Quick Update

I've been busy, and I have been trying to get this blog migrated over to ChickenTurkish.com, which hasn't happened yet because, well, there's a lot to learn. Anyhow, it's gotten in the way of my writing, but here is a quick story about my day.

I bought fresh fruits and vegetables from the manav, the produce grocer, on my street. I always go to these guys for whatever I need. The produce is always fresh and tasty... the tomatoes remind me of those that came from my grandfather's garden.

In any event, I bought an assortment of things, and then didn't have the cash to pay for it all. "Sonra vereceksen," (bring it by later), was all the man running the store said. This is something I love about this country, I come up three bucks short for anything, anywhere in the states, and I'm putting items back on the shelf.

Then, when I arrived at the house, two children (who may be twins) were playing on the stairs. They belong to our kapıcı, which means "doorman", but is really more the building manager. I hate the guy, he's a bit of a hack and he only comes around when he wants the money for his services which are poorly performed... wait, the kids.

So, the kids were playing işçilik and evcilik, worker and housekeeper. They're adorable, and I don't say that about very many children, having worked with them for too long. The boy was pretending to be a shoe seller, and his sister encouraged him to sell me a pair.

For three lira (a steal) I got a great pair of completely imaginary shoes, that I took for a jog up the stairs to my place.

All the way home I had been thinking about a bowl of cornflakes. I realized long ago that certain comforts really fucking matter... they mean the whole world to me, and this is mine. I obsess about the taste and texture of cornflakes.

One of my room mates observed to me a few days ago, that whenever American films convey a feeling of monotony, of the mundane and completely normal, they run a scene of a misanthropic male eating a bowl of cereal. I, on the other hand, get a raging hard-on for corn flakes.

In any event, when I got home, said room mate had already warmed up börek, which is a kind of savory Turkish pastry (this one had spinach in it). It's tasty, but I wasn't about to let it get in the way of my hearts true desire.

As Murphy would have it, on opening the fridge, I noticed that we were out of milk.

All in all, it was still an amazing 20 minutes of life in Istanbul.