tapu tapu, with flowers

Persistance

Last Friday, the building acquisition saga came to a conclusion. We now have 10 shiny new deeds (tapular) in the name of Caravansarai. Here’s how it went down:

Tuesday: coordinate with the representative of the previous owners, our old lawyer, our new lawyer, Hasan and the woman at the deed office

Wednesday: bring two stacks of cash (they were out of 100s and 200s at the bank) to pay the deed transfer tax (at the government Ziraat Bankasi), the 2010 property tax (at the municipal office) and an original notarized translation of my passport (again at the notary of course)

Thursday: back at the deed office – sit in the hallway, take a walk up the stairs, read the health and safety signs on the wall, calculate how many millions of people must have gone up those stairs to ware down the marble that much, sit, rush into the office to ‘prove’ I understand Turkish (okudum, kabul ettim), get kicked out of the office, it was 4:29 and they closed in 1 minute.

Friday: return to the deed office, sit in the hallway, evesdrop on the people sitting next to me, wonder where that huge section of the stairway railing disappeared to and in which year, check the time – approaching 4:15, receive the summons into the director of the deed office.

There he was, behind the heavy mahogany desk, one pen, two stamps, the telephone and a large pad of paper. The assistant hands him the deeds and he slowly looks over them, periodically glancing up at Hasan (our lawyer) and myself. After his approval, stamp and signature on each page he hands them to me along with his congratulations.

I turn around to leave, and there it was. The most incredible wall adornment I’ve seen in my entire time in Turkey. Just underneath the protruding golden Ataturk head was a huge Turkish flag, made entirely out of red and white artificial roses. My jaw dropped and I couldn’t move. I was brought back to reality by Hasan, gently guiding me through the door and back out into the hallway, deeds in hand.

 

Passed!

We’ve had good and bad news. First the bad: We (or most likely, Julie–as Anika is currently in the US for the holidays) will be spending a lot more time and money at the Noter’s Office. Now for the good: We passed the military checks!!!!!!

You may remember that because Caravansarai is foreign-owned we had to undergo screening by first the Istanbul Governor’s Office and then the Turkish Military. And we passed, so now we are legally allowed to begin business on our new building!

First items on the agenda involve tearing the roof off to build a relaxing terrace with a view, redoing all the utilities and adding gas for heat, and scraping the disgusting, dripping goo off the windows that the kapaci so typically and hastily used to secure the window panes into their frames. Oh, and hanging out with the noter and municipality zoning office to finalize our plans. . .

Meanwhile, we have begun research for our Tea, Tavla, and Tall Tales (TTTT) project and will shortly be contacting artists who may be interested in participating.

 

Noters and their Translators

We have not been able to talk or think about Caravansarai without getting it stamped by a Notary. And these thoughts most likely would have to be translated into English from the Turkish by a completely unskilled translator. One such ‘translator’ (and close friend of Beyoglu Noter #9) mistranslated my passport. Which is probably the easiest document to translate and so elementary I could have translated it into Turkish after 2 days of beginning Turkish class. Here are a few of the things that have given us occasion to hang out in the Noter’s office:

Power of Attorney to the Lawyer: This makes sense. No complaints here except that it costs 150TL + 100TL to the translator. This process costs $3.00 in the U.S.
And we’ve had to do it twice. And then again after another mishap.

Capital and Trade Registry Documents: What exactly are we doing as a business? Well, we would like to say we manage an art space and artistic projects, but officially we are called Caravansarai Gayrimenkil Danışmanlık Reklam ve Organizasyon Konaklama Ticaret Limited Şirketi. Which means we are in real estate, information, advertising, organizing, and guest services. Whatever.

We had to verify this at the notary as well as who are our investors and how much capital do we have. This process requires some moderation between your lawyer and your accountant. Some of the time you need to be present for these signatures and to show your I.D. over and over again. At other times the lawyer (or in this case, lawyer’s colleague) just camped out there by herself.

Tax I.D. Number: This all costs about 100 TL, plus your accountant’s fee for taking care of it. Oh, and the translator. Ha ha.

The Big Day: The day when the actual owners of the building–the people who’s names appear on the deed–have to come to the notary. This is when you arrive in a taxi, with the two checks, issued fresh from your company bank account for the complete purchase price of the building.

