A Day in the Life- International Edition

It was a sunny weekend. I rolled out of bed around noon on Saturday morning, foraged about in the kitchen for something edible, and followed that up by scrubbing all the dishes I didn't do the night before. Straightened the apartment a bit, grabbed a shower- shower head attached solely by duct tape- and then threw on whatever was convenient. Alex roused herself at some point during this sequence, performed her own weekend-morning rituals, and then we bonded over Paul Wright (musician) while making apple crisp. Refresher: I don't cook. But I am capable of cleaning the dishes she uses, since we so few cooking utensils that it is often necessary to clean them multiple times while making the same dish.

our kitchen, and the stove that tries to kill me
So I cleaned, which is my assigned half of the domestic obligations in our apartment. And I peeled the apples, because Turkey hasn't yet discovered the peeler and Alex's version of "peeling" involves hacking away haphazardly with a rather blunt knife until the apple is about half its original size. But don't worry, she gets all the peel off! So we* successfully cooked a large pan of apple crisp, and brought it to Bible study at the Vatican Embassy, which started at 4:30- "Turkish time." We got there at about five and were the fifth and sixth people in the room, which by 6:30 had about a dozen students. The students were all close to our age and African- from Angola, Mozambique, and Burundi. Intermediate English speakers for the most part, and Swahili/Portuguese natives. They could communicate with us well enough. The priest running the Bible study, originally from Ohio, had assigned us to read Song of Songs.

No worries, I remember thinking on Sunday, when he informed us we would be studying it. We'll all read it, and then just discuss the meaning in the study group. Doesn't need to be awkward. Yeah. No, we'll be fine. Definitely. Reassured, I didn't think much about it. Until Saturday, that is, when we walked in a bit late, just in time to hear the feminine voice of the poem praising the masculine voice- "therefore, the virgins love you!"

This priest was making this group of (male and female) non-fluent English speakers read NKJV translated ancient, semi-explicit Hebrew poetry. Aloud.

 

And I thought I had a sick sense of humor.


So after an hour or so of this immense awkwardness- we took turns reading passages, and then discussed them at the end of each chapter (it's only six chapters long, thank God). I swear, nothing but the presence of an ordained minister could have kept me from bursting out into awkward giggles. On multiple occasions. Which sounds terribly immature, I understand, but here's a (verbatim) snippet of conversation:

"Alright, so who's reading the next passage- chapter four, the first fifteen verses. It's a boy- you, young man, you walked in a bit late- what's your name?" the priest asked.
"Landrine" the boy responded, with a heavy Burundian accent.
"Okay, Laundry, will you please read next?"
(Stifled giggles.)
By the time "Laundry" got to the part about "breasts like twin fawns," I am quite certain I have never felt more awkward in my life. And I am an awkward person to begin with.

It finished quickly enough, as we were all eager to get past the awkwardness and dig into the food. As I mentioned, Alex and I brought apple crisp, and there were cookies and juice and other church-activity staples. We left with the two boys from Burundi, Landrine (whose name we learned over apple crisp) and Liberi (sp?), who basically held my hand and walked me through the transit system- from the bus, to Kizilay, to the metro, through the process of purchasing the AnkaraMetro equivalent of a Charlie Card, and finally through the labriynth-like subway stop to my actual waiting area.
From there, Alex and I went to the Armada mall, hung around on the internet for an hour or so, then caught a cab to Stephanie's apartment, where we met Sophie, the newest intern at the French Embassy, and walked with them to a farewell party for a friend whom I've met several times. I met one of the major Frnech diplomats, whose name escapes me, and talked with him about world events and his experiences working in Uganda, Kenya, and Turkey. If I ever had any doubts about wanting to work in the international arena, my experiences here have completely made up my mind. I also met and chatted with a new intern from Denmark, very young and arrived only a week ago. Hopefully we'll keep in touch.

We were then introduced to Anthony, who was responsible for our invitation/entrance into the Canadian Embassy party, and thanked him profusely. He seemed very fun, and invited us out to a party following the one we were at- apparently one of the US Army officers was leaving, and throwing a farewell party. So of course we accepted, tagged along with him and his female friend(?), and landed at a house party filled with military personnel, expats, and other Americans. Which was absolutely thrilling. I met people from San Diego, Augusta (Georgia), NorCal, and New Jersey, and others whose home states I didn't catch. There was apparently a fight between a few of the revelers, and a superior officer took matters into his own hands and declared the party over around 2 AM. At which point, Alex and I left with a few new friends, and ended up back at the Marilyn Monroe Bar (location of our inauguration get together), where we had fun talking with a Californian in the Air Force, a Danish diplomat, and an Irish expat. Absolutely fantastic. Two hours later, we exchanged phone numbers and last names- they promised to find Alex and I on facebook, to our great amusement- said our goodbyes, and caught cabs to our various parts of the city.


All of this- from reading Hebrew poetry with Africans, to a French dinner party, to an American house party and a Turkish bar- in one day. Not too shabby.






*Alex and I have coined a new grammatical term: "The Turkish We." Because we refer to ourselves in the plural on a near-constant basis, (in case you hadn't noticed), even when telling stories that are clearly individual- i.e., we thought or we were going to wear or we didn't like. We spend 98% of our time within shouting distance, so it's understandable.