Turkey – a travel journal – Day 7
A new wave of guests arrive at the hotel – Turks – the Russians leave. The security guard tells Moustafa glad you are taking these ladies away with a smile when he comes to pick us up in the white BMW – the Turkish music blaring – we have been causing trouble here and there – just fun trouble. We fly back to Istanbul, which I miss more than anything, and first stop is to get our figs. When we wake from a nap, the boys call and say they miss us and they want to come to Istanbul and Fatma laughs and says, no we just got rid of you, and so head out to meet Ferah at a kebob house where a man is a one man show sitting behind a copper trough making kebobs and making us laugh. We head to a new club and tonight it is Israeli night – the international photographer, who takes my camera and takes my photo – he’s there for the Formula racing – he tells us Israel is a small country with big problems – I tell them I am Sepharadic and Emerz says, ah, the black Jews, and I say, indeed.