Ankara
I forgot there would be a weekly outdoor bazaar that morning. These vendors are quite the workers. I bet they had risen around 3:00 in the morning before hitting the road with their trucks full of peppers, mushrooms, and parsley. A job like that must bring them a satisfactory income every week. The economy requires such good people to be out there; they contribute heavily to the local income. But they define the meaning of traffic very well. I was delayed for about 2 to 3 minutes as they were setting up their tents, and their stands and trucks were parked in the side streets.
A large white truck, with a stubborn driver, was coming down a decline in the road in the opposite direction. He forced me to go back 200 meters to give way. I had to, just to save myself some time. I was in a race against time, and I love that. I love the challenge with time, especially when it is at the last minute. It pumps adrenaline through my veins. A good feeling, adrenaline. Challenges are only good when you win them.
It was still dark when I arrived at the train station. Fortunately, I found a good parking spot nearby. I asked the taxi drivers for directions to the entrance, and they were helpful and kind men. I noticed one of them enjoying a cup of tea. I didn’t consider having one myself due to the excitement of the moment, but honestly, why would anyone have tea at six in the morning? Then again, I can’t resist Coca-Cola at that hour; it’s always tempting.
It was a long line. People of all types were there. Waiting their turn desperately. I was more desperate than them. But I believed I won’t miss the train. I have never missed a train. I only miss the bus. I probably miss the bus three times a week.
The YHT train was not fast as they said. They call it the speed train. As a generation born and raised watching the Looney Toons I bet you know Wile E. Coyote and the road runner I had different expectations. Oh boy, the visual effects misses up with our little brains. We do not articulate our expectations but it visits our imagination anyhow. Why doesn’t the train runs as fast as The Road Runner.
It felt like I can race the train and win the race. It was quiet inside the train until a group of people in their early 20s started to have a long conversation. I didn’t bother having some noise now and then. A little noise is better than a quiet room.
As the train glided smoothly along the tracks revealing fleeting glimpses of the passing landscapes. I leaned my head and watched in silence. I seat was the one by the aisle not the window. There were numerous tunnels some are long some are short, some tunnels had lights inside them. Emerging from the tunnel into the sunlight lighting up the sky and earth is a breathtaking image. The vast sea mirrors the sun hues, weaving an attractive scenery with the ships cruising in the water’s glassy surface. A bridge standing on both sides of the coast. I loved to watch that. I wished I could watch longer but life is imperfect.
Many activities were cancelled as we had no much time to hang around. We couldn’t visit the national library, the biggest library in the whole republic, due to the time limit we had.
The city was humble and less advanced than Istanbul. I wonder why the capital is not more advanced! Again I would snort and say “life is imperfect”
I loved the city. I loved the fact that people enjoy the pickle festival every year between September 4th and 10th. Today, buses were full. The bus driver was a fair, traditional man who shouted at all the Ankarians and said, ‘THERE ARE MANY PASSENGERS COMING FOR THE FOREIGN LANGUAGE TEST AND THEY NEED TO CATCH THE EXAM. FORGET ABOUT THE FESTIVAL NOW AND GET THE NEXT BUS.’ He deserves a raise. Actually, Ankara deserves a salute for 10 seconds from all the visitors today. Bus 487 changed its route today to correspond with passengers’ needs. Most of them had to go back to the train station.
The sun quietly signed out and went down with a charming light. The golden rays kissed the tree leaves, the soil, our skin, the sculptures at the entrance of the train station.
It was peaceful sitting by the aisle scrutinizing strangers fixing their legs, shaking their feet in discomfort, swiping their thumps up and down on their instagram feeds; some of them swung their head into the aisle to eye someone sitting a little far from them, a boy biting his nails, two sisters had a blueberry juice and lemon juice, they prepared a cocktail in the bottle lid, they added a crack of Doritos in it and one of the sisters took the shot while the other watched her, they realized that I enjoyed the show. They blushed and got bashful, I winked and gave them the OK hand gesture they both laughed. Another senior citizen with a white mustache he was battling his way down the aisle to his seat as the train wiggled, he had a classy ivory newsboy cap.
I miss my balcony, a fleeting moment on the balcony at night when people in their houses waste energy instead of going to bed early, creating an artistic image for strangers on their balconies, observing the charming lights covering the view; it is all I need now.
What I know for certain is that I am going to visit Ankara again.
