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  • We Met in Istanbul

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    Carmen Neacsu
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    We met in Istanbul for our first real date after months of virtual communication. I arrived at 3am and he was waiting for me at the bus station. Though timid, we hugged in greeting and began walking through the city at night, passing palm trees and mosques. I felt like I was in a bizarre, exotic land as described in the stories I had read, with the stars above and conversations in unfamiliar languages. Though his English was poor, he listened enthusiastically as I talked.

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    We met in Istanbul for our first real date after months of virtual communication. I arrived at 3am and he was waiting for me at the bus station. Though timid, we hugged in greeting and began walking through the city at night, passing palm trees and mosques. I felt like I was in a bizarre, exotic land as described in the stories I had read, with the stars above and conversations in unfamiliar languages. Though his English was poor, he listened enthusiastically as I talked.

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    66 views1 page

    We Met in Istanbul

    Uploaded by

    Carmen Neacsu
    We met in Istanbul for our first real date after months of virtual communication. I arrived at 3am and he was waiting for me at the bus station. Though timid, we hugged in greeting and began walking through the city at night, passing palm trees and mosques. I felt like I was in a bizarre, exotic land as described in the stories I had read, with the stars above and conversations in unfamiliar languages. Though his English was poor, he listened enthusiastically as I talked.

    Copyright:

    © All Rights Reserved
    Download as DOCX, PDF, TXT or read online from Scribd
    Flag for inappropriate content
    of 1

    We met in Istanbul.

    It was our first real date, after the virtual ones we had had during the previous 3-4
    months.

    I can vividly recall the night when I first arrived there. It was around 3 a.m. He was waiting for me at the
    international bus station. He was tall, thin and with a gentle look on his face. I recognised him easily. We
    greeted each other. We hugged, rather timidly. And then we started walking.

    Istanbul. I had read Panait Istrati’s stories about his exotic travels to Near East over and over. His
    descriptions of Turkey, with its flavors, with its laidback lifestyle, with its fairy-like colors would always
    make me daydream about it. And now, here I was, walking in the cool night breeze, passing near palm
    trees, seeing imposing-looking mosques, hearing fragments of conversations in a language I had never
    heard before. I felt I was walking through a bizarre land, exotic and enchanting. The stars above.

    I was talking, enthusiastically. He was listening. His English was poor.

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