Jan. 18, 2001

When I first moved in to Roshan's apartment on the back streets of Tarlabasi, I was enthralled by the constant noise, the washing hung like tattered festival flags above the streets, the children screaming and chasing each other up and down the street which was always filled with trash in spite of the Gypsy and Kurdish women who seemed to be sweeping whenever they had a chance. The area had an exotic brilliance and life to it which seemed to call out (in a loud voice) from underneath. I thought maybe one day I would draw portraits of the children or paint the patchwork of roofs which stretched away underneath our windows. Of course, some of this feeling of exuberance might have been from Roshan's cosy sense of decor and the contented nights we spent lounging on the couch smoking a narghile pipe, eating baklava and listening to Yiddish or Yugoslavian folk songs. Occasionally,the noises of the day or night, would be pierced by the beat of a drum and the whining wail of a zurna. We'd race to the window closest to the sound to see if we could see the musicians and the people gathering and dancing. Usually it was a wedding. The brides always seemed somewhere in their teens. Energetic women would gyrate if it was a gypsy party. The Kurdish parties had more men dancing (sometimes only men) in a circle. Often there were bonfires, using the neverending piles of trash for fuel. At Nowruze, people leapt through them.

In the morning, we would hear the pogacacis and a man who always seemed to me to be yelling, "Anarchy". I had Roshan listen closely one morning. He informed me he wasn't trying to spread a political message but rather offer his services fluffing pillows. I had never heard of pillow fluffing being a profession before but apparently it is. There are also the hurdecis who collect people's old stuff to sell, the vegetable and trinket sellers, roof repairers and broom sellers. In the spring and summer, the women gathered on the streets washing and carding wool. Occasionally, a flock of shorn sheep would make an appearance. Yes, it was quite a change from Seattle and everywhere else I've lived. A few blocks up the street from us was the deadly street, Tarlabasi. Sometime in the late 20th century, Istiklal was made into a pedestrian/tram street. The traffic was redirected to Tarlabasi which became a raging mess of metal and wheels. A friend of ours says that he hears car accidents every night. My sister and Roshan have both been hit at one point or another on it. I have managed to avoid being hit only because I race across the street and expect the worse from the drivers. One acquaintance was a victim of a hit and run. He was discovered and somehow taken to the First Aid hospital where he stayed. When the hospital finally got around to operating on him, a couple weeks later, they realized that they hadn't noticed a bone had been lost in Tarlabasi traffic. The English man wisely decided it was time to go back to England.

Tarlabasi is also famous for its transexual brothels and thieves. Occasionally, in the middle of the night, we would here pounding footsteps racing down our hill from Tarlabasi while someone called "Stop THIEF!" The thieves conveniently disappeared into the maze of backstreets and open buildings. One night, before I moved in, Roshan came home late. The grocer warned him that two theives had run into the building. He advised him to ignore them and stay calm if he saw them in case they were armed. Roshan walked into the building and saw they had jumped out an open window onto the roof of the neighboring building. By the time I moved in, our building door remained locked.

We had experience with a different sort of thief. Every month the landlady would collect money for the water bill. Then, in August while she and her family were at their villa, the water was shut off. The tenants called up the water company and learned that the bill was 800,000,000 TL (about $1,200). In an informal survey I took, most people seemed to pay 2-4 million a month for water. I did the math and it meant that the landlady hadn't paid the bill for almost 2 years. Apparently this happens with managers and landlords here sometimes. She somehow bought time and two weeks later the water was turned on again. Then in November it was shut off again. The landlady had the pipes opened illegally and we had water pressure for the first time since I'd been living there. In fact, so much water pressure that the faucets dripped even when turned all the way off. In December, it was time to negotiate a new lease. The law says that it is only legal to raise the rents (if they are in Turkish Lira) 15%. Our landlady wanted to raise it 60%. She started screaming at Roshan. I came to the conclusion a long time ago that the landlady had psychiatric problems. We'd hear her screaming at her husband and her kids in this shrill screaching voice which sounded as if her vocal cords were attempting to tear themselves out of her throat. Incidentally, we bird sat their parakeet for a week. He was an interesting little thing who would say "Chi Chi Kush... Seni Chok Seviyorum... and Galatasaray SHAMPIYION!!!" (chi chi birdy, I love you very much, Galatasaray Champion!!!). He would also occasionally contort himself in this demented clucking meaningless squaking. I decided that he must be immitating the landlady's screaming. I was really surprised that Roshan had tollerated this landlady for so long. But, the rent was cheap and it is difficult for a student to afford housing in Istanbul. We had searched in August and November and only found over priced trash heaps with unimaginable problems. However, in January she demanded 15 million for water money (the bill by that time had reached $1,400... some of which was probably legal fees and fees for shutting off and turning on the water). When we refused on the grounds that she didn't pay it to the water company and that we shouldn't have to pay for illegal water, she had a screaming fit which continued even after we shut the door. We could hear her screaming at her family downstairs, "It doesn't matter if its illegal! They have water! I'm the landlady! How they get the water isn't important!"

In 2 days, we found a new apartment and moved in. She shut off our apartment's water anyway because she didn't realize we were moving but all this meant (since by that time most of our stuff was moved allready and we were staying at the new place) that it wasn't possible to flush the toilet or clean anything. Oh well....

Our new place is in Gümüsüyü, a quiet neighborhood on the side of the hill that slopes down to the Bosphorus from Taksim. We don't have a view but we have peace of mind, a bathtub, a normal toilet (as opposed to a Turkish one), a washing machine, gas oven and a landlord and landlady who are both very nice and professional about managing their apartments. The apartment was furnished so we didn't need to bring our furniture. On Roshan's last day of moving stuff, he gave everything to a couple of the African immigrants who have started moving into the Tarlabasi backstreet area in great numbers, adding their voices to the mix that rises up from those streets. He told me it made their day. "I chose these two guys who were in old clothes and very skinny and poor." He told me. "I asked if they wanted a couple tables. They asked how much. When I answered, 'free' they were delighted. I invited them up and they took everything I offered them and brought their friends to help move it. I didn't want to leave anything for Her." Apparently, She had tried to cut the lock of our apartment and take some stuff herself but failed. Another interesting note: While Roshan was moving stuff one afternoon, a lawyer and some police came looking for the landlady. She hid but they went in and repossessed her washing machine. Apparently she owed money to some other people besides the water company.

We are both relieved to be out of there. Yah, it makes entertaining stories. Yah, its the "local color" and "dive aesthetic" that us annoying expats thrive on as inspiration for the great novel that we all are going to write one day. But you know, it gets really tiring after a while.

A Housewarming/Chinese New Year Party at our new place.
Another party photo.