Friday, June 27, 2008
I will move soon. In a few days. I will miss this place. Feneryolu. My first home in Turkey. The first person I met other than the Altun’s was Mehmet, our doorman. The protector of our property. He gave us a bed to sleep on. He set up our TV under his name. He helped us hook it up. He helped us fix our light in the kitchen. He takes out our trash every night. He is quiet but when he speaks the children scatter. He greets me with a nod of respect at the elevator door. I’ll miss this world he has created for me. Because of him I had something to observe. Years ago he opened a market across the street from my apartment window. I never really enjoyed watching the goings on there until my most recent return to this country. The regulars, the children, the local doormen, the workers in the area. All of them frequent this bakkal at predictable times of the day. I can almost set my clock by them. I know most of them by sight, some of them by voice. There is Yasar, the storekeeper with his low grunty voice. Umut, his son with the loudest bossiest voice. Ece, the girl who dances about in her immaculate wardrobe and hair, sometimes alone, sometimes accompanied. Her father who swaggers slowly down the street daily, a face for a Turkish postage stamp. Entirely intimidating until addressed. (No pun intended.) I really hope the place I move to has character like this place. It's a shame I'm too shy to take pictures of these people.