Arrival

After over 16 hours in transit, I arrived in Istanbul around 5pm this evening. After all that anticipation, it feels like a victory.

My flights went smoothly: Denver to Detroit, to Paris, to Istanbul. I sat next to a very friendly, sweet French guy from Toulouse on the flight between Detroit and Paris. He is a student who is just getting back from visiting his girlfriend in Maryland...who is interning on a dairy farm where they make 100 different flavors of ice cream. Sounds like my idea of Heaven! He had been up since 6am making strawberry ice cream! We chatted about various things over white wine, bread and rice pudding. I was impressed with the luxury of the international flight: chairs that recline, complementary wine and bottles of water, and a movie list that would take days to get through... I did learn 2 things from my French flight companion: 1. That some U.S. dairy farms (such as the one he just visited) are finding innovative ways to use cow methane as energy and fuel. 2. That Washington D.C. and other U.S. cities are compressing street garbage to condense the volume.

Next was the flight from Paris to Istanbul, which was my least favorite ride. Why? Because the stench of body odor hung so thickly in the air that it literally took my breath away. I had to stuff my nose deep into a lavender eye pillow I had with me till they turned the A.C. on...and even then it was nauseating. What is the story with French men and deodorant? I am aware that it is not all French men, thank God...but I have encountered this enough to notice it's a trend... Can anyone out there enlighten me? How on earth can French women tolerate this?

When I got into the Istanbul airport, things took a while...buying a Visa, going through customs, baggage claim, etc. Then, I got on a bus to Taksim, the city center. I had to find my couchsurfing host Halil, at what he recommended as the "most-easy-to-find meeting place"...McDonald's. I kid you not, upon stepping off the bus into the heart of Istanbul, one of the cultural capitals of the world, the first words from my lips were..."Where is McDonald's"?

I arrived at my destination 1 city block later. Only problem was, I had not succeeded in getting a Turkish phone card at the airport, due to technical difficulties, so I had no way to call Halil and let him know I had arrived. I had to count on the generosity of strangers in this foreign new city and pick someone out of the busy street crowd who could speak English and would lend me their phone! Luckily I succeeded on my 2nd try, and a nice young woman let me use hers. I called Halil who said he would meet me in 15 min.

I waited outside the McDonald's soft-serve icecream window, willing myself not to buy any (I hate supporting them). Time passed. I watched the plethora of street children, ranging in ages from maybe 4-9...skipping, hopping, playing, begging every one in sight for $ on the busy street at 9pm at night. My heart strings tugged and I longed to buy them all icecream, but I couldn't effectively communicate with them and I also remembered that in many countries it is said that giving to street children is not always constructive, as it encourages them to live a life of dependency as beggars...I didn't feel that I knew enough about it either way...so, I shook my head "no" and kindly smiled at each one who asked...realizing eventually that I would have been hoarded by 6 or 7 or possibly more, had I initiated the gesture.

So, I waited for what seemed to be more like 30-40 min. and no Halil. I admit that a vague wave of anxiety eventually swept over me when I realized maybe he had abandoned me and I would be left homeless, phone-less and without knowledge of where to look for affordable, last minute lodging late at night. This worry motivated me to seek out yet another stranger and bum another phone call to Halil. This time, the kind stranger talked to him directly to confirm the address where I was waiting. Halil said he would be there in 5 min.

5 min. later, a great looking young Turkish guy walked up, asked me if my name was Cara, and told me some name I couldn't understand and said that he couldn't really speak English. Next, a girl walked up with a friendly smile and told me to follow them. So, I did. They offered to help with my baggage, an offer which I declined and then they proceeded to guide me through the cobblestone city streets, always a few paces ahead of me, talking away to each other in intelligible Turkish. I had no idea who they were or where we were going. We went down a very steep hill, at which point the guy insisted on pulling my suitcase. At the bottom of the hill, we came to a gigantic flight of stairs with 3 or 4 tiers. He carried my big, fat, packed-for-2-months suitcase the whole way. Then we entered a building, then more stairs.

I arrived to Halil's apt., realizing my guides were his couch surfing friends and guests for his weekly "kitchen party". I entered the room to find a banquet dinner (casual style, with a newspaper table-cloth) full of guests. It was a multi-cultural potluck feast. My favorite. I was immediately served lentil soup, a spicy salad, mashed potatoes, an invented recipe of salami ratatouille, and for dessert, a French pear and chocolate cobbler. The beverage of the evening was water. The whole meal was completed with a pot of black tea.

My dinner companions were 2 Germans, 5 Turks, 2 Iranians, and 2.5 Parisians. The little one (2 years old) plopped herself in my lap as soon as I was served and began eating off my plate!

By the end of the evening, I had invitations from the 2 Iranians and 2 of the Turks to spend time exploring the city tomorrow, and one kind, young Turkish guy offered me the use of his extra cell phone for my entire stay in Turkey! And when it was time to turn in for the night, I realized that I had been graciously given my host Halil's bedroom, while he opted for the living room floor. Needless to say, I am already moved by the hospitality here.

The guy who carried my luggage turned out to be a very sweet, very shy 18 year old, who is studying to be a ship captain. At one point, he asked me my age and then got incredibly fidgety and embarrassed every time I looked at him or talked to him...which honestly seemed more to do with the fact that I was female, then the fact that I was much older than him!

So there is the account of my arrival in Istanbul. I look forward to my adventures tomorrow!