I wasn’t planning to pray.
In fact, I wasn’t even sure what prayer really meant in Islam. Like many people back home, my views had been shaped by what I’d seen on the news — headlines, debates, security alerts. You hear the same narratives often enough, and even if you don’t believe all of it, something settles in your mind: Is this really safe? Is this for me?
But something about being in Türkiye, especially in Fethiye with its calm sea and slower pace of life, made me soften. People here smiled more. Strangers said “salaam” and offered help without expecting anything in return. My curiosity was slowly rising, even if it still carried a trace of anxiety.
One evening, I walked past a small mosque just after sunset. The call to prayer had just finished. I paused at the entrance — partly drawn in, partly unsure. A man in his 50s stood nearby. He caught my eye and gently said, “Would you like to see inside? You’re very welcome.”
I hesitated.
Was I even allowed? What if I made a mistake? What if someone misunderstood why I was there?
But something in his voice — calm, unbothered, welcoming — encouraged me. “It’s a house of God,” he said. “Everyone is welcome.”
So I stepped in.
A Stillness I Didn’t Expect
Inside the mosque, the atmosphere was unlike anything I’d imagined. It was quiet, yes, but not empty. It felt… alive, in a different way. Peaceful. No loud chanting, no overwhelming ritual — just people standing, bowing, placing their foreheads on the ground.
“Would you like to try?” the man asked again, seeing my curiosity.
“I’m not Muslim,” I replied quickly, unsure if that disqualified me.
He smiled. “No need to be. Just follow. Be present.”
So I did.
I followed the gentle motions. I stayed quiet. I placed my forehead on the ground — something I’d never done in any spiritual setting. And in that moment, something shifted.
Not dramatically. Not like a flash of lightning. But something inside me — a knot I didn’t know I’d been carrying — began to loosen.
It was as if I was being reminded:
You don’t have to be perfect. You don’t have to understand everything. You are seen, and heard, and held.
Since That Day
That one prayer didn’t change everything. But it changed something.
I’ve since begun reading a few verses of the Qur’an in English. I’ve spoken to Muslims — not on TV, but in real life. Mothers, fathers, students, volunteers. And I’ve started to see a different picture. Islam, it turns out, isn’t primarily about politics or slogans or identity. It’s about connection. About anchoring the soul to something greater than itself.
I still have questions.
And I’m still not sure where this road is leading.
But I no longer feel as afraid to explore it.
A Note to the Reader
If you’re reading this and find yourself curious — or confused — that’s okay. Many of us start from that place. You don’t have to believe to visit. You don’t have to be ready to convert to ask a question.
You just need to be open. And sometimes, that’s all it takes.
You’re welcome to join a mosque visit while you’re in Fethiye, or ask your questions privately through this site. No pressure. No preaching. Just honest conversation.
Because one prayer — even just one — might be enough to open a door you didn’t know existed.
