Short-Timing Istanbul

 

In travel, as in life, it’s the little annoyances that add up to a huge pain in the ass.

That pain started back in February while I was happily in Cyprus.  The renewal notice for my P.O. Box in the states was up for the year.  Okay.  I tried to log in to pay the bill, but my account had been disabled.  Okay.  Contacted USPS to get it enabled – never got a response.  Great.  Decided, screw it, I’ll send them a check and hope for the best.

Two weeks later, the check hadn’t cleared.  The expiration date on my contract was the last day of February, but the USPS gives you a grace period of ten days after that.  Tried calling the office in Georgia for confirmation that they had at least received the check even if they hadn’t cashed it and never got an answer.  As the date rapidly approached, I tried to open a new account and pay that way.  Nope.  The new account would only turn on automatic payments going forward – it would not allow me to pay the existing bill.

So, now what?

By this time, I had moved on to Istanbul with every intention of staying there until my visa expired in 90 days.  Now, with no other options that I could see and not wanting to risk having the box shut down and all my mail reforwarded, I was left with choice of last resort.

Sigh.

I did not want to return to the States … um … ever.  But certainly not so soon.  I’d just gotten off a plane and felt like my time in Türkiye passed way too quickly.  It didn’t help that the great apartment I’d landed in wasn’t available past the week, so I would have to move anyway.  Just getting out of the apartment was difficult enough in itself.

I mentioned in the last post that my most recent place couldn’t be found on Google Maps.  Apparently, that holds true for Uber as well.  Why does the GPS show my exact location but the driver has stopped a few blocks away?   We tried to message each other to connect, but I finally gave up and just started walking …

With all my crap, up a steep hill covered in uneven cobblestones.  Oy.  Fortunately, the cab/Uber pulled up behind me, so I didn’t have to go too far up that hill.

We had an easy trip to the airport.  I got out of the car and thanked him Turkish only for him to tell me that I owed him 2000 (about $50) lira.  Huh?  I’d used Uber to call him which means that my card would be charged.  I figured there had been a problem with the card as this had never happened to me before. He insisted I owed him money, taking out his calculator and showing me the amount.  I had no money on me – what the hell was I supposed to do?

The nearest ATM was inside, past the security scanners.  So, yes, leaving my luggage with the cabbie, I had to wade through security to get to the machine.  Cash in hand, I dashed back out only to find that the cab had disappeared.  This wasn’t a complete shock as I know you can only park in the drop-off area for a short time. But … where is he?

I wandered around for a good five minutes, getting increasingly upset and annoyed.  Finally, I spotted the guy and paid him.  It felt like paying off a kidnapper to get my luggage back, but I was so grateful he returned that I let it slide.

Thinking I’d resolve the issue later, I went through the usual rigmarole at the airport.  While I like Turkish Airlines and would prefer to just get a transatlantic trip over with as quickly as possible, I still had to prepare my butt for another 12-hour ride.

And that was a fun one, stuck in an aisle seat next to an elderly couple.  Any time the woman said anything, the man’s response was “Huh? Huh?”.  I didn’t know if he was hard of hearing or if he’d just learned to tune out his wife’s voice over the years.

Still irritated by the Uber issue, returning to the states, and the whole reason for the return in the first place, my first choice of in-flight entertainment didn’t help matters.  I’m a big Marvel fan and saw most of the movies in theatre through Avengers: Endgame.  I loved the first Deadpool movie and thought the second one was okay.  I was actually looking forward to seeing Deadpool and Wolverine … until the first scene.  I knew instantly that I wasn’t going to like the movie.  I was wrong.  I hated that movie.

It made my already bad mood truly take a nosedive.  I watched Inside Out 2 to try to lift my spirits.  It was okay.  Not nearly as good as the first movie, but it made for decent entertainment.

Back in the states and thrilled as always, I managed to get a shuttle directly to the rental car center.  Saved me a trip on the tram so that was some good news.  Not nearly enough to mitigate the outrageous price of car rental, but I’ll take what little perks I can get.

I drove the black Genesis car to the hotel.  Never even heard of this car company before and I’m not impressed.  The steering wheel would periodically jerk the car to the side, much to my chagrin while navigating the dark wet streets of Atlanta. 

I was back in the hotel I’d visited several times over the last two years only because I couldn’t find an Airbnb that I liked.  The two apartments I’d visited before and liked were both booked while the others were too far away or too remote for me to even try to locate in the dark when I was tired.  The hotel was in a brightly lit area and easy to get to.  The free breakfast was still tasty despite the exorbitant price of the hotel room.

