Turkish delighted

It has been said (by a friend, who's link I'm not sure I should give out) that if Thailand is the destination for sex tourism, Turkey is the place to go for good old-fashioned, gentlemanly courtship techniques. For those of you who wish to re-live the long lost art of courting, just go to Istanbul and wait to be repeatedly hit on. Exclusively by men, so be careful in stating your sexual inclination.

There are many types of on-hitters and I’m sure we have yet to encounter all forms but, if there’s one thing they want, that sums up to: speak, state beautifulness of opposing party, and get married. To European girls, evidently, and only after marriage to get to know each other. And no, there’s no other way and, among the millions of questions a girl gets in Istanbul, none faintly resembles “would you like to date me?” or, for that matter, “would you like to have a first date with me and not have me jump on you, because why not?!?”

There are, however, standard questions that you always, always get, and, curiously enough, you get them in this exact order:

-       Where you from? the “are” in this sentence is optional, hanging on the firm or loose grasp on the English language of the on-hitter. The answer is usually followed by “aaa! Insert country stereotype here” – in our case “Aaa! Hagi! Gud, gud.”

-       What’s your name? offering a wide variety of options, depending on the imagination and creativity of the on-hitter (have no doubts about the memory of these individuals – not a name shall escape their keen capacities), but usually causing a predictable “Me, Yusuf”, delicately pointing at the perfectly shaved or lushly hairy, but mostly visible décolleté while making use of a teethy grin to show a maximum level of friendliness.

-       You first time Turkey? with all its variations regarding county, area, city, etc.

-       What do you like most about Istanbul? where the answer typically brings on new explanations on the named preferred aspect and ends with “do you have Facebook?” *blink*

From this point on there’s a straight, logical line to:

-       Are you married?

-       You are beautiful.

-       Would you marry me?

-       You want Turkish man? I modern man, international!

-       I love you!

-       You have boyfriend? – this (last one) with a slight tremor of the voice and confusion on the inquirer’s face, because there simply can’t be any other reason for your refusal.

Let’s have a rapid look on the different types of men that will hit on you that are normally met on the Istanbul’s busy streets.

1.    The too-shy-to-try-anything on-hitter

So you walk to the train and you start asking the Romanian conductors questions about your train seat availability (you were having some suspicions when you first laid eyes on the ticket because it had no actual seat or passenger car number) and, as they jadedly raise their shoulders, they just point to the Turkish conductor. He waves you in and just like that, you have your own personal compartment (only you don’t know that yet; and you’ll not know until you finally get off the train).

For the first few hours everything’s great. You can sleep, read or just go completely crazy because your phone will not work anymore just meters outside Romanian territory. Then Bulgarian officers scan your passport and you’re off. To the next train station, where you stop. Yusuf the conductor gestures for you to follow him, and you comply like a well trained show dog. He subsequently acts out 30 minutes of waiting in front of what is to become your next means of transportation: a local bus. You have already been informed back home: they’re working at the railway tracks, which means that, for now (Yusuf says: forever) Bulgarian railroads are being repaired and buses will take their place. Also, for now (Yusuf says: for now) Turkish railroads are being repaired and buses will take their place. Yusuf says: Turkey good; Bulgaria bad.

At the train station, being very tired from his aerobics explaining-something-in-English class, Yusuf wants to drink coffee and invites you along. Stupidly, you go, get coffee for free, lie about your profession (“I teacher. I teach English language.”), and panic because you don’t know what to speak with this man. Luckily, your time is up and you have to get to the bus.

The Bulgarian conductors tell you to get on the bus and Yusuf shows you a place to sit. And again, you stupidly follow his indications just like a sheep follows its herd: you sit and Yusuf sits next to you. I think this is a good time to add the following: there are 6 people in total on a 52 person bus. Two of them are Bulgarian train (ha!) conductors. They each sit on the first two seats on either side of the bus. Two of them are British tourists. They are friends but sit separately so as to be able to extend their legs. One of them is Yusuf. The last one is you. You sit next to Yusuf because that’s how he wanted it. You are simply stupid! Point taken.

By the time you get to the Turkish border, Yusuf only wants you to buy whiskey for him. Him, being a train (ha!) conductor, cannot be seen buying or consuming alcohol, so he sends a delegate: you. He will still try to talk to you but you’re in no mood of talking after 17 hours on the train. Yusuf’s chances perished the minute he walk on the bus.

2.    The casual, walk-on-by on-hitter

Just walking opposite you, he slyly smiles, bids “hello”, maybe even winks and then, as you walk on, he turns and shouts “you so beautiful”.

A variation of this requires more patience on both sides and involves walking in the same direction, thus having time to go through the first golden questions. For example, while passing in front of a guarded (probably secret and/or governmental) building at 7 o’clock in the morning, totally confused, thoroughly tired and completely mesmerized, a young, fully armed police officer walks out of the building.

            “Hello” he says, AK in hand, smiling excitedly.

            “Hello” you say, happy to finally meet someone on the streets that maybe knows English and is not blissfully drunk. “You know where tourist info is?”

