Far too long

So, so much has happened recently that I'm not sure how I'll ever manage to talk about it all. Suffice it to say that May and June have been filled with adventures- some better than others. A woefully inadequate recap:

May 7-10: Trip to Gaziantep. Alex and I hung out in Antep for a weekend, visited a school, factory, hospital, bird preserve, and museum, all run by SANKO, a Turkish conglomerate. We saw kelaynak, an endangered (and kind of ugly) species of bird, learned about the Zeugma civilization, saw how towels are made, ate Ottoman-style food, played in the Euphrates river, and hung out at a private elementary school with about as much money as my university. We bonded with a bunch of the people all the trip, all university students from Ankara or Istanbul. The best part was we didn't have to apply to the program or pay for any of it- our employer pulled a few strings- although, as expected, everything was in turkish.

The next week was filled with festivals. I went to two nights of Gazi University's festival, and saw Magda (really cool turkish rock band), and got pushed aside by a girl wearing a headscarf and bondage pants. The next night was some mediocre chick who wasn't wearing any clothes- think Britney gone Turkish. I tried kokoreç, (roasted sheep intestines- a turkish specialty), with ayran for the first time, which was actually very very good. I also tried midye, mussels with rice and lemon squeezed over them, sold on almost every street from 9-1:00 am. Even better than kokoreç. I am going to miss this country.
That weekend was TOBB's festival, from Friday to Sunday, where I got to hang out with students, listen to Turkish music, play on a huge trampoline, and just generally goof off. I also learned how to dance Turkish-ly, which involves holding pinkies while standing in a circle, then stepping three times and sticking a foot out, (think bar mitzvah, not hokey-pokey), not to any particular beat. Then repeat. Sometimes the guy on the end twirls a napkin.

Since then, Alex and I brought our Muslim friends, who we hung out with on Easter, to church with us, and visited their mosque (camii, in Turkish, or "Mos-Q" when they pronounce it in English). I received declarations of undying love from two of my students, and played (life-size) chess for the last time with a good friend I'll leave behind. Alex and I taught two weeks of classes, after six weeks without, then had our last week off. We've spent time with a dozen different friends, saying goodbyes with picnics and giving away various things- our Brita water filter to one friend, the coffeemaker to another. We took photos, but not nearly enough.

I'll miss them, students and coworkers and friends. Teasing my students on their english, and hearing them roar with laughter when I try to chide them in Turkish- whether at my pronunciation or just the idea of me speaking their language, I don't know. I'll miss the woman who looks no older than I am, who cleans my desk and empties my trash every day, and the man (nicknamed Merhaba) who makes deliveries and has a constant smile. My officemates, Faruk joking and talking to me in rapid Turkish, and Nesrin smiling and complimenting me, and Nurcihan willing to listen to my petty complaints and act sympathetic, even when I didn't deserve it. Fatih, the much put-upon recordings person, with a full load of classes, two whiny native speakers, and a bit of a midlife crisis on top. And all the great people I've met or gotten to know over the last month- friends of the last native speakers, graduates, students at the real university, the daughter of a diplomat who lived in NYC for six years. Being temporary is one of the hardest experiences of my life- knowing that I'll leave, and no one here will expect to ever see me again. Undying love aside.


Turkish-style picnic with Engin & Ozlem- grilled lamb chops, kofte, chicken, veggies & garlic!



Some favorites: Kutay, and Sevket, Ömer, and Yusuf

Selçuk trying to murder me with a chess piece; and one of my prouder moments- beating Cağkan, mechanical engineer/chess wiz, at his own game

Islam on Easter, Annem (my mother) in Istanbul

Nearly a month! So much has happened. Easter was wonderful and unexpected- I listened to a bishop (I think? Someone important and Catholic with... well, rather gaudy robes) at mass, painted eggs with Alex, then had wonderful homemade manti with two of our students. I introduced them to peanut butter, and Alex's still-warm apple crisp, and we painted eggs, and watched an interesting video they brought us, a Muslim testimony by an Aussie. The girls asked us about the real meaning of Easter, and we explained everything. They showed us where the Quran mentions Miriam (the Virgin Mary), Gibrail (the angel Gabriel), Isa (Jesus), and several old testament prophets. We talked about faith, the differences and similarities. They also taught Alex and I how to put on headscarves- and giggled the whole time, clearly thrilled that we wanted to learn. It was wonderful to really sit down and hash out God and faith with girls my age, who believe just as sincerely in their lifestyle as I do in mine. No judgment, derision or defensiveness, just people trying to understand each other. I wish everyone could be so lucky.



