Last night I made my last (hopefully) trip to downtown Kayseri. Alan and I decided to accompany our friend on her errand because we didn't have anything to do.
It was a nice experience for me. Normally riding the bus and dealing with the swarms of shoppers downtown is way too much for me. However, knowing that this was the last time, I was able to see the city with new eyes I enjoyed myself, and even snapped a few photos.
We went to the big mall for some sandwiches in a cafe. After that, we did a a little shopping and then took a short walk downtown. We passed several çiğ köfte places (vegetarian, grain based patties), a handful of Syrian-owned businesses, a few stray cats, and even a golden retriever.
We posed for photos on the pedestrian bridge overlooking the Kayseri's main drag, Sivas Bulavard. The bright lights and busy road against the purple sky were somewhat reminiscent of Las Vegas, though the similarities end there.
The busride back to our apartment was typical: overcrowded, hot, and jerky. I tried to take it in and enjoy it for what it was.
It's so easy to find the flaws in daily life. I was happy to feel a sense of renewal and appreciation yesterday. I've only got 2 days left in Turkey, so I'll try to focus on the good.
July 29, 2015
July 20, 2015
Last road trip in Turkey
I'm nursing a single-serve french press of INDUSTRIAL strength coffee this morning. I never really measure how much coffee I put in, and today I clearly went overboard. However, such caffeination is totally conducive to regaling a beautiful weekend on the Black Sea.
My Turkish friend and former roommate (and co-worker) in Flagstaff is from Zonguldak, a city on the Black Sea, a few hours east of Istanbul. She is one of the coolest people I've ever met, in terms of adaptability, self-confidence, humility, and of course, her bad-ass haircut. She's got thick black curls cut into an asymmetrical short bob that suits her perfectly. I love it and I'm totally jealous. She's got a cool style, and she loves cats and coffee. I mean, what could be more perfect for me? Oh yeah, and she loves to make jewelry and watch American crime drama shows. And eat ice cream. And gossip. And share her breakfast cooking with me. It was perfection when we lived together. She didn't even judge me for my obsession with peanut butter or Usher.
So, my friend invited Alan and I to join her family for Eid (the end of Ramadan celebration) at their new apartment in Bartın, a city just an hour or so from where she grew up. It was a full day's drive from Kayseri, thanks in no small part to the indecipherable mess that is the highway system in the city of Ankara. We wanted to avoid the toll road, and in doing so ended up adding about 3 hours of extra driving to our trip because we were lost in Ankara. I can justify some of the problem by saying that Turkish highways, like US highways are labeled on maps with numbers: D-100, O-20, etc. However, in the city of Ankara, none of the signs have these numbers. Instead, they only have city names and Ankara neighborhood names (which I don't have memorized...). So, it's really not clear where you are going, except that you're going in the general direction of Istanbul, Konya, or Samsun. These places are hundreds of miles away. No signs said Zonguldak. That was a problem for us.
Anyway...
We made it. I even got to use some Turkish to ask for directions. How cool.
Sweaty and exhausted from the haul, we were warmly greeted and immediately served a multi-course dinner alongside two of her friends from the US, a retired French/Russian professor and a former Kyrgyz Peacecorps volunteer. It was the first of many beautiful, enormous meals that we were served.
After dinner, we went to a nearby beach for an evening dip. Let me just say that Turkey has some of the most beautiful beaches I've ever seen. I've added the Black Sea to my most beautiful places list after seeing the clear blue water framed by sheer rock cliff faces, white sand, and lush forest. I mean, wow! The placid water was the perfect antidote to a long day of hot driving.
We finished the night at a tea garden, recalling fond memories of our shared experiences in Flagstaff.
The next morning, a massive Turkish breakfast awaited us. In case you don't know about these breakfasts, let me describe the spread in a list:
Following that breakfast, we piled into a car headed for Safronbolu, a UNESCO World Heritage city, famed for, what else, Saffron. This city's oldest buildings are reminiscent of German Fachwerkhauser, those houses made with wooden beams and stucco-type material. After a few hot minutes under midday heat, we ducked into a mostly covered market where venders were selling handmade jewelry, cloth, and saffron-infused sweets and perfume. It was my favorite market yet because it was relatively quiet and low pressure, not to mention that the products were unique, well-priced, and felt of good quality. I picked up a few things, including a handmade beaded bracelet that I fell in love with.
We ordered refreshments in the oldest cafe in the city, shaded by grapevine-covered trellises. We watched as the barista cooked stone-ground Turkish coffee literally over hot coals. It was pretty cool, and totally deserving of the steep price tag. I could have sat in that place for hours.
After returning from Safronbolu, we went back to the beach for more swimming and sand castle building. There is nothing like a bunch of twenty- and thirty-somethings building a sand castle together.
That night we enjoyed the refreshments we had brought from Kayseri together and had a great time well into the wee morning hours.
The next morning, we loaded up on another Turkish breakfast and then set off for a marathon day: beach, family village visit, and restaurant dinner. It might not sound like much, but for someone like me, any of those things by themselves could constitute one day's activity. Let me give some details:
The beach: a different beach than we had been going to, and even more striking because of the cliff faces, rocky island (perfect for Alan to jump off of) and lack of busy streets nearby.
We swam and sunbathed for several hours and then we faced a few challenges. There was only one changing room for the entire beach, so we waited in line. I ended up changing in the WC (bathroom), and disappointingly, I had to sit my bag on the floor. It was horrible, but at least it was so dimly lit that I could barely see what I was sitting it in. Anyway, unshowered and still sandy, we got back in our cars to head for the village. My friend's father is from a small village several kilometers from this beach.
Not more than a minute into our journey, a major traffic jam halted us. Overflow parking on the narrow, steep dirt roads leading away from the beach had clogged traffic so badly that no one could move. And everyone refused to. Horns were honked, flat-palmed hand gestures were made, things were shouted, the police were even called. It was a mess.
Alan should get an award for best driver ever. Getting to a from that beach required some of the most insane maneuvers I've ever seen a mid-sized sedan do, not to mention one with a jalopy manual transmission.We inched up the hill, with just centimeters to spare on either side thanks to the parked cars. It was crazy, but we made it.
