Tales From Turkey
In October of 1988, I embarked on a journey that would take me through the heart of the Turkish countryside and into the bustling city of Istanbul. The bus was a smoke-filled vessel, packed with men dressed in drab gray suits and black mustaches, all in a different world from me. Yet, there was one figure who stood out among the rest, a stewardess, who drifted down the aisle with a delicate bottle of clear liquid in hand. One by one, the men would hold out their palms to receive a few drops of the fragrant liquid, which I soon learned was not cologne, but rather, a rose water with a faint and pleasant aroma.
As dawn broke, I caught glimpses of the country women, dressed in their pajama-like pants and vests with bold flower patterns, going about their daily business. Although I cannot recall our arrival in Istanbul, I do remember checking into my hotel room, with an archaic view of the walls of Topkapı Palace and the room-sized structure that was the city's oldest mosque. I drifted off to sleep, lulled by the haunting call to prayer that echoed throughout the city. That afternoon I set out to explore my surroundings, sketching pastel drawings of the grounds between the magnificent Blue Mosque and the historical Hagia Sofia.
The following day at breakfast, I had the uncertain pleasure of meeting an American couple, both financial journalists for U.S. News and World Report, who were on their honeymoon. They had recently returned from a trip to Czechoslovakia, behind the Iron Curtain, and spoke surprisingly of the lack of vibrancy and the general feeling of depression among the people.
It was then that we were served by the receptionist, hostess, and waitress all in one - a beautiful young woman by the name of Nimet. She was about 20 years old, with pale skin, dark hair, dark eyes, a delicate nose, and an elegant pinkish mouth. She was fluent not only in her native Turkish, but also in English, Arabic, and French, a truly remarkable young woman. Our conversations over the days led to an invitation to join her on a boat trip along the Seven Hills of Istanbul, an offer I eagerly accepted.
As we journeyed down the Bosphorus, we shared stories of our lives and families, and Nimet revealed her love for the music of Bizet's Carmen. Our boat stopped and let us off at a rickety old pier and while we waited for the return journey, we feasted on freshly grilled mussel sandwiches slathered with garlic aioli, all the while taking in the exotic surroundings.
It was on the way back that Nimet's demeanor shifted, and I knew that I was about to hear the purpose of her invitation. She confided in me that her parents were in the process of arranging her marriage to a stranger, a tradition that was all too common in her culture. We discussed potential stall tactics, including the possibility of her traveling abroad as an au pair. Upon our return to the pier, she swore me to secrecy, as she had told her parents one thing and the hotel manager another, in order to sneak away for the boat trip.
The following morning, the journalist couple engaged Nimet in conversation and asked about the state of women's rights in Turkey. Nimet handled their questions with grace and skill, speaking in generalities that satisfied the couple, who, as enlightened journalists, were no doubt content with her answers.
The journey to Istanbul was one filled with wonder, discovery, and a glimpse into a world vastly different from my own. I will always treasure my time spent with the remarkable young woman, Nimet.
Delightful descriptions! Did you ever find out if Nimet was successful in escaping her arranged marriage?