Thousand and one coffee cups of Istanbul

My tired tourist legs are complaining, they want to be on a bed, not to hang off from a pink hard wooden chair, but I promised them it is worth it. I take the first sip of Turkish coffee just brought to me by young woman dressed in pink. Crap! It’s sweet. I like my coffee bitter, no sugar, but the lady gave me the one destined for my friend, who has a sweet tooth. I hope that will not have a consequence on the actual purpose of this coffee.

Obviously this is not an ordinary coffee hence I have to be outside my comfort zone when I drink it. We both suffer in our way while drinking it and hope that fortune telling “Turkish style” is worth the pain.

I look at the pink walls around me; they are supposed to give you the feeling of happiness and reassurance. After all that is why the women around me are here. The coffee cup is the clue to glimpsing ones future, you only need to drink the black liquid (that was not prepared according to taste in my and my friends case) and reveal the secrets of future.

My Western mentality expects to see the place full of uneducated lower class old ladies full of superstitions. There is a couple of that sort, is true. But the place is packed, all three floors of it. Sever fortune tellers are working hard to reduce weighting time to under an hour. So, who are all these women who wait holding their coffee cups upside-down?

I look around and I see almost no headscarves. Loose hair women of all ages, well dressed, and some quite sophisticated are discussing about what they expect the fortune teller to see in their coffee cups. Most of them wish that the coffee remains on the cup will reveal a man’s love, marriage, children. Mothers come with their daughters to ensure the boyfriend will marry the girl, friends come to support each other, big groups of friends come for a laugh but secretly hope for good news.

Turkey is not that different than the rest of the world. Definitely not much different than the rest of the EU. People always want to know their future, women always hope for a good man. The only difference with the EU is that western coffee stains less … which makes it difficult for the fortune teller to read the signs.

In the ladies-only coffee shop I feel I am faking it. I am not there because I want to know my fortune, but to look at the people who do.

Above the clouds

I have entered digital age. I am blogging while sitting in the airplane looking at some white fluffy clouds. I have finished my presentation for the next conference and I am enjoying my flight (with my legs against the back of the person in front of me due to lack of flight space).

I gather I am the only technologically advanced person on the flight. Go me! I can be isolated from the rest of the passengers more successfully that before. My bliss lasts until the person in front decides to have a nap and put his sit in the resting position. Then I will either have to accept having the laptop digging into my vulnerable intestines or I will have to start communicating with the fellow passenger.

Disaster!

I always need a mental and physical buffer zone between me and other passengers, especially when the plane is on a flight to Greece. The demographics on the plane vary depending on the time period. Two weeks before Christmas and the end of June students are in season, just before Christmas young Greek professionals populate the plane and all the rest of the time it the average Greek tourist dominates with his presence not only the plane but also the airport. The first thing you notice at this unfortunate period (alas I am going through it now) is the level of noise. Greeks (yes okay and Italians) are much more noisy than other Europeans. Secondly, there are no queues; just a random mob trying to avoid any order. The most striking thing for airport stuff is that all passengers in a flight to Greece happen to have tickets for the seats that are called to board first. Magic I would say.

I can be accused of being against my own people. That would not be entirely wrong. But it would not be entirely correct either. Being away for so long I have developed a very romantic and ideal perception of Greeks and the country. And now wherever I go, wherever I see it Greece hurts me.

Here I admitted it, the great behavioralist and rational choice front line fighter has a romantic soft spot for the homeland.

You can shoot me now!