March snow...

There are six inches of fresh snow on the ground this morning, and it's still coming down.

It's the punctuation to a week that left me and most of my colleagues worn-down and weary. In addition to the usual workload, many of us picked up extra hours subbing for colleagues who were attending weddings or conferences out of town. We also spent a morning proctoring the oral interview quiz, which largely amounted to two hours of listening to and assessing some half-baked answers to questions like "Would you like to live as a cowboy?" or "What are some ways in which you could conserve water?" The same day, some of us were asked to proctor an additional two-hour written exam. Add to that a few miscellaneous meetings with students, and my usual planning day was gone before I even had a chance to look at it.

I trudged (while spontaneously lesson-planning in the moment) through Thursday and Friday during which I teach every available class period. By Friday evening, I had a headache, a stomach ache, and no patience left.

Alan and I were both exhausted, and we had a fight almost immediately when we came home on Friday (which we later discussed on a more even keel and came to a resolution). Thankfully, we went to a friend's house for some board games and beer. That took the edge off nicely!

Ironically, yesterday I spent the day shopping for lightweight blouses and coral-colored nail polish because my winter sweaters and black nails seemed too heavy for March. Looking out the window now, my coral nails feel comically premature.

I'm baking the cookie mix that my mom sent for us. They smell delicious! I already ate a few spoonfuls of the dough, so I'll wait a few more minutes to have a cookie, but I'm always appreciative for something from the States.

In the previous sentence I had to choose "the States" or "home." It's hard to say where my home is at this point. I've been in Turkey for nine months now. I own a car and rent an apartment here. I work here. Is this my home? Before I get too lost in the questions haunting my life as an adult, let's change the subject.

I read an article in the New York Times this morning about a young man from Minnesota who decided to join ISIS in Syria. Although I live in Turkey, a neighboring country to Syria and Iraq, and the main entryway for people wanting to join ISIS, I am very sheltered from what's going on. The NYT story caught my attention because a "regular" guy from Minnesota decided that his best life choice was to go to a war-ravaged country and pick up a machine gun.

I've made some crazy decisions in my life (Cambodia, anyone?), but I can't even imagine deciding to go to Syria. There's got to be another way to find fulfilment in your life.

Turkey is situated in the middle of the madness. Syria, Ukraine, Russia, Iraq, Iran, Israel, Gaza...

I try not to think about the craziness too much. I have students from Iraq and Afghanistan in my classes. I want to ask them so many questions about their families and their situations, but I don't know how. I think about one of my Iraqi students a lot. She's from Baghdad and she has super long black hair that she styles fashionably in a ponytail with her bangs coiffed in a bump. She lines her eyes heavily with kohl and she always has a cute smile on. She wears skinny jeans and high-top sneakers. When we did our pen pal assignment, she wrote enthusiastic messages and I was so happy that at least one American was getting to see this awesome person from a country that doesn't usually stand a chance in American rhetoric. Meeting and befriending people from other countries is one of the best ways to get past prejudice.

I have been so fortunate to have close friends from Saudi Arabia, Kuwait, and Turkey, and to have formed bonds with students from Iraq, Afghanistan, Mali, Senegal, Burkina Faso, and other parts of the world. I love my job because I get to meet people who have different orientations to the world. I get to push my own boundaries and challenge my own stereotypes. I get to have really awkward moments, like discussing "conspiracy theories" about September 11th (thanks much to my textbook) with an Afghani student in my classroom. I get to have amazing moments where students from Turkey and students from Senegal realize that they practice the same traditions during Muslim holidays. I like to think of my job as a foundation for diplomacy and conversation between nations.

It's still snowing. The cookies are out of the oven. Alan's awake.

It's time for breakfast. Thanks for reading.

The weekend, so far.

The weather is colder today. It rained and thundered earlier. The sky is gray. I supposed the change rolled in sometime yesterday, as the wind gusts yesterday were like Nebraska's.

Yesterday, Alan and I went hiking with one of our good friends. We drove to the edge of a canyon and hiked down a washed out road. A flash flood had reeked havoc on this canyon sometime in the past year, and the downed trees were visual evidence.

The canyon itself was picturesque and idyllic. Spring's deceptive warmth glowed off of boulders as we scampered across them. A creek flowed next to us, pulling leaves and sticks through a winding maze of rocks, downed tree limbs, and small waterfalls.

We challenged each other to a barefoot cold water challenge in the creek. We dried off and headed back. The boys took a challenging climb back to the top of the canyon to see some sheep, and I headed back the way we came. I found the sheep trail and the big flock my own way.

We met up again to try slack lining--a flat rope hung between two trees. Our line was about 3 feet off of the ground. Alan and our friend were amazing at this feat of balance. I wasn't so much.

The cold wind had changed the sun to clouds, so we started to get cold. Back to the car.

We ordered Gözleme (like a quesadilla) and köfte (small hamburger shaped patties) at a local restaurant. We discussed the ups and downs of living abroad.

We dropped our friend off near the fence behind his house.

I drove the rest of the way home, including a precariously busy street.

About an hour later, we found a message from our friend that he had had an accident while scaling the fence. More or less getting lightly impaled in the thigh by one of the spikes atop the fence.

We decided that a hospital trip was definitely in order, so we picked him up for our first Turkish hospital visit. He was in surprisingly good spirits, but clearly needed stitches and a dose or two of iodine.

After a non-comprehensible conversation with the woman running the front desk, we found the emergency exam room. Our friend had lost a lot of blood and wasn't waking very well.

Alan accompanied his to the exam room, armed with my iPad to take photos. Our friend's sister wanted to see the damage. I stayed in the waiting area, as I am known to be super queasy.

About 30 minutes later, everything was taken care of. We tried to find an open pharmacy, which is nearly impossible on a Saturday night. The pharmacies rotate which will be open Saturdays, and it's only about six of them in the whole city. We didn't find one, but I took a picture of the list of open ones to show some of our friends later (we needed directions).

Instead of antibiotics, we decided that some Turkish fast food was the next best. We found a bakery serving pide (thin bread with cheese or meat--like a long, thin pizza) and lahmacun (sort of like a soft taco served with lemon juice and parsley). The meal was delicious, and for the first time in my life, I enjoyed drinking ayran (a popular salty, liquid yogurt drink).

We hung out for a few hours at his place for a beer, some time with a cat, and to make sure he was doing okay. It's hard to beat cat therapy in my opinion.

While I'm on the subject of therapy, some of the foreign female teachers and I went to the spa on Friday night. I paid for one of the best massages of my life (they are so much better if you have been craving one for eight months), and got a free scrub down by my colleagues in the Turkish bath. It was just what I needed. My skin is soft and glowing, and I think my shoulders now rest at least an inch lower than they were last week.

So far the weekend has been pretty unpredictable, so I'm hoping for an easy Sunday.

Manual transmission blues

So far, my experience driving a stick shift (manual transmission) in Turkey has seen ups, downs, and a few more stalls than I'd like to admit.

I mean, I've never driven stick shift in America before, and Turkey is not exactly a country of rule-following drivers, so as a learning ground, it's not that friendly.

Yesterday, I was living the good life, fifth gear cruising. I drove on the highway all the way to Cappadocia with no incidents. Alan and I laughed about the Turkish "bogeys" that pop up about every five minutes. Such blips on the radar include drivers cruising down the middle of a two lanes going half the speed limit, random pedestrians streaking across the road, giant tumbleweeds, etc. I successfully navigated all the bogeys and didn't stall once.  Alan praised my successful attempt and encouraged me a lot. I did make the car roll backwards down a hill when Alan and I were switching places. Lesson learned: our parking break has two levels "not quite engaged" and "engaged."