Once I’d gotten settled in the hotel, it was onto handling business.  The main reason for my trip had been resolved before I’d even arrived.  One of the first things I pulled out of my mailbox was the receipt for the check.  My P.O. Box was secure for another year.  Whew.

H&R block confirmed that I wouldn’t have to file a tax return this year since I STILL have no money coming in.  That was some good news, but the joy only lasted for a minute.  Turns out, my card was charged for the Uber ride to Istanbul Airport.  What the hell?  That means the guy just mugged me. 

I put in a complaint with Uber and they asked for a screenshot to prove I’d taken cash out at the airport.  Tried to do that and my phone wouldn’t allow it.  Seriously!?  Normally, I would just log in on my laptop, but the bank’s website had been blocked on my machine for over a year.  I had tried to get the issue resolved on one of my previous trips to the states to no avail.

The little annoyances.  Remember? 

The issue is still unresolved because I just ran out of steam to try to get it fixed.  With a writing career going nowhere, an online business that is just bleeding money with no returns yet, and a steadily dwindling bank account, I just don’t have the bandwidth for any more challenges.

I am so tired of being frustrated.

Istanbul Awaits

 

If you get a chance to spend a winter in Cyprus, I do recommend it.  The beaches are mostly deserted, the weather is sunny and in the low 60’s most of the time, and it’s just a nice welcoming place.  I truly love it there.

But it was time again.  My 90-day visa was about to expire and, as my Schengen days haven’t quite reset yet, I decided to head back to Türkiye (surprise!).

Why there is no direct flight from Cyprus to Istanbul is baffling to me.  It’s right there! Instead, you’re expected to fly to Athens and get to Türkiye from there.  Even that was more difficult to book than it should have been. 

You can fly from Cyprus directly to Heathrow because, as I’ve mentioned before, the island is full of Brits.  You know where else you can fly directly to from Cyprus?  Warsaw, Poland.  Who’da thunk it?

So then this was the flight I booked, one that took me all the way up to Poland (hey!  A new country!), then all the way back down to Istanbul.  Makes no sense, but at least the trip went off without a hitch.

By this point, I’ve been to Istanbul numerous times.  I always take a cab as I usually get to the city pretty late and the Metro is closed (not that I’ve had much luck riding it anyway).  The cost to Balat (approx. 25 miles away) is around 1000-1400 lira (approx. $30-$40 USD).  Why then did the first cabbie I meet quote me 2300 lira ($60)?  Are you kidding me?  I realize that it was after midnight and they had me over a barrel, but that price is ridiculous!

After fumbling around for a bit and trying to get an Uber, I ran into a guy who offered to take me in his shuttle.  The price he quoted was the expected 1400 lira, but since that was all I had in my purse, I went to search for more cash just in case.  The first ATM was empty.  Great.  I went inside only to see the security set up to scan anyone entering the airport with no other access.  Sigh.

Back outside, I tried to hit Uber again.  The problem there was two-fold.  The first problem was that the address given by my host was not in Google maps so I couldn’t give Uber a proper address.  I would normally stay in one of Mehmet’s places in the neighborhood but since they were all booked, I chose a new place.  I called for an Uber anyway and thought we’d figure it out on the way.

The second problem arose when the driver messaged me to let me know that the airport doesn’t allow Uber to pick up in front of the arrivals gate.  Why?  As I’ve mentioned in a previous post, the Ubers in Türkiye are also taxis (taksis) so what’s the big deal?  Instead, I would have to go to him.

Walk through the long hall with the moving sidewalks to the Metro.  Take the elevator at the end – except, since the Metro was closed, the elevators didn’t work.  Cool.  Take the escalator – which also didn’t seem to work until I approached it and then it woke up. Try to get both roller bags and my tired self on the escalator at the same time.  Fail miserably and let the big roller bag slide down the metal stairs.  Well, better it than me.  I managed to make it down safely to see the cab waiting outside.

Oy.

I tried to tell the cabbie about the address issue and he didn’t have a better time finding the address than I did.  We got to Balat (yay!) and pulled up to an apartment.  He got my stuff out but, sweet man that he is, he again checked the address.  We both realized, on a narrow Turkish street at 2 in the morning, that we were at the wrong place.  Beautiful.

I then checked the message my host had sent me.  Now I know why he included pictures of the place and a separate link to a map.  Dude knew that Google maps didn’t acknowledge the address.  Following these new directions, we actually made it to the right place.  I will be forever grateful to that cabbie for not wanting to strand a foreign woman at the wrong address in the dark.  That man earned every penny of his tip.

