An erotic tour of Turkey

Fri, 30 Apr 1999 16:00:00 +0000

In a place with a name usually associated with cat food, I had my first
man. Kalkan, it was called, a whitewashed seaside resort on the Turkish
coast. It was there where my preference for boyish good looks gave way to
the hardened features of a real man. Actually, he was only 28. But that
seven-year difference -- and that mustache, a trait I would never go for on
an American -- only added to the seductive cultural gulf between us.

It was the summer before my last year of college. For three weeks, a
high-school friend and I did the Greek islands in the manner that only
21-year-olds can. We got up at noon and spent hours on the beach, ridding
ourselves of those unsightly American tan lines. We ate dinner late, and hit
the bars and nightclubs later still. On Ios and Mykonos and Santorini we
drank and danced and flirted with men from a United Nations' worth of
countries.

Salon.com > Sandra J. Goldstein

An erotic tour of Turkey