Well, I had my first tears of frustration yesterday. I could deal with being lost and not being able to mime "voltage converter", but not being able to get in my door did me in. I have struggled with this door ever since I arrived, but always manage to get it open eventually. Not this time. The keys work just fine, the deadbolts click just like they're supposed to, but then the stupid door just won't open.
I must have locked and unlocked it for 10 minutes, getting hotter, and stickier, and sweatier with every passing second. Then I started banging on the door (fruitless and unsatisfying) and pulling on the door knocker (which broke off, but I fixed it), and finally I had to go downstairs and next door to the Emlak. I think "Emlak" means rental agent, but they also do building stuff so maybe it means super, too. He's the guy you go to when there's a problem.
I went in and one of the guys who helped me with my luggage when I arrived, the older one, came into the front room and I started my mime performance. He stopped me and pointed to a door, the bathroom I think. Then he came over to me and started speaking Turkish and put his hand on his heart and kissed my hand and told me I am very pretty, two Turkish words I know, and something about "alme" which I just looked up and according to my dictionary it means "Egyptian dancing girl". I don't really know how to take that, but he seemed to mean it in a good way. He motioned me to sit, and calm down, and we had a short conversation of a sort.
Then the other guy came out of the bathroom, and I started miming away, but he stopped me and shook my hand, and said hello. I guess I was a little frantic and forgot my manners. Then we went upstairs and he noticed there is no doorknob on the outside of the door, and frowned and it took him about half a second to open the door with the key. We both laughed, and now I understand how to get in, you're supposed to turn the non-existent knob, but you can make the key do that job.
Later, after working away for hours, I felt confident enough that I could regain access to my apartment to go out for dinner. I wound through vaguely familiar streets, venturing off just a bit at the end to explore a new side street where I found a nice, friendly cafe called "Pan". It was busy enough, but not too busy. They gave me a Turkish menu and I recognized enough that I could order, but when the waiter came and started gushing Turkish I had no idea what he was saying so I had to admit I didn't speak Turkish and he went and found someone who spoke English. Having ordered successfully I was reading my book and enjoying my dinner (kofte, salad, potatoes, rice) when a convertible pulled up, the woman who translated my dinner walked over, they handed out a monkey on a leash, and drove away. No, this is not normal in Turkey, this would be my first monkey. It was teeny, wearing diapers that had to be for premies, and a teeny tiny red t-shirt. It hung out on her shoulder and head fascinating customers and passers-by.
After asking for the check and getting tea (he didn't understand that international check-mark gesture and so I had to say "check" and he thought I said "cay"), I paid up and started home with only a few wrong turns. I was feeling good until I came to the door. Again: turning, and clicking, and sweating, and swearing. I went downstairs to the Emlak's office where three young boys were hanging out at the desk. I mimed, they took my key. I took it back, we all said things. Finally one of them picked up the phone and a few minutes later the Emlak appeared. I shook my head and showed him my key. He went upstairs, turned it once, and the door opened. I closed the door and showed him it wouldn't open for me whereupon he made me pull the door knocker toward me, the latch unlatched, I tesekkur ederimed him profusely, he gave me his card, told me to call anytime, kissed me on both checks and off he went.
I really have to get these guys some baklava...
Pets, potty, and play-acting
By 11AM it's already been a mixed day. I got up, cleaned my bathroom, cleaned and fed my dog, showered, and was feeling pretty good about the day, even though I seem to have broken my toilet while cleaning it. A problem I solved by pouring a big bottle of water down when I needed to flush it, figuring I would deal with a permanent fix later. I showered in my nice clean bathroom, packed up my laptop and was on my way.
