Gunaydın

I was brushing my teeth with my fınger (because I forgot my toothbrush in Michigan) in my third floor bathroom this mornıng when I heard it. I pulled open the strange mırror\window next to me only to discover a world that had magically been turned to winter over night. And through the stillness echoed the call to Salatu-I-Fajr, or morning prayer. I said to stuffed tıger: "Bangy, I don't think we're in America any more"

Rewind 18hrs< < <
     We exchanged emails and with one quıck hug promised to talk soon. He was a guy from Ney York here for a semester of study abroad, I was a graduate from Michigan suddenly wondering what I was actually here for and what the hell I had just gotten myself into. I think both of us realized that this was the last vestige of Amerıcan companionship we would have for some time. I went to the Visa booth and was so shocked at how easy and fast it was that I think I may have just stood staring at the girl behind the counter for a few minutes after she grabbed my 20 dollars, slapped the stamp in my passport and thanked me. Then I shuffled sheeplike through the "Passport" queue and without so much as a moment of eye contact with the agent I was in the country.
     So much for homeland security.
     Baggage collected I walked out the doors into a scene from a movie. Or the SAG awards. Dırectly outside the airport doors there was a dividing wall holding back a crowd of men (I know, funny metaphor for something I've never had to do in my life). Many of them holding signs. I paused for the pap to snap my picture, posed, molehill of bagage trailing when I spotted my sign: "Vada Horse" with the H and an M hurridly scribbled in.
     Meet Sami.
     Loaded into the "VIP Car" sitting in the front seat next to our driver it takes me only seconds to realize that Turkish driving ettiquite and American driving don't even belong to the same Phyllum. "It's rainıng" both my driver and later the father point out. As if the the total and universal disobeying of traffic laws, traffic lanes, and common sense is to be excused by the weather.
     Through a complex system of exaggerated pantomime, Turklish (self created term indıcating and basterdised mix of turkish and english) and writing in my holographic alien notebook, Sami and I soon dropped into a conversation about American NBA players and how many children were in our perspective families. It took only minutes for this 49yr old man to become my first friend in Turkey...

Washed, dressed ın pajamas and ready for bed hours later (after a whirlwind afternoon of unpacking, helpiıng the girls with homework and sampling Turkish dishes while both girls, the cleaning girl Ayşe and the older woman Döndü looked on and laughed at my apparently sad attempts to learn the Turkish names), I was in my room and gave into a few self indulgent tears.

Some things I learned today:
1. I never want to drive here. Ever.
2. Due to sıze, this city ıs going to be a lot harder to get around then I thought
2.5. Istanbul is beautiful and I love it already
3. The language is going to be a lot more of a barrier then I expected.