In the village, we met all kinds of family members, including the 95-year-old grandmother who is hard of hearing, but still sharp. Living to 95 in rural Turkey is like living to 150 anywhere else. She's got amazing DNA. We also met several relatives who live in Germany. My German was slow to develop, as much of my language space has been taken up with Turkish now, but between the two languages, it was possible to be understood fairly well.
My friend's father led us on a hike (more aptly described as a fast-paced and difficult trek up a thickly forested hill) to the top of a foothill overlooking where a river meets the Black Sea. It was indeed a great view, though I could hardly see for all the sweat in my eyes.
Following the sweaty hike, we went to the bridge overlooking the same river we had seen flowing into the ocean. A major flood 20 years ago had wiped out the old bridge, most of which had come to rest just in front of the new bridge, blocking trees and other large debris from passing. It looked pretty bad, actually.
After some drawn out Turkish goodbyes to family members, we set off for our dinner date in a small town about an hour away in Amasra.
What a treat that dinner was! We ate these tiny and delicious fried fish and drank the Turkish liquor called Rakı. It was one of the best meals I've had in Turkey. I learned how to pull out the small bones efficiently, and before long I had a huge pile of bones on my plate and my hands were covered in grease, but I loved it!
By the time we finished our yogurt and honey desert, I was really exhausted. We arrived back to her family's home around 1:00 AM and I think we all passed out immediately.
The next morning/afternoon we ate one final Turkish breakfast before loading up the car to come back to Kayseri. We said our goodbyes, and promised to visit each other in our various corners of the world. I hate those goodbyes because you really never know when you'll see that person again. It was hard to leave such a beautiful place to come back to our very polluted city life. It took us about 9 hours to return, thanks once again to the mystery that is Ankara's highway system.
Back at home, Alan and I cracked a few cans of Efes, loaded up the washing machine with our super dirty clothes, and let the weekend soak in. The trip north was a great ending to our time in Turkey. We've got about 10 days left, and I think we will spend most of that time organizing and packing for our next journey.
My Turkish friend and former roommate (and co-worker) in Flagstaff is from Zonguldak, a city on the Black Sea, a few hours east of Istanbul. She is one of the coolest people I've ever met, in terms of adaptability, self-confidence, humility, and of course, her bad-ass haircut. She's got thick black curls cut into an asymmetrical short bob that suits her perfectly. I love it and I'm totally jealous. She's got a cool style, and she loves cats and coffee. I mean, what could be more perfect for me? Oh yeah, and she loves to make jewelry and watch American crime drama shows. And eat ice cream. And gossip. And share her breakfast cooking with me. It was perfection when we lived together. She didn't even judge me for my obsession with peanut butter or Usher.
So, my friend invited Alan and I to join her family for Eid (the end of Ramadan celebration) at their new apartment in Bartın, a city just an hour or so from where she grew up. It was a full day's drive from Kayseri, thanks in no small part to the indecipherable mess that is the highway system in the city of Ankara. We wanted to avoid the toll road, and in doing so ended up adding about 3 hours of extra driving to our trip because we were lost in Ankara. I can justify some of the problem by saying that Turkish highways, like US highways are labeled on maps with numbers: D-100, O-20, etc. However, in the city of Ankara, none of the signs have these numbers. Instead, they only have city names and Ankara neighborhood names (which I don't have memorized...). So, it's really not clear where you are going, except that you're going in the general direction of Istanbul, Konya, or Samsun. These places are hundreds of miles away. No signs said Zonguldak. That was a problem for us.
Anyway...
We made it. I even got to use some Turkish to ask for directions. How cool.
Sweaty and exhausted from the haul, we were warmly greeted and immediately served a multi-course dinner alongside two of her friends from the US, a retired French/Russian professor and a former Kyrgyz Peacecorps volunteer. It was the first of many beautiful, enormous meals that we were served.
After dinner, we went to a nearby beach for an evening dip. Let me just say that Turkey has some of the most beautiful beaches I've ever seen. I've added the Black Sea to my most beautiful places list after seeing the clear blue water framed by sheer rock cliff faces, white sand, and lush forest. I mean, wow! The placid water was the perfect antidote to a long day of hot driving.
We finished the night at a tea garden, recalling fond memories of our shared experiences in Flagstaff.
The next morning, a massive Turkish breakfast awaited us. In case you don't know about these breakfasts, let me describe the spread in a list:
- menemen (finely chopped peppers, onions, and tomatoes fried with eggs)
- fresh bread
- gozleme (philo dough lightly fried with butter)
- assorted cheeses
- assorted olives
- at least 3 kinds of fresh jam
- honey
- helva (a sweet paste/cookie-ish substance)
- cherry tomatoes
- cucumbers
- peppers
- black tea (tons of refills)
- Turkish coffee
Following that breakfast, we piled into a car headed for Safronbolu, a UNESCO World Heritage city, famed for, what else, Saffron. This city's oldest buildings are reminiscent of German Fachwerkhauser, those houses made with wooden beams and stucco-type material. After a few hot minutes under midday heat, we ducked into a mostly covered market where venders were selling handmade jewelry, cloth, and saffron-infused sweets and perfume. It was my favorite market yet because it was relatively quiet and low pressure, not to mention that the products were unique, well-priced, and felt of good quality. I picked up a few things, including a handmade beaded bracelet that I fell in love with.
We ordered refreshments in the oldest cafe in the city, shaded by grapevine-covered trellises. We watched as the barista cooked stone-ground Turkish coffee literally over hot coals. It was pretty cool, and totally deserving of the steep price tag. I could have sat in that place for hours.
After returning from Safronbolu, we went back to the beach for more swimming and sand castle building. There is nothing like a bunch of twenty- and thirty-somethings building a sand castle together.
That night we enjoyed the refreshments we had brought from Kayseri together and had a great time well into the wee morning hours.
The next morning, we loaded up on another Turkish breakfast and then set off for a marathon day: beach, family village visit, and restaurant dinner. It might not sound like much, but for someone like me, any of those things by themselves could constitute one day's activity. Let me give some details:
The beach: a different beach than we had been going to, and even more striking because of the cliff faces, rocky island (perfect for Alan to jump off of) and lack of busy streets nearby.
