A home of one’s own, Turkish-style, II
Güncelleme Tarihi:
by Rose Deniz
Oluşturulma Tarihi: Mayıs 16, 2009 00:00
Three years after moving to Turkey, my husband and I went from renting a three-bedroom, one living room, and two-balcony apartment to owning an identical one two blocks from where we used to live.
Those three years were handy for keeping notes on what not to do: all-over wallpaper, wall-to-wall-carpeting, PVC bathroom furniture, and particleboard cabinets in the kitchen, among other things. Conveniently, because the apartment we bought was basically an empty shell, we set to work on renovating from top to bottom. In less than six weeks, we put in flooring, replaced plumbing, installed a kitchen, had cabinets made for the bedrooms and retiled the entryway and balcony.
Planning gone awry
I felt a certain amount elation when it became official that we were apartment owners. Okay, to be honest, I had never been so excited in my entire life, except maybe when I got married and later gave birth to two amazing children. I pored over magazines, scoured the Internet for exact paint colors and decided on flooring from online swatches. All those years of hoarding interior design magazines and books were justified now, having lugged them from the U.S. to Turkey with no reason except that I couldn’t bear to part with them. I left some gorgeous heirloom dishes from my grandmother in care of my sister, but couldn’t part with magazines? Sometimes I, too, question my priorities. I clipped photos, ran around with a folder full of paint chips and eagerly sent breathy emails to friends asking their opinion about paint colors with names like "Mum Işığı" (Candlelight) and "Güz Gülü" (Autumn Rose). It was an exhilarating and emotional time. I had given birth to a baby girl just months earlier and we were ready to build our nest.
But for every high, there is a low, as I was soon to discover. All the planning in the world means nothing when in the span of days and weeks one has to pick and have installed all the hardware, tile, paint colors, trim, front door, flooring, bathroom fixtures, cabinetry, mirrors and lighting. We were on a deadline and had to move because we didn’t want to pay both rent and a mortgage. My folder full of pretty kitchen pictures and flooring with names like "Oak Sunset" and "Walnut Arbor" were useless in the face of time and availability. I shouldn’t have been surprised that in Turkey it was next to impossible to locate and have installed exactly what I wanted without paying astronomical prices. We were homeowners, which meant we were instantly cash poor.
The handymen
We found a painter after gently asking the first two to not come back because they didn’t prime or tape, and they had started painting in the wrong color. We pleaded with plumbers, tile layers and kitchen carpenters to stay late, work in the dark and to show up when they said they would. Day after day we heard the same thing, that they would be there at 8 o’clock in the morning, but we waited in vain. A flurry of cell phone calls later, and we find out another job took priority, but they would most certainly be done with our floor, kitchen, etc. by then end of the week.
My husband and I took turns around the clock hanging around in the apartment while the handymen worked. They eyed me suspiciously when I asked impertinent questions, like, "Why isn’t that tile straight? Why doesn’t this cabinet door close? Why are there huge holes in the wall?" My husband had more luck than me. He found that if he just started working himself, drilling somewhere, everyone started working, too, to help him. I think he enjoyed drilling the cement in our bathroom.
We moved into a kitchen that didn’t have a sink or a countertop, but we made it work. We couldn’t bathe in our bathroom until the plumbing was finished, but we survived that, too. Now, six months later, all the excitement and worry seem to have faded, and we’re comfortably living in an apartment we now call home. I’ve stashed my magazines for now, but I’d do it all over again, if only to relive that feeling that I’ve made my nest and have a little corner of the world to call home.
Rose Deniz is an artist, designer and writer living in Izmit, Turkey. www.rosedeniz.com www.rosedeniz.blogspot.com
Planning gone awry
I felt a certain amount elation when it became official that we were apartment owners. Okay, to be honest, I had never been so excited in my entire life, except maybe when I got married and later gave birth to two amazing children. I pored over magazines, scoured the Internet for exact paint colors and decided on flooring from online swatches. All those years of hoarding interior design magazines and books were justified now, having lugged them from the U.S. to Turkey with no reason except that I couldn’t bear to part with them. I left some gorgeous heirloom dishes from my grandmother in care of my sister, but couldn’t part with magazines? Sometimes I, too, question my priorities. I clipped photos, ran around with a folder full of paint chips and eagerly sent breathy emails to friends asking their opinion about paint colors with names like "Mum Işığı" (Candlelight) and "Güz Gülü" (Autumn Rose). It was an exhilarating and emotional time. I had given birth to a baby girl just months earlier and we were ready to build our nest.
But for every high, there is a low, as I was soon to discover. All the planning in the world means nothing when in the span of days and weeks one has to pick and have installed all the hardware, tile, paint colors, trim, front door, flooring, bathroom fixtures, cabinetry, mirrors and lighting. We were on a deadline and had to move because we didn’t want to pay both rent and a mortgage. My folder full of pretty kitchen pictures and flooring with names like "Oak Sunset" and "Walnut Arbor" were useless in the face of time and availability. I shouldn’t have been surprised that in Turkey it was next to impossible to locate and have installed exactly what I wanted without paying astronomical prices. We were homeowners, which meant we were instantly cash poor.
The handymen
We found a painter after gently asking the first two to not come back because they didn’t prime or tape, and they had started painting in the wrong color. We pleaded with plumbers, tile layers and kitchen carpenters to stay late, work in the dark and to show up when they said they would. Day after day we heard the same thing, that they would be there at 8 o’clock in the morning, but we waited in vain. A flurry of cell phone calls later, and we find out another job took priority, but they would most certainly be done with our floor, kitchen, etc. by then end of the week.
My husband and I took turns around the clock hanging around in the apartment while the handymen worked. They eyed me suspiciously when I asked impertinent questions, like, "Why isn’t that tile straight? Why doesn’t this cabinet door close? Why are there huge holes in the wall?" My husband had more luck than me. He found that if he just started working himself, drilling somewhere, everyone started working, too, to help him. I think he enjoyed drilling the cement in our bathroom.
We moved into a kitchen that didn’t have a sink or a countertop, but we made it work. We couldn’t bathe in our bathroom until the plumbing was finished, but we survived that, too. Now, six months later, all the excitement and worry seem to have faded, and we’re comfortably living in an apartment we now call home. I’ve stashed my magazines for now, but I’d do it all over again, if only to relive that feeling that I’ve made my nest and have a little corner of the world to call home.
Rose Deniz is an artist, designer and writer living in Izmit, Turkey. www.rosedeniz.com www.rosedeniz.blogspot.com