Harem: A Brief Glimpse Behind the Latticed Walls, Part 1

I've always been amazed at the number of people who travel to Istanbul and totally miss out on seeing the Topkapi Harem. Granted, you run the risk of long lines and are subjected to a guided tour, often led by monotonic young female docents totally uninterested in the beauty and historical mystique of the place. (I always assumed that perhaps they, too, like the odalisques who once graced those labyrinthine walls, had used opium to put them in the mood.) And as much as I know that no one upon returning from a trip wants to be told what they have missed out on, I still can't help but wonder what is on the mind of a guide who feels the Harem tours are actually optional.

When you step inside the beautiful latticed, tiled, and maze like walls of the Topkapi Harem, you step back in history to a time that has unfortunately been inaccurately and gratuitously portrayed in film and literature. For this was not a place where the Sultan invited men for a rollicking good time of wine and orgy. The word, harem, is derived from the Arabic, haram, which means, "unlawful" and "forbidden". The only men allowed inside the Harem were the sultan, his sons (who were also schooled there), and the eunuchs who took care of the women. It was a place in which the women were protected and isolated from the outside world; hence the feelings of loneliness, despair, and even terror (I'll cover this later) that led to the rampant use of opium among the young women. They even learned that it entered the bloodstream much more quickly if chewed rather than smoked.

Young, beautiful, non-Moslem girls, referred to as odalisques, were taken from the slave markets and presented to the Sultan, often by his governors. Some were kidnapped from the area around the Caucasus, or were sold by their parents. They were looked over by trained eunuchs to ensure they had no bodily imperfections prior to being presented to the Valide Sultana (Sultan's mother) for approval. Their Christian name was then changed to a Persian one, they converted to Islam, and began a very intricate and lengthy training in etiquette and Islamic culture. (You may recall in the Biblical account of Esther that the women went through a year of beauty treatments prior to being presented to King Xerxes.)

This obsession with beauty combined with the exotic mystery that permeates the Harem walls, are ever present when you walk through this enclosed section of the Topkapi Palace. You can sense the power, competitiveness, fear, and intrigue that engulfed the daily lives of the women. The last time I was there, I could even feel the whisk of a young odalisque glide past me in her flowing diaphanous costume, perhaps on her way to a private meeting with a eunuch who could gain her an audience with the Sultan. Or was she fleeing for her life, having given birth to the Sultan's son; an event which would have incurred the wrath, jealousy, and murderous plots of her rivals? The waters of the Bosporus are filled with the corpses of young Harem women who were placed in a sack and tossed into it's murky, swift flowing waters. This fact never escapes my imagination when I walk along it's shores on my trips to Istanbul, nor the fact that it was usually a eunuch who did the "sacking". Eunuchs became quite powerful and influential in the days of the Topkapi Harem. But this warrants another blog all to itself.

Travel advice for Americans in Europe from a former and still "wannabe" Expatriate

As last March began to draw near, I held a casual and informative meeting for the 15 people who were brave enough to trust me to take them to Rome and Western Turkey for 12 days. Who better to do this than someone as myself who had spent 16 years living in Germany, Greece and Turkey; someone who had embraced the cultures as well as the histories of each?

During the meeting, the more I talked, the more apprehensive my fellow travellers became. I warned them against the typical American faux paux of white tennis shoes, sweatsuits, baseball caps, and bright colors. Please understand that this warning was not an indication that I was ashamed of my country. Quite to the contrary, I spent 25 years proudly teaching our nation's history. But one of the things I've learned through many years of foriegn travel is that Americans are the least savvy and street wise of them all, and in many cities throughout the world (the pick pocket hubs) you do not want to draw attention to this fact.

Getting back to the meeting, I modeled rather slim fitting jeans (you know, taking my age into consideration), Euro style shoes, and a scarf wrapped around my neck, once again, Euro style. And since we were going to be in Rome, one of the worst places in the world for pick pockets, I also suggested to the ladies that they downsize their handbags, and if possible, even carry them under their coats. This was met with more acceptance than my suggestion that they wear dark colors. The next few weeks were spent with a few of them pulling me aside to ask if I approved of what they were currently wearing and would it be okay on the streets of Rome?

With the exception of a couple, most of my fellow travellers took my advice, and upon arrival in Rome, (a fabulous walking city), we moved around inconspicuously in our sea of black, brown, and navy. I'm absolutely serious when I say that 95% of the Romans wear black. While in the Piazza di Spagna, my friends tried to coax me into Prada, but all I could do was point to the Spanish Steps, a very popular meeting point, and ask, "Where's the color?" I kid you not, with the exception of the occasional American tourist, all were in black! Later, while admiring Hadrian's magnificent work of art, the Pantheon, I was shocked to see a splash of color out of the corner of my eye! As I slowly turned my head in that direction, the splash became a sea. A tour group that screamed American came into the piazza, wearing, what else but brightly colored sweat suits, jogging suits, and white tennis shoes. I elbowed my friend, tilted my head in their direction, and asked her where she thought they were from. She rolled her eyes, shook her head, and asked,"Are we going shopping for boots next to the Trevi or not?"