Dental appointments this morning. Really the only place where we can say that going to the dentist is a pleasure, though admittedly this is down to the man himself and not the procedures. Amongst a bit of other work, we’ll be getting partial plates, J’s a replacement and mine new. And before that I need a panoramic x-ray. Fehmi describes the hospital location but this is not an on-the-grid city. I suggest that if I have the name I can call up a map and take a screen shot. Can see that each of us is appalled by the thought of having to use the other’s preferred methods of navigating. I understand his but can’t envisage it, so would memorise the directions - second right, left at the next roundabout, etc, hoping nothing was missing. He knows maps, but doesn’t really see a couple of enlargeable screen shots serving the purpose. J fortunately more versatile. However Fehmi announces that he has called his wife. She’s coming over to bring his lunch and will take us there. As she very kindly does.
And we’re lucky, because not only do we get there quickly but Filiz comes in with us, which is very handy because she’s fluently bilingual, having been born and grown up in London. The procedure is incredibly fast. Five minute wait. Provide basic info. Say we want panoramic x-ray with both film (for Fehmi) and cd (for us). X-ray done. Wait in lobby. Get film and cd. Pay cashier. No paper work - cashier can see what I have. Eighty-five Turkish lira. That’s $17.16 CAD, €11.26, £10.11. As with most of the world, tax, if any, is included.
Out for a meal for the first time since the lockdown. Fa Kebob around the corner, a place we’ve eaten in the past. There’s a prominent hand cleaner dispenser and the tables a bit farther apart. When we arrive people are seated outside, although by the time we leave a couple of tables inside are in use. Relaxed, though. Particularly in the case of eleven men enjoying themselves on the deck on the other side of the restaurant. No women, and they occasionally break into song. Their table is so close to the south wall of the city that a man moving his chair back from the table would probably hit the fourteenth century wall behind him.
Close to nine when we come home and still a warm breeze. And as we approach our place we’re met by the man across the road, with a small container of pastries, still warm. “My mother,” he smiles.
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