Brent's Ramblings

I stepped off the boat into Istanbul and instantly felt foreign—my skin pale, my hair light. I churned uphill, sweaty, for lunch, paid millions (worth cents), and wandered through a residential neighborhood where everyone stared. One man shouted “Sportsman!”; two boys called me “Toureest!” I laughed, ate some of the best food I’ve ever had, got lost at night and hailed a taxi. My driver became a friend, playing Lyle Lovett music as we headed back to the hotel.

On my journey to Istanbul, the boat cabin became its own little world. I nearly knocked over a Russian couple when opening the door, then we boarded a deaf couple whose silent presence challenged communication to new levels. The concierge paged a deaf roommate for a missing key—awkward. Over breakfast, I befriended a German duo and Ukrainians who, previously silent, later shared harrowing stories of danger in Turkey. Then the 300-dollar bribe at passport control changed every

Leaving Alexandria, I looked forward to a quiet train ride to Odessa. My peace was interrupted by two loud men boarding—one clearly drunk, both apparently policemen. We talked travel, life, and the awkward question: “Why did you leave the States?” In Odessa, I wandered: hunting tickets, doors locked, toilets scarce. I met strangers—a young English-student, a champion marksman named Alexander—each encounter adding color to the city. Odessa is changing, still full of surprises