konya: where rumi spun and my face froze off
i’m writing this while my nose is still thawing out from the plateau winds. honestly wasn’t sure what to pack for a place that’s both high desert and freezer aisle at 1,027 meters up. i just checked and it's 13°c there right now but “feels like 11” with 34% humidity that’ll sandpaper your eyeballs, hope you like that kind of thing.
the whole city feels like someone left anatolia in the oven too long - flat steppes stretching out under tractor beams of sunlight (the locals brag about 11 hours of it daily), then BAM, the taurus mountains appear like god’s crumpled-up math homework on the horizon.
someone told me that if you get bored, ankara’s a short drive away - which honestly sounds like saying “if you hate cake here’s a rice cake” but hey, escape routes exist.
the mevlana museum’s dome glows mint green like a menthol cough drop in this bone-dry landscape. stood there watching tourists spin awkwardly in the courtyard pretending to be dervishes while thinking about rumi’s ghost sighing “bro just stop”. alaeddin hill’s got stones older than your regret spiral after booking july flights - peak summer hits 40°c here and the seljuks built this stuff without AC? legends. also found meke lake photos online and it looks like a meteor punched the earth and left blurry water, but my leg muscles vetoed the 250km round trip. someone told me the etli ekmek is just “meat bread” but ate three in a row sweating lamb fat at a plastic table somewhere. konya’s the size of denmark but everyone acts like they’re in a village? popped into a shop for sunscreen and got interrogated about my lineage while the shopkeeper’s eyes judged my knees (wear long pants). collapsed at a guesthouse smelling like dust and centuries.
not sure if altitude or rumi’s ghost made everything slightly dizzy. 2/10 weather adaptability, would shiver here again.
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