Day One...

My first day in the city was an eye-opening one. The apartment I live in is in one of the boroughs of a city of close to 16 million people. (I am no mathematician, but if my calculations are correct I think that is slightly bigger than the small Arkansas town I grew up in (I could be wrong though, somebody can double check me on that math (and also check the recent censuses of Glenwood (I have not been there in some time and it could have grown.))))
I woke up in my apartment still jet-lagged and decided that I was going to hang around the place that day instead of going out with my other roommates. I told them that I might do some exploring around the neighborhood and possibly visit an ATM. My roommate gave me a solemn warning not to get lost and explained to me the perils that the confusing infrastructure of this place provided. (Turkish fact number one: Did you know that over here entire city blocks spontaneously rise out of the earth and replant themselves in other sections of town of their own volition?) He pointed out on a map for me where the nearest ‘safe’ ATM was from our apartment (Turkish fact number two: Some ATMs are not safe to use because they will steal your identity and take all your money… and then beat you up) and then gave me his cell phone number (I did not have a phone) and wrote out a phrase in Turkish that I could show people if I got lost and they could help me find my way back (I am reminded of a collar we put on our dog if she ever got lost.)
Shortly after they left I bundled up, wrote out a last will and testament and headed out the door, clutching the piece of paper my roommate had given me as if my life depended on it, because it surely did. I walked down the street away from the safety of our apartment making meticulous notes of every step that I took so that I could make a hasty retreat if I saw a gang of ‘unsafe’ Turkish ATMs roaming the streets.
I followed the route to the bank trying to my best to blend in and act like I knew what I was doing (I am sure that my red-headed 6’4 self did not stand out at all). After some time of walking and giving a wide berth to anyone I came in contact with knowing that if I made a wrong move one of them would hit me with their sword (Turkish fact number three: All Turks carry scimitars, and I believe in some parts of the city they still fly around on magic carpets (I think recent city-zoning regulations have restricted carpet flights across the entire city however)) I made it to the corner where the bank was. I turned around to make sure my bread-crumb trail to the apartment was still intact and then did my best Frogger impersonation (for a visual representation watch the Seinfeld episode in which George tries to cross the street with his newly purchased Frogger arcade game) as I crossed the busy street to the ATM. I made it to the ATM inserted my card and selected ‘English’ I entered my pin and waited eagerly to be rewarded with a handful of Turkish Lira so that I could buy some lunch. The screen flashed “Sorry I am unable to complete your request….”

Will Chris be able to eat a delicious Turkish lunch?! Will he be able to find his way back to the apartment?! Do ATMs really roam around in gangs?!

Find out on the next exciting installment of my blog…