The entrance was a new thing for me.  The metal gate can only be accessed by a keypad.  Funny thing, though, you have reach through the bars to get to it.  Really not a fun experience to figure out in the dark. 

The inner door is unlocked and leads to this ever so inviting entry way.

It was late.  I was tired and still optimistic enough to think that my apartment would be the one on the left so that I wouldn’t have to climb those accursed Turkish stairs with all my crap, but … no.    

I truly hate Turkish stairs.

Then it was onto another gated door in front of my apartment.  This one was unlocked and, when opened, awkwardly blocks the entire walkway (WHY?).  I grabbed the keys from the lockbox and finally got into the apartment.

Pictures didn’t do this place justice.  For a one-bedroom apartment in Türkiye, this place is HUGE!  I can’t get over it.  I love the separate office area off the living room where I naturally set up shop.  

There’s also a full-size fridge, a gas stove (thank you!) and an oven.  I don’t remember ever having an oven in Türkiye. 

But, even with all those goodies, there was no microwave.  It was almost perfect.

Then, there’s the noise.  Apparently, there are a couple of American yetis above me, stomping on the floor and talking loudly (that’s how I heard the English).  Also, and I have no idea what this is about, some jerk keeps playing the drums for a few minutes every morning at 3 a.m.  Is this some new religious tradition now that the 6:45 a.m. call to prayer isn’t done anymore?  I don’t know.

I haven’t been in this city in six months.  Been to Portugal and Cyprus (and really didn’t want to leave either country as I was very comfortable in each) since my last visit.  Why then does it feel like I never left Istanbul?  The place feels as familiar to me as ever and, while still being exhausting, I get why I keep coming back here by default.

Alas, Türkiye is about 20 degrees colder than Cyprus which really makes me miss the island.  My second full day was also drizzly in that special way that Istanbul does – just enough cold drops of rain to make everything wet and miserable.  Didn’t miss that from the winter of 2023.

But there are other things I did miss in Türkiye.  One of the items I love to get in the city is a special brand of coffee that I can only find in the Bim grocery store.  After having breakfast at my favorite place in Balat (Simit!  Give me that yummy sesame covered bagel so I can shove it in my face!), I looked forward to grabbing a handful of coffee (they come in individual packets as is very popular in Türkiye).

Why then when I went to Bim’s location, I found a Sok instead?  Sok is the other major grocery chain in the country.  They also have (had) a location just a block away from this Bim.  Sok does not carry my coffee.  What are you doing to me, Türkiye?  Why you go and change on me like that? Where my coffee at?

Fortunately, this was just one store as the Bim chain still exists.  I was lucky to find another location that's even closer to the apartment.  I happily left the store with my caffeine fix in hand.

The second day in the new digs, the power went out just as I was about to make breakfast. Okay.  I figured I’d wait a little while for it to come back on.  A few minutes turned into over an hour as the apartment got cooler and cooler without the heat on.  I gave up on waiting and decided to head out for breakfast.  But there was a problem.

Remember that metal gate at the entrance to the building I mentioned earlier that you have to use a keypad to enter?  Well, with the power off, that keypad doesn’t work.  I figured that one of the two keys provided would be for that gate.  Nope.  I had the wooden door open and was trying both keys in the metal door and could not exit the building.  That is a fire hazard.  Not to mention that, standing at the metal gate looking out onto the street, I felt like a prisoner in what is supposed to be a cozy Airbnb.

Power was restored after about an hour and a half.  With that issue resolved, I might just extend my stay.  It beats having to navigate my luggage down those stairs again any time soon.

Goodbye Turkiye (for now)

 

With my 90-day Turkish visa about to expire, the search began again for a new home.  And though it took me a while to get used to Antalya, I’ve come to love it almost as much as Istanbul, making it doubly hard to leave the country this time.

Newsflash:  I really like Türkiye.

So it was interesting to see an article about the country adopting a new digital nomad visa.  The qualifications look good.  The country wants you to bring in $3,000 a month in salary OR have $30,000 in savings.  I don’t have the job yet (and the hunt for one remains a soul-sucking nightmare), but the savings part looks good.  Also, the other stipulations seem pretty reasonable though I need to do more research.  I still have my heart set on living in Portugal, but hearing news of this visa started me thinking about how great it would be to have a place in both countries.

I’m not rolling in dough like that, but it was still a nice thought.

