Sunday, October 3, 2010
Fall cool. While eating brunch with Del, we hear a bagpipe coming up the road. Delal runs upstairs to get some lira. I go out on the balcony and peek down through the laundry to see two chubby people my age marching down the middle of the road--a couple. The man wears a white shirt and a red sash. The woman a colorful kerchief and gypsy skirt. She plays a tambourine. Del fills a plastic bag full of coins and shouts down to them. They lift their instruments and laugh. We toss the money down (It nearly hits a car) and the shout up "Tesekkurler!" in accented Turkish. "Gyspies?" I ask. "Balkans'" Del says. "Probably Macedonian refugees." They continue down the street turning slow circles as they go, looking up at all the buildings with their laundry lines billowing with sheets and T-shirts and skirts, hoping for another coin fall from a window. A white cat looks disdainfully down at them from the building across from us (her picture is down a few blogs). They start to sing, the man the main melody, the woman the harmony.