I work from home most of the time, thanks to the Internet and editors who trust me to get my work done without having to hover over me. A down side, though, to working at home is that I can go for a day or two without setting foot outside my apartment. Groceries are delivered to my doorstep, my son's service bus for summer school picks him up and drops him off right outside our building and fresh bread and fruit vendors meander their way up and down our street regularly. Last week, as I worked long hours to meet deadlines, I discovered I had to go to the bank early one morning to take care of some business. Feeling a little snippy at having to take the time to walk down the hill to the bank, I set out from home, not pleased at losing precious work time while I ran an errand. At the bottom of the hill, our local tailor smiled and greeted me warmly. Stopping to kiss cheeks, we caught each other up on our family news for a moment before I moved on. As I turned the corner, a former neighbor who I had not seen in a year or more waved me over. She and I also exchanged kisses and news of our families. Promising to see each other soon, we parted and continued on our separate ways to get the morning errands run.
The local barber waved a greeting, and the shoe repairman paused while opening his tiny shop to wish me a good day. I found my mood was definitely lifting as I returned greetings. Halfway to the bank, I saw our neighborhood photographer standing in the street, obviously looking worried. As he saw me approach, his face lit up and he excitedly greeted me and asked if I had a moment to help him with his computer. “I was hoping you would come by this morning because I need your help. I turned the computer on this morning and a message was flashing in English. I don't know what it says, and I don't know what to do,” he fretted. “I need the computer for my work!” Smiling, I nodded and entered his store and looked at the computer. There was, indeed, an error message in English. I did the best I could to figure out the problem and start his system but to no avail. “I'm so sorry,” I told him, “but you need a computer repairman. I think it is a minor problem, but I don't know how to fix it.” Thanking me profusely for spending time trying to help him, he said that he would call the repairman immediately. I wished him good luck with his computer problem and continued on my way.
Finally arriving at the bank, I took a number and waited just a few minutes until it was my turn. The teller asked me how my son was and if he was enjoying his summer holiday. I commented on her newly acquired tan and asked her about her recent vacation. The new teller at the desk next to her listened in, apparently surprised to have a foreign customer who was a regular at the small local branch office. My banking concluded, I wished both the tellers a good day and started homeward.
Passing the local kebab restaurant that was getting ready for the day's business, the owners waved to me as I passed, calling out greetings to me and my family. A few steps further, I stopped in at one of the local bakeries to purchase a fresh loaf of bread. “Good morning abla [older sister],” the baker said with a smile. “You're in luck. We just took the bread you like out of the oven. Here is one, hot and ready for your breakfast.” With a flourish, he handed over the freshly baked bread. We paused to exchange pleasantries before I left and began the trek up the hill to my apartment and my waiting work.
Outside the apartment door, I saw two of the neighbors who were heading down the hill to do their daily grocery shopping. As I settled down at my computer with a fresh cup of coffee and warm bread, I smiled, realizing that after a brief walk through my neighborhood, my attitude had done a complete turnaround. Even though I am a foreigner living here, I am an established member of my little corner of the city. There is a true feeling of community among us. Neighbors may sometimes annoy each other, or disagree, but we all are a part of this particular quarter of the city.
When friends from my homeland ask me why I choose to live in İstanbul, I tell them about my days here. Neighbors keep track of each other, which can be unwelcome at times, but when help is needed, they will be there to pitch in. Advice will be freely given, but I have learned over the years that it is meant to be helpful, not critical. It is the days when I am a little blue, stressed with work deadlines or feeling a little homesick that I take a walk through our narrow winding streets. It only takes a block or two before I am feeling better, smiling back at neighbors and asking after their families, as they ask about mine. In many ways, I am reminded of the rural neighborhood where I grew up and where everyone knew everyone else. We all looked after each other in times of need. It is comforting to know that that attitude can be found within a metropolis the size of İstanbul. It is also reassuring to know that I am a part of the community.
