It was kind of an odd birthday. I woke up this morning feeling more tired than usual. It took about 3 cups of coffee to get going. I had real Starbucks coffee, not the wimpy European stuff. G had planned to make me waffles for my birthday but I got really hungry last night and had the waffles then. I did have waffles for my birthday breakfast, although they were left over from last night. We made syrup from scratch (betcha you didn't know you could do that) but I ended up spreading Nutella on my waffles. Nutella's good stuff.
Now, the stinky part about my birthday was G was set to go out of the country for two weeks, departing on my birthday. Booo, right? Don't blame him; it was work-related and unavoidable. A and I headed to our Sunday morning small group fellowship about the same time he headed for the airport. After that "fellowship" (if you know what I mean), we came home for A's nap. I also took a brief nap - brief because something woke me up.
It was just the oddest thing. I was napping on our new tweed-like gray-brown (I guess you call it taupe) couch. I felt a vibration and I snapped awake. The vibration continued for a couple of seconds. I got up and walked to the window to see if anyone was looking out with confusion on their faces - like me. Then I felt my apartment building sway - a quick sway back and forth several times. I think it was an earthquake. I texted a couple of people to see if they felt it. They didn't. From my view at the window, no one was looking out their window in confusion. Possibly because they're used to this.
Maybe it was my imagination. I looked it up online and there was an earthquake of 5.0 magnitude in Greece (which kind of neighbors my country with some water inbetween) right before I felt that vibration and swaying. There is a fault line that run east and west through the northern part of the country into the Aegean Sea which lies between here and Greece. I don't know that has anything to do with it.
Who knows if I actually felt an earthquake? Let's move on. A woke up and we went to a friend's house. She'd invited me for dinner. I ate with her, her husband and daughter, and two men who are my friends' partners in a Central Asian country. One of those men is a Dutchman. A Dutchman was at my birthday dinner. All international-like. Just sayin'.
So, the way to get from my apartment to the aforementioned friend's apartment is to take a metrobus from the stop near my home to a stop near hers. The metrobuses have their own lane and are never stuck in traffic. Then from the metrobus stop, I walk a little bit down a street and hop on a minibus. (I'm going to have to explain the modes of transportation that we use in this city in another post so stay tuned for that). Then I get off at a certain stop and walk to my friend's apartment. When it was time to leave, I assumed that I take the same minibus back to the metrobus stop, I thought the minibus made a small circular route back to the metrobus stop. The minibus has the names of the stops on its route in the window and it had my stop. It seemed like it was the right minibus. Little did I know that I was supposed to take the minibus going in the opposite direction to go back to the bus stop. So, as we were riding along on the - wrong - minibus, I realized that the we were making a general straight path; no turns to make a circular route back towards the metrobus stop. Whoops. Little A and I ended up in a part of the city that we'd never been to. I recognized a major landmark: the giant river that splits this enormous city in half.
The minibus came to a stop at the river, an area that was teeming with people. It had a party atmosphere and seemed like a popular spot. It's Ramadan and the sun has set so people were in line for a restaurant on the water. Everyone got off the bus. A and I waited to see if the minibus would start heading for our metrobus stop. The driver got up and looked at us, puzzled. I said, "Acibadem?" That's the name of the stop I needed to get to. His eyebrows shot up. Clearly, I was on the wrong minibus. He motioned me off the minibus and led me to another one, which I understood from the routes listed in the window that it was the minibus I needed to take to get home. I sat in the minibus and waited. And waited. It was way past A's bedtime so we got out and took a taxi home under 10 minutes with no problems.
Taking the wrong bus probably happens to everyone living in a foreign country. It's like a rite of passage. I once ended up in the wrong country. Literally. That's a story for another day.
All in all, an interesting birthday. An earthquake, a Dutchman, an accidental sightseeing tour.
Now, I'm off to bed.
Now, I'm off to bed.
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