The Curse of the Toilet Paper Gypsy

By the time I left Turkey after 6 weeks of travel, I was proud to boast on its behalf that I had seen only 3 homeless people or beggars during my entire journey, and all three were in Istanbul. (On the other hand, I was a bit confused by the fact that I had also seen only one Indian and one African, and they were both clearly tourists.) During the first leg of my journey, spent haunting around Istanbul, I was still in San Francisco mode when it came to street generosity -- that there would be many, many people asking for money, so if I wanted to have enough money to make it home, I would have to be selective with my giving. Watching the sunset over Leander Tour on the Asian side of Istanbul, my companion and I sat drinking çay on a set of carpeted concrete benches with loud poppish belly dancing music blaring in the background. An older woman approached carrying a bundle of red roses in her arms and a demure, pleading, but kind expression on her face. I reached into my pocket for some lira and handed her a coin, insisting that she just take the money and keep the rose for herself, believing I was truly doing her a favor of saving on the cost goods! When she finally accepted the money and the fact that I wouldn't take a rose, her expression went from polly-anna to furious prima donna and she stalked off, nose high in the air. Wow. Okay, she DID after all have a huge bundle of flowers parked back with some other ladies a few yards away -- clearly, I had insulted the quality of her roses.

In a few minutes, another woman approached me, this time with small packages of tissues. I guiltily refused, saying I didn't have any money. She reached out to grasp my hand, cherub grin and eyes softened with a type of worry that could only arouse compassion -- and still, I refused, giving her a smile and god bless instead. After a few minutes of this back and forth, she finally turned, expression darkening to crimson, and I could have sworn she cast a spell on me with her eyes. Wow again. More like shit. I hoped to god she hadn't cursed my first three born or something and although something told me to run after her with an apologetic bundle of alms, I held back.

Boy did I underestimate the power of a gypsy curse. That night we got on an overnight bus to Marmaris that stopped nearly ever hour to wait, idling for a half hour, making the journey and excruciatingly excessive 20 hours. At each stop, I dashed out to use the public toilets, dismayed to discover a toilet lid on the ground leading to a small hole with a pitcher of water standing by. Hmmm. What was the water for? I started to get a bit nervous. Finishing my business, I looked around for some paper. Of course there was none and of course, this is what the pitcher was for. Mortified, I did a little shake shake shake instead and dashed out, hoping this wasn't the toilet norm in this country. Oh boy did I underestimate Turkish norms. At every bus stop, in every bathroom, when that little package of tissues costing only a lira would have saved my tush, quite literally, I instead had nada...just a hole and a pitcher. I wondered how long the curse of the toilet paper gypsy would last...a day? A week? Was I doomed to live without toilet paper for ever? Every time I got a nosebleed or starting snotting from spicy curry, would I run to the bathroom only to find no sign of anything to wipe my nose anywhere? Oh my god!

The next day, we arrived at a small organic farm in Knidos to begin our next adventure and I was relieved to find a horde of toilet paper stashed in our bathroom area. Whew. I would never mess with gypsies again. Then slowly it dawned on me...maybe she hadn't cursed me after all. Maybe she just knew exactly what kind of Westerner I was by the looks of me and exactly what I would find in Turkish bathrooms -- and the stink-eye, maybe that was more of a "you damn fool, you have no idea what you're getting into. HA!" So my friends, instead of being careful who you give spare change to, be careful who you DON'T give it to. They may just have something that could save a little of your dignity and small stash of clean underwear.

---

---