Funny Money

Walking back from the ancient ruins of Ephesus to the town of Selcuk, I stopped by the picked over ruins of the Temple of Artemis, one of the seven ancient wonders of the world. The Temple of Artemis is no longer so wondrous, with only one of the original 127, 60 foot columns left standing, but it was here that began the greatest story of my trip.


Ancient Temple of Artemis

As soon as I made my way in to see the one measly column of the ancient temple I was approached by a man who wanted to know all about me, be my friend – sell me something. He showed me 5 bronze coins that he said dated back to the Roman and Greek Empires. He said that he found them near the ruins, but the museum wouldn’t give him anything for them, and he needed the money. He said that the coins were normally worth more than $200 all together, but since he needed the money, he was sell them to me for a deal – with a rock he scratched the sale price in the dirt, $50. I wasn’t in a big hurry, so I let him ramble on in energetic but broken English. He pressed hard but I told him I didn’t have that much money, and I didn’t know anything about antique coins.

We went back and forth, and had fun and frustrating exchange as I studied the coins and he kept pressing. His price dropped to $40, then after another round to $30, always marking his price on the ground. At this point it seemed almost impossible to be able to buy 5 coins that are 2000 years old or more for only $30. I told him I had no idea if the coins were real or not. He could follow me back to the hotel where I could get a second opinion from the manger, but I wouldn’t pay $30 for coins that might be fake. He said OK, then thought better of it, and slashed his price once more to be done with the whole business – $15. At this point I was interested, but then thought that $15 is still a lot to pay for fake coins, and for $15 they had to be fake. So I said “thanks, but no thanks” then walked away. My persistent salesman followed to my frustration, and tried to get me to hold the coins again, as he scratched another price in the ground – final price $7. Now I was interested. The coins had to be fake, but they looked great, it was beginning to be a story, and I’m sure he could use some money. I didn’t jump at it right away and finally he threw in one of his friend’s coins to sweeten the deal, and it was done. I had 6 great looking, but surely fake coins, he had some money for his family, and the sales barrage was now over. I walked back to my hotel with the coins jangling in my pocket.

After I made it back to the hotel, I decided to have a look around town before sunset. I walked up the hill in front of St. John’s Basilica, and there was my coin salesman with his friends, who were all drinking wine. We saw each other and we both simultaneously raised our arms and went “Eh!” I said hello to them and wryly joked with my coin hawking, wine drinking friend about his poor children. They offered me a glass of wine and welcomed me to the group. I decided this is where I wanted to be, this was Turkey, so I offered to buy a bottle of wine to share with the group. My coin salesman friend volunteered to escort me to the shop down the hill where they bought their wine. When it was time to pay for the bottle, I flopped the fake coins on the counter. We all laughed. With the rest of the crew up the hill we split the wine and carried on for a little bit. They were all interested in talking with me, but mostly spoke Turkish to each other, so I sat back and enjoyed the experience, trying to guess what they were talking about.



After daylight had about faded away and it started to get colder, Bayram, my antique coin dealer, invited me to have a tea with him at the coffee house at the bottom of the hill. I offered to pay, but he insisted, and then invited me to have dinner with him and his family. After we finished the tea he fired up his moped, I jumped on the back, and we were off to the house.

At home were his wife, two youngest daughters, and his wife’s cousin. They were surprised to have me as a guest, but were more than welcoming. The house was modest, but clean. The main room was bare of furniture, only carpets dressed the floors, with pillows lining one side of the room. In one corner was a round heating stove, firing away. In the other corner was a sizeable TV – showing an English cartoon dubbed in Turkish. They invited me to have a seat and we had a great time, trying to communicate through Bayram’s limited English. They offered me tea, and soon after Bayram’s wife brought out dinner from the Kitchen. The meal was served on a huge silver colored platter that was laid on the floor of the living room. On the platter were three different dishes and a bowl of olives. All of the dishes were shared by dipping torn chunks of bread into then to grasp at the food. They brought out forks for my benefit, but I followed suit with the bread.