Today, I was not living the good life. Picture this: we've just finished grocery shopping after a long hike. I'm trying to back out of my parking space into one of the exits of a poorly regulated roundabout intersection (a major bogey in itself). My parking space is on a hill, and there is traffic. I coasted out of the space fine, but thanks to a little too much adrenaline, I pulled my foot off the clutch too soon and stalled it out. Right there in the middle of the street. put put put.

I started it up again, and made it to the stop light. At a complete stop, I coached myself of what I would do at the green light. Of course as my light changed, some cute Turkish girls (total bogeys) stepped into the crosswalk, inciting a chorus of honks behind me. I waited for the girls, and as my path cleared, the honking continued. Flustered, I again didn't get the gas-clutch timing right. Damn. put put put. stall.

Alan wasn't pleased. The honking continued.

I got us going again, made it into second and third gear before approaching an intersection that doesn't make any sense, and I hate crossing even as a pedestrian. It's a Turkish psuedo-roundabout that causes a lot of accidents. As I was really focused on the foot coordination coming from my complete stop in the roundabout, I pretty much forgot to look for cars coming. Luckily Alan alerted me, and I stopped just in time. After that, I successfully got into first gear and made it to our parking lot, which involved small hills and sharp turns. I stalled getting into a tight parking space, which was a self-esteem-crushing last blow. I guess I had forgotten the number one rule: don't come to a full stop while in gear. Alan reminded me of the rule with a disapproving tone. I felt really embarrassed.

For me, driving a stick shift is like playing a new sport. I have the right moves to play volleyball without even thinking, but when you had me a basketball, even though I kind of know what I'm supposed to do, it's not fluid or confident. I have to think about every movement, and then I forget to do basic things and someone steals the ball. Driving in a foreign country is sometimes like playing blindfolded, or at least playing on a topsy-turvy court, so I'm trying to cut myself some slack. Getting the foot coordination for a manual is my new challenge. I'm not allowed (self-imposed rule) to drive in Kayseri yet. Talas, maybe, if there are none of the big hills involved.

Eventually I'll be able to drive this car without stalling or doing other problematic things to the engine. Until then I need to be patient with myself.

By the way, Alan says I'm really good at racing sticks in creeks. That was our mini adventure today. Unfortunately our creek was really close to a private shooting range and we decided we were too close to unregulated weapons. Back to the car!

Snow day photo

Our first weekend with the new car

Alan driving

So, now that Alan and I have a car, we have driven in a total of three times. Alan successfully drove a group of guys downtown to the Turkish bath on Friday, but the other two times, yesterday and today, haven't been so great. 

Both times, our engine overheated within 30 minutes of starting. We weren't doing anything crazy in our driving (even during my manual driving practice session). Yesterday, steam was escaping from our hood as we stalled. After a push start, we stalled again. We coasted down the hill, wondering whether our gas gauge was off. We filled up the tank, but experienced the same problem again, this time on going up a hill. The check engine light came on as did the engine temperature light. Alan skillfully rolled us into a driveway were we waited for the engine to cool off.

At home, we checked the antifreeze: full. We checked for a leak: none to be found.

We took a three hour nap before driving it to the grocery store.

I'm learning

Today, we tried to take a 45-drive to a nearby reservoir. We made it about 3/4 of the way, just outside of town, before our car stalled.  We sat, hood open, for 10 minutes. We pushed a little farther before we stalled in an intersection (luckily not a crowded one). 

We smartly decided to turn back and headed toward the industrial part of Kayseri where all the mechanic shops are. Meanwhile, I recruited help from several colleagues to get numbers of other colleagues who could come out and help us decide what to do next. 

The final stall happened on a busy street near a busy intersection. We were stuck in a dangerous place for a few minutes as we waited for the engine to cool off. Just as I was getting ready to get out and push, a huge Turkish bus pulled up behind us, honking. That's pretty normal, but then a Turk jumped out and gave our car a hefty push so we could make the turn and get off of the main drag.

We rolled to a stop near a gas station, where we sat as I called the colleague from whom we bought the car and the colleague who loves cars.

At some point, the colleague who was trying to come to our rescue couldn't find us and asked us to find a Turkish person to give him directions to find us. Here is the magic of Turkey.

I walked up to the first person I saw standing outside a gas station and in my best Turkish said, "Can you help me?" as I handed him the phone. Before he had finished the conversation, a group of Turks had amassed. I understood my directions: "stay put."

I was thirsty, though, so I headed to our car to grab my water bottle. The crowd of Turks nearly had a fit. "Don't leave! Stay here, he said" They shouted. Alan stayed to ease their minds that we had understood our directions.

They must have been so relieved when I came back, water bottle in hand. We were offered a seat and hot tea by the gas station workers--because this is Turkey. They patiently talked to us in Turkish and kept us company until our colleague arrived. I was overwhelmed by their hospitality to complete strangers. As Alan pointed out later, even though we sometimes feel unwanted here, in general, when we need help, Turks are generally more than willing to help and make our experience more comfortable. 

After giving our engine a once-over, our colleague took us to his friend's repair shop nearby. Ironically, after stalling on the busy street, we had coasted to a stop remarkably close to the repair shop without knowing where we were going.

It must have been our lucky day because the mechanic was open and willing to drop everything he was doing to help us out. It's all about who you know in Turkey. Going to a random shop with no recommendation from a friend is no good here.

Not exactly what I had in mind for our
first weekend with the Burrito Mobile

After an hour of touching, smelling, and revving our engine, the mechanic assessed that we hadn't caused major damage to the gaskets, but that our cooling system wasn't working properly because there was apparently no water in the radiator and our car had really cheap anti-freeze. He flushed the cooling system It sounded like we had run a pretty big risk by continuing to drive the car, as the gasket repair would run at least $1000. We never really got an answer about what caused the problem, though maybe a harsh stop or start had shaken things just too far out of place and caused a brief leak. Anyway, we hope that the problem is largely fixed now.

Seven liters of "organik" antifreeze later, we successfully drove home. It was the cheapest trip to a mechanic I've ever seen: $40 or so.

So, while I can say that we had two "adventures" with our car this weekend, they weren't quite the kind I had in mind.

Buying a car in Kayseri

Alan and I now own a 2007 Hyundai. Well technically, I own a 2007 Hyundai. But it's a manual, so I can't exactly drive it. Not yet anyway.

Today was my first time buying a car, in any country. I'm feeling pretty proud of us for taking the plunge.

Alan and I had been brainstorming ways to improve our lives in Talas for literally months. We've considered adopting pets, changing apartments, and renting cars on a bimonthly basis. Some of these options are more responsible than others, and some are definitely easier than others; but none seemed like a perfect fit.

Last weekend, we decided that buying a car would be the best solution. We could get out of the house on the weekends, explore the area, and not lose tons of money on rental cars. Plus, owning a car eliminates the need for constantly arranging pick up and drop off time and location--in Turkish.

So, I enlisted the help of a colleague who is car savvy. Literally within hours, he had selected a used car for us. While we were considering this car, our boss threw in a bid for our attention. As his wife didn't like the stick shift in their car, he was ready to sell in and use the money for something else. The car he was offering had been in the Meliksah family before. My officemate owned the car before my boss, and both of them loved the car, but couldn't keep it because of their wives not wanting to deal with manual transmission. I hope I'm not going to continue that trend.

Anyway, the process of buying a car in Turkey involves some bureaucracy. Today, Alan and I took two important steps. We went to a notary and we transferred payment to our boss.