The next Monday, Alex left in the morning and I took the overnight train into Istanbul to meet my mother. I caught the wrong ferry to the European side of Istanbul, got very lost, and walked for two hours before finding Taksim Square, the location of our hotel. My mother arrived that afternoon, and we took our things back to the hotel before going out. We spent six days in the city, mostly in Taksim and Sultanahmet- the historical area of the city, home to the Hagia Sophia, Blue Mosque, Covered Bazaar and other well-known places, and therefore a terrible tourist trap. I thoroughly enjoyed messing with the locals, most of whom know more English than my students, by replying in Turkish when they spoke to me in English. "Hello! How are you!" "Iyiyim! Siz nasilsiniz?" "O-ha! Turkce biliyorsunuz mi?" "Evet. Ben Ankara'dan!" (I'm good, how are you? - You know turkish? - Yes. I'm from Ankara!) Most of the vendors laughed uproariously at themselves before turning back and attempting to fleece the more-unsuspecting tourists.

A few highlights...
- Of course, the Ayasofya (Hagia Sophia) and the Sultanahmet Camii- know as the Blue Mosque because of its beautiful, individually handpainted Iznik tiles. Iznik, it might be noted, is a city in northwestern Turkey, once known as Nicaea- a name you might know from a famous Christian creed written in the same location.


- The Kapalıçarşı, or Covered (or Grand) Bazaar. We saw this on the same day as the Blue Mosque and Hagia Sophia, on a rather high-speed tour with Alex and her parents. The shops are tiny and claustrophobic, and the shopkeepers are boisterous and friendly, and experts at bargaining- which is both a sport and an art form here. One can buy trinkets of every genre: nargile (hookah, or "water pipes" as they have been translated into English), Iznik tiles, arabic calligraphy, beautiful chess and backgammon sets, jewelry, carpets, headscarves, lamps and pipes and mugs and lighters and more cheaply made knickknacks than I ever want to see again. Alex and I spent a good deal of time fending off the younger vendors, and arguing with the older ones. But between the two of us, we generally worked our way into the "Turkish price" range, rather than the tourist one, and most shopkeepers were so amused with us and our attempts at Turkish haggling (mainly "çok pahalı!" - too expensive!) that they cooperated. Overall, it was very fun- but after an hour or so I was more than ready to get out and breathe a little without being hollered at.
- Topkapı and Dolmabahçe Sarayı - two Ottoman palaces, both beautiful. We saw the main areas, where the sultans worked and lived, as well as the Harems- not exactly the brothel-like image conjured when one thinks of a harem, it was simply the area where the sultan's mother, wives, and younger children lived. Interestingly, the sultan's mother was completely in charge of his (and everyone else's) private life- her quarters were even located between his and his wives', so that she was aware of everything happening in her home. The Sultan may have ruled the Empire, but his mother ruled his bedroom. Not completely surprising, though- Turkish women are not to be messed with.
- Food! My mother got to try all my favorites, from iskender to doner to manti. And of course, the desserts... and not just baklava. It's a terrible shame that of all the fantastic pastries available in every corner shop in Turkey, the only one that's made it across the Atlantic is baklava- not to insult baklava, of course, but really... there's so much more! My mother also had türk kahvesi, turkish coffee, for the first time, in a cafe overlooking the Bosphorus. I introduced her to kahve falı, the tradition of coffee-grind fortunetelling.
- The Cathedral of St Antuan- St Anthony's, a functioning church very close to Taksim, where we attended mass on Sunday with Alex and her parents. The music was familiar, the mass was moving, and it was good for my mother- something the same as home, after a long week of foreign and sometimes frightening experiences. My mother also got to watch a Nigerian man attempt to pick up Alex (or me, or possibly her- he didn't seem to have a particular target) as soon as we left the church.

