The flight from Munich to Izmir was uneventful, at least until we got on the ground. We waited at baggage claim until everyone else was gone for our somewhat unwieldy 9 checked bags (disclaimer: we’re staying 5 months) and wondered if we were going to have to learn how to spell “Lost Bag” in Turkish when finally Jasmine’s last bag showed up. It came, however, accompanied by a shorter, down-market Don Johnson who produced a ragged wallet with an oversized chrome “Polis” badge and who started asking who the last bag belonged to. When he explained that the police dog had singled out Jasmine’s bag for narcotics my American mind went instantly to Orient Express and just what an easy setup we were.
There is more to this story but my family has begged me to be brief so suffice it to say that hearing the words “maybe dog make a mistake” was a big relief and almost seemed off-script to my over-active imagination. Jasmine, 15, who had seemed amazingly unfazed by the whole episode, showed just the slightest tremble in her fingers as she quickly threw her things back into her suitcase under the still watchful gaze of the guards. They apologized for the inconvenience and just like that we walked out of the Izmir airport and into the Aegean sun to catch our hotel shuttle.
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