Bulgaria...Romania

I entered Bulgaria on the 25th of June, my plan was to look for hostel to work at while I was there (I had emailed many, but found that they only give work if you walk in). I still had not made up my mind about where I should head from Sofia, Bulgaria, I had one job offer in Slovenia, at Lake Bled, and one offer in Bucharest, Romania. One was in the Schengen Area, the other, outside of the Schengen, which, if you look up the issues relating to being an American and entering the Schengen Area, you may understand my wanting to put it off for a bit. The rule goes like this: As a U.S. citizen, you can only be in the countries that have signed the Schengen Agreement for a total of 90 days within 180 days…meaning you can only travel between those 26 countries for 90 days before you have to leave.
So here’s my issue…I chose Romania because of the history, I was fascinated by Vlad Tepes, as many people are, and decided that working in Bucharest should give me a chance to see areas of Romania, like Brasov and Sibiu, thus making working in Romania worth it. I was wrong.

I made an agreement with a certain hostel that I would be working on the beach in Vama Veche, instead, when I got to the hostel, they decided to bounce me between two different hostels, meaning i would work at the hostel I slept at in the morning, then jump on the metro to the other hostel to work until 10:30 PM, or until some ungodly hour if someone hadn’t shown up yet. What I get in exchange for this work is crap, pretty useless…
My attitude has changed, I haven’t felt free, and if I am supposed to have time off, and the owner walks into the hostel I am at, I have to start cleaning because I get yelled at, so, no time off for me, I have been here a month, and only three days ago had my first full day off. This hostel is a quiet one, no hope for a party, no hope for fun, no excitement, just frustration, and no time to myself, so here I am, one month into this, and I still haven’t seen the historical things that would have made this worth while. I have only stayed in Bucharest, which most people bypass as there is nothing worth staying for here.
I am ready to leave, and as of now, am currently looking for my next hostel…my next party hostel. It looks as though I will be entering the Schengen Area much sooner than I had wanted, but you don’t always get what you want, and I am a firm believer in “everything happens for a reason.” I will stay the 90 days in the Schengen, between three different countries (which countries, I have no idea of) then hopefully will be able to crack into the UK…which also has an iffy entrance situation for me!

Part 8

I arrived at the hostel in Sultanahmet, which is the area of main attraction in Istanbul. Immediately, the owner and receptionist were aware of my situation. I was told to hang out for three days before they would get me trained for work. I got to know the people I would be working with, and befriended many hostel goers. Then, about two days into my stay, the owner pulled me aside, “you will work as a host, make people happy, sell beer and water, take them clubbing, talk, and nothing else, you are here to make the people have a good time. Hours will be from 7 PM to 2 AM” (At this time I will not talk about whether I got paid or not due to certain reasons, however, I did get breakfast and a bed to stay in.)
So, I am safe, I am working, which not only am I making people have fun, I am having fun. We were to play loud music until 1:30 AM as per the owner’s instructions, and so there I was, blasting my favorite music, singing and dancing along to it freely, in front of dozens of people, getting them to join in. The next thirty days consisted of nights of playing “Psychologist,” drinking lots of beer, taking people to “Araf,” a gypsy club in Taksim, and taking advantage of my freedom.
I learned during this time, that life doesn’t need to be so bad. You don’t have to follow the normal 9 to 5 idea of work, and if you are not having fun, there is no reason to waste your time, your life. I am free, and I will use my time wisely, I will take advantage of life completely, waste no time in a place that I am unhappy.
I also realized that I would go through all of this again, knowing what I know now. I never would have had the chance, or the guts, to travel Europe alone, but because these things happened, a whole slew of doors have open wide for me. I have decided to hostel jump, and this is how I am getting through Europe. I will be able to see much more than originally planned, and who knows when I will make it back to the United States, maybe in six months, maybe a year…I am not in a rush to get back to a place that I have no home. The odd part about this, is that I am strangely comforted by the fact that I have no idea where I will be…at any given time. I am not making plans, they seem to fall through anyway, as they say “If you want to make God laugh, tell him your plans.”