There were many other fun stories, from arguing football with a taksi driver- he liked Ankaraspor, clearly soft in the head- to the daily conversations with our hotel maid, a soft spoken Turkish man with a kind smile, to the absurd numbers of stray cats that amused my mother to no end, and the friendly stray dog that accompanied Alex and I back to her hotel one night, when a taksi dropped us off a bit further away then we might have liked at that hour of the night.

Our parents returned to the States on Monday morning, and Alex and I met up in Taksim, sat in a cafe for a bit, and decided to catch the hızlı tren, the high-speed train from Istanbul to Ankara, even though I had purchased a roundtrip ticket for the overnight train. We arrived in Eskisehir a little before ten, and while waiting in line to buy the connecting ticket to Ankara, our train left. Without us. So we were stuck waiting for the next train, which was not due to arrive until 3:30 am. Coincidentally, it was the train we would have taken, had we simply taken the overnight train back. Instead we spent over 15 hours in transit, including five hours of sitting in a train station, being stared at by three curious and mildly creepy security guards, and spent twice as much money on tickets. We arrived in Ankara at 7:30 on Tuesday morning, one hour before we were due at work.



A final note, regarding "work"- As of this week, Alex and I have not taught a single class for an entire month. I'd explain, but I need to go find a tissue and wipe up the atrophied gray matter dripping out of my ears.

Turkish Food: Part I

I only write part one because I am certain I will bore of this topic before I am even close to finished babbling about the awesomeness that is Turkish food. Ahem.

Döner: It's made by stacking beef (et) or chicken (tavuk) on an upright, rotating spit, and slicing off thin strips.

The strips are then put in a gyro-like sandwich, (bazlama) or thin bread, pressed panini-style (ekmek arası- literally "between bread"), or in a wrap with lettuce, cucumbers, tomatoes etc (dürüm). There are dozens of dishes prepared with döner, but my favorite is iskender. Iskender is when the döner meat is layered on a thick pita-like bread then slathered with tomato sauce and red pepper butter, and usually accompanied by roasted tomatoes and peppers. And it's amazing.

Yogurt is a common topping, which leads me to...

Yogurt: It's everyone's favorite condiment. Usually homemade, it's a little thicker than yogurt in the states- and when you (shamefully) buy it at the store, it comes in a huge tub. Think a little less than a gallon of yogurt. It's eaten on döner, pasta, any kind of meat, or solo- or if you're my roommate, by itself with garlic, salt, and hot sauce. It's far more versatile than I ever gave it credit for.

Pide: Think pizza. Now make it an oval shape with pointy ends, and about half the size of a large pizza. Subtract tomato sauce. Options are cheese, ground beef sprinkled on top, various veggies, or all of the above. Top with parsley and/or squeeze a fresh slice of lemon over it, slice into strips before eating. That's basically pide.


Köfte: Similar to a flattened meatball. You can buy it in various forms: patties, strips, chunks, you name it. It comes on sandwiches, or by itself with an assortment of veggies next to it- usually lettuce, shredded carrots, shredded beets, and patates tava (french fries). It's basically ground beef and spices, not bad by itself.

Kısır: Another of my favorites. It's made with bulgur, like the tiny pasta in couscous, plus tomato paste, spices, parsley, and slice cucumbers and other veggies. It's extremely good and healthy- and easy to make. A month or so ago three of our favorite students came to the apartment, arms filled with fresh groceries, and cooked it for us because Alex and I had mentioned we wanted to learn how. Of course, they wouldn't let us lift a finger, but we watched from a distance. The end result is delicious.


Mantı: Like ravioli, but better. It's basically a little square square of dough with a bit of meat in the center, and then the ends are pinched together. It's already cooked, so it's boiled just until it's warm/soft, then heated in the oven. Covered in garlic, spices, and yogurt, among other things.


Simit: Simit holds a special place in my heart. It's sold in carts on every corner in the metropolitan areas, like NYC hot dog vendors. It's also sold in the mornings by men who walk down the street balancing a board on their head, piled high with simit, as they holler "SIII-MIT! SI-MIIIIIT!" At six a.m. It's a bit like a thin bagel or untwisted pretzel, a loop of dense bread coated in sesame seeds. The circle is about six inches from end to end, and the bread itself is a cylinder from 3/4 to 1 1/2 inches in diameter. The best part is that it's very cheap, usually 3 simit for a lira in the morning, and as little as 7/lira by the late afternoon- as they get stale.


