I had to visit the Telecom office last week. The usual sitting in a queue with my number in my hand, watching guys come in and go straight to the desk I'm waiting for. But I'll leave the art of Queue Jumping for another time.
I was christened "Anne", a name that shouldn't cause any problems, but as I handed over my Identity Card the moustache sitting opposite me started to twitch and a with a smile, he looked up for confirmation. "Yes, I know" I said wearily. Anne in Turkish means "Mother". Occassionally it has been a blessing in disguise. Several times I've been stopped by the speed cops. They've taken one look at my driving licence, shown it to their mates, had a giggle and either forgotten why they stopped me or haven't felt able to fine someone who reminds them of their mum.
It could be worse. I had a friend who started teaching English in Istanbul. He soon decided to move on. His name was Don. Going into class and introducing himself as "Mr. Underpants" more than once a day was more than he or the students could stand.