Zipping down Route 278 through Jamaica, Queens in New York City in my Hertz rental car from JFK

International Airport, I suddenly found myself uttering the words God Bless America. After five months spent living in Istanbul, Turkey one of the worlds largest cities brimming to the bursting point with fourteen million souls I was on my way back home to Ridgway. And what brought forth this sudden ejaculation? Unlike Istanbul which has very few public green spaces, Queens looked like the Garden of Eden with its verdant strips of towering trees lining the city neighborhoods. It felt great to be back in the U.S. for a multitude of reasons. My adventures in Turkey began in 2009 when I spent two months as a volunteer English teacher in private homes in the cities of Istanbul and Izmir. I had never met a Muslim and I had only conquered around fifty Turkish words. Traveling considerably, I gained many insights into their religion, politics and culture, and despite my poor language skills, I had the time of my life. I made many wonderful Muslim friends, both secular and pious, and found the truism people are basically all the same, well, true. Compelled to share my experiences and insights, I published the first edition of my book Turkey Uncovered, and returned to Turkey each consequent year for vacations, exploring many fabulous regions and sites. In May of 2013, an opportunity arose for me to live with a family in Istanbul and I jumped at the chance. My new home was on the Asian side in a far flung modern suburb called Kurtky, a good hour-and-a-half from the popular old city area on the European side. With a bustling population of approximately 350,000 Muslim souls, Kurtky is a magnet that draws an immense number of job-seekers from the rural countryside along with residents of Istanbul who wish to escape their cramped, and more expensive, quarters. From the day I arrived to the day I left I felt like an alien who didnt belong. This feeling came as a great shock after my previous experiences which were much more inclusive. The causes were many, and in every case, I gained a striking new appreciation for things we take for granted in the United States. Unlike my previous exposure to primarily secular Turks, this town was brimming with people of a more conservative bent. While black burqas are a rare site, ninety percent of adult women wear traditional clothing, which means a head scarf that did not allow a strand of hair to escape, long sleeved blouses and full length skirts or slacks, all encased in a light jacket that fell down to their knees no matter how hot the weather. Sandals appeared to be taboo. In the heat of the summer I revised my attire to nothing more shocking than knee length shorts and short-sleeved tops but I still felt naked in comparison. Despite the fact I never caught a disapproving glance I felt like a fish out of water. Speaking of head scarves, which are truly lovely creations, I must explain their significance. In Turkey, as in much of the Muslim world, they are viewed as a symbol of modesty, tradition and religious conservatism which often makes secularists shudder. They have been illegal to wear on college campuses, government buildings or by public sector workers (including teachers) for the ninety years since the founding of the republic in the 1920 s because Atatrk and his secular party considered them to be a sign of backwardness. The law was just changed in October of 2013 applauded by conservatives but viewed by many secularists as creeping Islamism. Of course in America, it is definitely NOT the business of the government to tell anyone what to wear on their heads, and personally I do think that if a woman wants to wear a scarf, she should be able to.

I also developed a new appreciation for our First Amendment which defines a firm separation of church and state. In contrast, the Turkish government (officially secular) has extensive control over religion via a Department of Religious Affairs which reports directly to the Prime Minister. This department is responsible for managing the religious bureaucracy for the majority Sunni Muslims, provides religious education in public schools, and controls the content of standard sermons to be given in the mosques. While originally intended to keep a firm grip on religion to prevent excesses, it is easy to surmise that their relationship of religion and state can be influenced directly by the orientation of the political leadership, explaining the current fears of secularists regarding Turkeys current religiously conservative leadership. As you can see, all democracies are NOT created equal and I prefer the United States version! In a lighter note about daily life, my complex contained a gorgeous pool boasting a chlorine free technology that made for delightful swims. If the ladies were encased in full garb on the streets, what might they wear at a pool? The vast majority of adult women would not even enter the pool area. Some, in full dress, would sit on a chair sweating while watching their children cavort; more often the fathers were the ones in the water with the kids while their wives socialized under nearby pavilions. And while there were a handful of Turkish women decked out in western bathing suits even bikinis I always felt uncomfortable even in my staid one-piece. They were a grim lot, but if I was dressed like they were in the heat, I wouldnt be smiling either. My only friends at the complex were a group of lively young girls between eight and twelve years of age who frequented the pool and playground. They loved to come and play and talk with the American and practice their English. Screaming at my approach Dalee, Dalee, I was the most popular adult at the pool, often surrounded by a bevy of youngsters. Yet not one of their mothers ever stopped to say hello. I taught them to play Scrabble and Turkish Monopoly and I rue the day when they might be forced to cover their free hair and bodies and lose their lovely open smiles and open attitudes. I came to dislike walking around the town because every vacant spot of land looked like an illegal landfill. There is no Keep Turkey Beautiful organization in Turkey. Everything from household waste to construction debris produced a landscape that appeared as though a small tornado had recently made a visitation. I never could get past these visually offensive and depressing sites and I had to control my temptation to bring out garbage bags and start cleaning up. I could have spent twenty-four hours a day for six months and not made a dent, and would probably have risked arrest as a lunatic, or be viewed as a beggar searching for something useable, just like the extremely poor citizens I would see every day searching through public dumpsters (it was a regular business). It is the Turkish version of recycling. It was such a relief to get back the States and not have to face a barrage of litter every day. And, ahhh, the dogs. In Turkey, strays are a common site on public streets, usually with tags in their ears indicating they have been neutered. Mangy and flea bitten, the poor things have the run of the town, sometimes limping along on three limbs due to run-ins with vehicles. But they were friendly enough, and I became accustomed to being followed by a pack of seven or eight when carrying grocery bags home. They only stay alive because many residents dump edible leftovers of stale bread and the occasional batch of chicken bones by the public sidewalks. This was a heartbreaking culture shock I could never get over.