            “Yes, yes, come. Where you from? What’s your name?”

            “Asha. Yours?”

            “Yusuf.”

            “So, which way to tourist info?”

            “One moment plees.” To colleague: “… Turkish, Turkish, Turkish, info, Turkish”. Shakes head. Doesn’t know.

            “Information office?”

            His face lights up. “Aaa! That way, h’ndrd meetrs.”

            “Hey, thank you!”

            “You beautiful. I love you!”

            Lots of laughing, smiling, bye-bye-ing and all the rest. 20 meters away, he shouts your name. You turn around and he gestures his beating heart with his right hand while cradling his police-issued lethal weapon.

3.    The curious, drunkard on-hitter

While indulging in botellón, as in the act of drinking your own beverages in the available square – yes, Spanish people have an actual word for this activity –, the representative of 3 (himself included) inebriated Turks will start asking 2 unattended girls questions: where from? what name? can I touch dreadlocks? etc.

Because they are already drunk and cannot speak (or understand) the language, the others will hang around, broadly grinning, trying to make sense of what is being said and just barely catching the idea (not that there are any philosophical conversations or anything).

At some point, one abruptly gets up and walks away. When he returns, he produces a small tube of superglue and proceeds to glue the sole of the girl’s sandals back together, taking care to not disturb the little pinkies, but to caress and cherish them.

The girl is totally flabbergasted and completely won over by the gesture, yet still will not give herself away that easy. The others are in awe for the inspired moment Yusuf had. They are envious. They invite the girls to another place to have some drinks but have to leave alone: the glue worked on the girls as well as on the shoes, so the girls will stay put.

4.    The cool, hip on-hitter

While the drunkards are making their move, he glances casually over his shoulder and smiles at the girls, as if to say that he understands the annoyance of the girls. Finally, after the drunkards leave with their tails between their legs, he gloriously speaks, inviting the girls over to his – and, conveniently, his friend’s – place in the square or, if it’s better, they can move over next to the girls.

He is an IT specialist, working for Windows, but right now he is on holiday and spends his nights in the tourist area of Istanbul (incidentally, he used to have a German girlfriend). His American English is amazing and, like, all trendy, like, just like his, like, hairdo… like. He has Facebook and he is posting from the clubs which he frequents. His friend? No speak English…

He will not admit to any form of flirting, but “if you guys aren’t, like, doing anything, like, you can hang out with us…”

5.    The total gentleman on-hitter

While passing next to a hookah place, two girls decide to enter. They’re immediately greeted and pampered by the staff, which accommodates them right next to a group of 3 government official looking men, all ear to ear smiles and heavy, blue smoke circles. After a little shoving, the men appoint a speaker – the youngest – who will represent the interests of the group. One of them, a 40 year old looking man, oblivious to foreign languages, is incredibly thrilled by the newcomers and tries to transmit his feelings and insists on learning the words: “Fatma, I love you! I come to Vienna! You are so beautiful!”

Their reaction at finding out that it’s one of the girls’ birthday is prompt: Yusuf (the youngest) quickly slips out and comes back bearing gifts – chocolate cakes and nazarboncuk, a traditional good luck charm against the evil eye, for both girls. After that they can’t stop talking, asking and joking with the girls. Yusuf (the in love one) painfully needs to express his eulogy and his passion and is on the verge of singing if that can help; Yusuf (the married one) just keeps mocking Yusuf (the in love one), but tries to be always helpful when questioned about Turkish culture. The forth one only keeps whispering to the ones around him, being too shy to even try to say something. He then bluntly asks (through a translator) for one of the girls’ phone number. Of all, Yusuf (the youngest) does his best to communicate and to be extremely attentive and chevalier like with the two girls.

By the end of the night, Yusuf (the youngest) finally succeeds in getting a phone number and the promise to meet again the next evening (although he tried, as ineffectively as the others, to get the girls to spend the whole day together) – this mostly because the social security people (that’s what the Yusufs are) paid for everything the girls ordered.

The next evening, the girls get a text message saying that the meeting place has changed but they will be waiting at the train station next to the new place (all bright eyed and bushy tailed, with flowers in their hands). The girls are more than punctual but, to their great disappointment, nobody greets them. Turns out the guys are stuck in traffic but will arrive soon. So the girls choose a beer garden (no beer, just chai and Turkish coffee) and smoke a hookah while waiting.

Only two arrive: Yusuf (the married one) and Yusuf (the young one). But they both are like fountains: spraying promises and offers all over the place and recycling their promises for new opportunities to use them. They keep hinting on the next time and when we come to Vienna although the girls delicately ignore their proposals. They do, however agree on playing Okey – the Turkish variation of Rummy and while doing that, the birthday girl gets a new cake (this time not out of a wrapping paper) with a burning candle in the middle. The gesture, the company and the game exceed by far any expectation of the evening and, when the Yusufs offer to take the girls at the hotel by car and actually try parking in front of the girls’ place, it is definite that the Yusufs have wormed their way into the girls’ hearts. No uttered I love you-s, no will you marry me-s, only plain, simple chivalry.