It was May 16th 1977 in front of Bosfor Turizm office at Mete Caddesi Taksim, Istanbul. The group of people, tourists, gathered to complete their final registration before boarding the bus, Mercedes 0302, that will take them for the Central European Tour of 16 days. They were excited, anxious, and inpatient to get on the bus and meet their drivers and the tour guide who are going to take care of them during this trip and make it a happy memorable event.
Finally, they got on the bus at their first day seats; the seating would be rotating each day giving equal chance for each passenger to share the benefits. Ahmet Bozkurt, the Manager of the Tour Department, my boss, got on the front entrance of the bus with me next to him, in my brown suit and having my slim haircut. He introduced me within 3 minutes talking about my friendly, joyful and caring character; then my strong education at Robert College where I attained my very strong language capability; and finally, my touring experience in Europe with Bosfor Tourism for many trips that I had completed with a very good references from the previous guests that I had accompanied.
While I was building my self-confidence and trust during the first two parts of his speech, I suddenly got shocked and lost all at his last part. The truth was that I had never been abroad before and this would be my first trip as tour guide with Bosfor Tourism.
I jumped down the bus with him and looked at him with my fully opened eyes in shock! Confidently, he assured me of his trust by holding my shoulders and said, “ I trust you, and you have the right attitude to manage this trip. I taught you all theoretically to do at every step. You have your reference file with you and the best company captains –drivers- too.”
Then he hugged me tightly and added, “ Go on, get on with this” while pushing me up into the bus back.
As we were leaving on our trip having Yilmaz Captain at the steering wheel, I faced the group of 20, not full capacity as this was the first tour of the season, and started my “welcoming speech” with the microphone in my hand that I had memorized and know by heart very well. During my speech, as the words were automatically flowing out of my fully dried mouth, my mind was trying to digest the situation where I have to act.
In 1977, there was no highway from Istanbul to Edirne and to the boarder at Edirnekapi, crossing in Bulgaria. On the road, I had to read the touristic announcements as we passed through the towns and points of interests such as the old bridge built by Mimar (architect) Sinan in Silivri during 16th century, the Army barracks in Corlu and Selimiye Mosque in Edirne.
At the boarder, I collected all the passports and the bus registration, insurance papers together with the passenger list and declarations (1977 was the last year that Turkish Citizens were travelling to European countries without visa with the exception of Bulgarian transit visa. However, they were only allowed to have maximum of USD 400.00/year as foreign currency for touristic purposes that they can purchase from the Central Bank at official rates). I knew from my boss’ teachings what to do in order to clear the bus and my group from the immigration and the customs. I rushed through the lines, used my tour guide outfit – I had been told to – to move front in the lines as our company was well known and recognized.
It was the last stage that I had to get the final signature from the officer on my papers for the final clearance to drive out of Turkey. The officer in the booth examined all the paperwork slowly and asked me if I am new at Bosfor Tourism. I nodded but immediately added that I had been taught to make all paperwork according to the requirements so there should not be any problem. He looked at me and said “yes, I agree no major issues to bother, however, I need to correct some wording at the declarations not to cause any problem if we have any inspection.” Then he asked my pen to do so. I gave my personal “Parker” pen quickly. He scribbled on some notes that I could not read at all and handed over the papers. “Everything is fine now. Have a good trip!” I waited for a moment to get my “Parker” pen back. He looked at me with a fatherly smile “So, you are new. I’ll keep your pen as a souvenir”. Well, I said, “Here we go. I’m learning” and waved bye to rush back to my group.
Back at the bus, I also learned that “when you leave the group unattended, it is a big hassle to gather them back in the bus together.” This was going to be a frequent fact to face, unfortunately.
Moving out of the Bulgarian border, I opened my file for the announcement sitting in the front and reminding myself that I am abroad for the first time in life out of Turkey at the age of 20!
Soon, I was out of my dreams back to the reality of the fact that I could not read the damned signboards! They were, of course, all in Cyrillic alphabet. My boss’s bible, my reference file did not have any explanation on that! So, I decided to read the announcements one by one as we passed through the towns. After all, the group did not where we would be. I also hoped that nobody would be able to read the Cyrillic.
As I started implementing my decision, I had read the announcement for Plovdiv, Filibe in Turkish, talking about the Ottoman roots back in the history for Filibe. To my wonder, the town was rather small compared to the extensive information given in my file. At that moment, I said fine. However, I got worried looking at the smiling face of Yilmaz Captain at the steering wheel. He turned to me and winked happily. I curiously asked, “Is everything OK?” He replied softly, “Yes but get ready for the storm!”
Soon, I realized what the storm was! Here we go! We were driving into a big city with a signboard that Bulgarian authorities bothered to put in “Latin Alphabet” too. It was “PLOVDIV” in Latin of which I had made the announcement that we passed through! Quickly, I decided to keep silent and wait the reaction from the group. If nothing would come out then I could be back on track!
Unfortunately, a lady sitting at number 2, the first row on the right of the bus, with a full front view of the signboard, realized that we just arrived at “PLOVDIV”. First, she kindly asked me “But this is Plovdiv! Did we not pass through this town before?” I ignored. Then she asked louder second time “Fahhan bey, is this Plovdiv again?” Trying to think a quick way out, I pretended that I was studying my file. When the gentleman behind her also joined in the protest, I had to stand up, turn around with the mike in my hand, facing the group with all questioning face, gained a few more seconds as if I’m adjusting the sound level to make sure that everybody can understand the solution to the puzzle of “PLOVDIV” – by that time, the murmurs of the front row had assured all fellow passengers to know about the “Plovdiv” dilemma, including our second captain who was catching a nap on top of the last 5 seats -.
I said, “The story of Filibe is very interesting showing the mighty power of Ottomans. When Ottomans built Filibe, it was at the original place that I have made the announcement, the one we passed through already. The city was green, small, cozy and beautiful to live in. Here, Bulgarians built the big, concrete, gray and ugly city, the New Filibe, or called “PLOVDIV” after their independence from Ottoman Empire. They wanted to demonstrate that they could build better “FILIBE” than the Ottomans. I am happy that our dear lady passenger sitting at number 2 noticed the signboard of “New Filibe”, giving me a chance to explain to you this historical fact!
Now, let’s be patient to observe this city as we drive through and then I will ask your opinion on which “Filibe” is more beautiful”
Thanks God, those were the days of “No Mobile” and “No Internet”! This gave me the option to open a debate, interact, walk through the bus, and chat one by one with my group as I had broken the ice between the lies and me! Then I ignored all the rest of the announcements until Sophia where again the city name was clearly written on the signboard in Latin!
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