Turkish Muse

How to Get a Parcel from the Turkish Post Office

I think that if Franz Kafka ever had to pick up a box from the Istanbul Customs office, he would have had enough fodder for another novel. I think he absolutely could have penned a terrifying and disorienting novel called The Post, in the same vein as The Castle or The Trial.

Because having to pick up a package at the Istanbul Posta Müdürlüğü is no easy feat. I've had to do it a few times since moving to Turkey, most recently a couple of weeks ago to pick up a Christmas box from my mother-in-law that had been languishing at the Customs office for three weeks with nary a note from the post office saying that it had arrived.

I don't know why the Customs office refuses to send notes saying that a package has arrived and you must come and pay a tax on it. The only way that you can track a package is by getting a Customs number from the person who mailed the package to you and then plug it into this website (in Turkish) to see where it is in the Turkish system. After that, though, you then have to actually call the post office -- 0212 565 1400 -- and ask what reference number they gave your package so that you can go pick it up.

Don't be surprised if, when you call, the phone is either busy for hours on end, or it rings for ages without anyone picking it up, or you are immediately routed to a phone maze in which pressing zero multiple times does not connect you to an operator but instead disconnects the line. Keep trying. Eventually, even if it takes several dozen attempts, someone will answer the phone with a very angry "Alo?!".

The reason I had to physically pick up my mother-in-law's box from the post office was because the declared Customs value of the items in the box exceeded 100 euros, the limit in Turkey for Customs-free boxes. 

And because the box was valued at $204, which was well over the $130 limit, I had to pay a Customs tax on it.

This is why you are supposed to either 1) Lie about the value of the box on the Customs Declaration Form; or 2) Separate the items in the box into several, smaller boxes so that the value of each box is listed as under 100 euros. (I highly recommend option 2, though I know many, many people who employ option 1.)

If you've ever had to go to the post office and pick up a box at Customs, you know there's something very Kafkaesque about it.

Upon arriving, push your way past the gaggle of people languishing in front of the entrance and go to Window 1. Show the employee the slip of paper on which you wrote the parcel number that you got earlier on the telephone. No words are necessary here, as the man will sort through his shoebox of tissue-thin paper to find the original Customs Declaration Form that they removed from your box.

Go to Window 8. You thought I was going to say 2, didn't you? Ha! I told you this was Kafkaesque. At Window 8, hand the Customs form to the gentleman behind the window. This employee will find the box for you and pass it along to his colleagues. Stand around idly while you wait for your name to be called. When it is, you will watch as another employee opens the box and inspects the contents. Then, a third employee will calculate the Customs tax you have to pay, which is based on the value that is written on the Customs form. I don't know the formula for this, but for my box, which was valued at $204, I had to pay 63 TL.

Now go back to Window 1. Hand the man there all the slips of paper you now have. He will stamp a few things and give you a few slips of paper back.

Take all of these to Window 2. Here is where you pay the Customs tax. Only cash is accepted and exact change is required. Annoying? Quite. Oh, and you can't find out in advance via telephone how much tax you have to pay. The only way to find out is to go to the Customs office yourself.

Now go to Window 9. Show the gentleman here all the slips of paper you have accumulated. Show him your passport. Pay him 2.05 TL. 1.50 TL is a clearance tax and 0.55 TL is a stamp tax, though if you ask him why you have to pay this money after you've already paid Customs, he simply stares at you. Best not to ask.

Go back to Window 8 and give the employee there all your little slips of paper. Within a few minutes, he will emerge with your package and voila! You are done!

How to get to the Istanbul Posta Müdürlüğü (Davutpaşa Caddesi No. 99, Cevizlibağ, next to the Ülker Fabrikası): You can take a bus (most likely the 92T) from Taksim but since I'm a full-time working girl I don't have loads of time to waste during workhours on public transport so I take a taxi from Taksim Square (22 TL one-way, about 15-20 minutes) and a taxi on my return. Don't bother having the taxi driver wait for you while you get your box; there will be plenty of other taxis you can hop into on your way back.

