Vicious cycle in Turkey: maffia and prostitutes

So we did not have a clue we were going to cross the border when leaving Voronezh. Just as little we had any idea that we were coming to Turkey in the coming days. But only through Turkey it seemed to be the way to fulfill our dream – to celebrate the weekend in Tbilisi. We were already one day behind the schedule. It was Saturday morning when our feet touched the cold hard surface, and we were in Turkey.
We had spent the night in a vessel which had not probably seen the cleaners nor the repairment work for years. That left even us in almost the same condition – as if we hadnt seen cleaners or repair work for years. But we did not let such little things to disrupt our mood.

So we stretched out our hands elegantly by the roadside…. and suddenly  dozens and dozens of curious Turkish men gathered around us. They had never in their life heard anything about the phenomenon of this kind of traveling as hitchiking. We knew that this is what only prostitutes would do in Turkey. But what kind of prostitute would work with a large backpack as we did?! We wrote down on a piece of cartong SARP-PAZAR, which apparently became fatal for us. Throughout the following day we were pendeling between these cities. We were plunged into a vicious cycle.

A car with black tinted windows stopped. ON the back seat there was a fat man smoking, Armani jacket resting on his knees. If he finished a cigarette, he lighted up the next one. The car was full of smoke, ash fell down on his pricy jacket. The man kept on explaining something in his funny Turkish language, but we were still suspecting that he was from Turkish mafia. The only thing that we knew to respond was was: Jokk, jokk that should mean in Turkish language No, no. For emergency situations I also knew the term Siktirgit (a kind of disgusting filth), but that was only for emergencies.
And then the man took out a revolver. Berit screamed and hid her face with her hands. Riina didn’t manage to move a thing. I was holding my breath. The old man laughed. He kept his gun as if this was a bottle of beer. Slightly, indifferently.
Then he handed the gun over to the driver, who put it safely into the glove box, under the watchful eye of Riina. And finally explained: Advokat! Advokat!

We managed to get out of this car alive.
The whole day we were moving further along the south shore of the Black Sea. As we did not have a dime of Turkey’s money, then any small snack we were offered seemed a blessing. We drove with two men, one of whom was also named  Terje, which means Sea in Turkish. They did not speak any Russian or English, yet they seemed quite reliable. But the sun sank lower and lower.

The quiet men with sad eyes took us view the sunset. Then they bought us ice cream. Then we drove further to the Georgian border. And then back to the city called Hopa. Then we sat behind a table in an empty restaurant. The food appreared on the table and some glasses with raki. The restaurant slowly filled with people. We did not even notice when the quiet restaurant became crowded. There was a band playing on the stage and a woman with huge breasts moved around the hall singing some Tuskish ballads. In fact, she once used to be a man.
We had some great Turkish food and drank further. Strangely, the banquet hall was full of men and only men. Some extravagantly dressed up women were sitting only at the two corner tables. Suddenly everything was clear to me – we were in the heart of Turkey’s most popular entertainment. We with our sun-burnt faces were the only women here who were not employed in sex industry in this restaurant.

The men picked up their favorite girls, had dinner with them. Later they went down the ground floor for some disco and finished the hot night upstairs in the hotel with an orgasm. You pay for what you get.

The men with sad eyes put us down to one of the hotel rooms and as if that was their duty they were carrying us around the road between SARP-PAZAR even the next day.