and in fact most religions, about false idolatry. There are a lot of Muslims, particularly people from the village, who adhere to superstitious ways and allow that to spill over into their faith. As I say, this is forbidden in Islam, but it goes on anyway.

Even people who have never been to Konya feel free to complain about it. “It’s too conservative”, they say. And there’s certainly truth to that. “They don’t drink during Ramazan.” Ummmmm, no Muslim is permitted to do that. “Women don’t wear miniskirts.” Again true, but I don’t see why we should base a city’s merit on what women wear in the streets. I actually expected to see far more covered women than I saw. I only saw one or two women in burkas the whole time I was there, in other words, much less than I see here in Istanbul on a daily basis. I did buy a pair of pants because I didn’t want to be walking around with a bunch of flesh hanging out, but that was my personal choice. Nobody looked at me strangely. I didn’t feel any hostile eyes. One guy in a Muslim skullcap did get up and leave as I walked over to a park bench, but maybe he was just going anyway.
The point is that while Konya may well be religiously conservative, being there was not the least bit off-putting.

I would add this in Konya’s defense. It is also criticized as being the fortress of the AKP, the leading religious conservative party in power here. Prime Minister Erdoğan can always count on his brothers in Konya. And it’s obvious that they are amply rewarded for this allegiance. When you travel through Konya, you cannot help but pick up this unmistakable impression:

Konya is working. It is a working, prosperous town.

The roads and new and wide. Avenues are clearly marked with big signs. A new tramway system cuts along the main avenues. The streets and parks are very clean. And everyone rides a bicycle. It’s like a little bit of Amsterdam right here in Turkey. Of course, when you live somewhere that is THAT flat, you ought to ride a bike, not to mention how economical it is. And, really, bike riding means less air pollution and more people getting daily exercise. How can you lose?
I still remember being shocked when I first moved here. I never saw anyone running or riding a bike or doing anything more remotely athletic than lifting a beer mug to their mouth. When I asked why this was, a Turk said to me: “In Turkey, we have a saying (they have thousands, so you are always hearing them!), “Why run when you can walk? Why stand when you can sit? Why sit when you can lay down?” On the whole, this is a pretty lazy culture, if you ask me. So it did my heart good to see people cycling all over Konya.

Of course, it didn’t hurt my over–all Konya experience that we were staying at a new five-star hotel. But I should stress that just because a hotel has a certain number of stars, it doesn’t mean that they came by them legitimately. Some actually buy their stars in a bribe, much like Hollywood studios pay off movie reviewers. We stayed at a “five star” hotel in Abant in the spring that I would graciously give three, and that’s because I’m in a good mood.

But the new Rixos (a chain hotel) was the real deal. The boyfriend figured that we deserved a little luxury after being eaten alive by insects the night before. It was only reasonable, therefore, that we stay in a hotel with a pillow menu. By the way, what is up with these things? Is that really necessary? I can think of lots of things I’d rather have in a five star hotel, like a bathrobe I wouldn’t mind tucking into my suitcase. Do people really need six choices of pillow? Have we become so spoiled as a culture? Don’t answer that.