Monday, April 7, 2008

A Letter

Dear Istanbul,

Do you miss me?

It has taken me some time to write this letter to you, to recap our time together, because I needed to digest (some pun intended). You are easier to love from a distance, and I mean that in about the nicest way possible.

Remember when you couldn't wait for me to leave? When I had just gotten there, and you threw your best material at me to just get out. Your restaurant and shop owners wouldn't leave us alone. You got a man on the street to grab my ass. And then... well, and then you made me physically ill for over 2 days, after eating bad: a) chicken in the wrap at the Grand Bazaar, b) community bread, c) Turkish delight from the Spice Bazaar, d) lamb, yogurt and rice, or e) all of the above.

Last, but not least, you sent the hostel owners to knock on our door the morning BEFORE the day we were going to leave.

Knock, knock. "You checkout today? It is past checkout time."

"No, we check out tomorrow."

"Oh."

Silence.

Knock, knock. "That was just joke." (Joke is pronounced "yoke")

Please ask me to perform this exchange for you with my accent. Also, my brother has gotten quite good at asking me if he can harass me with a Borat accent. If he ever comes to visit you, make sure you ask him to do it. Quite funny. A good yoke.

You know what, though, Istanbul? Even after everything you put me through, I stayed. And after my last day with you, I'm sure glad I did.

You're lucky to have Ben, who I had the. most. fun. with. even when you were being temperamental. He knows you very well, and makes you much nicer and more enjoyable to be around. Our last day together is the perfect example. Even though you managed to help Whitters and I snap at each other, Ben was the peacemaker (just as he helped find peace between you and me).

We met at Eminonu to have a fish sandwich for lunch under the Galata Bridge. I thought it was YUM-O, especially because it did not remind me of lamb, yogurt & rice (see above) and was not a weird interpretation of American food (please quit putting corn on your pizza and pickles in your stroganoff).



Even though it was 40 degrees (Fahrenheit) outside, we wanted to give your Bosphorus cruise a chance. We paid a shady character to get on a Yol-Tur boat, and after we paid and were told to sit on the top in the exposed, FUCKING COLD air, we thought something must have gone awry with our plans. We stood up to come to the first level of the boat, to sit inside the glass-enclosed area, and the shady man, who resembled a mobster, gestured violently for us to SIT. BACK. DOWN. (Was it then when we realized we were supposed to be on a Tur-Yol boat?) He was trying to get more people on the "cruise," and I'm sure he thought some Americans sitting on the top in the "breeze" would get him more customers. Whatever. 
We walked down the stairs, and into what could comparably be called warmth. Sure, it took the boat a few donuts to get out into the Bosphorus. Sure, there were only 8 or so other people on the boat (Ben comforted us by saying that as long as there was an older American couple accompanying us, then nothing bad could happen because "mom" and "dad" were there). Sure, we were sitting on exposed, crumbly foam. Sure, the shady guy ate his lunch but never proceeded to tell us what we were looking at. But boy are you pretty when you want to be.



The boat ride gave me a chance to talk to Ben, who I really miss. And even though it was cold, shady, and we all half-thought we might be sold as slaves to Dubai... it was worth it. You usually are.

Luckily the boat docked in Eminonu, not in Dubai, where we deboated and headed back to the Grand Bazaar. In the square, though, we found an old man selling seed to feed the pigeons, and we had one of the best moments of our entire trip. Thanks for bringing back memories of Edith.



At the Grand Bazaar, we wrapped up our purchases for the trip, and I finally got good at bargaining. Eh, sometimes I'm a slow learner. I did not partake in any food offered.  I learned quickly on that.



We headed to Ortakoy and Bebek, where you are beautiful and hassle-free.





In Ortakoy, we ate at a roof-top restaurant, had wonderful cheese pizza, and admired the view of the mosque that sits on the Bosphorus. 
We found a bookstore, my heaven on earth, and I found a little bit of comfort.
In Bebek, we had Starbucks, and I caved into the wonderfulness that is waffles as a street snack. I think we'll be repeating that with your friend America.

After Bebek, it was time to take Ben back to the SuperDorm! by way of seeing his campus. We hiked up the hills from Bebek to Bogadici, working off those waffles, and saw one of your best views. Thank you for letting that be the ending note. After a quick apple tea, we left Ben and boarded the bus to pick up our bags from the hostel.




We said goodbye to the Blue Mosque, walked down the street to the Antique Hostel, where they called us a cab and also let us put Ben's iPhone (that he left in my purse) in their safe until he could come get it. Iffy hostel, but really nice guys.



It would take us 28 hours from this point to get home.

All Best,

Court

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