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Teemeah · 04-30-2009

This is a short story I have been writing for some time. Though it's fiction it is based on my true story.

Hope you'll enjoy. I'll post some chapters every day if you like reading it

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Moonlight

„I want to go there. Why is that anyone else can go there and I won’t ever have a single chance to see Turkey?”, I pushed the little buttons on my keyboard in front of the flashing screen. On the other side, 350 kms from me, my friend Clau might have been already falling asleep from my continuous flow of complaining and grumbling.

„Go then. What keeps you back?”, she wrote to me sending me a nasty-looking smilie.

„What-what? I have a work here, my mom would kill me and anyway whadda f**king hell am I to do in Turkey??”

„You could teach…”

„Nah, you kidding? I’m fed up with teaching and anyway I looked after it and everywhere they only want native speaking English teachers and I am not one”, I typed with extreme speed, most probably my Hungarian language teacher Ms Winnettou, as we used to call her because of her huge falcon-nose, would have fainted seeing all my mistyping and spelling, regarding I used to be her best speller in class. I’m developing backwards, that’s what I experienced throughout twelve years of speaking foreign languages. Soon I will forget my own mother tongue dammit.

„I thought of being a guide but I need another damned certificate for that. I’ll start university this autumn, I really don’t have time for another college degree. …. Your mom is a guide, isn’t she? What kinda certificate did she need? Just in case…”

„She doesn’t have any. Didn’t need it. But she has experience”, there appeared a huge laughing smilie in the MSN window from her side, „She’s been a guide in Greece for 10 years now”

„Thanks for encouraging…”, I replied attaching a heartbreakingly crying little smilie and hit enter.

„Oh Com’on, why don’t you try it? Give yourself a chance”, she typed and it stuck in my head. Yeah, why not give it a try? Almost immediately I started typing my new curriculum vitae and searched the net for the address of the major travel agencies. Next day I did a print out and posted my CVs to five companies.

One or two weeks passed by and I did get calls from travel agencies thanking my application, telling me they were sorry but all places had already been taken. Yes, it was my fault, I posted my applications in late June when the tourist season had already started and obviously every company already had guides out there. One afternoon, I was finishing my training class of Hungarian railways workers, officials and ticket conductors who were struggling to learn a European language to be able to communicate with the growing number of foreigners – most probably accidentally – turning up in our North-Eastern region close to the Ukrainian border. Just a minute after I closed the coursebook and waved goodbye to my students my phone rang. A nice but determined female voice told me they needed a guide to Antalya as soon as possible because the clients hadn’t been much delighted with the guide they had and they wanted him to return. I felt some Ozzy Osborne was hitting my heart like a drum in a zigzagging manner. Finally the opportunity! We agreed to meet on a Friday afternoon, for which I had to travel to the capital, four hours of a long, wearing and quite dull journey by train, during which I tried to kill time by listening to my collection of Turkish music – basically to give me some power to win this job.

I managed to get through the city I didn’t really like and the transportation of which I found quite chaotic and incomprehensible and finally I found the office of Moonlight Travels. I entered and was immediately sat down by the boss, the lady who called me, and she asked me a few typical questions and half an hour later I was already phoning my boss back in my small town to ask him for a long holiday leave and fortunately he was fair and nice enough to let me go, permanently. That afternoon I managed to meet the girls, my friends from the nightly Turkey-chatroom and after a fabulous dinner in a Turkish restaurant well-named Seray, I caught the seven o-clock train back to my town wondering how I was going to tell my mother that I would be working in Turkey for two and a half months. Of course my mother was not over the moon at this news. I was smitten with remorse for leaving her alone with all her problems both mental and financial but I felt I had to follow my heart, wherever it takes me.

It took me to big changes in my life, starting with another telephone call on next Monday when I was already in the middle of packing my things. It was a male voice who introduced himself as Botond, of Beaux Tours and explained that Moonlight Tours decided to let their guide stay in Antalya and that Beaux Tours would „take me over”, for half of the promised salary, as they had only smaller groups to Antalya. I felt like God was holding out a carrot to me – just to pull it back while rolling on the floor laughing. I had to decide, to be or not to be (sic! Shakespeare) brave enough to penetrate into the unknown. Shakespeare would probably be proud of me. I wasn’t so much undecisive as Hamlet. And had I known that this little swap-by-the-companies would lead me to quite an adventure!

Magic · 05-01-2009

you write nice material, Teemeah. Thanks for sharing!

Lord Grendel · 05-02-2009

Yes nicely written Teemeah, if I ever do go to Turkey, I want to visit the ruins at Peresopolis, and the abandoned city of the Hittite empire, can't remember the name...Hanatushka?

Anyway keep posting and I'll follow your journey into the unknown.

Teemeah · 05-02-2009

1.