Ayran: A drink made of yogurt and water. They like it a lot, Marina adored it. I don't really get it. It comes in these funny sealed cups, and it's available everywhere from our cafeteria to nice restaurants.


Çay: "Chai"- plain black tea. Turkish people drink tea (or, godforbid, Nescafe) after most meals, as well as pretty much any time they're sitting still.
Like many things in Turkey, it can be delivered- whether you're sitting in a public park, working at a corner shop or teaching in a university, there's always someone running around offering çay to anyone within earshot.



....And as predicted, I'm bored. I'll think of more at some point, I'm sure.

Recent escapades include the discovery of a sweet bar/club/music scene, IF Performance Hall. It's not really a performance hall- closer to a glorified brick basement with a bar. But it's a good crowd and there's great live music, and a cheap cover charge. Alex and I saw Bedük, a fun Turkish techno artist who sings mainly in English, despite not speaking a word. We've met Mexican and Colombian volleyball players and various other expats, and were introduced to fun new music. Alex and I also finally made a trip to Ulus, the oldest part of Ankara, bought beautiful headscarves, and saw the remains of the Ogüst Tapınağı- a temple built in 200 BC as a tribute to the Phrygian gods, then rededicated to the Roman emperors (Ogüst meaning Augustus), then converted to a Christian church in 400 AD. In the early 15th century, the stones from the walls were used to build the mosque now standing adjacent- but one wall and entrance remains. We also climbed to the Citadel, claimed (in Phrygian lore) to have been built and founded by King Midas.

Wall of Ogüst Tapınağı


The Citadel, from a distance

The End of the Month

or,
Things I Cannot Afford Because I Am in College


Cause:
- Monthly income: roughly 500 YTL (Turkish New Lira) - equivalent: $300
- Irresponsible spending habits, including but not limited to a spontaneous flight to Istanbul

Primary Result:
- Running out of money before the end of the month
- Shopping list:
Light Bulbs
Toilet paper
Napkins
Hand soap
Dishwashing soap
Laundry Detergent
Tampons
Food
Snack food

Secondary Result:
- Three (out of nine) functioning light bulbs.
This means that when I arrive home after work, I must decide which rooms I want lit, and move the light bulbs accordingly. In the dark.
- Four girls, one week, zero toilet paper.
We are now using napkins and, courtesy of the Russians, what I think may be crepe paper. Like the kind you string up around the house on birthdays.
- Candle lit bathroom.
The bathroom is not occupied often enough to warrant a light bulb. Therefore, we go in the dark. And hope there's enough napkins.
- Four girls, five days, one travel-sized bottle of hand sanitizer.
You really don't want to think about this one for too long.
- Dish Rationing.
"Does this look dirty to you?" "Nah. Maybe a little greasy. Not dirty, per se..." "K. I'm gonna use it again."
- "Sniff tested" clothing.
Doesn't smell? Doesn't have any visible stains? Then who cares if it hasn't been washed in a month!
- ... Unnecessary-to-describe grossness.
- Four nights in a row of defrosted mantı (Turkish ravioli).
Also a dependence on potato-based meals that would make our Irish ancestors proud.
- Elevated levels of bitchiness due to hunger.



Update on the Russians:
In true Cold War fashion, we've outlasted them. Valentina left this morning, Marina left a few days ago. Alex and I have reconciled to the idea that we are each far too lazy to move all of our things. So we will continue to share a room, despite the two empty bedrooms.

A True Story

A usual Friday sees Alex and I leaving work early, usually around 1-2 pm, and either catching a ride with Ozlem, a student/friend who we enjoy spending time with and who has been kind enough to volunteer her vehicular servitude. Last Friday I caught a ride with Ozlem to Tunali Caddesi (street), while Alex went home and showered before meeting me there. I wandered up and down the street a bit before sitting down in Kuğulu Park, a pretty little park with a pond and ducks large enough to eat four year olds. Whole.