How To Plan a Trip Within Turkey

It's easy enough to find information about traveling to Istanbul or Cappadocia but what about to Urfa, Batman or Mardin?

It can be a bit more complicated to plan a trip outside major cities and tourist areas, but that doesn't mean it's impossible. Knowing a few tips and tricks can help you plan a trip in Turkey. We're going to Mardin next weekend for Newroz, so I'm going to use that city as an example as to how I go about planning a trip here in Turkey.

Buy plane tickets directly from an airline's website.

Unlike when buying international tickets, it's always best to buy a domestic flight ticket directly from the airline. There's no use in using Kayak or Momondo here; their rates won't be any cheaper. And you will always get a cheaper ticket from an airline's website than if you go to their offices in Taksim or Sultanahmet.

There are five airlines I check -- Turkish Airlines, Atlas Jet, Pegasus, Sun Express and Onur Air -- but I only fly regularly with the first two and only occasionally with the third. I know for a fact that THY flies to Mardin, so I go there first. Tickets to Mardin are cheap -- 29 TL for each leg of the trip (with a stop-over in Ankara) -- adding up to a total of 326 TL for two people. (I have since learned that Pegasus flies direct from Izmir to Mardin, but I didn't know that until after I purchased my THY tickets).

Call, don't email, hotels.

For hotel recommendations, I turn to my trusty Lonely Planet Turkey guidebook, in this case, the 11th edition, published in April 2009. About 75% of the time, I choose my hotel accommodation according to the Lonely Planet guidebook. If the city is small, like Mardin, it's more likely that I'll make a hotel choice based on my guidebook; if the city is larger, I'm more likely to ask friends for hotel recommendations.

In Mardin's case, it looks like the Erdoba Hotel is my best bet. Mardin's not known for inexpensive hostels (the way that, say, Selcuk is) so if I'm going to pay like a king I figure I might as well sleep like one too. I know from experience that sending an email through a hotel's website often gets me absolutely nowhere in Turkey, so I pick up the phone and call. Here's where speaking a little bit of Turkish comes in handy; most hotel receptionists outside of large cities don't speak English and if they do, they'll quote you prices in dollars or euros. I ask about the price of a double room for March 19-22. The nightly rate is 150 TL, I'm told.

I balk at the price and on a whim decide to ask my friend, a travel agent, if she can get me a better rate. In the meantime, I also call up the Artuklu Hotel and they tell me a room will be 140 TL. I decide to hold out on Erdoba.

A week passes and it turns out my friend can't get me a better rate. By the time I call Erdoba back, the rate has gone up to 180 TL. Sigh. Time to turn to my second choice, the Artuklu Hotel. At this point, they're charging 160 TL a night. I bite my tongue and book a room for three nights. Next time, I tell myself, I'll do it early and I'll do it myself.

The internet is your friend.

My guidebook gives me a basic overview of Mardin (population, exact location, a general description) and offers up a brief history. The book also offers a list of sights -- the famous bazaar, Ulu Cami, the Mardin Museum, Sultan Isa Medresesi, Forty Martyrs Church and the Kasimiye Medresesi, to name a few.

I then turn to the more updated Lonely Planet web page about Mardin. Can you tell that I have a thing for Lonely Planet? The info online is sometimes different than what is presented in the book, so I usually look here for updates. In the case of Mardin, though, Lonely Planet's website doesn't offer anything different than what's in my guidebook; in fact, it had a lot less information (which makes sense because they want you to buy the guidebook, not use their free website for everything).

While I'm on the Lonely Planet website, I jump over to its Thorn Tree travel forum, a place where travelers can post questions and answers about their trips and experiences. I do a search for Mardin and see what pops up. Most of the questions have to do with accommodation, which apparently is on everyone's mind because Mardin doesn't offer much in the way of budget lodging. The forum doesn't help me much.