But we needed the notary to verify that these two old men had doctor’s clearance to sell. On top of that, because of the Turkish military checks, we cannot really get the deed (tapu) in our name. There was no way that the owners would wait for their money until our clearance is granted, so we drafted a ‘promise to sell’ agreement and registered this at the notary, sending a copy to the deed office to file with the property deed. By then those two old guys were sick of us. And we were sick of the Noter.

Visitors to Turkey often want to see the seat of the Ottoman Empire. They go to Topkapi Palace, and eat in restaurants which specialize in Ottoman Cuisine. But if you really want a slice of Ye Olde Ottoman Life, spend a little time in the Notary’s office. Despite the overbearing photos of Ataturk suspended over every Notary’s desk, the system is 100% pre-Republic Ottoman Turkey, right down to signs designating different functions, which still retain the Ottoman Turkish names. The one concession to modernity being that now they are written in Latin instead of Arabic script. Oh, and you can’t smoke.

 

Buying a Building, after the fact Part III: We ask for help

We quickly figured out that the property-buying laws in Turkey clearly do not favor foreigners. Even if the foreigners have a Turkish company. Actually the process doesn’t favor Turks either. It is mostly an outdated system from the late Ottoman/Early Republican times. Even the language, the recordkeeping, and most importantly—the Notary, are designed with maximum hassle in mind. For instance, to deter groups of foreigners buying up too much land in a particular area, the government requires that the military review the foreigners in question in relation to the particular property. If they deem us somehow threatening to the hardware stores or banks in the neighborhood, they can refuse us the building.

To help us navigate our way around this maze, we realized we needed to hire a Turkish lawyer who speaks English and has experience with setting up companies and then helping these companies buy property. And while we are at it, we might as well get an accountant to keep track of our new tax status. The thing with accountants and lawyers is that you need to find them, pay them, and you need to be careful with them once you have them. Some have fragile egos, as we found out, but that is for later.

To find a lawyer we checked the list on the American Embassy Website, asked a few friends and checked the back of the ‘buying property in Turkey’ book. After reviewing the recommendations, Julie made appointments with 4 lawyers and 2 accountants. Our requirements were:
- price
- experience
- distance from home
- appearance of office
- ability to separate social from professional conversation (rare in Turkey, but a necessary cultural skill if dealing with Americans.)

In the end there were two clear candidates, we chose one from between the two based on how quickly they responded to a question emailed to both of them. One was quick, the other wasn’t. But in the end, the lawyer we chose turned out to be a bit macho and didn’t appreciate our many thousands of questions, which he interpreted as a lack of trust in him. Which, in retrospect, was not what we were thinking, but the inconsistency within his firm (we hired him, he went on vacation for two months and gave us to one associate, who also went on vacation and subsequently passed us on to the next) did stick us with a pretty costly mistake. So now we have a new lawyer, introduced to us by our friend and next door neighbor. We will be more delicate with him.

The accountant was easier to determine. None of the accountants listed anywhere could speak English, so we asked American friends with big projects in Turkey. There was one clear standout and we contacted him. And he is great. So far. Our new lawyer told us that in Turkey it is best not to trust anyone. “Including me”, he says with a smile.

 

Buying a building in Istanbul: A status report, after the fact Part II Without a Net

At the point where you would like to offer some money (all of it at once and in cash!) for a building, you must enter into negotiations with the owners. With or without an emlakci, this is serious business. During our first set of discussions (see the Pink Pirate Academy,) we did have the constant moderation of an emlakci. She worked between us and the owners by arranging meetings, pushing the deal forward, convincing both sides that it was a good transaction. She arranged engineers and architects to survey the building, assuring us that it was in good condition. She invited the builder that she works with to give us a quote on the restoration. She convinced the owner that it is no problem to sell to foreigners, that there is no delay in the process (she was lying) and everything would be fine. Apparently the owner did not appreciate her services, as he sold the building out from under her (and us) the very morning we had made our decision to buy it.

For our second attempt there was no emlakci involved. Since we had found the building through word of mouth, it was necessary to negotiate directly with the owners for its sale. A Turkish friend helped a lot in the process this time around, as much as we would allow him. And we were constantly schooled in doing things ‘the Turkish way’. Which, as far as we could tell, just means lots of talking and not a lot of doing.

The actual owners were two quite aged gentlemen who generally stay at home, leaving their sons to run the family hardware-store business in Karaköy. Our contact person in the negotiations was one of these sons, who, while discussing price and conditions of the sale would simultaneously take phone orders, welcome customers and coordinate with the assistants in the shop. Fortunately for us, the contact person on our end is a Turkish man, because they were not completely comfortable with a foreigner female present in their shop.

