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Turkish classes


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Today I started my first Turkish class. Due to the exigencies of my social calendar, I didn't manage to get to sleep until about 4:30 AM, which resulted in a challenging day. This is the problem with living in Istanbul - you're minding your own business, planning on a spot of dinner followed by an early night, and the next thing you know it's 3:00 AM and The Iraqi has just bet you a vodka shot that he can't make friends with the bar manager.

Anyway, I realized this morning that "mistakes were made". Further distracting me from my studies is a grey-eyed German girl, splendidly built in statuesque Teutonic fashion. Pretty girls have long been the bane of my academic career. So that's why my Turkish is so poor.

One funny coincidence from last night involved my being introduced to a Turkish girl who was visiting from NYC where she works in the hospitality industry. We were discussing various hoteliers and projects in Manhattan, and she says "actually, the leading hotelier of the moment is . . . " and she names my buddy JK, from the P Hilt story. So I emailed him today and he's tickled pink that he's internationally known.


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About me

  • I'm Sunset Shazz
  • Living the dream in Istanbul, Turkey
  • I grew up in the hardscrabble streets of suburban Ottawa, Ontario, committing petty crime, insulting the elderly - basically the classic misspent youth. When I was 19, I moved to West Philly, where I put myself through the Wharton School by dealing crack and hustling. After stints in Paris and London, I eventually graduated and moved to San Francisco, where I put in eight years hard labor working for The Man. But now I pop bottles with models, deciding cracked crab or lobster - who says mobsters don't prosper?
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