The two men seeking "romance" drink tea with Kartini in a tea garden, near the seabus pier in Kadikoy, Asian Istanbul.

One day though, I found myself on the Asian side of Istanbul, in Kadikoy. I had seen no other foreigners there, and had just experienced amazing warmth and helpfulness from some local women earlier. I had wanted to pray in a mosque but could not find the women's washing area. (Muslims have to carry out a ritual washing process before we pray, and this is usually separate from the men's area.)

When the old lady sitting beside me on the bench finally figured out what I was asking her, she showed me the secret door to the women's washing room, and pressed the buzzer which permitted entry. Well, it was not really secret. In fact, it was directly in front of me, literally in my face that whole time. The only sign which indicated that it was anything besides a private residence, though, was entirely in Turkish and rather small.

When I had completed my ablutions, this woman escorted me to the ladies' prayer quarters and explained to the locals present why I was there (or so I assume). She pulled a sweater off a hook and personally put it on me, even though I was already wearing my long veil, which ensured all the necessary body parts were covered. Then, quite suddenly and unexpectedly, her plump arms were around me as she kissed me on both cheeks. As she enveloped me in the warmth of her hug, she never stopped talking, in a tone that a grandmother uses fondly on her grandkids. Before I had gotten over the surprise, she left me to pray in peace. Out of all the mosques I've prayed in or visited, that modest building will remain foremost in my memory, for in my mind, the encounter with that old lady is a testament to the legendary helpfulness and warmth of the Turks.

It was this aspect of the Turkish attitude towards their guests that I was mulling over as I walked around after that incident. A man approached and asked if I would like to drink some cay with him. Ordinarily I would have declined in a second. But I was still thinking about that old lady and how nice the people on the Asian side seemed. I also recalled reading, both in my guidebook and in a "Travellers' Tips" book at the hostel, some advice encouraging travellers not to decline invitations to tea unless very pressed for time.

So I thought, what the heck. Let's see where this leads. He walked me to a tea garden nearby and a friend of his joined us. They were both taxi drivers, but they worked in a town north of Kadikoy. They ordered tea, and I wondered to myself if we were getting dirty stares from all around or if I was simply being oversensitive.

I answered the usual questions: Where are you from? When did you arrive? How long will you stay? Are you married? I also attempted some form of small talk. The silences were long and uncomfortably awkward, and soon I pulled out my trusty phrasebook. They eagerly took it from my hands and soon found the Turkish-English dictionary.

In no time, they were asking if I would go to the sea with them. "To take photos," they said. I pointed to the waterfront we had just come from, which was rather crowded with families, and I nodded okay. However, they indicated that they wanted to go to a different place, a beach, and pointed inland to a deserted area. I said no to their repeated requests, and insisted that if they wanted to go to the sea at all, it would be the crowded waterfront. No way I was gonna go anywhere quiet and alone with these two blokes.

I was beginning to get bad vibes from them, and actually starting to see visions of me being robbed or raped or worse. One of them flipped through my phrasebook again, and pointed a word out to me, with a questioning look. The word was "romance" as he pointed to the book, to me, then to him. Eeewww. I said no and ignored his repeated "Why?" I quickly gulped down the rest of my tea and stood up to leave. My offer to pay was immediately refused, as he explained that they were friends with the owner.

They insisted on a photo though, and I thought it was the least I could do, so we went to the crowded waterfront. That man who had been seeking "romance" posed with me; he grabbed my hand and pulled me close. Funny how one can feel violated by the very same actions that, if performed by someone else and with full consent, would express warmth and affection. That man then posed with his friend. He put his arm around his friend, but with a space of half a metre between them, their bodies barely touching at all. The contrast served to confirm my suspicions. Yup, I had been sleazed upon, big-time. Ah well, chalk it up to experience.

Thus, by the time I left Istanbul, I was convinced that if someone was especially friendly and generous, they were either trying to get into my wallet or into my pants. A solo Asian woman, I stood out on the streets like the alien that I was, no matter how conservatively I dressed. Walking prey. Thus, I had a couple of other similar experiences with men – I'm slow to learn.

Talking to other women who were travelling solo in Turkey, I learned that such experiences are very common. Very often, men would invite a single woman to tea, which may extend to a meal. Even if it was just their first meeting, he would very likely have expressed his love for her, and requested some form of physical intimacy. To their credit, they will generally respect her decision if she says no and stays firm. However, this will not happen until he has tried every means available to convince her to change her mind.

One woman I met spoke of another woman she knew, who never paid for a single meal in all the time she was in Turkey. Turkish hospitality can be very generous indeed, but in the end, I get the impression that there will always be some form of reciprocity expected. So to the solo women travellers in Turkey, just be aware that if it is a man saying "Gel, gel, gel, gel!" to you, he may be hoping that you will come, in more ways than one.

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