In Argentina you can have your soda water delivered to your door; in many parts of Turkey you can get almost anything you need without leaving the house. Provided you live nearby, most shops and restaurants will deliver to your house, even for the smallest purchases. If you make a purchase in a bigger shop (a piece of furniture, for example), almost always the shop will deliver it to your home for no additional cost. In addition to this, a plethora of vendors roam the streets selling (or sometimes collecting) their wares.
The eskici normally pushes a cart, or he may drive an open-backed truck. In this case, he isn’t selling anything, he just wants to collect your old unwanted stuff, sometimes in exchange for a small fee.
In my old apartment, the simitci was a regular visitor. He passed at 8:45am every morning, carrying a tray of simits balanced on his head, announcing himself with a melodious cry. To stop him and buy one, you go out onto your balcony and yell “simitci, geliyorum!” (I’m coming, simit seller!). The man comes to the door of your apartment building while you run downstairs with your money, take your simits and run back upstairs to eat them.
Other regulars passing by the apartment were the farmer carrying his basket of eggs fresh from the village, and trucks or carts loaded with whatever produce happened to be in season: watermelons, cucumbers, cherries, potatoes.
We don’t live in the city any more, and the shouts of street vendors have been replaced with birdsong and the odd tractor. It’s more peaceful, but sometimes I miss those sounds of everyday life.
About the authorLucy