Read This When You Get Back

Here’s the deal: I’m off to Istanbul in about twenty minutes. That means I have about four minutes to write this post. But I am going to write this so that I can remember how I was feeling before I left. I feel crazy right now, but wonders await me in Istanbul.

I didn’t mean to be in such a chaotic state this morning. But really and truly it is not all my fault. A few days before Christmas my husband remarked that he had been invited to teach a class in Istanbul in February. I immediately informed him that yes, he did want to accept this offer. He took my advice and accepted. For weeks he emailed through a third party in the United States to whomever made arrangements in Istanbul. Eventually  course dates were arranged, but until we knew dates, I could not start my own planning process.

So finally we had dates and a location: Hilton in Istanbul on the European side. I immediately communicated this to my daughter who had recently returned from Istanbul. We looked up the hotel, and I began to orient myself to the locale. Then my husband came home and said that was not the right hotel. It would be at the Doubletree, on the Asian side. I looked up THAT hotel, and began to learn how to get around on that side.

We did not get to make our own airline reservations, which was a little off putting because at first the reservation maker had us changing planes three times. Sigh. I asked my husband if he thought I should even go because it seemed so hard to make the plans. He informed me, as I had him, that yes, I did want to go.

So. Late in January we finally had tickets, which meant I could go ahead and read books about Turkey and try to learn a few words. Every chance I got I was reading about how to get to the Museum of Innocence, the Florence Nightingale Museum, and the more typical “must sees” such as Topkapi Palace and the Aya Sofya. I was starting to feel a little confident about tackling a visit to this magnificent city.

Then my husband came home one night and said, “We’re not staying at the Doubletree; we’re staying at the Parkhouse Hotel.” And so I scratched the Doubletree and began to google the Parkhouse and its environs so that I could navigate the area.

About five days ago my husband began to cough and cough and cough. I suggested he head to the Doctor. He declined. He coughed. I suggested. He declined. He coughed. And yesterday he went to the Doctor. He sounds a little bit less like a recent escapee from a tuberculosis sanitorium, for which I am glad , because he will have to speak  for two days straight at the class he is teaching.

I’ve continued to try to learn words and make plans right up to the wire. I didn’t sleep well last night because my poor little patient tossed and turned. I woke later than I wanted to, and I was mighty cranky. Finally I went and showered. As I combed my wet hair my husband stepped in the bathroom and announced, “Oh. I got an email that they changed  our hotel reservations back to the Doubletree.” And that’s when I started laughing like a hyena.

Whatever! We’re going to Istanbul and we’ll stay SOMEWHERE. My husband will be able to speak or he won’t. I can always come to his class and read the stuff out loud for him, though I don’t know what any of it means. I’ll refer to my carefully loaded Istanbul Eats apps, and learn from my Turkish language book on Kindle. I’ll take photos, and eat good food.  I’ll view as many fabulous sites as I can, and drink in the beauty of the city skyline. The adventures to come will outweigh the craziness of right now. I just know it.