Welcome to the neighborhood

Would I be able to find a job? A place to live? Friends? A support system? Fortunately I had travelled to Turkey before and had a slight grasp of Turkish. My Turkish friends from my college in Michigan had done a good job of showing me around Turkey and convincing me to move to İstanbul for a year. I felt I had a slight support system in place, before I stepped on the plane with my two stuffed allotted suitcases.

When I arrived, I was assigned a flat with four other American students from the same certificate program. We all hoped to earn a teaching certificate in four weeks enabling us to teach English in Turkey. The flat was furnished with appliances and necessities, except for Internet and phone services. My roommates and I learned to explore the city on our own, with some hilarious and scary moments for each of us. We all worried about what to do when the four weeks was over. I was fortunate enough to meet an American on a dolmuş one day. She informed me that her private primary school was hiring, and she helped me submit my resume and land the job. The school was supposed to provide me with free lodging, but they hemmed and hawed until I was stuck. The same girl who helped me find the job offered to let me stay in her lodgings, since there were two empty bedrooms. Technically, she did not have to offer. Her kindness saved me from a year of worry, until I found my own place the next school year.

Over the years the kindness that other expats showed me my first year here made me want to reciprocate the favor to any other helpless American I come across. Sometimes this has resulted in a headache. My husband Can has gotten irritated with me over the years, claiming that I never learn. Some of the Americans I have reached a helping hand out to have turned out to be missionaries with secret agendas of converting Turks to Christianity. The most embarrassing was a man I met through a friend, who had told me he was looking for an English teaching job. I met him in a cafe, took his resume, and gave it to the headmaster at my school much like my former roommate had done for me once upon a time. I had a good relationship with this school, and they trusted that I was referring someone decent. He was hired, and seemed to work well in the high school. But then, I saw his Bible in with his teaching materials. Quietly, I notified my department head, who started to monitor his lessons and assignments. Everything was related to the Bible. We were horrified to learn that he was using his job as a teacher to try and present these kids with a message. He was sacked soon after, but I was humiliated to have referred him in the first place.

Living on the outskirts of İstanbul has its benefits. Having had the privilege of living in a variety of central districts for many years, I now know İstanbul better than my hometown. Living in my district makes driving a must; public transportation here is patchy and inefficient. I was surprised then, to notice an American family move into my site not too long ago. Not only did they not have a car, were newcomers to Turkey, but had young children. To make matters worse, they moved into an unfurnished apartment and had to start everything from scratch. Even for this seasoned expat, moving was a months-long headache without kids. How was this lady coping? I went down to introduce myself and offered politely to help her if she needed anything. Shouldn't they have found better, furnished, more central housing for a better price? I bit my tongue. Over the days, my doorbell started to ring frequently. In the US, it is considered rude to come over to someone's house, especially with children in tow, without a cursory phone call first. I tried to hide my irritation as I knew she must be lonely, but I work out of the home and needed to attend to my obligations. She also started to come over with laundry. I had offered to help her out with a few loads when I found out she was hand washing their clothes since the machine her husband had purchased was broken. Weeks have passed and they have yet to resolve the issue. She keeps saying that her husband's company will resolve it (as they should) but when is unknown. I don't mind doing a few loads, but as the number has increased, with no offer to even help me pay for laundry soap or our electric or water bills, my husband and I are getting irritated. I feel guilty for feeling annoyed and wonder if anyone felt the same towards me when I first came to Turkey.

Turkish hospitality is renowned, and I have been a good recipient of it. I have tried to extend the same values, but still maintain some of my American sense of limits. My next door neighbor -- a sweet lady with two children -- has stopped by a few times to ask when would be a good time to have tea, and for me to come over or for her to bring her kids over with her. We have a good relationship, without breaching etiquette.

This family could be just a group of misguided expats looking for adventure. However, I am losing patience. Turkey is not an impossible place to plop down and live. People are helpful, but you should have some knowledge of the place you plan to live in before deciding to move your children across the world. Doing some independent research is vital. It is not impossible to find and buy a washing machine or at least some laundry detergent for your neighbor if she is doing your laundry for you. Or, if expenses are a problem, move to a cheaper district with a nearby laundromat (camasirhane). When I first moved here I felt embarrassed at how much people helped me. I tried to show my appreciation by baking cakes, helping out with childcare, etc. as a way to reciprocate and hope that no one felt taken advantage of. Hopefully, as this family settles in better, we can have a more respectful relationship. I am in the wrong by not being honest with this woman about my feelings, something an American would be able to easily understand. As we learn more abut each other, things will get easier and we could possibly have a strong friendship grow in the coming months. My husband endured similar trials with Turkish newcomers to his California college town. His stories mirror mine, an obvious, worldwide, expat bane. Living abroad is not for everyone. It requires voyeurism, respect, patience, and determination. Hopefully this family will learn the ropes, and will develop positive relationships with other expats as well as Turks.

Elle Loftis is an expat writer and mom living in İstanbul. For questions or comments, please contact her at e.loftis@todayszaman.com.