GOOOOOOOL!

Yesterday night, I went to watch what is the equivalent of a Raiders vs. Chargers game. Except this time, it didn't drag on for four hours and I wasn't seated next to pot-bellied men in a crowded sports bar. And it was a soccer game, (or match as I am constantly reminded by my friends.)

In Turkey, soccer is the sport of choice. So each major city and even minor one, have their own teams. In Istanbul, there are three major teams: Galatasaray, Fenerbahçe, and Beşiktaş. There are smaller teams in each neighborhood as well, but those are the giants. They've been around since 1900, so it's safe to say, they are well established. Within each family, there can be numerous supporters of each team. Take mine for example. My cousin religiously supports Fenerbahçe, while the other cousin and my uncle are a fans of Galatasaray. My brother, I guess trying to go for the middle ground, is a supporter of Beşiktaş.

These "differences" in our family can actually make things quite tense and awkward when it comes around game time, especially between the Galatasaray and Fenerbahçe fans (these two teams have the biggest rivalry.) For example, my Fenerbahçe worshipping cousin refuses to invite my Galatasaray loving uncle to his apartment to watch the game.

We've all come to accept these idiosyncrasies though, and everybody ends up having a good time.

Moving on,

Sunday was the big match, Fenerbahçe and Galatasaray. My friend, Can S, invited me to watch the game on previously mentioned Karaoke night. So with my brother in tow, I set off to Ataköy to meet up with my friends and watch the game. I should mention that no girls attended, because that is the sad state of things (a post on that later.)

My father and uncle, out of the goodness of their hearts, decided to drive us to Ataköy, which is about a 7 minute ride in the car, and 10 minute on the mini-bus or dolmuş. Unfortunately, neither my uncle or dad knows what Ataköy looks like at night, so we were a bit lost. I called my friends, confusion ensued in the direction given. I could hear my father getting annoyed by the minute, so I told him to let my brother and I off; we could walk and meet up with my friends. I opened the door before he could change his mind, and off we were finally. I called my friend and our conversation went something like this:

"Alo?"

"Hey, Can, it's Alia. So my dad dropped us off at the taxi station, how do we get to the place from here?"

"Okay, okay, wait. *Laughter heard in background* Just wait. We come get you." Phone line dead.

My brother and I chat relatively excited and nervous. We look around, inspecting every passerby. 4 or 5 minutes later, my phone rings.

"Hey Can."

"Hi, Alia, okay. We are coming. But turn left at the taxi station and walk. We are walking towards you."

Me, thinking: "The road doesn't turn left."

Me, talking: "Oh, okay... Do you mean right?"

Phone seems to be fumbled around, new voice over phone: "Alo, Aliye?"

"Hi."

"Are you facing the taxi?"

"Yes, I'm facing the taxi station. Am I at the right one? It says Ataköy Merkezi Taksi Station."

"Okay, yes, yes. Go to the left of the taxi station. Left at it. *Laughter*"

"Alright, I'm walking. To the left. I think."

"Okay, okay, don't worry. We are coming. You will see us."

"Okay, yes. I'm walking."

"You went left? You will see us."

"Yes, yes I went left." To my brother: "Do you think we're going the right way?"

A few minutes later, we came across a group of boyz from my school. After the awkward initial wave, and the informal introduction of my brother, we headed towards some place called the Kultur Klubu or something like that. I think it was a place for all attendees and attendants of Kultur schools. We all crowded into the bar stools. I ended up sharing seats with Yigit, who has the unfortunate habit of constantly bouncing his leg, and my brother. I ordered myself a water, a coke for my brother, and proceeded to watch the game.

The match itself was relatively exciting, although Fenerbahçe did seem to be playing better than Galatasaray. But that's neither here nor there. After clapping, a little bit of yelling, and standing up on my seat, the game ended. My brother left halfway because he was tired, so I was on my own for getting home. It was about 10:15 or so when the game came to a close. We walked out, and I called my father to come pick me up. Of course, I was unable to reach him.

Trying to look cool, and know what I was doing, I followed my friends, desperately trying to reach my father. I could have taken a taxi, but I figured it'd be easier (not to mention safer) for all parties if my dad came and picked me up. Little did I know that I would regret this situation.

First obstacle, where should my dad pick me? My friend Sercan solved this one with Cumihuriyet (I know I slaughtered that one) Lisesi, a big highschool in Ataköy close to where we were. I was finally able to reach my dad, tell him the meeting place, and congratulate myself on a job well done. He said he'd be there in 5 minutes.

I should have realized that 5 minutes in my family is equal to about 15 or even 20 minutes normal time. I should also have realized that my turkish friends would wait for my dad to come pick me up, and not just one. All 10 of them. Sigh, those chivalrous fellows.

So here I was waiting for my dad, with 10 or so turkish boys, some of them not so sober, at 10:30 at night. Did I mention they had an exam in the morning? I was terribly embarrassed, to say in the least. After 2 frantic calls to the father, he arrived 15 minutes after said "5" minutes. I hastily waved goodbye, and slid into the car, not so gracefully.

I arrived home, tired, but happy. I guess [turkish] boys aren't so bad after all.