ISTANBUL
Twenty-five years ago, I visited Turkey for the first time. During my stay, I found the Turkish people kind, curious, and generous. I distinctly remember two events that left an indelible impression on me. The first was a simple financial transaction between a store owner and me. I was in the market to buy authentic Turkish jewelry for my significant other - but of course, my USD to Turkish Lira conversion skills failed me, so I needed to use my credit card, which was atypical during those days in Turkey. In order to complete the sale, the salesperson had to retrieve the credit card imprinter from the store across the street. In the day, Turkish merchants shared these knuckle-busting machines across several stores in the vicinity. Since she was the only person operating the store, she left me alone for a good ten minutes, searching from store to store to find the machine in question. She left the store, and all its wares left unguarded without a second thought. Eventually, she returned, and we consummated the transaction - but I never forgot that event. That would never have happened in the United States. Read More...
The second event was even more memorable. I was returning to Istanbul from a 10-hour bus ride from Ephesus to catch my flight back to the US. I was traveling alone and had no way to determine which stop would get me to the Istanbul Airport as the bus driver only spoke Turkish. If you ever visit Turkey, you will know that signage is a problem for non-Turkish-speaking individuals. My vigorous attempts to ask “which stop for the airport” met with the same bewilderment that I possessed when the driver replied to me. As I returned to my seat with little hope to get anywhere close to the airport, my prayers were answered. A young girl, seven or eight, seeing my obvious distress, asked me if she could help - IN ENGLISH. I cried “Yes” and explained my situation to her. “My plane leaves in three hours, but I hadn’t any idea which stop would get me to the airport.” Of course, an eight-year-old wouldn’t typically know the whereabouts of the airport, so she translated my English to her Father’s Turkish and vice-versa. It took a couple of tries, but ultimately, she said magical words for a Western traveler with zero Turkish language skills - “Get off at the next stop.” I was so grateful. And then she sheepishly asked me for a favor with her father’s urging - handing waving as it may be. She said, “I am learning English in school. When you return to the United States, will you be my pen pal?” Of course, my heart melted right there in my chest cavity, and after I recovered, I agreed eagerly. And true to my word, we exchanged letters two or three times. I often think about where that young girl is now. I hope she is safe. I hope she has raised her own children to be curious and trusting of foreigners and even lend a hand to those in need.
During my short return to Turkey, I didn’t get a chance to witness that same level of kindness, but in our brief visit, I could plainly see Turkish hospitality continues to this day. And though Turkey had significantly modernized during my hiatus, the warmth and hospitality of its people remained the same. And the food that I struggled to stomach at twenty-seven years old was fabulous at fifty-two. Our only regret was that we could only spend an obscenely short fifty hours in Istanbul before we were on the road again. The next time we visit, we plan to venture well outside of Istanbul and see much more of this fabulous country.
