The Middle of Everywhere

Finding myself in between happy and sad, relaxed and stressed, confident and worried, and busy and calm, spending the day in the middle village of Ortaköy was a perfect choice and not just for the name. Even the weather was neither good nor bad with bouts of rain and sun, warmth and cool. At times sure of the rain, but unsure if my mood was a cloud or a bow, I did the best thing that I could. I surrounded myself with friends and beautiful scenery. For these in between days I feel alright floating, not deciding, not settling. Just be who you are, someone who loves me told me.

Safiye came to join. It was only when I was in her company that I realized how bored I had been sitting, relaxing, pondering, and not moving. We soon got up and went for a walk. The more I get to know this place (Ortaköy, the city of İstanbul), the more it is new to me. Sure, sparks of familiarity illuminate my mind for an instant like the realization of a pattern. I remember looking at that table of jewelery before. There was that same oldish woman and there was a peculiar cat walking upon that table first time as I recall. What was it about that cat? It was fluffy maybe, cute? old? Beautiful I think. And the old woman was telling us some story. I try to replace the old memories with a new one as I pass by.

I saw three women taking pictures of each other at a scenic point and like a reflex offered to take one of all three of them. Then they offered to take ours, snapping the one below.Safiye and I returned to Destan to rejoin Kuthan and some friends to watch the Manisa-Galatasaray match. At halftime we left again to drink some beer at a bar that is kind of becoming 'our bar'. I think I would like to have a place with everyone. It can be a particular place to eat, or a place with a view. Then I will always think of them when I return to that place alone. I realize that I already have places with many people, though we may not have acknowledged it yet.
Though the weather had gotten better, I wondered why my mood seemed to sink like a bucket into a well. Not all the way to bottom, rather it hung somewhere in the middle, suspended. Like everything in my life today. Then I realized that I had been staring out the window at the awning below. Something about it struck me. Then it I connected it: the color. The rope slipped and the bucket plunged. The dim dark green like that of fake spruce trees matched that of the lamppost in Beşiktaş and the nearby Starbucks sign and the color of the jacket worn by someone who moments later punched me to see if I was really there. Remembering the punch seemed to stop my runaway thought train. Looking back at it, was it really the color? Was that all? I glanced out the window again. It was like a switch. A flood of previously-forgotten memories washed in and out of my mind. They were specific moments from earlier visits: a glance, a glass of beer, an afternoon at the pool, a barrel of joy, a bottle of stress, sickness, helpful, helpless. Snap out of it the voice in my head screamed to itself. The rope winding quickly, the bucket rising back above the surface but holding water. I faked a yawn and wiped my eyes. It was the damn color.

Gripin played over the speakers. Durma Yağmur Durma. Safiye and I spoke only Turkish for a short while. At first it was difficult but then it felt so nice. Sometimes when I started to lose my balance, she would catch on to what I was trying to say and then finish the sentence for me and then continue which was nice because the conversation moved but still I learned from it.

We returned for the last time to Destan where Safiye left, and I talked with Kuthan, Furkan, and Sayra about many intellectual things such as politics, philosophy, and emigration. It really got me thinking about my place in Turkey and what I will do with my time here. Everything seems to come back to that. In the US I never questioned my role in the country, I just lived it because it was all I knew. But here I feel a greater responsibility, like I have to find/earn my place here.

Eventually, inevitably, the conversation lost its intellectual flavor and became an exchange of stories about various encounters with girls/women. I preferred hearing the others' stories to sharing my own. There will be other times for that. Anyway, it was a fun topic and the time just disappeared.