Crazy Day

I told myself I wouldn’t post on here unless I could do it from my laptop and do it right, but after the day I had there was no way I could resist. Since this is being written from my Turkish phone with no autocorrect, please forgive any typos and such.

I set out this morning with the intention of seeing if I couldn’t get my water turned on. Everyone says it can’t happen until I have my residence visa but they said the same about electric but my trio of persistance, charm, and feigned ignorance as I refuse any variants of “no” combined with a huge dose of Dad pulling some strings hurdled that. So off I went to accomplish the impossible. I also wanted to try out a new app (moovit) to get to the local ISKI. The app said to take one bus, transfer to a second, walk about a half mile, and there I am. I knew from experience that I could walk in 45 minutes the distance covered by those two buses in 15 so that is what I did. I was right. It was that last half mile I would have had to walk anyways that threw me for a loop. I start walking up this steep hill and when I get to the top, theres a fence with a big red warning. No entry, no photographs. I was looking right at a military zone. Moovit wanted me to walk right through.

It is possible the destination I needed really was on the other side. There probably was a way to go around to get there. I didn’t see how it could happen without walking way up(literally) and around. Besides, I was guessing my potential destination B was the better option anyways. I honestly was expecting someone there to tell me I was in the wrong place and point me onward anyways. So I loaded the next destination in, headed down the hill, and hopped on the bus.

There are moments that can be said to be nothing more than Divine serendipity. This was one of those. I had hopped on the 15f. Moovit had told me to get on the 15. When I realized I was headed off in the wrong direction I just shrugged and decided to see where this bus took me. I was in a groove writing for My Brothers Keeper and didn’t want to stop.

That bus took me to the Kadikoy port. There I decided that since I still hadn’t been to see the Hagia Sophia I might as well do it today.  So off I went.

I was there for about 5-10 minutes doing the touristy thing when Dad showed up and we had a bit of a conversation. He showed me some things that made the entire day, no, my entire move to Turkey, worth it.

About three hours later I was still inside the museum but at one of the tables outdoors trying to recover when a gentleman sat down next to me. Considering how many tourists were passing through I figured I might as well try my luck.

“Do you speak English?”

“A little.”

I recognized the Turkish accent but asked anyways, “Where you from?”

“The asian side. Are you from the States?”

We got talking and I find out he is a rug seller and tries to see all the sites a few times a year since many of their local customers are tourists. Plus it helps him keep up on his (very good) English. He saw my pen and notebook and asked if I was an artist. He was a bit disappointed when I told him no I write. He wanted to see some sketches but he still did write down both the blog addresses. Normally I only mention this blog but for some reason it just came out.

After a bit more conversation, he said he had an idea and asked if I had the time to meer someone. We left the Hagia Sophia, walked about 5-6 blocks, and he brought me into the back room of a carpet shop. This wasn’t just some corner market, there were about 4,000 rugs stored there. (I found out later) In what looked to be their break room I was introduced to another gentleman. We talked for a bit and then he gave me a 30-40 minute history of different types of Turkish rugs. To say I was fascinated would be an understatement. I’m sure two of the rugs he chose were handpicked since he already knew I was a Christian writer but the story he demonstrated those rugs told was amazing. About halfway through this, the first guy I met came in and they talked briefly. At the end I was pretty much given a job offer. They need someone to create and run a website that can market their rugs in America. I would have to create and maintain the web side, they would help on the knowledge end, procurement, etc. It sounds legit, it would all be under contract, and they already have a Hungarian doing a similar thing for them in Eastern Europe. I told them my big issue would be time and capital. He said fine. The offer was as new to him as it was to me. If I decide to do it I can drop in anytime and we can work it out.

So while I’m chewing over this, but even more what happened earlier, I find myself arriving home just as the landlord was leaving. He seems glad to see me (nicest guy) and through our limited ability to communicate I find out my second floor neighbors are moving out. Do I want to buy any of their furniture. We haggle what yes, what no, what price. For less than 400US I now have two wardrobes:


A dresser, two beds:


Three chairs:


Three Turkish rugs:


And a bookshelf that began its life as storage shelving for shoes:


So, whoever it was that saw my facebook comment about how little furniture I had and has been talking to Dad about it…

You rock. Thanks.


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