Like so many things in Turkey, the notary office was sort of familiar (signatures, documents, and stamps), but mostly chaotic and in a foreign language. My colleagues had warned me that they would test our Turkish with a few simple questions about our work or Kayseri. I don't know why they want to know that we understand Turkish, much less that we can speak, but anyway, they do. Our boss took Alan and me to the notary office, which was basically a big office with six desks and customers everywhere, haphazardly waiting in line, with no apparent order.

The room was loud with voices, computer sounds, and the thwacks of rubber stamps bringing up the noise levels. Alan and I took seats next to a desk where a woman greeted us. I nailed the greeting in Turkish. Then she asked me the Turkish equivalent of "Do you know Turkish?" Looking back, I'm pretty sure I confidently said "You know" instead of "I know", which is totally funny. In fact, I think I confidently made that mistake throughout the encounter, which has a wonderful irony to it.

We wanted the car to be in Alan's name, because he would be the primary driver. However, there were doubts about our proficiency in Turkish. Our boss tried to assure them, and I continued to say "You know". Then, we were directed to another desk where the background noise was even louder. The man in the sharp suit with a purple button up turned to Alan and asked a question that could even be misconstrued by a native speaker, much less a beginner. "What are you doing here?" The ambiguous "here" threw me for a loop, and his unusual phrasing made it hard for Alan to decode quickly. Alan's hesitation lasted a moment too long and the man turned to me. I froze and said something like, "We live here. Teachers." It wasn't satisfactory.

My boss whispered, "why are you in this office?" and I blurted out "Car! Buy... bought ..." My assertiveness made up for a lack of grammar and the man said, let's put the car in her name, she has better Turkish. While this isn't true (Alan and I are pretty much at the same level of Turkish), it was a confidence boost for me, and the lynchpin in us getting the car without having a translator present. I wrote on a paper (in Turkish) that I had understood and accepted the buyer/seller agreement, and then received some documents to sign.

Next, we went to the stamper desk where I had to say my phone number--a challenge I was more prepared for--and sign several more documents. After a few poundings with a rubber stamp, our paperwork was in order, and we (well, I) were the proud owner of a car!

When we came back to the office, I told everyone I saw (in Turkish) that we had bought a car. Turkish people love good news, and it was smiles and congratulations all around.

Transferring the payment was much easier. A simple function of online banking. It was hard to spend that much money, but I know it is an investment in our lives and our marriage. If all goes well, we will get most of that money back when we sell the car.

The next steps aren't very exciting. Insurance and license plates. We will take care of those as soon as possible so that the car is road-ready.

We are both really excited to see more of the city and surrounding area in our new car. If everything in in order, this weekend ought to be the beginning of a lot of adventures.

Plus, our next Turkish class starts next week. I'm feeling ready for some review...

Germany Trip

Alan and I made it to Germany and back. Our work contracts allow for a full week off between the 2nd and 3rd quarters, so we decided to visit my grandparents and then see Dresden, a city neither of us had been to.

Selected highlights of the trip:

Breakfast selections prepared by Oma. German breakfast might even beat Turkish breakfast...don't tell anyone. Oma's breakfast spread includes aged pork sausage, several varieties of light cheeses, the most delicious homemade bread, homemade jam, and boiled eggs. There's a pot of coffee ready, and German oldies playing on the radio. It's awesome.

German beer. There is beer in Turkey, but I can't say that it's good. It's sort of light Keystone light. But maybe worse. Anyway, Alan and I filled up while we could, enjoying one of Germany's traditions--when you are thirsty, drink beer.

Speaking some Deutsch. You may or may not know that I can speak German. I'm not as fluent as I once was, but compared to the ridiculous time I have speaking Turkish, using German is like a hot knife through butter. I felt my brain synapses firing in ways they haven't for a while. I ordered food, translated, and even managed some conversations with my grandparents. Learning languages--it's a good thing!

Using some Turkish. Although we are beginners, Alan and I know enough Turkish to say nice things during service encounters. At the Frankfurt airport, there are plenty of Turks, and we made use of our Turkish while getting our rental car. It was fun.

Tour of Melsungen. My grandparents live in a small village in central Germany, which means they often visit neighboring towns for shopping. In the past, both of their sons worked in Melsungen, a small town just down the road. The town is well-known as the home of Braun pharmacuticals and for its Fachwerkhaus architecture. Opa and Oma gave us a tour of the city after we strolled along the Fulda river. When we were chilled to the bone, they took us for coffee hour at a cafe.

Coffee hour is pretty much the best thing ever. Germans often break in the late afternoon for a cup of coffee and a slice of rich cake. Over the week we we in Germany, I tried a cheesecake and an special Egg cake (it's like cheesecake and custard had a delicious baby). I drank too much coffee.

Touring the Bergpark in Kassel. Oma and Opa took us to the park, but only Alan and I climbed the million stairs to the top, where the Herkules statue watches over the city. Then we all had lunch before continuing to the surprising awesome castle nearby.

Hanging out with my grandparents. I don't know how many grandkids are this lucky, but I've got awesome grandparents on two continents. My German grandparents are a lot of fun. They like to host, share good food and drink, and make jokes. Spending a few days with them was good for my soul.

Spending time with my husband. Of course we had challenges of vacationing, including driving in a foreign country, but we also had the awesome random parts, like walking around in Pirna and Jena (awesome city with an even finer name). We learned that a little coffee and cake fix a lot of things between 3 and 5 PM when lunch has worn off. We learned that navigating is better when you don't worry about messing up. We were also able to hold hands in public (comfortably) for the first time in a while...yes, we live in Kayseri.

Kurt Vonnegut tour in Dresden. If you've read the literary classic Slaughterhouse 5, you know that Dresden was destroyed in World War 2. Vonnegut's novel is set partially in Dresden, and a tour guide offers a walk and learn session just outside the city center to the actual Slaughterhouse where Vonnegut was himself held as prisoner. Although the walk was cold and I hadn't finished the book yet, the tour was excellent and enriched my Dresden experience.

Guacamole. Our funky hipster neighborhood in Dresden offered a Mexican restaurant, and for these two Arizona transplants living in Turkey, it was too good to resist. We went there twice actually. The chimichangas were good, the guacamole appetizer was amazing, and the BBQ ribs--a little slice of American Tex-Mex heaven. Actually an enormous slice. I think I gained three pounds in that sitting.

Bastei Bridge. In Saxony, the region of Germany bordering Poland and the Czech Republic, there is a fantastic bridge to what was once a mighty castle. It's hard to describe, but on our particular visit, the weather was pretty bad. It was totally foggy so we could just make out the whimsical rock formations jutting up from the valley floor. Not unlike Utah or Cappadocia, the strange formations added an air of mystery, especially when coupled with the fog. We enjoyed touring the former castle, treading carefully on parapets suspended in the mist. We looked out over the river Elbe, we imagined riding horses up the steep hill to the imposing castle. Despite the weather, it was cool.

Dresden city center. I mean, you will be hard pressed to see more beautiful buildings in one place. The rebuilt and renovated structures in Dresden are stunning. I actually enjoyed strolling aimlessly, which isn't something I'm good at.

Drinking hot white spiced wine outside at a cheery winter market. Add an outdoor fireplace and my husband, and I've got a winning combination.

So basically: family, pork, alcohol, bad weather. Did I mention that basically it wasn't sunny at all while we were in Germany? Not once? Yeah. That happened. Grey holiday. That was the trip in a nutshell. It was awesome, but I'm ready to get back to my routine in Talas. My body also is ready for a little break in the intense food and drink action. Bring on the Turkish tea and whole wheat bread, please.

By the way, I want to add that coming "home" to Turkey was surreal. Every day that I spend in Turkey makes this the longest I've ever been out of the US. My home is in Turkey now, which is totally weird. It feels good to be back, and I'm looking forward to what's in store for us in the coming semester.

