Meraba!
Hello all! Guess
where I am?? I’m HERE! I’m in the BLOG! Yes, I’ve made it to the other side, folks. I’m visiting Alex and Andrew in a small
suburb of Oklahoma City,
where we mostly watch “Nick at Nite,” sometimes read travel books, and once in
a while write blog entries about our “world travels.”
So, lucky readers, guest appearance for you! I will be describing our week together in “Turkey.” To begin my journey, I packed up… Every. Single.
One. Of Alex’s. Demands.
Would you like a sample of what was in my many, many suitcases? The treats included: a box containing 30
full-size bars of assorted Hershey’s bars, two large bags of Hershey’s
miniatures, a large book of ye olde English literature (“Of Human Bondage”), a
book of crossword puzzles, two hooded sweatshirts, a bunch of Starbucks bottled drinks,
12 cans of Dr. Pepper, one large box of Nerds, one bag Starburst, one bag
Skittles, two boxes Reese’s Pieces cereal, one box Honey Bunches of Oats, two
board games (“Debate This!” and “Scrabble Scramble”), three boxes Boca burgers,
10 Peanut Butter Cliff Bars, two bags chocolate-covered pretzel Flips, three
boxes fakey bacon (soy), a pair of shoes, a large bottle of sodium naproxen,
four sticks of deodorant (definitely needed by your two favorite travelers),
two jars of crunchy peanut butter, and popcorn ball ingredients (two bags of
marshmallows and two boxes of jello powder), and… all right, all right, I
relieve you of the duty of continuing to read this list, but please picture me
like this from D.C. to Frankfurt to Istanbul: one five-foot redhead with two
bags each over their fifty-pound weight limit, one backpack stuffed full, and
one carry-on suitcase. I was what the
locals call “a smyall, stryange pock muyle.”
Silver lining: Alex and Andrew said that, in return for my
beast-of-burden duties, I get the only souvenir now! Too bad, Spankster! Mine!
So, once the bags were unloaded, we began our adventures
with a real, live, medieval castle. It
was way scary because there were these high stone steps leading up to these
high towers and the high steps had no barriers on the side, so you could just
fall right over, ten stories down. Scary! And one of the towers had
a big hole in the middle that led all the way to the ground, which was so far
and dark below that you couldn't even see the bottom. It had plants and
vines growing in it, and it looked so oh-super threatening. Alex and I
were too scared to stand next to it, because you get a sick feeling, like you
may lose your balance and fall in and ker-splat! So I laid down, with my
feet away from it, and peeked my eyes over the edge. Andrew meanwhile
stood on his hands to get his eyes closer to the hole and then did cartwheels
around it. Later, when we were back home, Alex and I just had to think
about looking into it to get that sick feeling again. Fun! The castle overlooked a big body of water,
for which I have no name, so we’ll refer to it as “Big Turkish Water.”
Next, we went to some outdoor markets, where they sell all kinds of fantastic
crap. Alex and Andrew like to pretend they bargain. Like, I wanted to buy 8 of these shishes
(shish kebab skewers), which the guy said cost $2 each. Alex whispers conspiratorially to Andrew, “I
think we can talk them down to $15.” They
managed to swindle the Turkish into this deal, the sale was made, and, as we
walked out, one salesman whispered conspiratorially to another, “Isn’t it cute
when Americans try to haggle?” Earlier,
a rug salesman tried to sell me a tiny Turkish carpet for $75. (Alex said I should not have boasted that I
am “a way rich American lawyer looking to buy up everything I see in Turkey
for any outrageous price you have the audacity to charge me...”) He told me “blue is sexeee color” and “pink
is sexeee color” and “green is nice.” I
passed on green. Actually, I passed on
the whole deal. He said, all offended,
“How much you want to pay? You want
meshinmed for $20?” I was excited and was like, “What’s meshinmed?” “You know – meshin mayed. With a ma-sheen.” “Oh!
Machine made?” I realized then
they were not really offering me a $20 carpet, and I left. Outside the store, Alex and Andrew were
happily chatting away with a very bad salesman (as he seemed to not actually be
selling anything) who happened to be very knowledgeable about American
movies. He knew every Tom Hanks movie,
and claimed that “Apocolypse Now” cost $400 billion to make.
But, beyond silly salesmen, people are really nice here. When we go
running, they all look at us curiously, but nicely. And guess what?
They have free, outdoor gyms along the running trails! It's things like
ellipticals, assisted weight machines, dip bars, inclined sit-up benches, etc.,
made of metal, like really sturdy, so people can just use them along the
way. No wonder we’re fatsos in America! Nobody gives us free gyms!
I've learned a freaking ton of Turkish. I’m practically fluent, thanks to Alex and
Andrew. I can say "excuse me" (pardon),
"thank you" (tayshekular), "how much?" (ne kedar?), and
count 1-10. I’ve also learned to say “very hot” (chok sijac), in order
that I may properly describe the young Turkish men who serve the cute little
glasses of tea on the ferries. All other
words sound like "molekular" (like English molecular, but with a
Turkish accent), so I can't remember any of them. Whenever a Turk says something you don’t
understand, you just smile broadly, raise your pointer finger in the classic
“a-ha” gesture, and exclaim, “Mo-LEK-ular!” as you rise to tippie toes in
excitement. Then you hustle away. Job complete.
You know what’s amazing?
I thought that, although people are the same everywhere (which is why
you shouldn’t bother to travel), they don’t live the same. Like, it seemed only logical to assume that
people are miserable and sad and poor everywhere but the U.S., Canada,
Western Europe, and perhaps Japan. But, judging by Turkey, I’ve been lied to! (By “lied to,” I mean didn’t care to know
anything.) It’s just like America (if we
said “Mo-LEK-ular!” a whole bunch, or, more exactly, if the mentally slowish
foreign visitors did, I guess). They’re
all, you know, like, riding around in their cars, honking at everyone, on their
way to the video rental store, after which they’ll pick up their kids from
their private schools, and throughout the drive they’re thinking thoughts like
how glad they are that their kids aren’t old enough to dress like the teenagers
on the street that they’re passing by who are wearing striped stockings and Doc
Marten lace-up boots and carrying satchels with patches screaming logos from
Turkish rock bands and getting “REBELLION” stamped on their foreheads to
indicate that they have rebelled in the manner appropriate for all teenagers
worldwide (by wearing the items described supra).
Well, it’s 2:30 a.m. and my sad flight home from Okla – er, “Istanbul”
leaves tomorrow morning. So…
“Mo-LEK-ular!”