After dinner more family showed up – Bayram’s dad, mother, and another older woman. The two women were very friendly, but his father was a little cranky. I had a terrific experience with the family, but I soon had to leave. Later that evening I had an overnight bus to Istanbul to catch. Bayram dropped me back off at the hotel, we exchanged information, and bid farewell. Who knew that 6 small coins would lead to this experience?





I separated my story coins into the left pocket of my pants where they stayed for what I thought would be the rest of my time in Turkey. From Istanbul I was to begin my journey home stopping off in Germany for one day, then Ireland for two days, before making my way across the Atlantic to the homeland. I was heading home after almost 5 months in Europe, with a lot of great experiences, and these six antique looking coins in my left pocket. At the airport in Istanbul I had checked in, made it through passport control, then by security when I was just about to redeposit the belonging of my pockets that had just been scanned. Before I could, an airport policeman who was aimlessly poking around, found my 6 antique looking coins to be of interest.

I had made friends with a woman in line who spoke both English and Turkish so I asked her to explain that the coins were fake, that I bought them for $7. Then the security officer went to discuss the matter with another, more senior, more serious officer. Again I tried to explain my story through my new friend, emphatically; I wanted to have those coins. I started to tell the story of Bayram and his family, I tried to show the pictures. I was stone walled – the very stern officer ignored me as he intensely studied the coins, turning them over in his hand. My translating friend let me know that they would have to take the coins to be examined. Disappointed, I accepted that I wouldn’t be able to keep them, and then became more concerned with exchanging my remaining Turkish currency. When the police returned I realized I had a lot more to be worried about.

The police began to explain something to my friend in Turkish when I saw her jaw drop. She explained that not only the coins would remain in Turkey, but so would I. Until the coins were examined for authenticity I would remain under the watchful eyes of the Turkish authorities.

My friend who could translate for me was now out of the picture, and I was forcefully led by the arms to the airport police office, surrounded by half a dozen cops. I could have sworn that the coins were fake – I hoped they were fake – so I didn’t worry too much and enjoyed the experience that I thought would cost me a lot of money in missed flights back to the states at the very worst.

In the office there were almost a dozen officers, mostly curious about all of the excitement. The coins were passed around and examined, spit on and rubbed. I sat back and smiled at the whole situation – I could only imagine what would come next. I couldn’t communicate at all and was treated with suspicion – I just had to take it. While in the office one officer pecked away at a computer, writing a statement. When the statement was finished someone who spoke a little English was brought in and she began to explain the statement. They wanted me to sign it, but I politely told them that I wouldn’t sign anything without a lawyer. They grudgingly understood, and then I was hauled off to the police headquarters in the paddy wagon with the lights flashing. At the headquarters I was booked and arrested. I couldn’t communicate at all, and I didn’t know what I was in for, so I just grinned at the situation that I never would have expected and followed along.

At this point my main concern was to contact someone to let them know I’m in trouble and not real sure what to do about it. I was given my one phone call and called my Servas host from Istanbul, Ole. I told him the situation and began to give him the phone numbers to folks back home to let them know what the situation was. Before I could finish what I was saying the phone clicked. I couldn’t finish my message, and I was only allowed to have the one call a day.

From the headquarters I was loaded into the police van again, and we drove for almost 40 minutes. We stopped at the hospital, but I had no idea why. The doctor, who spoke just a little English, asked if I was alright, if I felt good. I said “Yep”. He then signed and stamped some papers, and were off again, back to the headquarters. On the way back I was laughing out loud, about going all of the way to the hospital for that, for smuggling fake coins out of Turkey – at least I hoped they were fake. The laughter must have helped to ease things and stir some curiosity. The one of the guys at the front of the van called back and said “Turkey good?” I laughed again and yelled back, “Oh yeah, Turkey good!” with a big thumps up. Then the guy seated next to me who spoke a few words of English, said to me “You, me – write?” I just got arrested and his friends and he wanted to be my damn pen pal! Too funny. I said “No problem!”, I needed all the friends that I could get at this point, and I knew he had a cell phone. So he wrote down his email address and I wrote mine, then I warmed him up with a primer course in English. Before we made it back to the headquarters I asked him I could use his cell phone, since we were pen pals and all, and I was in business. I quickly called Ole back, and finished giving him the numbers he needed.

