It was a special night. We left the tourist
traps able to accommodate groups of 35 for what some consider to be the best restaurant in Istanbul. We took the tram to the ferry to go to Asia (yes,
Istanbul straddles two continents!). By “we” I mean the entire group of 30
teachers.
Dinner was yummy. Chef decides the meal
based on what is local and in season. The vegetarian options divine. Fresh
juices (blackberry and tamarind).
It was such a leisurely enjoyed meal that
we then rushed to catch the last ferry back to Europe. Prior to the rush, a man
selling balloons had a pegacorn (Pegasus plus unicorn), which he sold to our
pegacorn-enthusiast, Leah.
On the ferry, I sat on the periphery of the
group with Brent and Pat. The rest of the group was having fun and laughing
loudly (I think the pegacorn was involved).
I noticed a Turkish man alone to my right
who was becoming increasingly perturbed by the noise.
He made eye contact with me.
I busted out the one Turkish word I could
muster with any confidence, “Merheba.” (I think my pronunciation of this one
word was getting pretty accurate since people stated spewing Turkish at me so
quickly I couldn’t keep up beyond the “how are you?”; one guy even spoke to me
in English to ask me to say it again, informing me that the pronunciation was
perfect).
Apparently, pronunciation on spot again
because the guy on the ferry came and sat next to me, going on and on in
Turkish.
It didn’t take long for him to figure out
that I had no idea what he was saying. But, as I always tell my students, 90%
of communication is actually non-verbal. He then proceeded to explain to me how
obnoxious “that” group of foreigners over there was by rolling his eyes and
using the universal signal of twirling a finger near his head.
Ah yup, that’d be the group of teachers
that has been my family for the past few weeks. Right, I don’t know them.
He then offered me his tea. I refused. He
put the tea in my hand and disappeared.
Uh…
I then realized he’d gone to get himself
another tea. So now this is some sort of date?
I looked to Brent and Pat, sitting on my
left, being amused by this whole interaction. Brent quipped, “Be sure there
isn’t a rufi in there.”
Eric came by to sit next to me and I said,
“Uh, I’m kind of on a date right now, apparently. You can’t sit there.”
The man returned, tea in hand.
He tried the only English he knew, “Where
are you from?”
“United States.”
Silence. Sips of tea. Awkwardness.
 |
| Thanks, Brent, for the memory! |
He pointed to our group again and we bonded
over how crazy “they” were (Sorry, gang, for throwing you under the bus like
that!).
Then he held up his hand, and with the
other hand pointed to the ring finger inquisitively.
“No,” I said as I shook my head.
I returned the motion to him.
“Yes,” he smiled.
Wait. Either this guy is married and is on
a date with me on this ferry, or I just asked him to marry me and he said yes!
Saved by the dock.
It became rather obvious rather quickly
that that “crazy” group of foreigners was actually my crazy group of foreigners. I thanked him for the tea and got off
with the group.