Since I didn’t want to piss off the Turks by overstaying my welcome, I knew I’d better skedaddle.  Time to boomerang back to Portugal except ... I’m not sure what’s happening to the Airbnb prices there.  I really want to go home but finding a place to stay in Funchal for less than $100 a night is getting tough.  The mainland is no better. 

And, alas, I feel another trip to the U.S. is looming.  I don’t want to return but … mail and supplies and … whatever. 

The fact is, I really hadn’t intended to be nomadic for this long.  My life has become the definition of ‘winging it’.

On my last day in Antalya, I revisited a beachside restaurant called the Dubai Club for lunch.  Not only did the lady with the butt-length braids at the front entrance remember me from the previous week, but one of the waiters also remembered my order.  How did he do that?  I mean, I know I’m somewhat distinctive as one of the few black tourists in the entire city, but still …

The same waiter brought my bill later on.  I asked him when the place closed and he said the restaurant was open from 9 to 2 or 3 in the morning.  He works 10 to 17 hour shifts a couple of days a week.  When my mouth dropped open, he said he was young so he could handle it.  A beach in Antalya is a gorgeous place to work, and he was indeed a young guy, but that schedule is just stupid.

Before long, it was time to pack up and move again.  Grabbed an Uber/cab back to Antalya Airport.  Since this is a smaller airport, getting through the lines wasn’t too arduous, leaving me some time to wander around.

Can someone please tell me why there’s an Arby’s in the Antalya Airport?   Why?  McDonalds and Starbucks I can understand as they are everywhere.  But Arby’s?  Really???

Anyway, another 1 ½ hours back to SAW.  I grabbed another cab and headed for a hotel that was closer to Istanbul Airport for my next international flight.  Now, by this point, I had taken numerous taxis to and from both SAW and Istanbul into the city.  The cost was usually around 1000-1400 lira – approximately $30-$40 USD.  Imagine my shock when traveling between the airports saw the price almost triple.  Are you serious? 

That bill just added to the stress of the travel day even as I checked into the hotel.  The lovely receptionist listened to my woes, telling me I got scammed and offered me a cup of coffee. I declined, deciding to drop my stuff off and find something to eat.

The Fly Point Hotel is located in the Arnavutkoy neighborhood of Istanbul.  This is very much an in-between place for tourists needing access to Istanbul Airport.  There are a lot of hotels in the area and the restaurants have most of their prices in euros instead of lira.  I was still in lira mode so this surprised me more than anything else.

Taking a walk around, I was happy to see the mosques, flags, stores, and animals that are part of the Turkish experience.  The rest of the area was kind of industrial and not much to look at.  It just made me miss Balat and the Bosphorus.

A single night in the hotel, my last Turkish breakfast for a while (buffet style this time along with a cappuccino from one of those nifty coffee machines), then I checked out of the room.  I sat in the lobby of the hotel for a few hours as my flight didn't leave until around 6 p.m.

A quick (and cheap) Uber to Istanbul Airport and, after going through initial security, I checked the big board for my flight.  How come every flight was listed for several hours before and after mine and yet my flight was missing?  I kept checking my phone and checking the board but came up with nothing.  

Eventually I had to hit two information desks before I could get an answer.  Apparently, my flight had been cancelled and I'd been bumped to the next one leaving at 7.  After some more waiting for the ticket booth to open, I quickly checked my bag and got my ticket.

Even though my initial entry into the country was over a year ago (!), the experience is still quite vivid in my mind.  Because of that, going through Turkish passport control will always make me nervous.  But, once again, there were no issues.  I hadn't overstayed my time and the laws hadn't changed since entering the country.  Sphincter unclenched, I traveled the 20 miles through the airport to wait for my next flight.

Antalya Part 2

 

It took me awhile to adjust to the city, but I’ve come to appreciate it as a separate entity from Istanbul.  It amazes me that beach towns everywhere are similar regardless of the country.  It’s the palm trees, the laid-back atmosphere, the waitstaff dressed in shorts and comfy shoes.  Türkiye adds its own flavor with the vendors walking the beach selling Turkish pastries and corn on the cob.  Most of the restaurants on the beach offer hookah and shisha pipes that just adds to the chill out vibe.

I was able to extend my time in the apartment for a total of three weeks.  The host was good enough to give me a discount by paying in cash.  I always appreciate having to spend less money, but it meant doing the legwork to find the bills in USD.  There is a row of ATMS near the beach and some do offer other denominations.  Of course, I had to try multiple ones to find the USD, ran into cash limits, had to call the bank to make sure I didn’t hit any fraud alerts, give half to the host on one day and to his father on another day, yadda, yadda, yadda.  It’s all done now, but I’m still not sure if the discount was worth all the hassle.

