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Friday was Tom Davis' last day on campus. I worked in the morning, and Dennis Arnold came by and suggested we take Davis out for lunch. We were able to get Dan, and that was it, since both Lovett and Epting, for one reason or another would not go.
I called for a taxi, and while we were waiting sat on the front porch of Barton Hall, taking pictures of Tommy and Ertem standing in front of Tom's van, and a close-up of Tommy Davis saying "alligator", which has been his and Ertem's nickname for me for the last year-and-a-half.
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The taxi dropped us at Karaca in Rumeli Hisar, we were able to get a table on the outside by an open window, took pictures of each other lunching in the sun, and bought some delicious, perfectly ripened raspberries from a vendor who came slouching down the sidewalk with them swinging from a yoke over his shoulders. The management presented Tom with a bottle of wine, I guess in honor of his faithful and enthusiastic patronage, and we all hopped back into a cab to return for "The Last Faculty Meeting".
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Which was the usual farce of continuous translation, meaningless debate among the Turkish faculty, and resigned boredom among those at the back of the room. John Chalfant was his usual ironic good-humored self, up at the front of the room, except for a scowl when I stood on a chair in the back to get a photo.
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After the faculty meeting there was a farewell tea for John Chalfant out on the terrace, lemonade and pastries, and the Turks pushed ahead into the line like they usually do.
Tom and the Davises left Saturday morning, around 630AM. Ed and I put our heads together Friday night and decided that the only way for me to say goodbye to Tom and his family would be to spray them with our fire hose. I was up right at 6, peering out our living room window, watching Tom and the kids shuttling up and down, getting the last few things loaded into the van. Got Whitmore out of bed when I thought the time was close, and just as they were all climbing in, had him turn it on while I handled the nozzle. It didn't quite reach, but I got my point across, and just as the van was going out of the yard, Tom gave me a long "CLARKSON!"
It turns out that it is a Turkish tradition to throw a little water toward someone leaving on a journey "so that they may flow like a stream".
Saturday, later on in the day, I went to the bazaar with Dan Golden, Rick Epting, and Dennis, in Rick's car. Said farewell to Michel the rug dealer, and Dan and I took him to lunch; at the Havuzlu.
Tuesday morning I went downtown, to Cağaloğlu, to try and get a visa from the Iranian Consulate. Showed up at around 11, took the 10:05 boat from Arnavutkoy, and I was turned away. Have to get there at 9AM.
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Continued on up the hill to the bazaar and went to see if Josef had found this special pipe for me. There's an American around trying to get a thousand meerschaum pipes with marijuana leaves carved on them made for him to import to the States and Josef had said he could get me one. Josef had gotten married this weekend, and of course he's off on his honeymoon. Hadn't thought.
Next morning I caught an earlier bus and got down to the Iranian Consulate around 930. Three or 4 young westerners, Germans it turned out, and a whole crowd of Pakistanis standing around on the street. Hot morning. The little side door opened and all of us westerners were rushed to the front of the line. When one of the Pakistanis finally was able to move up, the guard pushed him back and said "Ankara". The Pakistanis wouldn't go away though, Oriental persistence and patience I guess, and just kept pushing their passports and themselves forward. Finally even the policeman on guard at the door got into the act, saying "Ankara, Ankara", and motioning them away.
By this time it was my time to get in, they only let us in one at a time, I got my form filled it out, went back in, and was told I needed photographs, and to bring them at 3. Came back at 3:30 with the photos, and my visa was all ready, a gratis, 3-month, multiple-entry visa, good until some time in 1981. I guess I'm favored because the consul's kids go to school at the Community School.
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Wednesday night 5 of us went down to dinner at Kaptan's. Got a nice window table, and as we were eating, ferries pulled in and out from the dock next door, and a thunderstorm began, which made us close the window. We got a look at Kaptan's new summer-time prices, also.
Thursday night was the farewell dinner for my roommate, Ed Whitmore. Wolfgang has been calling nearly every night, all week, making and then canceling dates for dinner. He backed out on us again tonight.
Tuesday night now, I've gotten my dates screwed up, Phil Esposito threw a farewell cook-out for Dan and I, out on the lawn in front of Konak. A lot of Phil's Turkish friends came, and cooked flat bread and Adana köfte over the coals, and there was ayran to drink, salad, wine, and fruit, ice cream and cake for dessert. Diana Lee was there, and Lee Haskins told me about her drive to Kabul last summer. One of Phil's friends is a mate on a Turkish Maritime Lines freighter, and asked me a lot of questions trying to understand which, where, and how big ports on the west coast were, and how close I lived to any of them.
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I've been spending a couple of hours of every day for the last week packing, which is really for me mostly a process of throwing things away. I was $300 over the limit coming out, and I'm trying real hard to be under the limit going home, so I can use as much money as possible for traveling. Ertuğrul Bey has been hurrying me and hurrying me to finish and tell him how many and how big my boxes are, and Thursday I finished, but all of a sudden there was no rush to get them out of my apartment and into the crates. Apparently he only wanted the measurements, but I had to get everything packed before I knew. "Hurry up and wait."
Back to Thursday night and Ed's farewell dinner...we took a taxi to Karaca in Rumeli Hisar and had dinner there, I, Dennis and Danny along with Ed. Afterwards we went from store to store down the street looking for a particular frozen chocolate candy I crave, and then sat out on the shore on a bench, watching boats go by. Bent over old fellow in a turban and carrying a cane staggered up to us - you learn in the US to be very abrupt with these old "bums", since they're usually drunks, but I restrained myself this time - turned out the guy claimed to be a Bektashi. Offered him a pastry, which he refused, and he was quite sober besides, so I had to take him seriously to an extent. Seemed quite cheerful in his poverty.
Friday night Dan, Dennis and Dave and I got a taxi to the Marine House. Hot night, damp, we got there around 8, and the stereo was already turned WAY up and 3 or 4 people dancing wildly. I bolted down 3 cheeseburgers, 2 tuna fish sandwiches and 3 or 4 rum and cokes, and Dan and I left to go to the Çiçek Pasaj.
On the walk over there Dan told me about his visit to Büyükada with Lale Levi, a beautiful Lycee III student of his. Apparently Dan left her heartbroken. She'll be going to school in England next year, and it seems quite possible to me that she'll take advantage of the cheaper fares, and Dan will be getting a visit.
The Pasaj was really wild Friday night. The end of a hot week. Got into one of those very drunken Turkish-American brotherhood between peoples conversations, with 4 Turkish workers.
Because Saturday is such a crowded day downtown, I stayed on campus. Typed cover letters for resumes. Ran some laps. Read out on the patio.
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