Spanish dance, French faith

So Friday night was Anna & Turkner's dinner party. "We" included Marina this time, a) because she's a sweetheart and I adore her, and b) because she speaks fluent Turkish and without her we (Alex and I) would pretty much die. All the time. Not that we use her or anything. Anyhow. So of course, we had trouble getting to the apartment because the cab drivers here are awful- as someone explained to me later, most of them aren't "career" cab drivers, so they know only their small area of the city.

We arrived at the apartment around 20:30, enjoyed Anna's incredible homemade Mexican food- chimichangas were fantastic- and of course some Turkish food too. There's a tabbouleh-like dish here named kısır (kussur) that is fantastic- my officemate brought it in and shared it with me during my first week, and I absolutely fell in love. She's offered to not only give me the recipe, but actually come to the apartment and teach me how to make it! And apparently it's easy to make and very healthy- unlike everything else here. They take their chocolate and pastries very seriously. But to get off the rabbit trail... The gathering was very informal, not so much a "dinner" party as a buffet-style set up in the kitchen and then everyone gathered in the hall or sat on cushions on the living room floor. Different, but I liked it. I met some fun people, including a youngish (as usual, everyone was at least 5-10 years my senior), Canadian guy who teaches English at Bilkent, another university in Ankara- a MUCH larger one. And I had a conversation with a man who went to Boston University for grad school, and we had a great time trading stories about the area. So a couple hours go by, and everyone starts to shift towards the door- and we're invited to join them for tangoing! Everyone carpooled and we ended up at a bar/dance hall at the base of the Sheraton Hotel, which, of course, is THE place to be if you're a Turkish tango enthusiast (note: not the "Turkish tango," which does not exist, but rather Turkish (origin) and a tango enthusiast. Ahem.) And the place was like something straight out of a classic black and white film- dim lights, beautiful marble columns, and incredibly talented- and serious! - dancers on the floor. So Alex and Marina and I basically sat and watching, jaws open, for a solid two hours. They were absolutely beautiful. Anna had a great comment- "Tangoing, when it's done right, should feel like a very short, intense affair." And it really was. So Alex and I have set our minds to learning the tango as soon as humanly possible. We gathered business cards from everyone within arm's reach before we left, and have been shooting out emails and such since yesterday- we have no internet in the apartment, so we had to wait til Monday.

Saturday was mellow, we mostly loafed around the apartment, and then went to the Ankamall because Marina and Alex wanted to go shopping... again. I bought a book and hung out at a Starbucks (they really are everywhere) for three hours. Everyone was happy.

So Alex had asked Stephanie, (the one who invited us to the Canadian Embassy), about the possibility of finding a Catholic church somewhere in Ankara. You know, because countries that are 98% Muslim have churches all over the place. However, to my great surprise, there is a tiny one in Ulus, the oldest part of Ankara. And we were invited to go with her and her family on Sunday morning. The only problem being that Stephanie (and her family) are French, and therefore attend the French service with other French-speaking persons. So again, I can't understand the majority of what is happening- in case Catholic mass isn't complicated enough, now I've got to deal with all the sitting-kneeling-standing-repeating stuff in. another. language. And Marina joined us again, which was very funny because she isn't Catholic either, and speaks no French- so the three of us were, for once, equally baffled the entire time. To be fair, though, between proper names (John Baptiste isn't hard to translate) and some similarities to Spanish, I got the gist of the sermon. The priest went through the stories of God calling Samuel and other Biblical occasions where God used people's names, and concluded that God is a personal being, interested in people as individuals. And the priest was inspired- it's an odd feeling, knowing that someone is a gifted speaker and feeling the emotional draw of his words, even when the language itself is foreign. The result of which was my renewed interest in learning French, something I've wanted to do for a while but never really got around to.


Walking to Mass
After church there was a lunch, with more homemade food- Turkey is going to make me fat- (...pun unintended) - and spectacular French wines. At a church luncheon. And while enjoying those, I was educated on the pros and cons of Turkish wine and what to look out for when buying it, because it is (apparently) a very hit-or-miss situation. Again, met some very nice people with whom I hope to keep in touch, and exchanged emails and phone numbers and such. Marina also seemed to have a good time- it's a bit easier to make friends when you speak the local language. Fluently.

I started actually teaching this week, always an adventure. I only have two classes today, at 11:50 and 14:35, so I'll probably fill in the details on schools stuff when I finish with that.