It’s about 1 ½ miles from the apartment to the beach, an easy walk on the wide, still nearly deserted sidewalks.  The issue remains the heat.  Temps didn’t reach the 100-degree mark again (thank goodness), but it is still quite toasty in Antalya in August.  I quickly learned to carry a towel with me to mop up the endless amounts of sweat.

The beach is covered in restaurants, usually with a large sitting area right on the on the water.  I don’t usually hit these places because I know the prices are seriously jacked up.  Turns out, the couple of places I’ve visited so far, the food is not that pricey.  It costs around 10 bucks for time on one of the chaises.  But (unsurprisingly) the drinks are where they get ya.  I had a lovely cosmo on the beach that was about twice the lira I paid at a bar just off the beach.  Still, I could not resist the experience of relaxing by the Mediterranean with a nice adult beverage.  I even made a new friend one day.

The job search continues.  Since the search engines and job listings appear to be horribly broken, I try to find as many alternate sources of income as possible.  My writing on Medium has made me few bucks but nothing to sustain me yet.  I have to keep reminding myself that it’s a marathon and not a sprint and continue to be grateful for every new subscriber I get.

In trying to find a new source of income, I decided to open an Instagram account.  Nothing major, just thought I’d post some of the travel photos and videos that didn’t make it to this blog.  I went through all the steps to open the account, not really knowing how to proceed after that, and shut the program down.  A few hours later, I got someone trying to message me on the program. 

Guess.  Just guess who it was.

If you said Zaza, you get a WHAT THE HELL IS MY LIFE RIGHT NOW?!!!??

Hours!  I’d had a profile on the website for hours!  The only picture I posted was a profile pic, a rare selfie I took in Istanbul last year.  How did he clock it so quickly?  Why is he clocking it at all?

Please note: I have not seen this man in person since last July.  I last spoke with him in September when I broke it off.  He’s tried to text and call a few times since then but I can’t remember the last time he did.  Now, a year after our last meeting, on an app I’ve never been on and didn’t know he was on, I get a message.  He was my first subscriber.  WHAT THE HELL!?!?!?!?

I realized only later that the program taps into WhatsApp and, of course, it picked up Zaza’s name along with one of my former hosts.  It also brought up my brother’s name as a possible connection – someone else I haven’t spoken to in a long time (and don’t care to speak to again).  This is somewhat disturbing and just reminds me why I avoided social media for so long.  I’m not sure opening the account was the best idea.

And I just wanted to post some travel pics …

A last note:  Lisbon experienced the biggest earthquake it’s had in a decade on Monday 8/26/24.  Fortunately, there weren’t any deaths and very little damage.  So good to hear.  I think I’m headed back to Portugal soon.

Antalya

 

Well.

I had to leave Istanbul eventually.  I guess.

The reason I was able to stay in that apartment for so long is because it was (inexplicably) available for weeks at a time.  And boy, was it tempting to just stay there until my 90-day visa expired. 

But I told myself I would explore more of Türkiye on this visit.  So … I guess I’m packing up and getting on another plane.

Yay.

Getting my big suitcase down those stairs (!) left my right arm sore for days afterward.  Using an Uber/cab to get to Sabina Gokcen airport (the city’s smaller airport with the call letters SAW) had me feeling that same melancholy of leaving Istanbul again.  Waiting in line at the airport to check my bag when the kiosk(s) refused to acknowledge my reservation was exhausting.  Getting to the end of that line, having the woman wave me over (at least, that’s what I thought she was doing), and then immediately leave her desk left me standing there looking like a goober for several more minutes before getting some help.

So yeah.  That was a bunch of fun travel stuff.

I want to go back to Balat.

But, instead, it was onto a new place.  Which is a good thing.  Right?

The flight from SAW to Antalya took about 1 ½ hours, an easy trip.  After waiting too long to get my bag, I grabbed a cab and proceeded to my new home for the week. 

My first impression of the city: this is really not Istanbul.  I know that is an obvious statement to make.  Istanbul is an ancient, unique city and there was no reason for me to think that the rest of Türkiye would look like one city.  But still … this place was a shock.

The wide tree-lined streets, the blocks of modern apartments, the lack of pedestrians on the sidewalks – all of it had me staring out the cab window in shock.  And then there are the mountains.  They are freaking gorgeous!  I can’t get over them.

