Nazim

The ferry was leaving Lesvos and we could already see the coast of Turkey. It has been many years since the last time I had visited Ayvalik with my family. I only had vague memories of the market and a woman looking for a church that her great grandfather built almost a century ago. This time me and one of my best friends went together. It was the first time for him. Standing in the ship's open deck, I saw her. Now a vaguely remember her after 4 years. But I can still remember her tanned skin and her short hair. She seemed confident. She realised I was looking at her and it seems like she was waiting for me to talk to her. After my friend convinced me I approached her. Standed next to her on the deck's porch. She seemed to be smiling when I approached her, she was still waiting. I tried to see her face clearly. The air was moving her hair and covering her face. I tried to see her eyes. She was wearing a pair of sunglasses, making it impossible for me to see her eyes. Now if I would guess I would have said her eyes were green. At that moment I realised that I have been looking at her for a long time and that without talking to her I must have seemed like a real weirdo. So I took the mature choice of turning around and walking back to my friend, without saying anything to her. After ten minutes she left and I never saw her again.

We were now approaching the small post of Ayvalik. I could already see a few Mosques and some Turkish flags. I looked at my friend and I realised that we did not have any plan. We did not know what to do or what to see. So we decided to wander around the city. The first thing I remember after leaving the ferry was the smell of cooked fish. Something that was explained from the seafood restaurants covering the whole promenade of the city's seafront. We continued to the market, which was inside the small streets of Ayvalik. To be honest it was not something fancy, quite the contrary. It looked more like a farmer's market with regular people going to buy their vegitables. There were some small tourist shops with small souvenirs and at least, I decided to get something from there. Since taking something from the farmer's market, seemed a bit pointless. When I entered the first shop the owner start shouting at me something in Turkish. The fact that I might be looking like an average Turkish person, even though I am Greek, might had convinced him that I was Turkish. When I replied to him in English, he did not understand anything, but he definitely looked confused. I smiled back at him and left the shop without buying anything. This was my second failure but I still was optimistic. After doing some circles in the market I decided to go to a small cafe or something similar for a cold coffee or tea. My friend seemed to agree since the heat was awful and the city did not hide as many surprises as we expected. At least for now.

Randomly in the middle of a street, we found a small "Oasis". It was a small shisha cafe with coaches and chairs in the street covering the small alley. The vine leaves were connected from the roof, offering a small breeze and a nice shadow, in the middle of July. We decided to sit awkwardly since this was not a place for tourists, but rather for locals. Who were already looking us weird. I smiled and sat down. Again maybe the fact that I looked a bit Turkish might have helped us blend into the whole atmosphere. My first observation was a big newspaper someone left at the table, after finishing their shisha. "Hurriyet" I could see with bolt letters, and under it something about football. I was looking at the pages, while my friend was looking confused at the menu, which was in full Turkish. Eventually, a middle-aged man, came to us smiling. His first words were in Turkish, something that made me laugh and probably disappointed my friend. After a few seconds, he realised that we did not understand anything and I said to him "English?". It was a question that I already knew the answer, he smiled and seemed to be saying no. I smiled back and with my small knowledge of Turkish words, I said "tamam", in English, ok. I tried two order tea, but every time I was saying tea he looked even more confused, at that moment, I turn to my friend and say, "Kostas, do you remember how we say tea in other languages?". Of course, I was speaking greek at that moment and the Greek word for tea was chai. The same in Turkish. When he heard me saying he immediately smiled and said tea! He seemed as excited as I was, and I appreciate his effort. I could see through his eyes that he was a warm-hearted person. The next order was easy, by looking at the menu, I said the only word I recognised from the menu for the shisha flavours. And that Rose. After we ordered he left and shortly afterwards his little sun, around 12 to 14 years old, brought us the chai and the shisha. I felt like I had accomplished something for two reasons. The first one being that I managed to order, and secondly because I convinced my best friend to try shisha for the first time. After a while, with my enjoying the shisha and ordering tea around three times, we decide to leave and continue our small walks around the city before we catch the ferry back.

A few minutes after we left the shisha cafe, I started feeling nauseous and dizzy. It was the moment I understood that the shisha might be too strong, and the child bringing those big charcoals that looked more like charcoals for a 19th-century train and not for a shisha. I looked at my friend and asked him if he was feeling good. He replied to me that he feels the same as me. We decided to walk and wait for it to stop. I do not know if this was the shisha, but I had the idea of buying a book in Turkish. And not a random book, but rather a book of the great Turkish poet, Nazim Hikmet. Well, for those who do not know, let's say that Turkey is not and was not at a political stability at that moment. Many leftist and communists, as well as democratic and liberal citizens, were and still are prosecuted by the Erdogan regime. At that moment, I did not seem to care and decided to go into every bookstore I could find and ask for a book of Nazim Hikmet. Before reaching the first bookstore I passed for the street of the first picture and so the beggar. He seemed to be waiting in an empty street without many people passing by. It seemed to me surreal in a sense. The old abandoned houses from the past century, a few cars and some graffiti on the walls. And then the beggar, alone, waiting for something that might never come.

