the id, the ego, & the single misfiring brain cell

i have a couple of new friends

First thing this morning, I had a nice breakfast (the spread here at the Swissotel beats all you've ever seen), and strolled down to meet the housing referral office people to go see more potential homes. This time, we went to the Konak and Mithatpaşa areas.

The first place I checked out, I fell in love with. However, I am in denial that I am in love, and am pressing forward with looking at other properties, a couple across the bay (there's a ferry). I did, however, give my beloved an engagement ring (I put it on hold, which is good for three business days). Just to be sure. Because who am I kidding?

I know you want pictures. I know. I KNOW. OK? But here's the problem.

I don't have any.

But I can explain.* Neither my camera nor my cell phone which is a camera are routinely part of my daily ensemble.** I took the camera with me on my first day of inprocessing and had to leave it in a safe box at the gate when I went into the NATO complex.*** In order to avoid the hassle, I decided to leave it behind henceforth, since a lot of the places I go are fairly high security. Besides...I took some wonderful shots off my balcony in the hotel that night, and discovered just afterward, when I came here to share them, that the specialized cable I use to link my camera to my computer was attached to my desktop when the movers came. This means I don't have it. I lack it. I have it not. This leaves us with the phone....

* Provide an excuse in such a fashion that it sounds a bit like an explanation.

** I was wondering how I was going to get all that into one sentence.

*** See? Just like a prison! Right?

NATO issued me a phone the first day. Apparently, it's an unspeakable hassle to use your own phone with a new SIM card here, so they just issue you one (pay as you go). Of course, this phone doesn't have a camera on it (it's one of those obsolete models the military no doubt bought for pennies). I leave the other phone here because...see above.

Thus, I have my adventures and have no photos to show for it. So I come to you, on my knees, with words, paltry words....

But I'll take pics tomorrow. I have a day off and plan to go street hiking. I might even find a place I can get a cable to fit my camera proper. ;) Then you'll be in for it. Then you'll be sorry you ever mentioned pictures....

So anyway. On the househunting bit. I picked some stuff farther from the city's center and thus (yes) more upscale than the stuff I looked at yesterday. The first place I walked into today...oh. Oh my.

I want to describe this pad, but words will fail. I'll try anyway.

It's an absolutely average apartment. No view, no artistry. Purely functional. ;) Right.

Yeah, you'll have to wait for the pics. I seriously doubt I'll find any place to top this one.

I looked at the house, too, as advised. Nice neighborhood, although several houses have clearly gone unoccupied for a while. It has lemon trees in the yard. It is coal heated. It has been completely renovated so all the floors are new, the walls painted, the fixtures unused (kitchen and all four bathrooms). It has wires dangling from the ceiling and the Housing Referral Office isn't sure whether the landlord would put in fixtures or leave that to me (?). It's right at my cap, though, and the neighborhood is...well, a regular neighborhood. They're worried that I would be too far from work.

City folk. I swear. If they have to commute, in any fashion, more than 15 minutes, they think this is a huge inconvenience. To me, it just means I live away from it all--which is good. It looks like maybe 6 kilometers or so. No wait. That's the place I'm inexplicably drawn to. The other pad is maybe 10k from the NATO complex. Seriously? I could walk that, no worse for wear, in a little over an hour. (Sez me, not having experienced Izmir summers.... OK then. I could take a bus for that, no worse for wear, in far less time.)

But the house needs work, and it's heated via coal (?). The wires dangling from the ceiling are not something I--as a renter--wish to deal with. So...probably not the house, even though it looks amazing and even has a fenced yard which means, yes, another pit bull.

Anyway. There was another apartment in the middle that was immaculate, in a wonderful neighborhood (upscale), with a wonderful view, that was just...an apartment. A noisy one, at that, with a weird heating room up through the middle of it (where they apparently burn coal or somesuch...the thing's about 6 X 10) with windows into that room (?!). It had a doorman and was a nice pad, all told, but...no. Not even considering that one.

Anyhow. I returned to the Housing office and put a hold on my new lover, then went down to the medical people with whom I had an appointment at 1pm. It was almost 12 when I walked in. I said I had an appointment at 1 and had nothing else to do and would wait. The receptionist (native) said, "Well, we will close for lunch, but"--she looked a bit uncertain--"you can wait."

I said, "OK," and picked up the latest Air Force Times to read about the new RIFs and forced early retirements. The Master Sergeant who apparently runs the place walked through and asked why I was there. She explained that I had an appointment for 1 and I would wait through lunch. He looked at her quizzically and said, "Has she filled out the forms?"

The woman, suddenly abashed--if I may use such a word--said, "No." Then she scrambled to give them to me.

Pause for comment on culture: I get the early impression (through more than this experience) that women are afraid to question or offend men here. He reacted to her explanation of why I was there with very pointed patience, as though he'd dealt with this before and couldn't get it through her head that the customer comes first. I did the forms, she asked for information I'd missed or misinterpreted, and he called me back. He offered me a typhoid vaccination, and I declined. He said, "You may hate the shot, but you'll really hate typhoid. It's really prevalent here."

