He was about 6'4" and said he was from Kuwait, though later an official at the U.S. consulate would tell me he was likely from North Africa. Wherever he was from, it's funny how life surprises you sometimes, leaving you to wonder how easily things would have been different had you turned left instead of right, or if you had gotten up from the curb at, say, 12:14 p.m. instead of 12:24 p.m.
I had planned to spend the afternoon alone. I had wanted to spend the afternoon alone, actually, because for the past three weeks I had been co-leading twenty-one American university students on a study-tour through the Middle East, which concluded here in Turkey's largest city, Istanbul. Only this morning I had seen them off at the airport for their flight home. I would miss them, but I also was overdue for some needed time to myself. Who could have guessed that by the time their plane would touch down in the States, I would be unconscious, my body dumped in the bushes of a city park?
Christmas was only a week away, yet mild weather graced the city - perfect for outdoor exploration. Delighted to have no responsibilities, I mapped out a ten-mile walk through the city. My route made, I put the few things I didn't feel comfortable leaving in the hotel into my backpack and then slung the thing over my shoulder. I trotted down the stairs, swung open the door, and stepped into a city of ten million people.
Five miles into my walk I came upon a small mosque. Friday's midday prayers were just ending, and from a curb across the street I watched the congregants spill out of the building, slip into their shoes, and vanish one by one down a maze of adjacent alleys. Once the mosque was empty of its people, I got up to leave myself, anxious to continue on my way. It was about now that a stranger approached and, after saying hello, asked where I was from.
Abdel and I talked for several minutes. This was enough time for me to know that Abdel would talk for hours, if I let him. So, not wishing to be rude but very much wanting to be alone, I told Abdel my time was short and so I would have to say goodbye. This wasn't entirely true, of course, but I thought my white lie would be a reasonable way to end the conversation.
Abdel, however, outflanked me. He asked, "Can I walk with you?"
Looking at his face, which appeared as hopeful as a child's, I still wanted to say, "Heck no, Abdel, I'm tired of people and just want to be left alone today." But unable to refuse such a modest request, I instead said, "Yes."
For forty-five minutes Abdel and I meandered our way through several neighborhoods. The people of the Middle East and Turkey are known for their friendliness, but never had I met someone as "chummy" as Abdel. He probed me with the oddest questions. I can see now that I should've been suspicious when he asked if I carried my passport with me. Abdel, of course, knew something I would only learn tomorrow: that an American passport can fetch up to $4,000 on the black market.
We stopped to get a Coke - "Please, let me buy," he insisted - and then, as we continued our walk, he pulled a packet of Oreos from his coat pocket. I wasn't hungry, but when he offered one I was compelled to accept his generosity - something I had done hundreds of times in similar situations. But the cookie tasted awful, even a bit soggy. After I took this first bite Abdel turned away to look around us. With his eyes momentarily diverted, I tossed the remaining cookie half into the gutter.
Then, in less than a minute, a wave of sleepiness slammed into me, hard. I tried furiously to shake it off.
"Are you tired?" Abdel asked, his appearance now taking on a more sinister look.
"No," I lied.
I tried to grasp what was happening to me, and in the few moments of consciousness I had left, I should have screamed. But all I did was try to ignore my predicament, thinking I could will it away even as the people around me began to blur.
It was only 1:00 p.m., but my Friday was over.
Four years after being drugged and mugged in Istanbul, I returned to the city (at the end of a 14-month journey across Asia). This was the view of the Bosphorus Straits at dawn, seen from the Orient Hostel.
________
 |  |  | ||
| Joel Carillet, Gather Travel Correspondent | ||||
His articles, based on extensive travels in Asia and the Middle East, seek to shed light on humanity, both our own and that of others. They aim not merely to entertain and inform but also to develop a sense of connection between the reader and the world. Joel's writing and photography have appeared in several magazines and newspapers, including the Kansas City Star and Christian Science Monitor. Currently he is seeking an agent for a book manuscript entitled Sixty-One Weeks: A Journey across Asia. When not on the road, he happily calls Tennessee home. Keep up with Joel's article series by joining his network, or subscribing to his content. | ||||
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Comments: 47
Hooking us into a exciting story like this and then saying "to be continued"??? That is awfully tricky...!
Ok... what will it take to hear the rest of it SOON?
Thanks again for reading, everyone.
After trotting around Manhattan a lot as a teen, I've learned to be very wary of strangers. Then again, I feel a woman alone is a much easier target.
As for eating from strangers, I'll always do that (and have done it hundreds of time since this mugging in 2000). To not accept food from a stranger simply based on this experience would, to me, make about as since as not crossing an intersection in my car because I once got broadsided at one. I'm pretty alert and, I think, careful in my dealing with strangers, and part of why I felt comfortable taking this guy's cookie was that we were in a crowd of thousands of people. It'll always be a mystery how he got me from the spot where I last remember being conscious to a park more than a half mile away.
The only thing I'd have done differently, in retrospect, is yell for attention once the drowsiness hit me.
I think you should just write longer articles. Then you don't have to make us wait two weeks :-P
you had such a terrible experience in such an amazing city. Can't wait to read the folo up story!
did you ever eat oreos again? YIKES!
"Stunned to look at my watch and discover it was Saturday morning, I stumbled out of bed, trailing an IV, and found a nurse. In slurred English I pleaded for a phone but was told in Turkish to return to bed. I refused to leave her desk, however, which prompted her to send for a (very muscular) male orderly. And so it came to pass that, in a rather sudden maneuver, the orderly scooped the drugged American right off the floor. As if to further illustrate Turkish strength, he then flung the American over his right shoulder and carried him back to bed."
Congrats on being featured on Gather! Quality content is what makes this place so great!
We always tell out kids not to accept food from strangers... wonder why... :-)
If anyone wants, you can commemorate the 7th anniversary of this event by eating an Oreo on December 15. Part Two will cover about a 48 hour period, picking up where part one leaves off on 12/15/00.
No more oreos for me...
Am looking forward to your next installment in this most frightful story of stories.
Thanks!
I hope it has a good ending...
OK, on to part 2.
Thank God things didn't turn out any worse!
I just wanted to stop by since I am finally going through what is now listed as under 4,600 pieces of gather new mail that is sitting in my inbox on here.
With that mentioned I just came across either a mailing from you yourself, or someone else brought this piece to my attention. You or they felt that your creation should be shared with the gather community, which I am very glad that it was passed on to me to view. So I wanted to say Thank you for taking the time out of your busy day to publish it here on gather for us to all view. :o)
As well before I leave you I wanted to wish you a Happy New Year... in 2009 :o)