This story begins here.
My brother Rashid must have regretted rejecting KSU. In KSU, he could have studied Economics in Arabic, which we all speak fluently, instead of studying it in far, far Istanbul in stupid, alien Turkish language which is of no use outside Turkey.
But I respected his choices and tried to play the good brother.
As soon as I finished setting him in his Indian friends’ apartment, God reminded me of THAT GIRL and gave me the next hint. He told me she was on some picturesque mountain top.
I forgot the great Briefing by my good work colleagues about Istanbul’s prostitutes and went to a travel company and asked the agent about nearest tourist mountain city.
He put me on a bus to Bursa.
But Bursa was anything but beautiful. All I found were buses honking their horns in the congested traffic due to Hajj holidays and Baqar Eid festivals (animal sacrifices).
It’s so disgusting a season that it’s alone a reason for a guy like me to thank God for sacrificing His son.
Jesus saved us from a lot of filth but Christians are unaware; they really need to Google on Islamic feast of sacrifices or come experience it first hand.
I was disappointed and confused in Bursa. I could find THAT GIRL nowhere. I went back to travel company and went ahead to Izmir. I found a small zoo there and afterwards, ran into a Syrian cart-pusher selling lemonade.
He refused to take any money from me and gave me two more free especial cups for finally finding someone who spoke Arabic. The poor guy must have suffered his share of Turks’ racism!
He wanted to thank God. Wasn’t a good guy to ask about girls and prostitutes, though.
Then I ran into a bad Kurd guy. I asked him about a place to find bad girls. He cursed me for coming all the way to Izmir looking for bad girls.. instead of the “Colorful Istanbul”.
He was right. How could I forget the Briefing?
I rushed back to Istanbul but by the time I reached it, it was 12am, June 4. And it was bloody cold; I was shivering.
I went to my brother’s apartment without delay and they took good care of me.
They also made sure I was kept away from the bad girls (ugh!) and they all came to see me off at bloody Ataturk Airport at 10am as my flight back to Jeddah was at 1pm.
Such people make you wonder why you paid them $220 and not just $25 they had asked to install a telephone line!
After I returned safe & sound to Jeddah, my bank, NCB ripped me off $1000 traveller checks I had not used and deposited with them.
For a whole year I tried to recover my lost deposit and also to give Rashid an ATM that would work in Turkey without success.
Hamid was closely watching me through my little sister, who found my predicament very amusing. She also found my failure to find a bad girl in Turkey equally amusing.
My brother Hamid then took that opportunity and asked me to leave Rashid and his financial problems to him.
Turned out he knew everything about money transfer and banking stuff.
God told me He let NCB bank rip me off to punish me for listening to my friends instead of trusting Him!
Well, at least I can say I helped solve Rashid’s problems!
This story continues here .