Take that Medusa! It’s enough now.

After a year of one tough health-love-work situation after another, September 2009 culminated in a moot turning point for me. It was weird – my stove broke.

Then my lamp.

My hairdryer.

I accidentally ruined two of my shirts with an overheated iron and a faithful pair of shoes finally saw its end through a pile of Dubai building rubble.

Then, when my favourite teapot from Hong Kong shattered I knew that something, no, everything, had to change.

My personal internet connection affirmatively stopped working and another heat related skin disorder further edged me on. It started to feel like, whatever I tried to do in Dubai turned to disaster and doors simply slammed shut in my face.

“Sorry madame, there’s nothing we can do” became quote of the month.

It all seemed so unreal, like I’ve been cursed, perhaps by the so-called Evil Eye that is part of Islamic belief here in the Middle East

Well, the whole experience helped me understand the mystery of the Medusa heads in Istanbul’s Basilica Cistern. Two upside down Medusa heads were used as the base for heavy pillars down in the darkness of the cistern.

Today it is a popular tourist attraction but back in the day of the Ottoman Empire, the Turks simply wanted to do away with the bad luck and bury these Medusas as far away as possible.

Take that, Medusa!

Me, well, I’ve decided to get as far away as possible from the Evil Eye in the desert and go back to my home town of Cape Town for a while; where I’m hoping that the fresh air, sunshine and good friends could provide some healing time.

The secret teaching within all religions

'I am neither Christian, nor Jewish, nor Muslim. Doing away with duality, I saw the two worlds as one. I seek One, I know One, I see One, and I call One.' - The Life and Thought of Rumi

Since we're both fascinated with ancient aqueducts and enjoy photographing them, Sam and I decide to make our way to the Valens aqueduct which used to supply water to the city during medieval times when Istanbul was still known as Constantinople.

Today the Ataturk Bulvari Boulevard passes underneath it and we try to avoid the cars whirring by whilst trying to find the best angles for a photograph or three.

My curiosity leads me to the vendor on the side of the road. He offers a variety of locally produced, non-branded nuts, dried apricots and dates in small individually portioned plastic bags. We each decide on a small packet of salted hazelnuts to savour along the way to the Grand Bazaar, one of the world's largest and oldest covered markets.

As dusk falls the sound of a single reed pipe calls up my spirit. The music is carried from what must be a Sufi performance in the area. I have rarely heard something so pure, one clear melody that invites my soul out to dance.

Sufism is the mystical expression of Islam. As with yogis and monks, Sufis search to become one with Divine Love and deny all human indulgences and religious institutions.

This essence reminds me of how William P. Young personifies Divine Love in his book "The Shack", where he illustrates that those who are enlightened come from all walks of life and that different paths work for different people. It doesn't mean that all paths lead to God, he explains, but that those who love Him can be "Buddhists, or Mormons, Baptists or Muslims, Democrats, Republicans and many who don't vote or are not part of any Sunday morning or religious institutions".

Young goes on to say that God has no desire to make all people Christian because religious institutions are flawed. Instead even former murderers can be transformed through Divine Love and find peace without a religious label. Around 400 BC Plato said that mystic belief is the most uncorrupted form of divine worship. It seems that the ancient philosophers already found many answers for modern man that is all too easily forgotten.

Yet, today, this flute resonates with me and I am living more inside this moment than most.

Postcard purple skies and mosaic lights

Sam and I arrive in Istanbul at dusk and during our train journey to the Old City the sky turns to a postcard purple background for the numerous Ottoman mosques. We’re speechless as we roll our suitcases down the cobbled streets outside Suthanamet station.

I let Sam and the friendly travellers we met on the train do the navigating while I gasp at the Blue Mosque and the Hagia Sophia – the basilica that became a mosque and is now a museum.

By the time we reach our hotel we are hungry and decide to meet Rita and Mike for dinner after freshening up. It seems to be a lively area, full of hotels, backpackers, bars and restaurants so we wouldn’t have to go far.

Hotel Tria really lives up to the Lonely Planet recommendation, with brand new boutique styled rooms and homely amenities. It's great to arrive to such good value comfort, especially since Sam and I both are not in best of health.

We find a small restaurant serving local delicacies in a side street not far from where we are staying. Mike suggests Turkish beer and we all agree to toast to the occasion. I order a Turkish pancake which turns out to be huge. Even my giant appetite isn’t great enough to finish every last morsel of rich meaty flavour rolled in the fluffy pancake. Sam and Rita’s vegetable dishes also look delicious, with the roasted eggplant and peppers generously drizzled in olive oil.

After dinner we feel extremely lazy and stumble back down to a majlis style bar at a backpackers close to our hotel. There we sit down with a host of other travellers and talk into the early hours of the morning.

One Swedish guy tells us he’s been travelling around Turkey for nine weeks and can’t get himself to leave. He quit his job because of the recession and decided to take a sabbatical until things look up. I guess if you do have the savings it’s not a bad way to deal with the situation.

The mosaic lights all along the street cast a soft, magical light. I want to savour the beauty and decide to go to bed before the crowd gets too drunk and in order to get up early and start exploring the Old City area of Istanbul.