Back at the headquarters I was frisked, then fleeced of all but my clothes. Everything was taken – my belt, watch, ring, everything in my pockets, even my shoelaces –just in case I decided to hang myself in the jail cell, which was my next stop.

Over the previous 4 and half months I had slept in a lot of different places, but this was a first. After I was stripped of everything but my clothes I was lead down the hall by my arm, with my laceless shoes flopping out their tongues. The sound that you might associate with slam of a jail cell door, really does sound like that. My bed for the night was a narrow padded bench with a blanket at the head that I used as a pillow. After a long night of being led around one way, then another, I was ready for some rest.

In the morning I was woken up and led out of my cell to the telephone. The U.S. consulate was on the phone. Finally, I was able to communicate in English about my situation. Later on I was led out of the headquarters in handcuffs, another first! I’m not sure where we were going, but I think it was to the courthouse. We hardly made it out the door when a man in a suit was walking in, and we followed him back inside. The man spoke just a little bit of English and said he was my state appointed lawyer. He couldn’t understand enough English to understand my story, so now we were waiting on someone who could translate.

A half hour later a man walked in and explained that he would be my translator. My translator, lawyer, and I then went to a private room where I began to explain my story, and the lawyer explained the legal process. He said that I could give a written statement or I could testify in court in front of the judge, but either way the judge would have to rule on the case. My statement was one issue, but what we were really waiting for were the results from the museum telling whether the coins were authentic or not. If they were real, I would not be leaving anytime soon.

After I gave them the story and they were each laughing at the comedy of the situation we decided it was best for me to give a written statement to the police, after all I had nothing to hide and it’s a damn funny story. Back in the office with all of the other officers I launched into my story about bartering for the coins, finally buying them for $7, then drinking with the salesman, and eating dinner with his family. Now that the police could actually understand my story through my translator, everyone was smiling, cracking up, and shaking their heads. Then as I was giving them flack about missing my flights back to the US over coins I bought for $7, and really enjoying the beautiful scenery of Turkey, especially the police headquarters, my translator asked me which airline I missed my flight with. I told him the airline, and he lit up and said that he was a manager for the same airline! In seconds he was on the phone arranging another flight for me for the next day to catch me up to my flight out of Ireland back to the states. He found a flight with his company to get me from Istanbul to London, for free. Then he asked the office to look for a cheap flight with another airline to get me from London to Dublin, Ireland in time for my flight back home. A little later his office called back and they found me a flight for under 60 bucks. The police brought out my bag of goodies so that I could fish out my wallet so I could give my bankcard to my translator, Levent, to take care of the whole business. Just like that I was back on track, if the coins were fake – but they had to be fake. Everyone was grinning and laughing and shaking their heads even more now!

After my statement was recorded the stern, brooding, naturally suspicious demeanor of the police had softened to friendship. I was still under custody, but they were much more relaxed and three of them and I went to eat together at the cafeteria for security personnel back at the airport. Before we left, things had relaxed so much that I was able to retrieve my camera along with my wallet from the security bag. I wanted to capture this moment and they didn’t seem to mind. They were happy to be a part of the story that I was enjoying so much.


Head Officer and Levent, my translator


Officer's Cafeteria


Eating with the officers


My laceless shoes

After lunch we made it back to the police headquarters and sat around for a little bit. The judged had faxed my statement and we were only waiting for the results from the museum. Soon the news arrived – the coins were fake!!! Not long after, the judge phoned and said I was free to go. That was it. I put the laces back in my shoes, my belt around my waist, watch on my wrist, ring on my finger, and all the other goodies back in my pockets – I was free!


My jail cell for the night


Officers having fun

The next day I was off to London, and the day after that I made it to Dublin to catch up with my flight back to the States that the same day. It’s been a hell of a trip.

Thanks for following along, I hope you enjoyed all of the adventures and misadventures as much as I have.