I decided to stop in the pet store across the street and scope out Chloe supplies. I need to find a dog food she will eat and would like to get her a bed and maybe some treats. The nice guy at the counter let loose with a whole string of Turkish words when I walked in. Mixed in there was "hosgeldiniz" (welcome). I just say "merhaba" (hello) and they all seem to get that I don't speak Turkish. After a lot of gesturing I managed to explain that I have a dog, and learned my Turkish word for today, "kopek", which is the word for dog. It's much harder than you would think to explain even simple things. I tried to explain that I wanted smaller cans of dog food, but I think he thought I meant cheaper because he handed me a can of Pedigree and, yes, it's the same Pedigree. Finally I pointed at the number of grams on the can of food and he got that I wanted a smaller can, which they didn't have. Not surprising as I've seen only one small dog so far, a shitzu.
I thanked him and left and, feeling brave and not wanting to cross the street and all the crazy traffic on what is usually a quiet corner, I decided to stop in a hardware store and see if I could find a voltage converter. Apparently I do not have the acting skills to act out either "voltage" or "converter". After another stream of Turkish words containing "hosgeldiniz" and my American "merhaba" the nice hardware man sent his young son to try and help me. The poor thing tried, but I kept ending up with different outlet adaptors, and I would point at the word "volt" on a package and he would hand me a light bulb. When I left I think they were as confused as I was. So, there will be no new pictures except those I can take with my Mac until I find a converter so I can charge the batteries on my digital camera.
Then I was on my way to the cafe, to make lists and plans, figure out my cell phone, and try to be somewhat productive. Yesterday I practically stumbled across the cafe but today I had to keep getting out my map. The streets in this neighborhood curve and wind and turn back on themselves. I kept passing things I knew I had seen before but wasn't sure if they were supposed to be on my left or on my right, if I should head uphill or downhill. Finally I asked a man who was sitting on the street for directions. The men all seem to like sitting on the street, often in front of their stores or shops, sometimes alone, often in groups. It's a little intimidating at first, but harmless, and after awhile I usually get used to it. The women never sit on the street.
I tell the man the name of the street I'm looking for in what I hope is a polite, inquisitive tone since I don't know how to say "where is". He produces a loooong string of Turkish, somewhere mixed in there is the name of the street I need, along with what I think are other street names and probably some "turn right"s or "turn left"s. Luckily he points and so I go that way, thinking I can ask again if I need to but I do manage to find the cafe.
Above is a photo I took on my last trip. I live very near this street, and when I get to it I know I am near the cafe where the ex-pats hang out.
Dominos
Last night I had Dominos Pizza for dinner. I would like to be able to say it was exactly the same or soooo different from home, but the truth is I can't remember the last time I had a Dominos Pizza, and I rarely have any other kind of pizza either. I had planned to go find a cafe. It's too hard to cook in someone else's kitchen and Vivian's is not really equipped for much cooking, so I am resigned to going out often, especially for dinner.
But I did want to wander and find a small, cheap, neighborhood cafe. Once I was outside however, I was tired and not in the mood for aimless wandering and anyway lots of things were closed today because it was Sunday. And there was Dominos so I took the easy way out. So much for taking advantage of all that healthy, fresh Turkish cuisine.
However, this is spurring me on to make the calls, get in touch with the contacts I've been given. I can't WAIT to find and set up my own place. I like the apartment I'm in but it's not mine and I don't want to buy (and have to move) the furniture and kitchen stuff it's lacking in case I end up renting a furnished flat.
Stuff I can't figure out:
1. Where to put my trash.
2. Why the street I live on is on no map, and so, where EXACTLY I am.
But I did want to wander and find a small, cheap, neighborhood cafe. Once I was outside however, I was tired and not in the mood for aimless wandering and anyway lots of things were closed today because it was Sunday. And there was Dominos so I took the easy way out. So much for taking advantage of all that healthy, fresh Turkish cuisine.
However, this is spurring me on to make the calls, get in touch with the contacts I've been given. I can't WAIT to find and set up my own place. I like the apartment I'm in but it's not mine and I don't want to buy (and have to move) the furniture and kitchen stuff it's lacking in case I end up renting a furnished flat.
