You'll have to forgive me, because I'm about to lay down the names of several Istanbul neighborhoods (in italics). There is a map, here, for those who would like to follow our adventure. The terminal locations are located about 5 km away from one another, close to the word Beşiktaş, in the center of your map.
We left the Rumeli Hisarüstü at about 4 in the afternoon, to see what we could see, Taksim and a bar with friends being the ultimate goal. Having listed some phone numbers, taken from a real estate website, we had a few places in mind when we started looking. Sahibinden.com is a good starting point, for those who are in the market. It translates to "from the owner", and we hoped using it would circumvent annoying real estate agent fees. I don't know how things are done in the states, because I never used a real estate agent there, but here in Istanbul, I pay someone to help me find a house.
I'll preface the peculiar afternoon with a quote from my room mate, although he didn't tell me this until the end of the day. "In Turkey, if you have no skills, you become a real estate agent."
Apartment hunting is a funny process, here, where people are so keen to sell you something you don't want, that they'll basically offer whatever crap they have and try to dress it up with words.
"Oh, don't worry, you can fit a bed in here."
"The last family just kept their refrigerator in the hallway."
"If you don't open this window, you don't have to worry about the trash falling in."
"If you want the windows to open, it won't be hard to chip off the paint."
'Lipstick on a pig', if I can use the hackneyed phrase.
The first place we wanted to see was in Mecidiyeköy, north of Şişli. After getting off the bus in the wrong place, we met the agent at a pleasant, neighborhood mosque, whence he led us on a ten minute walk to the apartment building. We never got a look at the place, however, because just as he put the key in the door, the owner of the market across the street shouted "it's sold." Without a word, the real estate agent went to talk to the man, and we slunk away, one failure in hand.
We hopped a taxi to Kurtuluş, near Osmanbey, with two other places specifically in mind.
There are three of us, grown men (-ish), looking for a place to room together. Despite that obvious fact, agents kept leading us into apartments with two, well-lit, comfortable bedrooms, and one small, dark room, which each of us would fight to not take. The first place was a bust, for that very reason, and so we called the agent for the last place on our list.
The agent led us into the belly of Kurtuluş, to a neighbohood that fits every American's image of a bombed-out Balkan city (Sarajevo, Belgrade, take your pick). After we climbed the stairs to the top floor, my meager excitement about the prospects were crushed...
The agent had the wrong key!
We trekked back down the stairs, and he offered to show us another place while he fetched the key. We must've walked for twenty minutes to his office, only to discover that the key was lost completely. No matter, he was able to show us another dirty two-and-a-half bedroom apartment, which left me feeling that real estate agents were inbred or retarded or both.
As it got dark, we wandered into one last agent's office. The office was big, double and triple the size of the others. There was an aquarium in the corner, carpets on the floor, big and comfy leather chairs, and two large desks. The office inspired confidence. The agent wasn't there, when we arrived, so we called the number on the door and he came in a few minutes. He ordered us tea, we chatted about what we do for work, we basically performed the ritual that begins all serious business in Turkey, and it led me to believe we would find something nice.
Before we started talking details, the agent told us he had the perfect place. One minute from the metro, top floor, 500 square feet, nice balcony, the place where three young bachelors want to live.
The only problem was a landlord, who was insistent that no single men would be living in the house.
So, strike three, and we are about to leave, when the agent suggested one last place, that was in the direction we were heading anyway. He dispatched a second agent, who had just shown up, to lead us, and we went together.
On our way, we passed the first agent's office, who politely inquired of our current leader, where we were heading. They spoke breifly, and in doing so established that we had already been shown the house we were about to visit, by the first agent.
We gave up, went to a restaurant in Şişli, and ate kebap and drank rakı and generally forgot about the crappiness of the afternoon. After that we headed to a gathering at a friend's home near Taksim. When we arrived, our hostess mentioned that two of the apartments in the building were available, and she even had the keys.
I had told my room mate, Emrah, that I would only really get interested in moving if we were moving to an interesting place. I wanted to be excited about the new apartment. In fact, the exact word I used were:
Emrah, I want to live in an apartment that gives me a hard-on every time I come home, that gives a girl a hard-on when she visits, that gives all of my friends hard-ons when we are sitting around the TV playing Mortal Kombat.This was that place, and I had a hard-on for it.
I'll post pictures when we get serious about moving there.
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