Well now. Spring is very much here in İstanbul. This past week the temperatures reached the upper 60s, and the middle of the days were actually quite hot. Little tufts of yellow and white have begun to manifest themselves on the bare tree branches, and vibrant patches of color have sprung up amongst the roadside grasses and park fringes (although the good workers of the İstanbul greater municipality might have some responsibility for the latter). The colors of the sea and sky and earth are shining brighter and bolder, and people seem to be happier.
But Spring isn't all sunshine and flowers and baby animals, as we all know. Of course, this Saturday we have to lose an hour from our clocks, which goes down poorly with everyone. And because of the warm weather, there are more tourists roaming about in my home patch of Sultanahmet. Which also means more, larger crowds and, inevitably, more hasslers. Of course I have become used to living and a tourist area and the hanucu have come to know me and know not to bother me anymore, but the spring seems to have brought a fresh crop of hasslers to the weathered cobblestones of the historical district. It's like the full-time guys called all their cousins: ''Hey brother no work, huh? Come to Sultanahmet with me and pester the yabancılar with me, it's easy and you get to work outside!''
Naturally the increase in pedestrian traffic makes it difficult to go anywhere - especially lately because of the strange sudden increase in the amount of Spanish and Italian travelers who are, to me, notorious for always being in the way, and also irritatingly very loud. Walking becomes not only an exercise for your legs and feet, but also a workout for your lower back because you have to keep twisting and turning to dodge oncoming pedestrian traffic and make room for other people. I think the crowded sidewalks are exascerbated by the fact that, unlike American sidewalks, the sidewalks in İstanbul (and Europe for that matter) are quite narrow, and if there isn't a car parked on the sidewalk that directs your stroll into the street, there is some guy selling an eclectic vareity of junk laid out on a blanket (make room for the pocket tissues, please).
Well, at any rate, all this business with the tourists and the hassling and lovely weather has made me realize that soon I need to pack my things and find a quieter neighborhood to live in, and one preferably closer to work - the hour commute each way has become wearisome. Plus, I think living out of the way would really improve my language skills, because it would force me not to use English as much - nothing like jumping off into the deep end for a real taste of the local culture.
Perhaps my new neighborhood streets and sidewalks will be paved, unlike Cankurtaran. This would most certainly be a welcome change for me. Belgian Block, as we say back home, or, cobblestones, are quite nice; despite small bits of garbage getting caught between them, they have a romantic aura about them and stir the imagination as to the history they've seen. An American tourist I was walking behind recently put it succinctly: ''But cobblestones have so much more character....''
True enough, but they sure are hard on the feet.
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