Instanbul? 60+ Degree Sunny Weather? Turkish Baths? Ok!

Ah Istanbul! Beautiful mosques, The Grand Bazaar, Turkish baths, 63+ degree weather…..it was amazing! Ha, not! It would have been amazing had I actually made it there. Alas, fate intervened….or that’s what I’m going to say at least. Everything happens for a reason, right?

So Friday after class, I was supposed to leave. The day started out terrible. It was cold. It was rainy. It was just a miserable day. None of that mattered though; I was going to a beautiful city with warmer weather and sunny skies. I couldn’t wait! The first thing I was going to do is have a Turkish bath and a massage. I’ve needed this (the massage not the bath :-P) for a while, but didn’t want to pay the money in London. Turns out the American dollar goes much further in Turkey so I was going to have a much deserved spa day.

I arrived to class hoping it would be another day that we got out early. It usually happened, so I wasn’t reaching for the stars on this one. Unfortunately, my class was extremely interesting and productive with a guest lecturer and time to work on our group projects. And, of course, my group had to continue sucking. I was handed our group midterm back with a B grade. What? That is NOT allowed. I’ve worked extremely hard for my 4.0 GPA and I’m not going to let it slip because the people in my group don’t feel motivated enough to contribute. Screw that!

So I was forced to take charge. I was furious. I told the guy that has only been to two classes this semester to redo the crap survey he handed in for the midterm and where was his annotated research? First we have a girl in my group drop the class after missing the first four meetings then arriving to one. Now I have this guy who just doesn’t show up, eventually does the work I ask, but gives me rubbish. Finally, I have a girl who is trying to help, but her job keeps her travelling around, she also misses class and rushes through work. We only meet once a week. Is it so hard to ask that people show up? Ugh, so it’s up to me. At least she redid his annotated research and took an assignment home. We will see if I have to redo that as well. So far, I’ve redone everything.

After this crappy class that left me with a mountain of work to do this week, I left for the airport. I had two hours, plenty of time since I was told by the travel agency to arrive at the latest thirty minutes prior to take-off.  So I hop on a train and head to Gatwick Airport. My day was improving immensely. After all, I would be lounging in a Turkish bath soon. I just needed to forget about class for the weekend and deal with it on Monday. The rain and grey skies weren’t even bothering me. 

I arrived at the airport and ran around looking for the check-in counter. I had arrived 45 minutes before take-off and was hoping to grab a burger before I left so I was rushing. I noted that it was eerily quiet for an airport on a Friday, but whatever. I’d soon be airborne and off to a nice little vacation from my vacation.

I saw a counter that proudly proclaimed ‘Turkish Airways.’ This is going to sound a little ridiculous, but I didn’t expect the Turkish Airways little area to look so nice. I don’t know, I guess I was expecting something a little more third world. Really that doesn’t make any sense as Turkey is not a third world country, and I was going to a thriving metropolis not a little tribal village or something. 

Anyway, I approached the counter where a bald man, probably in his thirties, was sitting. He was helping a very unhappy woman with a baby pram. She seemed devastated and near tears. I approached the counter and when he looked at me I asked him if this was where I would check in for the next flight to Istanbul.

                “You missed it.” He said in a disinterested tone as he looked back as the computer screen. I froze. I don’t quite believe him. He had to be joking.

                “I’m sorry, what?” 

                “You missed it.”

                “Seriously?”

                “Yep.” Oh my God. I cannot believe I missed it. How did this happen? I arrived on time. I’m actually early. There’s no way I missed it. He had to let me on that plane. I expressed all of this to him. He just explained that I was 15 minutes late for last call. How can that be if I only needed to be at the airport 30 minutes before departure? I told him that my travel agency informed me of the times I needed to be here. He stopped typing, suddenly interested in what I was saying. 

                He informed me that the absolute latest time I could have arrived was one hour before take-off and even then it would have been almost impossible to make it through security in time. He asked for all the information of my travel agency. He was rather offended that the agency was giving out false information. He said that the woman he was currently helping was in the exact position we were and she had arrived only five minutes pass the cut-off time. 

