There are some definite differences working at a DODDs school in a foreign country. At this point, things that I at first thought were strange, I no longer even give any thought to. But every once in awhile, I still think, "this sure is different and kind of weird."
Here was my normal morning routine in the States...Leave the house and hope I'm early enough to stop at the Carribou Coffee drive-thru. If I was pressed for time, I could save a few precious minutes by 1)actually going inside rather than going through the drive-thru 2) ordering a regular coffee and not something fancy that required more time. Then, with coffee in tow, I would proceed to school, passing huge McMansions on nice, smooth new roads, with not much traffic. I would pull into my usual parking spot next to my friend, Karen, and head to my music room.
Here is my new routine in good ole Turkey (if I'm subbing). I head out the door with Tim with my empty coffee mug in tow (to be filled up at school because, horror or all horror, there are no coffee places on the way) and we pull our ridiculously heavy door shut hard, so we make sure it closes. We gingerly walk on our marble (I think, or something like it) walkway, hoping not to slip, and then proceed up a marble spiral staircase for a couple flights (really hoping not to slip). At the top of the stairs, we arrive on the street level and before walking to the car, we wave to the guard (who looks a bit disheveled from his night shift) and if it's a Turkish holiday (like yesterday-Turkish Republic Day) we dodge the giant Turkish flag that hangs right smack dab in the opening.
We walk down a bit to our car, which sits next to some of our other American neighbors' cars, in a carport type of thing. We pass some Turkish students in their school uniforms, people walking their giant dogs, and several giant pictures of Ataturk hanging from the various apartment buildings. We head to school, driving down a narrow, curvy road with cars parked on both sides of it, making it difficult for cars coming both ways to have enough space. As we wind our way through these neighborhoods, we pass little grocery stores (like mini 7-11's minus the slurpees), people headed to work (some in western clothes, some in more traditional Turkish clothes), and men carrying giant plates of simits (like thin bagels) on their heads, calling out to their customers. Sometimes these simit men will stand on the sidewalk next to a traffic light and people just roll down their window and buy their simits there. Well, I guess we do have some "drive-thrus" here in Turkey:)
We hang a left at the sign that says to "Balgat" and "Konya." We often hang a left on a red, which is ok to do here, and encouraged. After that, we find ourselves on a more major road with technically 3 lanes, but that quickly become about 5 lanes or so because, really, who cares about those lines painted on the road?:) We stay out of the right lane, mostly, because the public buses or school buses will just stop without warning to pick up their passengers.
After about 10 minutes, we've made it on to the base. We pull up, turn off the engine, pop the hood, roll the window down, and get our id ready to hand over. We exchange Good Mornings (in English or Turkish) with the guards, who know us pretty well at this point, while they look at our id's, check under the hood, in the trunk, and under the car. Then, they wave us on and tell us "Iyi gunler," or "have a good day." We drive slowly past the Turkish soldiers who are newbies and are marching in a formation, or the older higher-ups, with their more fancy uniforms.
Before driving onto the American part, we have to show our id's again. We know the guards here even better. They are usually pretty friendly and call me "Madame" and Tim "Teacher" or "Coach." Tim has played soccer with some of these guys. They let us pass, more "Iyi Gunlers" are exchanged and we park and head into school.
The kids at school are from all over, which keeps it interesting. I've always loved international schools. You get a lot of different perspectives coming into your classroom and you, even as the teacher, you end up learning a lot about other countries and cultures. Most kids speak 2 languages at the minimum. Many of their parents are pretty important. I walked into the lounge the other day and saw a parents who'd left his business card on the table. He was the "Second Secretary" for the Embassy of Uzbekistan. Our school is home to students from a lot of those countries you don't know much about. Those weird mixes of Soviet, Muslim, and Asian elements. Those "stan" countries. Some are more religiously conservative, some not so much. Many girls wear head coverings. Some struggle with the decision to or not to wear it. I think it is difficult for them in such a Western kind of environment. Often, many of the girls will start to wear the covering, then the next day not wear. They flip flop, trying to decide on their identity when they feel like they don't really belong anywhere.
