in turkish he asked me for the time. when i showed him my watch (for not speaking turkish) he said, "english?" and so we got to talking, although, seriously, like, i do not need more clutter in my life, but whatever.
he told me i look turkish and he thought i was turkish. he had an umbrella and he held it over me as well as himself.
he told me one day he wants to come to canada. he would walk with me up the street. told me his name was kennel.
and did i want to get a drink, his treat. "you ever try turkish beer? efes?"
i had not. i didn't really want one. i was cold from the rain and wet. but he said, it will be quick, and his treat, for he was going to see a soccer game. did i know such and such a player. i did not. in canada it's all hockey. whatever. not that i even like hockey although i said i don't mind it. he had ugly teeth, that is what i noticed about him, and he spoke english poorly.
"will you show me where to get some yoghourt?" i said.
"sank-you," he answered.
i could have corrected him politely but i did not. he kept saying sank-you to everything. LEARN TO SPEAK THE LANGUAGE OF THE CONQUERING TRIBE, WHELP. off we went.
yoghourt was a dollar and some, from an honest-feeling little shop that also sold cheese, fruit, nuts, milk, and so on. i planned to come back because you can do a lot of inexpensive eating with yoghourt when you are in a hostel, and it was close to where i was staying.
he insisted that i come for a drink with him.
so there is this little voice in my head that i am trying to learn to listen to. my brother also had told me about a standard scam in istanbul, and my travel guide warned about it too. it starts with someone inviting you for a drink with them. i knew this. off we went.
in the bar, techno, and there was a picture of the new york skyline including the twin towers. we sat in a booth with a little dish of peanuts. there were two bored-looking girls standing on the dancefloor dancing badly. seriously badly. the guy started smoking. he ordered two beers for us.
"it's nice place, yes?"
"not bad." it sucked.
they brought our drinks.
the girls came over and sat down.
"can we sit here?"
the waiter brought their drinks, glass bottles with gold foil wrap in a bucket under the table. the little voice.
if these girls were prostitutes, i would have paid, perhaps fifty cents for the services that followed. where am i from. what do you do there. is it cold where you come from. how long is the flight. the titillation.
one was named layla. i told her there was a song about a layla. at least i did not start singing it.
they finished their drinks. layla said, "can i have another." kennel said yes. the one next to me asked if she could too. kennel said he was paying. the little voice again, intuition. but what did i care if he was paying?
a big man in a black suit brought a menu and said, "because it may be too expensive for you." kennel looked at it, pushed it my way, i did not know what i was looking at really, he took it and handed it back to our acne'd waiter who was also quick to light kennel's cigarette.
the waiter brought two more bottles and fired the corks into the corner: champagne. unease.
kennel put on his coat. layla: "you are not leaving?"
"no, i am just cold."
i suppose that was the signal for the waiter to bring the bill. kennel looked at it. he put it on the table where i looked at it, twelve hundred dollars.
so this is the scam and i fell for it. this is what intuition sounds like when it says danger. i have learned to listen to intuition in some parts of life but i did not know so much what it sounds like when it says danger. i have never really been in danger before.
"my friend," said kennel, "i do not have this kind of money and my credit card has a limit of six hundred, so we are going to have to share this."
i told him i was not paying. i knew the scam. i knew i was being scammed, now. i did not connect then that he would have beeen working for them too. but either way he could deal with it, i was leaving.
the waiter told me no, i was not.
kennel was my friend, of course. "please, my brother, we go talk to the manager." so we went in to speak to the manager in the little room, the one who'd brought the menu, a guy twice my size in a black suit and black shirt and black tie, a little room done up in red. the waiter came too and closed the door. (don't go into the little room.)
"what seems to be the problem?" said the 'manager' as if he didn't know.
stress hormones keep me from remembering the exact dialogue but the way the scam goes is that in the end you either pay the bill cash, or credit card, or they persuade you to let them take you to and from a bank machine. the waiter stood scrunched-up looking between me and the door. he looked down. he looked like the dog that would lose in a fight and knew he would lose if he had to fight.
so what do you do. they wanted money from me. i told him to talk to the girls (they were still outside in their own booth). the manager said those girls worked for him and it was their job to sit with customers and drink. and he had even brought us the menu. i told him kennel said he was paying, he should talk to kennel. the manager said i was paying. i said i had one drink, all i would pay for was one drink. he said his line, i said mine until finally he shouted "FUCK the one drink."
i told them i was not paying. i was scared but not too scared. i knew that if i showed i was scared i would be done for. i told them i was leaving. i got up to go.
the waiter, looking up, pushed me back down.
the manager started using words like "or i'm gonna take it by force." up to what point do you bluff? kennel said, "no, no, please, we" -- we -- "don't want any trouble." i told kennel i was not paying. "no," he said, "you are not paying, we are paying, my credit card limit is seven hundred" -- before it was six hundred -- "we will share it." later his limit would be eight hundred. i was not paying.
the big guy came out from behind his desk, pulled my up by my coat. he was twice my size. i don't think he would have hit me. he told me to take out my wallet. i took out my wallet.
he said, "you have a credit card." i said i was not paying.
he took my fifty dollars and told me i could go. i left fast thinking i was abandoning kennel but later i figured out he was working for them too. the girls were in a booth of their own. i thought about teaching them a new word or two but figured best to leave before someone changed their mind about letting me go. so i left.
angry. it has been a long time since i have been genuinely angry. also angry at myself.
i understand how people get scammed and no one ever hears about it, because i felt ashamed that i'd been played and what's more that i walked right into it. back at the hostel i sat alone. i wrote a postcard to a friend who has picked me up before when i have been down, haven't addressed it though. i thought about why things happen and why this happened to me and why much worse things happen to people. and why worse things happened to a beautiful friend back home.
it could have been much worse. i am ok, fully completely ok.
i called mo and told him what happened. he came to pick me up. he felt bad too. i am going to stay with him at his hotel tonight. he may take me with him where he is going tomorrow which is a tourism trade show.
this was the song in my head after i steadied myself -- the lonesome death of Hattie Caroll:
Hattie Caroll was a maid in the kitchen:
fifty-one years, she gave birth to ten children
who carried the dishes, and took out the garbage
and never once sat at the head of the table
and who just cleared off all of the food from the table
and who didn't much talk to the people at the table
and who emptied the ashtrays on a whole other level --
but you who philosophize disgrace
and criticize all fears
take the rag away from your face
now ain't the time for your tears.
in the world there is such misery and i don't know the half of it. i wonder what they thought after i left. high fives? probably not. probably the guy in the black suit was angry.
just today i was thinking how istanbul is not at all scary and what is there left in the world that can surprise me.
i keep playing this over in my head. i know what i should have done differently. part of me thinks it is my fault. part of me knows that fundamentally it is not. i am trying not to philosophize disgrace.