Stuff I can't figure out:
1. Where to put my trash.
2. Why the street I live on is on no map, and so, where EXACTLY I am.
Sunday
Today I am having a weekend. I made breakfast which took awhile as I couldn't find the pots and pans. I almost went out to eat in frustration but I bought eggs and eventually would have had to find a way to cook them so I opened my laptop, found the instructions for the apartment that Vivian was smart enough to email me, found the pans and made my breakfast: Scrambled eggs with tomatoes and cucumbers and some of the lovely apricot-combo juice (don't really know, it is in Turkish, but it has pictures of several kinds of fruits).
Then I went to Kahvedan, the cafe where all the ex-pats hang out, to fortify myself with coffee because I really, really needed to get a cell phone, but don't like doing stuff like that. I hung out for a couple of hours, writing, thinking, looking at maps, long enough to run into Robin. I met her through a mutual friend on my last trip and she is a friend of Alex, the woman who I took my ESL class with and who has been a great help to me here. Confused? It's all rather incestual here, which is actually kind of nice.
Finally I wandered over to Istiklal Caddesi, the main shopping street in the area. Thankfully it wasn't crowded yet and I walked right up to the TurkCel counter where after a lot of gesturing, pointing, and rudimentary English from the salesman I succeeded in buying a shiny red phone, cim card, and kontour (kind of like minutes). Then I came home and called a few friends to make tentative plans for tomorrow.
The sun is beating down outside, but my apartment is always breezy. I had planned to clean and unpack but the breeze and my book are too tempting so I am lying in the breeze reading. I will put my iPod in Vivian's genius iPod stereo thingy (I think I must get one of those) and clean later.
I just got a note from my new Turkish friend. We met yesterday and she has already sent me the name of another friend who can help me find an apartment. Tomorrow I start calling schools to set up more interviews (I have a job if I want it starting in September, but I think I can do better time and schedule wise) and getting in touch with my apartment finding referrals.
But today is my weekend so right now I am going back to my book.
Things that are different:
1. The egg yolks are REALLY orange.
2. How could I forget? The call to prayer. This also counts as a thing that I love.
Things I love:
1. Unsweetened cherry juice. My new dessert.
2. Big 5L bottles of water we buy for drinking. No idea why I love them. No one here has been able to tell me why even the Turks don't drink the water although it is fine for washing, tooth brushing, etc. Everyone has a different theory. I think the most likely one is that the pipes are so ancient (Roman?) that who knows what deposits and erosions are washing along with the water. Which leads me to ask, why is it that ConEd can't prevent their pipes from blowing up swathes of New York City? But I digress...
3. The sounds of the ship's horns from the Bosphorous.
4. The shower heads you hold in your hand instead of the stationary wall-mounted ones.
5. My dog. She is being awfully good and has adapted well, although I have not been brave enough to take her outside yet.
6. Sitting in a cafe watching the old men leading their lives in the streets.
Then I went to Kahvedan, the cafe where all the ex-pats hang out, to fortify myself with coffee because I really, really needed to get a cell phone, but don't like doing stuff like that. I hung out for a couple of hours, writing, thinking, looking at maps, long enough to run into Robin. I met her through a mutual friend on my last trip and she is a friend of Alex, the woman who I took my ESL class with and who has been a great help to me here. Confused? It's all rather incestual here, which is actually kind of nice.
Finally I wandered over to Istiklal Caddesi, the main shopping street in the area. Thankfully it wasn't crowded yet and I walked right up to the TurkCel counter where after a lot of gesturing, pointing, and rudimentary English from the salesman I succeeded in buying a shiny red phone, cim card, and kontour (kind of like minutes). Then I came home and called a few friends to make tentative plans for tomorrow.
The sun is beating down outside, but my apartment is always breezy. I had planned to clean and unpack but the breeze and my book are too tempting so I am lying in the breeze reading. I will put my iPod in Vivian's genius iPod stereo thingy (I think I must get one of those) and clean later.