It in the middle all of this exoticness, you'll see an American kid wearing a Redskins sweatshirt or Nationals t-shirt (I give those kids extra points:). That always makes me smile-just a little taste of home. Many of the kids actually moved here from Arlington, VA and we talk about our favorite restaurants from home and what schools they went to. There are several Georgians here too(both the state and the country) and that always makes Tim happy:) With them, there are other people with southern accents.:) It's funny how much the kids comment about Tim's accent. I'll ask them "Do you think Mr. Redden has a Southern accent," and they always give me an overwhelming "Yes!!" Tim is so good for those American kids who have moved around a lot. He can really relate to them, since he moved around a lot as a kid. That is a lot of why he was drawn to teaching for DODDs.
Sometimes in the middle of teaching, we'll hear "pop, pop, pop, pop." Just as I'm wondering what in the world that is, I remember it's the Turkish soldiers practicing on the shooting range. It is kind of weird because the shooting range is pretty close to us, so the sound is very loud. I'm usually the only one who flinches. The kids are so used to it,they don't even notice anymore.
For lunch, the middle school and high school kids have access to the BX or commissary for lunch. The commissary is like an American grocery store and the BX, is like a food court.
When school is over, everyone takes a bus, or their parents pick them up. There are no high schoolers driving themselves to and from school. Buses certainly aren't the big yellow ones we are used to in the States. They look more like vans.
Tim and I usually split up at the end of the day. I rush home to teach piano lessons, while he stays and works on his endless amount of stuff. I arrive home and the guard asks me how I am. Since I am no longer studying Turkish and using English all day long, I usually can't think of my answer quick enough. Lately, I've said some really ridiculous things in Turkish, thinking I've said the right thing. The guard usually laughs and I smile smugly thinking I've said something clever and he is amused by the fact I said it in Turkish. Au contraire. Several minutes later, it dawns on me what I've said I feel like an idiot. Here are 2 examples...
Guard: Nasilsiniz, Kate? (How are you, Kate?)
Me: Ben unutuyorum. (I forget)
Note: I meant to say "I'm tired," but I mixed up my verbs.
Guard: Nasilsiniz, Kate?
Me: Ben ilac. (I'm medicine)
I mixed up the word for medicine and sick. Oops.
Well, folks, time to wrap this entry up. This is way too long! Just wanted you to have sneak peak into parts of our day:) Things surely have changed!
Thursday, October 29, 2009
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
Lessons from Phil
Alright, everyone. I couldn't stay away from the sappy blogs for too long:) My dad emailed me this a few weeks ago. I think it is worth posting, as it reminds us all, to "put in in the bag." You'll see what I mean....
As Alan (our pastor) has begun a series on fear, I wanted to share a story from last week about my “special” friends, Phil and James. I need to give you a little background on them first. As most of you know, Phil and James are regular attendees. They both have some mental illness. I don’t know what their diagnosis is and they are both in the Loudoun County social services system.
Phil often tells me how much he enjoys worship on his way to Church. They give offerings to God as the plate is passed. Phil is very proactive during the services, clapping and raising his hands and making some beautiful sounds during the worship songs that only God understands. He is the one with the full beard, affectionately called Sasquatch by his friend and roommate, James. He will often come up to you and say “no more Mormon” if you can understand what he is saying. He went to their Church for awhile. Reiff baptized him several months ago in one of our services. He came out of the water with a thumbs up sign and you all clapped for him.
James was up front with me to light Phil’s candle during the Baptism. I specifically told him to not touch the matches and that I would light Phil’s candle. James proceeds to pick up the lighter and try to light all the candles that were unlit. I quickly panicked and told him to put the lighter down and surprisingly enough he listened. Never a dull moment. James is less demonstrative during the service. He sits quietly during the service and claps during the songs. He worked for Luck Stone for 15 years?, I think, before getting laid off a year ago. He is yet to find work.
