Amsterdam 2020 (Amsterdam Series Book 2) - Plot & Excerpts
At first the women want to meet at the mosque in the women's rooms. But then Rabia Basturk, my future mother-in-law, invites us to her house. Jana insists we take a cab because it is across town in the Eastern Docklands, near the zoo. It's raining, and she doesn't want our first impression to be of drowned rats. To match my expression of doom. The Basturks are rich. They have a home in Amsterdam, a vast country estate in Aerdenhout, between Haarlem and the North Sea, a house in London, a condo in Zurich, a house in Ankara. I expect the worst. It turns out to be a modern houseboat, very chic, very expensive. A floating square box of glass and marble. “Isn't this charming,” says Jana, working herself up into a sociable mood. Rabia Basturk answers the door herself. Late forties, petite with olive skin and gray hair, her dress and make-up immaculate. She wears a traditional Turkish costume in rainbow silk, with lots of jewelry. She introduces herself, asks us in, and offers to take our burkas. We step into a large foyer, shimmering in pale pink marble. An immense chandelier hangs in the middle of the room, centered over a large round gold-gilded table. She leads us to a salon, devoid of furniture. The women's sitting room. Futons in rainbow colors and large paisley pillows edge the room. Persian rugs cover the marble floors. Glass walls look out over a wide canal. It all seems excessively garish for such a small space. A Bedouin tent trapped in modern Dutch architecture. Or an anthropological exhibit in a natural history museum.
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