It was one of our very first experiences in Turkey. I had read that SIM cards were cheaper to get anywhere other than the airport, and that cash exchange rates would also be better once outside the airport. So, we decided to go straight to our rental car and deal with getting SIM cards and cash in the morning.

However, I had rented a car through a discount car rental service that required us to drive 5 minutes from the airport to the rental site. Our first challenge was that nobody was outside the airport to pick us up. It was already getting quite late (around 11 PM). We asked some random guy, most likely a taxi driver or something, to help. He called the number on our rental confirmation and told us that somebody would come to pick us up. About 30 minutes later, we were picked up and given a janky car.

With our car sorted out, we drove out of Istanbul toward our first Airbnb of the trip. We’d be driving to Cappadocia the next morning, so Jo found a cheap Airbnb outside the city on the way there. At this point, it was around midnight, and we arrived at the Airbnb. We unloaded, walked through the small gate, and up to the door. We had the instructions from the host about retrieving the key and started fiddling around the doorway, trying to find the keybox.

Soon, though, somebody started shouting at us from the balcony above. We explained that we were there for the Airbnb, but this person did not understand English and came outside to talk to us.

It quickly became clear that this was not an Airbnb. However, the address on our confirmation was correct. The phone number for the Airbnb host also didn’t work. In trying to resolve this, the man proceeded to hail every man walking by to see if they spoke English and could help. After 20 minutes of confusion, at nearly 1 AM, Jo and I stood there surrounded by a dozen Turkish men, none of whom spoke English. At one point, we were handed a phone. On the other end was one of these strangers’ English teachers, who had been woken up in the middle of the night to help communicate with some bewildered Americans trying to break into someone’s home. The English teacher was as confused as we were, and that didn’t go anywhere. At that point, we figured we were the victims of some sort of scam.

Understanding the stress of our situation, the man whose home we had mistakenly entered introduced us to his wife and, through Google Translate, invited us to stay with them for the night. As we were considering his offer, however, somebody miraculously tracked down the man who owned the actual Airbnb, got in contact with him, and was on his way to fix the situation. Another 15 minutes or so later, the man showed up, said something to the dozen men still standing there, and instructed us to follow him.

We thanked the kind Turkish family and strangers who had taken their time to help us in the middle of the night and followed this man in his car for about 15 minutes. The address we had was not even close! It’s a miracle that someone was able to track this man down, using just his name, from a town or two over. I have no idea how it was done, or who made the connection. He just showed up and led us to our place for the night. It was clear that we were the first guests at this Airbnb. The room still smelled like paint, there was no Wi-Fi, and pretty much only a bed.

Throughout that whole ordeal, we had no money, no SIM cards, and thus no way to communicate via Google Translate or look up directions. We were at the mercy of strangers. This was an experience I’ll never forget. People with whom I share almost nothing in common went out of their way to help and even offered us a place to sleep. It was a humbling way to start our trip in Turkey.