Merhaba from a hammock on the hill,
There is a balmy gust wafting through the leaves of
the mango tree I am currently under, my feet have not seen shoes in over twenty
four hours (I aim to make them forget that shoes ever were a thing), and I learned
the rudimentary skills of making string hoppers this morning. Oh it’s good to
be home.
But wait, you say, “Merhaba”? Merhaba is Turkish for
hello, silly girl, wrong language.
It’s because I’m going to tell you about Turkey for
a little bit first.
My dear mother referred to my ten days with Hannah
as “a wonderful introduction to Istanbul”, which I greatly appreciated – a.
because it really was wonderful and b. because the word “introduction”
implies that there is more to follow. A week and a half was all it took for me
to know that I want my life to be written with paragraphs and paragraphs
dedicated to Turkey.
It is amazing, travel blog reader, absolutely amazing.
My airbus trundled over several air bumps before sweeping through the clouds to
reveal tangled miles of sunbathed streets, soaring minarets, and the twinkling
Marmara.
I started off in typical fashion by ending up on
the wrong continent. A taxi from Ataturk Airport to the Üsküdar Iskelle (ferry
terminal) where Hannah, Brent, and Ryan were going to pick me up felt like a straightforward
plan…until I got to the Üsküdar Iskelle and there was no Hannah, Brent, or Ryan
to be seen. Only a million people who didn’t speak English and several boats.
T’was just fine. I made a Turkish friend or three, one of whom gave me his
phone (Turks are the most helpful people around), and we finally got a hold of
Hannah. Between hero-phone-owner rattling off in Turkish to her for several
minutes, Hannah and I separately trying to get back on the phone with each other
(“MY FRIEND. GIVE. MY FR…”), and trying to wheel my luggage out of people’s way
we somehow managed to figure out that I was in Eminönü at the ferry terminal
that would take me to Üsküdar. A ferry token is 2 Turkish Lira and I had 10 Turkish
Lira, so I stood in front of the token machine expectantly for about five
minutes or so (expecting what, I’m still not sure, English directions? A
magical change dispenser?) until the little man tending the corn stand
impatiently took my wallet from me, riffled through it till he found the 10 in
question and clucked at me while he counted out change. I have never been so
thankful.
Sitting on the ferry with many pounds of luggage
around me, I settled in for the long haul. I was going to Asia. Turning to the
man next to me, I asked if it would take much longer than two hours and was
only mildly put off when he ignored the question completely and smiled at me a
little pityingly. It was only when I was trucking said pounds of luggage off
the ferry about 15 minutes later that I realized it was probably the stupidest
question he had heard in a while.
I didn’t have too much time to ponder on this particular
learning moment, because in a minute I was wrapped up in the best kind of hugs
– the kind that seem too good to be true because they come from people who’ve
been out of hugging distance for so long.
Hannah, Brent, Ryan and I spent the weekend
together doing some cool stuff:
The Chora Church:
Clearly the Byzantine crew knew how to do things
with some element of panache. And also some skill. The church was put up in the
11th century and stands splendidly still, with only a little
spiffing up of the old mosaics in between.
Taking in luscious Istanbul:
The Grand Bazaar:
I haggled down a tea set from the original 35 liras
to a mere 20 liras and felt just a little impressed with myself.
“Where are you from, lady?”
“Sri Lanka.”
“Ah, this why your English not good.”
Ah how the prideful do fall.
Not depicted, yet noteworthy: Stumbling upon
beautiful little coffee shops in Galata and enjoying chai, Huka, trying Efes (the
national Turkish beer) and rakı, dancing the night away at Araf. Ryan made many
friends and also Turks spurn American music in favor of Spanish guitar.
Simply lovely to follow your travels Steph! glad you're enjoying life!
ReplyDeletemiss you
stellie