Whirling Dervishes

There was music and entertainment in Sultanahmet Square every night for Ramazan. We stopped to watch some traditional musicians on stage for a few minutes at the small amphitheater. We were picking our way carefully over bulky cobblestones to head back to the hotel when I saw the next act standing to the side of the stage - three men in tall hats and floor-length white skirts. Dervishes! Lots of the restaurants in the area advertised evenings of fixed menus and performances. This seemed so much cooler, since we just stumbled upon it. The audience seemed like locals. There was a low-key street fair vibe, with families moving in and out of the long bench seats, kids getting restless, men talking on phones. The woman in front of me recorded video on her cellphone.
The whirlers were like nothing else. All they did was spin, slowly and then more quickly, raising their hands overhead. What was most fascinating was that even though they were doing the same thing, each had a distinct style. After a few minutes, I felt like I knew their personalities. The guy on the left was an artist. The one in the middle gets into really intense discussions. And on the far right, a hippie poet for sure. Maybe.