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February 07, 2005
Travel Story #6 (Final - Finally)
"Dad, what the hell is going on here?"
"I think he's saying this place used to be a prison. I think he's saying that the people that left would be killed."
The little old man ran around the dark, dank room. He pointed to the small barred windows at the top of the wall. He ran under a rusty old hook on the wall and posed as if he were shackled. He walked over to a large iron door and kicked it. He hit it with his fists and again put his finger to his throat making that crackly spittle noise that universally accompanies it.
"Yeah. I think he's saying no one could leave, or they'd be killed."
"Kind of feels that way now, doesn't it?"
The little old man noticed us talking and yelled to someone behind us. The young man ran out the door. A few seconds later someone else came through the door and said, "old. Very old." The old man nodded.
He took out a pen and grabbed my hand. He wrote "1532" on the meaty part of my palm. Then he pointed to the mosque on the other side of the heavy iron door. He wrote "1536."
"Oh, the years these things were built."
"That makes sense."
A younger guy walked into the room with a tray of tea. He set it down on a pile of concrete blocks. The old man pulled up a couple fold-out chairs and motioned for us to sit. He stood in front of us as we sipped our tea. He pantomimed smoking from a narghyle and pointed to the ground at his feet.
He's turning this place into a smoking cafe. We'd been to a couple already. They were patronized almost exclusively by old men and tourists. A younger man might come in once in a while, but never a woman unless she was a toursit. We'd asked about whether or not women are allowed in the cafes and found out that even though they are they amost never enter.
"That could be cool, smoking in an old prison."
"I think he's trying to get us to advertise it for him."
The old man ran off. We never saw him again. What we did see was a number of young Turkish men that claimed to be studying, but not know English. About 8 of them in all. One by one.
They came up to us and told us they were studying, but didn't know any English. "I just started this last week." Then they would run off to find someone who knew a bit more. "I have studied for two years English. They get me and ask me to tell you they are working on cafe here."
"Yes, we know. The old man told us."
"Yes, I'm sorry. I don't speak English so good. The old man. His cafe."
"Where is he? We have to leave."
The men looked around for the old man. He was nowhere to be found.
"We need to pay. We have to leave."
"No cost. Is free for you."
Sweet! We just got about a half a million lira worth of free tea.
I left in awe of the kindness of the Turks we had just me. "They gave us free tea."
"About 50 cents worth."
"Some places that would cost almost a dollar."
"Not out here. We're in the ghetto."
"But he was so nice."
"I think he just wanted us to tell our American friends about his great cafe."
Nothing seemed to impress my dad. Nothin until we passed a bakery. The day was hot - probably 90 degrees or so - and we passed a bakery from which we could feel the heat eminating. The hot breeze hit us as we walked past the store's picture windows. "Look at that!"
The bakers were using a large wooden stick - about 5 feet long - with a wide flat end to take a couple loaves of bread out of a brick oven glowing orange inside. "Look at that. Let's get some fresh bread. Have you ever seen bread that fresh?"
"Maybe at home. Didn't mom --"
"But with that oven. That is amazing. You can't find that in the States."
"I guess."
He grabbed a fresh loaf of bread and we headed around the corner. "This is like the slum shopping district."
"I bet everything is cheap around here because their are no tourists."
"I want one of those hats." I went into a store selling Muslim prayer hats. Up until then I didn't know the hats were religious wear, but I found out.
"This is a religious store. I don't know if they'll let you buy one here."
I looked around the store and saw it was a religious store. Prayer beeds. Prayer hats. Prayer rugs. Copies of the Koran. "Look. They have tacky plastic pictures with Koran quotes here. Just like the Bible in the States."
"I bet they're made in China."
"I want one."
"You don't know what it says."
"So? They're super tacky."
"Why would you want one --"
"I don't know. Maybe it would offend this guy. I guess I'll just settle with the hat."
"What would you do with some ugly picture with that stupid fake gold writing on it anyway?"
We walked a little farther into what seemed like a strictly residential area and decided to turn back. We estimated it would take us 2 hours to walk back to our hotel and it would be dark by then.
On our way back we came across an open air bazaar.
"A real bazaar. One for the locals."
"It's all the same shit though."
"Yeah, but it's cheaper. It has to be."
"Don't you think they'll still give us the tourist price? We sort of stick out."
