IST arrival part 2

i get out of passport control and emerge in the main hall. while i was waiting in the passport line, i had been called to the information desk. my hotel had arranged for a ride from the airport to the hotel, and someone was supposed to be waiting for me with a sign that said "MR. MANGAT." i can't believe my dad is such a follower that he couldn't even arrange his own, original vacation. but whatever! so i hustle to information (not tourist information, where i went first by mistake) to say that i had been paged. ok, p.s., i love walking out of the baggage area of the airport knowing that someone was carrying a sign with my name on it, like i'm a VIP or something. the information desk calls the driver over. we hug. seriously. the guy hugs me. maybe he was trying to cop a feel. maybe he was just delighted to learn that i hadn't been abducted and brutally attacked on his watch. i like to think it's the latter.

we are waiting for another couple who are heading to the same area for their hotel. they are a lovely portugese woman and her irish husband, who lives in lisbon and has fallen in love with it. i love how inter-state europe is. people from one country move and live in another, fall in love with the place or with a local and stay forever. it's my notion of romance and love of border fluidity brought together. while we are waiting for the couple to get out of the baggage area, i spot two familiar things. an ATM for citibank, my bank. and starbucks. i tell my driver-friend [p.s. EVERYONE in istanbul is my FRIEND. i feel like norm on cheers] that i'm going to head over to Citibank so that, for the first time on this trip, i will not be paying an additional $2.30 to take out my very own money from my very own account.

we drive (like madness) to the sultanahmet area, where the touristy hotels and hostels are. i wish i had known that i could have stayed in G's area, beyoglu, which is where turkish people actually hang out. the sultanahmet area is where the blue mosque and haiga sofia are, but also where 10,000 australians and germans are. but lesson learned. next time i'm in istanbul, i will stay in beyoglu.

i check in, take a shower. i had arranged to meet G at my hotel that evening. post-shower, i get a call from the front-desk saying that my friends were waiting for me. i go down to meet G and his travel friend, S (he met S on his other travels in turkey.) S is a lovely korean woman, who has friends from turkey (friends who are going to university in korea). friends we will meet up with later. anyway, not only do i greet G and S, but i mistakenly think the front desk guy (who i had just met not an hour ago) is one of their friends. after introducing myself and shaking his hand (quelle embarrassment), i ask G quietly if this other guy is part of our group. G says no, he's the front desk guy, you fool. we head out from the hotel. i now vow to greet him everyday as though it's the first time we're meeting.

before signing off this post, a word about my room at the hotel. it has (!!!!!!!) a four-poster bed. i have always wanted one. i am delighted. the room is nice and quite spacious. it has a very nice hard-wood floor & wardrobe. the mattress leave much to be desired though. as i'm sure i will mention several times on this blog, the mattress feels like sleeping on hangers, with the pokey-outtie side all randomly dispersed, so you can't even predict where it might jab you in the solar plexus. but anyway. i don't care because i am in love with the four-poster-ness of the bed. being a neat freak, i carefully inspect the bathroom. it's clean. nice. big enough shower (by european standards). i am overall pleased as punch.