I never really know what either one of them comprehends from the message. Alan’s message on fear Sunday was not discussed on the way home. We came back to the picnic which they thoroughly enjoyed. They both talk about their family here at this Church and how many friends they have here. On the way home from the picnic, James is asking me whether he will ever find work and will I take him in if he can’t afford his apartment. Phil is sitting in the back seat humming something. He hears our conversation up front and says something which I cannot interpret. He repeats it again twice and I still cannot understand what he is saying. He gets a little frustrated with me and tells James to interpret for me. That’s funny because I can hardly understand James either some times. James finally says, Phil says to “put it in the bag.”
I say what is it and what bag? Upon saying this, I immediately understood what he was saying. Alan’s sermon was about putting your fears in the bag and lifting your requests before God (Jame’s unemployment). After this, Phil says to James in a very optimistic, encouraging way, that God will take care of him. Isn’t that amazing? What an encouragement to me. God talks about coming to him with a childlike faith, like Phil. He understood exactly what God was saying thru Alan. What about you? What are the fears that keep you from being all that God intended you to be thru his Son, Jesus Christ. I look forward to this sermon series from Alan and the practical application demonstrated by our brother in Christ, Phil. Also, would you pray for a job for James.
Hope that is an encouragement to you today. Put it all in the bag.
As Alan (our pastor) has begun a series on fear, I wanted to share a story from last week about my “special” friends, Phil and James. I need to give you a little background on them first. As most of you know, Phil and James are regular attendees. They both have some mental illness. I don’t know what their diagnosis is and they are both in the Loudoun County social services system.
Phil often tells me how much he enjoys worship on his way to Church. They give offerings to God as the plate is passed. Phil is very proactive during the services, clapping and raising his hands and making some beautiful sounds during the worship songs that only God understands. He is the one with the full beard, affectionately called Sasquatch by his friend and roommate, James. He will often come up to you and say “no more Mormon” if you can understand what he is saying. He went to their Church for awhile. Reiff baptized him several months ago in one of our services. He came out of the water with a thumbs up sign and you all clapped for him.
James was up front with me to light Phil’s candle during the Baptism. I specifically told him to not touch the matches and that I would light Phil’s candle. James proceeds to pick up the lighter and try to light all the candles that were unlit. I quickly panicked and told him to put the lighter down and surprisingly enough he listened. Never a dull moment. James is less demonstrative during the service. He sits quietly during the service and claps during the songs. He worked for Luck Stone for 15 years?, I think, before getting laid off a year ago. He is yet to find work.
I never really know what either one of them comprehends from the message. Alan’s message on fear Sunday was not discussed on the way home. We came back to the picnic which they thoroughly enjoyed. They both talk about their family here at this Church and how many friends they have here. On the way home from the picnic, James is asking me whether he will ever find work and will I take him in if he can’t afford his apartment. Phil is sitting in the back seat humming something. He hears our conversation up front and says something which I cannot interpret. He repeats it again twice and I still cannot understand what he is saying. He gets a little frustrated with me and tells James to interpret for me. That’s funny because I can hardly understand James either some times. James finally says, Phil says to “put it in the bag.”
I say what is it and what bag? Upon saying this, I immediately understood what he was saying. Alan’s sermon was about putting your fears in the bag and lifting your requests before God (Jame’s unemployment). After this, Phil says to James in a very optimistic, encouraging way, that God will take care of him. Isn’t that amazing? What an encouragement to me. God talks about coming to him with a childlike faith, like Phil. He understood exactly what God was saying thru Alan. What about you? What are the fears that keep you from being all that God intended you to be thru his Son, Jesus Christ. I look forward to this sermon series from Alan and the practical application demonstrated by our brother in Christ, Phil. Also, would you pray for a job for James.
Hope that is an encouragement to you today. Put it all in the bag.
