My Friend!

In response to something @Tenderiser said in the Things you didn't know you didn't know thread:

That's funny. My best friend out here is English, my textbooks are split about 50/50 between American and British English, and I know that, when I go back home, my friends occasionally comment on my speech patterns, but I didn't know I could do UK-iain online as well.

True story: I did a summer study abroad in Istanbul when I was in college. The first day I arrived, the moment I stepped out of my hotel, I was accosted by a rug merchant. In Sultanahmet, which is the prime tourist destination in all of Istanbul. It looks like this if you look one direction:



And like this, if you turn the other way:
Istanbul has been a trading crossroads city for millenia; the people there know how to buy and sell. So this guy walks up to me and says "Hello, America! Welcome to Istanbul, please, come with me!" and takes me to his rug shop. I tell him it's my first day, I'm not buying anything my first day, not going to happen, so he takes me to his uncle's rug shop, which has a better selection. We have tea at both places, I admire the rugs, but continue not to buy anything. Finally, he says "You really aren't buying today, are you? Okay, let's go drinking," and takes me to a series of open-air bars and bufes (standing places where you can get a beer, soda, fresh-grilled kebap, whatever). He pays for most of it, only allowing me to buy one or two drinks, because the Turks are a hospitable people, and once he saw I wasn't a customer, I became a guest.

We'll meet him again later.

So I was in Istanbul for about two months. Towards the end of my stay, a friend and I decided to visit Aya Sofia again. Outside the museum, there's always a small crowd of licensed and unlicensed tour guides, looking to add some value to your trip and cash to their pockets. Fair enough. The first guy, that first day, had taken one look at me and known I was American. When I went there again, years later, with Mrs. A, they'd call "Hey, Japonais!" to her, somehow being able to tell that the Asian girl with the white guy didn't have a hyphen after "Asian", and further narrow it down to Japan.

But near the end of my first trip, as I was walking up to church-mosque-museum, a tour guide called out to me "Deutsch, nein?"

I shook my head no, and kept my mouth shut.

"Russki?"

Another shake.

"Ah, Aussie mate?"

Mm-mm.

So he ran down the list of every place a white person could plausibly come from, never hitting on America.

I'd lost the walk, I wasn't invisible, but I was stealthy as hell, and that's a good thing.

Anyway, remember my friend the rug merchant from my first day? Six or so years later, when Mrs. A and I were honeymooning, we were on our way up to Beyazit when I saw a face amongst all the other Turkish faces that looked familiar. He smiled and said "Iain! You're back! I have a new shop. Come with me, yes?"