Welp, yay!

From the wonderfully easy Istanbul airport, I took a bus to Aksaray, hopped off and looked lost enough to be directed to a tram station connecting me to this hostel in Cemberlitas. There are little accents under the c and s. Checked into a seven bed dorm, hopped back on the tram, off the tram, and had the best orange juice of my life. I watched the waiter use a rotating machine (simple, yet novel) to squeeze at least 6 oranges directly into my glass. Looked lost again and was directed to the metro, where I learned how to read “tickets” in Turkish, hopped on, hopped off at the right stop, and bought a bus ticket to Plovdiv for tomorrow morning. Did not look or get lost on the way back to the hostel. I love it. I’ve always squirmed over being an incompetent fool at figuring out public transportation, but now I’m just so pleased to have it work in the end, that the middle doesn’t matter. And, it’s just satisfying to say “one, please. Thank you” in Turkish. I have used “thank you” and “ok” a very lot.

Decided to wander around and get deliberately mildly lost to explore the neighborhood. There are a lot of decaying buildings of all materials mixed in with merely run-down buildings once you get off the main few streets. Roads are narrow and cobblestone and frequented by taksis with too many suspicious large dents. Skinny cats and piles of uncollected garbage are everywhere in the back streets, and the parks are filled with orange and yellow marigolds (the most common flower here, as far as I can tell).

Midway through my wandering, I was beckoned over to talk to a waiter at an empty restaurant. He was bored and wanted to practice English, which he spoke really well, and his name was Kadir. I talked with him for at least an hour, and he explained some of the Istanbul culture, like the loudspeaker prayer broadcasts and the apparent unfriendliness of most Americans and Germans. He mistook me for French (until I opened my mouth) and his boss said I couldn’t be American, but other than that people have made a pointed effort to speak English to me. Surprises. Kadir also informed me that people in eastern Turkey, like the Kurdish village where he’s from, are much friendlier and more giving than people in Istanbul, but everyone I’ve met has been fantastically friendly and kind. Perhaps I’ll get to see the eastern, small-town culture someday. Kadir also directed me to the seaside, where men sunbathe and fish on the rocks. No women. Kids charge for the chance to shoot a bee-bee (b.b.? be-be?) gun at cans and a string of balloons. I tried a couple of times but I only hit the sea.

Oh, also, in the wall 2 meters way from my hostel window is a nest with baby pidgeons. So, I have finally seen a baby pidgeon. And some neighbor is playing a mix of Turkish pop, Weezer, and European techno trance.