Fifth time on board of an airoplane I was quite calm. Probably becuase I didn’t have time to think about the statistics of plane crashes as I was too much busy trying to figure out how I was going to manage the very first arrival of my very first group. I was thrown into deep water (too bad I can’t swim), that is I arrived with the group itself, to lead along them in a city I myself didn’t have a clue about. I buried myself into a Turkey travel guide trying to remember as much information about Antalya and its region as I could – which was not a tough job considering the book had half a page about it. Of course I was told by Botond that some woman was going to wait for me at the airport, named Meltem, and that she was a very nice lady who was about to help me around in the first few days. I hoped so. But still I was going deep into the unknown, like Willard into the „heart of darkness” and I kinda felt like a badly manufactured Martin Sheen on a Vietnamese boat in Coppola’s remake, the only difference was that I did not chace any Kurtzes with half a cigarette in my whiskey-tasting mouth.

When reading the book, with half an ear, I did listen to what the tourists were talking about and some of them were so nerve-racking I started praying they wouldn’t be my clients. There was a blonde woman who was continuously complaining about everything. She started with the food we got on board.

„What’s this white thing?” – „Turkish rice pudding, darling”, her husband answered patiently.

„Argh… This meat is tasteless.” – „There’s the salt, dear”, came the reply from hubby.

„I don’t like olives. Why do they put olives in the salad?!” – „I will eat it darling”, answered hubby. Then five minutes later she found something else to cling onto.

„Why don’t these flight attendants speak Hungarian? There are some two hundred people on this flight and the stewardesses don’t speak Hungarian, this is absolutely revolting!”

I saw hubby heave a big sigh and I couldn’t help myself saying something.

„It’s because this is a Turkish flight, m’am. The agencies in Hungary all work with Turkish flights, like Atlasjet.” She was looking at me like as if I had been a freak and then shook her lion-like early-Madonna-blonde hairdo and waved. „I don’t care. I want Hungarian-speaking stewardesses.” I almost burst out laughing when an old, elegant lady sitting next row turned to Ms Complaints. „Next time choose a MALÉV flight dear, then. This is a charter flight…”

Ms Complaints, however, did continue complaining throuhgout the flight but apparently on a much lower voice.

When the plane landed and I got through the passport control and managed to get hold of my baggage after ten minutes waiting in the middle of the crowd, I stepped out of the arrival port of Antalya International Airport, right into the thrity-five degrees celsius and seventy percent humidity of Turkish air. Turkish air! I was breathing Turkish air! I was shivering all over and was almost unconsciously stepping towards a blonde lady who was holding a big Beaux Tours board in front of her. From all the tourists I was among the first to arrive and when I reached the blonde lady she immediately reached out her hand and welcomed me.

„Hello, you are Tamara, aren’t you?”, she said in a very pleasant voice in English with a little Turkish accent. „I’m Meltem. Welcome to Antalya. How was your flight?”

I didn’t really have time to answer as she immediately pushed a few papers in my hands and handed me a pen.

„Here’s the arrival list, dear. Check the names of the clients please as they arrive. Don’t worry, I will help you in everything”, she smiled and almost immediately our clients started flowing towards us. I checked their names, putting ticks next to each and re-counting them after we had everyone on our list arrived and thanks to Meltem’s professionality and the busy schedule I didn’t have time to be nervous about my very first acts as a guide. We lead the group of seven people to the minibus and Meltem told me everything I had to do, ask or say.

As I looked around in the minibus I saw people from all ages and from all social positions. There was a family with two adolescent children, and three older ladies. The man from the family was holding a digicam in his hands, absolutley seemed to be the most eager of all. They were continuously bombing me with questions of all kinds and I immediately forwarded the bombs to Meltem. And she was all smiles and politeness and answered every bit of them. As we were going through the city it was already darkening. The city lights were on and the wide streets with palm trees obeying the sea wind’s slow waves seemed majestic like in a painting. Finally we arrived to the Hotel Sylvia and I met the hotel’s cold but absolutely gorgeously looking manager, Christian, who, quite in a strange way, was Turkish but had a German name. In the first night the only thing I had to do was translation. Christian, still gorgeously looking in his white pants and blue shirt, told the clients everything about the hotel and its services and rules, and then Meltem had me tell them about the „info hour” – which later became the „daily nightmare” during my life in Antalya.

Half an hour later everyone cleared from the hall and finally I had time to let my feet tremble. Meltem was just smiling and led me to the back of the hotel where the restaurant was set up next to the swimming pool and sat me down. She joined and as she sat down immediately lit a cigarette, one of the two things – the other being the cell phone - unseparable from an urban Turk, male or female.

„They are going to open the restaurant soon, and we will also have dinner here”, she said and looked at me with searching glances.

„So this is your first time in Turkey?”, she asked and I nodded. „How do you like it?”

