A Slice from my Istanbul Life

The other wandering woman has sprained her ankle and made me remember my Istanbul experience of damaging self ... I went searching for the email I sent to the people back home in those blogless days and was surprised by the 'novel' I found: I'm sitting with my ankle propped up on a chair, using a pillow to slide round my apartment when I need anything ... How did it happen, well the story is long. It had become clear that it was time to move on from the school I am teaching in. Morale continues to plummet and many teachers have found new jobs for next year. I vacillated between soul and security, not sure of what I would find if I went looking for work. Word got out and Ur offered me work as a teacher/administer at his new school. I squeaked something like, 'But I'm only a first year teacher'. He said, 'Yes but do you think you can do it?' I asked for time to consider his offer and talked with friends. All advice went against it as there was no housing, no long summer holiday and the venture could fail. I thanked him and said no. The weekend was lovely. I spent Saturday night on a rooftop balcony over in Zeytinburnu drinking wine with friends, letting the sound of the call to prayer wash over me twice in the course of the evening, bemused that I was there at all. I woke late on Sunday and wandered in Istanbul with Jason and Beste. We went to Ortakoy, to the so-called Intellectual's Market for a while, buying baked potatoes and sitting at the edge of the Bosphorous eating them in the sun. Later that evening I was home alone and still smiling over my day when a woman fell past my balcony screaming. It was 11pm ... I had my balcony doors open, we'd just had our first really hot day. I had heard a man shout, a woman scream and imagining it was some Mediterranean-style argument, I wandered over to the doors in time to see her fall past in the darkness. I leaned over my balcony edge, hoping I hadn't seen what I thought I had seen but no ... there was the body of a woman lying in the garden directly below me. I was 5th floor and later I learned that she had fallen from the 9th floor. Obviously my Turkish isn't the most fluent and my nursing ability doesn't extend beyond stroking a forehead, applying a cold cloth, getting water for painkillers and offering wild theories about what might be wrong. It seemed best that I left her to the crowd gathering downstairs and at that point I thought she was dead. The police arrived and stood round with the crowd, and adding to the whole surreal moment, Fennerbace had won the evening football match and fans were driving around, unaware of the drama, tooting their horns, shouting and singing in celebration. She lay there for 20 minutes before the ambulance guys arrived and almost literally threw her onto a stretcher. Her arm was hanging off the edge as they ran back to the ambulance with her. (Note to self: Ozgur was telling the truth when she said it's best to stay conscious if in need of an ambulance. Some staff are a little rough and damage is rumoured to be a possibility while being 'rescued'.) I spent the next two days believing I'd witnessed her death and it haunted me. Finally Kagan came home with me one day after school and phoned up the doorman. Apparently she had 'only' broken her leg and her spine ... another wince as I recalled her being manhandled onto the stretcher. Life has gone on ... they've replaced the rosebush she broke when she landed. I think I'll file that one 'to be dealt with later'. Kagan had also come home on translation duty ... I had decided to apply to other private schools in Istanbul and he had local knowledge. He told me to apply to 'that one', I did and they phoned for an interview the next day. I had an appointment for the following Wednesday. Jason, Beste and I had gone bowling with one of Beste's work colleagues on Friday night and had come away with an invitation to a birthday party at the Ritz Carlton the following Tuesday night ... 'What to wear' .... an interview and the Ritz. Ahhh life in Istanbul. I had attended a teachers conference at Ozel Acarlar Koleji on the Saturday, another private school up in the hills overlooking the Bosphorous. All kinds of interesting lectures were given and I came away full of ideas I'd like to implement in my teaching and people stories that I'll never have time to write. Anyway ... the ankle. So yesterday I trotted off to the interview. Four people interviewed me and I was invited to write the European framework for the 3rd and 4th grade. I smiled weakly, overwhelmed by a desire to say 'I'm only a first year teacher' but swallowed and said 'Sure', thinking 'well I moved to Istanbul without being sure I could do that'. They offered me a contract to teach 6th and 7th grade, I signed it. So, I was leaving the school building, clearly having made a good impression, when I stepped wrong and did something so disgusting to my ankle that I'm not sure I can describe it. It seemed certain it was destroyed however being an anglo saxon and not liking a fuss, I managed to walk myself to a taxi. At that point I was almost sure I could get to Taksim and catch a Dolmus (or shared taxi van) home to Atakoy. Needing an update without looking, I ran my hand over my ankle ... it was the size of a prize-winning watermelon, or so it seemed at that point in time. My 'I don't want to go to hospital, I don't want to go to hospital' was replaced by 'Oh dear god, I have to go to hospital but I really really don't want surgery'. The taxi driver was an angel, as so many Turks are. He was older and gnarled in that beautiful old man kind of way. He saw I was shaking. I showed him my ankle and I said 'Atakoy lutfen'. He set out. Then I realised I knew nothing about hospitals over there and since I'd just spent the morning having coffee with Ozgur who lived nearby, I phoned her. I'm a little famous for not noticing my phone is almost out of money ... it ran out, the taxi driver immediately gave me his. He took directions from Ozgur and we picked her up (It wasn't really that simple but let's pretend it was). She spirited me off to her favourite hospital and the staff at Florence Nightingale took incredible care of me ... and charged me accordingly. Yes, my travel insurance was in a 'process of renewal' ... Time spent at the hospital is also another whole story and so, I eventually left after being told to stay off my ankle for two weeks or there would be trouble. So here I am, trying to locate crutches which is not as simple as you might imagine. I tried using the ankle yesterday, wondering if my superior Kiwi willpower might cooperate ... I was so wrong, so unbelievably wrong. Everyone is on task for the crutches, let's see what arrives. Meanwhile I am reduced to sliding round the apartment, foot raised, kitten attacking it at will and me saying, 'Ufffyar' (a nice Turkish replacement for the bad words I might say in moments of extreme frustration), and occasionally smiling because anyone watching the video of Di and her ankle would surely be on the floor in hysterics. My boss told me to take the day off which stunned me, she was the one who demanded I come in with a high fever after a night spent awake and coughing. Mmmm so now to find the right time to tell her I'm leaving. And to think up where I was when it happened ... I don't think confessing that I was at a job interview is the best move as there are still a couple months of teaching there to be done...