Today is my one free day in Izmir. My goal: see museums (archeology and history/arts), the Agora, and as many independent boutiques as possible, where I will buy a dress for the wedding which will make me look cool and fit in with Zehra’s youthful friends, but not like I’m trying to look cool, or too young, and also that isn’t expensive and I can wear again.
And shoes.
I leave at 2.
In fairness, it’s a religious holiday today and according to general information, everything is closed until 2. Museums, as I soon discover, are closed period, which is disappointing but also makes my list less daunting. I walk down to the port to catch the "feribot”, giddy at the adventure that lies ahead. There are ticket dispensing machines that tell me I need a card to ride the feribot, but I do not have a card, and there are no humans around to help. A random woman is explaining something about the ticket machine to a couple, and I sway back and forth near her, too embarrassed to ask for help but anxious because the ferry is about to leave. Finally, I work up the courage. She helps me buy a single-use ticket, and adds,
“I think all ferries are free today, because holiday.”
I go to the gate and stand there looking lost for a while, until a man in a uniform indicates that I have now missed the boat I could have gotten onto for free.
If that’s not a metaphor for life, I don’t know what is.
I wait for the next ferry, standing in the sea breeze, watching the boats bob along the water. Six teenaged boys with exactly the same haircut leap around, peering at each other’s phones, shouting and smoking cigarettes. We climb aboard, and as always I head to the outer deck. I am joined by the teenaged boys, who are now screaming at their buddy Yigit who is on the ferry next to ours. I don’t want to be around them, but I also don’t want to miss standing on the outer deck of ferry in Izmir. So I stay, thinking how much I love being on boats, and trying to figure out how I can be on them more often, until I remember I’m on one right now.
By the time I arrive in Alcincak, it’s nearly 4.
Everything is still closed.
Even the chain stores. I find one boutique that’s open, but feel so guilty for the people working there, who glare at me, probably thinking, “You, heathen, are the reason I have to work today.” I’m too self-conscious to try anything on, and quickly leave.
“Bye,” one shop assistant hisses, as I’m on my way out.
I walk through the heat. Even corner stores are closed, so no water or snacks. Finally, like a mirage, my favourite brand in Turkiye appears ahead… and it’s open. I drift happily inside, revelling in the air conditioning. But every dress they have looks like something I’d wear if I were 4 years old and going to a tea party with my imaginary friend.
I give up, and head towards the Agora.
There’s almost no one in the streets. It’s strangely relaxing, aside from the simmering heat. I find a bakery that’s open and get a Coke Zero because it’s a special occasion, and tromp on, sweat pouring, until I spot the Agora, just sitting there next to a couple of meatball stands.
The sign at the front explains that it was built at the request of Marcus Aurelius, and founded by a guy who had a dream that the Double Nemesis (!?) appeared and ordered him to establish a city here and bring the people of Izmir out of the old city. The inhabitants of Izmir took this idea to the prophet at the temple of Apollo, who said that those who sit in this city will be 3 to 4 times happier than they were before.
Most of the area is roped off to the public, but the part that is open is—was—the basement. It’s so calming and cool, even some street dogs have taken refuge down here. I walk through the quiet, wondering what happened here back in its day. Probably, mostly, people having sex when they weren’t supposed to. I think about all the layers of history and mystery I’d been walking on top of for the last hour, thinking only about buying a non-frumpy dress. There are a few windows showing tunnels with water flowing through them. The signs explain that this water still, today, flows from “unknown sources”.
I mean, come on.
I make my way back to the ferry, passing through the almost-empty city bazaar, where a few fish mongers and vegetable sellers wait, hopefully. I go through Konak square, full of families and kids, roasted corn carts and balloons. As I sit and wait for the feribot to arrive, I take inventory. I have no dress. I’m not youthful and never will be again. There are so many things wrong in this world that I could focus on right now that I’d be here until another city gets built over this one.
But just for this moment? At least 3 times happier.
I’ll take what I can get.
🥰
Loved this, your writing is so witty & human & full of heart. Thank you so much 🥰