Lets talk a little about mosques camiis in Turkish (pronounced jammies). An interesting fact about mosques in Turkey is that the structure often includes a small supermarket I must admit it makes after-worship shopping very convenient! And just like the churches in Ridgway, there seems to be a mosque on every corner. What this meant to me was that I was living within close earshot of not just one mosque, not just two mosques, but three mosques. In my previous trips to Turkey, the mosques were further away, and I enjoyed their five-times-a-day starting at 5 AM calls to prayer wafting through the neighborhood, and I missed them when I returned to America. But in Kurtky, I was shocked by the uncoordinated cacophony blasted at high decibels through loudspeakers strung around their minarets. By the end of my second month, I began to have terribly unspiritual visions of taking a shotgun and disabling their eminently uncivilized loudspeakers. Many of my Turkish friends admitted they too disliked this auditory bombardment, and attributed the din to the mosque building craze accompanied by increasingly obnoxious amplification under the current conservative government. I suppose its all what you get used to growing up. I am sure a Sunday full of American lawnmowers charging full bore for hours on end would unhinge any Muslim from urban Istanbul where green grass is a rarity; as might the hourly chiming of our Elk County Courthouse clock. Muslims could make the argument that we are even more uncivilized by making sure everyone is potentially awakened not just five, but twenty-four hours a day. And then there was Ramazan (Ramadan) in July, the month of fasting that is one of the five pillars of Islam. In reality, many Turks do not practice it all, some practice to some degree, and Muslims with medical or old age problems are exempted. But in my conservative neighborhood, it was widely observed and it nearly unhinged me. As a Turk explained, Night turns into day, and day into night an apt description. Simply put, the goal is to refrain from any food or water passing ones lips between sundown and sunrise. At around 8:45 p.m., the mosques sounded the message it is time to break the fast, at which time a large social dinner is served promptly. In my complex, many of the residents would then stay up late into the night. The pool was open and children were running about screaming around the courtyards until around one a.m. Sleep was impossible. On the first night I finally fell asleep exhausted, but was suddenly catapulted out of bed around three p.m. by a frightful noise passing below my window the sound of a massive drum being beaten with a vengeance. Running out to a family member still awake, I asked, What in the name of God (or in this case Allah) is going on? Ah, the drums, he replied with gravitas. They are to remind us it is our last chance to get up and have breakfast before we start fasting again at sunrise. I sighed and went back to bed just to be reawakened once again with the five a.m. prayer call. I remember thinking How will I ever survive this for THIRTY days! I also had a very interesting cultural experience during Ramazan. My family told me if I wished I could attend one of the big evening prayer sessions at the local mosque, and one warm summer evening I donned a scarf and proper attire and accompanied my friends father to the mosque. He told me if I wanted I could just spend ten minutes and leave, but since this was the first time I had ever had the opportunity to see a Muslim service, I intended to remain longer. Crowds were streaming in, and I made my way to the womens section upstairs, feeling, as usual, out of place. Sauntering over to a distant corner, I tried to make myself as invisible as possible, but I was soon surrounded on all sides by women in traditional dress. For the most part the women were all sitting comfortably back on their heels, while I squirmed about trying to be comfortable.