We swam and sunbathed for several hours and then we faced a few challenges. There was only one changing room for the entire beach, so we waited in line. I ended up changing in the WC (bathroom), and disappointingly, I had to sit my bag on the floor. It was horrible, but at least it was so dimly lit that I could barely see what I was sitting it in. Anyway, unshowered and still sandy, we got back in our cars to head for the village. My friend's father is from a small village several kilometers from this beach.
Not more than a minute into our journey, a major traffic jam halted us. Overflow parking on the narrow, steep dirt roads leading away from the beach had clogged traffic so badly that no one could move. And everyone refused to. Horns were honked, flat-palmed hand gestures were made, things were shouted, the police were even called. It was a mess.
Alan should get an award for best driver ever. Getting to a from that beach required some of the most insane maneuvers I've ever seen a mid-sized sedan do, not to mention one with a jalopy manual transmission.We inched up the hill, with just centimeters to spare on either side thanks to the parked cars. It was crazy, but we made it.
In the village, we met all kinds of family members, including the 95-year-old grandmother who is hard of hearing, but still sharp. Living to 95 in rural Turkey is like living to 150 anywhere else. She's got amazing DNA. We also met several relatives who live in Germany. My German was slow to develop, as much of my language space has been taken up with Turkish now, but between the two languages, it was possible to be understood fairly well.
My friend's father led us on a hike (more aptly described as a fast-paced and difficult trek up a thickly forested hill) to the top of a foothill overlooking where a river meets the Black Sea. It was indeed a great view, though I could hardly see for all the sweat in my eyes.
Following the sweaty hike, we went to the bridge overlooking the same river we had seen flowing into the ocean. A major flood 20 years ago had wiped out the old bridge, most of which had come to rest just in front of the new bridge, blocking trees and other large debris from passing. It looked pretty bad, actually.
After some drawn out Turkish goodbyes to family members, we set off for our dinner date in a small town about an hour away in Amasra.
What a treat that dinner was! We ate these tiny and delicious fried fish and drank the Turkish liquor called Rakı. It was one of the best meals I've had in Turkey. I learned how to pull out the small bones efficiently, and before long I had a huge pile of bones on my plate and my hands were covered in grease, but I loved it!
By the time we finished our yogurt and honey desert, I was really exhausted. We arrived back to her family's home around 1:00 AM and I think we all passed out immediately.
The next morning/afternoon we ate one final Turkish breakfast before loading up the car to come back to Kayseri. We said our goodbyes, and promised to visit each other in our various corners of the world. I hate those goodbyes because you really never know when you'll see that person again. It was hard to leave such a beautiful place to come back to our very polluted city life. It took us about 9 hours to return, thanks once again to the mystery that is Ankara's highway system.
Back at home, Alan and I cracked a few cans of Efes, loaded up the washing machine with our super dirty clothes, and let the weekend soak in. The trip north was a great ending to our time in Turkey. We've got about 10 days left, and I think we will spend most of that time organizing and packing for our next journey.
July 12, 2015
Big news!
I guess I'm going to have to change my blog title from "No Coffee, No Workee: Türkiye" to something about Coffee, Work, and Thailand.
It's official. Alan and I accepted job offers at Mae Fah Luang University in Chiang Rai, Thailand. I just finished booking the last leg of our flights. It's a long way from Omaha to Chiang Rai.
I'm sitting here in our Turkish apartment, alternating gazes between our 11th story view of Mount Erciyes topped in clouds, government-run high rises in the foreground; and my computer screen, window to the infinite possibilities of the internet. My feet are touching our Turkish kilim rug with its bold colors and geometric print. I'm sipping black tea from a mug provided by my current university in Turkey. I'm living one iteration of the ex-pat dream while day-dreaming about another incarnation of the dream thousands of miles away.
It was a strange week. We had interviews and multiple offer letters to consider, we drank too much coffee during our down time at work. We drank too much whiskey and wine at our friends' house, so we spent the night on couches, snuggling their new puppy who was named after a co-worker who has already returned to the US. We spent an entire day with a white board, comparing and contrasting our job offers in Thailand. We recruited our American friends who lived in Thailand to help us sort things out. We committed to the offer we've been wanting since early April.
We met my former roommate in Cappadocia yesterday. She was playing tour guide for a professor and student from Flagstaff. Between me, Alan, my roommate, and the current student, we had 4 generations of students from the same graduate program. Oddly enough, though I was the youngest in the group, I was the first to receive the degree. Anyway, quite a legacy coming from Northern Arizona! We went coffee and lunching in Göreme, and wine tasting in Ürgüp These towns practically feel like our backyards after a year in Kayseri. We gossiped about mutual acquaintances over "proper" glasses of wine while Turkish "lorries" rumbled up the hill next to our bar (excuse my British English--after a year of teaching from a British-made book, it's starting to feel natural--lorry = semi-truck).
The countdown until the end of Turkey is getting shorter. 18 days?
The countdown to Thailand is short, too, (32 days?) but seems like a million years away. It has hardly sunk in that we will be living in rural-ish Thailand soon. We will be eating rice and curries and noodles, and fresh fruit and pork. We will be drinking cheap beer and Johnny Walker in sweltering heat. The mosques we have grown used to will be replaced with temples. Our roman alphabet will be replaced by the curly Thai script. Our "teşekkürler" will be replaced with "kha-pun-kha." We will start over learning a new language and culture from scratch.
I'm cautiously excited for the move. I've lived in Southeast Asia before, and I know that the heat and the tummy bugs are hard on me; but I know that the people and the food suit me well, and I'm really looking forward to the next chapter. I hope it's a long one filled with twists, turns and at least one kitten. Until next time, dear reader...
It's official. Alan and I accepted job offers at Mae Fah Luang University in Chiang Rai, Thailand. I just finished booking the last leg of our flights. It's a long way from Omaha to Chiang Rai.
 |
| Famous White Temple in Chiang Rai |
I'm sitting here in our Turkish apartment, alternating gazes between our 11th story view of Mount Erciyes topped in clouds, government-run high rises in the foreground; and my computer screen, window to the infinite possibilities of the internet. My feet are touching our Turkish kilim rug with its bold colors and geometric print. I'm sipping black tea from a mug provided by my current university in Turkey. I'm living one iteration of the ex-pat dream while day-dreaming about another incarnation of the dream thousands of miles away.
