Araz Gholami

Turkey’s elections took place today. The previous problem of noisy campaign ads was replaced by car horns and celebratory gunshots from the supporters of the winning candidate. I hope their shooting angles aren’t less than 90 degrees. In response, I spent the entire day stretched out in bed, from waking up to going to sleep, just to let them know who’s in charge.

I still haven’t managed to open a bank account and discovered that both for the bank and for obtaining a residence permit, I need a lease notarized at a Noter. This means I’ll have to move apartments in less than two weeks.

The closest tolerable options, considering monthly maintenance fees and utilities, cost twice as much as what I’m currently paying, and I have no interest in that.

Although these residences include amenities like a gym, cinema, game clubs, and a pool, these aren’t expenses I’ve planned for or included in my housing budget. The costs of buying furniture are another story.

Today, I also met my new neighbor, Kadir. He’s a 60-year-old man who divorced his wife and moved into this apartment. He asked me to teach him how to use the washing machine, and I found myself caught between the thoughts: “How early I started” and “How old I’ve gotten.”