The Fortune-Telling Rabbit
Not just any rabbit, mind you, a White Rabbit with blue eyes brimming with wisdom. The wrinkled old keeper of the Rabbit told her my name, she looked me over and chose my fortune. It was on a piece of cream colored paper and outlined the very problems I had been experiencing of late. Same with Steve. The White Rabbit looked him over and then chose his fortune. What a beautiful experience. I have stopped being surprised at the signs, but is it not odd that I had just finished reading ‘Alice in Wonderland’ two days before?
Some say that fortune-telling is random and they only have a limited amount of fortunes to chose from. But isn’t that true of life in general? There are only so many ways any given situation can turn out so it makes sense there are only a limited number of fortunes. When seeing a fortune-teller, all they are telling you are the energies present in that very moment and some of the possible past and future influences. The fortune-teller embodies possibilities and potentials. You can’t shoot the messenger with disbelief because you don’t like the message.
Transsexual Turkey
So a transvestite prostitute lives in the apartment below us. Besides the occasional altercation between him/her and the downstairs neighbors, his bell is ringing all day long. This is how I figured out he is a prostitute. The numbers on the bell are not marked clearly and so people for the downstairs would ring ours on accident. I used to peek out my door like an old gramma and see if I knew who it was before buzzing them in, and it was always different men. Obviously, I never let them in.
Then I started to notice patterns with the music. The bell would ring, and five minutes later pounding techno music would begin downstairs, vibrating the core of our apartment. The techno would last for about 30-45 minutes, then Turkish love songs would commence for a few minutes. Silence, then the buzzer of someone leaving the outside door of the apartment building. This pattern at night did not pique my notice, until I realised that at 10 in the morning, or 2 in the afternoon, it was the same pattern. Doorbell, techno, love songs, Goodbye, lover. Steve thought maybe he has a boyfriend, and it is possible one of the guys is a steady. But still people ring our doorbell at odd hours of the day to go downstairs, and if they were steady wouldn’t they know by now which buzzer was his?
Apparently in Turkey, transvestites are feared as they usually carry razorblades and knives, and tend to get in fights with anyone who looks at them wrong. I don’t know if this is actually true or just a myth based on fear of difference. I was worried for a while that our building would be the site of a hate-crime. But the most that has happened is someone threw a rock at the glass door and cracked it. I imagine it was either someone who followed our neighbor home and disapproves, or it was one of our neighbors ‘visitors’ who left in a quarrel. Either way, I suppose it says that their fear of him will protect us from anything really bad happening in our edifice. Even the neighbors do not call the police when the music is pumping at 3 in the morning. He must really freak them out!
Relics and Signs
Steve and I were married on the 20th of April, which is the Prophet Mohammed’s birthday. We thought it was fitting seeing as we got married below the Alhambra and somehow we had a blessing brought with this date in particular. Plus, Steve chose the date ‘randomly’ and that in itself is a sign. Our move to Turkey seemed random at the time, but when we were walking around the Topkapi Palace Museum and we stumbled upon the room filled with Mohammed’s relics, I knew it was a sign that both Steve and I are just where we need to be and everything has been happening with some sort of cosmic plan in mind. We both looked at each other afterwards with these big eyes and shared a smile. Something is going on with the Creator and us and whatever it is, it feels wonderful.
The BakirCats
The Saga of the Stray Cats continues. Our house is haunted by the Ghost of Friskie, the kittie who disappeared a few weeks ago. I had the strangest image pop into my head a while ago and I am pretty sure that she was killed and cannibalised by another cat. Not one of ‘our’ cats (those being, Saucy, Duckie, Mr. Toad, Boo Radley, Clarence Wurley, Felix and Huskie) but another one out there on the streets. He either came into our territory and killed her, or it happened out there. Friskie was so runty and weak. Poor thing.
So, because her spirit haunts this apartment Tommy won’t stay here anymore! He was really how I figured out Friskie has attached herself to this place. One day, shortly after her disappearance he was incredibly freaked out by the apartment. His haunches to the ground and looking around just totally spooked. I smudged the whole house with sage and he felt a little better, but still when he comes here he is very nervous and will only stay if he can sit on mine or Steve’s lap. He doesn’t like the hallway or entrance. He won’t go near his old chair. Strange, huh? I’ve been waiting for an episode of The Ghost Whisperer when she will help an animal cross over. Poor Friskie is stuck here!
