Being The Other Woman: Who we are, what every woman should know and how to avoid us Read Online Free PDF Page A

not be bothered by him but to pay him to watch for the police. We ran down the spiral staircase as fast as we could and along the cobbled bridge with him chasing after us yelling, “Policia! Policia!” I stepped into the path of an oncoming cab and when he screeched to stop, I grabbed the door handle and we jumped in. I do not know what the laws are in Turkey, but rumors of Turkish whores being beheaded were worth the risk of a broken leg.
    One of the studies that Blake and I made together was on Homer’s Iliad . It was only right, therefore, that we took a tour to what may be the site of the Trojan War. To our surprise, the cheap tour consisted of our own Mercedes bus with a personal driver and also a private tour guide. We visited several ruins, had lunch, and stayed overnight in a town called Assos. Actually, many of the places we visited by chance seemed to have double meaning and correlate to our studies, even as far back as our initial meeting. (Funny, but I just realized so did Assos, pronounced the way our Mexican friend Alex said assholes.) This we took as a divine affirmation from the universe that we were meant to be together. After our visit to Troy, we stopped at the edge of the Black Sea for lunch and I began to get acquainted with our tour guide on a more personal level. We spoke of his Muslim upbringing, his culture, political passions and his life. He shared with me a story of old Turkish women and their belief in reading tea leaves. His grandmother had taught him how to read them himself. I decided to test his fortune telling skills and ordered a cup of tea. After finishing my tea, I was instructed to turn my cup upside down on a saucer, spin a penny around the top and then flip it right side up again. When I turned my cup over, the image inside looked like a man with a hunched back slumping over a cane. Behind him, was a depressed blob resembling a woman with long hair and three small remnants of sludge were behind her, as well. To the other side, the man with a cane faced something that looked like a shapely woman standing tall with visible breasts and holding her hand out, cupping a ball. It looked like she held the world in her hands. “It looks like three people.” The tour guide said. Blake and I looked at each other with freakish shock and decided it was time to move forward with the tour. To this day, I can still see with clarity the vision in that tea cup. I have always wondered which of us is the woman who held the world in her hands.
    Assos was just across the ocean from Greece. It was a stony little town and we felt we had stepped back in time. Our bus hurled down a dirt road and, seeing us approach, a woman scooped her child up along with a handful of rocks to toss at the sheep blocking our path. We drove up a mountain side to something resembling a bar, passing old men sitting in rocking chairs, smoking pipes and playing backgammon. We also passed a man pulling his donkey with straw piled on its back. When we arrived at our hotel we found another mesmerizing, romantic scene. We sat overlooking the ocean just in time to watch a Mediterranean sunset. In the morning, we dined outdoors by the ocean and watched the Greek Air Force fly drills across the waters. Feral cats surrounded us, taking grabs at our fish breakfast. One actually bit Blake’s finger in retaliation for his attempt to scare them away with hissing.
    We walked through many bazaars while fighting off venders who would yell “Hey you, American!” while promising “Special price for you today.” Broadening my cultural understanding, as well as paying money for each square of toilet paper at potty time, bonded me with Blake in many humorous ways. Every day in Turkey was a life-changing experience and to this day we remember each minute of that trip with humor and nostalgia.
    After we left Istanbul, our flight laid over for one day in London, a perfect place to acclimate ourselves for our return to America. As we walked the busy