My new host provided a picture of the building, which helped tremendously as most of the buildings in the area look alike.  The apartment is located above an Eczane pharmacy.  No, not that one.  The closer one (seriously, those pharmacies are EVERYWHERE – I think there are more branches of drugstores than there are grocery stores in this area).  I got inside without issue and into the elevator.  And then the confusion began.

The apartment was #14 on the 5^th floor.  But the elevator only goes up to 4.  Okay.  Got to the fourth floor and noticed that there was another set of stairs going up.  Really?  Here I was so grateful to be in a building with an elevator after having to deal with those horrible stairs in Balat.  Now you still want me to lug my stuff up an additional flight of stairs?  What did I ever to do to you, Türkiye?

Oh, but the fun didn’t stop there.  #14 was at the end of the hall.  The host had sent another picture of the set of two pipe fittings where the key was located.  Took me a minute to find them, then I spent another ten minutes trying to fit either one of the two keys into the two locks.  All of this while sweating buckets in a hallway where the motion-detecting lights keep flicking off after a few seconds, leaving me to figure things out in near darkness.  Sigh.

After some text exchanges with the host, taking breaks to wave my arms around like a madwoman to get the lights to come back on, I finally got the door open … only to find that the apartment was even hotter than the hallway.  It was like entering the gates of hell – if hell was a spacious one-bedroom with a killer view of the mountains.

Unfortunately, with the air conditioning off and the blinds open, the blaring sun had super-heated the place.  I scrambled for the A/C remote before doing anything else.  I took the picture above (ooohh pretty) then quickly closed the blinds.  I think those puppies need to stay shut for the duration of my stay.

I knew from the picture on the website that I wouldn’t like the light gray wood flooring, but I love the gas oven and stovetop.  Though I wasn’t thrilled to realize there was no microwave and the electric kettle didn’t work.  Added to my other issues with the place and I just had to shake my head.

Admit it, Turks:  someone was on the hookah when they designed this building. “Yeah, dude (or the Turkish equivalent of dude)!  Let’s make a building with 7 floors have an elevator that only works on five of ‘em.  Keep everyone on their toes.  And why bother putting a toilet paper holder in the bathroom?  Who really uses paper in that room anyway?”

Complaints aside, it’s not a bad apartment.  I might just extend my stay to stave off another trip to the airport so soon.

With my stuff stashed and evening fast approaching, I got on the good foot to explore my new surroundings and find something to eat.  As is my way, I headed toward the water, the main draw bringing me to this city.

Antalya sits on the Mediterranean coast and has the air of a seaside city.  Walking along the wide, nearly deserted sidewalks just added to my sense of displaced weirdness.  The place feels like part Portugal (the high-rise apartment buildings) and part Cyprus (the shoreline) with a sprinkle of Sunny Beach, Bulgaria (the lack of foot traffic).  Throw some Turkish flags around and the occasional stray cat and you have Antalya.  It is very weird.  Not bad.  Just weird.

And why are there goats?  Who do they belong to?  Why, after seeing them once, have I not seen them again?  Where did they go?

Why, on my first day, did I already miss Istanbul?

(Man, has that place got a hold on me!) 

The first restaurant that I stumbled on turned out to be more high-end than I thought.  While I had a simple meal of shrimp followed by a piece of cheesecake, the restaurant offered something for the more luxury minded diner.  Their Gold Tomahawk Steak King Size went for 19,000 lira.  That’s $565 USD.  For a piece of meat with gold on it.  Meanwhile, taking a picture of the menu was absolutely free!

Walking back to the apartment in the dark, it struck me again that I wasn’t too concerned about crime.  Sure, I was in new territory and was an obvious tourist, but the Turks were as uninterested in me in Antalya as they were in Istanbul.  I ended up approaching the lone mosque in the city just as the call to prayer rang out.  I was relieved to hear that sound. It wasn’t as epic as the experience of walking along the Bosphorus and hearing the call from all sides, but it was still good to hear.

It is punishingly hot in Antalya.  I noticed it the moment I stepped out of the airport.  Even Istanbul wasn’t this hot and at least there was a breeze.  But being on the Mediterranean in August is an entirely different animal.  On my first full day, I went exploring after breakfast and it didn’t take long before the sweat was dripping.  Even my phone began to overheat and I’d barely touched it.

By Saturday, 8/17/24, the temps reached 100 degrees F by 11:15 a.m.  That struck me as a good reason to stay inside to get some writing done.  Under the air conditioner.

The Joys of Staying Put (Turkish Edition)

 

Things still go well in Istanbul.  I extended my stay in the apartment for a total of six weeks, making it the longest I’ve stayed in any one place over the last year.  Yep.  I am definitely ready to be housed.