Dişçi

I've survived my first, and maybe only, Turkish dentist appointment. I was worried about a spot on one tooth, so I figured I better have it looked at.

I thought it would be good for Alan to have a check up too, and our Polish friend also wanted to go. Three's company when you're going to the dentist.

We took the bus downtown, walked past the awesome castle, and turned down a crowded shopping street. Three floors up, nestled inconspicuously above several opticians, orpir dentist and her staff warmly greeted us. 

I had chosen this dentist because she came highly recommended to me by an older colleague who has probably had a lot of dental work done. He is also American, and said she spoke English. Let's just say that I still think one of those things is true...

Anyway, between our Turkish and their English, we got settled in. I was propped up in an exam chair, and I opened my mouth for the exam. I've never heard "masallah" so many times without a baby present. Masallah is an Islamic expression that I think translates to "Wow! How beautiful. God protect you!" My teeth were "çok güzel", very beautiful, and I had no cavities. Alan and our colleague were not so fortunate. Alan was anesthesia-ing almost immediately so they could fill a cavity, and our colleague was downstairs for x-rays just as fast. 

Anyway, I still requested a cleaning. Let me just say that I'm pretty good at the dentist, especially considering how squeamish I am at the doctor, but this experience was miserable. I've never felt a cleaning like that before. My tooth nerves were getting overly stimulated by the knife machine they were using to break up the tartar deposits I always get. She asked whether I wanted anesthetic, and I declined, despite the discomfort, hoping that my pain receptors would tell me if the cleaning was doing more harm than good. I could also see the syringe sitting in a bottle of unmarked liquid, and though I could assume it was anesthetic, I wasn't quite ready for the leap. Between our lack of language proficiency, the dentist and I established that the sign for pain was for me to raise my left hand. I can't say that I was necessarily in pain, but I was certainly uncomfortable, especially when she cleaned my lower front teeth. I thought my dental nerves were going to scream. It was like the worst tickle sensation imaginable. When she finished, she handed me a mirror. I don't know whether American dentists rinse your teeth befor handing you the mirror, but when I looked, the gums between each tooth were bleeding and my teeth were smeared with blood and saliva. It looked pretty horrific. After I rinsed it was definitely looking better, but still feeling sore. And still bleeding.

The last part of our appointment was a 25 minute educational lesson on toothbrushing. The dentist showed us some high quality brushes, asked about ours, which I coincidently had in my purse, and proceeded to show my the faults of our brushes by touching the bristles. That was unexpected. My American dentist would have probably disagreed with some of her advice, but it was pretty funny to watch her brush Alan's teeth using her special technique (it made his gums bleed a little too). Alan got a free specialty toothbrush out of the deal, a nice touch. 

A couple hundred Lyra later and we were finally finished. We stopped by the big grocery store for alcohol--necessary to wash down such an experience--an also to buy me a new toothbrush as mine had been somewhat defiled...

Anyway, if I can avoid the Turkish dentist from here out, I might. I'm not down with discomfort and blood during a cleaning.

Yanbancı Paradise

My post today is short and sweet. And very...Turkey?

At the big grocery store downtown, you can never be sure what kind of music you'll hear as you browse imported toothpastes, bulk snacks, and Kayseri's finest booze selection (yes, it's yanbancı (foreigner) paradise).

Today, the store's radio mix served up Coolio's 1995 hit, "Ganster's Paradise."

As I walk through the valley of the shadow of death
I take a look at my life
And realize there's nothin' left.
For those unfamiliar, it's a serious rap song about the trials of living the gangster lifestyle. Although it won a grammy 20 years ago, it only smacked of double-irony today. Like a Turk wearing a tacky Christmas sweater all winter. A strangely awesome reappropriation, I guess. The Turks were unmoved by the dark lyrics and connotations the 90's flick "Dangerous Minds."

And my homies is down so don't arouse my anger, fool
Death ain't nothing but a heartbeat away,
I'm living life, do or die, what can I say
I'm 23 now, but will I live to see 24
The way things are going I don't know

Thank you Coolio for making my day a little more interesting, and for reminding me that life is too short not to pick up that bottle of wine.

Quarter 2 Success

Two quarters complete. One semester down. Half way through my first year teaching in Turkey.

My tumultuous first quarter prepared me for many of the challenges in this teaching context, including student motivation, last-minute changes, and difficult classroom management. However, the second quarter provided me a reprieve from the struggles of the first. I taught the top two sections of a CEFR B1 level listening and speaking class, using a textbook designed for English for Academic Purposes--my specialty. I also taught a mid-range section of CEFR A2, which kept me grounded in what the majority of teachers here trudge through on a daily basis.

Our classes work like this: based on proficiency and achievement test scores, students are sorted out first into A1, A2, B1, B2 levels. Then, within those levels, they are further divided into sections. The first quarter, we had 31 sections of A1 and handful of the others. The second quarter, 27 sections of A2. Our students basically progress en mass through the four levels. Each quarter, though, some teachers are assigned to teach in the other levels. I considered myself lucky to be one of the few teaching B1 students--they were absolutely awesome. My A2 section was fun in its own way, too. We managed to push through some very difficult material in A2, and I'm really proud of my students for picking up as much as they did. We had a lot of inside jokes in that class--"çay accidents" for spilled tea; "BRReak, BRReak, BRReak" for the end of a lesson. It was fun.

While I can chalk up a lot of the success I enjoyed in the second quarter to awesome students and different classroom dynamics (every teacher can relate to the seemingly random nature of groups of students who are productive together, and groups who are...not); I can also congratulate myself on personal growth as a teacher.

I handed out a syllabus on the first day of class with my expectations about classroom behavior, homework, and where empty tea cups belong (this is Turkey, after all). I was consistent with my "lights off means silence" policy all quarter, and it worked much better this time.

I did my best not to take students' behavior personally. I often reminded myself that these  are 18-year-olds who are experimenting with adulthood, meeting new friends, and experiencing university life for the first time. They want attention from each other. They want to be social. They don't care about relative clauses. I thought a lot about something a very zen colleague once said. "When I see students not paying attention, I think, he isn't ready to learn today." I like how that phrase takes the burden off of me. I focused on students who were ready, and did my best to get the others on board when I could.

One of my favorite experiments this quarter was using Facebook groups with students. Each class had a group where we could post and share things. I assigned students to make videos of themselves speaking English, write paragraphs, answer questions, and watch YouTube videos using Facebook. It was way better than I expected. Some students really took to it. Some were nonplussed, but that's normal. The students who liked it really seemed to enjoy posting and commenting on their friends' posts. Many students took advantage of the chat function to ask me questions, or wish me well on the weekends. While sometimes I wanted to escape from the messages, they were almost always important things or messages that made me feel good as a human being. Sometimes that doesn't happen enough to teachers.

Of course some students dug through my Facebook with a fine-toothed comb, finding some pictures that I might not choose to show them otherwise. You can imagine the horrifying moment shared by me and a student when a third student blurted out "Jena! Can I ask you about a picture Mahir sent to me? I didn't know you were like that!"  Oh no. What did I forget to delete? By the way, Sent to me??Yes, they've been texting my FB profile pictures to each other. Oh boy. I'm not sure who was more embarrassed, me or the sender, but we actually talked about the picture, featuring a friend and me decked out in gothic Halloween make-up from 2007, and I think we all felt much less awkward after that. Even empirical studies suggest that sharing Facebook inherently makes teachers a little more open with student, and this is part of building a trusting community. See Mazer, Murphy, and Simonds (2007). Of course, the natural consequence is built in--students know more about you, and in this digital world, there can be an awful lot to know.

Did I delete that picture after school? Yes I did. I thought I had eliminated most traces of my undergraduate life from Facebook, but I guess I missed that one.