I reached the first bookstore and got in. It seemed more like a vintage store and it truly was. I still remember the random pictures and paintings on the walls. he dusted tables full of books and any small thing that someone could imagine. I approach the owner, who looks at me weirdly. my first words in English seemed to be pointless since he did not understand anything. I grab a random book and say to him Nazi Hikmet? By showing the book in front of his face. This made him even more confused or even defensive. I smiled and grabbed a small ashtray. Like I felt that I should change the subject. He said the price in Turkish and I did not understand anything. I saw a small notebook and a pen next to the dusty table and decided to write down the price. I wrote the price I believed it was suited and he wrote another price back, I looked at him and wrote another price. Eventuallly, we found the price and I paid him. Before leaving the shop, I had a small look at a book that was really cheap. It seemed like a cooking recipe book. I left it down and left. Passing through the second Bookstore, I stopped and watched a small stand of old pictures. I liked them, but I felt awkward getting in a bookstore again, after my last experience. Eventually, after the convincing methods of my friend, I decided to get into the bookstore. And there I saw her, no, not her from the ferry. The owner of the bookstore. For a weird reason, she seemed really similar to the girl on the ferry. She had short hair and tanned skin. For another reason, remembering her face seems even more difficult to me, but I still remember everything we discussed. I did not know if she noticed me. I was looking in the books at the bookshelves, hoping that I might find any book of Nazim Hikmet, but it was pointless for one more time. I did not find anything. I stood looking at a bookshelf and waiting for everyone to leave, so I could ask her. When eventually everyone left I approached her. She seemed the only person to realise that I was a foreigner, she looked at me smiled and said "hi" in English. That was my first surprise. I smiled back and asked her awkwardly, sorry could you help me find some books of poetry. She then replied to me, I can, but all the books are in Turkish. It is alright, I said, it is a gift for my father, he can read Turkish. I can't. She seemed to b understanding and showed me a few books. My eyes were gazing at books I could not rea, with only trying to find the name, "Nazim". In the end, I decided to ask her, I looked at her and said "do you have any books of Nazim Hikmet? because I cannot find anything in the bookshlelves". She seemed relaxed something that was pleasant and surprising. She turned to me and said, "yes, but you cannot find these books on bookshelves". After that, like a scene from a movie, she took a small key out of her bag and unlocked a small drawer. She then brought out in front of me a bunch of different Nazim Hikmet books, posters and even leftist magazines. Stuff that till now in Greece you could find anywhere. But as it seemed there it was technically illegal. She smiled then and said to me "choose". After randomly browsing I choose the one in the best condition and with the most interesting cover. Then I asked her, "what is this one talking about?" She said that it is all the letters that Nazim wrote to his wife when he was imprisoned". I then said to her, "this is perfect". For a few seconds we were just looking at each other without saying anything. She decided to break the silence and ask me this; "who are you?". We both laugh and I explained to her again that I was only in Ayvalik for a few hours. Then it was my time to ask her, "who are you?" She introduced herself to me but unfortunately do not remember her name. She told me that she used to be a journalist and that she was working in a newspaper in Istanbul, that closed from the Erdogan regime. After a small discussion about Turkish politics, she asked me, out of nowhere, "do you like movies?" "I do ", I replied, we spend around 20 minutes talking about cinema, her introducing me to some Turkish directors and me, mostly talking about Angelopoulos and Lanthimos. After a while, I realised that I had only half an hour for the last ferry and that my friend probably has been waiting for me, outside the bookstore for almost an hour. I quickly wrote down in a piecie of paper some Greek movies and she did the same in a small piecie of paper that she gave me. I looked at her and said, "I need to go". She smiled and hugged me we kissed each other on the cheek, two times. The last kiss was close to our lips, I felt the urge of kissing her, I still hope she felt the same, I just stood back and smiled for the last time. By mistake a dropped some books down while trying to get out of the door. I smiled and looked at her for one last time. I put the books back and got outside. I found my friend still looking at some pictures. I grabbed him and we left quickly, I turned and looked behind me while we were walking in a small street leading to the port. A saw her talking to some friends who entered the bookstore. I stopped for a second, and felt the urge to go back and not to take the ferry, I turned again and we kept walking to the port. My friend who was suspiciously quiet turns to me and says, "you really liked her, didn't you?"

Sergios Saropoulos