But in the end, we settled on a price and entered into the transaction which, because it does not involve a mortgage, a loan, or any other bank involvement was actually pretty easy. Well, it would be easy if not for the fact that foreigners must undergo military checks to buy property in Turkey. Although we planned to purchase the building as an established Turkish LLC, since it is foreigner-owned we are not exempt from this screening process. So, technically we were not able to fully take possession of the building until we have passed these checks. Instead, we had the owners sign a “Promise to Sell” agreement over to our lawyer (another long story) for transfer to us once we pass.

Will we pass the military checks? “Inşallah”, some in Turkey would say. Others might say, “I hope”, “I wish”, or “good luck.” This law is an old one to prevent large groups of immigrants from buying all the property in a strategic neighborhood. Properties near ports, military installations, and other zones are heavily screened. I don’t think the law was originally intended for Americans and other Europeans, but nonetheless it applies to us now. And as it is we are near a port and the Turkish Central Bank. Inşallah.

Other legal matters in the purchase transaction included Doctor’s clearance for the two elderly sellers. Because these men are over 85, they had to be determined to be of sound mind to sell a building. They passed, and now in our documents are two official physician’s statements with the mug shots of two tired old men who just want to seal the deal! With all the legalities wrapped up, we spent countless hours in the Noter’s office, having numerous documents stamped and signed into eternity. And in the end we almost have a building. But first we had more legal issues to address. . .

 

Buying a building in Istanbul: A status report, after the fact. Part 1

It was our intention to have semi-daily updates of this process, but that idea fell victim to reality–the reality of doing too many things at one time in an attempt to buy a new Caravansarai.

We bought the book Buying a Property in Turkey and read it cover to cover. Simple enough it seemed. There is a process, people had done it before. It is possible. The authors made suggestions, used examples and provided translations of commonly used words and phrases. In a word, its simplicity was “misleading”.

One way to begin the search is to use an ‘emlakci’ (real estate agent). But, as with many professions in Turkey, there are no accreditation requirements to become an emlakci. It’s enough to cover the windows of your dimly lit hovel in colorful signs listing properties for rent and for sale. These red, blue, and white listings plastered on the front of a storefront are the easiest way to locate an emlakci. But how much they know beyond what is listed in the signs is a crap shoot.

So, you read over their listings, enter the office, smile, and as cheerfully as you can, explain to them what you want and why. Then they offer you tea, check the computer and grab some keys. Or better yet, they send you off with one of their ‘boys’ to show you whatever property THEY feel is right for you. When you arrive there, it is usually with the wrong keys in hand, the owner will not be back for another few hours or something else happens to waste your time. For the most part, they don’t listen at all to what you say (they are just watching the pretty foreigner flap her lips and the dollar signs reflecting from the green of her eyes), and then proceed to show you places that are too expensive, too small, too far away or in horrible condition. This wastes an incredible amount of time. With a few exceptions, we mostly stopped visiting these places after 6 months or so.

Actually, Julie stopped visiting these places. Anika was conveniently in the states for much of the shopping process. So in order to make things a bit more efficient for herself, Julie adopted another strategy: browsing the real estate listings online, from the comfort of her home, or wandering around Tophane and Karakoy, looking for empty buildings. Sometimes the buildings sported ‘FOR SALE BY OWNER’ banners, but at other times it all came down to asking questions of nearby shopkeepers. Istanbul possesses, at it’s most euphemistic, an involved citizenry. This level of nosiness is advantageous for us when trying to shake people down for information regarding empty buildings. People ‘hang out’, in the process collecting numeric information about most every neighbor’s rent, age, salary and family history. It was in this way that we found and eventually entered into negotiations for the building we eventually bought: The Tan Han.

Our neighborhood emlakci/lightbulb/wiring salesman/nice guy

 

Tea, Tavla, and Tall Tales

Now that Caravansarai has a building, we have begun our first project. Part documentation, part research, part architecture, part installation—the project’s working title is “Tea, Tavla, and Tall Tales.”

Our building was built in the 80s in the Perşembe Pazarı in Karaköy, and has provided office and showroom space for hardware salespeople (mostly men) since it was built. But the neighborhood is changing, as neighborhoods do, and we are aware of our role in this ‘gentrification’ (although one could argue that opening a production space with not much commercial viability is not really gentrifying.) In any case, we would like to find out how the current tenants of the Caravansarai building feel not only about our invasion of their neighborhood, but also their historical perceptions. When did they arrive there? What was it like then? Do they know what was there before? What do they think we are doing there?