It was a strange week. We had interviews and multiple offer letters to consider, we drank too much coffee during our down time at work. We drank too much whiskey and wine at our friends' house, so we spent the night on couches, snuggling their new puppy who was named after a co-worker who has already returned to the US. We spent an entire day with a white board, comparing and contrasting our job offers in Thailand. We recruited our American friends who lived in Thailand to help us sort things out. We committed to the offer we've been wanting since early April.
We met my former roommate in Cappadocia yesterday. She was playing tour guide for a professor and student from Flagstaff. Between me, Alan, my roommate, and the current student, we had 4 generations of students from the same graduate program. Oddly enough, though I was the youngest in the group, I was the first to receive the degree. Anyway, quite a legacy coming from Northern Arizona! We went coffee and lunching in Göreme, and wine tasting in Ürgüp These towns practically feel like our backyards after a year in Kayseri. We gossiped about mutual acquaintances over "proper" glasses of wine while Turkish "lorries" rumbled up the hill next to our bar (excuse my British English--after a year of teaching from a British-made book, it's starting to feel natural--lorry = semi-truck).
The countdown until the end of Turkey is getting shorter. 18 days?
The countdown to Thailand is short, too, (32 days?) but seems like a million years away. It has hardly sunk in that we will be living in rural-ish Thailand soon. We will be eating rice and curries and noodles, and fresh fruit and pork. We will be drinking cheap beer and Johnny Walker in sweltering heat. The mosques we have grown used to will be replaced with temples. Our roman alphabet will be replaced by the curly Thai script. Our "teşekkürler" will be replaced with "kha-pun-kha." We will start over learning a new language and culture from scratch.
I'm cautiously excited for the move. I've lived in Southeast Asia before, and I know that the heat and the tummy bugs are hard on me; but I know that the people and the food suit me well, and I'm really looking forward to the next chapter. I hope it's a long one filled with twists, turns and at least one kitten. Until next time, dear reader...
June 24, 2015
Iftar Dinner Kayseri Style
Earlier this month, my boss selected Alan and me to teach two groups of female high school students. We earned a little extra cash, and I had an awesome time with 12 of the brightest, sweetest young ladies I've ever met. They destroyed (in a good way) the games and activities that I planned, and we even had deep discussions about current events and their dreams for the future. Easiest teaching ever.
On the last day, we had a pizza party where they got certificates and they gave me and Alan gifts. It was incredibly sweet, and the goodbyes were painful. One of the students even invited me to her home to break the fast during Ramadan, the Islamic Holy month.
Yesterday, Alan and I went to her home in downtown Kayseri. She and her mother sweetly greeted us, and we chatted in their beautiful dining room while he mother finished cooking. The conversation was in English, and included some translations for the mother who was really curious and interested in the guests. My student's 27-year-old quantum-mathematics-studying-motorcycle-riding-all-around-awesome sister woke up from her resting and joined us just before the call to prayer (or in this case, call to eating).
Her mother had prepared a meal fit for royalty. We started with a rich and creamy soup made mostly with butter and yogurt. It was incredible. For the next course, I had requested mantı, the Kayserian version of dumplings, which were prepared to perfection, and topped with homemade tomato sauce and homemade yogurt. Delicious. Then, we had sarma (grape leaf-wrapped rice) and börek (pasteries), and bread, and salad. Just when I thought I'd explode, the next course came out: delicious baked chicken and potatoes, smothered in a tomato and pepper sauce.
It was a lot of food. We were gracious guests, and complimenting all of the foods, in Turkish, as best we could.
We moved to the couches for a post-meal Turkish coffee and delicious deserts (including the brownies I made with the mix my mom sent from the US), and we talked about everything. I was particularly interested in the mom's recent trip to Mecca and Medina on Hajj. We heard about the food, the traditional aspects of the pilgrimage, and even her opinions about Arabic coffee. My student's sister had a lot to say about her country and her plans for a PhD either in Holland or Canada. Alan and I tried to give her our best advice, even though we don't know much about either country. It was refreshing to experience a real Ramazan iftar in the company of women. I had only experienced a non-traditional iftar with my male Saudi friends back in Arizona. Normally, men and women wouldn't eat together.
The older sister stepped out for a few minutes to go to the mosque. Normally uncovered, she came back in a long black coat and headscarf. I'm still not fully aware of all the Islamic customs, so she explained to me that even if you don't usually wear a scarf over your hair, when you go to pray, you need to wear a scarf. I also learned that women pray on the second floor of the mosque (men on the first).
Later came the tea service and fruit plates. My stomach was incredibly full, but I never turn down a Turkish tea (or three).
The night ended with promises to travel together, to have more meals together, and maybe even explore another country together. It was a great night of human connection. It's another memory of Turkey that I will cherish.
We have about 6 weeks left in Turkey. Sometimes that seems too few, and sometimes it still feels like a long time to survive. I hope to squeeze all I can out of the next few weeks before coming back to the US for a brief visit.
Happy Ramadan!
June 7, 2015
No pictures, but an experience to document
As a member of a generation who is obsessed with documenting everything on Facebook and Instagram and Snapchat and Twitter and whatever else, I feel that in some ways, I failed yesterday. I didn't manage to take any pictures of anything.
A former student of Alan's (and a volleyball player of mine!) invited us to his family's home in Keskin, Turkey. Keskin is between Kayseri and Ankara, nestled in a picturesque landscape of rolling hills of green crops. The hills are dotted with farm houses and groves of fruit and nut trees.
I watched the RPMs drop as I put in the clutch in on the bigger hills. Saving gas, I thought. We cruised past sign after sign advertising local nuts, almonds, and raisins. We met our student on the main road in town. He had headphones in as we pulled up. A strangely modern element of this sleepy village.
"You're probably the first Americans here," he said, as we pulled up to a stop light next to a tractor. We accompanied him into a small shop selling meat and Coke products. We came out with a couple kilos of ground beef and a 2 liters each of Coke and Fanta.
Alan drove as we left the village on a dirt road behind a tractor pulling a huge trailer on grain. As a Nebraskan, I feel I can claim some farm heritage, but really I grew up in a medium sized city and haven't spent hardly any time on any farms anywhere, so I guess maybe I shouldn't claim too much.