I said, "You win," and pulled up my sleeve.

My arm hurts.

Then he briefed me on the medical ROEs (Rules of Engagement) here. To wit: If you walk into a restaurant and wonder if you should eat here, don't. You'll see lots of dogs and cats wandering around the city; some of the dogs have tags in their ears and some of the cats have notches in theirs, which means they've been vaccinated by the city (?!) at some point. Do not pet them, as their vaccinations may have expired. Only drink water out of a bottle. If you need medications or you need to consult a specialist (and it isn't an emergency), call us to schedule it for you. If you need any serious medical attention, we'll fly you to Incirlik (pronounced injure-lick). He made sure I have a card to carry with me just in case I get hit by the proverbial bus. It says in English and Turkish: PLEASE TAKE ME TO A MEDICAL FACILITY.

Duh.

So that was over, and I was on my way back to the hotel because my jet lag is hanging in there, when I ran across my non-Christian Jesus friend. He saw me coming from the Hilton to then Swissotel and asked if I wanted another one of his brother's sandwiches. I said no; I want to try a kabob today. He said, "I know where you can get best kabob. Number 1! Not far. I take you. You trust me?"

I said, "I don't know. Do I?"

He smiles and starts walking me down a side street, chatting all the while. Nothing about Jesus this time. We round then corner and we come to Sevgiyolu's. He stops and quietly motions me inside, bowing his head politely: "Please." When I walked in, he chatted with the proprietor. They were probably talking about what huge boobs I have. I dunno.

Sorry. Don't know where that came from. (Yeah I do. Anne Cater. Old friend, less endowed than even I. Still a great joke. If you didn't laugh, what's the matter with you?)

They motioned me away from the lesser table I chose to select, based on the limited size of our party (2, since it was clear he planned to join me), and to a larger, less windy table.* We were seated, and the proprietor came over to take our order. I asked what was the favorite. It was the Sarma Beyti, which is apparently a traditional dish. It comes with a couple of roasted tomatoes and some seasoned bulgar (think dirty rice, but it's bulgar, which tastes the same, but it's healthier).

* Jesus would be proud of me.

Over lunch, he taught me some Turkish phrases which are helpful and which haven't arisen with the Rosetta Stone yet. I'm learning how to say "the girl jumps" and I need stuff like "thank you," "you're welcome," and "where's the toilet?"

Mid-meal, a waiter came by and talked with Ali (my new friend). He explained that the proprietor wanted to buy me an after-dinner drink. I asked for coffee (kahve), as I wanted to try it.

Turkish coffee is a strange mix of espresso and chocolate, with sugar. In my opinion, of course. It's delicious.

When we left the restaurant, he took me to meet his cousin (Emmett, but he probably spells it strange) who sells carpets at the Bazaar. We went up into the room where they keep the carpets, where Emmett began to explain carpeting to me.

At some point, he placed a small square of knotted silk carpet in my hands. The weave and knots were unbelievably tight--so tight you couldn't see the knots--and the design, intricate. The piece may have been 12 X 18 inches. He said it took 7 years to create, and was worth $15,000.

Hmmmmm. OK. So uh. Silk might be out of my price range. At least, tightly knotted silk like that. (But really, most silk work is incredibly expensive. Silk is hard to work with.)

He threw a bunch of carpets at my feet until I told him to desist. Then he asked me to choose my favorite. I did. He offered me a price. It was a very nice price indeed, but I'd told him I wasn't buying today--just getting a feel for it, and I'd be back later--and I meant it. He gave me his card, embraced me as a friend, and Ali walked me back to my hotel.

Ali's mom is going to hand-knit me a winter cap. Because I don't wear one? Not sure. Don't get the logic, but the sentiment is true.

Then I grabbed my laundry and hoofed it down into the center of town to the hidden BX/Commissary and promptly got lost. So I walked an extra mile or more at Turkish speed (they walk like they're going somewhere, unless they're old, grey, and slightly crippled) before I found The Secret Door.

I started my laundry and wandered into the Hidden Carpet place to meet Bahar. I'd heard about her, that she sells carpets a bit pricier than one can get on the economy, but she is awesome and worth knowing. I met a new person while there--there seems to be a huge turnover of personnel at NATO right now--and when she and Janelle (my friend from breakfast yesterday) left to shop, I stayed and chatted with Bahar for another hour and a half (while I did my laundry). And I looked at carpets.

She offers Persian carpets, which have a distinctively intricate pattern. Well...she offers a handful of Persians. The rest are Turkish, of course, all well made.

Before I left, Bahar gave me some Turkish nuts (very, very salty roasted peanuts) to nip on tonight. On my way back, Ali asked to help me with my laundry back to the hotel. I said no thanks.

Tomorrow, I'm going street hiking with a camera.

Brace yourselves.

d