Things are never like they seem

So people wonder why I travel alone sometimes.  It’s because I like it. I like the challenges, I like to figure shit out for myself. Sometimes I run into issues, but most of the time things go almost according to plan. Sometimes. But in truth, if I screw up it’s no one’s fault but my own. Usually when there are any issues it’s because I want to save money and I cut corners. Sometimes it’s better not to do that, but sometimes it works out to be ok anyway, even if there isn’t a bar in the hotel like I thought. But Im stubborn, If I got myself into it, I should be able to get myself out of it. “Should” being the key. 

So, as yall know, before I came home, I took a trip to Turkey, Istanbul, to be exact. Why did I choose that? Because leaving Spain, it was cheaper for me to take Turkish Airlines and take S long stopover in Istanbul than it was to go straight back to the United States. So of course, I decided to take the flight and I decided to stay in Istanbul for 3 days, after all, a new country for me and it’s known for being a cheap location as well as exotic.

Anyway, once I got to Istanbul Airport and dragged my duffel bag and two big backpacks through the airport, I was able to find where my shuttle was that I set up with the hotel. The heat was brutally humid and hit me like a ton of rocks like hot flashes x 10 when I stepped outside the terminal. The shuttle driver; a middle-aged Turkish man in a white shirt and tie was there and led me into a clean beige leather-lined vehicle that said “Vip” shuttle on it. I got in, and it was airconditioned thank God. But he didn’t offer me any “VIP drink” to sip on while we drove the 40 minutes to the city.  Then I remembered, I got the cheapest shuttle I could get from the hotel, not a “real “VIP’ shuttle. Oh well.

When we got to the hotel,  the Hotel “Enderun”  was a little bit off-putting. As the shuttle guy was driving, I noticed how narrow the streets became as he drove into the area which was the old city part of Istanbul.  According to my research, the hotel was in the European side of Istanbul hence the cobblestone streets, but read on, because if someone were to ask, Ide disagree with just how European it appeared.

The streets were very narrow, cobblestoned, dirty and very uneven from broken and missing stones. Buildings on either side of the streets were looking rundown with chunks of cement falling off them.  There was trash in the streets which made me hope my hotel wasn’t in the middle of a back-alley trash heap. Um was the hotel name accurate? Was the Enderun really just a name for the  “end-or-run? Wtf?

But then the shuttle pulled up in front of an iron gated door partially hidden with some trees next to it. You couldn’t really see the hotel as a whole and I strained my neck trying to make sure I could see the name of the hotel on the building somewhere to make sure I was in the right place.  I mean from the looks of the drive up I was like where the F** am I? Am I about to get off in some back alley? Shit, this is what I get for wanting to save a few bucks. Why didn’t I pick a mainstream hotel off the river? Oh Lord, where’s a Hyatt? F ***me.

Suddenly a young guy in black pants and a white shirt and tie met the shuttle driver and quickly took my bags and I followed him up some stairs into the hotel lobby.

As we walked from the entrance on the street, we passed through a garden with a fountain in the middle and little white cast-iron garden tables which made the place look much more inviting than the street outside the main door. That was an improvement I thought.

Inside the hotel was a small foyer, with gold and white crystal chandeliers throughout and red velvet wooden ornate chairs lining the room. It had kind of an Arab, Turkish sort of look about it with a pared-down golden palace feel to it. The man behind the desk checked me in and immediately asked me if I had any plans for any tours and tried to sell me a tour and a ride across the Bosphorus strait, I declined as I already had a tour set up the next day. Fortunately, he wasn’t pushy

So, I was led to my room by the same young Turkish boy that carried my bags for me. My room was on the 5th floor, and was as small as a closet but decorated in elaborate cream and gold colors with a crystal chandelier over my bed. Ok, 10 points for reminding me of my mother.

My bed was pushed up against the wall and there was a balcony that gave you a full-on view of the narrow cobblestone street behind the hotel. Trash was strewn along it and what looked like an abandoned building was across from the hotel with homeless people sitting on the steps smoking. It looked so lovely. Not. And all the gold ornate velvet furnishings wasn’t making up for that view.  This place got great ratings on Booking, what the hell? I wondered how come nobody mentioned trash, rats, and homeless people?

Needless to say, the view was downright ugly, and dirty and made me think where the F*** am I? Was I smoking crack when I booked this place? What was I thinking? Where’s a Hilton when you need one?  This is what you get when you go cheap.  You cut corners and the corners cut you back. Oh well, suck it up buttercup, at least the sheets are clean.

I hoped there were cats running around to kill the rats that are probably out there. At least my room wasn’t on the first floor, rats couldn’t get up here I thought.

So, I thought I’ll eat in the hotel and deal with this in the morning as I’m not going out alone here until I know where I am and how to go back to the airport in case I need to leave sooner than I planned if you know what I mean.

And so I immediately asked the young man that brought my bags up Is there a restaurant? And it turned out his English wasn’t too good, and he kept saying yes when the answer should have been no. They didn’t have a restaurant. What they had was breakfast in the patio outside the hotel, in the pretty garden we walked past coming in. I tipped him and he went away.

