Hippie

34

Karla’s tone had softened when they met in the hotel room to change into the clothes they’d washed the day before, as they prepared to head out to dinner.

“Where did you end up going today?”

She had never asked him this—to his mind, this was something that his mother would ask his father, or other married adults their partners. He didn’t feel like answering, and she didn’t insist.

“I’ll bet you went to the bazaar looking for me,” she said, and began to laugh.

“I started walking in your direction, but soon I changed my mind and went back to the place I was before.”

“I have an offer that you can’t refuse: let’s have dinner in Asia.”

It didn’t take much effort to figure out what she was proposing: to cross the bridge that led from one continent to the next. But the Magic Bus would be doing this soon, why the hurry?

“Because one day I’ll be able to tell people something they’ll never believe. I had a coffee in Europe and twenty minutes later I walked into a restaurant in Asia, ready to eat all the delicious things to be found there.”

It was a good idea. He would be able to tell his friends the same thing. No one would believe him either; they’d think the drugs had gone to his brain, but what did he care? There really was a drug that had slowly begun to take effect, it had started that afternoon, with the very same man he’d found when he entered the empty cultural center with its walls painted green.

Karla must have bought some sort of makeup at the bazaar, because she left the bathroom with eye shadow, and mascara on her lashes, something he’d never seen. She wore a constant smile, something he’d also never noticed before. Paulo thought about shaving—he’d had a goatee for ages, which covered his prominent chin, but generally he shaved whenever possible, and being unable to do so brought back horrifying memories, such as the days he’d spent in prison. But it hadn’t occurred to him to buy one of those disposable razors—he’d thrown away the last one just before they crossed into Yugoslavia. He put on a sweater he’d bought in Bolivia and the jean jacket with the metallic stars, and they walked downstairs together.

There was no one from the bus in the hotel lobby, except the driver, entertaining himself with the newspaper. They asked how they could cross the bridge to Asia. The driver smiled.

“I can tell you. I did the same thing my first time here.”

He gave them the necessary information to grab a bus (“Don’t even think about going on foot”) and apologized for forgetting the name of the excellent restaurant where he’d had lunch one time, on the opposite side of the Bosphorus.

In reality, they weren’t headed for Asia but for the former Constantinople. Others had joked with the driver about this, and now he did the same thing with the young couple. Favorable delusions were always welcome.

“What’s going on in the world?” Karla asked, pointing to the newspaper. The driver also seemed surprised by her makeup and her smile. Something had changed.

“Things have cooled down in the last week. For the Palestinians, who—according to the newspaper—are a majority in the country and were planning a coup, this will be forever known as Black September. That’s what they’re calling it. But travel routes are flowing normally—though I did call the office again and they’ve suggested I wait here for instructions.”

“Great, no one’s in any hurry. There’s an entire world to discover here in Istanbul.”

“You two need to visit Anatolia.”

“All in good time.”

As they walked toward the bus stop, Paulo noted that Karla held his hand as though they were something they were not—boyfriend and girlfriend. They made small talk, there was a lovely full moon that night, it wasn’t windy or rainy, it was perfect dining weather.

“I’ll pay today,” she said. “I’m dying to drink something.”

They boarded the bus and crossed the Bosphorus in reverential silence—as though having a religious experience. They got off at the first stop and walked along the edge of Asia, where there were five or six restaurants with plastic tablecloths. Seating themselves at the first one they came to, they looked out at the view before them; Istanbul’s monuments weren’t lit as in Europe, but the moon took it upon itself to cast over the city the most beautiful light they’d ever seen.

A waiter approached to take their order. They asked him to choose the best and most traditional dish. The waiter wasn’t used to this.

“But I need to know what you want. Here, everyone typically knows what they want.”

“We want the best. Isn’t that a good enough answer?”

No doubt it was. And the waiter, rather than complaining again, accepted the fact that the foreign couple was placing their trust in him. Which was an incredible responsibility, but at the same time, an incredible joy. “And what would you like to drink?”

“The best local wine. Nothing European; we’re in Asia, after all.”

They were dining in Asia, together, for the first time in their lives! “Unfortunately we don’t serve alcoholic beverages here. Strict religious regulations.”

“Turkey is a secular country, is it not?”

“Yes, but the owner is religious.” If they wanted to change restaurants, they could find what they were looking for two blocks away. Two blocks away they would have their wine but lose the magnificent view of Istanbul bathed in moonlight. Karla asked herself if she could manage to say everything she wanted to say without drinking. Paulo didn’t hesitate—this would be a dinner without wine.

The waiter brought a red candle inside a metal lantern, lit it in the center of the table, and while all this happened, neither of them said a thing. They imbibed the surrounding beauty and were soon drunk with it.

“We were telling each other about the days we had. You said you started off toward the bazaar to find me but soon changed your mind. A good thing, because I wasn’t at the bazaar. We’ll go tomorrow, together.”

She was behaving quite differently, remarkably mellow—which wasn’t typical of her. Had she found someone and needed to share her experience?

“You begin. You left there saying you were going after a religious ceremony. Did you find one?”

“Not exactly what I was looking for, but I found something.”