So, I'm leaving the second quarter on a high note, full of momentum. There's a pretty good chance that I will be slowed by the one month break from teaching, and that my next teaching schedule won't be so awesome, but I can take comfort in my newfound confidence and my expanding knowledge of this student population.

The box I didn't get

Sometime in early October, my mom put a box in the mail to Turkey.

Sometime in early November, the box arrived in Kayseri. Someone at the post office opened the box to do the usual check of international mail. They found some Imodium--diarrhea medicine--in the original packaging.

This person, following procedure, filled in the blanks on the customary letter explaining in Turkish why the package could not be delivered. "This medicine is a controlled substance and requires a doctor's prescription." This letter doesn't include the recipient's name or address. The letter was folded and tucked into a brown waxy envelop. A label with the recipient's address and the parcel's tracking number was carefully placed on the letter.

The letter was delivered to the correct apartment building, but as there was no recipient's name on the label, nor on the inner letter, the waxy brown envelop was filed into a box by the security guard.

The letter sat in the box, undisturbed for nearly a month. The US Postal Service tracking eventually told my mom that the box hadn't been delivered due to a missed delivery, so I went down to the security desk to ask. In Turkish. Yeah.

No package at the desk.

But, are you sure?

Yes. Then the security guard helped me call the shipping company. Ah yes! They knew the package.

Did the box have medicine in it?

Yes probably! I said.

The waxy brown envelop surfaced from the depths of the box.

I needed a prescription for the Imodium, or I could chuck the medicine and collect the rest at the office downtown.

I asked a coworker for help. She kindly took me to a doctor first, to try and score a prescription. This is Turkey, I thought. A fake-ish prescription outta be about the easiest thing to get, considering that Xanax is sold over the counter here.

Turns out we went to an awesome and ethical doctor who was very hesitant to write the prescription for an ailment I didn't have, for a medicine that they have in Turkish pharmacies. When you have infectious diarrhea, we cautioned, you shouldn't take this medicine. You should, let the bacteria come out of your body. Or you will die.

After a few minutes more of our most dignified pleading, the doctor compromised his ethics and wrote the prescription, but on the condition that I would visit his office if I have diarrhea so that he can consult me about whether to take the medicine.

We took the prescription and made the longish drive to the downtown Kargo office. We were taken to a back room, where I expected to see a beat up box from the US. Instead of a box, I saw a man sitting between two desks. He took out a seriously old school ledger. Not just any ledger, but a giant book of package information. I imagine that they've been using that book since the 1970s. He found my number in the book.

Punchline: the box had been sitting there for a month or more, but was shipped back to the US in the past week. Out of Turkey, out of reach. The worker had a number of legitimate excuses which were almost nullified by the awesome excuse that he didn't know that my name wasn't on the label. Apparently he thought my last name was "Rezidans"--the Turkish word for residence--a type of apartment. Nice try.

No box.

Somehow I didn't cry, despite my extreme disappointment. Oh Turkey.

Shopping-spree dream

Just for fun, I think I'll make a list of what I would buy if I had an hour at Target (US big box store, just a step up from Wal-Mart).

--Target-- Are the angels signing yet?

• Rosarita refried beans. I'll take three cases, please.
• Shredded cheddar cheese, a few of the monster-sized bags I used to buy in Flagstaff.
• Tortillas. They have them here, but if I'm at Target, why not?
• Avocados.
• SALSA. Another three-case purchase. Target sells a pretty good tomatillo salsa. I'd probably get that.
• Tapatio and Sriracha. Maybe a case of each. Hot sauce is also expensive and hard to come by here.
• Tortilla chips. OMG. Maybe a pallet of these. They are my favorite. Doritos are everywhere here, but I just want some plain tortilla chips to make nachos... (I might cry now).
• Coffee beans and a french press. I can get these here, but while at Target, I'll get American-sized, and American-priced stuff.
• Food processor.
• Several brownie and cake mixes.
• Soy sauce (3 gallons)
• Ice cream maker. Our friends have one and it is AMAZING.
• American beef. Turkish cows eat different stuff. 
• The entire spice rack and baking supply area would be tempting. I'll prioritize ingredients for a dozen pumpkin pies (don't forget whipped cream from a spray can).
• Unscented lotion and face soap. Turkey loves perfumed toiletries. My skin doesn't.
• American make up. You can buy it here, but it's expensive and doesn't always look...unused.
• Sunscreen, lots, also unscented, strong SPF. It's expensive here.
• Unscented laundry detergent. 
• Natural cleaning spray (Method brand).
• Ziplock bags with real zippers. Gallon, quart, and snack size.
• Tampons. Sorry TMI (too much information) but darn are those things hard to find and expensive here.
• WINE WINE WINE. Without sounding too dependent, I would stock up. I mean, cases. There is really only one place with a decent selection in this town, and it's a pain in the you-know-what to get there and back from our apartment by bus carrying bags.
• PBR Beer. A pallet. For my Alan. :) and a case of limeade to make "alien blood."
• Pepper jack cheese. Gouda. YUM.
• Supplies for green bean casserole. Maybe a case of each ingredient.
• While I'm there, let's get some new socks and underwear. Always a good idea.
• Snow boots. Waterproof. Size women's HUGE. It doesn't exist here, and I'm a little embarrassed to go to the men's stores.
• Pepto-bismol, Tylenol, Advil, Claritin (you know I'll need these if I'm consuming cases of spicy food and wine).
• Emergen-C packets.  A case, please.
• Multivitamins. Big supply.
• Games: Apples to Apples, Twister, Taboo, CatchPhrase, Jenga.

Okay, that was fun. My mouth is watering. I miss capitalism, my car, Target...

Well, I'm planning to be in "the States" in August 2015, so maybe I can pick up some of these things when I'm there. Target, if you're reading this, please open a location in Talas. I will be your best customer!

And yes, if there were a Starbucks inside the Target, I would have a soy latte. Thank you for asking. Corporation inside corporation. Gotta love the USA.

Christmas and a Milestone.

Christmas Day in Talas, Turkey. It's sort of like swinging through parallel universes because I know it's Christmas, but there are so few external indications that it's easy to forget. Our office Christmas party created a festive vibe for about 25 minutes, which was great. There aren't Christmas lights or trees, nativity scenes, or presents from Santa. It's just another day.

International instructors were offered the day off, so Alan, some coworkers, and I spent the day on Erciyes mountain, breakfasting and sledding down the snow-packed slopes. Definitely not my usual Christmas.

I'm battling homesickness this week as I see photos from home of familiar events and food. I'm also passing an important milestone in my journeys abroad.

In the past, I've lasted about six months. A semester in Austria, a semester plus some in Cambodia (and Japan).

I'm passing the six month mark here in Turkey, and I'm in for at least another 8. Being here on a contract for work, and being here with my husband has made a huge difference in my "staying power." Traditional study abroad wisdom suggests a U shaped experience that begins high, with the excitement of a new place, goes low with frustration and language barrier, and then climbs again one your start to figure things out.

In the past, I've bailed or at least ended at the bottom, when culture shock hit it's peak.

This time, I feel like I've survived the some of the very low points (for example, locking myself in a bathroom stall at work to cry it all out--good indication of a low point), and come out the other side more prepared to deal with life in Turkey.

My Turkish is getting better. Even though it's still barely there, it's exponentially better than it was three months ago. I feel a huge sense of achievement when small encounters are successful in Turkish. For example, today I helped my American friends order food and sort out a ticket situation. Knowing a little of the language really soothes some parts of culture shock for me. I guess it really comes down to autonomy and feeling like a competent adult, rather than a helpless baby every time someone speaks to you.

