Three Times Lucky

Last week, a friend from Istanbul came for a visit. Since it has been so hot, and since there wasn't enough room upstairs for all of us to sleep comfortably, Nicky and I decided to sleep on the terrace. We piled cushions of woven and embroidery covered bags on the floor and threw sheets and blankets over them. It's pleasant to sleep under the stars with the wind blowing gently. As far as I know, the few bats didn't fly too closely, and I refused to think about insects that might creepy crawl there way over and around us while sleeping. The nights are a bit chilly, but at about 8:00, the sun beats down unbearably hot.

One morning, I woke up with the sun burning a small hole in my face. I stumbled into the kitchen to make my coffee. Because the transition between sleeping and waking is a long one for me, it took me a while to find the Italian coffee pot and fill it with water and coffee grounds, then locate a lighter for the stove and a something for heating the milk. While the water was slowly making its way through the coffee into the upper part of the pot, Nicky came in holding my pillow away from her body and laughing. On the pillow case was a great gob of bird poo, slowly and viscously sliding its way downwards. Since, as I mentioned, the transition between sleeping and waking is a slow one, I failed to see the humor in the situation.

As I was trying to verbalize that the poo was headed toward the floor, the lid of the coffee pot blew upwards and coffee exploded all over the wall, the stove, and one side of my person, including my face. Fortunately, the coffee wasn't hot, but the noise and spray was, needless to say, startling. I still wasn't able to put a sentence together. Pina, hearing the explosion, came out of her bedroom, concerned. After she realised I wasn't burned, she found the newly painted walls and my face very funny and had a good laugh. I, however, failed to see the humor in the situation. And the bird poo was still sliding floorwards.

After cleaning myself and the kitchen, (Nicky took care of the poo) I went to the store just down the hill. As usual, I asked if anyone needed anything. No one did, but Murat offered to go with me. Murat is 10 at most and a gorgeous kid. He's one of the few people I can tolerate while cooking because he carefully helps me, cutting tomatoes, mixing the salads. He's also extremely polite and asks if he can use my computer before grabbilng it and turning it on. I was pleased to have his company, even for the short trip to the store.

I offered to pay for the package of two milk puddings that he had chosen, but he paid for them himself. As we were returning the store, he handed me a plastic spoon and found a place in front of a blocked door to sit and eat. I had the impression that he wanted to share this treat as our little secret, and for that, it was delicious.

With a little distance, I realise now how lucky I was, three times, that day. First, my head was not on my pillow when a bird shat on it. Second, I am not disfigured from coffee, and third, Murat shared his pudding and a little private moment with me, in the shade, on a doorstep.