Every now and again I'll check out Tom Brosnahan's Turkey Travel Planner. At the bottom of the page, I plug "Mardin" into the search box and away we go. I learn on this site that the Saffron Monastery, a holy place in existence since 495 AD and now an orphanage run by monks, is the city's number-one attraction. I definitely add this to my to-do list. Sometimes I also visit All About Turkey to see if there's anything there I haven't seen elsewhere.

Social media is also your friend.

After that I post a message to Twitter and Facebook saying that I'm heading off to Mardin. No, it's not to boast -- well, maybe a little -- but to ask if anybody has recommendations or tips regarding hotels (you never know), restaurants, museums and the like in Mardin. That's how I find out that Cercis Murat Konagi is not to be missed. Another friend sends me the link to this Syrian wine house in Midyat, so we're totally going to check that out.

At this point, I figure, I'm as prepared as I can be. I know how I'm getting there, where I'm sleeping and what I'm going to do. The rest will come easily and naturally while I'm there.

Provided that nobody makes ME jump over a flaming fire, it's going to be a great trip!

What about you? How do you go about planning for a trip in Turkey? Do you have any secret tips and tricks? Do share please!

*Note: Not one of the websites mentioned above -- including Lonely Planet, THY, or the Erdoba or Artuklu hotels -- know who I am or care about this website. I wasn't paid to write about them and they wouldn't care if I keeled over tomorrow. Just an FYI.

10 Ways to Cope with Expat Life in Turkey

2010 dawned all new and bright and shiny a few weeks ago, and I am the first to admit that I'm getting a late start in getting my resolution off the ground. I mean, isn't this about when people give up their resolutions, not start them?

Oh well. It's not like I haven't been doing other things. Oh right. TV doesn't count.

My relationship with Turkey has started to get a bit more evolved, a bit more complicated, shall we say.

I've been here two and a half years and if I've only learned one thing is that an expat's response to life in a foreign country is completely fluid. One day you're thrilled about it, the next day you're ready to pack your bags and go anywhere else.

Expat life starts out well enough with the honeymoon stage and all that and then things start to get a bit murkier. All those differences you found so enchanting and even quaint in the beginning quickly become thorns in your side, the kind that make you throw your hands in the air and wonder why you came here in the first place.

From there, it's a slippery slope downhill to where you start fantasizing about life somewhere else, maybe even back in your home country, where of course life is simpler, easier, paperwork and bureaucracy a pure pleasure to deal with.

Don't kid yourself. It's the same everywhere, whether that's the UK, France, Hong Kong or Timbuktu. And yes, that includes Turkey.

But there are ways you can cope with it all, things that make it easier to deal with the daily struggles and everyday strife of being a foreigner in a strange land. And I'm not talking about big, life-altering changes, but little things that you can right now, today, to make your expat life just a little easier, things that I'm going to try to do more of when a bad day hits me.

Get on a bus and go. Remember what it's like to be a tourist in Turkey. Even if you're not so lucky as to live in Istanbul, there's bound to be stuff you haven't seen in your own city. Whip out your Lonely Planet and find a museum you haven't been to yet. Or, if you're more adventurous, head over to the bus terminal and get on a bus. Any bus. Just pick one going to a neighborhood you've never heard of before and explore. At the very least, you'll find a lovely cafe to have tea and sweets.

As my grandma would say, get outta town. No, really. Turkey is your oyster and with airfare so CHEAP in this country, there is no excuse not to get out. Why not Diyarbakir for a long weekend, or Antalya for some sea and sun? I'll never understand expats who spend all their time in Istanbul and never get out of the city. You may not stay in Turkey forever, so while you're here make sure to see it!

Go to a bakery and get one of everything. Where else can you eat chocolate pudding, eclairs, tiramisu, baklava and pistachio ice cream but in Turkey? (Okay, maybe lots of places, but we're looking on the bright side here!) Can't identify a particular item? Doesn't matter; just order it! Get a cup of tea and revel in the culinary delights that this country has to offer. Believe me, they're good.

