No longer have Turkish sim as it expired with, as J pointed out, too much In the way of unused GBs. True. It was almost never used. Other than the time when the Nice Lady from the Honorary Consulate called to say that she was pleased we were well (we were but hadn’t shared this information with her) and if there was anything else we wanted to know could we please email. One of those things, as I felt compelled to say, like fire insurance - of no value at all to you on all the occasions when your house doesn’t burn down. Other than peace of mind, of course. And we may end up with a short term one when we are booking our flights home. Many airlines can’t deal with the idea that you have no telephone, even though they never seem actually to call you.
All of which leads to our inability to phone for a taxi today. But J has asked the kind man at the corner shop about a recommended taxi and the kind man has offered to call on our behalf if we go round when we’re ready. So at 12 we go round, having arranged with Hassan, our new host, to meet at 1:00 at the new flat and thinking to order a cab for 12:30. And Murphy’s law goes into effect.
The kind man isn’t there; his daughter is minding the shop. She doesn’t speak English but does have a mobile with a translator - probably Google, which isn’t great but can manage short and simple. I have prepared, with a screen shot of our place easily recognisable by those living round the corner, and quickly add another screen shot showing 12:30. She gets it. And she’s a good sport. Serves several customers and discusses probable available taxis with one man before finding, on the second try, a cabbie who agrees to come to the shop. Will that work? Yes. Valiz? Yes.
So we arrange our worldly possessions - well, suitcases, carry-ons, and two small boxes (acquired yesterday from corner shop) now filled with food we’re taking from the fridge and freezer. J takes them to the steps while I go round and meet the driver. Hand him the address, which I have written on a piece of paper. And fortunately have also made a screenshot of the relevant section of the map, showing our new apartment building immediately next to the rear exits from the municipal market. All three of us study this and the shop owner’s daughter is quite quick on the uptake, pointing out the location of the nearby electric institute. Everyone happy. Well, mixed happy and sad. As the taxi pulls away the grandmother and one of the other women come into the street to wave. A bit teary.
The driver does take the wrong fork at the electric institute, but fortunately we have been here before and our destination is a tall enough building we can actually point to it in the next street so all is well. Unload and ask the fare. Have to ask him three times as I can’t believe I’m hearing him correctly. Twenty Turkish lira ($3.95 CAD, €2.55, £2.30). A taxi in the South would not have pulled away from the curb for that. No extra charge for the scenic route either, so give him 25 lira.
Our flat is on the sixth floor and the city view is impressive. Can even see ships in the harbour. The balcony also overlooks (sort of sideways) the municipal market and we couldn’t be closer. Pretty close to a supermarket too. Actually extremely close, although we do have to circle it to reach the entrance. We’ve been here before and it’s a genuine supermarket though not enormous. (Many grocery shops labelled supermarket are really no more than tiny very basic corner shops). It lacks the humanity of our previous grocery shop without providing significantly more choice - though obviously more quantity. And there is the indignation at
finding that 5 litre containers of water cost twice what they do at our old corner shop. (Fifteen litre ones are a much better deal but heavy as well as pretty awkward to pour from). Have to admit that the affront is considerably lessened by finding that a 70 cl bottle of Teachers, our whisky de maison at home, is the equivalent of $10 CAD.
Feels like we’re living in a different world here. The biggest blessing being the air conditioning. Seems pure luxury to look out over the city first by day, then at sunset, and then with the evening city lights from our air conditioned flat. Though to be fair there was air conditioning in the bedroom in our last home. The openness of the design let it dissipate a fair bit but sleeping or reading in the evening was comfortable. And sitting outside after dusk usually meant gentle breeze.
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