Turkish Delight

Upon immediate arrival in Istanbul, I realized what had been missing in my life. Or, rather, where what was missing had gone. Get me? Istanbul is famous for many things, all of which I tried to get a taste.

Hagia Sofia? Check.
Blue Mosque? Check.
Boatride that connects Europe with Asia? Check.

Taste of Turkish delight?.... welllllllll.... That depends. If you view Turkish delight as the chewy candy, then yes. I sampled a piece. If your definition of Turkish delight was in fact, the sexy thick-haired, bushy eyebrowed, intensity that are the Turkish men of Istanbul, then.... NO.
Pre-mature male pattern baldness is obviously a recessive trait here because everyone had thick beautiful hair.

Istanbul was strange in the sense that all the servers in restaurants were male. I did not have a single waitress. All of them were young, attractive men. They dangled in front of me, reminding me of the impossible situation that I was in. How could I signal to them that I wanted them, in front of my mother?
How could I flirt with them, alert them to my obvious attraction to their sexiness?

The cab driver, the waiter at Dubb, the merchant trying to swindle me. HOT HOT HOT. Laugh because you think I'm boy crazy, but Istanbul is where all the hot guys went. My only complaint is the Burt Reynolds mustache...

(none of these men are attractive, but please notice how everyone on the ferry is a man. seriously, where are the women in Istanbul?)