Tag: Turkey

The Past Tense Of Youth: Topkapi Palace

On By Renee Lou Dallow ( Bourgeoise Bloomers )In Now and then

Background To The Novel

Like Emma in the novel, The Past Tense Of Youth, I was Inspired by a day trip to Topkapi Palace Istanbul. When told by the tour guide that the upstairs bedrooms of the harem were off limits, I was terribly disappointed and my imagination ran wild. What if I climbed those stairs I wondered? Sadly, unlike Emma, I never got the chance to find out. The rest of the palace though was an absolute eye opener. I mean who knew that women had to wear very high clogs when going to the bathrooms? Yes we were allowed into the bathrooms. Miniature marble palaces in their own right. Even had chandaliers. The sleeping quarters of the young princes were also mind blowing. Dark wooden boxes in which they were shut away from all and sundry. This was to protect them from women, other than their mothers, who would kill them rather than let them become the next Sultan. The Harem quarters had many sections where the women could stroll the gardens and gather in sitting areas or lounges. They were allowed into the main section of the palace only on the reigning Sultan’s orders. They were watched over by eunuchs who had been fully castrated to prevent them trying anything. The Sultan’s favourite was given special treatment and could pick and choose who did what tasks inside the harem. It was similar with the Sultan’s mother who had absolute power and could decide the fate of the current favourite. No man could enter the harem and look at the women inside. Any who tried would be excecuted. They belonged to the Sultan and only he had the right to enter.

It was not until my second trip to Turkey and a second trip to the palace that the story for the novel came to me. I started writing notes whilst on a long trip to Bodrum, Turkey’s Mediterranean Coast. It all starts with Emma who actually does go up the forbidden stairs into the Harem quarters and finds herself drawn back in time.

By Renee Dallow ( Author. )

The Past Tense Of Youth: Between Worlds

On By Renee Lou Dallow ( Bourgeoise Bloomers )In Changing the world, stories of mystery and romance

Ghostly portraitA golden sunset enveloped the gently undulating sea of Marmara as I stood at the top of the staircase staring down into the courtyard.  The tour was now coming to a close and I could hear the guide leading the tourists toward the main gate.  I could not bring myself to go down the stairs and join them.  I looked back along the corridor and saw that the door was still open.  I longed to go back but could not do that either.  I was caught between the two worlds and I had to choose.  I heard Gerald’s voice as he spoke to the guide demanding to know what had happened to me.  The guide came through the archway with Gerald following close behind.” Where is she I have been searching every room and haven’t been able to find my Emma. We can’t leave her here. Well why won’t you do something”?  The guide looked him up and down with a knowing smile. ” Museums are strange places are they not?  You tourists who come here with your state of the art cameras always ready to steal what is in the past think that you own the world.  Well let me tell you there are some things best left alone.”

Gerald grabbed him by the arm and shook him. ” I haven’t a clue what your gabbling about.  Where is my wife?”  The tour guide looked up to the top of the staircase and stared right at me. ” Tsk.”  He shrugged and continued toward the gate with the others not far behind.  As Gerald  made his way to the staircase where I still stood with a questioning look on his face Rana appeared behind him.  She began to sing that same song which had mesmerised me and which was now having the same effect on my husband.  He turned his face away from me and moved toward her.  She took his hand and led him toward the gate.  Still I could not move.  It was then that I remembered the painting.

I ran back to the room and ripped the painting from the wall.  I wanted my own world, my own time, my own life.  For the first time ever I realised that my world …. the world of Emma from Cumberland, was every bit as incredible as the world inhabited by Rana. Rana in full regalia She had taught me  that everything in life can be bought and sold except for one thing. The human spirit.  It was this that no painting could ever restore or reproduce.  By entering that room I had freed her from ever being sold again and that is why she was able to leave the painting. I was to be the substitute. friendship Gerald’s love had been too strong, however, and had drawn me back to my own time.  Because my mind had kept pace with both worlds during my sojourn back into the harem my spirit could not be broken and no painting could steal my breath of life.  As I began to claw at the painting it began to erode in my hands leaving me free of her world.  The problem was that she was now in mine and I knew that I must act quickly .

As I moved to leave the room once more I found my feet were tangled in something.  I looked down and there was the veil wrapped around my ankles.  I stooped to pick it up.  The veil was the bridge between our two worlds.  It was something we had shared Rana and myself.  This was the veil that had covered her face from men and this was the veil that had transported me back.  As I looked at the veil it occurred to me that maybe we were not so different after all.  Had I not worn a veil similar in length and texture to it on my wedding day? Ivan Konstantinovich Moonlit sea Indeed had there been no wedding there would have been no honeymoon in Turkey and I my knowledge of the strange eastern Paradise ,which is itself between two worlds ,would have remained just words on the pages of books devoured while waiting for the next big adventure.

