Down for the cause

I roll out of bed. It is 9 am. It is Canada Day. Mood: jubilant.

We head to our last Turkish class of the week. I walk in and exchange an approving glance with Yun when I notice our teacher is sporting a tank top. I like her panache. We learn a little more, ostensibly, but most of the guys are too distracted to really pick up on the dialogue exercises. Eventually we break for lunch and I eat something, I imagine.

Attempts to set up my wireless internet prove fruitless. The system is convoluted at best and it repeatedly defeats my attempts to crack it. My frustration is lifted when I discover the bazaar is on today and we are going to it. It proves to be quite the experience and it gives us a chance to try out the Turkish numbers we learned. Our bargaining is less than successful, however, and Clint leaves with two bananas, an apple and six eggs for seven lira. I guess they don't like the white boys.

We stop at the grocery store and eventually find our way back to campus, which is surprisingly close. On the way back, we pass what is effectively the campus pub, Drunk. Campus is technically dry, but this place is fifty feet from the gates and a ten minute walk from the dorms. This is most wonderful news.

Meeting up at the dorms, me, Sarah, Cathy, Sabrina and Jill head out to Drunk at about 9. It is Canada Day, and by God I am going to let these Turks know how we do things back home. The place is nice. Very nice. Open air booths next to a background filled with comfy armchairs and benches, with a screen playing music videos and World Cup games. Kick off the night with a couple stiff double rakıs before deciding to go it Big Lebowski style and get myself a White Russian. I should have known the Russkis would **** me.

It arrives in a cocktail glass. Even the girls' drinks are in normal tall glasses, but mine is in a ****ing cocktail glass. I look like I am in Sex and the goddamn City. My Y chromosome evaporates for the next five minutes as I am the butt of countless jokes and target of multiple photographs. Soon enough I am back on my game and downing beers while delivering some of my best commentary and one-liners of the trip to date. I drop about forty lira, but no matter. The social wheels are greased and I feel confident I can continue at a high level of hilarity from here. Memory is hazier than the night before, but the outing was top-notch.