To investigate these questions, we, with the help of Turkish volunteers, will conduct some oral history interviews and transcribe them into English. After some research into the history and mythology of the Galata/Karakoy neighborhood, we will try to overlay their stories with other historical stories and then invite artists to create their own myths (informed by the information gathered) in any medium to be incorporated into the architecture of the building.

Speaking of architecture—it is crucial that we begin this process now, as the current tenants will not be there much longer, at which point we will begin the renovation of the space from hardware emporium to art space.

 

Home

Caravansarai now has a home in Karakoy! The process was/is long and torturous, but interesting. When we are recovered from the trauma, check back for a riveting account of the building-buying process in Istanbul!

 

Why?

This is not our view of Istanbul

Since the outset of the Caravansarai project, Julie and I have been repeatedly asked the same question:
“Why, as Americans, do you want to have a project space in Istanbul?” And to us the answer seems obvious and straightforward enough that neither of us personally considered that we would get asked this question so often. But for the record–here are some of our justifications.

*Why not?
*Julie has been living in Istanbul for awhile now and this evolved out of projects she had already undertaken successfully
*Anne (Anika) has wanted to propel an artistic community for many years, but was not able to find the right working partner until she met Julie in Istanbul
*It is currently economically feasible and profitable in Turkey unlike in the “recession zone’ (U.S.)
*We are interested in playing a role in the development of contemporary artists from that particular region–Middle East, North Africa, Caucasus, Balkans–for purely aesthetic reasons. Look at Bidoun Magazine for inspiration!
*Our contacts are in the region
*Turkey and turkish artists are garnering a lot of attention and financial support from Europe at the moment for many political and social reasons and we see a need for our space and services in this mid-point.
*Istanbul rocks!

We understand the need for us to clarify why we are attempting this, but so far it all just seems to make sense given our individual personal direction as well as economic factors. Our business plan does include expanding Caravansarai into the United States at a later date with the acquisition of a building in the Hudson Valley of New York. We have colleagues and parties in the performance world in that region with whom we are working and if the banks ever start giving loans again we may have a space sooner than later! And Anika can finally have a place to raise her miniature donkeys!

 

Summer camp flashbacks on Wasan Island

The 1st training retreat of the freeDimensional Emerging Art Space Support Initiative (EASSI), somewhere on an island in Ontario, Canada.

Caravansarai is a part of this network and was half-way invited to the retreat. (I could come but Anne couldn’t)

After five rather glorious days of cooked meals, complete emmersion into a ‘curated’ community and an not working mobile phone (which left me completely ignorant of the time and date), it abruptly ended. We loaded into the bus, onto the plane and now I’m suddenly home.

It was a useful way to spend an early summer week. There was a fair bit of ‘hard knowledge’: sessions for financial planning, budgeting and cash flow forecasting. We also had time for information sharing among those working in quite opposite ends of the earth. The days were full, morning sessions, afternoon sessions and evening presentations. We started out the week rather serious, but after a few days of sessions, stories, coffees, dinners and swims we got to know the other sides of each other. The last night I can admit to actively participating in a three-hour ‘truth or dare’ session in the hot tub, which ran some hours after midnight.

Our facilitators were all from the States, so my self-assigned mission for the week was to try to fit the US NGO rhetoric they were offering, into my reality of trying to start a space in Istanbul. I was used to the language, I was familiar with the concepts and structures, but had never attempted to really integrate these two worlds. The answer? I’m still working on it.

We all came from places with variable levels of regulations, freedoms, censorship and self-censorship. Our local communities and politics make a big influence on how we can produce our projects. The country list for the week was quite staggering : Mexico, Jordan, USA, Canada, India, Israel, Argentina, Senegal, Brazil, Turkey, Bahrain, Egypt, Tajikistan, Democratic Republic of Congo. So what do we have in common?

We all need
- funding: here are some challenges and strategies we came up with

- promotions: we had website consultations with Ari Moore, webmaster of the freeDimensional website and shared our techniques for online and local promotions

- advice: after this week we at least feel quite connected to each other as people, perhaps in the future we’ll be able to utilize one another’s expertise and experience.

Back to life…People to meet, buildings to buy, new website sites to make and yogurt to eat!