When I skyped my sister tonight (3/19/11), she said, “I thought you guys were in Africa. How the heck did you end up in Istanbul, Turkey?” I laughed hysterically. Turkey had been on my list for awhile, ever since I met the Vrettos family. Bill and Nancy Vrettos spent one year of their lives in a van traveling the whole world, and when I asked Nancy what her favorite place was, she replied with stars in her eyes, “Turkey.” Other travelers had since backed the endorsement. I mean, what’s not to love about a place that marries east and west, juxtaposes extravagance and poverty, and displays historical ruins in a friendly culture? I had to see Turkey, and when I looked that the world map, Africa looked… well… close-ish… So, after 3 months in Africa, we were ready for a change of scenery, and Turkey fit the bill. We booked a flight to Istanbul and made plans to backpack south through the Middle East until our final flight departs 2 months later out of Cairo, Egypt (5/4/11).
We arrived in Instanbul in the middle of the night and felt relieved that we had purchased $12 used jackets in Africa. It was snowing and windy cold, quite the contrast to the balmy tropics we had just come from. We took a greyhound type bus from the airport to Taksim square where we began asking taxi drivers if they could recommend a hostel. To our astonishment, the taxi drivers spoke only Turkish, no English. There were no touts, no backpacker’s ghetto, just a well-lit square with restaurants. I started to worry. We didn’t have our Lonely Planet Guide, therefore no map, no hotel name, no address. How were we going to find an affordable place to stay at 1:30 in the morning? I started praying and looking around. I saw three people our age walking our direction, so I put on a smile, walked their direction, and asked, “Hey, could you guys recommend a hostel or guesthouse?” They talked amongst themselves for a few seconds and then Humera motioned toward Evrim and said, “She is inviting you into her house.” “Really?! I could hug you!” I replied. I was shocked; these people didn’t even know our names, and we were getting into a taxi with them to spend the night at their house. To Westerners, I think it sounds a little crazy, but the more I travel, the more I feel like this is normal.
A few minutes later, we arrived at Evrim’s 2nd story apartment in Osmanbey, Shisli. As Evrim opened the door, she said “By the way, I have a cat.” I nearly squealed with delight. As we took off our shoes and hung our jackets, we were issued guest slippers. Rather than usher us straight to bed (it was 2am by now), we sat in a beautiful formal living room where we were served Turkish tea, alcohol, and snacks including dried fruit and nuts. I couldn’t believe our good fortune. We were in Istanbul, Turkey chatting with locals, staying overnight in their home. The hospitality was more than I ever could have imagined. We learned about our hosts: Humera the flight attendant; Tolga, Humera’s boyfriend, the group tour guide; and Evrim, the owner of an online tourism company providing services to Bodrum, her and Humera’s Mediterranean hometown. All of them were sweet, well-educated, English-speaking night-owls. They invited us out dancing; we explained that we had been flying literally all day and were early to bed types. We went to bed around 4:30am.
In the morning, Evrim and Humera prepared a Turkish feast, a breakfast of sesame covered gaverick (a bagel ring) with cheese and olives, eggs, cucumber and tomato salad, a triangular puffy cheese pastry, and of course, Turkish tea in tiny cups. Humera and Tolga walked us to the Metro station and showed us where and how to buy tokens and navigate the subway. It was Evrim’s birthday, so we asked if we could make her a Tex-Mex birthday supper complete with chocolate birthday cake. We shopped at Carefour, a chain grocery store for fajita supplies, and when we got back to Evrim’s, I looked at the package’s directions for the cake and realized I needed help- I couldn’t read Turkish, and aside from the front of the package, there weren’t any helpful pictures. Evrim looked at the box and exclaimed, “Oh, I love Pinneapple cake!” “Pinneapple?!” I thought the picture showed chocolate cake. I looked closer and realized there was a small hunk of coconut next to the cake, “Oh, you mean coconut.” We both started laughing. Evrim translated the proper cooking time, number of eggs and so forth, and we were rolling along quite nicely until I asked her if she had any baking powder for the tortillas. She got a very concerned look on her face, called her friend, then handed me the phone. In English, the friend explained that the cake didn’t need any more ingredients. I laughed and reassured him, the baking powder wasn’t for the cake, it was for the tortillas. In Turkish, the friend translated my words for Evrim. She laughed in relief. Tolga and Humera returned later that evening for birthday supper, and we enjoyed another wonderful evening of learning about Turkish culture and history.
No comments:
Post a Comment