Short Story- Somehow It Was All Beautiful

Today I walked out into the tiny village in which I live. The work day had only just begun for the shop keepers on the main street. It was all of ten A.M., for, you see, things move more slowly here in Turkiye than in many other parts of the world.

Living in Turkey has ben like living on a completely different planet. Live moves along at its own pace here. The shops open whenever they please, which is why, at the not-so-early hour of ten, I was witness to the opening rituals of my village.

Normally, the dust and disorder seem to grate against my nerves, turning me vehemently against this friendly and haphazardly cohesive culture. But today. For some reason, today was different. The sky was brighter. The air was cleaner. It was all really quite charming.

This tiny street in this tiny village has been puzzle pieced together for at least the past twenty years. The result being that the sidewalk is not a sidewalk in the strictest sense of the word. In reality, it is simply a pathway made of a myriad of paving materials including, what I am almost certain is kitchen tile. It is all in varying heights, widths, and states of disrepair.

This morning, as I set out on the important task of checking for new movies and procuring lunch from my favorite doner shop, I owned the street. There were no men out to call, "Abla, you need carpet/haircut/watch?" The shop keepers were occupied with hosing down their bit of the sidewalk or sweeping out their store fronts. The old men were sitting down to tea on the tables set on the side of the street. So relaxed, in fact, is the attitude of my street, for it has become MY street, that the men leave their shops, wide open, to go and sit down for their tea.

And it was today, as I walked around the parked cars so as to not disrupt this most inane yet sacred of rituals, that I saw the beauty inherent in the simple. Today, I saw the little old man who makes the doners. I saw  him ready his knives, saw his skill with the meat on the spit, saw how things are done here. This man is always assisted by a young boy whom I can only assume is a relative, as nepotism seems to be the rule here rather than the exception. This man - these people - take pride in their work and the simplicity of life. As well they should, because today it was beautiful.