Before my retirement from Duke University, an international graduate student warned me about going to Turkey. He was from there and had concerns. Then, three weeks after my retirement, I arrived in Yerevan, Armenia. This would be my second time with the Peace Corps. And just like my service in Kenya, 1986/88, I would be a TEFL volunteer. On a pre-service training field trip, we visited the Armenian Genocide Memorial Complex.

The 1914-1919 campaign of deporting and killing of Armenians by the Ottoman Empire, (the forerunner of modern-day Turkey), is considered a genocide in Armenia. Turkey never punished those involved and has never recognized the killings as a genocide. After visiting a memorial, honoring 1.2 million people, it’s hard to not take a side. Shortly after my close of Peace Corps service, in 2019, both US houses of Congress finally recognized the Armenian Genocide. Then, President Trump rejected the congressional vote.

My visit to Turkey was never going to be a traditional tourist experience. First off, I arrived tired. Perhaps two back-to-back Northern European cruises, followed by a Transatlantic cruise, landing in Miami, flying back to London, taking the Eurostar to France, then traveling by local trains to Germany, Poland, the Czech Republic and Hungary, plus a bus ride through Slovenia to Italy, for a Mediterranean cruise, wasn’t my most brilliant plan.

By the time I arrived in Turkey, I was so exhausted that I was no longer thinking straight. I arrived in the Asian side of Istanbul, thinking I was arriving on the European side. The error was only discovered when my airport hotel messaged me and asked if I wanted to book their $100.00 transfer service. Being a three-time Peace Corps volunteer, (after also serving in Ethiopia following Armenia), I said no. Plus, I had already seen a few YouTube videos about the “cheap as chips” bus service, taking passengers between the two airports. After arriving at the airport, on the European side, I took an Uber to the hotel.

The ride to my hotel, in Arnavutköy (meaning “Albanian village” in Turkish), reminded me of my old Peace Corps hub sites. As a volunteer, community integration is a big part of your service. I have this down to a science. In Arnavutköy, I started by walking to a nearby shop and purchasing a couple of bottles of soda, always Coca-Cola, announcing my presence to the community. Next, I planned on walking through the center of the village, looking for food and being seen. But, two blocks from the grocery store, I spotted the “Black and White” Cafe.

I took a picture of the sign, then went inside. The owner was sitting with some locals and immediately got up to greet me. I told him that I saw the sign and just had to come in. He understood and replied, “Black is good!” I was seated and ordered from the small menu. While waiting for my lunch to be served, a police car arrived. Both men were in plain clothes. Once parked, they entered the cafe. They made eye contact with me and then greeted the owner. The owner walked to the back of the shop and then appeared with a hot tea. As he placed the beverage on my table, he repeated, “No money!” The gift, from whoever, was delicious.

The next day, the cafe was closed. So, I walked further into town. Halfway up the road, there was a young girl, seated in a field, with her mother. When she saw me, she popped up and began waving. I waved back! We continued doing this, until I was out of her sight. I kept walking up the road, then stopped at the first restaurant I saw. I went inside, was handed a menu, and placed a take-away order. A local man walking by saw me. He entered, gave me a fist pump, and left. I received and paid for my order and began walking back to the hotel. As soon as the little girl saw me crossing the road, she stood up again, and we began waving.

I saw nothing in Istanbul, outside of that one small village. And, I’m OK with that. Five years after being evacuated from Ethiopia, during the COVID-19 pandemic, being back in a Peace Corps like hub town felt great. In Ethiopia, I would leave my site on Friday, after my classes were done. I would catch a van to Debre Birhan, a town 120 kilometers northeast of Addis Ababa. Once there, I would check the post office for packages, go to the bank, and then head to a hotel for a much-needed hot shower. The short time away from my site was very restful.

I left Istanbul the way I arrived, by booking the wrong airport. My flight to Armenia departed from the Asian side of Istanbul. The driver of my $100.00 UBER stopped at a row of taxis as we were exiting the village. He wanted to brag about getting the fare. Before arriving at the airport, he asked if he could stop for a coffee. I said yes. The ride was long. Plus, he still had to drive all the way back. He purchased coffee and snack cakes for the two of us, at a rode side gas station.

There’s something about integrating yourself into a community. I’ll take my memories of Arnavutköy over touristy Istanbul and Turkish Delight. XOXO—GGT