A Place to Rest My Head

When I arrived in Istanbul from Sarajevo the evening before my Turkish course was starting - very happy to have found a nice flat to rent after the previous two deals I had found fell through - I called a French friend of mine, who lives here, and who was meant to give me the key to my place. "A little problem arose," she explained to me in Turkish as I called from the payphone at the airport. "Why don't you just come over and I'll explain it to you," she continued.

The hitch was that the last renter had been living with a bathroom whose ceiling had developed a constant leak, which appeared to be coming somewhere from the plumbing in the flat above. Over a period of about four months, it had accrued a lovely layer of black mold (I'm hoping this isn't a terribly dangerous kind - anyone?). The ceiling was also flaking off in largish-sized chunks. Whether the renter had tried to do something about the mess and had left early out of exasperation, or had simply been negligent, I still do not understand to this day.

In the meantime, my friend, Noemi, told me that she had found a temporary solution; in other words, she had found me another place to stay. Two friends of hers were going on vacation, and would give me the keys to their place: It was a couple; Muslum, a Kurdish-Turkish guy who runs a bilingual printing press around here and his French wife, Clemence, who is writing her doctoral dissertation on the Kurdish language (which they speak together at home).

I ended up staying at their place even once they returned, waiting in vain for the landlord's cousin (who stood in for the landlord who is out of the country) to begin to resolve the moldy bathroom problem. They were very hospitable, and I ended up eating many a Turkish breakfast (consisting of bread, cucumber, tomato, "kaymak" (which I can only describe as a cross between whipped butter and plain cream), honey, watermelon and Turkish tea) with them. I must have stayed with them for upwards of a week, but I finally felt compelled to leave, although Muslum would act surprised when I said I needed to find somewhere else to stay. Anyway, my bed consisted of a small pillow-like mattress in their living room, and I didn't want to overstay my welcome any more than I had, despite what they said.

So I moved in to the moldy-bathroom place, which, despite its unfortunate state, is actually a really nice apartment. I waited either for good news from the landlord's cousin or other leads for places, but pretty much found neither. In the meantime, I became a vagrant showerer, showering alternately at various friends' places, since I did all I could to avoid my bathroom at all times, trying to use the bathrooms of my local haunts as much as possible.

The good part of the deal is that my friend's friend, from whom I was meant to sublet the place, told the landlord she would not pay rent until the problem was resolved, which has meant, in turn, that I am not paying rent either, and have thus far only had to cover the cost of utilities.

So, I finally adjusted to the situation, after many a tireless afternoon spent after classes, climbing Istanbul's various hills under a scalding sun, looking for a lead. I now have a great bathing system which I've set up in my kitchen, consisting of a plastic tub which would provide ample room to bathe a baby in, I'm sure, and a hot water kettle and plastic bucket. It works well enough for the time being. Of course, it's the world outside here that interests me most anyway. More about that soon.