Part Two
August 9, 2024
While Mr. Joy was away on the evening of July 22, I trudged through the ~107°F (~42°C) heat with my ~80+ lbs (~40 kg) of luggage to an Airbnb I found, owned by a female Kurdish language teacher. I booked it for three days, knowing my friend Stacey would be arriving with her friends on the day of my checkout, and I could maybe share accommodations with them.
A beautiful woman named Şevin (pronounced like “Shavin”) Kaya greeted me from a window four floors up. She came down to help with my large suitcase, and insisted I drink water immediately. I must have looked beet red and ready to faint.
Şevin showed me around her flat. No A/C, no flush toilet. UGH! I had traded Mr. Joy’s conveniences to escape him. Squatting in extreme heat was a different kind of hell, but worth it.
What happened next though, was mind-blowing.
Şevin told me almost immediately that I “look like a Kurdish woman.” I took it as a compliment and hoped I’d made a new friend. She was curious about my stay in Diyarbakir, so I shared the details about my job and my boss’s weird expectations. She was shocked and offered to let me stay until I figured out my next move. She even mentioned some job opportunities.
Before bed, she told me she would be leaving. I assumed she must have a friend with A/C.
On July 24, Mr. Sevinç (a.k.a. Mr. Joy) made it clear in an email, he wasn’t open to re-discussing my employment. I considered it his loss more than mine. Sure, I’d have liked to have his money, but I’d rather have my pride (and dignity).
I explored Diyarbakir’s nightlife and went to Sakli Konak 1317, a wonderful restaurant with live music and dancing. The food was great, and the chef was welcoming.
For most of my stay at Şevin’s, I was alone, lying in front of a drooping fan that blew lukewarm air downward. I had to lie down to feel any benefit, which was minimal. Midway through, I got a second white fan from another room. The heat was unbearable even with both of them blowing but somehow I survived.
On the final day, I had to teach in the morning before check-out and was dripping sweat. I tried to adjust the fan head upward, heard a snap, and it stopped working. I felt terrible. So despite advice to the contrary, I left a note and 200 TL (~$6), which is the highest bill in circulation in Turkey, for Ĺževin, hoping it could cover a repair or would be put towards a new fan.
We both left kind reviews. Şevin wrote: “Millie was quite respectful and kind. She followed the house rules. Thank you for her dedication.” The next day I was finally in air-conditioned accommodations with a flush toilet at the Sur Palace Butik Hotel, with Stacey and Miles. And, I was shocked when I started receiving notifications on my phone. She demanded I buy her a new fan for $43 (~1.5 x what one night cost at her place). She even took a picture of my lunch receipt, saying it was strange I thought it appropriate to leave 200 TL for the fan when I spent 300 TL on a café drink.
No, I’m sorry, dear, the only thing strange is being so desperate for money that you’re digging through the trash to examine the personal expenditures of one of your AirBnB guestsand then using that to justify trying to get more money from me.
Actually, the 300 TL (~$9) was for my pasta lunch, my only real meal I had that day. I spent hours in that café, but that wasn’t her business.
I’ve been using AirBnB for nine years and during those nine years I’ve broken glasses here and there, and once I even broke a coffee pot. Another time I accidentally removed paint from the wall of an old home in Brasov when trying to remove a banner I was using for online teaching. In all cases, I left some small amount of money (~$5-$15) and never once was any host upset nor did they demand more. I assume because the $5 – $15 was enough to cover the damage, and maybe in this case 200 TL wasn’t enough to fix the problem, but the fact is that… her fan wasn’t working right to begin with, and she hadn’t warned against adjusting it, and then she invaded my privacy, nullifying any argument she might have otherwise had.
Naturally AirBnB denied her demand, and I couldn’t help but wonder if being called “a Kurdish woman” by one was a compliment after all…
