green days

it is march...but the temperature suggests it is kind of "january - part 2".
the sky is amazingly bright and the wind blows fast and sharp.
when i drop by our house around this time of the (late) afternoon i love the noises the wind makes around the old building where we are staying.
bangs...hisses... and whimpers...it feels like there is some ghost knocking at our door.

and when somebody uses the elevator (that, like most lifts here in turkey, does not have a door...so when you come up you just see the floors sliding before your eyes) you can feel a series of sudden jolts and clanks...like an old tin train breaking down.
and right under your feet, picture that!

we have a "family" of pigeons that have nested on our balcony - something that i initially found filthy and appaling (to say the least) - ...yet i have done nothing to send them away.
turkish people say everything is meant to be.
and, perhaps out of tireness - on this matter i seem to comply with the rather inshallah-inspired way of thinking of the locals.
it somehow seems like a good idea, after all.

had a class last night that was meant to start at 7 pm but could not - as, inexplicably, as we entered we found a man armed with a blowtorch and a huge mask (and sparks and smoke and an earpiercing noise) working on the air conditioning unit.
but with such whim and violence that he looked like a murderer.
i love these situations - especially because my turkish students never look surprised - not even slightly surprised. whereas i cannot avoid making aghast faces / worrying / fearing this is all some kind of candid camera exercise and i sort of want it to...end.
"10 minutes. 5 minutes. 10 minutes. maaaaybe" my students reassured me and made a beeline for the dreary coffee machine we have in the lobby.
i loove their MAAAAAYBEEEEEE's.

and, indeed...MAAAAAYBEEEE i...
...i kind of looked at the blowtorch a bit too long, i think.
"i might use that for the bloody pigeons" i thought for a second or two, staring blankly (and through the sparks) at a nasty tattoo the man had on one of his bushy forearms.
vote for pigeon-cide!!
maaaaaaybeeeeee.
or maybe not.
as EVERYTHING is meant to be.
yes...everything is...

even if it too often comes in the shape of green, splattered bird poo.