A Hard Look at Myself

I’ve had to take a hard look at who I am the last couple of months.  Everywhere I go I see faces I don’t know. The lack of familiar is comforting to me.  I use to say, “I love being anonymous in Ann Arbor.”  Now I’m in Istanbul and I still enjoy that feeling.  It could be because I like the freedom of creating the me I’m getting to know again.

I’m nobody. What I say, how I act, where I go, what I do is who I am.  Not a past, not a reputation, not a “free” riding card.  I have to pay for each personal or professional interaction I have.  No one is going to say, “Well, you’ll have to forgive her….blah, blah.”  Or   “She’s under a lot of stress lately….blah, blah.”  Or  “She’s a singer at…..blah, blah.”

I went into a pharmacy this evening to refill an antihistamine for my allergies, and I was nobody.  I try to make as little eye contact as possible unless someone speaks to me when I am buying something. (I don’t think I learned this code on Truckey Street, but who knows?)  The pharmacist had the same product my daughter, Elizabeth bought me a few weeks ago .I brought the empty box to show instead of explain when I got there. But I asked for “iki” or “two” of the product.  They had one.  I have found in Istanbul if you go into an establishment to buy anything and they don't have it, they don’t want you to leave unless they’ve exhausted all the avenues to sell you something comparable or different.

This starts a dialog between two people who know little of each other’s language.  But, soon it becomes a discussion between anyone who is within ear-shot.  It’s open season on anyone who can help the foreigner get what she needs. Using hand motions, talking Turkish louder, using one or two English words in a Turkish sentence, these are to be expected. I think I love the attention being all on me.

This little old lady (about my mom’s age) said, “Do you know Chicago?”    She was sitting on a little wooden chair by the door. (with her little wool hat, gloves, and coat on)  She had poorly fitting false teeth and a sweet,  big smile.  I said,  “Yes, I know Chicago!”  I told her it is a very nice city.  She proceeded to tell me she was born in Chicago and came to Turkey when she was 5 years old.  She told me she forgot most of her English. (and she had a good point)

While this conversation is going on I can see the pharmacist up on a chair to check the shelf as high as it goes for this second box of medicine I requested.

All the shelves have these huge pieces of glass that slide to the side when the pharmacist needs a product inside on the shelves (which are also made of glass).  I don’t mean they slide gently.  They weren't  intended to slide smoothly, they just have the purpose to keep the things visible and clean on the shelves.  This man is pushing the glass to get inside and I picture him falling into this wall of glass with his white apron and shiny black shoes and it’s very distracting.

This whole store is about as big as a UPS truck.  When I asked the little old lady if I can get some Vaseline Intensive Care lotion out of the glass case next to my shoulder, she reaches over, slides the glass and says, “This price!” and shows me the 10 Turkish lira price on the back of the bottle. (with a knowing look on her face I would think better of  buying it as soon as she showed me) I tell her, “Yes”, nodding my head.  Instead of giving it to me she hands it to the clerk like she’s my assistant now.

I point to the chap-stick in the large glass case the cash register is on and instead of getting a chance  to tell him what I want,  he takes ALL the chap-stick out, one by one.  He tells me the kinds he has, "Cherry, berry, flavor,..."  I can't tell him, "Plain" because what would that mean to him?  So, I have to wait until he's done showing his stock of chap-stick. Then I point to Blistex and we're both happy.

After all of this, three people step into this tiny store to ask for things. It gives the woman an opening to ask, "Where you live?  What do you live in Turkey?......"  She tells me I'm beautiful.  Really, she tells me I'm beautiful as she touches my hand and bows a little to emphasize what she is saying.  She has no idea how sweet she is and I walk home smiling.

Tonight, after a long day, I got to see myself through an old Turkish woman's eyes.  I can take it or leave it.  But, I choose to take it.  I make myself  NOT look in the reflection of any of the store windows on my walk home.  I'm beautiful.  I feel beautiful.