Travel Reference
In-Depth Information
I took a bit of the food Anna had kindly laid out for us, and told her, “I guess I'm still
learning what exactly this whole trip means. I started out thinking I knew everything. Now,
it's like the more I learn, the less I actually know.”
She laughed, “I wish I could go with you on the bike.”
“But you can,” I told her, remembering the first day of my journey, when I realized just
how possible the impossible could be. “See, that's the idea. Everyone can do this to some
extent. It's about how we connect, not just where we connect.”
I had begun to realize that leaving home might be the only way the world would ever
make sense to me. It was by seeing how we were all alike that we would finally realize that
no one person was more important than the other. And then maybe I would return with a
different heart. One that understood better how to love.
* * *
Apart from the traffic, Istanbul is a magnificent city. I had made it through the Turkish bor-
der with my visa in place and no unnecessary hassles with the bike, arriving in the colorful
city by early afternoon. I found my way to a local Turkish bazaar and tried to haggle a place
to stay for the night. I was not having much luck. Most of the vendors wanted to sell me
something, not help me, and as one tourist explained, “My husband wouldn't be too happy
if I brought a strange man back to our hotel room.” Well, I could understand that.
Things were not looking good.
But then I bumped into Mehmet. Mehmet wore aviator sunglasses and a black T-shirt,
and seemed like the kind of guy who was always rushing off to an important meeting. After
he heard my story, he nodded his head and quickly pulled out his cell phone. In Turkish, he
had a brief conversation and then hung up. He told me to go to his cousin's house, where I
could stay for the night.
“His name is Nasuh,” he explained. “And I think you both will become quick friends.”
All along this trip, I had asked people to trust me. Trust me for a tank of gas or a place
to eat. Trust me to stay in their house. Trust me to stay with their wives and children. But
I had also learned to trust. Like with Tony in Pittsburgh or finding Filipo's villa in Italy, I
had discovered that the simple act of trust could turn into the foundation of friendship.
I arrived at Nasuh's house and was greeted at the door by an older Turkish man. Nasuh
was a slim, stately gentleman wearing a sports coat and beige trousers. Like his cousin, he
was clearly a businessman. But as I quickly found out, he was much more than that. Nasuh