So, here's to one foreign Christmas and six months in Turkey down; and to a vibrant 2015 full of the upside of the "U".

You might be an American in Turkey if...

You might be an American in Turkey if... (Thanks Alan, for your help writing this)

Speaking and language:

• you've nearly finished two beginning Turkish classes, but you still can't ask "Can you call the water company for me?" You can, however, question the existence of everything in the room and ask profoundly self-reflective questions like, "am I not ironing?"
• your latest learned grammar point literally translates to "before you don't leave the house, drink a tea"...a bit of a mind-bender.
• when you assign homework, "oofya"(exasperated sigh meaning "you have to be kidding me") and "enshallah" (God willing) are the most common responses.
• you tell  a student "I hope it's easy for you" which is an interpretation of the ubiquitous Turkish "Kolay gelsin" (meaning "may it come easily to you")
• instead of "isn't it?", your go-to tag question is "dimi?", the Turkish equivalent. 
• you've started including Turkish misuses of English words into your own lexis: "I'm too excited" (I'm really nervous), "Can you control it?" (Can you check my work?)
• your textbook teaches British English, despite the fact that only 1 of 50 of the teachers in your school is from England. 
• you subsequently find yourself saying "at the weekend" and "I'm keen on that" in your daily conversations

Call to prayer:

• students'  presentations are sometimes drowned out by the school mosque's call to prayer.
• you plan your lessons around the call to prayer, especially if you want to include video or music. It's disrespectful to play music during the call to prayer. 
• you probably learned the hard way about the disrespectful thing.
• different singers have different styles--you have picked out a favorite and look forward to his calls.

Tea

• in your syllabus, you included a rule about cleaning up tea cups after class.
• people produce sugar cubes from their pockets (lint and all) to sweeten your brew.
• there's an entire section of every supermarket and mini market completely devoted to tea.
• students bring you tea, whether you asked for it or not.
• tea is often served from two containers, one is atomic-strength brewed tea and the other is hot water. You decide your strength: weak, medium, strong, or brand-new-foreigner (mistakenly all atomic strength...you won't forget that cup)
• you've made the brand-new-foreigner mistake more than once.

Lunch

• your yearly consumption of eggplant  and tomato has increased by 2000%.
• you've seen a few two many chicken drumsticks melting into a bowl of watery broth.
• your salad, and really, all of your food, is swimming in yogurt.
• you avoid any soup or dish with mushrooms (2 for 2 with food poisoning here)

Coffee

• your 6 lira Turkish coffee is two tablespoons of drinkable liquid and the rest is tongue-exfoliating coffee grounds
• your coffee takes 15 minutes to prepare and creates 5 dishes to wash: cup, saucer, water glass, cezve, and spoon
• a latte at Starbucks is like the BEST treat ever.

Grocery store

• there are only three types of cereal in the grocery store: cocoa puffs, musli, and cornflakes.
• students all say they eat "cheese" for breakfast--sometimes nothing else--language proficiency or simple diet--not sure which. 
• there are 15 different kinds of cheeses in the diary section, but none are shredded, and none are mozzarella.

Paper Marbling, Mystery Sleigh, and Me

Nothing says "It's the holiday (Christmas) season" like learning a traditional paper marbling technique in a Muslim country.

I miss American Christmas stuff. As tacky as a lot of it is--read: George Michael's "Last Christmas" or cheap, fake greenery--it's a deeply embedded part of my Americanness. This year though, I'm experiencing a non-Christmas-celebrating culture.

"Happy New Year" -- See what I mean?

Well, kind of. Turkey doesn't want to commit to Christmas, especially here in Kayseri. Too Christian, I suppose. I understand and respect that. This is a Muslim country. In America, we don't do much for Ramadan or any Eid holiday. However, here in Kayseri, there is a strange mix of not wanting Christmas, and wanting just a little.

New Year's decorations often include a mysterious sleigh led by deer hovering in the background. Strings of tiny lights wrap pillars at the mall. Surprisingly, the bigger grocery stores stock a very modest collection of Christmas decorations. On our budget, I limited myself to a string of multi-colored lights and box of six assorted ornaments. Just a hint of Christmas this year.

Ok, so there I was, last weekend, the first week of December, missing my holiday season. Our Turkish teacher (also my colleague at school, and friend who plays volleyball) organized a trip downtown to a historic building where we could learn Ebru, the art of paper marbling.

Hunat Hatun Medresesi

The building itself is worth a description here. As I understood, it was a school used in Ottoman times. It's connected to a big Mosque, and also to a historic tomb, though I don't know much about either of those things. The old, stone building we visited was laid out around an open-air courtyard where Kayserians meet up for tea and chatting. A dozen tiny rooms border the courtyard, each with a tiny door. The small doors force those who enter to lower their heads (or whole torso in my case), which is a symbol of humility and respect for the teacher inside. The rooms, which are no bigger than the kitchen of most American homes built in the 1970s, are filled with art, carpets, instruments, or books. Our room was dedicated to Ebru.

The Ebru Master and me

The Ebru master in our room demonstrated how to use oil, water, paint and a special chemical to create a marbled masterpiece. A clear plexiglass tray is lit from underneath, and filled with water to allow the painter to drop bits of color onto the surface of the water.This technique has traditionally been used to make decorative covers for the Koran. He worked quickly and with the grace as he dipped the tools into paint, and then lightly touched the water's surface, causing a ripple of color to surge forth. From three green circles, suddenly an elegant tulip emerged as he pulled the colors around on the water's surface. For me, watching the colors was almost hyponotic. I have always been an artist at heart. Once satisfied with the design, the artist placed a paper onto the water's surface and then carefully lifted it back out, revealing the same beautiful design transfered to a paper. We helped him set it on the drying rack hanging just inches above our heads.

Trying my hand at Ebru

The master let me try my hand at Ebru. Using a pigeon language between English and Turkish, I decided to try to make a cactus. It was fun dipping into the paint and touching the water, though having an audience and being in the smallest possible space made me both light-headed and shakey. I made dots and curves, and pulled the colors around on the surface. At some point, the master gave up on my cactus idea and gave me instructions for making a traditional tulip. The resulting painting has a beautiful red tulip atop a clumsy cactus-stem. He also didn't let me choose not to add two red hearts to the background. When learning someone's art, it's best to follow directions, right? So my painting turned out looking a little weird, but I thoroughly enjoyed the experience. I'd love to try again with more autonomy, and fewer people in a small room.

Overall, life in Turkey is becoming richer every day. Developing friendships piece by piece, riding the ups and downs of teaching, learning more Turkish, trying more cultural things--this is the process of having a life here.

Me, Justyna (awesome Polish friend), and Alan

Saturday Adventure Mix

My latest adventure in Turkey involved honeycomb, acting, a mini propane tank, 40 coats, Arby's sauce and a cinema intermission.

I think I may have just ruined any hope of punch-lines in the following recount of my day's events, but let's see.

My days started at 9:00 AM when I woke up from a deep, though short sleep. We had friends over for the first time last night, and it was a lot of fun, but we stayed up a lot later than usual. We had to wake up at a reasonable time though, in order to make it to our Turkish breakfast on time. Our Turkish teacher had arranged a breakfast and cultural event for us. The breakfast was held in the staff dining room on campus, the same place where we eat lunch every day. I think I've raved about Turkish breakfast before, and this one did not disappoint. The Turkish breakfast involves about 100 small plates of the following: black and green olives, assorted cheeses, honeycomb and clotted cream (superb combo on bread), bread, pancake-like bread, savory pastries, pepper and onion omlette, spicy sausage, tomatoes, cucumbers, and of course--tea. The plates of these things are dispersed around the table so that everyone is within arm's reach of everything. It's all delicious and incredibly filling. During the breakfast, our teacher and some of our Turkish colleagues (who were invited to spur more Turkish conversation in the group) helped us with vocabulary and were very patient with our halting sentences.

