How to get a container of personal belongings from NY to Ist or...

..how to get an ikamet without even trying.

So, I finally decided to move to Turkey after visiting a few times, then spending a summer, 90 days, which is the maximum on a tourist visa. I had a whole house put into a container & sent.  Sounds simple, right?  Well, it was painless until I got a call to come down to the port one summer day.

My friend Kaz who lived up my street, and, btw, lived up the street from my Mother in Rye when he was married to an Irish girl, now in the process of divorce, said he would gladly accompany as translator.

We went from one office to another, getting stamped, boom, boom, boom, paying money, more stamping, boom, boom, boom!  Then we walked to another building, in the heat of an Istanbul summer afternoon, up a steep set of interior stairs to a tiny attic room with a be-speckled older gent peeking behind a desk so over-crowded & piled high with ledgers and paperwork.  Kas introduced us as I sat there politely, thinking about all my "stuff" that I had missed.  Especially the Onkyo stereo and  Klipsh speakers that were as tall as I was.

I was snapped out of my stupor when I heard Kaz say something emphatically, then with a question, then the little man repeated the word.  Kaz said thank you and I took his lead and got up to leave.  I asked where do were go now but he said nothing and shook his head.

He waited until we got out side and said, "You have to get married," with a dumb look of almost embarrassment on his sweet round face.

"What???"  "Yeah, and you have 28 days or the Turkish government will confiscate everything."

"What do you mean?"

Well, it turned out since I was the recipient, and not a Turk, I couldn't accept the shipment.  I could either send it all back on another ship to another port, change ships and return it to Ist in the name of a Turk or simply marry a Turk when then I would have residency status and can accept the container.  Welcome to Turkey.

I was dumb-founded.  The long ride back to Bebek was a blur.  The next thing I remember is sitting  under a tree at the Bebek Tea House overlooking the pleasant view of the Bosporus with ships that sped by, small fisherman's boats that looked like they would capsize and the constant noise of the BCH loudly hummed in my ears & head.  What was I going to do?  I couldn't spend another 10 grand usd moving this stuff around.  I couldn't say "f it". I had to marry someone--and quickly.  So...I called my trusty "assistant".  That's what he called himself.  "Fixer" is more like it or "Abi," but that's another story altogether.

He couldn't do it.  Fiancee of the day would have a fit.  No shit, but I tried.  We were/are very close.  Never hurts to ask.  meanwhile, he told me recently that he kicks himslef in the butt everyday because he didn't take the offer and the US passaport that would accompany the deed.

That night I was at my friends club.  He asked me what was up.  I told him.  "Do you know a nice Turkish boy that would marry me to get my stuff through?"  He didn't skip a beat..."Me."

Well, well, well.  The hottest guy in Istanbul, at the time & in my limited, new-found circle, would do it.  "Sure, I did it before with a French girl But we never got me the passaport."

So we did.  At the mayor's office in the middle of town, on a hot summer's day with this motley crue of rockers & older lovely Turkish gentlemen friends.  What a bunch.  Then the rocker bunch had high tea at Kempinski Ciragan, overlooked the Bosporus as the best hotel in town. So elegant, so pretty.  We shot vid & photos just in case we needed it.  The film, "Green Card" loomed in the back of my mind.  Then we had a "honeymoon" at the Queen Ada, lovely 5* boutique hotel in Bodrum.  We had a free stay because I gave them a nice write-up.

The cargo came late at night a few days later.   Horray! Then I went to Aksaray for an ikamet.  That, too, is another story as well.  So, my dear friends, this is the way of Turkey.  God Bless Turkey!