I decided to go to Pisa, taking the train through Genova. It wove through the tall hills, tunnels, and along the coast. I was glued to the window the whole way. So different already from Torino, with pastel colored houses, palm trees, and towns nestled everywhere. I felt like I was looking at a postcard, with the houses piling up on the hill along the coastline. The woman sitting across from me who spoke little English must have thought I was a nut, sitting for two hours, only looking out the window.
I had met Emre, a young Turkish university student, when I helped him find the correct car on the train. We started talking, and it turned out that he was going to Pisa as well, so we decided to stick together. Our train was about an hour late; we walked the length of Pisa (not far, about an hour), through little winding streets, over the river, by the leaning tower, out to the camping village. My new Turkish friend has an amazing sense of direction. We would get to a point, without knowing where to go next, and he would just say "this way", and I would stop and ask. And he was always right. Freakishly right. After dropping off our things, we went back out to see the tower again. That building is definitely falling over.
We found a little cafe, where I had the most amazing pasta sauce I have ever tasted. We had a sweet red wine, very different from Paris, and a long conversation about politics, religious extremism, and war.
It was difficult to hear his stories, because he explained a point of view held by some that makes America a blanket of oppression and Christian violence. Even though he did not share the views, he kept on referring to America as "you", to me, and assumed I was Christian. Apparently, a fifth of Turkey, and only people who live in the east, are fanatic Muslims that the government is trying to control. He told me that there is a certain point that the police would not let me pass, going to the east. One common idea I found in what he said was viewing Turkey as an Islamic nation, a much more solid national identity than I feel about America. Basically referring to "us" as a Christian nation, and expressing a sort of view where Muslims can take care of Muslims (let Turkey step in to sort out Iraq, so that the Muslims there cannot justify attack with jihad against Christians). I explained to him that I did not view America in such a solid way, and that I strongly rejected any privilege experienced by Christianity, and that when I meet anyone who identifies with a certain religion, I consider that a personal choice and not a group identity.
Honestly, the conversation was terrifying. I was aware of these ideas and perceptions, having studied them already, but to hear them confirmed was unsettling. I was also exhausted, so not entirely prepared to deal with the information. I know that it was filtered through someone's opinions (and particularly what his father has told him), but even that shows a bit of the worldview. I am not sure if I entirely believe his argument that American arms dealers are selling guns to terrorists, which could definitely be true but he had no evidence to support his claim. But I do believe his stories about being held longer at airports, and other friends who have seen only Muslims being strip-searched, or all the Muslims being seated apart from others on the plane.
Coming away from it, I know that we share many common views, a desire for peace and a love for education, a non-dogmatic religious experience (we basically are in the same place in how he views Islam to how I view Christianity), and that we both have people in our countries who are blinded by fear and ignorance.
He paid for dinner, out of appreciation for listening.
No comments:
Post a Comment