Bug-Splattered View

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In case you haven’t been following along, I’ll repeat my declaration that Turks are the most hospitable people I’ve met to date. Their hospitality extends from inside their homes out into the streets and onto the highways. Drivers pick me up from the side of the road, stop at diners to feed me, and take detours to give me a better view of the countryside. Without apprehension, I’ve caught rides from tractors, scooters, family cars and big rigs – and let me tell you that the road never looks as romantic as it does through the bug-splattered panoramic of a big rig’s windshield. That being said, not every ride has been without incidence.

The majority of the people who pick me up can’t speak English, but they all have a friend who can. They inevitably call that friend and pass the phone to me. Mostly, the driver wants to convey the message that I am welcome and wants to know where I’m going. Leaving Adıyaman, however, I had a conversation of a different sort. Once past the niceties, the English-speaker informed me that his driving friend thought that I was beautiful and wanted to kiss me. “It is problem?” he asked, “You are married?” I value honesty above all else, but I hope I will be forgiven for the simple lie, “Yes, I am married and it is problem. Big problem.” I handed the phone back and the subject was dropped. I didn’t feel threatened, or even uncomfortable, but I made a note to myself to buy a wedding ring.

A few days later, the man who picked me up on my way to Dara began bouncing up and down in his seat, rubbing his fingers together and shouting, “Sex! Sex!” Hoping that I was just mishearing a Turkish word, I didn’t respond. Not to be ignored, he pulled a condom out from the center console and shook it in my direction. I rejected his advance in Turkish and English “Yok! Yok! No!” He rescinded his indecent proposal, claiming it was only a joke, “Şaka. Şaka.” Joke or no joke, I reached for my pepper spray and indicated that I wanted out.

He pulled over with no complaints, but before I could step down he gave it one last try, pulling out a wad of cash and waving it in my face. I jumped out of the cab as fast as I could, feeling degraded and nauseous. People are the only thing I believe in and I don’t like it when my faith is shaken. Luckily, the kindly curators from Dara pulled up not five minutes later and restored it. Many of you might think I’m crazy for immediately getting back into a car with strangers after something like that, but I refuse to let the few ruin it for the many. And I promise that I won’t take any more rides from truck drivers.

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