Reasons my trip to Ankara was awesome:

Reason #1:
First and foremost, I got my visa to India! Picking it up was mind-bogglingly simple. Just walk in the door after the now-familiar metal detector massage and get it. The guy didn’t even ask to see the reservation for the flight he told me I had to book to collect the visa.

Reason #2:
I went to a bar (exterior pictured right) with my friend Beth in Ankara that she had never been to. There were about four other women in the place and the rest were men. We sat in a booth towards the back of the room and I had a clear view of the stage.

The live music was very typically Turkish. There was a guy playing some sort of sitar/guitar thing, a guy on an electronic keyboard, and a curvy Turkish woman singing and exchanging friendly banter with the crowd. Below is half of the interior of the place.

A half an hour goes by and I feel a tap on my shoulder — it’s the manager. I look to him and he points at the singer on the stage. She is talking into the microphone, looking right at me, and upon eye contact says in English, “Hello, darling!” I grin and wave. She continues talking in Turkish and I yell out all I know to say which is “Good evening!” in Turkish.

Beth (pictured right) and I go back to our conversation for a while, though I am now a bit distracted by the woman on the stage. She keeps saying things to me, the room laughs, and I just smile and give the standard Shipley thumbs-up and wave.

Eventually, she seems to have forgotten me and several songs go by. Something up-beat and catchy comes on and I hear her yell out, “American!” I look at her as four Turkish men are dancing on the floor in front of her. She enthusiastically gestures for me to get off my ass and come dance. Great.

After 30 seconds of hemming, hawing, thinking about my abysmal white guy rhythm, and feeling reluctant to be the center of attention amongst the 50 or 60 Turkish men in attendance, I hear my dad’s voice in my head saying, “No balls, no air medal, boy,” put on a big smile, and march right up to the stage.

She takes my hand, bows to me, and begins sliding around the stage; swinging her hips, moving her hands and feet, doing that fast boob-shake thing that girls do when they shimmy their shoulders back and forth quickly, looking in to my eyes and being generally sexy. I’m right in front of her, staring back and grinning stupidly as we both take turns imitating what ever kind of dance moves the other comes up with.

Keep in mind, I am not good at this. I am white. I am from an average-sized city in the Midwest. I usually don’t care enough to let that hold me back, though. I look around the room a few times — all eyes are locked on the goofy American and all mouths are either smiling or laughing – especially when she eggs me on in to playing air guitar while I dance.

It’s was awesome. It was funny. I wish I could understand what she was saying to the crowd about me. Every time she spoke in to the microphone, they laughed.

Thanks, sexy Turkish lounge singer. That was fun.

Reason #3:

I got to use my first squat toilet in my life! No spills, nothing on the floor, nothing on my clothes, and I didn’t fall into the gross. It was a big success and an important milestone in my life. First kiss, first car, graduating from college, first job, and first squat toilet:

 

Reason my trip to Ankara was not awesome:

Reason #Only:

It marks the end of my time in Istanbul and leaving Bryan and Hatice; seen here in a picture taken last night on my final night out in Istanbul. Hatice cooked us dinner, then out we went.

Wow. This is the hard part of always moving. It feels harder this time than usual, too. It’s difficult to express how much I’m gonna miss these two without getting more emotional than others would care to read. What an incredible time and what amazing friends. Thanks, you two. A chance-meeting leads to friends for the rest of my life.

Okay. I’m not packed and I have a plane to catch to India. Ha.

Next stop, Mumbai! I’m really excited. Additionally, I have full faith that the Turkish squat toilet will quickly get knocked off it’s throne (so to speak) as my pooping pinacle.

Bring it, India.

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