Au Revoir Istanbul/Send My Regards to Europe

The following is an excerpt from a short play I have just written called, "Lindsey and the Turk . . "

Lights up.  A 28 year old red haired American woman stands on a street corner in Istanbul, shivering from the cold, her hands deep in the pockets of her purple coat. Enter young Turkish man, tall, who swaggers towards her.

Turk: Hello, where are you from?

Lindsey: Turkey.

Turk: What? Really?

Lindsey: Yeah, can't you tell? (pause) No, I'm from the U.S.

Turk: Oh, you are very sweet, like a honey.

Lindsey: How would you know that, you've been talking to me for 5 seconds.

Turk: Can I kiss you?

Lindsey: That's ridiculous. No.

Turk: (laughs) Do you want to drink a tea with me?

Lindsey: No, I am meeting my friend here.

Turk: Ok, see you later!

Lights out. End of play.


And this, dear reader, is but a snippet of an oft repeated scene enacted on the sexy streets of Istanbul. I returned to the fabled city after a few snow filled days in Ankara, where I helped in the creation of a snow fort, drank Salep (sort of like liquid vanilla pudding) and re-watched a few Woody Allen flicks.

Stepping off the bus into Taksim square, now decorated with strings of white lights, I easily made my way back to Ian's apartment, and knew I was close when I passed some sassy transvestites and the corner stand that sells intestine sandwiches.  It was lovely to see my friend Ian again, we spent some time catching up and eating cookies, and of course drank beer at Ritim, the local watering hole.  Ian's apartment building is in the midst of some small renovations, and they TOOK OFF THE ROOF the other day. That's right, as in, walk up to the top floor and check out the dark sky through rips in the plastic.

The weather was wretched, though familiar, as I waded my way through 2 days of very cold, rainy weather, not uncommon for this time of year. I spent a day wandering around the Blue Mosque, then stopping by to visit with my friend Melanie and her husband Ferhat.  Ferhat is a chef, and made a delicious dinner that night of white beans with peppers, and an eggplant salad dotted with thyme.  Melanie and I drank tea and made paper snowflakes, and we walked around the spice market and grand bazaar that night, dodging rivers of water that rolled down the streets, eating baclava type deserts and tangerines.

I spent a few hours at the Modern Art Museum, watched the men fishing off the Galata bridge, and bought a few last pieces of schwag to cart home with me.

Turkey got under my skin, and I feel that now that I have traversed a small portion of it, I have a sense of where I might like to go when I come back.  It is a confusing, interesting place, most certainly.  A country where Kurds are underdogs, to say the least, Armenian churches empty and the topic taboo, everybody seems gay but is apparently straight, women with headscarves cannot take classes, some people still believe that "gypsies stole my chicken," and "Jews control all the money." A place where Istanbul Turks work 14 hour days for 12 lira, and village men sit from morning to night sipping tea. Where if you meet a woman's family it means you want to marry her, where though people may be poor, there always seems to be enough to eat.  I won't soon forget the amount of delicious olives, bread, cheese, and various dishes I ingested so happily, the sweet farmers who promised to find me a husband if I come back, and the overwhelming kind hearted Turks and foreigners, and friends and strangers, I met along the way.  

As the plane arrived in Frankfurt from Istanbul the other morning the feeling of coming full circle was palpable. I made my way through the snowy streets, marveling at how familiar the city how felt, ready for beers and bratwurst.  I hung out with a friend last night and we recorded an original song of mine- what a delightful way to end a pilgrimage! My brain is still sifting through the last 3 months, but before I go I wanted to thank you again for your listening ear.

I think if one has the chance to go on a soul journey, whether it be to travel to a grandmother's homeland or visit sites of Richard Brautigan books, it should be attempted come hell or high water.  It seems that in searching for what we think we are lacking, we many times find that we had everything we needed all along. That has been my experience at least.

I don't feel this is the end of my adventuring, in fact quite the opposite. Though I am still sorting through some logistics, I will give you a hint that my days in Seattle are numbered. Seattle and I need to have "the talk" when I get back.  I think I will take Seattle to Greenlake, we will walk around and drink our lattes and I will say, "I know we have been together a long time, but I think we need to see other people now." Seattle is like the long term boyfriend I couldn't bring myself to break up with, but I wasn't sure I wanted to marry.

I envision myself living somewhere warm for the time being, where a kitchen garden of basil and mint can be tended, little cactus can dot the windowsill, and rain will be contained to afternoon thunderstorms.  A place where my father can drink Tequila sunrises on the front porch, and we can start a Linda Ronstadt cover band.

But in the interim, I look forward to seeing your sweet Seattle and Portland faces, eating some pumpkin pie and imbibing some strong micro brew, watching season 3 of Madmen and riding my bike again.

The snow is falling heavily here, and I have my fingers crossed I make it out of Germany tomorrow morning as scheduled despite the impending blizzard.  I will dream tonight of Polish trains, Grzybow farm, my soul man Mick in his angel wings, Hope mama and the smell of Jasmine, Turkish villages, high school friends, rembetica beats and short lived bands.

I think this is the start of a beautiful thing. See you on the other side.

This is Red, signing off.