This is Turkey

Yes, I’ve been busy. Getting back to business in another foreign country.

Disembarking in Istanbul, the only thing resembling a Turkey was the fat, bearded policeman who took my passport. The one who escorted me to a little room where he put on a pair of rubber gloves and made me very nervous. My heart raced. And not in a good way. I haven’t gone for a prostate exam so I wasn’t comfortable with  a full body search. He also asked me if I was carrying dollars, which seems to be the universal currency for a bribe. Unfortunately I didn’t have any on me. I was finally let go, after he fumbled my neatly folded clothes into one big mess. I didn’t complain. Turns out I was the random spot check of the day. He wasn’t corrupt after all…

It’s obvious that I have the face of an international fugitive or a drug lord. Or both. Maybe I should get rid of my goatee. Continue reading