My stay in Turkey

 

was shaping up to be wonderful only for my parents. True, I should be grateful (and I was) for wanting to take me with them, but that was it. Or rather, the beginning; the end would have been too good. My parents (as they themselves stated) hadn't been on vacation for several years, and now the opportunity arose, as they both had a week off. What I'm about to describe is that week, which was heaven for some, sea, or, excuse me, hell, for others.

It all started, I think, with the need to figure out something to spend time together. In other words, a joint vacation. A trivial idea. A trip to Egypt, or rather, a flight. Three people. Everything would have been fine, except for the first problem. My mother-in-law—obvious and understandable for regular readers). A call to my uncle should have solved the problem.

"Hi," Barbara said—if he hadn't recognized her voice. "Could you..."

The agreement was neither quick nor reluctant. My mother-in-law was taken care of. Actually, I had to do it every day, several times, but that's another story. Basically, everything was taken care of down to the last detail. Except for a few minor issues (I wonder if there are any major ones?). At the start, or rather before, it turned out there were no tickets. Well, there were only two, and only first-class ones. An explanation is in order. A week earlier, upon hearing about the trip, I decided to walk. I walked for six hours and twenty minutes. A friend who was passing me in her car at the time thought I was drunk and didn't stop. She was driving with her mom. I walked over thirty kilometers that day, and I can honestly say I don't regret it. I had to think things through. Traveling with family at twenty-two is quite embarrassing. So I decided to walk, and I did. It was Saturday evening when I called home to ask for a pick-up. One-way is fine, but a round-trip is excessive. On the way, I met—well, it's better to leave it at that. I just remember that the night was wonderful. I don't think I've ever slept so well. That's not an exaggeration. I simply recommend this method to anyone who can't sleep. And besides, how it works on your legs, I apologize to the women. I dream of my grandmother benefiting from this "therapy." But I'm getting off topic a bit. So, my mother, the main organizer of our family trips, called the office because she'd found information about tickets, or rather, the lack thereof, online and it wasn't verified. There, she learned that the information was absolutely accurate and that there were still seats on flight number.... She also said it was to Turkey. Hmm... Turkey or Egypt—it's not your choice. She chose Turkey. Flight number 250 to Turkey had only one drawback: it was a week later.

"On the other hand, better later than earlier," my mother said. My father wasn't convinced.

"I have an important meeting on Wednesday, and the general meeting on Friday...

" "You can postpone—it's not the end of the world..." My mother, as usual, was understanding.

The conversation would have probably lasted a good fifteen minutes, if not for the phone interrupting the commotion. My uncle called. My mother answered.

"In a week?" he asked, surprised, as if it were about something as important as keeping an eye on his immobilized mother-in-law. It all started all over again.

"I'm not a nanny. I'm an IT specialist," my uncle stammered, probably hunching his shoulders.

"Haven't we already discussed this?" Marek asked with a pained grimace.

"Yes, but...

" "Oh, that's rude. Who's talking about babysitting? Did I say 'nanny', or did I say 'nannying'?" Did I even say—for example, a child?”

Mom raised her hand. Mirek let her know he knew what she meant and that he could handle it himself. Mirek was the head of the family. The discussion would have gone on forever if not for his mother-in-law’s shriek. It came like an unexpected wave, and when it finally hit, it was scary to argue. Mom, who had been listening to the conversation, already had something to do. His mother-in-law made a face.

“You have to help us. She’s your mother too,” Mirek said.

His mother-in-law, Mirek’s mother, who was pushing eighty, and also Uncle Piotrek’s mother, had more will to live than anyone else, but she looked like someone who couldn’t move. Rightly so, in a way. She had gray eyebrows and something on her head that resembled a crow’s nest?

Mother continued her conversation with her uncle.

“You don’t need me, you need a caregiver for the elderly .”

Mother waved this aside.

“No way.

” “Why?

” “Nobody will do that. We called the Everyone. Besides, it's summer vacation.

Mother was halfway to the bathroom.

"Besides, what do you know about 'nannies' for the elderly?" Mother shouted, nearing fury.

"Not too much," Uncle replied.

"What do you mean, not too much?" Mother asked, surprised.

"Which of these words don't you understand?" I interjected unnoticed, wanting to save Uncle's dignity.

"Come on, okay," Mirek said to me.

"So?" Mother shouted, waiting for her mother-in-law to finish her evening toilette.

"I can't come—in a week," Uncle replied.

"I know that," Mirek said over the intercom.

"Brothers sticking together," Mother said quietly.

"Then you should also know that I'm worried about her. If something happened to her... "

Mother grimaced.

"You're hopeless," Mother said.

"Please, keep sucking up to him; it will definitely work," Mirek said, making it clear that he was also participating in the discussion.

Mother made a face. She was in the process of rolling her mother-in-law from her left side to, obviously, her right. I glanced at my watch. It was almost 8 p.m. "Good thing it wasn't 3 p.m.," I thought.