We pulled into the driveway of his farm, and we were greeted immediately by his Kurdish-speaking grandmother, followed by mom, younger brother, and teenage sister. Our limited Turkish was enough for this interaction, and to get my purse inside the house. It turns out that my purse (containing my picture-taking iPad, tissues, and eyedrops) would be the only thing of mine that ever went in the house, but that's kind of another story--one that goes like this: most Turks are embarrassed to invite you inside their houses for whatever reason, so you'll probably eat in the garden or at a restaurant.
So anyway, there went my purse, and we and our student went on a long walk around the farm. We saw chickens, chicks, roosters, dogs, and ducks. We walked next to growing vegetables, sunflowers, grains, and many beautiful wildflowers. It was a long hike and the three of us were all suffering from allergies by the end.
When we came back to the farm, the women of the house, plus several female relatives who had arrived while we were gone, were cooking food on a homemade grill (more later). I was invited to sit with the men. Before I even sat down, I asked if I could use the restroom--you know I love to write about this...
His sister apologised that they didn't have a WC inside the house as she led me down a corridor between two barracks used for housing the family's cows and bulls. I prepared mentally for a new bathroom experience, and I wasn't disappointed. Cambodia has nothing on this one...
It was a concrete floor with a hole. There was a stiff-bristled brush and broom (in case your aim isn't so hot) and a large container of water with a small bucket (for self-cleaning). Although I've nearly mastered the squat-pot from a year of squatting in teacher clothes, the small opening in the floor did me no favors. My black (thankfully) tennis shoes got a little more than they bargained for out of the deal.
Anyway, I came back out and his sister showed me into one of the livestock barracks. The air inside was very hard to breathe. It was like State-Fair-Air concentrate in there. I admired the cows as best I could while holding my breath, and then escaped back out to the garden area.
I decided to follow Turkish tradition by joining the females, rather than sitting with the males, even though my only English speakers were at the male table. I sat on the porch swing with Grandma and we had a conversation about her grandkids, her hometown, and the prospect of having tea later. I also got in on a short conversation about the barbeque. It was a new technique: a slab of limestone laid across a fire pit. All the meat, potatoes and peppers were arranged on the limestone, cooking beautifully. I tried to explain that yes, I do cook, and yes, I have eaten barbequed food; but never in this way. Boy, that stretched my Turkish. I sampled a potato before heading to the boys' table.
In true Turkish style, the meal was enormous. The table was covered in plates of salad, Köfte (Turkish meatballs), chicken, Sarma (rice rolled in grape leaves), bread, homemade pastries and cakes, and a cold yogurt soup. The men and I ate while the women watched us. I have to say, there was enough food for everyone who was there to have at least three helpings, but not everyone ate. I didn't see the women eat anything, in fact. Anyway, after I couldn't eat anymore, I had another glass of Coke, and then we moved into the gazebo for tea.
This gazebo was incredible. It was shaded and had a nice breeze. There were benches covered in Turkish cushons. There was a Turkish flag gently swaying above us, and we (student and his friend, me, Alan and student's father) sat together making conversation about school and music. His sister brought us fresh tea--which I've really come to love after a year of constant tea.
One of the puppies (which I had previously been advised against petting because it's not friendly) came up to the entrance of the gazebo. I couldn't resist, so I got up and introduced myself to it. Within seconds we were best buddies and it was rolling around enjoying a belly rub. I later wondered if I shouldn't have petted the puppy because I'm not totally sure how dogs are used on the farm and whether me petting it would ruin its ability to be a vicious guard dog, but in any case, I got my puppy therapy for the month.
A quick handwash from the well pump and we were off on a strawberry mission. We picked fresh berries together, and I can say they are were some of the best I've ever had.
Back at the farm, the student's mom gave me a tour of her tractor tire flower beds, and I tried some of the lemony salad greens. Delicious!
Although I could have stayed relaxing in that garden for hours, Alan and I decided that it was probably time that we left. The student's mother presented me with a gift of two scarves, from the 1980's she told me, and invited us back whenever we wanted. It was so sweet. If I had spoken better Turkish, I would have told her how much it means to a foreigner to be invited to someone's home (or at least near to it) for a meal. I would have also said how much we appreciated their generosity and the hard work that went into the meal. I did my best with limited phrases, and I hoped that the baklava that Alan and I had brought from Kayseri would somehow express what I couldn't.
As we backed out of the driveway, it felt like we were leaving our own family somehow. They were waving and wishing us well as we turned onto the dirt road behind our student. He drove the family tractor into town to help us find the highway. It was so strangely familiar, and yet, passing under the election banners and passing by Turkish men astounded by our golden hair and foreigner license plates, I felt so far from home.
This kind of experience is why I live abroad. Making connections with people. The world gets a little smaller and more friendly when you spend time with people who have a different background from yours. I'm so grateful to our student for sharing his life with us, and while I wish I had some pictures, I'm happy that I got to see everything with my own eyes and not from the screen of my iPad. Besides, a blog-entry is the highest form of flattery in my travels.
A former student of Alan's (and a volleyball player of mine!) invited us to his family's home in Keskin, Turkey. Keskin is between Kayseri and Ankara, nestled in a picturesque landscape of rolling hills of green crops. The hills are dotted with farm houses and groves of fruit and nut trees.
I watched the RPMs drop as I put in the clutch in on the bigger hills. Saving gas, I thought. We cruised past sign after sign advertising local nuts, almonds, and raisins. We met our student on the main road in town. He had headphones in as we pulled up. A strangely modern element of this sleepy village.
"You're probably the first Americans here," he said, as we pulled up to a stop light next to a tractor. We accompanied him into a small shop selling meat and Coke products. We came out with a couple kilos of ground beef and a 2 liters each of Coke and Fanta.
Alan drove as we left the village on a dirt road behind a tractor pulling a huge trailer on grain. As a Nebraskan, I feel I can claim some farm heritage, but really I grew up in a medium sized city and haven't spent hardly any time on any farms anywhere, so I guess maybe I shouldn't claim too much.