I've discovered that if I'm quiet, I get glances but not stares. I don't fit the Turkish archetype- I don't have enough of a fashion sense, for one, and I don't have large, fascinating eyes. As a general rule, Turks have dark hair and eyes every color imaginable- sky blue, turquoise, dark green, amber, navy blue- it can be almost unsettling, especially with the wide variety of skin tones. Anyhow, so although I don't look particularly Turkish, I don't really stand out. Until I open my mouth. But I was bored, and had nothing to do until Alex got to the park- and she was taking public transportation, which can be extremely unreliable. And slow. So I called Sarah- a close friend from home- and endured the staring. You can almost hear the wheels grinding as they try to dredge up long-forgotten high school/college English lessons and translate what I'm babbling about. Most people looked away after a few minutes, once they realized I was (intentionally) speaking very quickly and they couldn't keep up. A few yards away, taking obnoxiously touristy photos, was a couple- obviously foreign, although judging by appearance alone they could have been Turkish: dark skin, dark hair, on the shorter side. The woman was dressed a bit differently, wearing a brightly pattern tunic under her sweater and a matching loose head scarf, and I chuckled a bit as I noticed that she removed the scarf for every photo. Once I started talking on the phone, the woman looked over intently- realized I was speaking in English- and didn't look away.

As I tucked my phone into my jeans pocket, she made her way over to me.
"Foreigner?" she asked brightly. Her male companion listened from their bench, in the background.
"Yeah- American." I smiled. It's not usually a problem.
"Ohhh, really? That's very good. Very good. Are you here on holiday?" she reminded me of a small bird, moving and speaking quickly, but without making one feel rushed.
I explained, briefly, that I was a student in Boston, but working here for six months before returning to my studies- the co-op program in a nutshell. I told her I taught English at a university.
"Ahh, teaching English! Very important!" she went on to complain about how so few people speak English in Turkey, and it's been a real challenge for her- her cousin (the male companion), spoke fluent Turkish, but she couldn't speak a word.
"Really?" I asked. "So where are you from?"
"Oh, we are from Afghanistan." she chirped. "We are heart doctors."
"Wow- um- really? That's interesting," I stammered. "Uh, so why are you visiting Turkey? On holiday?"
"Oh, no," she shook her head. "We are here for a... to study angiography, at Umut hospital. We are learning to use an angiogram."
I learned, over the next hour, that Dr. Masooda was born in a village outside Kabul, and had always known she wanted to be a doctor or a teacher- to help people. She and her cousin were here at a workshop for angiograms because their hospital in Kabul had just received the first angiogram in the history of Afghanistan. She showed me Afghani money, and told me about her home. She loved Americans, and placed huge importance on the English language- "the international language," as she explained. She was frustrated the even in the medical and academic arena, the Turkish people dislike English on principle and show a great deal of obstinacy on the subject. I talked about my job, and how long I would be here, and my future goals- working in diplomacy, which excited her and Dr. Namat, her cousin, very much. I talked about studying Arabic, and Dr. Namat told me about how he learned Arabic in Pakistan. He could speak fluent Pashto (the main Afghani language), as well as English, Turkish, Arabic, and several other Afghani dialects, and he's always wanted to learn French. We talked about family, and laughed about the everyday absurdities one encounters as a foreigner in Turkey. In short, I got to know them.

It was getting dark, though, and they had to return to their hostels. We took photos together, each proud of meeting the other. Then Dr. Namat pulled out his cell phone- and asked if I'd like to get together again. Masooda chipped in, bribing me with offers of Afghani food, which I had never tried, and told me to bring Alex. I accepted, of course, and typed in my name and phone number. I've come to realize that no other culture can handle my name- I become "Kathy" to the French, and now "Karry" to the Afghanis, despite entering "K-a-t-i-e" into Namat's phone. But there are worse things to be called. They told me they wanted to get together on Monday -(talking talking talking)- no wait, on Sunday. I agreed, and promised to meet them in the same park at 10:00 Sunday morning.

Alex met up with me soon after, and I told her over dessert about my Afghani encounter, and that we were invited to meet them and their friends from the hospital on Sunday. She was as thrilled as I was, and we chattered excitedly about the cool possibilities of knowing people in Afghanistan- a possible future workplace for each of us.

