Some years ago (maybe 2013?) I (Laurel here!) was in Turkey with one of my best travel companions ever, whom I’ll call Jen, for a lot of reasons. Primary among them being that’s her name. As a good classicist, I’d been to Turkey and seen many of the things my people go see: there’s even evidence: a picture from 1993 of me and some people from my study abroad semester, posed near the wooden horse at Troy, which there might still be a copy of in one of the boxes at my sister’s house. (There’s no way I would have thrown that away!)
Jen wanted to go to Turkey; I was happy to return. We tacked on a trip to Georgia and then I went to Armenia. (Jen had a real job, more’s the pity.) In any case, we spent some time in Göreme, where we did not go on a hot air balloon ride or do that creepy thing where fish chew on your dead foot skin. We did, however, go look at the caves and did some hiking. It was excellent and I would recommend it, unless you get claustrophobic.
But this isn’t about the caves. Nor even, except accidentally, about kebab. It’s about the fact that while in Cappadocia we happened upon a restaurant called ‘World of Kebab’. With a name like that, we were obviously going to try it! Google does not confirm whether this place still exists, but it doesn’t matter because I remember nothing about the food and would probably not be able to find it again anyway. I’m not even sure what town we slept in that night. But everywhere in Turkey we ate copiously and well, so I’m sure this was no exception.
We got there at around dinnertime, but there were not many people around. And – this is only one of the things that makes Jen an excellent partner in crime – I also remember that we lingered for hours over our meal, lounging on the cushions and ordering meze after meze. Even, I have no doubt, the eponymous kebab.
So long did we linger that we were soon the only people in the restaurant. And so the owner, whose name I also do not remember, came by to chat with us. He was friendly, as most people are in Turkey, and eager to speak English. This would be the end of the story except that we noticed a guitar off in the corner. Like the friendly types we are, we asked our new friend if he played. And then, all of a sudden, we were in a situation which we have both experienced far too many times to have fallen into it again. But there we were.
As you may know, when you are stuck with a musician who wants to play for you, you have few options. We’d eaten far too much to make a run for it. I considered flopping over and playing dead, but chances are he’d have kept playing anyway. By the end of the night, we were all the best of friends. There’s evidence of this too – a picture of us holding a drum and a guitar and looking for all the world like we too were in the band.
The reason I recount this story, even though I can’t remember most of the details, is that it remains one of my favourite travel memories ever: me and my friend Jen, bellies distended with kebab, having a great time with a total stranger, far from home. In a way that was simultaneously very familiar, and completely foreign. To me, that’s what makes travel unlike anything else: you really never know what might happen.
We’d love to hear some of your best travel memories!