I just got a note from my new Turkish friend. We met yesterday and she has already sent me the name of another friend who can help me find an apartment. Tomorrow I start calling schools to set up more interviews (I have a job if I want it starting in September, but I think I can do better time and schedule wise) and getting in touch with my apartment finding referrals.
But today is my weekend so right now I am going back to my book.
Things that are different:
1. The egg yolks are REALLY orange.
2. How could I forget? The call to prayer. This also counts as a thing that I love.
Things I love:
1. Unsweetened cherry juice. My new dessert.
2. Big 5L bottles of water we buy for drinking. No idea why I love them. No one here has been able to tell me why even the Turks don't drink the water although it is fine for washing, tooth brushing, etc. Everyone has a different theory. I think the most likely one is that the pipes are so ancient (Roman?) that who knows what deposits and erosions are washing along with the water. Which leads me to ask, why is it that ConEd can't prevent their pipes from blowing up swathes of New York City? But I digress...
3. The sounds of the ship's horns from the Bosphorous.
4. The shower heads you hold in your hand instead of the stationary wall-mounted ones.
5. My dog. She is being awfully good and has adapted well, although I have not been brave enough to take her outside yet.
6. Sitting in a cafe watching the old men leading their lives in the streets.
Lost and sound
My apartment keeps getting lost. I'm not lost, I usually know exactly where I am which is a huge triumph for someone with the non-sense of direction that I have. I am amazed at how much of what I can reach on foot I remember from previous trips and it's really nice. But finding my apartment is a challenge. There's a lot of wandering. I've passed it twice already without seeing it and I'm sure the guys in the surrounding shops must be getting a good laugh out of that as they don't seem to miss much that goes on in this quiet street.
Part of the problem is that the street I live on curves and does a sharp u-turn, and it's not the only one. It's surrounded by other little streets that jut and curve and twist up and down hills. The hills are incredibly steep, even giving way to streets made up of sharply ascending and descending stone steps which allow for amazing views of the Bosphorous through the crowded stacks of buildings. It's a good place for wandering, but if you're me and you really need a cup of coffee and can't find the cafes it can make for a cranky afternoon.
But now it's late and I'm safely home and just got up to investigate the funny tapping, falling sound outside my kitchen window. It turns out to be two men across the street. They have set up a table on the sidewalk in front of their shop and are playing backgammon. That explains that sound, but the one from this morning is still a mystery. I was almost dressed and ready to leave when I heard a strange sound, almost like a cuckoo clock. I tracked it down to a box near my door. There are three boxes near my door and I have no idea what any of them are for.
The box kept cuckooing and I kept staring at it and wondering what it meant and hoping it's not some kind of fire alarm. It's possible it was someone ringing a bell downstairs, but I wasn't dressed and didn't want to check. Next time I have a friend over I will have them ring the downstairs bell, assuming there even is one and see if that solves the mystery.
Part of the problem is that the street I live on curves and does a sharp u-turn, and it's not the only one. It's surrounded by other little streets that jut and curve and twist up and down hills. The hills are incredibly steep, even giving way to streets made up of sharply ascending and descending stone steps which allow for amazing views of the Bosphorous through the crowded stacks of buildings. It's a good place for wandering, but if you're me and you really need a cup of coffee and can't find the cafes it can make for a cranky afternoon.
But now it's late and I'm safely home and just got up to investigate the funny tapping, falling sound outside my kitchen window. It turns out to be two men across the street. They have set up a table on the sidewalk in front of their shop and are playing backgammon. That explains that sound, but the one from this morning is still a mystery. I was almost dressed and ready to leave when I heard a strange sound, almost like a cuckoo clock. I tracked it down to a box near my door. There are three boxes near my door and I have no idea what any of them are for.
The box kept cuckooing and I kept staring at it and wondering what it meant and hoping it's not some kind of fire alarm. It's possible it was someone ringing a bell downstairs, but I wasn't dressed and didn't want to check. Next time I have a friend over I will have them ring the downstairs bell, assuming there even is one and see if that solves the mystery.