So I went down to the lobby after changing my clothes and there was the check-in guy that tried to sell me some tours as well as the second young boy that brought my bags up. As I approached, they both immediately stood up.  “What can we help you with Miss? Where do you want to go miss? We will take you there, miss”. We will help you with anything you need .“  his words rattled off his tongue like they must have been going stir crazy with nothing to do. Um clean the streets and take me to a Hilton, I thought. But it was too late, I needed something more.

I said I need two things: a sim card since my damn Spanish sim wouldn’t work in Istanbul, and I needed to eat and have a drink. I had visions of buying a sim in the midst of the dirty streets from some cell phone vendor and being ripped off and couldn’t deal with that as I was already tired.

But low and behold the check-in guy sold sim cards right there right then, and for how much? $30 euros which was probably twice as much as off the street. Did I care? No. I said sold. And he even put it in my phone for me as I watched. ;I suddenly had internet and GPS. Praise the lord. And thank goodness I had euros on me because the thought of going to an ATM would have been out of the question as I already was wondering what idiot part of my brain booked this trip

So I said where do I eat?  The young man immediately jumped up and said, “There is a restaurant five minutes’ walk from here and we will take you.”Ok then, I said lead the way.  <em>And please don’t kill me</em> I thought in my head. I knew I stood out here, being blond and obviously American so I was glad to have someone take me actually. And knowing this is a country where men and women have very clear separation rules, having a young man escort me was probably a good idea.

So I followed the young man out of the little hotel into the dirty street. We proceeded to walk uphill two or three streets towards the huge Grand Bazaar market, which is where there are more people than there are insects. So, as I followed the young man I made note of all landmarks to find my way back. I noted the trash in the streets and the men hanging out, drinking their Turkish coffee, or just sitting and smoking everywhere, and not a woman in sight.

It was quite unnerving. I thought whose idea was this? It was mine as usual, but it was too late now, and I wanted some wine.

So, I followed the young guy, through three or four streets. He pointed out where the tram was, the famous Grand Bazaar market, and the metro station.  Suddenly we rounded a corner, and it opened out onto a street where it was just one restaurant after another with little round tables lined up row after row. Everywhere men were standing outside each restaurant door wanting to show you their menus and whatnot. It was quite intimidating. There were so many men. Normally seeing a lot of men would be a good thing to admire, but not in this instance as I wasn’t making eye contact.

As we walked near all the restaurants, I started to see women in the street dressed in Western clothes walking together as well as women in traditional burkas. At least I no longer felt like the only woman anywhere at that moment. But I noticed none were outside the restaurants hawking their menus like the men and I never saw a female waitress either. Hmm women don’t work here? ok then.

The young boy took me to a restaurant and stopped. There were rows of burnt orange tablecloths on all the tables. ; The owner, a nice-looking middle-aged Turkish man or whoever he was, stepped out and immediately pointed to a table for me to sit down outside.

I thanked the young Turkish boy, and he went back to the hotel. I had a sudden pang like “Don’t leave me” How will I get back? feeling. But then he was gone. No matter, I knew the hotel was close by. Ide figure it out myself.

The waiter immediately waited on me smiling and gave me the menu that has everything in English and Turkish. It was traditional and nontraditional Turkish foods and Turkish pizzas, salads, and vegetarian options. And wine, yea! which was all I wanted at that moment. So, I ordered a glass of white wine. And within minutes it was at my table. And it was cold. OK then.

I proceeded to order a vegetarian casserole and some stuffed grape leaves for an appetizer. The waiter brought the grape leaves and basket of bread blown up like a little balloon. It was funny to see bread like that. I tore off a piece and it was warm and tasty.  The grape leaves were the tastiest Ide ever eaten. I was quite pleased. And the service was excellent. And the gentleman spoke excellent English. I ordered 2 glasses of wine. Things were looking up despite the grittiness of the surroundings.

I sat there in the early evening air and watched people go by and people coming out of the grand bizarre, just about 100 yards away. I was in the heart of the old city hence the crowds, the old buildings, the cobblestone streets and the markets that seemed to surround me. I could hear the call to prayer in the distance echoing through the streets as I sipped my wine.

I finished my meal, paid the bill, and got up. It was just getting a little dark. I turned left and headed toward the hotel. Two lefts and a right would get me there. I used my GPS to make sure I knew where I was going, and it was accurate. The sim card worked, praise the

Thanks to the wine I just walked like I belonged there. I walked quickly and never made eye contact with anyone hanging out or smoking in the streets.  In fact, my biggest worry was tripping on the uneven stone streets in the waning dusk with my 60-year-old eyes that can’t judge depth anymore. Now that’s a real risk when traveling I’ll tell you.  Not like it hasn’t happened, but I digress.

Anyway, I found my hotel, walked in and there were the same two young men as before. Both greeted me asking if I needed anything and how was my meal. I smiled thanked them for their help and went on my way to my tiny room with Gold filagree accents and the crystal chandelier over my bed. Thanks, Mom you must be here with me

A woman alone

Damn right

Somewhere in Turkey