Vacationing In Turkey
A balmy day in the Ottoman byzantine far away from the gritty Manhattan jungle. My day stands idly in the center of Istanbul, a vacation as they call this, breathing smoky kebabs into my nostrils as bathhouse workers slap steam off my back with delicate force.
Here is a confession; I don’t know how to “vacation”. Separating leisure and work has always been a blurry task for myself. And then of course, everyone will ask for their Turkish coffee fortune to be read. So, what to do?
But first, a story.
A million hands reached out to me in Taksim Square, begging for an answer to the same question — “Honeybrew abi, falima bakarmisin?”. Which means what you think it means. — “read my fortune, or else”.
Honestly, fine. If reading Turkish coffee fortune is enough to make the world happy, then OK. Even if be during my vacation.
My heart remains open despite the energy toll. For I sing to every butterfly searching for their next destination in life. I must do this. May serendipity deliver these wild wings to East Village, where “Turkish Coffee Room” occurs every weekend.
You can reserve a seat here if you’re planning on traveling to New York City. Use the code “HONEYONMYCHEST” for 10% off.
God given gifts should be dispensed abundantly. The imbalance of the world, or rather, the struggle between aristocracy and poverty, lies within the naked truth that those who hold power, horde power, so that they may remain in power. I do not wish for my life to be a proponent of this malady.
Therefore, I want to share everything I have. But maybe make a buck while I’m at it too. Oh, the irony. This is why in “The Turkish Coffee Room” I often give away money. Yes. Anywhere from $100 to even $500. No joke. You can have it. I have more money coming my way in life in other ways then you know. Attend a session and see for yourself.
Getting back to the story.
On my day of arrival in Turkey, I walked in a daze of jet lag through the tunnels of Mecidiyeköy, turning my sight onto a beautiful but very unhappy girl sweeping garbage outside of a candy store. I peered elsewhere, this time another girl, standing under a cold facade of frightening lights, waiting hopelessly next to her travel catalogues as a million souls rushed next to her without acknowledgment.
Even in my extreme tiredness, had either of these girls recognized me as the famous fortune teller of New York City, and asked for a Turkish coffee fortune reading — I would have no choice but to say “OK”.
I wish for these girls find happiness in what they do.
This is why I am always reminded of my privilege in New York City as a successful psychic while vacationing in Turkey. I can not help it. If the least I can do is to read the fortunes of those who are in need, then so be it. Gratitude is what keeps me alive.
Turkey can have my fortunes and America my wallet. And maybe one day, I can have a vacation.
