Bodrum

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Herodotus in Bodrum

The English Patient's copy of Herodotus, who was born in Bodrum. Mine's about the same size but in slightly better shape.

When I knew that during my visit to Turkey I’d be traveling to Bodrum, I bought The History by Herodotus. Herodotus, who is largely considered to be the father of written history, was born in Bodrum in 484 BC.

Like most people I’d never heard of Herodotus until I saw The English Patient. Do you remember The English Patient? Count Almásy (Ralph Fiennes) and Katharine Clifton (Kristin Scott Thomas) are trapped in the cab of a truck that has turned over in the Sahara during a sandstorm and, in trying to calm her, he tells her about all the different names there are for winds: “There is a whirlwind from southern Morocco, the aajej, against which the fellahin defend themselves with knives. And there is the ghibli, from Tunis, which rolls and rolls and rolls and produces a…a rather nervous condition. And then there is the harmattan, a red wind, which mariners call the sea of darkness. And red sand from this wind has flown as far as the south coast of England, apparently producing showers so dense that they were mistaken for blood. It’s all true. Herodotus, your friend, he writes about it. And he writes about a wind, the simoon, which a nation thought was so evil they declared war on it and marched out against it. In full battle dress. Their swords raised.”

But perhaps the best Herodotus story is told by Katharine herself. It’s around the camp fire in the desert when she tells the story of Candaules and Gyges, foreshadowing the affair yet to come which will eventually lead to not only the death of her husband, but her death as well. It’s a little bit of a story within a story. Here’s a link to a 2 minute YouTube clip from the movie if you don’t remember the scene.

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From Istanbul to Bodrum

The Tour of Turkey going through Bodrum.

We flew to Bodrum Saturday morning. It’s nothing to get there, just a 40-minute flight, but, of course, you spend hours and hours at the airport. And the security at the Istanbul airport is more rigorous than anyplace I’ve ever been as we had to go through two full-on security checks before boarding and then once on the plane, they came through and made us all individually identify our carry-on bags. This either makes you feel very secure or, if you’re like me, wonder what sort of risks are they confronting that they have to be so meticulous.

The funny thing is, the drive in from the Bodrum airport took us much longer than the flight itself. And it could have been worse. There was a big bike race going on, the Tour of Turkey, and much of the 22 miles of highway between the airport and Bodrum was closed. Which is why it’s always so great to be traveling with Sidar. At the first road block, he had the van driver pull up to a police car and Sidar hopped out. I saw him showing my business card to the policeman and pointing at me. A few minutes later, we were told to follow behind an official chase vehicle. I asked Sidar what he had said to the policemen. He said he’d told them I was a famous American journalist here to cover the race and so they let us through.

Twice more we got stopped. Each time Sidar told them some fanciful story and we were waved through. While the drivers of other cars halted at busy intersections and along the side of the road wondered why we were getting through and they weren’t. Not exactly ethical but what could I do? I was just the passenger.

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Turkey’s evil eye

A collection of evil eyes set in the concrete before a shop in Bodrum's old bazaar. Photo by David Lansing.

We are walking through the shaded alleyways around the “old bazaar” in Bodrum (I put it in quotes because everyone refers to it as the old bazaar but there’s really nothing old about it) when Brienneh says she wants to get an evil eye. I ask her why she wants an evil eye. She shrugs. “To bring back as gifts to friends.”

Brienneh has just moved back to New York. She lived in Los Angeles for awhile but couldn’t handle the commute. Her job was in West Hollywood but she lived in Long Beach or something (which is like working in Manhattan but deciding to live in Boston).

Anyway, Brienneh wants an evil eye. And god knows there are plenty to choose from in the little shops lining the shaded alleyways. In fact, I have never seen so many evil eyes in one place. Bodrum, always looking for new ways to attract tourists, could probably put up a billboard outside town proclaiming it to be the “Evil Eye Capital of the World.” From the thousands of evil eyes I’ve seen, I don’t see how anyone could dispute this claim.

An evil eye on a Turkish airplane.

The evil eye (called mavi boncuk or nazar concugu in Turkey) has been around in the Middle East forever. Like over thousands of years. You’ll find these amulets not only in Turkey but also in Syria, Lebanon, Egypt, Iran, Greece, and even Azerbaijan. You’ll find the evil eye on necklaces, babies’ clothing, tattoos, on farm animals. You can even find it on the tail fin of a certain Turkish airline.

The evil eye is not meant to bring bad luck to anyone; it’s supposed to be a positive force. It’s meant to protect you, to ward away evil forces and spirits. When someone in Turkey moves in to a new apartment or house, it’s likely that one or more of their friends will give them an evil eye as a housewarming present. And they’ll hang it next to the doorway of their house or even on a bedroom wall. And there it will stay. For years; for decades. Keeping away the bad things in life. Or so everyone hopes.

Now that I think about it, maybe Brienneh is on to something. Maybe I should buy an evil eye or two to take home as well. Couldn’t hurt.

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