Completely Lost Without Translation

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On the 30th of October, a friend and I walked in to the office of Kamil Koc in Taksim, looking to buy a ticket to Canakkale the following day. The guy who spoke English, knew 3 words: Yes, No, and Tomorrow, or so we thought. Trusting his vast English knowledge, we asked for a ticket to Chanakkale for TOMORROW. He wrote down, 12:30, and asked "Tamam?" After some reluctance about missing class on Friday, we accepted.

The ticket we received said 00:30 for time of departure. Turks and their crazy military time thing, we told ourselves, not fully grasping the meaning of it all. The next day, we show up, with the least dirty of our clothes stuffed in our backpacks, panting for breath just after twelve noon. The woman at the desk looks at our tickets and smiles to the guy on her right, and they're both looking (laughing?) at us like we're from outerspace. After some pointing at the clock, and broken turklish later, we realize we were about 12 hours late for our bus. We got our ticket reissued to that night at 12.30, and caught a cab back to school and made it to class on time at 1PM.

Long Live Fundamentals of Political Economy!

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