                My travel companion called up the agency to more or less chew them out and see what they could do for us. The Turkish Airways employee actually took her phone and told them off for giving us incorrect information. (It was actually pretty entertaining looking back on it. At the time, I was too upset to notice.) Of course, the travel agency said they didn’t know what happened and assured us that we were given the correct time. Regardless of what happened, I had missed my flight. Now what?

                The employee offered to put us on the next flight out which was leaving after 10:00pm that night. It would seriously cut into our time in Turkey, but I didn’t want to miss out. I was so looking forward to this weekend. So he looked up the prices, £179 to reschedule. That’s more than what I paid for the flights to and from Istanbul the first time! But they only had one available and I was traveling with someone. So the woman with the pram purchased it. We asked for the next class up….over £400. Um yeah, not going to happen, do the conversion. It’s not pretty.

                Another option? Buy a ticket through British Airways for £195 one-way and hope Turkish Airways doesn’t cancel our return flight. Apparently, if you book an out flight as well as a return flight and you miss the outbound flight, they just assume you won’t need the return flight and cancel it. Now, there was a possibility that the return flight would be overlooked and not cancelled as we never officially cancelled the outbound flight. So, spend the money and take the chance that I might need to buy another ticket back at probably an inflated last minute fee? No to that one as well.

               

                Last option (ignoring that I could have forgotten the whole thing, taken the loss and moved on), was to reschedule and pay a cancellation fee. That fee was significantly cheaper than anything else we could have done. We lost out on the money spent on the hotel, but we can book a cheap one on hostelworld.com. The bright side? We now get to spend four nights in Istanbul. I tried to remember this as they swiped my card, but all I could think of was how expensive this was turning out to be. And Istanbul was supposed to be a cheap place to go!

                So, not wanting to waste the fact that I was packed and ready to go somewhere, I grabbed some dinner and hopped on the train to Cambridge. I was originally going on a trip there with my school, but I had to reschedule my flight for that day. So, off I went. It was only an hour train ride, but I was so upset. This day had turned out to me a nightmare. First class, then the flight and now a crowded train ride spent standing as there were no seats left. It was hard to be positive, but I tried…..and failed.

                Luckily, it was really easy to find nice and cheap accommodation in Cambridge. Not the best place I’ve ever stayed, but it wasn’t too bad. At least we had our own bathroom, free WIFI and breakfast in the mornings. It wasn’t until I got to my room that I realized I had packed for much nicer weather. It was still raining and the temperature had plummeted. I had only packed short sleeved shirts and a cotton jacket which most definitely is not waterproof. It was close to 11:00pm and I spent my night wandering through Cambridge in the cold rain looking for a place to eat. After dinner, I passed out.

                Saturday dawned bright and dry. I hoped it would stay that way. As it was with my luck this weekend, it was not to be. Wearing only a t-shirt under my purple cotton jacket, I ventured out into Cambridge and a lovely sudden downpour. At least I had a hood. The morning was spent wandering around getting soaked. I explored some nice cathedrals and found a really cute market, but the thought of getting warm overcame the excitement of anything I saw. Not to mention I had to change all of my Turkish Lira back into pounds which made me loose a little bit of money. I was really stressing about the cost of things after that. However, I had decided to buy a hoodie if I could find a cheap one. It wasn’t fun shivering all day and losing feeling in my fingers. 

                Instead of making this a priority however, I was talked into joining a walking tour. Normally, I’m all for this, but I really had no interest in Cambridge. I tried really hard to, but really my mood had turned sour and nothing seemed to be able to lift it. After some negotiation, I agreed to the walking tour. It did include the cost of entering nine separate collages, so the £10 was worth it. So I decided to try and find a hoodie within the 45 minutes before the tour began. 