Share your experiences. Start a blog, keep a diary, begin a scrapbook, take pictures. Sometimes the only way to put your life in perspective is to put it down on paper (or screen) and look at it. And I'm sure your friends and family back home would love to hear about your exciting life overseas!

Cook up some comfort food. Take a trip to your local pazar -- don't have one? the Carrefour will do -- and stock up on fresh produce and meats and cheese. Then go home and make something comforting like macaroni and cheese or ezogelin corbasi (which is, thank goodness, no longer the only thing I can cook) or chocolate chip cookies. Or try a twist on an old favorite by making Izmir kofte. Ask your mom for her enchilada recipe you love so much and get cracking!

Go out for a Western meal. I have such a hard time finding good food in restaurants here in Izmir. I could eat the most marvelous kofte until the cows come home, but do I want to? Hells no. Sometimes I want a slice of cheesecake or roasted turkey and for that, I turn to the city's five-star hotels like the Swiss Grand Efes Otel and the Crowne Plaza. It's okay to splurge once in a while.

Adjust your expectations. Not everything is going to work out the way you think it will or should. Filing paperwork at the emniyet will take longer than you expect, women WILL ram their carts into your ankles at the pazar and your internet connection will come and go as it pleases. But if you know that these things are a given, then why stress over them? It's not like you can do anything about it anyway.

Connect with fellow expats. Invite a few fellow expatriates over for the comfort food you're making, or go out to a meyhane and let loose. Sometimes it helps to commiserate with other people -- and in your own language -- and to know that you are not alone with whatever problem you're having in Turkey. Chances are, someone else has been through it all before and may even have some advice for you.

Adopt a pet. Come on, you didn't think I'd let this suggestion not make the list, did you? It's a proven fact that cats and dogs reduce stress levels and generally make people happier. I mean, how can coming home to a purring kitty NOT put a smile on your face? That said, if you're not planning on staying a while and wouldn't be willing to take an animal with you when you leave Turkey, you can always spend some time loving up the street kitties near your house, feeding them and taking care of them.

If all else fails, opt out for a long weekend. Who says you have to be fully engaged in Turkish life 24/7 anyway? There are times when you just need Katherine Hepburn and Cary Grant, and maybe a big pile of chocolate chip cookies, to set you straight again. Or maybe your weakness is opera music while making tomato sauce. It doesn't matter: stock up on groceries, lock the door, turn up the music and escape.

I think the main thing when you need a pick-me-up if to remind yourself of why you came to Turkey in the first place. What helps me do that are the things above -- good friends, baked goods, marketing at the pazar (a real delight for me) -- and, yes, sometimes locking the door and eating a pan of mac and cheese.

Sometimes it's the only thing to do.

How to Buy a Turkish Carpet: Lesson 1

I stink at poker. I'm really, really bad at lying. I squeal when I see something I like, wrinkle my nose at something that smells bad and immediately start proclaiming my love for anything that tastes good.

I just can't help it. My tendency is to be as honest as possible, to say it straight, get it out there, let the world know how I feel.

This has led to several hilarious incidents that Jeff and I still laugh over, like the one time several years ago when I was working as a ballroom dance teacher and my colleagues and I went into a Ben & Jerry's in Philly to have ice cream.

Before I tell you the story, let me say this: I notoriously confuse the flavors Chunky Monkey -- a most disgusting combination of banana ice cream and fudge chunks and walnuts -- and Chubby Hubby -- glorious fudge-covered peanut butter-filled pretzels in vanilla ice cream with fudge and peanut butter. It is -- if you don't count Turkey Hill's Tin Roof Sundae -- The Best Ice Cream on The Planet.

What does this have to do with Turkish carpets? you ask. I'm getting there!

Anyway. So we go into the store and I order Chunky Monkey because I get confused. Don't they sound the same to you? They sound the same to me. I seriously think the people at Ben & Jerry's need to rethink this.

So the teenage girl behind the counter gives me a small cup of Chunky Monkey -- which, have I pointed this out?, is the most disgusting thing ever -- and I start going to town on this ice cream.