Saturday morning we met up with an American friend at a cafe, and bartered our fabulous companionship for the delivery of two pints of sour cream. Alex is a sour cream fanatic, and Turkey hasn't yet discovered it- so this was a great deal. We talked, which is code for Alex and I took turns dominating the conversation, until I recieved a phone call from an unfamiliar number.
"Hello?"
"Kerry! This is Dr. Namat. Are you fine?" (They don't ask how I am, they ask if I am fine. Don't know why.)
"Hi Namat. Uh yes, yes I am fine. How are you?"
"I am fine! Are you in the park?"
"Uhm, no...?" I pause and check my phone. It's 11:30 AM- on Saturday. Not Sunday.
"Will you be in the park soon?" It's at this point that I realized that Pashto to Turkish to English, each with its corresponding word for "Saturday," isn't the most reliable form of communication. I didn't try to explain why I wasn't there on time, I just apologized, grabbed Alex and headed over. With two pint of sour cream in a plastic bag in her purse.

We went with Namat to Masooda's hostel, and then went with the two of them to their hospital for lunch. Yes, hospital food. Not as bad as expected. Then we visited their brother (they're cousins, but they both referred to Dr. Atikullah as their brother... another mistranslation. I hope.) and spoke to him about the future of Afghanistan and the importance of the angiogram they were to recieve. He's the Diplomatic Health Attache from Afghanistan to Turkey, and is newlywed to a Turkish woman- but has lived in the area for over a decade. After leaving there, we went on a walking tour of Ankara, lasting a few hours and ending the the Metro station, where Alex and I tried to make our exit. Not wanting to be impolite, as they clearly planned on keeping us around longer, Alex tried to explain that we needed to go home because she had a headache.

She explained this to two Afghani doctors.

Needless to say, other than making them a hover a bit closer, it was unsuccessful. They had promised to cook us dinner, and Afghani hospitality, we quickly learned, isn't so much an offer as an obligation. We eventually headed to Dr. Atikullah's home via public transit, which took us 45 minutes outside of Ankara... to a mountainside. We made conversation with Atikullah while Masooda and Namat made dinner, which they finished around 8 pm- by which time Alex and I were starved. I mean, barely-contained two-year-old hissy-fit famished. Almost-chewing-on-the-leather-chairs famished. It was not good times.

We ate at about 10 pm. After smelling the delicious, homemade Afghani and Turkish foods for over two hours. We ate on a spread on the floor, rice and a spinach-esque dip, pita bread and chicken and homemade yogurt (yes, homemade.) The center was a huge vegetable spread- carrots and cucumbers, lemons and tomatoes. I went for a cucumber slice, to be stopped as they poured salt over the whole thing. Cucumbers and carrots are actually quite good with salt- who knew? I wasn't daring enough to try the lemons, although Atikullah enjoyed them, biting into a round slice whole, as if it was a cookie. Salted.

After dinner we were shown a photo slideshow of Afghani villagers and their goats, at which point (after 11 pm), we were forced to take drastic measures to escape their hospitality. One faked phone call from a Russian and six million apologetic excuses later, we were out the door. They were disappointed, as they had assumed we'd spend the night. When we'd met them less than 24 hours before. But we were invited back as soon as we could make it, for more food and company.

And goat photos.

Istanbul (Not Constantinople)

The Turkish Top 20:
Things to remember when one takes a day trip to another continent

-Directions should be kept in the front pocket, not the back pocket, where they fall out.
-Do not give food to the stray cats that live in the train station, they get clingy.


-When buying roundtrip train tickets in a foreign language, remember the word for tomorrow. Do not confuse it with the word for yesterday. This rule may be suspended if you have a camera ready to capture the ticketer's expression.
-Kittens are the only animals that can sleep comfortably while intertangled in a cramped space, i.e. tiny upright train seats. Do not attempt, unless of course you truly enjoy not being able to turn your head to the left for the next 24 hours.
-Train, bus, and ferry stations, even in cities that are thousands of years old, are still pretty sketch.
-When faced with a decision between Nescafe and Starbucks, chose Starbucks. Endure the eyerolling of natives, because at least you know that whatever's in that cup was once related to a coffee bean.
-Just because a road looks like it should have a sidewalk on the map does not mean it does. Nor does it mean it is finished, and not, say, a forty foot under construction highway overpass with no railing.