It wasn’t only the move (and those dreaded stairs) that turned me off.  I had a salad one afternoon that did not agree with me.  It continued to remind me of its presence for DAYS afterwards.  I could not imagine dealing with another crazy cab driver, another trip through an airport, and another (albeit short) plane ride to another part of Türkiye with my stomach loudly calling me names the entire time. 

After looking for alternative means of income and AGAIN being rejected along with having the digestive issues, I took a week off from looking for a job or taking classes. A vacation from my vacation, if you will.  I spent much of my time lying on the couch.  I totally blame my host, Mehmet, for making all of his places so damn cozy.

Speaking of Mehmet, I had a couple of visits from him one week to do some repairs.  While the AC was fine in my apartment, the one across from me was having issues.  The balcony of my place has access to the units on the roof so there were people traipsing in and out on two separate occasions. 

                            Not exactly a memory for the ages, but I thought the sky was pretty that day.

The ease of getting my HBP meds still amazes me.  On one of my last trips to the city, when I asked the guy if he carried the meds he said “Sure.  How many boxes do you want?”  Can I tell you how much that this is not the norm in the states?  To get my meds there, I’d have to have a current prescription which requires a doctor’s visit and, unless I want to pay through the nose, some decent insurance.  Even then, there was no guarantee that the pharmacy would have gotten the shipment.  It was just a hassle from start to finish.

It was easier when I was employed and had the mail in service.  Though even then, I’d sometimes get substitutes without warning.  Or even worse, the drug would be backordered and no one would bother to tell me.  It’s not like I need this drug to LIVE or anything …

On this most recent trip to the pharmacy, the lady didn’t even have to go to the back or check her computer.  She just reached behind her and got the box.  185 lira for 28 pills – approximately 5.50 USD.  That would be about $33 for a 90-day supply while I paid $125 as a co-pay for the same amount in the states.  And while there are pharmacies everywhere in Istanbul, I just saw a report on how CVS and Walgreens are closing several of their locations in the U.S. Like the cost of the medication and the need for a car aren't obstacle enough, now people have to worry about being in pharmaceutical deserts.

While most things are still amazingly cheap things here, I have noticed some effects of inflation.  When I first arrived a few weeks ago, a simit on the street cost 10 lira – the same amount from last year.  Now the price has risen to 15 lira.  The price of other products in the stores have gone up as well though it’s still cheap compared to the U.S.

Though I’m familiar with the neighborhood and the surrounds by now, there’s always something new to discover.  I usually take Galata Bridge over the Bosphorus when I want to get to Istiklal Street.  One day I decided to walk past the string of restaurants underneath the bridge.  I chose one for lunch and had a lovely meal (and an adult beverage) directly over the water while watching the boats go by.

About a week later, I went to the same place.  One of the guys who worked there recognized me, shook my hand, then said “Cosmopolitan?”  I could not believe he remembered my order!  Granted, very few tourists look like me … but still.  I do love when that happens.

Another alternate trail took me away from the shore and my normal route by the Bosphorus.  This one ran underneath the car traffic and along the tram tracks.  I had no idea the tunnel had this artwork all along it depicting scenes from Turkish films over the years.

Getting Comfortable in Balat

 

My Airbnb host, Mehmet, is very familiar with me by now.  With all his properties in total, I’ve stayed with him longer than I’ve stayed anywhere else during this journey.  Since lucky #7 was booked right after my stay, I arranged to stay in the building next door.  I initially booked it for only a couple of weeks but extended it to the entire month of July once I saw the place.

Not to even mention the fact that apartment #5 is at the top of a series of windy, stone stairs that I did not relish having to navigate again so soon with all my stuff.

All of these apartments have the same basic look, but they are all slightly different in their layout.  This is the first of Mehmet’s places that has a balcony (two, actually, but the door to the bedroom balcony is locked).  I loved the view and the breeze coming off the water.

While the apartment is as lovely (if smaller) than the other two places I’ve stayed in Balat, it did have some … issues.  The day after moving in, I did a load of laundry.  Pretty standard stuff until the cycle ended and the door wouldn’t open.  As this was another machine with the instructions written in Turkish, it was time to consult Google.

Apparently, I’d overloaded the machine and it refused to drain the water.  The door would not open while the machine was full of water (most machines in Europe have been side loaders).  Thus began the ever so fun process of manually draining the water from the bottom of the machine, something I have never had to do in my life.  In a brand new (for me) apartment.  Using a towel and a glass to try to catch the seemingly never-ending stream of water spewing out of the hole onto the hardwood floor.

