While cab drivers are the scum of the earth, and Turkish cab drivers no exception, occasionally you meet a good one.
On the way from my hostel in Beyoğlu to my friend Ayşegül’s house in Arnavutköy, my cab got stuck in one of the monstrous traffic jams for which Istanbul is notorious. The driver spoke slightly more English than I speak Turkish, but we bonded over the sight of a gorgeous brunette in a low-cut white dress.
Unfortunately, the woman was walking faster than we could drive, but the cabbie was playing good music, so it still didn’t feel like we were bumper-to-bumper for over an hour. “This is dope!” I said. “Who is this?”
“Alican! Turkish DJ!”
The cabbie rolled down the windows and maxed the volume, and we grooved all the way to Arnavutköy.
Ayşegül met us outside her apartment, and chatted briefly with the cabbie before he drove off. “He says you were clubbing in the cab,” she told me.
“Yeah, we were listening to some Turkish DJ named Alican.”
“Alican? He’s my friend!”
Two days later, we had VIP passes to Diynamic Festival, at Suma Beach on the Black Sea. It rained—the first I’d felt in two months abroad, the waves were beautiful, and Alican played a two-hour set.
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