Turkish Delights (I couldn't resist the pun)

Tonight is my last night in Turkey. I plan to celebrate my birthday with a nice meal, a long bath and that stubborn bottle of wine. Wild times! But I always have things in mind to post here and then I forget to do so. Consider this a sampling from the grab bag of my observations. Scary, I know.

I've really enjoyed Turkish food. I was expecting to find and love all the eggplant and yogurt, and I've never put away so many tomatoes and cucumbers in my life. The deliciousness and variety of the bread did surprise me. Turks are bakers! Fresh is best, and I've been hard pressed to get stale bread anywhere (not that I was trying). There's loads of street food, which is a trait I admire in a culture. Today, in the Ortakoy district of Istanbul, I tried the kumpir.
A kumpir is a baked potato with all the trimmings one could possibly imagine. First, the potato is split and butter and shredded cheese are thoroughly mixed into the fluffy goodness. You could stop there, and in hindsight, I rather wish I had, but that wouldn't be having the kumpir, would it? I did flatly reject the meat, which was some scary kind of pink processed beef dice. I didn't refuse the rest of the trimmings, which include but are not limited to: corn, peas, red cabbage, olives, carrots, pickles, yogurt, chili sauce, jalapenos, and, I am not making this up, Russian potato salad. Potato salad in a baked potato! They are then topped with ketchup and mayonnaise, but I could not allow that to happen to my kumpir. These things are beasts, just enormous, and somewhat frightening as a meal. I made my through half of one, and I don't think I'll make another attempt.

When I'm out and about, I always figure I look like what I am - someone who doesn't really know where she's going. And it's not a big leap from that to tourist. So when someone seems to think that I might be a native, I am always surprised and, truthfully, a little pleased. My inability to speak the language dispels the illusion quickly, but still, I have that moment! Yesterday, here in Istanbul, a man tried to sell me life insurance (I think). I was in a commercial district, not touristy, and he was handing out pamphlets. I actually did know where I was going, so I was walking briskly, rather than in the "I'm taking it all in" or "I really hope this is the right way" mode that farangi employ the world over. I was asked for directions in Italy numerous times, but funnily enough, no one really took me for Egyptian or Moroccan.

You read it here first: I am officially fake-engaged. Too many marriage proposals, love letters, motorbike-ride offers, and less interesting overtures have been thrown my way. And that's just in Turkey. I chalk it up more to the fact that I'm from the west and that I'm alone than on my innate allure. Whatever it is, the next man who gets up in my business is getting a lie! I did make up a fake boyfriend on one of my night buses. Turkish buses have stewards - they come up and down the aisle with drink carts, give out snacks, etc. On my 13 hour ride out of Capadoccia, the steward was determined to teach me the names of all the drivers and attendants, handy Turkish phrases, etc. A few hours in, he asked if I had a boyfriend. I figured if I said no, I was never going to sleep! So out popped a fib. And wouldn't you know, I had to ask for water refills thereafter. The trick is going to be telling the lie at just the right moment...

Who knows? Maybe I won't need to hone that skill in Indonesia, which is where I'll be next. Thanks for all the birthday wishes, folks. I'll let you know if I feel older after another red-eye flight to Jakarta.