I made it!

It felt like it took forever to get here. I got bumped up to first class on my flight to Atlanta, which meant talking to the rich girl beside me and the sassy flight attendant for most of the flight - and free booze! I picked champagne. I felt like it was appropriate. That was the best the trip over got, though. The flight from Atlanta got delayed, of course, so I missed my flight out of Manchester and had to wait five hours in what's got to be the most depressing airport in a first-world country - all screaming kids (the British have the most annoying screamers, in my opinion), duty free stores and neon restaurant signs. I set the alarm on my new Ipod, and fell asleep in the waiting area. I woke up an hour and a half later so afraid that I'd missed my flight again because the alarm had been going off for thirty minutes but wasn't loud enough to wake me - I was out so hard I was probably snoring. Luckily, I caught my THY flight and got my first taste of Turkey. Literally. Olives and beyaz peynir and vişne suyu and hazelnuts (which Turkey promotes now with the advertising slogan "THE MIRACLE NUT COMES FROM TURKEY"). I was smiling so big at the back of the seat in front of me that the guy next to me actually asked me what I was smiling about. 

I got to the airport and walked out to a sea of mustaches and head scarves and searching eyes. Apparently five people were expected back from Mecca tonight, and their entire families came to greet them at the airport, filling up the whole terminal. I watched them greet their families from the Vodafone store, where I bought minutes and charged my phone and got made fun of by the guys working there for 1) being American, 2) being from Texas, and 3) holding a pen weird. Whatever. 

I got to my hostel and went out to get food at about 12:30 a.m. - which I knew was risky, but I was starving! I immediately got harassed by some dude, and then an American came and got me out of the situation and then came with me to dinner - because the Turkish dude was still following us when I got to where I wanted to eat! This guy had been traveling for three months, and was on his way to Egypt after this. He's been all over... so interesting. 

I slept late today, and then spent the day buying souvenirs for friends and family and exploring the Bazaar District, getting buyuruned left and right - and then hello'd and bonjoured and hola'd and everything else. I bargained! I was not shy about it either. Those guys don't need to eat, right Mom? Anyway, the shopkeepers were impressed by my Turkish (it comes back so quick). I in turn was impressed by the ten billion other languages they know enough to use to sell. 

Then I caught the ferry over to Haydarpaşa to buy my train ticket for tomorrow night. I stopped and sat where my friends and I got tipsy waiting for our train in May. I've been trying not to do things like that - thinking, oh, this is where we... - because I want to make new memories and not be focused on the past. But that was such a nice night, drinking rakı on the steps of Haydarpaşa station, staring at the Golden Horn and the curvy skyline of Istanbul (and that giant weird ball-thing), that it was good to remember. 

When I got back to the hostel, a group of Germans was going out to eat, and they invited me with them. They were stopping through in Istanbul for New Year's on their way to Ethiopia. They were tons of fun! We talked about everything, and drank rakı, rakı, rakı. I am continually impressed by the quality of the English of every German I meet. It's funny, though, that whenever foreigners talk to Americans, they want to talk politics. 

Now, I'm sitting at the little table in my hostel, where I don't think one surface isn't painted some bright color, and I'm struggling to get it into my head that 1. I'm in Turkey! and 2. I actually did leave for quite a bit of time. Number 1, really, is different from the whole, oh I'm in a new place shock thing. It's something I had a problem with in May. I think it has something to do with how at home I feel here, how I have to remind myself that I'm actually in a foreign country, that I should be soaking in every minute of it. When I called my friend today, I told him I was going home tomorrow night, by which I meant Ankara, but which he took (like any normal person) to mean America. Number 2 is more of that. It feels like the last six or seven months never happened, and I never left. Except that I'm (just a little) older and a lot wiser. 

Istiklal is still here, still brought to you by Turkcell, and still crowded and dirty as ever. The same men still sell mussels, or steaming chestnuts, or lottery tickets off spinning wheels, only now they're wearing more clothes, because it's snowing (it was so cold in the Tünel that we could see our breath as strong as if we were puffing on cigarettes). The women's hair is still perfectly coiffed, with a few bottle-blonde and bright reds mixed in. The Bosphorus still shines and men with long fishing poles and buckets of smelly live bait still line its bridges. And I am still in love with it all. 

Especially the food! Oh my gosh! So much for no appetite! So far, I've had olives, vişne suyu, ayran, salep, gözleme, kıymalı pide, some meat dish with potatoes and peas, mercimek çorbası, pılaf, ve salata. Even the salads are amazing. 

Alright, it's time to sleep. More from Ankara, probably.