Certain destinations more than others we’ve approached with a complete lack of expectations; not because we expect nothing, but more as a function of not knowing what to expect.  It turns out, that this has been one of the greatest pleasures of travel and the recipe for some of the most profound moments.  This was one of those places.

In retrospect we should have spent several days here and not just a long layover.  It was one of those places our families cautioned us not to go to because of periodic instability and terrorism, but by that logic we probably shouldn’t visit New York, London, or Paris either.  There is of course a line between open minded and overly dangerous, but with the exception of active war zones, that line is fluid and situational.  In other words; shit can happen anywhere so don’t stop living in the meantime. 

With restricted time we jumped in a taxi and headed straight for the main attraction, starting in the esplanade between two mosques; one of them a wonder of the world, and the other a modern shrine of worship, tolerance, and acceptance of all visitors.  Inbetween them stretches a grand park that smells like orange blossoms.  Along its tree lined walkways and in front of it’s fountains, citizens and travelers from far away take pictures.  Others sit on benches eating ice cream that has a taffy consistency, served up by a cart vendor with a knack for theatrics.  We enter the grand courtyard of the open mosque and read some of the educational posters about the faith while we wait for afternoon prayer to be over so we can go inside.  After queueing up with other visitors we were provided with customary clothing to cover ourselves out of respect.  We removed our shoes and bowed our heads in deference to God as we crossed under keyhole doorway into something wholly unexpected.  Instead of the chilled, stoney, grandiose and all powerful presence of a Catholic cathedral, with its hard pews, incense and organ music; we stepped onto a deep soft carpet that stretched the entire building.  Above us a carved ceiling of dark wood hung low as if to cocoon us in the building’s warmth and tranquility.   In cordoned off areas on either side worshippers prayed, each at their own pace in private moments between the individual and their God.  Across the floor and around the base of large pillars some people sat in circles and talked, others laid down to take a mid afternoon nap, and still others stood, selfie sticks extended to capture a moment.   We’d expected to feel like outsiders in a place that didn’t belong to us.  Instead we found ourselves settling down onto the soft floor, closing our eyes to listen and to share a sacred moment in a holy place. 

After we left we walked for a while in a pensive silence.  We walked though another courtyard garden where four men sat at a table, playing a game with tiles and drinking tea.  They were also sining in a perfect gentle harmony.  Kittens in the water grate below us pawed at our feet as we walked onward.  We stopped the buy a box of Turkish delights and chewed on the afternoon on our way back to the airport, wishing we’d stayed for longer and promising ourselves never to avoid going somewhere and risk not witnessing something beautiful.