Tea with biscuits - The Well-Meaning Driver, the Goat Man & an Istanbul Detour

…continued Post 2 of 2 - first published 2007

Some memories in Istanbul feel stitched together by equal parts kindness and chaos. One favourite example began after an overnight bus from Antalya - the kind with single leather seats that make you forget you’re travelling at all. Flying would have taken just as long once you counted taxis, security, luggage, transfers, and the emotional weight of hauling a suitcase through airports like a pack mule. The bus was easier.

Returning home after one such trip, the service bus dropped passengers off in Beşiktaş. As the last one on board, the young driver asked where I was going.
‘Levent,’ I said.
‘And after that?’
‘Oh – Arnavutköy.’
Without hesitation he said, ‘I’ll take you home.’

I tried to decline, but he insisted, so I sat back and watched Istanbul go by. Except…we weren’t going toward Arnavutköy. Or anywhere familiar. Multiple turns, multiple strange detours, and the creeping suspicion that he wasn’t just choosing a different route - he was lost.

‘Do you know Arnavutköy?’ I asked. ‘Next to Bebek…Boğaz’da – Bebek…on the Bosphorus.’ He nodded confidently. Which, in hindsight, was an outrageous gesture.

Minutes later, he pulled over beside a weathered man tending goats. In İstanbul.
They spoke for quite a while. The goats contributed nothing but judgment.

The driver eventually returned, flustered, and admitted he had to get back to the depot and couldn’t retrace our path. He dropped me closer to civilisation, and I hailed a taxi. The fare was quadruple the usual price, but how could I blame him? His intention had been generous. His navigation skills? Catastrophic.

I’ve learned that Istanbul offers you moments like this – moments where the sincerity is real, the execution is questionable, and the story becomes unforgettable.