Monday, January 24th, 2005

Today I crashed back into the confusion that is Turkey with full force. It only took five weeks in “western” countries to forget that things here are often more easily said than done. I woke up a bit late, about 9:30 am, and prepared to head out and exchange my money. I had £40 left over from England, and €75 that Lufthansa gave me for getting bumped back ten minutes to another flight from London to Munich. So I thought, why not convert it? Plus, my bank account is drained from my European adventures, so it just made sense.

I left the dormitory and thought to myself, “Ok, I can either walk for 15 minutes to Kızılay and go to the exchange house, or I can just go to one of those banks a few minutes away here in Maltepe. Since I had no money with which to use the bus, the banks were sounding pretty good. I headed to the first one, AKBANK I believe. And there was a line. No problem, just wait it out. I waited for 40 minutes before getting to the teller. No problem, I am a patient man, right? I hand the lady my £40 and say, “Türk lirası lutfen.” She looks at me, and then says in perfect English (well done lady!), “Have you seen our exchange rate? It’s really bad. Look..” and shows me theirs compared to other banks. She was right, their rate sucked. “You should go to Şeker Bank down the street, their rate is the best.”

Well, how nice of her. I was truly surprised; she had no reason to say it. Well, she probably just felt sorry for the goofy clueless American. Anyway, I said my thank you and headed about 20 meters up the road to the bank she recommended. Where I once again waited for 40 minutes. I got up to the counter, give my money exchange sentence, and got completely shut down! This lady spoke no English but I got the message. I sputtered around for a bit, and a guy in line said, “Sorry, she can’t accept the British pound. Why don’t you try AKBANK?” Well, because they sent me here. I then asked him why the bank lists the exchange rate if they don’t accept the currency. He asked her, and she gave me the most evil stare I have received in quite some time, and then called the next person in line to the counter. Woof. The funny thing was that people were giving her all sorts of currencies. I saw American dollars, euros, and some other stuff I didn’t even recognize.

So, with my head hanging low, I trudged onward to the next bank, whose name I can’t even remember. And this one seemed promising. While the others were just mad queues with people jostling around, waiting to be served, this one hard a large lobby and a little ticket machine that gave you a number depending on what you wanted to do. I pressed the button for currency exchange, became #686, and sat down on a plush bench to wait. And wait I did. I waited and waited and waited. The funny thing was, the majority of the wait was taken up by one couple who had the currency exchange teller running all over the bank. It almost became obscene after a while. I had been there close to 50 minutes when I noticed that the lobby was thinning out. Oh god, they don’t close for lunch do they? Please hurry…

Finally the couple leaves. My number should be popping up. But it doesn’t. The teller is just sitting there, fiddling around. It’s 12:25 and I’m not getting called. I go up and try my exchange sentence on him. He starts talking and I have no clue. So he gets one of the other tellers to come over and help. “I’m very sorry,” she says, “but we’re closing for lunch now. You can come back at 13:30.” My jaw dropped. But there’s still five mintues, and I’ve been here for almost an hour! She relays the message to the teller, who starts ranting about something. The only word I recognize is “sigara”, which is cigarette. “I’m sorry,” she apologizes, “there just isn’t enough time. You can come back at 13:30.” And I was shown out!

Amazing. Three banks, almost three hours, and at the end I was defeated because some dude needed his cigarette break to start early. At this point, I think I could have used the cigarette more than him! So, I turned around and walked for 20 minutes to Kızılay. Frustrated, upset, and INSTENSELY hungry. I made it to the exchange house, walked right to the counter and received my 100 YTL (no more millions!) in under a minute. Good grief. Now I know better. What started out as a time saver in my mind turned into a three hour epic of dead ends and bitterness. What an experience to have on an empty stomach.

I remedied the morning’s frustrations by heading to a restaurant and getting a huge pide (thin pizza thingy), a nice salad and an ayran to drink, all for only 3 YTL (around $2). The cheap and tasty meal brightened my spirits and helped me see the humor present in all of this. At least I didn’t freak out and start screaming in classic obnoxious tourist fashion. And I learned two important lessons: (1) always carry some money, and (2) stay the hell away from Turkish banks!