Yesterday, I finally decided to get rid of carrying cash and open a bank account. After obtaining a tax number, which took a few hours, and visiting 20–30 banks, I realized that the only bank willing to open an account for me was Ziraat Bank, our own “Agriculture Bank.” But even then, only one branch was lenient enough to allow an account for Iranian citizens without a residence card. I had the required passport and stamped tax number, but I didn’t have a lease agreement in my name notarized at a “Noter” (similar to a notary or public registry), so I needed to take my lease to the Noter.

Initially, my landlord refused, fearing it could cause tax issues. After I explained that I wouldn’t get a residence permit with it and only needed it to open a bank account, he said he had to consult his lawyer to be sure.

Recently, I received my first salary in Turkish lira. While my landlord is consulting with his lawyer about registering the lease at the Noter, I’m using my friend’s bank account. All my money goes into his account, and whenever I need cash, he transfers the required amount to my mobile number via a "transfer-to-pocket" system, and I withdraw it from an ATM.

The local pillow shop is run by an elderly man. After learning I’m from Tabriz, he gave me a small discount and said that contrary to past leftist propaganda that made people wary of Iranians, over time they’ve realized Iranians and Turks are like brothers with nothing to fear. He also gave me a pillowcase with a small stitching error for free, after first asking if I was married.

Ramadan holidays are halfway through, and all my coworkers have gone back to their hometowns, leaving me alone. I was offered a chance to go back for a few days to refresh, but I declined, saying that if I go and return, I’ll experience the initial emotions of leaving and coming back all over again. Now that I’ve gotten used to my routine, I’m not interested. Besides, I’ll only return once for the work visa, so there’s no need to do it now.

These days, Istanbul feels very much like London, with almost daily heavy rain. The increasing volume of election campaign ads disrupts the enjoyment of the rain, but until voting day, there’s nothing I can do but endure it.

Finally, I invite you to listen for a few minutes to the sound of rain from my apartment balcony: