At first glance, Konya was a little disconcerting: mosques, lots of them, squatting among warehouses, apartments, and tidy green lawns, the harsh July sun radiating off their bright aluminum domes. With scarcely a bush in sight, the city’s industrial suburbs looked spare, almost severe, in their neatness. In the distance, against a cloudless blue sky, barren mountains formed a stark brown backdrop to this metropolis on the Turkish steppes. To me, it all looked a little alien, even intimidating. It wasn’t like I hadn’t seen a mosque before. There’d been plenty in Istanbul, but there they’d been stately historical relics: the Blue Mosque, Hagia Sophia, Suleiman Mosque. Here they were like living, breathing things, fresh, vibrant, somehow assertive. And they were everywhere. I admit, of course, I’d been on edge even before we got here. The guidebooks had said Konya was one of the most conservative places in the country.…