My birthday was interesting to say the least. I woke up bright and early to enjoy a wonderful breakfast on the rooftop terrace of my guesthouse. The sun was out and the view of cargo ships scattering the bay was a lovely contrast to the cityscape. I took my time and made friends with one of the staff, Muset. I helped him practice his English – which wasn’t half bad – and he taught me a few Turkish phrases that I can no longer recall. I’ll catch on eventually, I hope.
After breakfast, I set out on foot to tour the city. I intended for this stroll to last a few hours, but it quickly turned into an all-day event; seven hours of walking and my feet are still intact! I enjoyed lunch under the Galata Bridge, where local fishermen fry up fresh fish sandwiches from atop their boats. It was a little hectic, but I loved it.
I also befriended some Jordanians, who invited me to join them for tea in the park. It seems to be the favorite pastime around here, so I graciously accepted their offer. We soaked up the sun and sipped our tea while they attempted to teach me backgammon. That is one game I cannot seem to grasp. There was definitely a language barrier, but we managed to piece together a decent discussion of travel and politics. All in all, it was a good time.
Later that afternoon, I met a local by the name of Bakir. He’s Turkish, very well educated, and spoke perfect English. He noticed that I was lost and offered to point me in the right direction. After a brief conversation, he invited me to join him and a few friends for dinner that evening, at a place down the street from my guesthouse. Seeing as how my evening was open, and I didn’t want to spend my birthday alone, I welcomed their company.
When I arrived at the restaurant I was greeted by Bakir, and only Bakir. Perhaps that should have been my red flag. I shrugged it off and decided dinner wouldn’t hurt. The restaurant was fabulous. Mediterranean cuisine is tasty, healthy, and beaming with fresh, local ingredients. Dining here is a process, unlike at home. Taking your time is encouraged, and it’s not unheard of to spend 3-4 hours enjoying your meal over conversation. It’s something I could definitely get used to, and really appreciate.
Bakir was friends with the owner, who treated us like family. We enjoyed an array of fresh seafood and tasted a variety of local wines, all of which were good, I might add. We talked for hours about all things Turkish. He’s a non-practicing Muslim and talked freely about his beliefs and perspectives on other religions. I tend to shy away from such topics with strangers, but I figured what the hell… it’s my birthday and I can talk about whatever I want. Besides, I’m fascinated by Islam and he was a wealth of knowledge.
When we finished our meal, he suggested we meet some friends for a drink, just a short walk away. After a long day on my feet, I was ready to call it a night, but the prospect of making a few friends kept me going. Bad idea. Very bad idea. When he said it was a short walk, I assumed a few blocks at best. After about 10 minutes, we found ourselves strolling through a dimly lit park. I started to grow antsy and something inside said to part ways and turn back. When I suggested this, he became very persistent that we continue. I knew right then that it was time to go. With the flick of a switch, his demeanor changed, which made me very uncomfortable. I stopped, told him I was going back, and asked him to please give me directions. He refused, so I just walked off. Oh, but Bakir wasn’t going to drop it… he couldn’t have that. He followed me, tried to argue, and then eventually threw himself at me in an attempt to get a kiss – yeah, like that was going to happen. Are you F-ing serious? Keep dreaming, buddy. I had no problem giving him a piece of my mind. Think F-off times ten. I did this in the most ladylike way, of course – I never forget my manners. Needless to say, Bakir will never bother me again. Thank god for taxis, as I could have been lost for days.
Well… here’s to turning twenty-six! Happy birthday to me! What happened to cake and presents? It’s tough getting old.
