The Eggplant Knows What the Eggplant Knows

This is the view from my hotel in Sultanamet Square. This is the Blue Mosque, and on the other side is Hagia Sofia. And then there is the view of the Sea of Marmara from these hammocks - you all know how much I love swinging in a hammock on a roof in another country...(I find it hard to smile for selfies in the first place, but wasn't in a place to smile at this moment, anyway (read on). Oh, and www.donttellmetosmile.com)

Yeah, so, things didn't quite work out with Zehra. Story to follow. But I ended up here and put an umbrella over a hammock and slept and read this very hot day away. Tomorrow I head to the artist district for three nights, and plan to see museums and art galleries and do some follow up from my food tour there the other day.

From the perspective of a traveler who spent ten days in a Vietnamese hospital with dengue fever and who was mugged on a motorbike and who got food poisoning in Venezuela (etc. etc.), I am aware that things "go wrong" when you travel. On the way to the airport, I wondered aloud to my mother, "What will it be on this trip?" (which probably wasn't the best time to ponder the question).

If these past two days is as bad as it gets, then I will count myself lucky for this Turkey trip. Nevertheless, they have pretty much sucked.

Yesterday, my wooden house host, Emre, offered to "take" me to Zehra's house, via bus and metro. He needed a reason to get out of the house, he told me, because he wanted to break fast without his parents knowing... meaning he wanted to smoke and have a kebab sandwich. Emre is 30-something and went to flight school in Key West  (a lot of Florida on this trip) and is the one who renovated the bottom of the family's house for airbnb business. He speaks perfect English and respects his parents enough to not worry them about his Western ways. He is a nice guy, if a little full of himself.

He insisted on carrying my bags. "Turkish men need to do this," he said as we worked our way north to the suburb of Sisli. As I mentioned, I wanted to experience three different parts of Istanbul, and the reviews for this part sounded interesting, and everyone said that Zehra was "wonderful."

Well, when we got there at our pre-arranged "between three and four" time, Zehra did not answer the buzzer. She did not answer her phone when Emre called. We waited in the entry way for about 20 minutes, in the 94 degree heat. An elderly woman sat there with us, and Emre translated that she was inviting me to stay in her apartment. "She is the old style Turkish woman. Very gracious." I should have accepted her offer.

Finally, Emre suggested that we find a nearby café to wait. We ate kebabs while he answered many of my questions... the gypsies near the buses are refugees from Syria, the Ramadan drummer wakes people up at 2 am to eat before the 3:45 call to prayer (he personally told the drummer to stay away and never come back..."everyone has cell phones now and we know what time it is!") Finally, Zehra called. She had been vacuuming, apparently, and did not hear her phone or the buzzer.

To take a break from my whining, let me introduce you to this dessert I tried yesterday. It has cheese, some kind of maple syrup-y tasting sweetness and it is topped with pistachio powder - made by melting the cheese over hot coals until it browns:

I didn't really like it. (uh oh, can't break the pattern.)

Anyway, with a slight apology, she led us down the stairs to her place. It looked different than the pictures. Emre shot me a look, and I shot one back. One that said, "Please don't leave me here." He laughed a little and said I could call him any time if I needed anything. So then it was just Zehra and me, and the person that I was expecting to be my personal connection relief says to me, "I am on my way out. I am putting in my resignation at my job, then I am meeting friends, so you have the place to yourself." She showed me to my room - in the back - clean. But the rest of the apartment was not what I would call "clean." Toothpaste on the sink and mirrors, wet towels on the floor. No one mentioned anything about this in the comments. Oh, and she has a very cute little dog, and the apartment reeked of this cute thing.

So she left, and there I was, in a suburb of Istanbul all by myself. Surrounded by the Trump Towers and the "best shopping malls in Turkey." (Trump Towers:)

So I wandered over to the mall. I found the theaters. I figured out how to buy a ticket from the kiosk. I bought one for a movie starring John Cusack and Robert DeNiro - couldn't read the title or anything, but how can you go wrong with those two? Well, you can. It was a crime committed against cinema. When I got back to the apartment, I looked it up on Rotten Tomatoes and it scored a 0% rating. Seriously bad. "The Bag Man."

But back to getting to the apartment. The stairway was so dark I had to use my "brightest flashlight" ap to walk down it, and at the bottom, there were two doors to choose from. For the life of me, I could not remember which one was hers. I stood there for the longest time, just trying to remember. Finally I went with the one on the right, and the key worked - to my immense relief. The last thing I need is to be arrested in Turkey - I have seen that movie. The apartment was stifling hot, and there was no air conditioning or fan. I laid down on the bed, but Arabic rap and Eminem played in the courtyard and cats were in heat and... well, I got online and canceled my second night with Zehra within an hour, citing the heat and lack of fan. Then I laid awake all night, plotting my escape. I got up and packed my things and left before she woke up. Oh, and there was dog poop outside my bedroom door. I grabbed a taxi and had him take me back to the city center, to the travel agent who helped me book my trip around Turkey. At that point, he and Emre seemed to be my only friends. It was a very lonely twelve or so hours.

So when Huseyin finally came up the stairs to work, he saw me sitting there. And I cried. So embarrassing. But he is a very kind person and he helped me call this hotel, which is not far from his agency. He invited me out to break fast with him and his friends, which is where I spent my evening - after spending the rest of the day on the roof of my beautiful, air-conditioned, Zehra-free hotel. Fun night. When Huseyin's friend found out I had stayed in a wooden house in Unkapani, he just about died.

"You are the most interesting tourist I have EVER met! Order anything you want, we are buying! You look like Kate Winslet (Barb, know you will like that) and you stayed in a wooden house in Unkapani. You are interesting, and nice, and strange!"

So I had lentil soup and kebab with kofta and roasted eggplant. The eggplant I had in Sisli last night - kind of an eggplant lasagna - was absolutely horrible. It's as if eggplant reflects what is going on in my life.

Then Huseyin and I walked around the square and he told me that it was fine if I needed to show up on his steps again. I sure hope it doesn't come to that, but thought about that quote from Mr. Rogers: "Always look for the helpers..."

You take your chances with airbnb. Really. Dang. You will be getting a good report from me from the Artist's district, I am setting that intention now...