Turkey, Day 1: Ayla

View from my window

     My arrival to Turkey was a bit haphazard. Just a phone number and address in hand, I arrived to Atatürk International Airport with no Turkish Lira, phone, or confirmation that my host family exists or knows I’m coming. It worked out ok- I found an ATM, my bag, and my way to the post office, where I was able to make a call for 2 TL. The gods smiling on me, Ayla not only picked up the phone, and was expecting me, but switched to English after 18 seconds of my flustered Turkish.

I took the Havaş shuttle from the airport to Taksim Square where I grabbed a taxi. The driver seemed to take a while figuring out where we were going, but we had a pleasantly stilted Turkish conversation about mosques and American music. It continues to surprise me when Turks know what I’m saying in Turkish.

    Finally at the correct apartment (my twice transcribed 1 had become a 7), I called up Ayla again. She said, ‘Wait there! I will send my boyfriend to help you with your luggage.’ Steven, a well-muscled and silent Tanzanian was there in a moment and immediately whisked my moderately large suitcase up seven flights of spiral stairs effortlessly. At the top I (out of breath) was greeted by Ayla, fabulously dressed in a long leopard-print shirt and tights, and her mom, a 6”2’ Bulgarian woman. Ayla immediately set about making a smoothie for us to drink to cool off a bit.

Ayla is wonderful. She is the perfect combination of welcoming and casual that makes me feel quite at home. She has a big personality, but is also very considerate – a rare and pleasant combination. After a couple hours of shifting things around the apartment, a nap for me and a shower for her, we two headed toward Taksim Square. Ayla lives about twenty minutes on foot to Taksim Square, the heart of Istanbul and a major shopping, tourist, and leisure center. While I immediately fell in love with Turkey and Turks (somehow I missed the “honeymoon” phase of culture shock when I was in Israel), Ayla concentrated on finding her friend, Ayşe. Ayşe found us in the square and while she and Ayla affectionately greeted one another I continued to gawp at our surrounding. Ayşe is petite, very cute, and speaks less English than I speak Turkish. Ayla bilingually explained to us that while we were going to carry on conversation in Turkish for my benefit, maybe Ayşe would pick up some English as well. We set off down İstiklal Caddesi, the main street, in search of a hair dryer then dinner.

     Turkey is worth gushing about, but the real excitement yesterday evening was the sudden transport into a real life of a real Turkish person. Ayla and Ayşe, both several years older than me, took me in as another friend and the three of us had, I imagine, a typical evening out with friends. In Turkish. Surprised at how much I found I could say, I was even more taken aback by the ease of learning new words in such a situation.

Things so far are going splendidly. It is my habit to identify the linchpin in successful situations, and in mine thus far that is Ayla.