One thing I’ve learned about military coups: They sure do spoil the weekend.

Here, on a beautiful Saturday morning in the city, I’m stuck at the apartment, following the news, when I’d planned to be swimming off the coast of Caddebostan. And the temperature is supposed to be over 90 degrees today.

Omer, my swimming buddy, grimly agreed. “Roads are still closed,” he messaged on Facebook (at least the social media was working again). “I cannot drive. Maybe tomorrow.”

Actually, as you’ve probably heard or read by now, the coup, or the attempt by a faction of the military to take over the country late Friday night, has failed, or “been squashed,” as the papers here reported. By the time, I woke up Saturday morning – after a restless night, hearing the loud roar of fighter jets over the city – it was all but over.

Numerous rebel soldiers had been killed in overnight clashes with pro-government forces, and many others had been rounded up. On the news, there were reports that rebel troops who’d late last night taken over the Bosphorus Bridge, which connects Europe and Asia, had surrendered to the authorities just after dawn.

My wife Ozge was fast asleep. She’d been up late, following the updates on her phone. Fortunately, she didn’t have to go to work after all — the national palace was closed. Our cat, Ginger, was sunning herself on the balcony. Lucky cat: She was supposed to have a vet appointment today, but the office was closed so she got out of it.

I made coffee, went out to the balcony with my laptop, and turned on CNNTurk. There were images of some of the rounded-up rebels, hand-cuffed, their backs to the screen. An official was shouting at them, telling them they were traitors. There were ongoing reports, how the country as restored to normal, and President Recep Tayyip Erdogan was still in control.

Around noon, my wife woke up. We were hungry, so I went downstairs to the shop. The Starbucks on the corner was open, as was the supermarket and bakery. The traffic was light, and only a few people were out walking. But that’s not so unusual – this is July and many people are out of the city at their country houses, or on holiday in the south anyway.

At the bakery, I bought some sandwich bread and simit. “Everything is normal?” I asked the cashier, a man who recognized me as a regular.

“Normal? Inshallah,” he said. God willing.

I agreed, and tapped wood for good measure. I paid the bill with my bank card, glad to see it worked. So the banks were all running normally.

Back at the flat, my wife made breakfast. We sat in the living room, eating, and listening to the news.

“More than 100 people were killed,” my wife said, translating. “Think about that: While we slept last night, all these people (the rebels, as well as some pro-government policemen) were dying.”

We still couldn’t believe any of it, even as the news droned endlessly on. There was footage now of the various opposition groups (the normal opposition parties, not the rebels) showing their support for the government, for “democracy.” There was footage of rallies, with the people all shouting their support as well. As I have noted before, you have to hand it to Erdogan. Accused by many (including this author) of being a dictator, an authoritarian, of trying to move Turkey away from its secular tradition to a more Islamic state, once again he has shown himself to be a survivor, tough and shrewd. It always seems, whenever there is some kind of crisis, he has a way of drawing the people to him.

Of course, in the social media, there were widespread, differing reactions. Some people expressed disappointment that the coup had failed, and feared that it would now further embolden the ruling AK Party’s conservative agenda. Others refused to believe that the coup was legitimate, or that it was staged to specifically bolster the administration. “The Truman Show,” one young woman in Ankara proclaimed, with wry amusement.

The official reports claimed that the rebels were in fact supports of the U.S.-based cleric Fethullah Gulen. He and Erdogan used to be buddies, but fell out a few years ago. Gulen fled to the U.S, where he now resides in Pennsylvania, resisting efforts by the Turkish government to have him extradited. Gulen has reportedly denied any involvement with Friday’s coup attempt, and was even quoted as denouncing it. Some reports suggested that the rebel soldiers were set to be court-martialed on charges of conspiracy for their alleged Gulen support, and had staged the coup because of that.

Of course, for folks like us, my wife and I, all this is neither here nor there; talk of a “parallel,” or “Deep State,” has always been the national pastime here. Such charges, or accusations, are nothing new and will not go away, just as military coups seem to be almost a national tradition.

“How are your parents?” I asked my wife, as we ate. She’d been on the phone with them when she got up earlier.

“Fine,” she said. They live in the south of Turkey, far away from the tumult here in Istanbul and Ankara.

“I could just imagine what you’re father’s saying,” I said.

“Oh, this is nothing,” Ozge remarked. “My father, he lived through the ‘real’ coups, in the Sixties, Seventies and Eighties.”

“True.” Images of the bloody 1980 coup, which even I’d read about, momentarily flashed.

“What are we going to do all day?” Ozge asked, somewhat exasperated.

Good question: What does one do the day after a (failed) military coup? Go and play beach volleyball? Rent a movie? Wear chain-mail and a strap-on? Hack your garden up with a chainsaw? Plan a murder or start a religion?

The possibilities were endless. But with all the smoke still clearing, it seemed best to stay home and in front of the laptop. The voices of the commentators, the replayed actualities, droned on and on like a broken recording, like you were living in a suspended reality.

“Well,” I said, “At least you managed to get the day off.”

“Right,” Ozge said. “But at what cost? Only a hundred-plus lives, destruction, and a lot of mental stress for everyone.”

Whatever you want to call the events of the past – what has it been, 15 hours? Coup, coup attempt, failed coup attempt, or theater, the Truman show, or merely a passing bad dream, a lot has changed overnight – probably more than we realize. We’ll feel the effects down the road, in the days, weeks and months to come.

For now though,it’s strangely calm and almost-normal outside.

No bombs are crashing down, or bullets flying, no bodies lying in the street, riots or looting – nothing like what you’d expect from a military coup proper, or something you’d see in a movie.

Almost normal – which means not normal at all..

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James Tressler, a former Lost Coast resident, is a writer and teacher in Istanbul. His latest collection of Letters, “Living With Terror,” can be found at lulu.com