Yeah, well, that wasn’t the end of the matter.
After yet another flight to Istanbul, another cab ride back
to the apartment in Balat that I had recently vacated, and hooking up all my
electronics again, I discovered there was still more paperwork to sign. The lawyer contacted me with news of more
last-minute changes. Glad that our
communication was written out so she couldn’t see me rolling my eyes and sighing,
I told her where I was and that there was no way in hell I was heading back to
the states any time soon. She suggested
that the father, as the executor of the will, could sign in my stead. Yeah.
Do that. Whatever.
Don’t get me wrong. I
was pleased (is that the word?) to even be mentioned in the will. My aunt and I had not seen each other in
decades. While she was technically my
god-mother, neither of us had made much of an effort to stay in contact. I only heard from her again after her husband
died a few years ago.
It’s just that repeatedly dealing with lawyers and everything
being rush-rush after months of zero activity just had me kind of anxious. It didn't help that I found out this latest news after getting off yet another long-haul flight. I was eager to put all that away and get back
to finding a life for myself.
After a few more arrangements, the matter was finally
settled. I also settled quite easily
back into my routine in Türkiye. Looking
for jobs, writing, trying to finish my seemingly never-ending data analysis course
on Coursera. The usual.
I’d added some more money to my phone's esim for Türkiye, but it
turned out to be unnecessary. Google Fi continued
to work when I got off the plane. I
thought initially that they had reestablished my international service because of
the new sim card I’d installed. But, no,
I bought this card after Jamaica (thanks!) before my last trip to Türkiye. I guess they reset my roaming period after
being in the states for more than a week.
Well, time to take full advantage of it before they cut me off again because, no, I have no interest in spending any
more extended time in the U.S.
I’ve never called Istanbul a quiet place. I’ve always referred to it as chaos in city
form. Below is a picture of some of that
chaos. The walk to Sultanamet from Balat
is a tricky one. The city is trying to make
it easier by laying down sidewalk.
They were working on the project when I first visited the neighborhood
last year and have made some progress. The
work crews are still there, though, and the area is currently even more of a
mess.
There is a shared courtyard behind trusty #7
in Balat right outside of the bedroom.
I’ve seen people playing ball there, hanging out clothes to dry, and
using the area to feed animals. The
animals are where this space becomes a problem.
The cats are everywhere in this city and are a big part of
its charm. Not so much when they are
screeching in the middle of the night, particularly during this time of
year. Spring is almost here. Time to make little cats. It’s one thing to hear a single cat in heat
outside of my house in Georgia. It’s an
entirely other matter to hear multiple cats all around the apartment in
surround sound.
The birds are another part of what makes the city
special. The seagulls are a welcome part
of the skyline, hovering over the water or fighting with each other over scraps
of bread on the ground. But when they
all decide to squawk at the same time, I swear the sound makes me feel like I’m
in the jungles of Costa Rica again.
And then there’s that damn rooster. There’s a chicken coop in that same courtyard. Every morning, before the call to prayer, after the call, sometimes during the call, that rooster is making a ruckus. Like I wasn’t already awake.
I really need to kill that bird. Kill it, eat it, and mount its head on the
wall of my new apartment.
Add all of this noise to the honking cars, the snoring of
one of my neighbors, and the regular calls to prayer and sleep was not always
the easiest thing to do in that apartment.
This left me with too much time to think when all I wanted to do was
sleep.
I’d think about all the places I’ve been, about how razor sharp
my memory has become over the last year.
Some random event will pop into my head like a road I passed through or
a meal I had and instantly I would know where I was when those things happened. I’d end up giggling in the dark at the
memory.
But the good thoughts would only last so long and then I’d
be plunged into existential dread. I
still want a stable home, but to attain one I need a steady job. Multiple sources have described this as a
particularly horrible job market. The rise
of AI concerns me while I try to establish a writing career as does my
struggle to stay focused.
Living in Portugal is still the goal, but I know full well
that the country doesn’t care about my plans.
There have been a lot of changes in the government recently that I’ve
been monitoring. They look to end their
tax incentive programs for foreigners if they haven’t done so already. The price of everything is rising there as it
is everywhere. I don’t know if I’ll make
enough at the job I don’t even have yet to survive there.
I’m doing okay for money so far and for that I’m grateful. I know there are people who are seriously struggling
right now. But, with nothing coming in,
the money will eventually run out. I don’t
want to get so desperate for a job that I end up back in the states having to
start over from scratch. And even if I did
move back, getting a job is still not a guarantee.
The world still feels like it’s heading straight into the crapper,
doesn’t matter where I am when it happens.
I sometimes feel like I’m on the cusp of figuring things out,
but I just can’t make all the right connections.
I don’t know. Being
alone so much has my mind racing sometimes.
Fortunately, the days keep me too occupied to worry so
much. Just navigating the streets of
Balat is a full-body, deep thought endeavor.
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