I felt quite embarrassed in the presence of this beautiful and well-mannered lady and tried to stop my feet’s trembling. „It’s … hot and wet”, I mumbled trying to smile.

„It’s always like that”, she laughed and pulled a struggling face. „Sometimes it’s very difficult here. Offff. So hot”, she fanned herself with the arrival list and started smoking another cigarette. I liked the way she included Turkish expressions in her English and the fact that she did not make any complaints about me not being a professional guide. Suddenly the restaurant was opened and we joined the queue of people at the self-service tables. While searching through the food plates Meltem was continuously telling me what is what.

„This is chi-köfte. You have to taste it, dear”. Dear. Throughout my stay in Antalya she always attached dear to every of her sentence and it suited her very much. First it was a strange thing to me and only months later did I understand she tried to put the English equivalent of a Turkish expression canım into her sentences, which the Turks use in addressing anyone familiar to them. Did you have a nice flight, canım? Canım, get me some water, will you? …

She went on explaining the food and I, like a good child following mom’s advice, took from everything she pointed out as delicious. We started eating and I let chi-köfte alone, as it did not taste very well, and Meltem sent me a glance of apology and added:

„This hotel can’t make good chi-köfte. But the salad is nice, isn’t it dear?” Oh yes, the salad and the pasta was wonderful but I couldn’t eat, I was too much nervous and excited of being in Turkey and so many things happened at once I was totally lost in them. Soon a small, balding, smiling young man joined us and Meltem introduced him as Murat, the driver, who took us to the hotel. He was one of the two drivers the Turkish company had and at first he was really shy while talking to me. Well, after he realized he could talk to me in Turkish. He asked Meltem how old I was and he was all so surprised when I answered him in Turkish. Meltem also hung up smoking for a second and looked at me from under her elegant glasses astonished.

„Aa. Türkçe konuşuyo!”, she said unconsciensciously in Turkish and the two Turks exchanged smiling glances. The truth was that I tried to speak Turkish, as never before uttered any Turkish sentence aloud. I did learn Turkish, teaching it to myself at home, from a book I had ordered from England, and using the widest resource of the world: the Internet. I could write quite well and read any text not too much complicated, but I couldn’t speak. It was not my fault, simply there wasn’t a single Turk in my surroundings whom I could talk to. I was always green with envy when my friends in Budapest were holding meetings in Turkish restaurants, meeting real Turks. I hated living so far from the capital, where apparently all the migrant Turks were so much happy to settle down. I told this to Meltem in English and she translated for Murat who didn’t speak any foreign languages.

„You have to speak more Turkish”, she said looking at me with a firm, determined, know-all glance. „Tamam mı?”. I agreed. Soon we got up to start the info hour for the clients, where they could ask as many questions as they could make up. And they did. Meltem answered them and I tried learning the information. The city has 1 million residents. The hotel is 300 m from the sea. Yes, Antalya is absolutely safe to be. The water is not for drinking. The beach is sandy. No, you cannot keep portable water boilers in your room, sir, this is not a camp, this is a hotel. Had I known how much trouble I would have with water boilers, I would have gone back in time to kill that fool who invented it purely just to drive me nuts in the future.

Lord Grendel · 05-06-2009

Very good Teemeah, I feel like I am in a Turkish cafe being immersed in a new culture. I look forward to the next chapter.

ANUBHUTI24 · 05-07-2009

Wow!! you do write very well..
That was very good.. Looking forward to read more...

Teemeah · 05-07-2009

Thank you, I'm glad you like it

Here's the next part.
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When I finally managed to reach my own hotel I was tired as if I had run a hundred kilometers. Meltem arranged my hotel booking and introduced the hotel manager, Ali, to me who was as thin as a pole and had a voice accordingly and was eager to take my suitcases and show my room. As I unpacked my baggae and tried to get used to the shower without a booth, I was still unsure that I was in Turkey. I sat down on my bed, turned on the TV and started to watch some Turkish channel. My room was an average two-star hotel one (although this was advertised as a three star hotel) with wall-to-wall carpets older than my mother and windows that had probably been cleaned only when the hotel was built. It didn’t really matter. I have never been choosy or snobbish so I knew I could just do with what I had. I could, however, hardly sleep that night. My heart was still beating fast and I was mumbling words I could till hardly believe: „I’m here, I’m here!”