We pulled into the driveway of his farm, and we were greeted immediately by his Kurdish-speaking grandmother, followed by mom, younger brother, and teenage sister. Our limited Turkish was enough for this interaction, and to get my purse inside the house. It turns out that my purse (containing my picture-taking iPad, tissues, and eyedrops) would be the only thing of mine that ever went in the house, but that's kind of another story--one that goes like this: most Turks are embarrassed to invite you inside their houses for whatever reason, so you'll probably eat in the garden or at a restaurant.
So anyway, there went my purse, and we and our student went on a long walk around the farm. We saw chickens, chicks, roosters, dogs, and ducks. We walked next to growing vegetables, sunflowers, grains, and many beautiful wildflowers. It was a long hike and the three of us were all suffering from allergies by the end.
When we came back to the farm, the women of the house, plus several female relatives who had arrived while we were gone, were cooking food on a homemade grill (more later). I was invited to sit with the men. Before I even sat down, I asked if I could use the restroom--you know I love to write about this...
His sister apologised that they didn't have a WC inside the house as she led me down a corridor between two barracks used for housing the family's cows and bulls. I prepared mentally for a new bathroom experience, and I wasn't disappointed. Cambodia has nothing on this one...
It was a concrete floor with a hole. There was a stiff-bristled brush and broom (in case your aim isn't so hot) and a large container of water with a small bucket (for self-cleaning). Although I've nearly mastered the squat-pot from a year of squatting in teacher clothes, the small opening in the floor did me no favors. My black (thankfully) tennis shoes got a little more than they bargained for out of the deal.
Anyway, I came back out and his sister showed me into one of the livestock barracks. The air inside was very hard to breathe. It was like State-Fair-Air concentrate in there. I admired the cows as best I could while holding my breath, and then escaped back out to the garden area.
I decided to follow Turkish tradition by joining the females, rather than sitting with the males, even though my only English speakers were at the male table. I sat on the porch swing with Grandma and we had a conversation about her grandkids, her hometown, and the prospect of having tea later. I also got in on a short conversation about the barbeque. It was a new technique: a slab of limestone laid across a fire pit. All the meat, potatoes and peppers were arranged on the limestone, cooking beautifully. I tried to explain that yes, I do cook, and yes, I have eaten barbequed food; but never in this way. Boy, that stretched my Turkish. I sampled a potato before heading to the boys' table.
In true Turkish style, the meal was enormous. The table was covered in plates of salad, Köfte (Turkish meatballs), chicken, Sarma (rice rolled in grape leaves), bread, homemade pastries and cakes, and a cold yogurt soup. The men and I ate while the women watched us. I have to say, there was enough food for everyone who was there to have at least three helpings, but not everyone ate. I didn't see the women eat anything, in fact. Anyway, after I couldn't eat anymore, I had another glass of Coke, and then we moved into the gazebo for tea.
This gazebo was incredible. It was shaded and had a nice breeze. There were benches covered in Turkish cushons. There was a Turkish flag gently swaying above us, and we (student and his friend, me, Alan and student's father) sat together making conversation about school and music. His sister brought us fresh tea--which I've really come to love after a year of constant tea.
One of the puppies (which I had previously been advised against petting because it's not friendly) came up to the entrance of the gazebo. I couldn't resist, so I got up and introduced myself to it. Within seconds we were best buddies and it was rolling around enjoying a belly rub. I later wondered if I shouldn't have petted the puppy because I'm not totally sure how dogs are used on the farm and whether me petting it would ruin its ability to be a vicious guard dog, but in any case, I got my puppy therapy for the month.
A quick handwash from the well pump and we were off on a strawberry mission. We picked fresh berries together, and I can say they are were some of the best I've ever had.
Back at the farm, the student's mom gave me a tour of her tractor tire flower beds, and I tried some of the lemony salad greens. Delicious!
Although I could have stayed relaxing in that garden for hours, Alan and I decided that it was probably time that we left. The student's mother presented me with a gift of two scarves, from the 1980's she told me, and invited us back whenever we wanted. It was so sweet. If I had spoken better Turkish, I would have told her how much it means to a foreigner to be invited to someone's home (or at least near to it) for a meal. I would have also said how much we appreciated their generosity and the hard work that went into the meal. I did my best with limited phrases, and I hoped that the baklava that Alan and I had brought from Kayseri would somehow express what I couldn't.
As we backed out of the driveway, it felt like we were leaving our own family somehow. They were waving and wishing us well as we turned onto the dirt road behind our student. He drove the family tractor into town to help us find the highway. It was so strangely familiar, and yet, passing under the election banners and passing by Turkish men astounded by our golden hair and foreigner license plates, I felt so far from home.
This kind of experience is why I live abroad. Making connections with people. The world gets a little smaller and more friendly when you spend time with people who have a different background from yours. I'm so grateful to our student for sharing his life with us, and while I wish I had some pictures, I'm happy that I got to see everything with my own eyes and not from the screen of my iPad. Besides, a blog-entry is the highest form of flattery in my travels.
May 24, 2015
4th quarter disaster and moving on
It's been a month since my last post. I finally finished the fourth and final teaching quarter at Meliksah. The last quarter was by far the most difficult--in fact, there really is no comparison to any teaching challenge I've ever faced in the past.
I was assigned to teach the dreaded "repeater" sections of students who didn't pass the 3rd quarter. Some of them didn't pass because of proficiency, but most didn't pass because of attendance or motivation issues. While the lowest 2 repeater sections gave up almost immediately and started watching subtitled films instead of working in the course books, my sections were supposed to trudge on through the material that students had already seen the previous quarter. You can imagine that my students and I were not so thrilled to review the exact same material again.
Things were bad. I felt like I had stepped into an alternate universe in which disrespecting and ignoring the teacher were normal behaviors, and a good day was one during which I only imagined strangling one student. Students would deliberately put headphones in when I was talking, flat out refuse to do activities, and in some cases, refuse to speak English to me. Students painted their nails, applied make up, played cell phone games, took selfies, sang along to the songs on their headphones, and even set up what looked to me to be a craps table using their books. Perhaps most annoying of all, many of my questions were not answered with words, but with this delightful gesture/noise. It's a very casual way to say "no" in Turkish, but it's really not appropriate for a teacher-student interaction, and definitely not appropriate to an open-ended question.
I cried in the classroom for the first time in my life.