But in other cat news, Boo Radley and I had a wonderful evening bonding last night. He reminds me of Cubby, my most beloved dog/best friend/Spirit Guide, who died last year. She was also fluffy and all black. Boo’s eyes are green, Cubby’s were light brown, and Cubby had white paws, but they are so similar. Last night Boo and I had a chat and he has this high squeaky voice like a whine, and it makes me laugh. He came so close to me while eating even though I hardly know him and I almost could have pet him. He really wanted to hang out with me, after I went inside to the living room he walked along the balcony and sat just outside the window where I could see him and when I opened the door he started jabbering away again! A new friend!
Istanbul’s Little Spain
In most tourist sights, the foreign language that predominates is usually English and usually you hear it from blocks away because it is some ignorant loud-talking American. In Istanbul, it is Spanish, ignorant loud-talking Spanish. I never realised just how much Spanish tourists are like American ones. They assume everyone speaks their language, they are loud and obnoxious, and if you understand what they are saying (which I do perfectamente) they are complete morons. I saw lots of parallels between small-town American mentality and Spanish mentality during my two years in Andalucia, and it goes true for the tourists as well.
At the Palace, I started to get really irritated at the Spanish people, especially as they talked throughout the Relics and were trying to take pictures in spite of the ‘no photos’ signs posted everywhere and in case you didn’t get the point images of cameras with lines through them…After a while, I decided to think about them like I think about annoying American tourists. They are like little children in a new place and have no idea of the world outside their town, that there are other cultures and other ways of doing things, there is appropriate behaviour and manners of talking they have yet to figure out. I am tired of being angry at Spain. I’m tired of being angry in general and I didn’t want our visit to the Palace or my spiritual enjoyment of the Relics to be damaged by the Spanish.
Oddly enough, the next day on TV my favorite Spanish film was on! Los Amantes del Circulo Polar, by Julio Medem. While watching the movie again, I was reminded of everything that drew me to Spain years ago. The beauty of the language, the poetry of their cinema. Even though my experience had a lot of really negative aspects, Spain gave me so much beauty. It was there I came into my bruja self, I began to make art in earnest, I developed a new skill in Spanish, AND I found my One True Love there. Isn’t it funny how such a small synchronicity like a movie on TV can be so precipitous to our healing?
The Postal Service
I find mail to be a little miracle. Especially since the other day I was in a backroom of the Bakirkoy Post Office to pick up a package and the place was a disaster. When they handed me my envelope I was filled with amazement that the sheets of paper bound in such flimsy wrapping ever made it from Sri Lanka to Istanbul.
Yesterday, I went to mail some packages and get out of my domestically blissful cave. It was absolute chaos, people budging in line, confusion about whether to take a number or not on everyone’s part. I wanted to get caught up in the huffing and puffing sighs of impatience, but then I thought to myself, “What else do you have to do today?” Nothing, so I began looking around and enjoying the experience. I noticed a girl whose number was 826 while mine was 825, and she seemed to really be in a rush. I offered to give her my number and trade so she could go before me and her face broke out into this huge smile. She said (in Turkish) no it’s okay, I only have to wait one number. But it was lovely how such a small gesture totally relaxed her and she stopped fidgeting and looking at her watch.
When it was my turn, things got insane. I was to fill out papers and the lady kept asking me questions which I could not intuit for the life of me. The girl I offered to help came over and in her broken English helped me to fill out the forms and do what I needed. It is true what they say that one small kindness begets another. I think if I hadn’t offered her my number, she probably would have been even more irritated at my cluelessness. Instead, we helped each other and we left the Post Office with a wonderful feelings of connectedness and kindness. Which turned into the good energy that found the perfect Christmas present for Steve! Kindness begets kindness. The Pay it Forward principle is becoming one of my Natural Laws.
Turkish Delights
While Turkey has good and bad aspects, like anywhere, thus far the Delights far outweigh everything else and I can see us being happy here for a bit longer than the year we had planned. We are here for a reason and each day a little piece of the puzzle falls into place, making the image clearer and the joy of being here and being here together all the more evident.
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