Dangers of Living in a Guest House

This past Sunday I decided that I had worked way hard during the past week when I taught my two classes, and that I deserved to do whatever I wanted. Which is what I do every day. But this time, I earned it.

I went to breakfast in the city; there are a few places which I patronize (this means I walk to a breakfast salon and tear a 50 lira bill in half, screaming, "BRING ME HONEY"; my patronage is highly sought after). Most of them still don't know I don't speak Turkish. So after explaining to Bulent again that I can't understand him - if we're on a first name basis I feel like he should know it already - I ate my honey and cream and stayed to drink chai until I got to a stopping place in my book (Takeshi defeated the younger version of himself in hand to hand combat - it's a time travel thing, and it'd take too long to explain here).

When I got back, I had a Spa Day (shower; use shampoo) and got back in to bed, preparing to watch the entire second season of Warehouse 13 again because a) it's that good, and b) I had to buy it through iTunes, so I need my money's worth.

Fighting paranormal crime so you don't have to...be productive.

At least that was my plan. And I know what they say - if you want to make God laugh, tell him a fart joke. He loves those.

By my third episode, I'm under the comforter, picking cookie crumbs out of my chest hair (and eating them - I had just showered and used shampoo), when I see in my sitting room one of the Turks who work at my guest house. After five months, I still live at a pseudo-hotel, in a two-room suite, but it's okay with me because they make my bed as long as I'm out by eleven. However, at this point it's not okay, because I have minimal clothes on and with my headphones I couldn't hear anyone enter.

But the Turk, seeing me shirtless with cookie crumbs on my shoulders (I'm a messy eater), gets so embarrassed that he walks backwards out of the room. That's right. He was so disgusted in awe of my then current situation that he was unable to walk normally.

I was slightly embarrassed but realized it was a mistake. Besides, I assumed that he would tell all of his friends to stay out my room because I was working out my eye muscles watching science fiction.

Not five minutes later I saw a different Turk walk into my sitting room. I knew him, and I assumed Ercan, while not being so paralyzed as to never walk forwards again, would graciously bow out of the room. Instead, Ercan looked at me and smiled. I took my headphones off and asked him what he wanted.

"What are you watching?" he asked. I'm watching one of the cleaning people invade my privacy. But instead of saying that in a way he would understand, I told him I was watching a television show. Expecting him to leave, I was again disappointed as he stood in my sitting room and looked around, checking surfaces for dust.

Eventually he did leave. I was amazed he stuck around that long, and expected him to be embarrassed about it later, but that night as I emerged for food, Ercan stopped me in the foyer and asked if I enjoyed the television show. The nerve of some people.