                Instead of locating this much desired article of clothing, we discovered a souvenir shop and spent the time in there warming up. There were hoodies for sale, but after the money I had to spend to reschedule the flight and also what I will have to spend for accommodation in Turkey, I didn’t feel up to spending £30-£40 on a hoodie that I didn’t really even want. So I went on the walking tour and, of course, froze the whole time. Oddly enough, we only went into one college and it was one with free admission. What happened to the eight others we were supposed to enter? This thought didn’t penetrate my frozen brain until much later, but in the end it turns out we got scammed. A local tourist agency confirmed this fact and took down the information of the tour company for further investigation. That was lesson number two I learned this weekend. At least the tour guide was cute.

                On the way to a local art museum, I finally found a hoodie. It was on sale for £12.50 and a horrendous shade of green, but I didn’t care. I was finally able to be a little warmer and dryer than I had been before. My mood started to improve. 

                The museum was nice and the lovely Italian food we had later was delicious, but my ultimate conclusion of Cambridge is that it is an extremely boring city. After you’ve seen the colleges, markets and churches there really isn’t anything else to do. Normally, I’m ok with this kind of atmosphere, but this was unusual. Even Kilkenny had more going on during the day and night than Cambridge. In the end, I went to the hotel early and spent the rest of the night watching movies. 147 Hours….gruesome.

                During our walks throughout town, I stumbled upon a beautiful Baptist church. It is really hard to find Baptist churches around where I am staying in London so I decided to attend service on Sunday. It was perfect timing to as it was a communion day. I won’t be able to take communion on Easter this year as I will be having mass with the Pope and they won’t let me. Silly Catholics, hogging all the wine for themselves J. It was a beautiful service, though I only recognized one song. It was a bit longer than I am used to, but the people were extremely welcoming. If I ever lived in Cambridge, I would join that church. I really enjoyed myself.

                After church, there was no rain and about thirty minutes of actual sunlight! My mood was greatly improved. I again walked a bit more, looked at some amazing artworks at the market, decided not to go punting and then stumbled upon a candy shop that sold A&W Root beer and, wait for it, Vanilla Coke! It was in a cooler labelled, “American Confectionery Pop.” I didn’t care how much it cost; I bought a can of both as well as some chocolate covered ginger to try. I was so happy, but so ready to head home. Cambridge gave me all it had to offer, it was definitely time to leave. Besides, I wanted to make it to London in time for the St. Patrick’s Day festival in Trafalgar Square. I don’t like this holiday, it usually leads to me getting pinched and my hand hurting from punching them back….in the arm, people, I’m not that crazy.

                I had a bit of good luck as by the time I made it to the train station, there was already a train waiting to depart in five minutes to London. Thank God! It was raining again and bitterly cold. I just wanted to go home and take a hot shower before heading to the festival. 

                After being home for a bit, I decided I would stay there until Tom talked me into going to the festival. After, when would I have this chance again? I got excited for it and dressed. Just in case, I decided to check the time it would end so I went to their website. It turns out that bad luck wasn’t finished with me yet. The festival was over. It had just ended. So I spent the rest of the night in a funk, though I tried hard to pretend not to be. Looking back, I can see this as a glimmer of good luck because it saved me a disappointing journey through the rain and cold to a festival that had ended.

                I spent Monday still in a foul mood. I’ll tell you, having a terrible weekend really does affect your mood for the work week. What a bummer! I decide to spend my night doing laundry and watching movies alone. I really wanted some quiet time. Little did I know, my horrid luck hadn’t finished with me quite yet.  

Now for the most interesting thing that happened to me…..

                While I was doing laundry, a man possibly in his thirties with a dark complexion, curly hair and a heavy possibly Italian accent approached me while eating a microwave meal. He was dressed in suit pants, a white button up shirt and a suit vest. He just started talking to me. He introduced himself as Carlo, said he was an artist, and wondered if he could do some laundry. In that order.

                I was taken off guard by this. I asked him if he was staying with someone. He said, “Yeah, with a person down the hall.” 

