Their days in Izmir are monotonous, spent in the sweltering hotel room or sitting in the lobby. They are waiting, just like all the other refugees in the area, to be contacted by the smuggler so they can finally get in the van that will take them on a nighttime ride to Dikili or Cesme, where they will board a boat to Greece.

“It’s my favorite country,” says Stefanos.

Ibrahim’s cousin will also be traveling with them. He’s 32 and introduces himself as Stefanos, the Greek name by which he was known when he lived on Crete from 2005 to 2011. He moved back to Syria just before the war broke out there. While most refugees want to make it to Western Europe, Stefanos would like to return to Crete.

“It’s my favorite country,” he says in perfect Greek. “I don’t want to die but there’s no other way to get there.”

Stefanos tracked down the trafficker in Izmir with an introduction from other relatives who had already made the journey. It was also from Izmir that he had made his first crossing to Greece in 2005, paying $3,500 at the time.

The night we met him was the night he was supposed to leave. He was frightened. “They say there’ll be just 15 to 35 people on the boat, with children and women. But there may be as many as 45 or 50 when we get there. They don’t care if we live or die. They just want their money,” he says of the smugglers.

He keeps looking at his cell phone. Around midnight he gets a message from the trafficker saying that the trip has been canceled because another boat has sunk and several migrants have drowned. Back in his cousin’s room the children play with their bright orange and red life vests. None of them can swim.