We did stick out. The kids surrounded us and began begging whenever we stopped. I saw a stand selling bottles of water and bought one. A little boy came up to me and said, "please. Please." pointing to the water. My bleeding heart decided if anyone would beg for water they must need it. I gave it to him and bought another one. That set me back almost a million lira. He ran of holding the water like a running back with a football.
A little farther down through the crowded, winding street we came to an intersection. In the intersection someone had set up a table and was serving bowls of bean soup. We sat down and ordered a bowl each. After we dug into the food I noticed they had no running water. "Dad, they don't have running water here." He's normally a bit touchy about such things, but since they also served bread he was happy.
"Oh well, if you're going to get it, you got it already. Besides, it's authentic."
"I don't mind. I was just letting you know. -- I don't know how they wash the dishes though."
"It's best not to think about it."
"Oh, they have a bucket of water back there. I wonder how many times people blew their snot into it."
"From what we saw earlier, a lot I bet."
After lunch we wandered through the city checking out the goods. "Look, a picture of a ferrari with a plastic frame. It's only 5 million."
"Well, you better get it at that price."
"Actually, I only want one of those mosque lights." (Colored glass candle holders suspended from the ceilings of mosques.)
"I'll let you know if I see any place that has them."
When we came across a store selling the candle holders I insisted we go in. The man in the store seemed surprised someone came in. He sprang to his feet and ran up to us. Instead of asking us what we wanted, or how he could help us he told us he had a wife and 3 kids in the country side. I said I was wondering how much the lights cost. "Oh, you must be popular with the ladies. You look like Brad Pitt."
I refused to buy anything from him after that. Such an obvious like to try to curry my favor always back fires.
(Either that or he thinks all white people look the same. I don't know, but I'm pretty sure people can tell me from Brad Pitt.)
We neared our hotel and crossed paths with an old man selling apple shaped alarm clocks. "How much?" my dad asked with the universal how much hand signal. The old man wrote "2 million" on a piece of paper.
"Brian, how much is that?"
"About a dollar."
"OK. -- Fucking zeros."
"Why did you buy an alarm clock?"
"So we can wake up and we won't miss our ride." When we first arrived we paid for a ride to and from the hotel along with our stay. "If we miss that we miss our flight."
The morning of our flight home we woke up early with the aid of the $1 alarm clock. We gathered our stuff and waited in the hotel lobby. The appointed time passed and still there was no sign of our ride. "Good thing we lied and told them our flight was leaving half an hour earlier."
"No shit. I think those fuckers stiffed us."
I went to the reception desk and told them that the Hertz guys were supposed to pick us up. "Could you call them and make sure we have a ride to the airport, please?"
"OK, you're ride is coming, my friends."
A few minutes later a taxi showed up to take us to the airport. The ride was uneventful, but when we got to the airport he demand we pay him.
"But the ride was supposed to be free."
"Maybe they just called a cab."
"Fuck it. Just pay him, Brian."
"I don't have enough."
"Well I don't have any of their god damned funny money."
"I'll get some at an ATM. The Airport has to have an ATM." The cabbie let me go get money as long as my dad stayed with him and the bags. I ran through the airport and got just enough money to pay the cab fare. Despite running back as well the whole ordeal took me over 15 minutes. The cabbie waited patiently.
When I handed him the money he seemed to loose his paitence, however. "More. Not enough."
Apparently I misunderstood the number and was short 8 million.
"Wait here. I'll get some more." I turned to run and the cabbie yelled, "No."
I turned back to see him driving away.
Our bags were on the curb next to my dad. He was smiling, "Finally someone here that doesn't want our money."
Posted by calculatoronfire at February 7, 2005 05:05 PM
Comments
All that over a few days? Craziness. Great story.
Posted by: anonymouscoworker at February 8, 2005 01:07 PM
B -- you were interested in the next Trixie Little Show, You should go here:
http://www.creativealliance.org/events/eventItem425.html
Posted by: liveinlove at February 8, 2005 01:11 PM
I dunno which is more impressive; that you guys squeezed all of that into just a couple days, or that you actually typed the whole thing out! Thanks for the great read.
Turkish bizarre indeed!
Posted by: MMStingray at February 8, 2005 02:28 PM
Dad and I snuck that into a couple of days. We were going to go to Libya, but he backed out of that one. Then I found out you can't get beer in Libya, so it's just as well.
I'll check out that Trixie Little link. Her shows are a lot of fun.
Posted by: brian at February 8, 2005 04:45 PM