And I'm putting the first spoonful in my mouth and I realize, hey, wait a minute. Where's the peanut butter? There's fudge in here but there are no pretzels.

Then, is that a walnut? What the f*&k? It's banana!

Immediately, I start going apeshit.

"OH MY GOD. What IS this? This is disgusting. No seriously, it's gross."

My colleagues turn to look at me in horror. Out of the corner of my eye, I see my friend's husband back away from me.

"No seriously, you guys, I don't know what this is but it's disgusting. Like really gross. Ewwww...I can't even believe it. Are you sure this is Chunky Monkey, because it really doesn't taste like it."

The girl behind the counter asks me what I was expecting and when I tell her she says, "Oh, you wanted the Chubby Hubby."

"YES, that's it. Of course, Chubby Hubby. Isn't that what I said? What is this anyway? It's gross."

As if she didn't already know that.

So you can see how I am. It's not just with bad stuff too. It's with good stuff. I walk into a pazar (market), find something I absolutely love and think MUST HAVE THIS ITEM and immediately start squealing in delight. And then of course the price of said item goes up about 500%.

Now do you see what this has to do with carpets?

This happened right before Halloween when a friend of mine and I spent all day visiting those fake jewelry shops (a bijuteri in Turkish, I think) for a boa for my 1920s flapper costume. Don't ask -- long story. Anyway, the 12th -- 12th!! -- store we went into had one and I simply could not help myself. I squealed, I giggled in delight, I think I may have jumped up and down. My friend (Hi, Cherie!) stood by in horror. When I asked how for the price, the sales woman, whom my friend said exchanged a knowing glance with her colleague just a second earlier, said, "26 TL."

26 lira for a stinkin' boa. Needless to say, I didn't buy it.

Anyway. All of this is to say that Jeff and I are back in Diyarbakir today to visit our lovely friend Umit and I have big plans to buy a carpet. Or rather I have plans to buy a big carpet.

And I must, simply MUST keep a straight face when bargaining with the salesman. The minute your facial expression conveys any kind of pleasure or interest in something, not only do you risk only being shown items similar to it, you also jack up the price.

You see how this is very hard for me. I can't help but look at a carpet and go "OOOOO, PRETTY!!"

Last January when Jeff and I were in Diyarbakir and bought a few smaller carpets, Jeff played the straight man to my "OH MY GOD I LOVE IT" persona. Of course, having our friend Umit there, who speaks both Turkish and Kurdish, also helped a little bit. Okay, it helped a lot, which is why we haven't bought a carpet all year and have been waiting to go back to Diyarbakir so that Umit could help us again.

During all our negotiations, this is the facial expression Jeff tried to play to counter balance me:

It basically says "Yeah, I'm drinking your tea and I'm even semi-interested, but since I'm the one with the wallet, don't listen to my wife. And she sure as hell ain't buying the most expensive carpet in here."

Shopping with Umit was a real learning experience for me. I can drink the tea, I can muhabbet sohbet (chit chat) with the best of them, but I really need help in the negotiating department (see: how I bought my Birkenstocks). I'm really hoping that this weekend I can pick up some good tips.

Or at the very least, come home with an awesome carpet worthy of going "OH MY GOD I LOVE IT."

How To: Get Food Delivered to Your Door

It was well over a year after I had arrived in Turkey that I finally discovered the glory that is Yemek Sepeti. I don't think it was until I started making expat friends that I heard about this website, this wonderful website that delivers food to your door. Well, the website doesn't, but you know what I mean.

Gone were the days when I had to actually call a restaurant and -- gasp! -- speak to a human being to order my lahmacun. Now I could go online, click the dishes that I wanted and yippeee! 30 minutes later somebody brought it straight to my door.

The best thing about Yemek Sepeti, I think, is that you don't enter any credit card information online. You simply pay the delivery guy with cash or a debt card or whatever when he shows up with your food.

You totally need this in your life.

The first thing you want to do is go to Yemek Sepeti's homepage. From here, choose your city.