#9 Busses (By Grandpa)

Grandchildren,

On Wednesday, Grandma found a little restaurant online that featured reasonable prices and authentic cuisine. It was in a part of town that requires a bus ride. So at six o’clock, we went to the closest bus stop. A big bunch of people were standing there. A bus came (not our number) and a few people got on and went off to who knows where. We waited. We waited. About 6:35 our bus number came. Completely packed. Not a cubic inch of space was available. Another bus with our number came and we clamored on. It was a long ride to the next bus stop and we thought that we should have gotten off. But we held on to the rails and went to the next stop. We made our way into the small streets of the town and Grandma pulled out a piece of paper with the name of the restaurant and put it in front of a young fellow standing with a bunch of other guys. He didn’t know the place but helpfully walked over to someone who obviously knew the neighborhood because he was selling stuff from a cart. The second fellow pointed to the restaurant which was in the next building. Hooray! We had struck pay dirt. Or so it seemed.

We went in. No AC. The windows were all standing open to let in the moderate breeze. Lesson one. We were shown to a booth of sorts. A styrofoam cup with cigarettes and other goodies stuck in water was leaking onto the table. I pointed to it. The young fellow grabbed a rag of sorts and proceeded to wipe the special water all over the table as if he were cleaning it. Lesson two. Then he brought a menu. We decided what we wanted. The young waiter recommended a dish to be shared by two people. It was not the reasonable price that Grandma had found advertised. But it looked interesting and had a lot of nice items pictured in the menu. So we agreed to order it. Soon another young fellow approached with a couple of moderate sized salads. I thought that for the price we were paying, we each rated a salad. Not so. He set one in front of us and then pulled the other one back and took it to another table. Lesson three. After a fairly long wait, our main course showed up along with the drinks we ordered. They were extra. The main dish was covered by thin shami bread pieces, effectively hiding it. We took off the bread and looked at a collection of grilled meats. The most distinctive characteristic about them was that they were mostly well cooked, so cooked that we had a hard time pulling them off the small sticks that they had been wrapped around and then chewing them. Crunchy, crunchy. We didn’t ask for dessert. We felt we had been snookered.

Much of the week we went off on buses just to see where they would take us. Some seemed promising, at least at first. Our biggest adventure came yesterday. We went off to find IKEA, the Swedish home furnishings giant of a store. We went there with an SV the first Monday in town after getting into our apartment. But he had a rental car which made the trip much easier. Since that day, reaching the store has seemed like a huge impossibility for us. Grandma googled how long it would take to walk to the store from our place and the answer was two hours. By a good stroke, we noticed on Friday that bus no. 63, which runs reasonably close to us, has an electronic sign saying that it goes to Bornova city center. Since IKEA is in Bornova, we thought that the city center couldn't be too far from the store. I mean, how big can a city be? But when we reached the place where bus 63 should have turned right (south) to go to the area of the store, it turned left (north). And then kept going in a mad dash, farther north and then a long way east. I said to Grandma, "I have a funny feeling about this trip." But rather than abandon our enterprise, Grandma said, "Let's just see where this bus goes." We did. And we ended far from IKEA. But the story has a good ending (I'm tipping my hat here).

After we climbed off the bus, Grandma spotted a Metro sign, a very good omen. But where might the Metro go that would be helpful? Grandma's googling had shown the store and a Metro station to be about a mile from one another. But which station? Then, just like that, two young women appeared in front of us walking to the Metro station. I stopped them and said "IKEA." Then I made a gesture to indicate a big place. They were puzzled at first; then, after I repeated the name, they understood. They motioned for us to follow them into the Metro station (it was underground). Naturally, we did. What did you expect? That we would refuse? We sat down on a seat opposite these young women and another young woman who appeared to be with her grandfather spoke to us in English saying that IKEA was at the second stop. At the second stop, we got off. It was as if these young women had been put in those places just for us. But I don't want to claim too much. Now what to do? Upon exiting the place, I spotted three young people looking at their phones. I walked up to them and said (again) "IKEA." One of them spoke pretty good English and led us to the street and then pointed while giving us directions to a traffic circle where we were to turn right. His directions actually worked. We finally found ourselves on a completely deserted street except for a stylishly dressed woman who was the only person whom we could see walking along that street. Again, I said "IKEA." She spoke English. She told us what to do next to reach the store. Sure enough, we soon spotted it. I estimate that we had walked about three quarters of a mile from the Metro to IKEA. But that beats the two hours that Grandma's googling discovered. Naturally, we came home with stuff, riding first the Metro and then, after a short walk, the bus.

While I was in a state of reverie about our triumph in reaching IKEA and about Parker's new assignment, I locked us out of our apartment last evening. But that's another story that Grandma may tell.

I hope and trust that you are well. I pray for you.

Grandpa