Scarve

Istanbul Turkey

Before and during our trip, we were both asked several times why we decided to go to Turkey. Well, there were many reasons: it is full of beautiful and historical sites; it's a geographic compromise between Corie's desire to go to Western Europe and my desire to go to India; it is the ancient center of the world -- the meeting point between Europe, Asia and the Middle East. Also, I was drawn by the opportunity to observe many varieties of Islamic culture within a secular state.

On any given street (in Istanbul), you may see: traditional peasant head scarves that could transport you to a Polish village, or a miniskirt that suggests Paris, a tie for Wall street, a black chador for Syria, a Nike shirt from any town in Long Island. And my favorite, frequent jarring combinations of any of the above.

99 percent of the Turkish population is Muslim, but they don't necessarily wear their religion on their sleeve. Very few talked religion with us or asked us about our own. My assumption is that for the mainstream Turk, their religion is like the mainstream American, a deeply personal experience that plays a large part in their daily experience, but does not need to be shared with everyone else around them.

When the call to prayer sounded out in the city or in the country, time did not stop. Many people kept working, smoking, drinking, talking and thinking. And many people went and prayed. And I bet some people did something in between.

However Turkey does offer up visual clues to its Muslim identity, besides the mosque skyline. There is no pork on the menus. Water is freely available (Islam equates water with purity). And then there are the head scarves. In some Istanbul districts, they were everywhere and the variety and attention to aesthetics was remarkable. It began to feel to my untrained style radar more as a fashion accessory than a religious obligation. Like most things in life, it is probably both.