Well, I’ve been back in Istanbul for a little more than a week, and I haven’t done much since being back (sorry, no pictures). I slept, cleaned my pigsty apartment (after I had kindly requested it be clean when I return), did some shopping, started a casual work schedule, nothing special. But dipping myself slowly back into the drink has given me enough time be reminded of what I like about here and what I really don’t care for.
Things I missed about Istanbul:
Public transportation. Especially the metro.
Lahmacun. From Andok. And the soup, too.
Strangely, Efes Extra.
Simit, of course.
Hoş Geldiniz. Sorry, Amore.
My student fan club.
The Friday Fındıkzade neighborhood bazaar.
Clementines, pomegranates, and the best olives in the world . From the Fındıkzade bazaar, of course.
Strangely, it was nice to see my barber:
“Oh, it’s long! You didn’t cut it in America, did you?”
“No, the last time I had it cut, you cut it.”“Yes, it was Sunday.” Okay....
My disgusting roommates.
Not tipping at restaurants. Love it.
Wet-naps and toothpicks, everywhere you go.
My apartment. And the bodega downstairs.
My coworkers, and the jovial teachers’ room at Şirinevler. And the distant view of the sea from the office.
Orkun and Deniz, kardeşlerim.
Have I mentioned the olives?
Kokoreç.
Bargain prices (for when you speak Turkish).
Açma sandviç from Simit Sarayı.
How I Met Your Mother nights.
The duvet cover we spent hours to find.
My work clothes. I look damn chic.
My little orange wind-up radio.
Being an anomaly.
“Abi”
Kürşad abim.
Speaking Turkish, of course.
...and the things I didn’t miss about Istanbul:
Public transportation. Especially the tram.
The bland food, save a few items, and lack of culinary variety.
The crowds. Oh, the crowds….
The pungent stenches –rancid tea breath, sewage, stale cigarette smoke, potent body odor, kebab flatulence, and gallons of cheap cologne.
The minimalized concept of personal space.
“Yaaaaaaaa…..”
My disgusting roommates.
That carbonic metropolitan grime that settles over everything.
The azan. Definitely did not fucking miss that.
How much can one say about Turkish hypocrisy? Or the unoriginality?
Taxi horns. Any car horn.
The littering.
Even though I haven’t had any, and don’t plan on it, Neskafe.
Tea. I mean Turkish tea.
Cheap white bread.
The incomprehensible inability to queue.
Fucking cigarettes.
Expensive booze.
Have I mentioned the food?
Istanbul sidewalks.
Other Americans. Except a few at Şirinevler.
Cleaning up after people and doing their laundry.
Being an anomaly.
The blind rhetoric denunciating pork.
Foreigner’s prices (for when you speak English, or when they see your blue eyes).
The endless mural of urinating men seen from the metro windows.
"Eskiciiiiiiiieeeeeeeeaaaaaa!" 450 times a day.
People’s deafness to “Excuse me, I’m getting off!!” (Can I go back to England now?).
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So, which has more?