“Who?” I asked.

“You know, that person, over there.”

“Oh, ok.” It became apparent he wasn’t staying with anyone. So why was he in my locked building at night?

                He started to elaborate on the artist thing and asked me what I was studying. He said he had an exhibit coming up at “that local museum” and that he wanted someone to view his art and design advertising for it. I told him “Congratulations.” and continued doing my laundry. He then started explaining that his art combines painting and music and sex. Then he asked a most interesting question.

                “How do you feel about the art of making love? It’s a masterpiece! And making babies?” I had no idea what to say. Did he really just say that? What a perv.

                “Dude, if that’s a pickup line you should know I have a boyfriend.”

                “Oh really, but he hasn’t proposed yet? Where is he?”

                “Home.”

                “Are you sure he’s not cheating on you? Are you absolutely sure? A guy? Alone? With no supervision? Because you know,” At this point he gestures to himself then to me. “We could fix that. Because, wow, your body is like a work of art. It’s a masterpiece.”

                “Ok, stop, you’re not getting anywhere with that. I’m busy, so would you just leave.”

                “Ok, ok. I can respect that you have a boyfriend. But how about you come with me to look at some of my art? You can design the advertisements.”

                “I don’t think so. I’m in the middle of laundry and dinner.”

                “Well how about after dinner? Or we could have dinner?”

                “I said no.”

                “Ok, well how about tomorrow.”

                “I work.”

                “Ok, well let me put the ball in your court.” He grabs my hand and I try to pull away but he won’t let go. “I’m going to give you my email address; you email me when you’re available.” And he told me his email and wouldn’t let go until I repeated it back. He then left. I felt so dirty. Ugh. I waited a few minutes before leaving. I got that ‘panty-stealer’ vibe from him and didn’t want him rummaging through my clothes. 

                When I felt it was safe, I ran to the elevator and to my room. I told my roommate and her friends what had happened. They thought he was the same guy who was in the tube trying to give them sweets and making inappropriate comments. I wasn’t going to say anything, but after hearing their account I went straight to the RD’s room and reported the incident. 

An hour and a half later, they did a full sweep of the building and found him hiding in the lobby bathroom. It turns out this was the same guy who they found sleeping on the fourth floor a few weeks ago. The doors are locked and can only be accessed with a key card. However, the back door doesn’t always get shut. I’m betting he is coming in that way. They had to call the police this time as he became very aggressive. I feel like I escaped a potentially dangerous situation. I was very lucky indeed. I spent the rest of the night feeling creeped out because he kept trying to get me to leave with him and touched my hand. Ugh. Gross. Best part is, after an emergency dorm meeting to explain what happened and emphasize the importance on not letting people in and getting all of the doors shut, I found the back door open again. Just great! People won’t learn until something serious happens.

So, I spent Tuesday and the beginning of today in just as sour of a mood. I’ve spent the past two days working hard on my group project, trying to fix all of the problems. I worked on my individual project and got good reviews on it by my professor. This lifted my spirits a bit. It wasn’t until one thing that made me feel a bit better….a muffin. I was so happy to find an amazingly delicious honey and oat muffin that nothing could wipe the smile off of my face while I ate it. What can I say, I love food! J

 

This weekend was just unpleasant to say the least, but I like to think that everything happens for a reason. Even if I don’t like what happened. It proved true in this case. Not too long after arriving in Cambridge, I received an email from the U.S. Embassy in Istanbul alerting me to a heightened state of alert in Turkey’s capital. Apparently, a huge celebration was due to take place that weekend that brings thousands of people to the city. This celebration has been known to break out into violence and riots. The police had already heightened security in the area that we were supposed to be staying.  So, realistically, it probably was for the best. 

Overall lesson, you live, you learn, and I attract creepers.

Hopefully, my week will improve and I’ll have a wonderful weekend. I just need some sleep, a good dinner and to call some people back home. That will fix me right up! 

Cheers!