Beginning from when I was waiting in line at the check-in desk at the Istanbul airport, I started to get jealous. I was surrounded by Hungarians. Already I felt like I was in a different country. Instead of the usual short, dark, and handsome men I enjoy being surrounded by, there were double-tall, barrel-chested men with pink skin, light eyes and buzz cuts. Accompanying these men were the source of my jealousy—Hungarian women. I wouldn’t say they were beautiful, but they certainly were trashy. Every species of jungle animal print was represented among the luggage and outer wear of these women. Two women who looked to be in their mid-50s were sporting tight leather pants and 9-inch stilletto boots with toes pointy enough to be confiscated by security. One had the obligatory Eastern European magenta hair and rectangular, sequined glasses. The other had on a cinch-waist leather jacket with a fur collar studded with rhinestones.
I’m starting to feel more at home already. Not that there aren’t trashy Turkish broads, but they run with a different crowd than I do. I mostly see them on my favorite Turkish television show—Ask-I Memnu (Even though the show is set among the poshest of Istanbul’s elite.) In general, Turkish girls lean toward Nepali and Indian hippy imports or baggy cargo pants and Chuck Taylors. Or headscarves. They definitely don’t wear shiny lamé tank tops with skin-tight jean mini skirts, PVC leggings and severely buckled platform boots to catch a two hour flight to Budapest. I can’t wait to see what’s going on in Poland.