Arriving to Turkey wasn’t easy. I would describe it as an absolute disaster.
Too many kilos in my luggage, rude staff (sometimes I miss the “fake English politeness”) at Charles de Gaulle airport where I stopped for a few hours in order to not overpass my travelling budget too much, if that was possible in a AGP-ADB.
First surprise of the late night was being picked up by two girls who didn’t speak any English at all, but they hugged me like they knew me for years! One of them tried to communicate with me in Spanish because she has visited Chile some time ago and I couldn’t stop laughing when one of her first questions was “¿Tienes pololo?”. Luckily that I did hang out with some Chileans before and I know the meaning. Non Spanish speakers will never understand that among 477 million native people speaking my language, we may have some BIG differences sometimes, even arriving to the point of not being able of understanding each other.
That was just the beginning, the night just started.
They took me in their car in a very funny road trip with Tarkan songs and those Turkish shiny lights as landscape. I felt I finally landed in Turkey.
Girls didn’t find the way to my home so the most normal thing to do was asking to a random “pizza guy” driving his little moto with no helmet (La DGT española no estaría muy contenta). Then I realized how we were driving in the wrong direction but girls seemed so relaxed about that. If I die, I die like a local, for sure.
Another car met us in the way (of couse it was going to happen at some point) and guess what? It was a narrow street so almost no chance to position the car on one of the sides. My new friend tried to move it and she ended up tearing down a bollard. I thought our car was not going to be able to work again because she may have destroyed the engine.
I saw myself sleeping on the street that night. Fortunately, our car was safe and sound and here it comes the Turkish fact of the day: the driver of the other car (a VERY TURKISH gentlemen who I could perfectly marry) jumped into the driver’s seat and took the commands to set the car out with only me (and my 40 kg luggage as another human being) inside the car.
How normal would be in Europe that a stranger take your car in the middle of the night because you are stuck without asking? Well, it looked like here it was the most normal thing of the world.
When we finally reached my “house”, what else could be wrong? Ringing the bell and no one answering? Yes, exactly that.
After a while some teenagers opened us and lucky me, bloody god, one of them spoke a little bit of English. We ended up making a video call to Chile so the brother of the “pololo girl” could try to explain me in his basic Spanish what they were saying in Turkish to me.
So they left me there without understanding half of all the information they wanted me to be aware of. I could finally close my eyes in my tiny bed and let my mind fly towards my dreams coming true from that moment onwards.
The adventure officially began.