-Expect detours and confusion.
-Do not expect logic, in any form, under any circumstances.
-If you plan to try the local delicacies, do not watch them being prepared. "Kokoreç" doesn't sound all that intimidating, despite its similarities to the English word "cockroach." Until you see them cleaning and roasting sheep intestine.
-Like an Escher painting or your grandfather's angry rants, it is possible to follow a route that is uphill both ways. I haven't figured out the physics, but I'm still certain we did it.


-When in doubt, follow the herd. Unless it's a herd of lemmings. Never follow lemmings.
-When security lets someone bring two unsearched shoulder bags and box theoretically containing a nargile (hookah) into the stadium, but takes your pocket lighter, you might not want to count on them for actual security.
-Football (soccer) stadiums are built to fit 50,000 raging lunatic fans, all of whom would die if someone even thought about screaming "fire."



-Drunken, celebratory football hooligans fall into the same category as lemmings.
-Do not give money to the stray children that live by the stadium, they get clingy.
-When in need of a guide, simply make eye contact with an underage local.* This is close enough to flirting and more than adequate encouragement for them to bop over and try to communicate. But good luck trying to ditch them after reaching the train station. (*Note: Only valid when used with underage males. DO NOT ATTEMPT otherwise.)
-Speaking in loud, rapid-fire English on the train will earn you dirty looks and dirtier come-ons from drunken middle-aged Turkish men.
-Try to stay out of the aisle as police officers come to escort away said drunken middle-aged Turkish men.
-When the train breaks down at 7:00 AM and you're supposed to be at work at 8:30, sleep through it to avoid homicidal interactions with train operators.
-When the train doesn't arrive at your destination until two hours later than it should have and you are forced to go immediately to work, unshowered and cranky, coffee is a completely reasonable first priority.


In other news, one of the Russians is leaving us in roughly a week. Not the Moldovan, whose name I finally learned via a sneaky, I-can't-spell-your-name-please-type-it-in-my-phone-with-you-phone-number scheme, (Valentina), but Marina- the one who speaks at least a little English. Not that she's been using it, as of recently our interactions have been limited to cutting each other in the shower line in the morning and blaming the language barrier... think Space Race, but less high-tech and more hygienic... but she's still capable of communicating. Valentina can't speak a word. Still. And I don't have the mental capacity to take on Russian. It's going to be an interesting few months.


Alex, Marina, and I

Classroom Antics

Hug your foreign language teacher today. And if you don't have one, borrow someone else's and hug them. And if you were ever one of those students who was too shy to speak, or tried to argue about grammar, or just zoned out all class- find your teacher, apologize, and beg for forgiveness. Don't get me wrong, I understand- I was one of those students. Especially during my three semesters of Arabic. And karma, my friends, is a bitch.

The assigned lesson plans over the past three weeks have been generic and terrible, but by this point Alex and I have gotten the hang of things a bit and are much better at coming up with activities on our own. Theoretically, we're supposed to check our "revised" lesson plans with the curriculum department before running them... but considering many of them are made up the night (or the 20 minutes) before our first class, we don't exactly have time. And we are easily the most poorly supervised instructors here. True, there's always a teacher in the room during our lessons, but they rarely know what our lesson plan is supposed to be and have no interest in whether we follow it or not- they're just happy to have a break and watch someone else fumble around in the front of the room.