Part 7

So, by now you may think that if I were smart, I wouldn’t jump into a random persons car and go to their home…desperate situations call for desperate measures; so I got into that car and went home with Songul and her husband. What else was I supposed to do?
When I got to their home, Songul immediately tried to make me feel comfortable, she gave me a bowl of cherries, turned on the TV for me, and began hugging me, telling me everything would be okay (in Turkish, of course). Her daughter, who is about 12 years old, came in the home about 30 minutes later from school. She immediately took to calling me “Abla,” which means sister, its a term of endearment. That girl decided she must show me off at her school, and the next day, that is where I went. At the school, there was a sea of dark hair, olive skin, and Hijabs, and here I was, very light colored skin, and blond hair, I definitely looked foreign.
I grew pretty attached to the family in the short time I was with them, and they seemed attached as well. The mother wanted to set me up with one of her sons, and the daughter was always all over me.  I knew though, at some point, I needed work, sooner rather than later. I had about 30 days left on my Turkish visa, and practically knew there would be no way in which to get enough money in one month to get back to the U.S….that is if I actually wanted to go back.
At night I began to panic about my situation, I couldn’t live off of these people who had very little, and I needed money to get out of the country in 30 days or less. My savior was a website called “CouchSurfing.” I posted in the Istanbul section a bit of my problem, and asked for help on solutions, if anyone knew of any work, or place to stay for a bit. Many responses were very cruel, however some where helpful. One in particular told me to try Harmony Hostel in Sultanahmet.
I told the family about the hostel and told them I might have work and a bed there waiting, but they didn’t seem too thrilled. I explained to them (through Kazim) that I needed work, and that taking me to this hostel would be the best help for my situation. They called the hostel themselves to see that it was legitimate, so they could protect me from further harm, as well as Googled it, and found it to be real. The next day, Kazim had his driver take me from Istinye, Istanbul to Sultanahmet, the old town.

Part 6

I was on my way to the U.S. Consulate when I snapped what I thought would be my last picture of Turkey

So here I am, dragging all my belongings, along with my sorrows, and the funny feeling that I have been in this situation before, just not on the other side of the world. What to do next? I decided to bypass many markets and convenience stores, until I arrived to one in particular…there seemed to be a voice that told me go go ahead and enter it. Little did I know, this would be my salvation!
I entered the convenience store and took one look around, it was just me and the store keeper (whom I later learned his name is Mustafa). And this is where I break down. Poor Mustafa didn’t speak a word of English, and here I am an American girl sobbing about her sorrows to a stranger who doesn’t speak English…I look back on this and laugh quite a bit.
He called someone that knew English and told them to come over as soon as possible (that’s what I gathered from what Turkish I knew at the time) then he ordered food for me, a lot of it! His friend who spoke English showed up and asked me what I wanted to do, I couldn’t seem to get through the sobs and the chewing so he made me set aside the food, and told me that crying wont solve anything, to which I responded that, yes, it would. I just needed to get the panic out of my system for ten minutes, then all will be fine.
I was finally able to spit out my situation to the man, the poor guy had no idea what to do with me, but he knew the first most important thing for me to do was to get my passport back from the U.S. embassy. He then took me to the restaurant that he owned and handed me 125 Lira. I then ran to the U.S. embassy and smart mouthed to the country that was supposed to protect its citizens, not make problems worse. They asked how I magically had money all of the sudden, to which I replied that the a Turk took pity on me when my own country decided to turn its back. As you can imagine, he rolled his eyes.
I then ran back to the restaurant and attempted to pretend I wasn’t tired, I slammed a lot of black tea, but the man, his name was Kazim, saw right through me, he pointed to a spot where I could lie down outside by a table without being bothered, and I crashed.
About three or four hours later, I awoke. Kazim introduced me to a woman that was sitting with him, her name was Songul, and told me that she and her husband would like me to come stay with them, not to work, not to do anything, but to relax and detox my brain from the situations I had gotten out of. Of course, right away I said no. I was scared, and at this moment, realized I could not enter into another persons home without having an anxiety attack.