Ortaköy
So we took a taxi to Ortaköy to walk around the market by the edge of the Bosphorus.
When we got a taxi, Yilmaz was the perfect little gentleman. He treated me like a princess, opening the taxi door for me, gesturing like a fine gentleman that this was our taxi to Ortaköy and that I should climb inside. Yilmaz sat in the front and spoke in Turkish to the driver asking him to take us to Ortaköy. I gave Yilmaz the money to pay for the taxi and let him keep the change. A fine gentleman should have money when he arrives in Ortaköy.
I was looking for souvenirs and through gestures and two languages – I tried to get Yilmaz to buy something in the market stalls. My sign language and babbling in English was understood as his eyes scoured the market tables looking for exactly what he wanted. Well, guess what Yilmaz bought?!?
He bought sunglasses!
Perhaps he bought sunglasses because he always wanted to have sunglasses just like the grownup men who wear sunglasses and look very, very cool. Maybe he wanted sunglasses just to keep the sun out of his eyes. Whatever his reason that he cannot explain to me, he wore them for the rest of the day.
But, the next day, he wasn’t wearing them and I asked him why and he said, through our invisible translator, Mehmet, “It makes everything black”.
After we left Ortaköy, we got a taxi cab and again, Yilmaz opened the door for me, like the grand gentleman that he was. He then walked around to the front of the taxi and sat up in front with the taxi driver, still wearing those sunglasses.
Now this taxi driver was like a cool Turkish or Kurdish version of Benecio del Toro with black shiney hair, rolled up sleeves, that kind of casual american latino, turkish, kurdish blend. Imagine that! They were talking Turkish together, and of course, I didn’t understand a word, but I watched them. I guess this taxi driver had taken it upon himself to teach Yilmaz the different ways one could wear sunglasses, low over the nose if you wanted to observe something in its true colours; on top of the head, again to obtain clarity of vision. And then, you could also tuck them in the left hand pocket of your shirt, or should you be in possession of a car, you could hook them onto the sun visor. The choice was up to you. I think this Turkish Benecio del Toro found it amusing that the young Yilmaz was taking a foreign girl around the city.
We went back to the café in Eminönü to see all the waıters and have tea. Mr. Policeman was there and I yelled over at him, “Hey, I found the boy” and he and his partner came and joined us for tea. Everybody was happy and having a good time. It’s funny sometimes, come to think of it, what a good time people can have together, when they forget language, borders, history, time, and the self. Somehow, they all become one and find membership in humanity.
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