Maslow's famous hierarchy of needs is usually depicted as a pyramid, once basic necessities such as food and safety have been satisfied, only then are humans able to pursue "higher activities" such as self-fulfillment, relationships and professional advancement. When a society lacks fundamental necessities such as safety or sustenance, its people will flee halfway across the world to find another society able to provide them with these most basic of human needs.Living in the Syrian city of Homs during the first year of the conflict felt like living on board a sinking ship caught in a massive storm inexorably taking on water. It was only a matter of time before it and everyone on board ended up at the bottom of the ocean. Moving to the coastal city of Tartous felt like living on board a small rescue ship caught in the same storm, crowded and still at the mercy of the same storm.It was only when I moved to Istanbul that I felt that my feet were on firm land, safe from the storms that still battered the seas. And 15 months of living a life where neither safety nor sustenance were a cause for concern has allowed me the freedom to appreciate certain aspects of life in the city, above and beyond what Maslow may have considered to be "basic needs."Warmth - I will never get over how amazingly simple it is to warm a home in Istanbul compared to the lengths people have to go through in much of the Middle East.Back in Syria, the main sources of heating are stoves or radiators fed by heating fuel. And in a quasi-state-controlled economy such as Syria's there is never enough fuel to go around. Towns near border areas are especially susceptible to shortages as the fuel tends to be smuggled into countries where it can fetch higher prices. If one is lucky enough to secure a supply of heating fuel from a vendor, the fuel is stored in storage tanks on rooftops, a cumbersome process that is especially difficult in high buildings during winter. Anytime warm water is used, or a stove is lit for warmth, the precious and hard to obtain fuel is expended, with no guarantee that a replenishment of the supply will be available.And forget about electric heaters, especially in war when electricity cuts could last 18 hours a day in those parts of the country that still had electricity. I will never forget the amazing day when a Turkish friend explained exactly how the unfamiliar box on my Istanbul apartment's balcony worked. Flick a switch and the gas mains connected to the apartment would heat the water. Flick it another direction and radiators would warm every room. Warm water and heating for the asking. No more running after heating fuel vendors in the streets or worrying that the fuel I did have would be stolen in the middle of the night or that it would turn out to be diluted. With the memory of past winters in Syria, the convenience of a home warmed by means of natural gas seemed too good to be true.Electricity 24 hours a day, every day. As ridiculous as it may sound, but even in 2014 numerous countries with advanced economies, technical capabilities and abundant supplies of fuel are still not able to supply their people with reliable, around-the-clock electricity. South Africa, Egypt, Venezuela, Iran, India and Pakistan to name just a few countries that, in theory, should have no problem providing reliable and constant power to their cities, and yet experience crippling power shortages. In Lebanon and Syria, there are several generations who have never known life without electricity rationing.And when daily power outages and blackouts are a fact of life, then life revolves completely around those hours of the day when electricity is available. To lose electricity is to be sent back to a 19th century quality of life. Decades of Baathist mismanagement of the Syrian economy have resulted in several generations of Syrians who have never known life without electricity rationing. Nothing says "primitive" like entire commercial districts filled with the noise of diesel generators trying to keep the lights on in stores.To go from a society where 12-hour-a-day power outages are the norm to one where electricity is supplied around the clock is like moving to another planet where the day has double the amount of hours. Reliable electricity is not considered a glamorous achievement in the same league as ridiculously tall skyscrapers or mega-malls with a trillion square feet of luxury brand names under their roofs. And yet one would be hard pressed to name any other modern day convenience that affects one's quality of life to such a large degree.A reliable banking system. It might seem like an extravagance for refugees to concern themselves with bank accounts. But nothing could be further from the truth. After ensuring the safety of one's family and securing sustenance and shelter, the next overriding priority for any refugee is to become financially self-sufficient in the shortest time possible. Because regardless of how generous a host country may be in the aid it provides for refugees, history has demonstrated time and again that the longer a refugee crisis goes on, the more likely donor fatigue will set it. No refugee wants their family to be dependent on ever-decreasing amounts of aid spread among an ever increasing number of recipients. Often, the professional skills or trade that a refugee has gained throughout the years are the only assets they have to rely on to rebuild their lives.But even the most experienced or educated individual's economic potential and ability to earn a living is limited by the financial tools and services available to them. I know from first-hand experience after living and working in Syria how exceedingly difficult any significant financial activity can be when the banking system is so abysmal as to be next to useless. ATMs that never had enough money even when there wasn't a massive line in front of them. Banks from which withdrawals were impossible anytime the regime decided to cut off communications in a province. Many times, financial institutions in Syria just did not have enough banknotes to meet the day to day demands of their customers. A person could have millions of liras in an account with no way of actually getting their money out of a bank.The war made matters infinitely worse. Withdrawals on dollar-denominated bank accounts could no longer be made except when the dollars were exchanged on the spot at the government's ludicrous rate of exchange. Money transfers outside of Syria were blocked leaving numerous Syrian students studying abroad with no means to pay for their education. Credit cards, already ludicrously difficult to obtain, were banned altogether. By early 2013, I had so given up on the country's banking system that I resorted to keeping all my money under my bed mattress. If one of the first priorities of a refugee is to become financially independent, I can tell you there is no financial security in stashing one's money under the bed.By the summer of 2013 even the system of money transfer offices, the last financial link most Syrians had to the outside world, was close to collapse. In June of that year Western Union offices in most of Syria stopped operating, leaving just two offices in the coastal city of Tartous.To stand in a Western Union office in Tartous at that time was to witness a human tragedy that rivaled any scene at U.N. refugee offices. Daily, hundreds of people from all over Syria who had made the dangerous trip to the port city would crowd into an office that was never meant to service more than a couple of dozen customers a day. Hours would be spent while IDs were collected among the desperate pleas of the elderly or the sick to be allowed to jump the line. And then hours more waiting while a transfer was confirmed from the head office. Even army officers or members of the regime's notorious shabiha militias could not expect special treatment under such conditionsSince arriving in Istanbul, not a single day has gone by when I did not fall asleep feeling immense gratitude. Grateful for a warm bed, grateful in the knowledge that I sleep in a safe home and that I will wake up in the morning to a stocked kitchen and that I am able to sustain myself through the dignity of my own labors.Dignity - It is very hard to appreciate what it means until one has lost it. Maslow had it wrong. There is an even more basic layer in the pyramid of human needs. A person who perceives their dignity to have been lost will never rest until they feel it has been restored. Not pride, not ego, but the sense of self-worth and fulfillment that comes from earning one's way through the world by one's own labors, of being able to provide for one's family. Living in Turkey has afforded me more rights and dignity than I ever felt I had from years of living and working in a half dozen Arab countries, including my own. And that is something for which I will never stop feeling grateful.