I just wanted to clean my clothes.

It took FOREVER.  So much water.  But eventually, I drained the machine, put it through another rinse cycle (I wanted to just spin the clothes but, again, Turkish instructions), and ta da!  The door opened.  I’ve never been so happy to see my clean drawers again.

Then the dread set in.  I’d be in the apartment for awhile and I would have to do the laundry again. 

Later that afternoon, the power went out.  This is the first time I can recall where I’ve had power disruption in Istanbul.  I guess that’s a pretty good track record but it’s never fun to experience.  I napped during the outage (the short but brutal travel from the day before caught up to me – those stairs will haunt my nightmares), only to be awakened a couple hours later by a beeping coming from somewhere in the apartment.  Some sleuthing led me to the fridge.  Opening the door, I saw a blinking light and a button that needed to be pushed to stop the beeping.  Okay.  That was new.

While my love affair with this city continues, there are some things that remind me that this could not be my home for an extended period.  The thing is, even with the number of times I’ve been to this country, I still feel like the alien.  It’s not just the language barrier or that there aren’t many black folk here.  It’s seeing the women in the burkas and worrying about showing my legs in public.  While it’s not as hot this year as it was last year, it’s still warm enough to wear the shorts so I will be wearing them.  No one really cares as there are plenty of natives also wearing shorts or short skirts, but it’s still in the back of my mind.  Nothing says ‘tourist’ more than being a tall black woman wearing shorts in Türkiye.  At least that’s how I see it.

There’s also the issue with scammers.  I read a lot about Istanbul last year.  One of the common scams in the city is for a man to pass by you while walking and drop a brush.  When you pick it up and try to return it, the man engages you in conversation which eventually leads to him offering to shine your shoes for a fee.  The dropped brush has happened to me three times (so far).  The first time I picked up the brush on instinct, but simply returned it and kept walking while he called after me.  Dude, I’m wearing sneakers.  Let’s be real.

The last two times happened during this most recent trip while walking the same road.  I was proud of myself for not even breaking stride while ignoring the brush.  I still wasn’t thrilled at being targeted again.  I don’t know that anything will stop that other than donning my own burka. 

Yeah.  That’s not happening.  I feel overheated just looking at those women wearing all that cloth.

I’ve also been rather aggressively approached by children a couple of times.  One kid followed me for several feet while holding out a bottle of water despite my waving my hand to ward him off.  Another little girl approached me while I was walking along the Bosphorus and stood in front of me with her hand out, walking backwards while I tried to get around her.  I really don’t like that.  I don’t like anyone seeing me as an easy mark.  Seriously, just leave me alone.

I know I'm now speaking as a spoiled American, but I have to mention this.  While the grocery stores are close by and plentiful, the selection leaves something to be desired.  Namely broccoli and pecans, both staples of my diet.  Even my beloved Granny Smith apples can be difficult to find.  I've already consigned myself to live without kale once I move abroad (I have yet to find it in any of the countries I've visited), but I really miss the other things.  Fortunately, I can find those items in Portugal (scoring it yet another point).  Still no kale, though,

But there are a few good things happening as well.  This summer hasn’t been as hot as it was last year.  There’s even been a breeze on most days.  I still don’t recommend coming to Istanbul in the summer if you’re not ready for the relentless heat but, from all accounts, other parts of Europe have had it worse this year.

I shared a picture in a previous post of all the construction going on in the city.  Well, here it is a few months later and a lot of work has been completed.  There are now actual sidewalks leading to the city center.  You have no idea how awesome that it.  I still remember walking from Balat to Sultanahmet last year and spending half of the time in the street dodging cars because the sidewalks were barely there.  Or there were cars parked on the curb, or chairs set out in front of cafes, or any other number of obstacles that had to be skirted around and negotiated with other pedestrians.   You can clearly tell that I’m not the only one to appreciate the nice, level walking surfaces.  The pavers have only been in place for a few months and they already look like they’ve been there forever.

The work is ongoing so walking can still be … interesting.  But I’m glad to see the city’s commitment to getting the job done.

One last note.  I found a new favorite place for breakfast in Balat.  I’d eaten at this place last year but had yet to experience the beauty of the back deck.  I think the owner is French as I’ve seen a man walking around with an accent a few times.  It’s just such a pleasant yet strange sensation to be a black American woman eating Turkish breakfast in a bright sunny space while French music is playing.  Doing it international style, baby!

We Now Return to Our Regularly Scheduled Programming

 

                                                                        Istanbul Airport

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.