moving to istanbul: the saga in list-form
these days, I wake up in the morning and all I can think about is what things I need to order for the home from hepsiburada. it’s been a week since I moved into this place - my sun-filled, minimalist refuge atop a tiny hill, on the european side of the city - and I am impatient to settle, and at the same time, so exhausted and restless.
I will ennumerate all of the things that happened - in list form - to write about lyrically and poetically, another day.
all this happened in the last 30 days.
FINDING AN APARTMENT
I used the local apartment listings app, called Sahibinden. I checked new listings everyday.
I found a few postings of places and sent it to a friend.
my friend called and arranged viewings. an hour before the appointment, he cancelled. I asked another friend to reschedule for me and go with me.
we went. I didn’t like them.
we found another 8 listings. he set up viewings. we only looked at 4. that day was rainy and very cold. the second place was gigantic, sunny, and a YES - a yes without thinking.
my friend communicated with the real estate agent.
I negotiated the rental price. they said yes.
we went to the real estate agent office in Taksim, met my new landlords, and signed the lease.
I submitted payment for 1 year. it went to the wrong bank. I submitted again. it went through.
I got the keys and a copy of the lease.
in that moment - I felt like I could see my future Istanbul life clearly laid out in front of me - all of it - like a beautiful marble rolling across an old wooden floor - as if it all had already happened.
MOVING IN
I went to my empty apartment. it was dirty, empty, cold. it felt like antarctica. I put my yoga mat on the floor and it felt like a boat. I sat down.
a man came to install wifi. now I could work.
someone came to turn on the water - now I could flush the toilet.
I ordered things online and came everyday to wait for deliveries. I took the ferry from the asia side (where I was staying) - to the europe side (where my apartment was), 9 am to 6pm, as if going to work.
the bed & bedding arrived. now I could sleep.
the carpet & pillows arrived. I could lay down and do nothing.
someone came to turn on the gas & heat, but the boiler was old and “forbidden.” many phone calls happened.
so someone came to do install a new boiler and new piping through the walls - that took two days. I had wait for the jackhammer apocalypse to end.
the fridge & washing machine arrived - it did not fit through the door. I argued with the man. that was an ordeal. he was angry, I was angry. he left. that evening, we managed to fit it through, by shaving off a corner of a marble counter.
a cleaning lady came to clean the entire place. my landlord had given me this gift as an apology for the delay. now I could walk without shoes.
a man came to turn on the gas. he said another man had to come back and authorize the boiler. wtf. too many stranger men.
a man came back to turn on the gas. it worked.
now there was heat. and hot water. I could take a shower.
we tried to install the ocak - the stove - but it did not work. insert brain explosion emoji.
the light reflected off a building window in the morning. a shadow reflection of a reflection.
the light cast by the sun.
*
well, I can take a shower, I can work, I can sleep, I can lay down and do nothing - but I still cannot cook. I am still chained to this apartment, waiting for deliveries of things, still obsessively thinking about each item I want to buy (if I mostly use chopsticks, do i need forks?? are they truly necessary, or would spoons suffice?) because after traveling for two years, I am resistent to the accumulation of things.
each step of the above list was its own odeal, its own saga. my brain feels like it’s on the brink of explosion everyday - trying to organize all the things you need to LIVE in a place - and yet my body just wants to lay down on my white moon shaped rug, and take long naps in the sun, everyday.
after two years of living like a nomad around the world, this is normal, I think. the ordeal of settling, grounding, pausing - it is like a birthing and death process. full of organs and shedding and blood.
plastic packaging everywhere.
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go to istanbul