Blackouts happen fairly frequently here, so when my internet disconnected at 9 AM on Thursday I didn't get too upset about it. After all, it was dayllight, and I was going to an 11 AM belly dance class anyway. The only hardship was foregoing my Turkish tea ( brewed in an electric cay makinesi), but I had a gas stove I could light with a match, so I boiled water and settled for a tea bag.
It's about a 15-20 minute walk to the gym where I take my dance class. I would never have intentionally joined a gym that far from me, but the branch I joined was just down the road from my apartment. It disappeared over the summer. So I make the best of it, go less often, and pick up freshly baked ekmek at the bakery on the way back. It's only 15 kurus (10 cents) more that the public bread, but it's much better.
Belly dance class doesn't happen. Classes are only held when enough members show up for them. Okay, so I get on the step machine for a few minutes and then take my time with some grocery shopping. When I get home the power's still off. Oh well, I've got places to go, things to do, etc. I decide to try to find my way to Lara, where I'm told there's a store that has printers compatible with my slightly out of date macbook.
I got on a bus bound for Lara and when we got there I ask the driver if he stopped near the store I wanted. He didn't. So I got out at a big shopping center and was lucky enough to find an electronic store that had the printer I wanted. And I found a bus back that dropped me off about 5 minutes from my home. The lights were still out when I got to my building, and there was no way I was going to get that big, heavy box up nine flights of stairs in the dark. So I sat on the stoop and considered my options. Just as it occurs to me I can leave the box with the kapici (super) the lights go on and I'm able to take the elevator. Woo hoo! Did I handle this blackout perfectly or what?
The "Laura" mall where I shopped in Lara.
Lara's "SheMall" whose name cracks me up.
Not so fast. There's no power in my apartment. I guess I was lucky it was on long enough for me to use the elevator. Okay, now what? Well, I've got a candle and my Kindle and ipod are charged. I scoff at you, blackout! You will not defeat me! The darkness made me sleepy and I went to bed early.
Part 2. DAYLIGHT
When I woke up the power was still off, and the charm of these quaint blackouts was fading fast. I wanted to check my e-mail, set up my printer, brew a pot of tea. Okay, at least there's sunlight. So I sit on the balcony and read some Turkish children's stories. Eventually I hear the elevator, and I wonder how it's working without electricity, so I ask my neighbor if his power is on. It is. Now I'm getting angry. I go downstairs to find Mustafa, the kapici in my building. He's not around, so I track down Cetin, the kapici for the other building. Cetin opens the circuit board and shows me the disconnect notice. At this point I lose my composure. How was I supposed to know my power had been shut off when the whole neighborhood had been blacked out? Cetin says I have to take this up with Mustafa.
I was so angry and frustrated I started to cry. I couldn't believe the chutzpah of shutting off my electricity during a blackout! They can't manage to supply the electricity I'm paying for, but if a payment is late they're suddenly extremely efficient. Then there's that doofus of a doorman who didn't have the sense to let me know he'd turned off my power, even though I obviously wouldn't have any way of knowing about it while the entire neighborhood was blacked out.
The last time they turned off my power I had paid my bill on time. I never used to keep receipts, but fortunately I've taken to keeping them here. I showed the receipt to Mustafa and he looked at it, looked at the disconnect notice, and looked at my receipt again. He obviously found this quite baffling. Eventually he shrugged and turned the power on.
This time it turns out the bill hadn't been paid. I'd spent half an hour two weeks earlier at the Bank arranging for automatic payments of all my utilities. Apparently there was some problem with my application, but the bank didn't let me know this until I called and asked what was going on. Unbelievable. They had my home and cell phone numbers, my e-mail and my snail mail address and yet couldn't be bothered to warn me that none of my bills (electricity, water, cable tv, phone, internet) had been paid! People always ask if I miss anything about New York and I can never think of anything. I realize now that I am in fact a bit nostalgic for the competence I'd taken for granted all those years.
Now it's Friday afternoon, and I've got to get to the PTT (Post Office) before it closes so I can pay this bill and bring the receipt to the kapici so he can turn on my power. Otherwise it will be two more days without power. So off I go, running and crying at the same time. The PTT lady wants to know why I was running. Really? Do I have to explain this to you? Can't you just take my money so I can get this over with? I pay her, get my receipt, and run home so I can catch one of the doormen before they go out for the evening. They're nowhere to be found, so I go to the market in my building and the guy there calls Cetin, who he says is on his way. After sitting on the front stoop for ten minutes I finally see Cetin strolling over, and I show him the receipt. He turns on the electricity. Exhale.
My building.
Okay, now I just have to shower and change and walk down the street to meet up with friends for the opening concert of the Antalya Piano Festival. It takes forever for the shower water to heat up (it's solar powered, not electric. Surely nobody's turned off the sun?) but I do get cleaned up and meet my friends. We decide to pick up tickets first and then get something to eat. Of course, the concert's sold out. It's just that kind of a day.
My companions on tonight's adventure are three Englishmen I met at the ex-pat gathering at Ayyas on Wednesday. Aziz is at the end of a three month stay here as an arts consultant (I decided from now on I'm going to be a consultant too, rather than having to explain that no, I'm not really working but no, I'm not really retired), James is here part-time, and Tony is in transit between his last five years in Cyprus and his new home in Alanya.
Okay, there's no concert, so we can have a nice dinner in Kaleici. Nice atmosphere, interesting conversation and good beer. It could turn out just fine. We're in the car headed downtown when Aziz gets the idea that we could stay in Konyaalti and see a movie at Migros (the mall). "At least we can do something cultural" he says, and proceeds to make a U-turn of questionable legality. How "Due Date" (Zach Galifianakis making Robert Downey Jr. miserable on a car trip across the country) qualifies as "cultural" is a mystery, but that's what we end up doing. After dinner at the food court, of course. Not exactly fine dining. And no alcohol. We're having some fun now!
The Migros mall in Konyaalti where I went to the movies.
Actually, though there were times I wanted to reach into the screen and ring Zach's neck, there were parts of the movie that were really funny. It was good to laugh, and my mood had lifted somewhat by the time I got home. Still, I couldn't fall asleep until I took two Tylenol with a shot of vodka.The next day I decided it was time to get my new printer set up, so I went down the street to the Kirtasiye (stationery store) to get some paper. I'd been to this place a few times before, buying supplies for the class I teach. I was greeted by the saleslady who opened her arms and said "gel, gel" (come) and gave me a big hug. She didn't understand my request at first, but then held my hand while she patiently listened to me explain what I wanted. (Turns out it would have been faster to ask for "computer paper" in English rather than using Turkish to say "I bought a printer for my computer and I need paper for it".)
On my way home the guy from the clothing store, who'd covered for the kitchen/bath salesman last week to sell me some shelves, called me over to tell me he'd made a mistake and overcharged me. The kitchen guy wasn't there to give me a refund at the moment, but I was busy looking at clothes anyway so I stuck around. A few minutes later the kitchen guy showed up and handed me twenty lira.
It was a beautiful, sunny day. I smiled as I walked home, thinking about the likelihood of a New York saleslady welcoming me with a hug, or a shopkeeper seeking out a customer he'd accidentally overcharged a week earlier. I picked an orange off a tree, inhaled the Jasmine that's still blooming at the end of November and reflected on how nice it is to live here.