Things that are the same, things that are different
I am up early. As usual when I am in Istanbul I can not sleep late. I think it's something about the light which is clear and bright and I hope it lasts all year because I will be much more productive. But I must learn to go to bed earlier.
It doesn't feel like I live somewhere different when I'm in my apartment (I guess I should start calling it my "flat" but that still seems silly to me). When I venture out though, I feel like "foreigner". I'm sure that will fade a bit with time. Within a few days I always feel right at home, but I guess I will always look like "foreigner" to the Turks.
Last night I ventured out to find food, planning to find a cafe and sit and have a decent meal. Couldn't find the cafes. I'm sure I'm close, I remember this neighborhood and it is packed full of cute cafes, but I went the wrong way and everything was closed down toward the Bosphorous. The good news is I found the tram stop just a few blocks from my place, so now I know EXACTLY where I am. Today I will climb up the hill instead of heading down as I try to find my way to meet Gulten for lunch. Last night I ended up with a can of tuna and some really good juice from a little market across the street. These markets are kind of like the bodegas in New York. Small and they stay open late and have two or three of each item. Some of the stuff is fresh but if you pick up something dusty you know to steer away from that particular item.
Things that are the same:
The sounds of birds outside my window in the morning.
My dog waking me up before I'm ready and then sleeping soundly once I am wide awake.
My apartment never seems quite neat and clean enough.
The sound of helicopters flying far overhead.
There's not enough room for my clothes.
The internet looks mostly the same.
Things that are different:
The sound of cats outside my window at night.
I can see the Bosphorous from my window.
I live across the street from a Ducati dealer and a pet store-- how lucky I am I? No need to search far and wide for Chloe supplies and who knows, maybe I will buy a motorcycle. Or meet the Turkish Fonzie.
I have no idea what anyone is saying to me.
The blogger site is in Turkish. No idea why or how to change it. My 12-word Turkish vocabulary helps me only a little.
Hmmmm. So far more similarities than differences. Interesting.
It doesn't feel like I live somewhere different when I'm in my apartment (I guess I should start calling it my "flat" but that still seems silly to me). When I venture out though, I feel like "foreigner". I'm sure that will fade a bit with time. Within a few days I always feel right at home, but I guess I will always look like "foreigner" to the Turks.
Last night I ventured out to find food, planning to find a cafe and sit and have a decent meal. Couldn't find the cafes. I'm sure I'm close, I remember this neighborhood and it is packed full of cute cafes, but I went the wrong way and everything was closed down toward the Bosphorous. The good news is I found the tram stop just a few blocks from my place, so now I know EXACTLY where I am. Today I will climb up the hill instead of heading down as I try to find my way to meet Gulten for lunch. Last night I ended up with a can of tuna and some really good juice from a little market across the street. These markets are kind of like the bodegas in New York. Small and they stay open late and have two or three of each item. Some of the stuff is fresh but if you pick up something dusty you know to steer away from that particular item.
Things that are the same:
The sounds of birds outside my window in the morning.
My dog waking me up before I'm ready and then sleeping soundly once I am wide awake.
My apartment never seems quite neat and clean enough.
The sound of helicopters flying far overhead.
There's not enough room for my clothes.
The internet looks mostly the same.
Things that are different:
The sound of cats outside my window at night.
I can see the Bosphorous from my window.
I live across the street from a Ducati dealer and a pet store-- how lucky I am I? No need to search far and wide for Chloe supplies and who knows, maybe I will buy a motorcycle. Or meet the Turkish Fonzie.
I have no idea what anyone is saying to me.
The blogger site is in Turkish. No idea why or how to change it. My 12-word Turkish vocabulary helps me only a little.
Hmmmm. So far more similarities than differences. Interesting.
Old friends and new friends.
I've arrived! I officially live in Turkey. Me, my dog, four suitcases, and my MacBook.
