September 2, 1996

With a fresh attitude and clear heads, getting into the city of Ankara wasn't nearly as difficult as we had imagined. We spent over an hour looking for the tourist information office that everyone we asked seemed to have heard of; they could even point us in the right direction (always different). In actuality, it didn't exist. Once we conceded to this fact, the rest of the day went fine. In lieu of information we relied on John Cooper, a retired University professor from Australia. He'd heard us speaking English and come over to see if we could help him locate the mystery tourist information. We couldn't, of course, but his copy of the Turkey Lonely Planet gave us the information we needed (the location of English book stores, embassy addresses, etc.) and we helped him find the city map that he needed. We spent the afternoon together in downtown Ankara. Soon our disorientation disappeared.

The hospitality of the Turks helped. One young man trying to help us find the information center stuck to us like glue until our needs were met. Another man who shined my boots (the best boot shine I've ever had) played charades with me and we talked about hiking, Bill Clinton, and Aruba. Another offered us tea; we were offered boxes and tape; a sample of every kind of olive and feta cheese in one store; we had personal escorts to the post office and smiles every where we went. The Turks may very well be the friendliest people we've ever met.

Toward the end of the day, one final gesture of friendliness helped us locate the infamous campground which had alluded us the night before. We had hot showers, met Amy and Jason from Australia and later Hana and Craig from New Zealand. By the end of the evening all traces of the frustration we had felt the day before were gone.