Istanbul #?: Smack you down (20/02/2026)

His movement caught my eye. This was the first time I saw it in real life, but I knew firmly that this guy planned to do something that I had in my mind for many days. Robin had told me before; this place was dangerous. Thanks to him, now I could prepare myself and stand as an observer, not the target.

I climbed past. I could see him better now, with a long, untreated beard, dirty jeans, and a hoodie jacket. I could barely spot his tools, because he hides them behind his back; they could not be seen before he stood up, perhaps because it was small enough, made it easier to be handed, or because he did not really need those tools, since his job was not with those tools, but with his ‘other’ specialty.

Well, here I am, just ate my last meal, a fish wrap, or what people here call Balik Ekmek. I bought it in Karakoy, 5 minutes’ walk south. Tomorrow was my flight schedule to leave this country. So, this evening was my last chance to take another walk around Taksim, and as usual, I did it by myself. After more than an hour roaming around, I found myself in a quiet alley, not very far from the back of the famous Galata Tower.

In a narrow path of a stair, my eyes were glued to a short street soap opera covering a bearded suspicious guy. He sat at the side of the stairs, waiting, while his face was sharply looking for something.

And then he moved.

His target; Asian tourist five feet behind me, climbing the stairs while chatting with his partner. A tall person, with curly long hair, reached down touching his shoulder. I would assume they both, this guy and his partner, were from South Korea, or perhaps China.

The beard man knew very well how to pick the kind-weak people based on the nation. Hm, wait, was he a racist?

I believe he did many times to European or African travelers, but if I were him, I would not choose those people either. They could rather be a broke nomad traveler, or if they have money, they do not have to think twice to smack you down. Asian, on the other hand, they were generally good with numbers. Although they could be very tight on budget, they won’t travel with only a few liras in their pocket. Other description of these people, some of them were also a kind of –tidak enakan / people pleasure (?) --. They intend to prevent problems, making it easy to forgive or leave the issues aside, sacrificing several thousand liras. Add some spices of religion, they would be grateful for getting stolen, because it would be granted in heaven.

What a combination.

Now the bearded man passed the couple. I was waiting, I was standing around seven feet higher than them, so I was in the perfect spot.

And then, here it was.

The brush fell off. Suddenly. From the back of the beard man, accurately landing in front of the couple.

It was amazing! I was very sure. I waited every millisecond, observing how these people could do that, but I still missed it. It just felt like the brush did not fall, but it fell anyway. And the accuracy of the landing? It was outstanding. The timing? You would not see something like that. He calculated the moment when the guy would finish the talk to the girl, and with an obvious sound of brushes falling, the couple could notice it, just a few centimeters from their left feet.

But how could the beard guy notice the moment these people stopped talking, while he could not speak the same language? Or could he?

The couple was stopped, looking at the brush for a second, before calling the bearded man, who walked down slowly, pretending that he did not know a tool had fallen from his bag. They started shouting. Some people around started looking. And then, after three steps, the bearded guy turned back, and he noticed that someone was calling him.

He saw his brush in the hand of this good-kind-Asian guy, smiling, offering his hand with a brush on it. They moved closer. The bearded guy was touched; a random good guy was helping him now.

 “Thank you, thank you, sir.” The bearded guy said it to the couple while taking the brush. Bowing his upper body.

“It is okay. Be careful later!” The Asian guy is smiling, waving his hand.

Now they both had both gotten apart. The bearded walked down, the couple climbed up. I was still standing in a higher place. Observing.

And then, suddenly, the bearded guy turned back, very fast, and started to climb up. He chased his target. With big leaps, he arrived in front of them with only five steps. The Asian couple noticed it, stopped, waited, and looked a bit confused.

With a fast, firm, and well-practiced movement, with no words out, the bearded guy, who was a shoe cleaner, grabbed the Asian guy’s leg and started cleaning his shoe.

The Asian man was shocked for a while, but not declining this good-noble action from a random person whom he just helped seconds ago.

“Ah, you don’t have to do that.” The Asian looked so happy. I believe he would not think that he was a target in this action. He enjoyed it.

I even believe he had thought of giving several liras to the bearded guy. What a good guy. But it would not end with only ‘several liras’ for today.

Now, it was my turn. For a second, I hesitated. Did I need to get involved, or just watch them working on their drama? But then, I walked down and decided that jumping into the problem would be more fun. Now, I could spot the happy face on both targets, changing a little by a little once I moved closer to them. The shoe cleaner could not see me because I was behind his back, at the same time in front of the Asian’s face.

