Ayse and I made a short trip to Istanbul last month to unload 4 pieces of luggage and a car-seat since we are officially leaving London. It was either a trip to Istanbul with a boat load of luggage or a week long tour from Barcelona, Spain to Nieve, France. I voted for Barcelona but Baba, being the more reasonable one, voted for Istanbul to unload.
As we arrived in Istanbul Beril, my sister in law, arranged for a cab to take Ayse, me and our luggage directly to a shipping company where we would immediately ship our stuff directly to Izmir. Seemed reasonable. She then asked the cab driver to follow her car to the shipping company (since all the luggage wouldn’t fit in her car) and we would all meet happily there. A couple of things to note first though – this is the conversation that I thought occurred but I never can really be sure what the hell is going on in Turkey because I still don’t speak Turkish. Second, upon arriving in Turkey complete chaos immediately ensues so it really went more like this:
Ayse and I got off of the plane.
Beril kissed Ayse 500 times.
We realized that we were extremely late and would most likely not make it to the shipping company in time but the alternative was to ask the mini-mart down the street from Beril’s house to keep our stuff (I know this sounds strange but not really that strange for Turkey), therefore we decided to take our chances that there would not be any traffic in Istanbul (HA) and we would make it just in time.
A cab pulled over. The cab driver shouted at Beril. Beril said something quickly back.
Ayse and I were shuffled into the car. Beril gave me a short explanation of the plan.
The cab driver attempted to use the 10 words of English that he knew. Then there was silence.
We pulled over to wait for Beril’s car to follow.
Five minutes later, no car to follow, but the cab driver was restless and we were off.
I realized that this was a little strange and not in accordance with the plan, but I figured I was somehow confused and needed to chill out. Things always seem to work out in Turkey.
So no big deal.
The cab driver periodically practiced his English in one word sentences.
He pointed to a bus station, “bus stop.”
He pointed to the lanes of never ending cars, “traffic.”
I pretended I was asleep.
Thankfully Ayse really did fall asleep.
About an hour into our trip I began to get a little concerned. By now the shipping company was definitely closed and I was trying to picture all of my most important belongings hiding behind the chips and nuts in the downstairs minimart. I really wished there was an alternative to this plan but unfortunately Beril lives on the 8th floor of a very steep building with no elevator and we would die before we made it up there with the 2nd piece of luggage.
Yes, and it was a little weird that there was no sign or Beril either. Hmmm.
Finally, we reached an area that looked sort of like where Beril lives, although I had no idea, and the cab driver turned around to request “phone.”
My phone however was in the trunk with all the other luggage and I actually didn’t have Beril’s number. Oops. I told him that I didn’t have a phone.
He then said something in Turkish which I believe could be translated to “What the hell are you doing in this country where you don’t speak the language without a phone??” I think at this point he was also thinking to himself, “SHIT, maybe I shouldn’t have left her friend.”
So now we began driving around endless and I started to get a little nervous considering that it was starting to sink in this guy had no idea where we were going and neither did I.
Suddenly I saw a shipping company!
“Drop us off here!” I said. He seems confused since the shipping company was closed and it was pitch dark out. “It’s fine,” I said, thinking Beril would be along any minute (because of course there was only one shipping company in the city of Istanbul).
As the cab driver began to unload our stuff I realized that my bag with my purse, phone and money was not in the back. Hmm, that’s interesting. Interesting in the sort of way that makes you want to close your eyes and pretend like you are not really there and that you will wake up momentarily sucking your thumb next to your mommy.
But it wasn’t a dream – apparently Beril had taken some of our stuff, which included my bag with all my important things. I didn’t even have enough money to pay the cab driver but realizing that I was totally screwed and that he no longer wanted to be a part of this charade he took what I had and drove off in a hurry.
So there I was, 9 at night, on a street corner in Istanbul with Ayse asleep in her stroller, a car seat and four large bags.
Cool.
I decided to jut pretend like a had a purpose and that it wasn’t that weird and that the people weren’t really staring at me.
But then, after I waited for 20 minutes, I came back to reality.
Beril wasn’t coming.
And I couldn’t leave the street corner because I had too much stuff.
And I don’t speak Turkish.
And I am a mom and not supposed to put myself in this sort of ridiculous situation.
I took the only reasonable route.
I began crying endlessly and to an extent that I couldn’t even speak when I accosted an old man nearby that was clearly scared of me and not understanding a single word I was saying because it was in English and I was really barely speaking English at all in my state.
He stared at me and shouted to some people on the other corner, I believe asking if anyone spoke English. Their response was to shout back a bunch of words I didn’t understand and then the word “maniac.”
Now I don’t speak Turkish but I was getting the gist of what the folks were thinking. Sure, it seemed a little strange. A hysterical foreign woman standing next to a closed shipping place with all of her luggage and sleeping baby in the middle of the dark. Perhaps I was just waiting for the shipping company to open in the morning. I was just early. And my cat just died.
No, this was not a good situation for sure.
And honestly my biggest fear of all was that Ayse would wake up and see me in the state. Then I would have to pretend like I just got some dust in my contact and that I was totally in control of this situation. She knows it when I’m bullshitting.
Finally some man walking by on the street saw the whole fiasco and had pity on me. He spoke English and allowed me to use his phone to call my mom in the U.S. who called B in the UK, who called Beril.
Five minutes later (after the police had arrived) Beril was there and ten minutes later we were sitting peacefully in her apartment utterly confused by what had just happened.
Reason #2,364 why I need to learn Turkish.