These groups of students took me to a very dark place. For the first time in my life, I genuinely did not want to teach. I felt like my job was pointless. Honestly, I think my students were in a similar mode of apathy and ennui. The classroom atmosphere was heavy and dull--completely the opposite of how it usually feels.
Now that it's over, I can look back and see a few bright spots, but I was so relieved to finish my final hour on Friday. I'm usually sad on the last day of class, but not this time. It was a bad feeling for me. I want to like my students and help them and miss them when they're gone.
My colleagues and I had a great party last night to celebrate the end of the repeater classes, and I'm feeling much less toxic now. I'm ready to move on.
I'm looking forward to non-teaching time this summer to investigate my research interests in educational psychology and identity. I hope that I will feel refreshed and motivated now that I've survived such a difficult experience.
I was assigned to teach the dreaded "repeater" sections of students who didn't pass the 3rd quarter. Some of them didn't pass because of proficiency, but most didn't pass because of attendance or motivation issues. While the lowest 2 repeater sections gave up almost immediately and started watching subtitled films instead of working in the course books, my sections were supposed to trudge on through the material that students had already seen the previous quarter. You can imagine that my students and I were not so thrilled to review the exact same material again.
Things were bad. I felt like I had stepped into an alternate universe in which disrespecting and ignoring the teacher were normal behaviors, and a good day was one during which I only imagined strangling one student. Students would deliberately put headphones in when I was talking, flat out refuse to do activities, and in some cases, refuse to speak English to me. Students painted their nails, applied make up, played cell phone games, took selfies, sang along to the songs on their headphones, and even set up what looked to me to be a craps table using their books. Perhaps most annoying of all, many of my questions were not answered with words, but with this delightful gesture/noise. It's a very casual way to say "no" in Turkish, but it's really not appropriate for a teacher-student interaction, and definitely not appropriate to an open-ended question.
I cried in the classroom for the first time in my life.
These groups of students took me to a very dark place. For the first time in my life, I genuinely did not want to teach. I felt like my job was pointless. Honestly, I think my students were in a similar mode of apathy and ennui. The classroom atmosphere was heavy and dull--completely the opposite of how it usually feels.
Now that it's over, I can look back and see a few bright spots, but I was so relieved to finish my final hour on Friday. I'm usually sad on the last day of class, but not this time. It was a bad feeling for me. I want to like my students and help them and miss them when they're gone.
My colleagues and I had a great party last night to celebrate the end of the repeater classes, and I'm feeling much less toxic now. I'm ready to move on.
I'm looking forward to non-teaching time this summer to investigate my research interests in educational psychology and identity. I hope that I will feel refreshed and motivated now that I've survived such a difficult experience.
April 21, 2015
Weekend Adventure in Cappadocia
It's Tuesday morning and I've just finished a double Turkish coffee. My colleagues gave me a hard time because Turks usually drink coffee in the afternoon, following a big meal. The luxury of time for such a treat is only available to me in the morning, before my teaching day begins. I'll take my buzz now, thanks.
Anyway, I want to write a little about my weekend. The best I've had in a long time. Maybe ever--in some ways.
Alan and I ditched complicated plans to visit a waterfall with friends in favor of a self-directed hike in Cappadocia. We went to the other side of a valley we had previously visited, and wow. It was spectacular. Cappadocia's whimsical forms look good in every season--but on the first day of warm sunshine after a month of drab gray winter-ish weather--I mean, güzel (beautiful). The wildflowers were blowing, the bees were buzzing, and Alan and I were happily strolling a dusty trail together. We nibbled on sandwiches and skipped over small creeks. We explored ancient caves and marveled at the sheer cliff faces rising from the landscape.
And then...we found the staircase.
Alan found it. I was pretty satisfied NOT going in, but Alan pulled out his flashlight, and got on hands and knees to enter the three by three hole leading into complete darkness. He illuminated a staircase leading upward into an abyss of blackness with a cool breeze rushing out. "Come on," he said.
"No thanks, I'm good."
"No, just come in and look up. That's all."
I did, and then somehow he convinced me to keep climbing in the darkness, no doubt passing spiders and crawlies and ancient omens. My hands were covered in the ancient dust as I searched for the handholds on the walls, hunched over, but climbing.
A precarious turn in the stairway held us up a little, but through the dusty cavern we could see the sunlight from a window above. Alan urged me on, and somehow we made it to a look out, about six stories up.
Alan got really nervous about climbing back down the stairway. He was really worried that I would fall because of the worn away steep steps. "If either of us fall," he warned, "we are in big trouble."
Somethings I wish he'd consider before we are at the top of a dangerous stone tunnel staircase.
Anyway, Alan worked his way back into the staircase, wedging himself precariously as to create a block in case I slipped. I cautiously scooted my butt inch by inch down the ridiculous stairs. Once I got close, Alan descended a few more stairs and blockaded again. The descent was admittedly WAY worse than the climb, as the steps were narrow and angled downward, not to mention covered in an inch of powered rock. A perfect recipe for slipping down a 30 foot shaft of rock.
Somehow, we made it to the bottom safely. I think my positive out loud self talk really helped. "Jena, you're doing great. One at a time. One at a time."
I emerged, dusty and a little shaky from adrenaline, but accomplished.
We hiked for several more hours before deciding to reward ourselves with a cold beer on the roof of our favorite cafe. The waiter has seen us every two weeks for the past few months, so he greeted us warmly and proceeded to dust me off. It was pretty funny. He asked whether we would be ordering our usual hot, spiced wine. This guys knows us too well. "Two beers, please."
We even got to see our buddy "Long Dog" (Corgi and German Shepard hybrid) and meet two new friends, "Mop Dog" and "Big Dog" (like the Beast from Beauty and the Beast) on the streets of Goreme.
It was a great day.
Anyway, I want to write a little about my weekend. The best I've had in a long time. Maybe ever--in some ways.
Alan and I ditched complicated plans to visit a waterfall with friends in favor of a self-directed hike in Cappadocia. We went to the other side of a valley we had previously visited, and wow. It was spectacular. Cappadocia's whimsical forms look good in every season--but on the first day of warm sunshine after a month of drab gray winter-ish weather--I mean, güzel (beautiful). The wildflowers were blowing, the bees were buzzing, and Alan and I were happily strolling a dusty trail together. We nibbled on sandwiches and skipped over small creeks. We explored ancient caves and marveled at the sheer cliff faces rising from the landscape.
