TURKS ARE FRIENDS

It was a day of at 5.6. in Germany. Pfingsmontag. It is a Monday of Holy Spirit according to Google. However, it ment a day without lorries for me. Or at least it was supposed to be.

One of the lorries had its engines running and a guy was walking a round, probably the driver. It was 8 AM and completely silence on a Berlin circle. It was worth of a try at least.

„Are you driving today?“ I asked a control question in German.

„Heute, heute.“ Guy nodded and repeated the word today. Obviously, it was the only one he understood from my sentence.

„Are you driving somewhere near Hamburg?“ I tryed in English.

„Hamburg, Hamburg.“ Ok, English neither. At least I knew he was driving that day and his destination was Hamburg.

Using hands and all my language skills I managed to make an agreement with him.

„Turkey.“ He told me when saw that I was trying to read his  evidence number on a lorry.

„I am from Slovakia.“

„Slovakia ja! I go Slovakia. Hamburg load up, tomorrow back Berlin, Czech republic, Slovakia, Hungaria, Romenia und Turkey. You go Slovakia?“

„No. I need to get only to Hamburg.“

„Ok Hamburg.“ He smiled and went back to his pots and food. He was evidently cooking something. I decided to wait away.  

There is a tiny flipping platform at the side of the lorry, which can be used as a table. Behind this platform, there is a place for a gas burner, pots and a boxes full of food. He was sitting on a small wooden chair and cooking soup and a tee. All of a sudden he put out a newspaper, open it on the floor and sit down on it, inviting me to sit on his wooden chair. I refused so he came and took me.

He put one more spoon in his plate with soup and ask me to try it.

„I have eaten already, thank you.“ I thought it was a solid argument. He eider did not understand me or he did not want to understand.

„Turkish. Turkish.“ He keep repeating and waving with the spoon.  

In a little while I had bread in my hand, of course Turkish.

This mystery soup was spicy and really tasty. Anyway, I did not succeed in finding out it’s consistence. All of my questions were answered by „ja“ and a huge smile.

I started an easier conversation.

„Marta“ I pointed at myself.

„You?“

„Ayhan“

„Can I selfie?“ he asked me after a while.  

„Sure.“ I made few myself.  

We have finished with the soup. Ayhan’s tee was ready for drinking. It does not seems like I have a choice. It was delicious. Black. Exactly like the one Ahmed once made me. I was only starting to be nervous because I was not sure anymore, that he’s leaving today. It was almost 11 AM.

„Familia, familia. Son. He come here. Son from Berlin. I give something to him and go Hamburg.“

His son has really came. Ayhan gave him some boxes with sherries and had a little talk with him. Then we finally started to prepare ourselves for the journey. I was given some cherries too. When I was not able to eat anymore, he put the rest in my bag. Cherry is kiras in Turkish.

Degustation continued in a car. First some Turkish mineral water, than some red juice. Approximately 5 minutes later I really needed to pee. How should I translate that to a Turkish guy? He get it in a very last moment.

The rest of our journey went easy. I learned that he has a daughter, who is 16 (we’ve been writing the numers with finger) also that he’s living in a city called Antalia. (firstly I thought that it’s a name of his daughter) I gave him some wafer bars HORALKA, as a typical Slovak sweet for exchange.

Did you know that freedom taste like a Turkish soup, looks like a highway from Berlin and feels like shoulders burned from sun?

I hitch-hiked another Turkish guy, one young German women and a family of Jehovists on my way from Hamburg. All of them were great. All of them were friends.