1: INTRODUCTION: THE TRAVELER AND THE CHINTAMANI
In 2014, shortly after moving from Abu Dhabi to Istanbul, I started a book writing project.
It’s a mix of autobiography and essay genres. I was working on it simultaneously in Turkish and English, having written about 100 pages in each language. But over the past decade or so, both my environment and I changed, and the text got somehow outdated.
I have now started revisiting this project. I decided to update and complete some sections I felt worth sharing. So here I am. Regads from the Traveling Chintamani…
“The Traveler”
They say, “one cannot be explain it, one must experience it,” but one must also write it … Writing, as you know, could be considered a kind of self-therapy, or a way to make sense of situations not possible to make sense of otherwise.
For many years—in other words, for most of my life— I wrote and took notes for myself as I was swept from city to city, country to country, culture to culture and mood to mood.
Sharing is the twin sister of writing. What we really want to do through writing is to confide in someone. That someone is first ourselves, sometimes just ourselves. Then, sometimes, others. Throwing ideas into the world, into space, saying, “Let’s do it, for what it’s worth!”
So that others might enjoy reading, identify with and benefit from what we write. To leave a unique, albeit small, note for the historical record. Or we share out of a desire for others to appreciate and understand us. In today’s digital technology and social media environment, there’s no need to even discuss these things… Despite all the pollution and overdose of information, our ability to share meaningful things remains eternal; we are, after all, human.
I am a big traveler. This stems primarily from my being a diplomat kid. These diplomatic childhood travels later became ones made in adulthood for: graduate studies, living abroad as an ‘expat’ for work, and after relocation home permanently, regular business and social travel. What emerged was an “international Turk.”
In my book endeavor, the Traveling Chintamani, I attempt to talk about the life of one of these diplomat kids (or “third culture kids”), telling the strange and funny stories that come along with it.
I first thought about examining the state of us diplomat kids (or ‘diplobrat’s as some may prefer, if they want to allude to our possibly being spoilt..) as a project during my college years (c.1996). While wondering if there were any Turkish studies on this topic, I learned that the Americans had (of course, if anyone had, they would have been the first to do it!). First, I found a study by the US State Department (on state.gov; the link is obsolete), then the work of an anthropologist (Ruth Hill Useem), and then the web portals created by the 3CKs themselves. (The most concise definition of 3CK is, in Useem’s words: “children who accompany their parents into another society.”) On whether or not the information in these sources would apply to all the ‘international kids’ of the world, I would say not 100 percent, as it would need to be adapted to the local cultural contexts; however, there are bound to be many common characteristics.
If I were to summarize the meaning of this life for me personally, I should first say that, the nuclear family made up of my mother-father-sister and me has been fundamental, in terms of the support and solidarity we received from each other during our childhood and youth, whenever we felt like aliens in all those different, disconnected places. As for the few weeks spent with extended family during the summer holidays, these made it possible for us to maintain ties, however imperfect, with our “homeland”.
Constant or regular traveling and relocation and living in many different places brings an incredible need for mobility on one hand, and fosters the habit and skills of ‘settling in’ and ‘becoming local’ in the places of residence in a short span of time, on the other. You become a chameleon, so to speak. Adapting = surviving… Furthermore, when you realize that every moment that makes up your life is significant and valuable in itself, you have to find a way to enjoy the place you are, rather than wait for the difficult stays to be over.
Flying from branch to branch, resting for a short while on one, flying away again, taking off into far horizons… At times it is a relieving sense of freedom, at other times a feeling of loneliness and disconnectedness that weighs life down. Being a kind of ‘eternal tourist’ and observer.
I suppose this would make us quite fit for a career in the fields of diplomacy, culture and tourism. Our relationship with ‘place’ and ‘the earth’ are constant themes or sub-texts in the fields of architecture, planning, geography and cultural heritage. By looking at places and cultures at a macro level and from an analytical perspective, one may have a chance to alleviate the feeling of being stuck between places and cultures and to channel it into useful activities, to a certain extent at least.
Speaking of looking of things at a macro level, making connections between different events and subjects would also seem an enjoyable and natural pursuit for us mobile types. Perhaps this is why I like being a ‘generalist’. In this book, I explore my own professional field of urban planning and cultural heritage preservation, with interpretations based on personal observation, common sense, and intuition.
“The Chintamani”
So, I think you understand the “traveler” part of the book’s title. As for the ‘Chintamani’ part, I am guessing that many of us would have had a chance to see this symbol, which has long fascinated me, in museums, exhibitions, and souvenir shops dedicated to Ottoman art. As for me, I have grown even fonder of it after I copied its pattern printed on a pillow in my parents’ home and took it to be tattooed on my arm in 2001. Imprinting an artistic motif characteristic of Turkish culture into my own body and carrying it around with me thereafter, seems to have found its meaning as a symbol of the identities etched in our being…
I know a little something about the meaning, and the historical, and cultural significance of the Chintamani pattern from what I’ve read over the years, but now I’ve browsed a few articles again (like Bulut 2018, iznikmavicini.com, Paralı and Mangır 2024, Wikipedia/cintamani), and then asked ChatGPT, to give me a summary. (We’ve entered the age of Artificial Intelligence, so why not? Let’s take advantage of it, right?)
“The Chintamani pattern is an ancient motif originating in Central Asia, widespread in Turkish-Islamic art, particularly during the Ottoman period. Its name comes from the Sanskrit word “cintamani” (wishing stone, lucky jewel), and carries meanings such as power, strength, happiness, and protection. The pattern generally consists of three rounded shapes (triple pearls or spots) and two wavy lines (tiger hide or cloud motifs) next to or between them. It was used in Ottoman palace caftans, tiles, book decorations, and textiles from the 15th century onward.” It became a symbol of sovereignty, symbolizing the sultan’s power, wisdom, and justice. Because it reflects both cosmic powers and worldly authority, the Chintamani motif is also considered a “symbol of Ottoman power. “”
It feels very good for me to embrace as an identity, the story of Chintamani’s arrival from the East and its Westernization in Anatolia within Turkish art. I, too, am a “Western Easterner”; a Turk and a citizen of the world. I strive to be a nationalist, patriot, committed to my homeland, and socially conscious, while having a free, inclusive nature, belonging both everywhere and nowhere. Let’s define it this way. We are what we define ourselves to be, aren’t we?