I was ignored with the exception of an occasional sly glance from my nearest neighbor a few feet distant. As the prayers were loudly called, the women would perform a series of praying movements, bobbing up and down of the floor with the ease of jack rabbits, first stretched down on the floor with arms extended in prayer position, then suddenly leaping back up to their feet. I spent the first five minutes conducting an internal debate. It was obvious that there was no chance to escape the place was jammed. It would be like sitting in the front row in a church and walking out in the middle of the sermon. Surely I would offend by leaving early. But what should I do? Sit painfully scrunched up for the next hour and a half - or try to copy their movements? Which choice was better manners? Might I insult a hundred women by doing nothing or was it terribly inappropriate for a non-Muslim to perform these feats of endurance? Becoming increasingly stiff and restless in the increasing heat, I chose the latter option and spent the next hour trying to keep up with my rubber-legged neighbors, dripping sweat through my scarf. Never a word was said to me. When I finally limped out the door I could hardly walk for the next two days. I sure did admire those women. I was very happy to visit the First Methodist Church upon my return and was relieved to just sit during the service and be capable of walking back home. Even kneeling in the pews of St. Leo s would have been a piece of cake. The Christian religion used to be much more demanding on its practitioners perhaps in time Islam will also relax. I arrived in Turkey just prior to the beginning of the month long social protest movement spawned by the sit -in at Gezi Park in Taksim Square in Istanbul, and the longer I lived there, the more I became concerned about the political atmosphere. The fact that I decided last minute to alter my manuscript for the second edition of my book in order to change names of people and places based on the concern it could create problems for various individuals who had shared their anti-government points-of-view, speaks volumes. The longer I stayed, the longer I felt the shadows of a police state, where paranoia has increased to the point that one is careful with whom you share your political views. I noted the bullying tone in TV clips of their Prime Minister Erdoan, who never seems to shy from fanning the flames of dissent with inflammatory language. Major efforts are being made to prevent crowds from gathering, and examples have been made of journalists, businesses that opened their doors to tear-gassed victims, doctors who treated tear-gassed victims, and people who made anti-government comments through social media in many cases with jail terms. There is likely to be more unrest as their 2014 elections draw near. Add that to the frightful problems in Syria spilling over into Turkey as well as every other surrounding Middle Eastern Country, and I found myself considerably less comfortable with the notion of staying longer. Many people ask me if I think the sectarian killing between groups like Sunnis and Shias will ever end. I remind them that it took nearly 1700 years for Christians to stop killing each other after the dreadful Thirty Years War from 1618 to 1648 between Catholics and Protestants. One of the longest and most destructive wars in Europe, it has been estimated to have reduced the German population by up to 40%, with some locations losing 75%, and with the estimated number of casualties ranging from three to eleven million. Since Islam is 732 years younger than Christianity, if they follow the Christian timeline of sectarian exhaustion they may continue to kill each other for quite some time. I found myself thinking in a new way about Turkey, and the challenges that occur when cultures collide. I recalled sitting in the airport hotel on my last day of my 2009 teaching trip, being offended by an article about Switzerland banning minarets on Swiss mosques. At the time I

thought they were being terribly xenophobic. But now I have had the opportunity to gain a little perspective from the other side, and despite the fact I have tremendous respect for Muslims and have a large collection of delightful Muslim friends and have tremendous admiration for beautiful mosques the fact is I would definitely have fits with loudspeakers five times a day in my U.S. neighborhood. Many of my Muslim friends share my opinion that it is important for immigrants to respect the cultural sensitivities of the dominant culture , and mosques do exist in Christian dominant cultures that do not have minarets or loudspeakers. I may not have liked many things about my time in Istanbul, but I sure do have a new appreciation for many things about American culture (Yes, we DO have a culture). I will never take the blessings that we have in the United States for granted again. God Bless our rich basis of democracy which is built upon civic involvement from the bottom up at the local level along with our myriad of non-profits that play a vital role in getting things done and driving social change. Turkey still has a long way to go in this respect, and the lack of these cultural and structural elements is what makes it difficult for young democracies like Egypt to survive. God Bless America for its incredible network of parks at the local, state and national level. God Bless America for groups like Keep America Beautiful. And most importantly, God Bless America for our Bill of Rights First Amendment. Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the Government for a redress of grievances. Dale E. Fox is the author of Turkey Uncovered, relating her experiences in Turkey between 2009 and 2013. It is now available in its 2nd edition on www.turkeyuncovered.net.