Chloe was a trooper, and so far my fears that the Turks would think I was a weirdo for having a fluffy white dog are groundless. Thanks to her, I met Mansour (about 3 years old) and his brother Selim (about 5) at JFK as we were waiting to board. They stayed a few feet away from her for awhile but couldn't resist and just had to pet her, and then I thought Mansour was going to climb in the bag with her!
The three Turkish men in my row on the plane were also interested in her, asked a few questions and then we settled in for a quiet flight, except for one gentleman's insistence that I start learning Turkish RIGHT THEN by reading the in-flight magazine which has Turkish on one side and the English translation on the other. I kind of flipped through it to pacify him (he was actually perfectly nice) and then dozed off.
When I arrived at Ataturk Airport I was a little confused about how to get a big cart since the little ones just weren't going to do, but then I found a porter who loaded my bags on the cart and started wheeling me to the taxi stand. After we passed the crush of people I heard someone calling my name and turned to find Adnan rushing toward me. He is the driver from the hotel where I usually-- used to?-- stay and was waiting for some hotel guests to arrive. We said hello and he asked what I was doing, wondering I'm sure why he wasn't meeting me, and I told him I'm moving but will come visit and he rushed back to find his guests.
When I got to my apartment I asked the driver to wait with my bags and ran up to drop off my dog and carry-on. Alexandra was there to meet me, as promised, and we both rushed down to get the luggage across the small cobblestone street. She took the first one up the two flights of the small spiral marble stairs leading to my sublet apartment while I maneuvered the other three bags to the sidewalk. Then the two gentlemen sitting outside the store next to my building jumped up, swung my bags on their backs and ran them up the stairs. They wouldn't take any money so I will buy them baklava.
I was surprisingly awake for awhile so Alex and I chatted and caught each other up. We may run some errands together over the weekend. But now I'm fading. It's 5:30 and I plan to sleep, take a shower, then venture out for food and water. I think that is challenge enough for my first day.
Chloe was a trooper, and so far my fears that the Turks would think I was a weirdo for having a fluffy white dog are groundless. Thanks to her, I met Mansour (about 3 years old) and his brother Selim (about 5) at JFK as we were waiting to board. They stayed a few feet away from her for awhile but couldn't resist and just had to pet her, and then I thought Mansour was going to climb in the bag with her!
The three Turkish men in my row on the plane were also interested in her, asked a few questions and then we settled in for a quiet flight, except for one gentleman's insistence that I start learning Turkish RIGHT THEN by reading the in-flight magazine which has Turkish on one side and the English translation on the other. I kind of flipped through it to pacify him (he was actually perfectly nice) and then dozed off.
When I arrived at Ataturk Airport I was a little confused about how to get a big cart since the little ones just weren't going to do, but then I found a porter who loaded my bags on the cart and started wheeling me to the taxi stand. After we passed the crush of people I heard someone calling my name and turned to find Adnan rushing toward me. He is the driver from the hotel where I usually-- used to?-- stay and was waiting for some hotel guests to arrive. We said hello and he asked what I was doing, wondering I'm sure why he wasn't meeting me, and I told him I'm moving but will come visit and he rushed back to find his guests.
When I got to my apartment I asked the driver to wait with my bags and ran up to drop off my dog and carry-on. Alexandra was there to meet me, as promised, and we both rushed down to get the luggage across the small cobblestone street. She took the first one up the two flights of the small spiral marble stairs leading to my sublet apartment while I maneuvered the other three bags to the sidewalk. Then the two gentlemen sitting outside the store next to my building jumped up, swung my bags on their backs and ran them up the stairs. They wouldn't take any money so I will buy them baklava.
I was surprisingly awake for awhile so Alex and I chatted and caught each other up. We may run some errands together over the weekend. But now I'm fading. It's 5:30 and I plan to sleep, take a shower, then venture out for food and water. I think that is challenge enough for my first day.
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