And then...we found the staircase.
Alan found it. I was pretty satisfied NOT going in, but Alan pulled out his flashlight, and got on hands and knees to enter the three by three hole leading into complete darkness. He illuminated a staircase leading upward into an abyss of blackness with a cool breeze rushing out. "Come on," he said.
 |
| The staircase (the opening was just tall enough to crawl through) |
"No thanks, I'm good."
"No, just come in and look up. That's all."
I did, and then somehow he convinced me to keep climbing in the darkness, no doubt passing spiders and crawlies and ancient omens. My hands were covered in the ancient dust as I searched for the handholds on the walls, hunched over, but climbing.
A precarious turn in the stairway held us up a little, but through the dusty cavern we could see the sunlight from a window above. Alan urged me on, and somehow we made it to a look out, about six stories up.
Alan got really nervous about climbing back down the stairway. He was really worried that I would fall because of the worn away steep steps. "If either of us fall," he warned, "we are in big trouble."
Somethings I wish he'd consider before we are at the top of a dangerous stone tunnel staircase.
Anyway, Alan worked his way back into the staircase, wedging himself precariously as to create a block in case I slipped. I cautiously scooted my butt inch by inch down the ridiculous stairs. Once I got close, Alan descended a few more stairs and blockaded again. The descent was admittedly WAY worse than the climb, as the steps were narrow and angled downward, not to mention covered in an inch of powered rock. A perfect recipe for slipping down a 30 foot shaft of rock.
Somehow, we made it to the bottom safely. I think my positive out loud self talk really helped. "Jena, you're doing great. One at a time. One at a time."
I emerged, dusty and a little shaky from adrenaline, but accomplished.
We hiked for several more hours before deciding to reward ourselves with a cold beer on the roof of our favorite cafe. The waiter has seen us every two weeks for the past few months, so he greeted us warmly and proceeded to dust me off. It was pretty funny. He asked whether we would be ordering our usual hot, spiced wine. This guys knows us too well. "Two beers, please."
We even got to see our buddy "Long Dog" (Corgi and German Shepard hybrid) and meet two new friends, "Mop Dog" and "Big Dog" (like the Beast from Beauty and the Beast) on the streets of Goreme.
It was a great day.
April 11, 2015
Self-Cheerleading. Driving, Turkish, Volleyball...
Today I've got a lot to be proud of, and a lot to be grateful for.
This morning, I wrote messages to not one, but two Turkish friends in Turkish. My proficiency and confidence has really changed in the past three months. I'm proud of my progress.
Last night, I drove our manual transmission, crazy-time post-factory-rigged Hyundai by myself for the first time. No stalls, no accidents, no peel-outs. I even had to deal with construction, and as always, Turkish drivers. You bet those line lanes didn't constrict my movements.
I even drove a student part of the way to her house after our VOLLEYBALL match. I finally got more than 4 people to come to volleyball at the girls dorm. Interestingly, the co-ed archery team was also practicing in there at the same time. Sounds like a lawsuit waiting to happen, right? I also think this particular combination of danger and trying to do my normal thing is particularly indicative of my time in Turkey. Be careful where you run, there might be someone learning how to use a bow and arrow! Be careful where you drive, "one-way street" is only a suggestion! Et cetera.
I've been feeling pretty down lately based on the never-ending winter temperatures and grey skies and also a new teaching assignment that has me teaching the same five chapters (for the third time this year) to students who failed this material in the previous quarter. I'm trying to approach it with grace, but it's not always easy. I survived the first week. I'm also proud of that.
Alan and I have decided not to renew our contracts for next year, so we are on the job market again. We are looking to Thailand for our next phase. A little more tropical and more pad thai (delicious noodles). If all goes as planned, you can expect lots of posts from Southeast Asia in 2016.
I am grateful for what I have here in Turkey. A well-paid job, wonderful friends and colleagues, a car, Cappadocia. Our first year of marriage. Good health (knock on wood). Good wine.
On that note, I'll start my Saturday. All my best to you and yours.
This morning, I wrote messages to not one, but two Turkish friends in Turkish. My proficiency and confidence has really changed in the past three months. I'm proud of my progress.
Last night, I drove our manual transmission, crazy-time post-factory-rigged Hyundai by myself for the first time. No stalls, no accidents, no peel-outs. I even had to deal with construction, and as always, Turkish drivers. You bet those line lanes didn't constrict my movements.
I even drove a student part of the way to her house after our VOLLEYBALL match. I finally got more than 4 people to come to volleyball at the girls dorm. Interestingly, the co-ed archery team was also practicing in there at the same time. Sounds like a lawsuit waiting to happen, right? I also think this particular combination of danger and trying to do my normal thing is particularly indicative of my time in Turkey. Be careful where you run, there might be someone learning how to use a bow and arrow! Be careful where you drive, "one-way street" is only a suggestion! Et cetera.
I've been feeling pretty down lately based on the never-ending winter temperatures and grey skies and also a new teaching assignment that has me teaching the same five chapters (for the third time this year) to students who failed this material in the previous quarter. I'm trying to approach it with grace, but it's not always easy. I survived the first week. I'm also proud of that.
Alan and I have decided not to renew our contracts for next year, so we are on the job market again. We are looking to Thailand for our next phase. A little more tropical and more pad thai (delicious noodles). If all goes as planned, you can expect lots of posts from Southeast Asia in 2016.
I am grateful for what I have here in Turkey. A well-paid job, wonderful friends and colleagues, a car, Cappadocia. Our first year of marriage. Good health (knock on wood). Good wine.
On that note, I'll start my Saturday. All my best to you and yours.
March 22, 2015
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.
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.
March 15, 2015
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.
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.
March 1, 2015
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!
February 18, 2015
February 15, 2015
Our first weekend with the new car
 |
| Alan driving |
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.
February 11, 2015
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...
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...
January 25, 2015
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.
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.
January 15, 2015
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.
January 11, 2015
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
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.
January 7, 2015
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.
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.
December 31, 2014
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.
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.
December 28, 2014
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.
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