After breakfast, we all went to our school building for a presentation about the process of asking a woman's hand in marriage. Our teacher, Fatma, explained how the families get together for an evening and exchange small talk and ceremonial blessings on the couple. The process includes a coffee and chocolates service, done by the bride-to-be. Turkish tradition holds that the bride-to-be should replace sugar with salt in the groom's cup, and then the whole party watches as he tries not to wince while drinking. His drinking of the disgusting brew symbolizes his commitment to his wife through thick and thin, and when directly translated, "drinking poison from her hands." We then practiced cooking turkish coffee over a mini propane tank. I volunteered to make coffee for the 15 people in attendance, because I kind of know my way around a "cezve" (turkish coffee brewer), but I can say that making 1 or 2 cups at home is a lot different from trying to time the preparation of 15. M attempt was mostly successful though, and we all enjoyed small cups of coffee together. Once we were  re-caffienated, we tried to act out the Turkish family gathering. Alan and I were the prospective bride and groom, so we had important roles in the action. However, as tradition dictates, two of our male classmates playing the father characters had the most lines in our little play. The show was pretty hilarious, as we hadn't practiced. In the end, our "fathers" consented to our marriage, so all was well.

After the events at school, several of us decided to go downtown to the major shopping center, Kayseri Forum. We stood in the cold, sleeting weather at the bus stop for no less than 50 minutes watching as the hour's only bus--packed full--cruised by us without even stopping. Then we gave in and called a taxi.

Safely at Forum, the hotspot of activity in Kayseri, Alan and I set off on a mission to find me a winter-weather coat. I started in a department store with a wide selection of coats. Every clerk greeted me, but only one was brave enough to deal with the foreigner. The small man bravely perservered, handing me coat after coat to try. I (and sometimes Alan) managed to reject around 40 coats in that store, on the basis of fit, color, boringness, matronlyness, sleeve length, and tacky buckles. As the Turks say, "Ooof ya." What a let down. We headed back out into the mall, and I suggested that we visit a store where the clothes are generally a little less expensive, but where there are copious choices. After nearly giving up, I spotted a cute navy-purple pea coat hybrid lined with white fleece. I tried it on, and angels sang. I swear. Or at least I was too exhausted to try on more. I picked out a tartan plaid warm scarf and headed to the register.

Alan's compromise for shopping with me was that we see the new Hunger Games movie in Forum's cinema. Before watching, we stopped at Arby's (yeah, they exist in Turkey) for some Chipotle Sandviçler and curly fries. They really need to import Arby's sauce to Turkish Arby's--that's all I have to say about that.

The movie was a fun change of pace, though I can't say it was my favorite of the Hunger Games series. One interesting part of the Turkish cinema is the 10-minute intermission mid film. A chance to empty your bladder, get another popcorn (yes, they have it), or--the most likely--take a smoke break. What a quirk. I love it. Someone else in the audience recogninzed us form school and boldly introduced himself. It was a little weird, but kind of made me feel like a celebrity.

As usual, our last stop at Forum was to the big grocery store with the wine aisle. I stocked up--four bottles--because my favorite wine was on sale. YES!

So, that was my big day. I'm tired. I've got a glass of wine. Life is good.

One Quarter Down or A Teaching Philosophy in Question.

Günaydın (Turkish for "good morning"). It's Saturday morning here in Talas, Turkey. Somehow, my husband motivated himself to join a hiking group at 6:30 this morning to tackle the local mountain. Three hours later, I peeled myself out of bed thanks to a friend's blog post about how women reach their athletic peak around 30. As a 27-year-old who was looking for a reason not to exercise this morning, I felt compelled to get up and do at least one video from my new favorite indoor exercise, Blogilates. The coal-burning around this city is intense, and the subsequent smog doesn't motivate me to go outside to huff and puff in it. Seriously, the air is brown-ish grey.

Ok, so the mild soreness in my midsection feels like a mediocre physical accomplishment, but I am saving some energy for a walk to and from the grocery store and a party later.

What I really wanted to write about this morning was a reflection on my first quarter of teaching English in Turkey and how the reality does and doesn't match up with my training.

First of all, classroom management was my most unexpected challenge. I remember wondering why one professor spent so much time on in in our practicum class. Now I know. Wrangling a bunch of 18-year-olds who share a common first language, and who are experiencing the freedom of university for the first time---is sort of like trying to get your pet cat into a carrier to go to the vet. First they avoid you, then they cling to the carrier door with all their might so you can't force them in. Finally, when they are inside with the door closed, they yowl and howl and look at you with pathetic eyes.

My groups of students last quarter were energetic and chatty, which is normally a good thing in the language classroom. However, when the chattiness continues while I'm giving directions or after I have turned off the lights to signal that it's time to finish the activity, I get a little frustrated. Pile this on day after day, even after seating arrangements, warnings, and every technique I could think of, and the result is a major breakdown in the middle of a meeting with my colleagues. I'm not sure I've ever cried at work before, especially not out of frustration, and I hope that it never happens again. My colleagues tried to warn me about the students, but I thought they were just being pessimistic. Nope. Turns out that the students can be downright disrespectful and seemingly impossible to teach.

I was a very good student in my master's degree, so I know I paid attention during the classroom management discussions, but in a program focused on current research on language acquisition, some of these daily teacher things didn't surface as among the most critical information. A former yoga teacher once advised me that teachers are never fully prepared, you just have to get in front of the class and deal with it. I think this advice holds for me. In every new context, you can never be prepared for the students or the curriculum. It's a matter of getting in the classroom and dealing with what happens.

On the flip side, let me tell you about the last day of teaching one class that I had particular trouble with. For the last hour, I had planned a review game. however, when I came to the classroom, more than half of the students were gone, and the only people left were the sweetest female students who had shown me respect all semester. They bought coffee and cake for everyone and we sat in the classroom together, as human beings, discussing Turkey and my experiences so far. It was an incredible moment for me as a worn-down teacher---who at times during the first quarter questioned my ability and desire to be an educator---to once again feel the human connection that I love about teaching. My students used English (and I used a little Turkish) to talk and laugh about our differences and our similarities. Make-up and the head scarf were fun conversation, and we took a handful of selfies together. At some point, I realized that they were using vocabulary that we had learned in class, and I was beaming with pride. The language teacher's dream is to have students apply what they learn in a boring textbook to a context that they really care about.

C11 selfie--about half the class isn't pictured here.

Coffee and cake with the ladies of C10

Ladies of C10

Many of my Turkish colleagues, and I'm sure many of my colleagues in general, avoid getting to know students. Instead, they maintain emotional distance and focus on the material. Their classrooms are what I imagine the military to be. Completely dominated by the teacher, orderly, and fear-driven. I'm painting a grim picture, but I know that traditional teaching follows this pattern. The teacher is the ultimate authority, and students never question it. This is also a leadership style that was common in the past, and remains in many parts of the world today.

My teaching style, though, doesn't run on fear. It runs on respect and genuine interest in student success. For better or worse, I make every effort to treat my students with respect as autonomous adults (I can hear some colleagues saying, "that's your first mistake") who deserve the best lesson I can give because they will go on to use English in their majors or in their careers.

For most of my, albeit short, teaching career, I have generally had success with this approach. I think students appreciate my approachability and my interest in their success outside of my classroom. However, the first quarter of teaching here basically took most of my teaching philosophy, ripped it in half and buried it in my bottom desk drawer under waded up tissues of my snot and tears. "Prepare them for the test, check their homework, threaten them with visits to the administration, and get the heck out of there" became my survival mantra.

