Have you ever had one of those moments when you just stop everything you’re doing, look around, look at the person next to you, look at yourself and wonder what the f*ck just happened? We did two nights ago.
This past weekend, we decided to go over to the Asian side of Istanbul to a neighborhood called Kadikoy where we had a great time exploring the area. Aside from Istanbul’s famous Istiklal Avenue, Kadikoy is said to be one of the liveliest areas; Full of taverns, cafes, small shops selling homemade jewelry to big department stores, and our favorite, outdoor markets, Kadikoy had it all.
After a few hours of exploring, eating and of course, bar hopping, we made our way back across the Bosphorous Straight to enjoy a few more bars closer to our sleeping quarters. After a quick break at the hostel, we headed back out to Istikal Avenue. Not knowing where anything really was, we just wandered down a side street in hopes of finding something entertaining to do. We stumbled upon four different bars, two on each side, with people packed in between. Lauren had been wanting Raki, the national Turkish drink, since we got here. Now, we had Raki in Greece and it’s similar to moonshine, but this wasn’t the same stuff. In Greece they distill the leftover wine grapes and get Raki. In Turkey, it’s the same, but they add anise, which creates the black licorice flavor we both hate. So with that, Lauren ordered two doubles. We powered through (and I do mean struggled through) those, washed them down with a few more drinks and left.
It was still pretty early at that point, so we figured one more drink next to the hostel. Why not right? After turning the corner to our destination, not even halfway across the street, I got hit with some sort of liquid falling from the sky. My first thought was rain, but it was quick, and looking around there was nothing else coming down. I stopped and looked at Lauren and she had the same confused look on her face. There were a lot of people in front of this tiny little tavern so we had to turn sideways to get in and make our way towards a table. Still disturbed by what happened I noticed this awful smell. I asked her what it was and she said no idea. That’s when I looked down at my gray sweatshirt and saw spots. Naturally, my first reaction was to smell my clothes. It was us that smelled that way.
We stormed past the people crowding the door. They must’ve thought we hadn’t showered in months. Once outside we took a quick survey of our clothes and it hit us like a sack of shit. Someone puked on us. Those “raindrops” we felt as we casually strolled in for a nightcap was someone else sharing their last drink with us, as they had clearly a few too many. Not a clue where or who it came from, but that nasty bile rain was speckled on us from head to toe. We raced back to our room and instantly tore our vomit stained clothes off. Not sure of what to do with them at that moment, I picked them up, opened the window and tossed them outside. After a long, boiling hot shower I still felt disgusting but there wasn’t much more I could do.
The day after, we brought all our clothes to the laundry guy down the street. I would have preferred to do it ourselves to save us the embarrassment of having him think we threw up all over ourselves last night, but coin-operated laundry isn’t an option here.
Hopefully my next story won’t involve any throw up, whether it be us or someone else. But if it does I hope it’s nowhere near us, and definitely not on us.