I took the veil in my hands and left the room.  I hoped that they had not yet reached the cliff top above the sea.  I ran as if i had fire beneath the souls of my feet.  Surely she would not try to take him from me.  No she would keep him for me as I had done for her.  She had said that she never wanted to belong to any man again hadn’t she?  Maybe her only aim was to take him back for all eternity  back to the world I had just left.  It was this thought that spurred me on.  I knew I must coax her back with the very veil that I now so tightly clasped wringing it back and forward through my hands.

Osmanli RimzlieriDown the stairs, through the courtyard , past the princes kiosks where I had witnessed tearful reunions between mothers and sons, past the sultans kiosk, the schoolrooms,the armoury, the bakeries, the long hall where the fountains now were dry and on through the the gates.  There were no guards lying in wait for me, no valide sultan monitoring my every move and no carriages bearing female cargo to the sultan . I was home free but all fell strangely silent in the receeding embers the fading sun.   When I reached the gates which were thankfully still open my parents were waiting.  I passed them and ran toward the cliff ledge.  I looked down and there they were hand in hand wondering along the shore oblivious to anyone other than themselves.  ‘ Would she again run into the sea?  Would she try to take him with her this time?

“There you are my dear. Feeling better?”  My father asked. ” Gerald has been so worried”

” He’s wondering aimlessly down there.  Why don’t you join him?”

It was obvious they could not see Rana.  Just as I was about to move toward  the stairs leading down to the shoreline the tour guide returned.  He walked straight passed us through the gates and waited just beyond as though he was expecting someone to join him.  Istanbulartists Salvatori ValeriSuddenly I felt a breeze as Rana brushed passed me.   The tour guide came to meet her and as she joined him inside the gates were closed to us.  Gerald was be now climbing the stairs built into the cliff face and was fast approaching us.  For him it was as if nothing had happened at all.

” There you are. I’ve been searching for you all over.”

I did not have the heart to tell  him where I had been or of what had happened .  Only time would tell whether or not he had been as aware of this open portal into a time past as I had been.  I hoped that this would be the end of it and we would be free to love only each other but somehow I knew that Rana would return.

Meanwhile my parents were still waiting patiently and it was time to return home to the little apartment in Gostepe on the Asian side.  I was now as excited about leaving Topkapi as I had been when I first glimpsed the palace.

© Renee Dallow ( Hybiscus Bloom ) 1/10/2014

 

 

The Past Tense Of Youth: Sojourn to Yildiz

On By Renee Lou Dallow ( Bourgeoise Bloomers )In Now and then, stories of mystery and romance

 

theodore-chasseriau-the-tepidarium-84267My foray into the courtyard of the favourites and introduction to my new chamber opposite Rana’s was all very well planned.  I had been briefed by the valide sultan on the pending journey to Yildiz Palace the following evening.  The next day we would be in preparation for the dance and Sultan Hamid wanted me to be in attendance.  I knew that Gurel was out there somewhere in the first court waiting for a chance to gain entry through the main gate . The apartments in which the favourites resided were a world away from the first court and I wondered how he would ever find his way past the gate of the white eunuchs ( those who took care of the sultans private office ) and into the sultans private domain.  He had not recognised me when I  had peered out at him through the window of my carriage but had certainly recognised Rana.  So I was to play the third wheel in this game.  I remember feeling confused but remarkably calm when the truth of it had demanded my comprehension.  

When Rana and I had finally come face to face it had all become so clear.  Her beauty, her fire and her seductive vitality were all there on display in her eyes. On entering her room, which was much larger than my own and even had it’s own bathroom as well as a spare room for a servant girl. Leighton Light of the HaremI was immediately struck by the grandeur of her furnishings. A canopied bed at the centre of the far wall with heavy red and gold curtains complimented by matching bed covers all in the style of the French court.  Small  wooden bedside tables resembling ornately carved stools inlaid with mother of pearl stood on each side. On one of these tables was a bowl of fruit and a pitcher of water. On the other, amongst some of her personal effects, was a small book with velvet cover which looked as if it might be a diary.

 

At the end of the bed was a sofa with a round coffee table in front of it.  Against the wall opposite was a dresser with mirror above which was a large empty golden frame.  I wondered why it was empty. Maybe the previous favourite had taken the painting that resided within the frame with her. The servants room was to the right and the small bathroom to the left of the far wall. Harem friendshipsAn elaborate laquered screen covered in mosaics was placed to the side of the entrance to the bathroom behind which Rana could change her attire .  It was a beautiful room and I felt honoured to be there.

