A couple of weeks ago we were planning to fly to Slovenia, where we would spend the Thanksgiving holiday and from there go on to Italy where we would be for Christmas and beyond. However, after a surge in Covid-19 infections and tightening restrictions in these two countries I changed our flight at the last minute to Antalya, Turkey.
Turkey was never part of the plan for this year. The plan was to split the year between Italy, Portugal and Montenegro with possibly a bit of Greece thrown in the mix. It seems we go where the winds take us these days.
And as exciting as it is to go to a new country, it’s also a bit of a hassle. It’s not just the pandemic that is a problem, but also the kids’ need for a good internet connection, ND’s overwhelming time commitment to school and the continually growing mass of luggage that I have to drag around.
The taxi driver is honking his horn. ND can’t find his mask. NG needs to go to the bathroom. Half of our many bags are piled on the street, the others are up a narrow flight of stairs and I’m running back and forth carrying them to the street one at a time. This feels like a recurring nightmare, but rather it’s the journey to the airport in Belgrade.
I can’t find my computer bag, but then I see the driver is helping me out by forcefully jamming it into the trunk. Then my phone rings. It’s the bank calling to ask if I made an eight dollar charge in South Carolina. I did not, so they will be canceling the card.
It’s a smooth ride to the airport, but when the driver opens the boot everything comes crashing out. I hear glass shattering. It’s Tola’s new glass cookware set and as we sort through the broken glass in the suitcase I feel a bit of guilty relief that we will no longer have to lug it around with us.
My back is already aching by the time we get to the baggage counter and find that the airline has implemented a new no-carry-on policy to curb the spread of the virus. Carry-on bags must now be checked. Since most of our carry-ons are computers and other breakable electronics, I argue to keep them with us. We get to bring the computers, but not the cables.
I think we all know that we will be arriving exhausted in Turkey.
On our flight the kids asked me how it has come to pass that this country to which we were headed is named after America’s Thanksgiving dinner. I explained to them that Turkeys were in fact named after Turkey, rather than the other way around. Native to the Americas, the bird was named by the British at a time when the Turks ruled over a big chunk of Europe. Every country we have been to on this trip was once a part of the Ottoman Empire, as well as many of their neighbors. The British, a bit threatened by this power, named the awkward, goofy-looking bird after the great Sultan, Suleiman the Magnificent, as an insult to his appearance, the Sultan being kind of overweight, wrinkled and of sagging jowls. ND and NG listened on, taking it for granted that I know all there is to know about all there ever was. I finished the story by telling them that they might want to check it up as I made it all up. I really had no idea, but my story kind of sounded like it could be true.
The true story is not really all so different minus the jowls. The British named the bird the turkey chicken because they thought it was an Asian guinea fowl, a bird that was often referred to as the Indian Chicken or the Turkish Chicken. Maybe they went with Turkey on this one as they were already calling the native people Indians.
Turkey is one of the few countries without restrictions on entry for Americans. It is far from complacent in measures to control the pandemic though. The Turkish ministry of health has organized a computer tracking system to monitor every passenger on any kind of intercity travel and they are testing people who may have been exposed at the airports and other locations with rapid results. They have also developed their own vaccine which preliminary testing shows to be effective.
We arrived in Turkey just as the government began enforcing some confusing new restrictions to curb the spread of the virus. One of these was an 8:00 pm curfew. Fearful of being fined, the people from the rental company where we had booked a car all went home and left us stranded at the airport in the dark. Fortunately, we found a taxi driver who either had a curfew pass or didn’t know about the curfew. We dropped off our bags at the hotel and, hungry and thirsty after not eating on our flight, headed out the door to find a restaurant. The staff stopped us, sadly shaking their heads. “The police will get you if you go out at this time.”
After a quick phone call though, they decided that we could go out after all as the rules only apply to locals, not to foreigners. The same goes for mask rules: locals need to wear them in all public places, outdoors or indoors. Foreigners are free to enjoy the fresh air.
Nothing was open during curfew hours anyway though.
The next day, we found our corner of the city to be so nice that I was sorry we already made plans to leave after two nights there. I wasted much of the day trying to sort out our rental car (they finally delivered it to us) and my bank card (ATM ate it) before we could enjoy the nice warm day that ended not at 3:00 pm like in Serbia, but a more comfortable 6:00 pm.
We also managed to explore a beautiful city park full of masked picnickers and waterfalls. Tola found some fish to buy and we enjoyed a meal in a cavernous restaurant open only for us. The day ended with me lost in peaceful contemplation under the most magnificent sunset imaginable (until ND pulled on my sleeve and said “you’ve got two more minutes and then we’re going back to the hotel.”)
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