While waiting for the ferry to go back to Athens from Santorini, the driver/bartender for the villa I has stayed at waved me over. He was with a Canadian girl (well, 28 years old) that he had apparently been having a week-long romance with while she was in Europe. Then the ferry came and, as these things tend to go, she became my travel companion to Athens. She was a yoga instructor and kinda just believed in good vibes and auras and such, as the yoga teaching tends to lend itself to. I've done yoga plenty, so we got along fine (and it didn't hurt that she had a lot of food to share because she "would eat too much anyway"). However, one of the more difficult parts of traveling as a Christian is that I have to constantly hush the thought that they're likely headed to hell if they don't start believing in the death and resurrection of Christ. I don't want to preach at them both because it'd be ineffective and because I genuinely don't want to, but it is tough. I know where they're headed. And most of the people I've met haven't been very open to Christianity, at least not past the point where it's my story. My story is FAR more boring than Christ's.
She and I got off the ferry and I helped her search for her hostel in Athens. We went to the acropolis but I couldn't get student pricing, so we didn't go in. Still, it was cool to get on a rocky outcrop and see the landscape that so influenced Greek and Athenian beliefs and mythologies.
We went back to her hostel and I went to catch my flight to Istanbul. I barely made it due to that sightseeing. Also, I had looked ahead online and people had said that you could store luggage for a fee at the airport, but the airport personnel ended up telling me that that doesn't exist. So I had to throw away my mouthwash but stuffed my Swiss Army knife in my backpack. It made it through security. We'll see if lighting strikes twice on the way back.
It was a pleasant 45-minute flight from Athens to Istanbul. The passport control line, however, was a staggering 2-hour wait. By the time I found my hostel in Istanbul, it was evening. Fortunately, the night life is where it's at in Istanbul. My hostel was near Taksim Square, which is where a lot of protests and rioting take place. The next such event is expected to be next week, so I'm kinda dodging a bullet on that one. Taksim Square is ALSO where the city's bustling nightlife takes place. After resting and putting pictures on Facebook, I ventured upstairs where there was a common area, and I was asked if I was hungry. The answer is always "yes" and so I was fed by a British guy and discussed Istanbul and travel with him, a Korean guy, and a Canadian woman. This allowed me to focus on drinking that night rather than also trying to find food, and they also told me what to visit when I explored the city. After dinner, I went in search of a karaoke bar. The city is so vibrant and diverse at night, it's a bit of a sensory overload. But I found a karaoke place and the bartender, despite my asking for a 10 lira drink, brought me a 14 lira drink ($7 instead of $5). So I nursed that drink all night. They gave me a shot for my first song and continued to bring me salty food to make me thirsty and carrots and cucumbers to hydrate me, all because they wanted the rich American to buy more drinks. But for me, it was $7 for a meal of nuts, popcorn, veggies, a beer, and a shot. The bartender wasn't happy with me, but I wasn't with him, and he got two good songs out of it. I was the only one singing in English because Turkish music is apparently a thing that they take pride in.
The next day, I ventured into the city. Istanbul is intimidating on the bus ride because traffic is crazy. However, like most big cities I've been to in Europe, it was manageable on foot. I had a map from the hostel with a few markers telling me where and what things were, but it was still a lot of walking blind. That coupled with the amount of history I have forgotten regarding Constantine, Rome, and the Ottoman Empire, meant that I rarely knew the significance of things I was looking at. And that is a feeling I hate.
But I still saw the palace and the Blue Mosque and the cistern (but only because I had already waited in line before I found out I had to pay to get in). The cistern felt like that scene in Lord of the Rings as they're escaping the Mines of Moria.
The reason I was in Istanbul at all was to meet with my cheer coach from university when I was a mascot. She and her family are living in Bursa, Turkey, as missionaries. So after touristing, I went to the docks to make sure I could find the ferry that I was to board the next day to Bursa. I found it and then, feeling quite tired, I went back to the hostel to shower and put pictures online. Alcohol is expensive in Turkey just as it is in most places if you go out, but, of course, cheaper alternatives can always be found at supermarkets. So I bought a pint, had dinner, bought another pint, and walked up to the open balcony area of our hostel. There, some French music teachers offered to let me join them. I did, and though they spoke little English, my time with French people is always enjoyable. I went out once more in search of sweets (they have churros that are basically fried bread covered in a honey-like sugar water). Then a guy asked me for a light (I don't smoke) and started chatting me up and wanted me to go to a bar with him. It was late and I was waking up in the morning, but I asked him the drink prices and he said "Only 20 lira ($10) per drink" and I said "no" and he offered to pay for mine. Though I'm not a woman, the situation still felt suspiciously date-rapey. When the bar required us all getting into an elevator and it all seeming very regulated, I told him I had to wake up early, and ditched him there and returned to my hostel.
The next morning, I was off to Bursa. I bought my ferry tickets online, so all I had to do was find the machine and swipe my debit card, then my tickets popped out. No other steps required. The ferry was a little under two hours and I slept the whole time, and then one of the greater sights in the world, seeing a family waiting there to welcome you. I had spent a lot of time with my cheer coach's children as well, so they were all excited to see me. They took me to lunch where I tried whatever they suggested. A drink I was NOT fond of was one that tasted like sour cream, a sour milk thing that could be endured with spicy food. But that food wasn't spicy enough to make me drink much of it, so I switched to Fanta. From there, we went to their apartment where we all took a break and their daughter, Kenzie, told me about their trip to DisneyWorld last year via scrapbook, which made me want to visit DisneyLand this summer. After their young boys had taken their naps, we went to the grocery store and then off to visit a 600-year-old tree in Bursa which was ever so large. We also visited mosques where some Ottoman rulers and such had been buried and then we went for dinner, where they stuffed me full of foods, the main dish for me being a sort of Turkish #prizza. The dessert was this weird shredded wheat thing with sugar and cheese that I didn't understand, but I loved the taste.
After this, we all went back to the apartment and they put the kids to bed, and I talked with them about what the culture is like, and how it is being missionaries there. The main answer is that it is difficult. They are living there through support from a ministry organization, so they spend all their time studying the language and culture. With one girl and two boys, all of them as crazy as good families are, it's amazing how they manage to make it work. They've been there almost eleven months and because of government stuff, they don't do formal church. They meet with other missionaries (and none of them use "the m word" because of adverse connotations there) once a week for fellowship and then just work at forming relationships. Their entire family and life moved to Turkey and their ministry is mostly making friends with locals and sharing Christ as the Spirit leads. I hope I get to return after med school, not only to experience more or Istanbul, but also to see what God has done in and through them. I was a rare treat for them. Most people don't end up on this side of the world, or that far to the east in Europe.
Update: they checked the weight and size of my backpack and it passed the test. The Swiss Army knife made it through two sets of security with no trouble. I should keep one of these with me everywhere just for funzies.
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