"Okay, I'll see what I can do," my uncle said, ending a conversation that should have been over by now.

Time flies when you have friends, time flies when you have more than two. Another day, another golden thought.

Turkey instead of Egypt. Well, it's possible anyway. The trip was supposed to happen, period, that's for sure. When I remembered I was going there with my parents, I thought about... I don't really remember, but the first call I made was to my dad. An explanation is due. I live with my mom and stepfather, Mirek. Besides, I also have my grandma at home. And the workers, but they're only there from seven to six, or whenever. "Traveling with family has its advantages," I thought, but at the moment I couldn't think of any. It would probably come... on its own.

The departure was supposed to be from Warsaw. Admittedly, it was at three in the morning, but that could probably be counted as a plus. I enjoyed night drives—like we all do, didn't I? If staying in separate rooms didn't yield the desired results, then... well, I didn't know. Well, the tickets had already been purchased. Cancelling them wouldn't give you a full refund, I'd say not eighty percent, but I'm not one hundred percent sure. My uncle arrived on time. We could set off on a journey that was supposed to be... a wonderful vacation. Whether it was – judge for yourself. The flight took less than three hours. It was nice, but not amazing. Pleasant, but not mind-blowing. Overall, economy class. Anyone who's flown knows. From the very beginning, I made it a point of honor to be kind and friendly to those around me, especially to my parents. Whatever they say, they deserved this vacation. The first day was supposed to show just how much.

As I say, there are different ways to spend your free time. Some like to play tennis, others golf. Some prefer horseback riding, others prefer swimming in the pool. You name it.

I was going to quickly find out what type of vacation my parents prefer.

"Is this our hotel, honey?" "Mirek's mother asked excitedly

. He calmly, like Al Pacino in "Casino," lowered his glasses.

"Yes, calmly," he replied.

When my mother saw the sea, I half expected her to cross herself. Her eyes lit up. "This is it," I thought. At least they got what they wanted. And so did I. I hadn't mentioned it earlier because it seemed irrelevant, but I could have refused to go, but for reasons unspecified, I didn't. Oh well. It was time to pay for my decision. Like every young male, the idol of the women of his hometown, the most modest man on the planet, I decided that by the next day at the latest I'd look for a chickadee. One was waiting in my hometown, but since she'd gone to Italy, from what she said, it could only be partially true. Do you know any girl who could resist the charm of—pardon the expression—a gay Italian, because I... I've heard it's tough. So I decided to use my personal charm and take care of some lost sheep. Or even two, if necessary. Time will tell. For now, I'll just say that Polish women are the most beautiful under the sun and that... well, anyway.

Which shouldn't surprise me at all – we arrived at exactly 3 p.m. After returning, I decided to see a numerologist; the number 15 must have hidden some greater message. Something that should make me feel small. Small enough to change my values ​​and start believing in a religion. Religion isn't treated as a serious topic of conversation these days. Even the slightest interest in it makes you suspicious, unless you're trying to climb the Tory party hierarchy. My mom thinks I should see a psychiatrist. Use their services. Maybe it's because I've been very interested in religion lately and things of esoteric origin, like the rings of Atlanta. Now, of course, I'm embarrassed. I mean, most people would forgive me for planning therapy soon, but if I admit to a serious interest in religion now, you'd think I'd truly gone mad.

So, thanks to some unspecified force, we managed to safely reach the hotel. The first thing we did was what? Turn on the TV. "

Oh God," I screamed, when I saw all the digital channels from Poland. "Mercy."

Mirek, not trying to feign interest in the scenery, lay back and watched the news. Mom did the same. I decided I'd at least take a walk on the beach, since there was still a lot of time until dinner...

Banana dinner. Everything came with a pile of bananas. They even had tea flavored with this wonderful fruit. Another day, another experience. I don't remember what we did after dinner, but I was optimistic about the future. In my room, two floors apart, there were two beds. Now that I think about it, I don't know why I need two beds, but in the words of a song by the famous Polish singer Kazik S., "[...] more is more joy..." So two beds equals a happy Pole. Only one thing was missing for happiness. That something was coming. All that was missing was spicy spices.

Friday. Night fell. Night was night, only the cicadas, to put it mildly, were annoying. You can't have everything. In the morning, the usual breakfast, mainly—which no longer surprises me—bananas. The more observant vacationers were already guessing what would happen tomorrow and the day after. Turkey is a beautiful country. After breakfast—horror of horrors, Polish television. The first day, I thought, they'd get over it. They didn't. In the afternoon, we started. With the sights. We all love that, don't we. To make matters worse, I started feeling old. Maybe it's the atmosphere. After an hour's wait for the bus and a ten-minute uphill ride, seeing everything there was to see, we walked down to the hotel. We spent the evening on the beach. That is, me. My parents had other things to do. On the beach, I met the guy who was providing the sun loungers. In Turkey, families have fifteen children. He himself plans to have at least five or eight. The conversation flowed, which didn't surprise me at all. We spoke in my second language, English.