So you know how you had that one science teacher that, like, EVERYONE in the school knew kept vodka in the chemical cabinet? (Ma, have we ever discussed this? Literally EVERYONE knew there was vodka in the chemical cabinet, but thinking back no one ever saw it. Were we just a bunch of rabid little Erdoğans reinventing reality willy-nilly, or did that happen?) Turkey has its own open secret: most teachers here are illegal workers. True fact.
Few schools are willing to pay the employment tax on top of what a foreign teacher expects to make, and few teachers are willing to accept what the Turkish teachers make to buy into the system. So, every month, we get huge envelopes stuffed with cash.
Say you suddenly live alone, and you’ve got an apartment that’s theoretically accessible through the second floor back balcony, though, as Hannah keeps pointing out, doing so would require more organization and effort to make it worthwhile for a Mediterranean culture-bred thief. Sayyou’ve also been unwilling to put yourself through the tortuous system of opening a bank account here. What do you do?
If you’re Paul, you keep your money in the cereal box.
If you’re Z, you keep your money on top of the water tank in the bathroom.
If you’re Agent L, you divide it into piles and hide it in various places all over the apartment, places you think a thief might not look, and leave little bits of cash in places you think thieves would look, (underwear drawers, inside books, etc.)
This is not a recipe for disaster at all, by the way, and will NOT send you into a panic where for a whole afternoon you tear through the apartment looking for an envelope with 800 lira in it, because you distinctly remember folding it into the third from the bottom tea towel in the linen chest, but forgot to remember moving it two days later into the empty tampon box behind the full tampon box in the medicine chest.
Not at all.