Surviving Turkey
A view from my hotel room in Istanbul that first crazy night.
I can’t sleep, so a blog post.
The scariest moment of my life didn’t scare me at all. I don’t understand it, because looking back I’m nervous for myself. I get jittery. I keep myself from falling asleep.
I was in Istanbul. Somehow, somehow my luggage got to me. I got my visa. I was in the country legally. I exchanged dollars for lira and was ready to find my way to the hotel.
Okay, Hertz. Jessica said find a Hertz car to get to the hotel. I did. Forty U.S. dollars later, I got my car. The Hertz guy hit on me — I was flattered — then led me to some guy with a skinny soul patch who didn’t own a Hertz car or Hertz uniform. I got into his car anyway. The way from the airport to the hotel I considered my circumstances and created escape plans. If I just jump out of the moving car….
Then I got to the hotel and no one speaks English. Well, one guy did but he seemed irritated. I guess I made my reservation, but never paid for it. What? I gave him my credit card which, of course, didn’t work. I had cash, though, and luckily he too took U.S. dollars. Eighty of them.
I got my room finally, and I realized that I couldn’t plug my dying computer in because I’m in Turkey. Turks don’t use the same outlets as we do. (Americans like their power — GROWL!) So I called the front desk. They answered in Turkish. When they heard the pathetic Caucasian on the phone, they handed it to the one guy who speaks English. The irritated guy. They brought me up a converter. Only it’s a U.K. converter, not a U.S. one. I went down to the desk. They handed me over to the irritated guy again; he says sorry. That’s all the have.
My phone was dying just like my computer. I emailed my mom and another intern, Lydia, who’s supposed to meet me at the hotel. I just send a hi-I’m-safe-can’t-talk-bye message. Then called it a day.
Because I was too nervous to converse with the irritable English-speaking Turk and the other Turks in the hotel lobby, I spent the rest of the day (evening in Turkey time, early afternoon in Indiana time) reading Jayber Crow, watching episodes of How I Met Your Mother on my iPod, and eating cheese crackers for my one meal of the day. I think I fell asleep at some point.
Lydia came at 1 a.m., Turkey time. We slept for a few hours, then enjoyed a huge breakfast buffet in the hotel lobby. I started cheering up. Then I thought about the Facebook comment I got on the way to Istanbul, from some guy I went to school with. Nate. He told me to try Turkish coffee. I did.
If my computer weren’t dead, I would have messaged him back just then.
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I am not much of a risk taker. I’m scared of calling people on the phone, of doing things like renewing my driver’s license or returning Christmas gifts. I’d rather keep the expired license and stupid gift.
I don’t know why I didn’t freak out that first night in Istanbul. Maybe I didn’t because I knew it would’ve been useless. I couldn’t call anyone. I only had myself and God to keep me safe. It worked.
I wasn’t scared at all. Nervous, yes. Stressed, oh yeah. But not scared.
To my friends traveling abroad this summer: don’t be afraid. If you’re supposed to go (and I believe all of you are), you’ll be just fine. God’s got your back. Ser chow.
Lauren
April 30, 2011