The next days were like nightmares. If you thought being a guide is probably the easiest job on earth, you’ve never tried it, right? People sometimes had the strangest wishes and problems I have ever heard of. As my mother says God’s zoo is very big and it has a lot of animals…. How true! By the end of the day I was worn out like a fully packed camel in the desert. I tried to compensate it with looking around the area, trying to get to know more about the city so that I could give proper answers to the neverending river of questions from my clients. I discovered that the owner of the small shop at the corner of the street was very nice and smiling whenever I asked something in Turkish. He must have got used to tourists speaking a little Turkish like „Merhaaba, souk su varmi?”, without ever pronouncing it right. I also discovered that a tall, dark-skinned boy was always walking down our street every morning with a large bowl of some bakery on his head, which turned out to be simit, Turkish doughnut with sesame seeds and which I long wanted to taste. However it took me a month to buy one, as I always forgot it. I also discovered that dolmuş buses are easy to catch just the drivers are not easy to understand. Meltem kindly wrote me the address of their office in case I wanted to pop in and told me just to show this to the dolmuş driver and I will surely be able to find it. I knew from my previous readings that dolmuş buses do not have a bus stop and you just have to stand by the road and when seeing one of them approaching, reach out your hand, wave, and they will stop. Yes, they did. I went to the bus and uttered the question I had previously composed using my dictionary: „Şirinyalıdaki iş bankasına gidiyor mu?” That is „does this bus go to the WorkBank in Sirinyali?” He made a strange move with his head and I understood it as yes, and was already about to lift my foot to climb the unbelievably and not human-like enourmous stairs of the minibus manufactured probably in the 18th century, when the driver waved to me to back off. That was the moment I understood Turks express things differently. When the driver made a small movement with his head upwards, raising his eyebrows and clicked his tongue it meant a no. I realized that no matter how much I read about Turkey, I literary don’t know a **** about it.

Finally I managed to reach the office. It was quite an adventure although I didn’t do anything just sitting in the second row of seats. We rolled down the seaside road, I MEAN we rolled because sometimes I felt it was only Allah keeping that piece of transportation together, and I was killing time with watching the people getting in and off the bus. I learned that if you sit in the back of the dolmus you don’t usually go forward to give the money to the driver but instead you give it to the person sitting in front of you and he or she gives it ahead until it reaches the bus driver. I learned to say how to stop the bus, as it had no official bus stop you could get off anywhere you wanted. This meant sometimes people stopped the bus 10 times in half a minute. Of course it was fully understandable in the 45 degrees celsius: nobody wanted to walk a metre more than necessary. The bus had a natural air conditioning system: open doors. I found it quite amusing and very clever instead. Why spending hundreds on expensive air conditioners when you have good old mother nature with its wind and a simple physics rule: air resistance and speed. The bus seemed to ride by the rhythm of the arabesk song radiating from the radio, almost making my ears blow up. That was the only thing I couldn’t get used to in Turkey: arabesk music. And to my greatest luck in Turkey all bus and taxi drivers listen to arabesk. If it’s not arabesk, then you can bet it’s a football match. So I was watching people getting in and off, mothers in headscarves with their dark-skinned, dark-haired children with the biggest black eyes I’ve ever seen; young boys in jeans with hairdo imitating Tarkan’s, who is probably the most famous pop idol in Turkey; blond German tourists taping everything as if they were at least Japanese.

When I got off and found the office, my head was full with all the things I saw on the way, the people and the charming sight of the city. I had been in Antalya for less than a week and I already felt like at home. I was a bit nervous as I pushed the ring at the door of Prado Tours and it opened in a minute. Fortunately it was Murat, the driver, who opened it, otherwise I wouldn’t have known how to explain in Turkish who I was and what I wanted. He was smiling as usual and asked how I was. I managed to answer, being a bit shy about talking Turkish to a REAL Turk because I was afraid of making a fool of myself with my poor pronunciation and – god forgive – my grammar. Meltem was smoking her cigarette and talking on the phone – a sight I got used to quite soon. Whenever I think of Meltem she is always smoking and phoning in my memories. She nodded to me as a welcome and went on talking so fast in Turkish I was wondering how brave I was to start learning this language and to dare thinking I could understand it. I was happy to catch one or two words from what Murat was telling me in the meantime and I was just smiling at him and nodding at whatever he said. Finally Meltem finished talking and greeted me and then introduced me to Şenay hanım, the secretary and later that day I had the opportunity to meet the „boss”, Aytaç bey, whom I found a little bit frightening at first sight and somehow felt so much embarrassed and nervous whenever he appeared. This feeling had never gone from me and I still don’t know if it was because he was usually cold and kept a certain distance from everyone or just because he was always so serious and never smiled at work, and that was completely the opposite of what I experienced from Turks. My first day at the office went well and later on I started to love that place with its leather furniture, view on the palm tree road and a nice cosmetician, Meltem’s friend Fatoş hanım next door, who was always ready for small talk and reading the future from Turkish coffee.

Lord Grendel · 05-09-2009

Well written again Teemeah, I am curious have you ever been to Turkey? If not it sounds like you are destined to visit there when you get the chance.

Teemeah · 05-10-2009

Actually this is a true story

All the things you read here happened to me, there in Antalya.

Lord Grendel · 05-10-2009

Yeah I should have guessed that from all the detail you have written in your posts so far. Turkey has a lot of nice places, I would like to visit some day.