What to do if you are lost in Turkey. Unusual experience.
A few years ago we went to Turkey with a big group. To the hotel, which was located in a small village near Alanya. My wife's brother went with us - a hefty, silent trucker. He was abroad for the first time. Trips with cargo to post-Soviet Central Asia do not count.
Everything was great in Turkey until we bought into the "Romantic Evening on a Club Yacht" advertisement. Music will be played on board and an experienced sommelier will offer decent drinks and light snacks. You will see the beckoning light of Alanya at night, the moon path, the lights of cruise ships and blah blah blah.
An overflowing trough with dangerously low bulwarks sailed 800 meters from the port and dropped anchor. Shouted insane, meaningless music to which it was impossible to dance. The quality of this cacophony is evidenced by such a fact - once every half an hour they turned on some national Turkish song and people tried to dance to it.
There were no drinks. They poured a monstrous swill against the background of which even the nasty olinclus cognac looked like a vop. From the appetizers, underblown popcorn was served.
It was not the best evening of my life.
In the bus, which was transporting people to hotels, the guide, in order to break the gloomy ominous silence of disgruntled tourists, offered everyone her guide microphone to sing songs. Nobody moved. The tension in the cabin grew. And then my wife's brother stood up and said that he would sing right now.
And he sang the first verse "Noisy reeds". Then he smiled embarrassedly and said that he did not know further. At that moment, the bus stopped at the first hotel on the list and two young girls fluttered out of it. The brother looked after them, said that he would get off here and disappeared into the night.
I reconstructed the further outline of events from his fuzzy memories, the testimony of police officers and the stories of the tour operator's employees.
He offered the girls to eat and drink the ship's dirty tricks in a good restaurant. They agreed. Before he had time to eat and drink, he saw two more girls. Much prettier than the ones he ate. Leaving a large bill on the table and hastily saying goodbye, he caught up with the new girls and invited them to go out for a drink somewhere. We went. We drank. Then we went somewhere by taxi. But, apparently, he got so kerosene that the girls said goodbye to him on the threshold of their hotel and left.
And then it dawned on him that he did not remember not only the name of his hotel, but also the name of the settlement where this hotel is located. Bracelets, I must say, we had. But these were strange atypical bracelets without the name of the hotel, but with some kind of metal electronic chip.
So what to do? Well, imagine. You are in the middle of nowhere, you are drunk, you don't know a single language and you don't even know where you live and it's at three o'clock in the morning.
You can fall into despair. But this is not about him. He saw that a bus with tourists whose vacation had already ended was about to depart from one of the hotels. My brother (let's call him Vasya) got on this bus and, making sure that he was going to the airport, sat in the front seat. Nobody dared to answer him. Well, how? Vasya is so huge that he lifts a car battery with one hand. Taking him over. Old European pensioners during a trip to the airport received a sparkling completion of their insipid vacation. Vasya hugged them, sang, and seemed to dance a little in the aisle.
Why did he go to the airport? But why. He remembered that when he arrived, he saw a bunch of racks with girls who spoke Russian and knew where he lives. And there was a hope to find out your address from these girls and finally go to sleep.
At 4 o'clock in the morning there were no girls. Verney had one counter and one girl who was waiting for a plane from France. Vasya began to pester her with a request to find his data. He beat himself with a huge fist in the chest and explained - "Vasya I am. From Moscow. Moscow, fershteesh? Well, look at your papers. Well, maybe you will find me there? "
Longer his direct speech - "And then they broke my flippers and dragged me to the local monkey house. "
The airport police treated him humanely. They didn't beat. They gave water and, most importantly, found a Russian-speaking employee of the airport, to whom Vasya told about his misfortune. So what? In the end, he behaved almost normally and did not break any laws. Many, say, British tourists arrive in Turkey in a much more bestial state.
At 5 am, the airport came to life and the police brought two employees of travel companies to the cell, who, after questioning him, managed to find his data in an hour.
The police, wanting to make sure, decided to call the hotel and find out if he really lives there. But before that, they asked Vasya with whom he flew into the country. And Vasya, a lonely, unmarried dunce, said that he was with his wife. With Vera. (And Vera is his sister and my wife. And she didn’t change her last name after the wedding. That is, they have the same last names. )
The police called the hotel and asked if Vera K. . . really lives with her husband Vasya K.....The sleepy receptionist said that Vera K. . . lives with them, but not with Vasya K. . . , and with Kolya E....
The police brought this information to Vasya. He, not quite sober, clasped his head in his hands and sobbed something like this - "While I'm sitting here in prison, my wife has already been seduced by some scoundrel Kolya E. . . "
In short, he was brought in a police car with flashing lights and sirens. I was just smoking at the entrance to the hotel and saw all this.
Of course, this experience is ambiguous. But what ingenuity! And all's well that ends well.
