I have only just returned from a one-week-long trip from London and embarrassingly, I have to admit, I barely went out of Zone 3 during the time I was there. Instead, I spent most of my time standing in the cold waiting for Novak Djokovic – for those who do not know who that is, he’s only the current number one male tennis player in the world – to make an appearance and when I wasn’t doing that, I could probably be found watching one of his matches inside the arena at the O2 in North Greenwich.
We were quite looking forward to our beds after our amazing but quite tiring night adventure and if we weren’t so hungry, we probably would have headed straight to bed without eating anything. Breakfast wasn’t an impressive affair and we half wished we could have ate at one of the many Kurdish cafés we had stopped by during the morning tour.
The plan was to sleep for a bit then take the bus to Adıyaman from where we could then take another bus to Şanlıurfa (or Urfa), which would be our last and final stop for this trip. As much as I wanted to explore more of this side of Turkey, it would have to be for another time. Our driver had an uncle who owned a hotel in Urfa and arranged for us to have an extremely good discount, to which we simply couldn’t say no – because of course it’s completely normal to ask for discounts for someone you’ve only just met.
We’ve finally felt the last drops of rain, or rather downpours in Ankara (hopefully) – only last week I had to buy yet another umbrella which I lost almost immediately – and I’m already in that sleepy summery trance. Which explains my increased caffeine intake these days. You’re welcome, Starbucks. I’m just about to be finished with my Turkish course and every single day it becomes even harder to wake up and go to class. After 800ish hours spent in a claustrophobic room with unopenable windows covering grammar and whatnots over the past 9 months, it’s not wonder that my brain has reached saturation level and is begging for some rest. And the worn out faces on my classmates tells me I’m not the only one feeling it.
My pockets are not deep enough to be able to afford an escape every time I wish (which, let’s admit it, is pretty much all the time) from the mundane Ankaranian life but I did decided I needed some pampering, just enough for that boost I need before the final stretch. So when I saw the advertisement for an Indian Food Festival at the Fire & Flavours restaurant in the JW Mariott Hotel, I knew I just had to go. Even if it meant it was going to be ridiculously expensive.