About an hour away from Istanbul, I stood in the hallway smoking my cigarette, watching camels, unbridled and wandering free, dotting the landscape. The wonder of that made all the trauma with the border guards almost worth it. Yeah, I was entering another world for sure.
My reverie was interrupted by Doug, who came around the corner and asked if he could have a couple of cigarettes for himself and a guy he had just met. Introductions were made. “As-salamu alaykum,” nodded the nicely dressed gentleman as I lit their cigarettes. (I only had two Marlboros left. Would I have to start smoking foreign cigarettes?) Our new smoking buddy, Dr. Sevim, was a doctor, of what I did not know. He was about forty years old and better dressed than anyone else I had seen on the train. Born and raised in Istanbul, he had traveled extensively east and west during and after schooling. He was much more interested in us than he was in talking about himself and was especially interested in Doug’s updates on New York City, where he had studied ten years ago.
After a few minutes, the conversation still on NYC, I started to drift, wondering what the next couple of days would bring. I almost wished we were planning to spend more time in Istanbul, one of the world’s oldest and most mysterious cities.
I raised my hand. “Doctor, pardon me, if I may, you greeted us just before with a phrase I’ve heard numerous times on this train. I believe it was something like ‘salum alaken.’ What does it mean, and should we be using it as we make our way into Muslim lands?”
He responded, “The Muslim greeting ‘As-salamu alaykum’ means ‘Peace be upon you.’ And then the usual response would be ‘Wa-Alaikum-Salaam,’ which means ‘And unto you peace also.’” I seemed to have hit an important chord with this question, and he continued. “Islam is a wonderful way of life; the way of it is so wonderful. The norm of specifying how it should be put forth: ‘As-salamu alaykum’ meaning ‘peace be upon you’ or more perfectly: ‘Assalamu alaikum wa rahmatullahi wa barakatuh,’ meaning peace, mercy and blessings of Allah be upon you.’ In this regard, Allah says in the Qur’an: ‘And when you are greeted, greet (in return) with one which is better than it or (at least) return it (in like manner).’ For Allah is ever taking account of all things. The greeting Allah is referring to here is generally understood to be ‘As-salamu alaykum.’”
I asked about the hand movements he had previously used addressing us and he explained “salaam,” which he described as “a greeting from Allah, blessed and good.” He clarified how it is done: “The full salaam is a traditional greeting in Arabic-speaking countries and Islamic countries. It is made by sweeping the right arm upwards from the heart to above the head. It begins by placing the hand in the center of the chest over the heart, palm to chest, then moving upwards to touch the forehead, then rotating the palm out and up slightly above head height in a sweeping motion. In the abbreviated salaam, the head is dropped forward or bowed, and the forehead, or mouth, or both, is touched with the fingertips, which are then swept away. Now having just said that, the gesture is losing popularity. I prefer it and always have. I will always use it myself as a sign of respect.”
The doctor asked where we were headed after Istanbul. Doug explained our plan to continue to India and get rich by becoming clothing industry entrepreneurs. He thought the idea had merit; he knew of the burgeoning popularity of sheepskin coats in the West, but his voice trailed off as he turned and looked out the window. He said, “I sure don’t envy the journey you have left.” That caught my attention.
“What do you mean—we heard it was only another couple of days.”
And so, before he left to pack his belongings a couple of cars ahead, he proceeded to demolish our best-laid plans.
Yes, he said, to India was about two days but only by airplane. For the last six months there had been not only no direct train but no continuous train travel at all between Istanbul and Baghdad, which was close to the border with Iran. He had heard from some relatives that just as you entered Iraq, all train tracks were out. Now, that might sound ridiculous, he cautioned us, but not if you knew the government in Iraq. You had to travel by bus and, he warned, this was not a bus like any we’d ever ridden or that he’d ever want to take. Even worse, as you reached the eastern edge of Iraq and started to make your way into Iran, you had to watch out for gangsters. Unfortunately, he added, human life is not what it is in America, so beware. Warming to his theme, he implored me to dye my hair. A blond would stand out...my golden locks would be like having a spotlight following me wherever I went. Blond would mean I was either English or Swedish or—even more mouth-wateringly inviting to the bandits—a rich Americano. These gangsters thought nothing of shooting people just to shoot them. As a final warning, he added, if I were you, I’d figure between five and seven days to get there, depending on the weather, because we’re getting close to the sand-storm season in Iraq.
Seven more days of traveling in much worse conditions than we had experienced for the last three and a half days.
There was no way, both of us exclaimed after Dr. Sevim left.
We couldn’t even begin to imagine seven more days of sitting up day and night in trains and buses and God knows what else before we got there, if we ever got there. And what did he mean, gangsters? It was 1970, but he had warned us that many parts of these two huge countries, Iraq and Iran, were lawless. He explained that sometimes they come on horses, sometimes in trucks and sometimes they just appear out of nowhere. There definitely was no sheriff in town or evidently anywhere in either country.
These were our choices? Give up our perfect plan of getting to India, going into the clothing business and becoming rich, or spend the next week traveling in who-knows-what type of conditions? And experience had taught us that there would be much more time required to get all the proper visas and papers and special inoculations we would need.
Well, the worst that could happen were about a million and one things and all of them very bad. Yes, Dr. Sevim had said I would always be greeted with a smile if when meeting anyone in the East I first greeted them with “As-salamu alaykum,” Peace be upon you. I planned to do this, but I was afraid that if someone addressed me first with ‘As-salamu alaykum’ I would completely forget what to say in response.
Doug touched my arm and looked at the skeptically and I tried to read his mind: If we are really stopped somehow by middle-eastern gangsters do you think what we say to them will mean anything? And before we even opened our mouths, they would probably have already taken all our clothes and gone through our pockets looking for anything of value. I remember you talking earlier on our trip about how much you liked those old black & while road movies with Bob Hope & Bing Crosby. Well I’ll tell you, we are not on the Road to Rio—we could be on our way to the Road to Big Long Knives. Could there be anything worse?
And then, of course, there were the gangsters. What would be the worst that could happen?
Doug cut to the chase: “The worst is we get drilled with holes or worse, that’s the worst and forget it—forget all of it.” I agreed. That was that; we would not be going to India. We would not be going into the clothing business. We would not be getting rich, at least not that way. But as the train slowed down, coming into Istanbul station, I wondered, if not that, if not there, then what? We were almost halfway around the world—what would be next?
Istanbul
Nasty communist border guards hovered to the left of me, still looking, I’m sure,
for those spies from America without visas.
Middle-Eastern gangsters lurked on my right, just waiting for those rich, blond, blue-eyed tourists.
I was stuck in the middle, in of one of the most historic crossroads of history,
a city of the Crusades,
the old city of Constantinople.
The Orient Express
Bells clang, whistles ring,
Doors slam fast, steam shoots out, up with the mast.
The