“Sir, you need to leave now.” I grab the Asian’s hand, pull him softly, just as a sign to leave.

He looked confused. I don’t blame him. I would feel the same if I were him.

“No, no. It’s okay. I helped him, now he wants to pay it back.” He explained. He was such a good guy. But too plain. An easy ball for this beardy guy.

And suddenly a hand just pushed me to the side. The shoe cleaner now realized someone was disturbing his work.

He looked mad. With his left hand holding the brush, the same brushes he threw a minute ago, he pushed me again.

But I resisted. Now I walked back one step, out of his range.

“He will steal your money, bro. You are on a scam now.” I waved my hand, signing once again that the couple should leave. “Let’s go. Just leave this guy away.”

They looked more confused. And then the Asian guy pulled his leg away, making the shoe cleaner lose his patience. He toasted his brush to the floor, angrily turned back, and ran toward me. I was shocked, but I was prepared. I climbed up faster, leaving him behind. He shouted words in Turkish that I could not understand. He cursed me, perhaps.

“No, no, hey, don’t do that!” The Asian girl tried to stop the bearded guy. I ran faster. But I laughed.

After several steps, I heard the curses sound weaker. My chaser stopped, walking back. His target was not me; they were standing there. His priority was not chasing distractor but gaining money.

I turned back as well, now in a higher place than before. I held my wrist, took a deep breath, and a bigger view could be seen from here, including the couple with the shoe cleaner. From here, I could watch the end of the story.

The Asian girl was looking at me from far below, unsure what was happening now. I crossed my hand on the top of my head, signing that it was a bad move to stay there. I also waved my hands, ordering them to come upstairs, leaving the bearded guy. The girl looked more unsure. She whispered something to her man. The Asian guy was looking at me and then got distracted again when the shoe cleaner arrived back and started to do the work again.

I knew he would not have the heart to do that. It should be too cruel for them, leaving the bearded, poor-looking, kind guy, although they were watching that he almost punched my face, wanted to pay back their generosity by giving back the brush, by cleaning his shoe. I'm sure he would not be evil enough to do that.

And I was right.

“Thank you for your help, friend. We will be fine!” The Asian girl shouted at me.

The couple waved their hands, saying thanks from afar. I just smiled again, raising my thumb as okay, and walked back. I climbed up again, leaving them behind. The bearded guy was still mopping the Asian’s shoe on the right side.

We just lost today. But I was not sad. It was a story, you know. A strange street theater, with free tickets and no second show. The couple, I guessed, were not poor. Maybe losing some liras would not hurt their life. Maybe this moment would become a funny memory for them, a story to tell when they return home.

Actually, the scam is not really a state of the art. It is simple, and like many scams, it preys on the goodwill of the people. That is why choosing the right person is obviously critical for this system. First, after dropping one of his brushes, the performer will wait until the victims pick it up and give the tool back. The shoe shiner is very grateful and offers to shine the shoes to show his appreciation. And then, here we are. While he works, he talks about his poor family, sick wife, economic issues, or many poverty problems. At the end of the process, he will cut the conversation, and a hefty amount of the price requested will shock you, since it could be 10x the usual price. The unlucky (or too kind) tourists pay up because of guilt for the poor man who struggles to feed his family.

My friend from Croatia, Robin, told me he lost almost a thousand lira from this type of scam. A bit different than our rich Asian friends above, this amount of money was a treasure for a nomadic traveler like him. He was mad all day, crazily walking right and left in the room while cursing with his limited English words. For someone who did not know so much vocabulary, his memories of storing bad words were obviously impressive. From that point, he pointed out one thing: if he just understood the situation, he would have smacked the scammer down without a second.

Unfortunately, he was a writer as well. With that silly experience, he confirmed that his stories were more interesting.

Well, I would not disagree with him. It surely enhanced the story.

And that evening, I finally understood. Some cities don’t just show you buildings. They show you people. They show you yourself.

I walked back toward Taksim with a half-smile, my hand was getting colder, the night air pressing softly on my skin. Tomorrow, I will leave this country. But this small scene, on a narrow stair near Galata, would stay with me longer than any postcard.

Maybe that’s what travel really is. Not collecting places but collecting moments that shake you a little. Or not a little XD.

So, dear scammers, next time, try writers. We won’t punch you. We’ll turn you into stories.