Ibrahim and the Bustess

Well let me tell you of Turkish buses! They take forever but they are da way 2 go. Once you've actually found your bus (the hardest bit) you can snuggle into bliss to be supervised by your Bustess - normally a smokey man/men with tight pants, poor English and lots of cake and tea just for you! You get politely woken up at every stop but the nice bustess rewards you with sweets and lemon alcohol for your hands, face and hair just for causing you the trouble. Yummabum

Met a nice man called Ibrahim, a civil engineer, who sat next to me and proceeded to practice his, often hilarious, English until the wee hours of the morning trip. He revealed some interesting insights into Turkish politics in particular perspectives on Israel and US involvement in the region. He also showed me about 50 pictures on his phone of the monument minuatures park he'd spent the day at. He also quoted the population of every town and city we passed with dubious but explicit accuracy. Ibrahim bought me pistachios, showed me the ferries and talked to me about all his favourite films like Braveheart which he's watched 15 times. He told me that Efes was where 'Stink' played. He's written in my book: "In Istanbul friends. Don't forget".

On the way back from Pemmukale, noone on the bus spoke a word of English (and my Turkish is non-existant) so I spent a lot of time pointing and pulling faces. One of the Bustesses got me up prematurely and I almost got off at the wrong stop, luckily the other bustess saved the day. We had the following dialogue: "Asagna" - I show my luggage ticket - "Asagna" - I say 'Istanbul' - "Asagna" - I shrug, so they pat me on the shoulder and take me back to my seat. The bustess then spent the rest of the time smuggling me drinks, smiling at me and showing me pictures of women's backs in magazine. Oh la la.

Doesn't get better than that.