This would be Rana’s first presentation to the sultan and she seemed at ease with the prospect as if she knew she could control the situation.  I had accompanied her downstairs to the Imperial hall and after dining in a kiosk near by had returned to the rooms with the others ,for this was my duty as consort .  On her return I was in the process of preparing for bed. The_Harem_Bath for Rana It had taken at least three hours and Rana appeared quite subdued.  Announcing that she was now an odalisque she simply turned on her heel and went to her room closing the door behind her.  It was not a happy announcement but I did detect a power behind her voice.  Maybe this would be her way of coping until Gurel came for her.  I sat on my bed ,surrounding myself with cushions and pondered the events of the day.

Tomorrow would be a sojourn to a new palace and a visiting opera company no less.  Perhaps Rana and I could convince members of the company to help us with an escape plan.  All sorts of wild ideas were running through my mind.  Where was Gurel?  Would he find us?  I tried to sleep but could not  and knocked fertively on Rana’s door.  She came to the door and spoke to me in a whisper as she rubbed her eyes.  She had been crying and I have to say the tears in her eyes made her even more beautiful. “Come” she said ” I need someone to confide in this night”.  The  young servant girl assigned to her entered from the adjoining room.  The girl carried a golden tea pot on a tray with two glass tea cups which she set down on the guilded coffee table in front  of the sofa. Harem_flowerRana bade me be seated next to her and poured for the both of us.  ” Here’s to my victory” she smiled in a tone of cynical charm. We sat for many hours into the night as I listened with intent fascination to the story of her life thus far.  I told her all I could of Emine’s life  from the fragmented pieces I had obtained from others in the harem.  How would she have taken it if I had told her that I was not of her time ?  She told me of her love for Gurel and of their troth to be together for all eternity.  She showed me note he had given her just before her carriage had entered the gate.

The note had been delivered by pidgeon and dropped at her feet as she alighted.  In the note was a detailed plan of how he planned to find her inside Yildiz palace. inside-the-harem It was strange indeed to be reading this love note .  Even stranger because the content was written in a language completely unfamiliar to me.  The fact that I was also speaking another language had not fully dawned on me until that very moment and with that realisation came the acknowledgement of my jealousy.  Why then did I not want to tell her the truth?  Make her suffer even further?  Could it have been because my love for him transcended everything and time was no obstacle? Could it have been the overwhelming admiration I had for Rana and her determination to live a life so unrestrained?  Was it due to my need to be a part of something so much grander than myself and the life I had lived or was it the need to prove myself necessary in the portals of history? I surmise it was all of the above.

© Renee Dallow ( Hybiscus Bloom ) 12/4/2014 

The Past Tense Of Youth: A Gypsy’s Troth

On By Renee Lou Dallow ( Bourgeoise Bloomers )In Now and then, stories of mystery and romance

Rana:GurelGurel rode to the front  of the entourage ,dismounted and waited in the vain hope of catching a glimpse of  Rana through the lattice window of her carriage.  Just as he was leading his horse to the fountain to drink the carriage passed and Rana peered out at the gate .
 Gurel turned toward her as she stretched her arm out of the window and reached for her hand but the carriage moved on too quickly and Rana disappeared once more from view.  He then remounted and joined the ranks once more as they rode through the gate.

He had joined the janissaries and sworn his allegiance to the Ottoman Empire on the very day he had found his beloved Rana at the slave market.  Finding his way into the palace had been easy but now he must find a way to her chamber.  There had been talk from others in the ranks of a visiting opera company all the way from Italy that would be performing at Yildiz Palace the following evening.  This had been organised by Sultan Hamid who was an avid opera lover.  The sultan often chose dancers from his select  group of favourites to entertain the company after the performance and the talk was that Rana had already been decided upon even though Hamide had not yet seen her dance.  It was common for visiting opera companies to cast extras and bit part players from the people of Constantinople.

They would scour the streets of Pera in search of character types that would suit roles they needed to fill. It occurred to Gurel that he might be deemed suitable if he appeared as a gypsy and made it almost impossible for them to ignore him. Bath house He would beg on his knees if he had to. He had heard that the ladies of the harem were allowed to watch the operas from the balconies upstairs or from screens behind the stage.  From the stage he would be able to see her and hopefully she would see him also and know that he would stop at nothing to save her.

He would somehow make his way to her in the guise of a character and none but she would recognise him.  A gypsy troth could never be broken and they would find themselves once again in each other’s arms.  Rana, of course, knew nothing of Gurel’s plan but she was sure he would come for her.  The gypsy blood surged in her veins at the mere thought of him.  No walls could keep him from her.   This sultan, this man who thought he could keep her caged like a bird would never capture her spirit.   That very night she would be presented  in The Great Hall to a man twice her age. She was well versed in feminine wiles and would somehow keep the sultan at bay.  Gurel must have faith.

© Renee Dallow ( Hybiscus Bloom ) 20/3/2014