Too lazy to make this into a haiku

My place of employment
Changes every day
People want to come see me perform
And I don’t know what to say.

Real haikus here.

Home Sweet Home

Between the Genç’s, the Turkish family that is so good to me that sometimes I forget we’re not actually related, and my dear friend Nicola, I have been living luxuriously and rent-free in Bahçeşehir, a ritzy suburb of Istanbul, since arriving in Turkey in January. Bahçeşehir is about 45 minutes by bus from the city center, not including the 30 minutes spent waiting in the rain for the bus to arrive.
Both Nicola and the Genç family have said I am welcome to stay in their homes for as long as I like, but a) Nicola is British and too polite to kick me out, even though I know my clumsy stumbling about the house after returning from work at 2 am had begun to drive her mad and b) six weeks is more than long enough to stay anywhere you aren’t paying rent, even your mama’s house. Not to mention, the gypsy cabfare to get me home after work (there are no buses to Bahçeşehir after 9:20pm during the week or 10:30pm on Saturdays) was almost enough to rent a place of my own.
So I did! Today I rented an apartment in Beyoğlu! It’s tiny and I could fit the whole thing into the Genç’s kitchen twice, but it’s furnished, and it’s dead-smack in the city center!
It’s a garden–okay, basement–apartment, but it’s got windows in every room and a flower box outside with pansies. It’s got pretty low ceilings, too–you have to duck to get from the hall to the bedroom and the dining area to the living room, but once you’re in the room of your choice, you can stand up straight if you are below 5’7″ tall, and I’m only 5’4″. If someone tall, or on the taller side of average ever comes to visit me, they’ll just have to sit down immediately, which is fine, because I’ve got four little chairs and a sofa!
To quote my favorite children’s book of all time, Good Neighbors (the author’s name escapes me at the moment, but I know the line is right), “‘I love my house,’ said Mouse. ‘Home sweet home!'”

Pardon my. . . English

Delivering a few well-deserved English-language profanities to the boss’s girlfriend, storming off in high dudgeon, and refusing to return the following day has somehow improved my position at work. It seems I said a few things that others had been feeling but were too polite to say.

After the incident, although I had another job lined up, I wasn’t sure whether I wanted to commit to its daily troupe rehearsals and the accompanying marathon shows five nights week. While troupe work is fun, I’d rather enjoyed the relaxed atmosphere, solo performances, and star treatment at the first place. My morale was low and I began to fantasize about packing up my glitter and going home, but then Tuesday, the most bizarre thing happened.

The troupe leader and choreographer from the new job phoned to inform me that she’d received a request from the other place to please not “steal their dancers”, and had promised them she’d work with me only when I wasn’t scheduled to perform at my original spot.

So I’ve still got both jobs, and I’ve been assured that the irksome party will not be interfering with my shows.

Update: The boss’s girlfriend is still throwing her 53 kilos around, so I won’t be returning to Job #1.

Issız Adamlar

There’s got to be some middle ground between calling me 8 times a day (should I change my number?) and texting me once in a week to say something arrogant (“Don’t leave ‘The Gem’ alone on Valentine’s Day). Come on, Turkish fellas.

I guess the guy who read my fortune was right. I’m not going to end up with a Turkish guy. (Too lame.) Perhaps I should focus on my career. (Which is going great lately!)

It’s official. Is it official?

I think it’s official. I’ve performed at Felek Meyhanesi in Bakırkӧy on Saturday, Sunday, and Tuesday, and will be there again this Wednesday.
I think this makes me the House Dancer.
So official.
Further, I’ve decided avoiding flour and sugar in Turkey is futile, and have opted instead to go to the gym almost daily. They let me in free, anyway, so why not?
I love this life. Why would anyone live anywhere but Turkey?

Türk taksiciler

Dear Turkish Taxi Drivers,

Just because I’m in your cab does not mean that we are on a date. Please don’t offer to pick me up early for work next week or meet me for tea. Just take me home, please, and forget my address.

My dad is about your age and is rather good at playing backgammon. Perhaps you’d like to meet him for tea instead.

Respectfully,

Lara

Hopefully you didn’t blink. . .

I had my first Istanbul 2011 gig this morning, and it was a good one.  I performed at a Turkish Romany orchestral concert with singer Kobra Murat at a historical neighborhood beautification ceremony.  There were important people there, like the mayor, (not sure which one, or what his name was), and lots of television cameras, photographers, and reporters.  So many, in fact, that I was surprised that the news coverage of the story was so brief.  All that hoopla for a 90-second segment on Kanal Turk news?!  The concert was great, though.

This gig had absolutely nothing to do with the world’s largest Romany orchestra gathering that is to be recorded in the Guinness Book of World Records, as I originally thought it did, which actually happened last week.  The girl who booked me on the gig was confused, it seems.

At any rate, it was tons of fun, and if you weren’t watching Kanal Turk news between 7:10 and 7:12 tonight, and missed seeing me on the news, fear not!  There will also be a segment about it on the weekend entertainment news, Star Haber, this Sunday.

Yours famously,

Lara

Update from Istanbul

I’ve been in Turkey about three weeks now, and I’ve already put on four pounds. Perhaps I could attribute it to the unavailability of vegetarian food that is both protein and fiber-rich, coupled with the dramatic increase of white floury foods, plus the significant decrease in the amount of strenuous exercise, and the almost daily intake of a few glasses of red wine. On the other hand, it could just be something in the water.

Just in case, I’ll have to start (gasp!) cooking for myself, avoiding social drinking (I have so many thirsty friends), and going to the gym more often than once a week.

Further, I’ve been invited to perform with the world’s largest Romany orchestra tomorrow. This event will be televised, and if all goes as planned, will be entered into the Guinness Book of World Records. I should burn some calories from the stress alone.

Please don’t call me “chocolate”.

I know you mean it in the most endearing way possible, but please, Turkish guys, stop calling me “esmer çikolata”. It is so uncreative and I’m more of a golden brown, anyway.

On another note, looks like I’ll be extending my stay here in Istanbul for another 3 weeks or so!