***
On Monday, I will have three new classes. One general pre-intermediate class, and two sections of intermediate listening and speaking. I am really excited for the listening and speaking classes because they are students came into the program with higher proficiency (usually accompanied by better work ethic, in this context, anyway). The pre-intermediates will take more patience from me, as they are the graduates of the classes I taught last quarter. They are finding their way through a year of manditory English en route to their private university classes in Engineering or law (only some students will take university classes in English. Others will study in Turkish). Enshallah (God willing, or "hopefully") my students will respond more to my efforts to create an atmosphere of mutual respect. I'd like to pull my tattered teaching philosophy back out, dust it off and continue the success I've enjoyed in other contexts.


***
Alan is back from his hike and he is working on breakfast. I see him cutting up a pide (delicious flat bread), and I hope there will be some eggs with it. Maybe it will be Turkish style, with olives and tomatoes on the side. Until next time, Güle güle! (that's a Turkish send-off meaning go with a laugh).

Cappadocia with friends

There's nothing that a night out with friends, some fresh air, and a hotel room carved out of a cave can't fix.

And my, between work and culture shock, have I needed some fixing lately!

With our day and a half off of work (Turkish Republic Day), Alan, me, and three other couples went to Cappadocia for a little getaway. It was exactly what I needed, and I think exactly what we all needed.

We drank tea and wine, ate a nice meal, tried Rakı (Anise flavored Turkish liquor) and laughed until we cried.

We drove cars through the back roads of Cappadocia, climbed around fascinating ruins, took photos, and became suuuuper hungry. We found food.

We enjoyed being in Turkey. We forgot many of our worries, and laughed about the ones we couldn't forget.

I'll go back to work tomorrow a little bit tired from the trip, but I will mentally refreshed from our mid-week holiday.

View from Cave Hotel Room

Beautiful carpet market

These aren't just any caves. This was part of the cathedral.

Some of the fairy chimneys

I love the landscape out here.

Sunday Morning Reflections

First, may I suggest that you check out this beautiful video of Turkey: video link here

It's Sunday morning here in Talas.

I haven't taken my usual dive into the electronic version of The New York Times (Thank you, Chris!) yet, but instead I've opened up my blog.

Unlike the entries I wrote from Cambodia in which I tried to capture each excruciating drop of sweat, I find my entries from Turkey deserve a more even keel. Living and working in Talas at a university where my expertise is desired and rewarded, I feel valuable. Being married to Alan, a coworker, confident, and most-trusted friend, is wonderful. We have learned so much about each other since May 31st. Moving to Turkey together has highlighted our strengths and weaknesses as a couple and forced us to work on them.

Speaking of strengths and weaknesses, last week, Alan and I needed to pay our internet bill. When we arrived at the shop, Alan realized that he had left the slip of paper with our account number at home. As we had walked 20 minutes to get to the shop, we decided to try anyway. Between my vocabulary and Alan's grammar, our Turkish sometimes gets us through. The next twenty minutes were a struggle for all involved. First, they thought we wanted to set up new internet, but of course we didn't catch that, so after struggling to say our address and translate some terms of the contract...I realized that we weren't on the same page. Next, the employee and I had an exchange that, translated, probably went like this, but with more grammatical inaccuracy on my part.

Jena: Ma'am. But, now internet.

Employee: Right now, do you have internet?

Jena: Yes. At home. We want to buy. I mean not buy! At home. Now.

Employee: Do you have the account number?

Jena: Unfortunately. At home.

Employee: ....

Jena: Passport?

Employee: Ok. Yes. Let's try to find your account via your passport.

Employee: Here it is. I am writing the account number. DO NOT lose it this time.

Jena: Yes. Ok.

Employee: That'll be 66 lira.

So, from this encounter, I learned that I didn't know the verb for "to pay", nor the word for "account." On the way home, a random turkish guy shouted "Good Evening!" and then told us how he wasn't selling anything, he just wanted to practice English. We took his number, written on Alan's hand, and bid him adieu, wishing he had been a few blocks back to help us at the internet store.

To shift topics, one aspect of Flagstaff that I loved and hated was that anywhere I went I was bound to run into a colleague, student, or former student. Even after just a few weeks in Talas, I have a huge network of people, and I now see colleagues and students everywhere. In the grocery store, on the bus, at the mall. I can't get away! But it's nice to know people--helps me feel more integrated.

Oh, and to share an incredible "small world" story, one of my Turkish colleagues spent part of her childhood in the US. Guess where? Culler middle school, Lincoln, Nebraska. I mean seriously! I didn't go to Culler (Mickle Missles, all the way!), but I've been inside that building. Out of all the cities in the US and in Turkey, she and I have our childhood home and an adult home in common. It's pretty incredible, if you ask me. She even said "Go Huskers!" --a true taste of home.

On the work front, I will say that no MA program can prepare teachers for life in the real world. Every program has stakeholders pulling in all directions, and every program has unique challenges and demands in curricula, technology, and assessment. The best MA programs prepare teachers to adapt to the circumstances and apply their knowledge however they can given the particular constraints. Okay, enough rambling. Basically, I feel like the teaching context I'm in currently really pushes me to develop as a teacher. However, the benefit of having studied theory and research for two years is that I feel comfortable presenting a professional development workshops and discussing research articles with colleagues, which happened to be two opportunities last week. In fact, I will say that one of the best final exams I was ever given was to create a powerpoint presentation and handout for a hypothetical professional development workshop. Thank you Dr. Stoller! Much love from Turkey! This kind of assignment required us to pull together our knowledge in a meaningful and practical way that we could actually use in the future! Alan, another American colleague, and I each presented a few ideas for teaching vocabulary. Our colleagues have responded well, reporting back that our suggestions have been fun and useful in the classroom. Later in the week, a few colleagues gathered to discuss a journal article from TESOL Quarterly. It felt great to sink my teeth into some academic work and have a meaningful discussion about the implications of the article in our context here in Talas. To sum up, the two years of intense MA study prepared me well (though the adaptation is up to me!).

Now to a topic more behind the scenes (sorry for my randomness this morning). ISIS, ISIL, or IS. If you live in America, I'm sure that you are bombarded with news about the self-proclaimed Islamic State group in Iraq and Syria. The most recent stories are coming from Kobane, a Syrian town on the Turkish border. This town is on the verge of falling to ISIS, and in the process, stirring up huge international debate among myriad stakeholders. The US embassy in Ankara sends me frequent messages about how the situation is affecting Turkey. Recently, clashes between Kurdish and Turkish forces have resulted in injuries and death in various cities around Turkey. Sites of demonstrations are considered the biggest danger to foreigners, so the embassy simply advises us to avoid large gatherings of people and stay informed about local events. In addition, there are travel restrictions on Southern and Eastern parts of Turkey because of the intensity of the clashes there. For Alan and me, life goes on as usual. Our city is conservative and quiet. Only small protests happen downtown, far away from our sleepy suburb. I opened this post by saying that I haven't dove into the NYT yet, and based on what's happening in neighboring areas, I think you can understand that sometimes the headlines make me fearful, or at the very least, somewhat worried. As of know, there is nothing to worry about in Talas or Kayseri. Staying informed and keeping one's attention on the surroundings are the best protection.

Wow. I don't want to end on that note. Let's see. It's time for my second cup of tea, and maybe time to wake Alan up. We have tentative plans to visit a dog refuge on the outskirts of the city. Our friends have a car, and there are visitation hours. The only problem is falling in love with these animals. Maybe one day (hopefully not too far from now) we will have a dog-friendly place (and of course, also cat-friendly!).