Three weeks ago, Alex and I organized a lesson on slang- an idea that made several instructors very nervous, because apparently one of the former native speakers considered it wise to teach the students curses including, but not limited to, "m***erf***er." Right. We came up with a list of slang nouns, verbs, adjectives, and acronyms, all appropriate and very funny. Some things you wouldn't immediately think of as slang- "to throw up," "to dump/break up with," "to freak out," to name a few. Explaining "wingman," "to rob the cradle," "cup of joe," "TMI," and "sketchy" were the highlights of my week- and I also learned that "poh-poh" (the police), is Turkish slang for butt. Giggling all around. To make the class a bit easier to run, I organized a game. Splitting the class into four teams, I made four lists on the board- each with three nouns, one adjective, two verbs, one acronym, and occasionally an idiom- think "to bury the hatchet" or "to test the waters." Each team was responsible for their own list, and they were allowed to use dictionaries, the internet, and me as a resource. None of the teachers had any idea what these words were, and all of them took notes in class- which was very funny. As for the internet, I gave them the link to urbandictionary.com - the only problem being that some pages are blocked by the Turkish government's cybernanny. But that's a whole different rant. Once we had defined every word on the board, if there was extra time, I wrote a catchphrase for each team, explained them, and gave them a few minutes to create and then perform a conversation in which one team member correctly use the catchphrase. The ones I usually used were "Say what?" "True story," "B.t.dubs.," and if I was feeling especially cruel, "awkward turtle."

Two weeks ago, Alex and I devised a vocabulary card game. We created vocab cards and divided them into four different levels of difficulty, with matching point values (hardest=4 points, etc). I split each class in half, and one team member was asked to come up, pick up a card of his choice, and stick it to his forehead- without looking at it. His teammates then shouted out words to help him figure out what the word on his forehead was, and he had one minute to figure out as many words as possible. In one class, a student held up the word "sneezing"- and his entire team immediately pretended to sneeze, causing the befuddled student to respond "God bless you...?" A girl in another class picked up a word and held it to her forehead, and the whole class started laughing, and a few students took pictures with their cell phones. The word she had picked up was "stupid." The game was fun and most classes really enjoyed it- loudly enthusiastic, most students ended up out of their seats and all over the room by the end of the class.

My second week here, Fatih, the teacher with whom I do recordings, gifted Alex and I with thirty or so large, laminated, very detailed black and white photographs- stills from old movies, although the only ones I can name are the ones with Robert Redford or Dustin Hoffman in the photo. So this week, we finally used the photos- because the curriculum was absolute crap- and made the students, in small groups, create and then tell the story of what was happening in the photo. I've gotten some hysterical stories, twisted stories, some very creative ones, and one pair of girls who decided to make a political statement about their hatred for my home (thus my last brief post). Some students chose to act out their stories, others just told the story. After each story, to make them practice more than just reading a prepared story off a paper, I asked questions- about the locations, motives, history, and minor details of the story they told me. I pointed out logical fallacies, much to the amusement of their classmates, and picked apart the photograph itself. Basically, I was mean and nit-picky, but their responses were priceless. I could write a book with all the funny material they gave me, but here's a few plot outlines...
- A wife and daughter believe there are aliens in their backyard, the husband believes their "psychologies are do-da-deteriorating," so he decides to hold a garage sale, sell all their things, and use the money to buy a gun and kill them. Instead, though, he uses the money to build a car. His name was Henry Ford.
- Mafiosos cleaning their guns, preparing to go out and threaten a man who hasn't paid his debts- this one was acted out- leading to the line, "If you don't give our money, I will shoot your head!"
- A story involving a father who died, to which I asked "What did he die of?" "He cancer." "What kind of cancer?" I smiled. "Uh..." she paused, and other students tried to mumble answers for her. "Uh... si- sk- sick cancer!" (the helpful classmate had been saying "skin cancer"). After the class laughed a bit, she changed her mind. "No, was face cancer!" she said triumphantly.
- Several students, who chose a photo of an older chef serving a woman in a crowded restaurant, with a menu above them that listed (dollar) prices for common American foods. The students explained to me that it was not as it looked, and in fact the chef was a "serial killer" (read: assassin), and each menu item was code for a different death. Death by Kalashnikov was the cheapest, at $1.85- which really meant $1,850, they explained. And the hitman was serving food in the photo because two customers in the background were FBI agents trying to prove that it wasn't really a restaurant.
- And finally, today's highlight: a story about two workers in a marble quarry in 1929 who, influenced by literature from the Soviet Union, killed their employer and then went after the government. After killing every member of Parliament and the president, they set up a new government of the more intelligent workers, and the country benefited. When asked where the story took place, they said Boston. "A marble quarry in Boston?" I asked. "Uh, well, you go outside of the city" the group corrected themselves, at which point one of their classmates chipped in- "You make a right." And then, of course, I had to ask about the Parliament. In the US.