Here Piggy, Piggy, Piggy
Enough of my sappy posts...time for the Ankara news. Well, swine flu has hit us (and yes it does affect places where pork is not eaten:). Several of the other international schools here got swine flu before us and were promptly shut down. We had our first 2 cases (and so far the only ones) of it last week. There was quite a buzz around school. Some students were completely freaked out in the hallways and I found myself being the reassurer. Other students were still drinking from each other's water bottles and giving big kisses on the cheek and I found myself being the enforcer. Some of the embassies kept their healthy kids home because of fear of contracting the flu. Others took it in stride.
So, as of this week we are the only school that is open in the city of Ankara. Every other school has been shut down for the week (even schools without any swine flu). But, we are trudging along. Our kids are the only ones at bus stops in the morning. Our kids aren't on the basketball court at 11 a.m. or running around their apartments like crazy at 1 p.m. Nope, they are in algebra or art, chemistry or chorus. And all the while we are hoping none else gets this swine flu.
I think I'll go wash my hands now...:)
So, as of this week we are the only school that is open in the city of Ankara. Every other school has been shut down for the week (even schools without any swine flu). But, we are trudging along. Our kids are the only ones at bus stops in the morning. Our kids aren't on the basketball court at 11 a.m. or running around their apartments like crazy at 1 p.m. Nope, they are in algebra or art, chemistry or chorus. And all the while we are hoping none else gets this swine flu.
I think I'll go wash my hands now...:)
Monday, October 26, 2009
Friends, Family, Fireflies, and Songs
Good Morning all. It's a beautiful fall morning. I'm sitting at the table, looking out into the valley, looking into God's creation and listening to Sara Groves new cd, Fireflies and Songs. The vines that wrap around and climb our apartment building have turned a beautiful shade of fiery red. The roses are still in bloom. The sky is a beautiful blue and even makes the uglier apartment buildings look almost pretty against it. It is a quiet morning-no subbing for me. Just a chance to reflect on this beauty and God's encouragement and care.
My friend Micah called this morning. She is coming in a few weeks (from Montenegro) and I'm incredibly excited about that!!! I'm looking forward to a wonderful time of talking for hours over coffee (which, by the way, my friend Rebecca sent a great recipe for a pumpkin latte you can make in the crock pot!), walking around Ankara, and reconnecting with my dear friend. Right before Micah called, Sara Groves sang a song about peopel in our lives who make our lives "half as bad and twice as good." That has been incredibly true for me and this morning, I'm thankful for my friends and family and what they mean to me.
Sara Groves' new album was sent to me via Jill. I cannot put into words what a gift that was. Jill and I have bonded greatly over many a Sara Groves song-nodding our heads in agreement with her, harmonizing together and weeping as she touches the deepest part of us with her truthful and encouraging words.
It's funny how God knows how to comfort us or encourage us when we need it. I have been missing my friends and family terribly this week. Living overseas is exotic and an adventure, but it can be lonely sometimes, being so far from people you love. Poor Tim has had to endure a more emotional Kate this week (I'd like to add that he handles it incredibly well-knowing when to pass me a kleenex or make a joke). I am so thankful this morning for Jill sending me this music, for Micah calling me this morning, for Rebecca sending me a recipe for something she knows I will love, for talking to Rebecca (Tim's sister) last night and getting an update on Parker, for talking to my mom yesterday about everything I could think of, for emails from my brothers and sister-in-law (who said she missed hanging out with me), for emails from my dad that are both touching and hilarious, for Tim's mom sending us an old letter that his Granny sent him and his siblings when they were young (complete with illustrations), and for both our families checking in on us via email or phone just to see how we are doing. All these things are a blessing and encourage us as we go about our day. Thanks for making our lives "half as bad and twice as good." Love you all.
My friend Micah called this morning. She is coming in a few weeks (from Montenegro) and I'm incredibly excited about that!!! I'm looking forward to a wonderful time of talking for hours over coffee (which, by the way, my friend Rebecca sent a great recipe for a pumpkin latte you can make in the crock pot!), walking around Ankara, and reconnecting with my dear friend. Right before Micah called, Sara Groves sang a song about peopel in our lives who make our lives "half as bad and twice as good." That has been incredibly true for me and this morning, I'm thankful for my friends and family and what they mean to me.
Sara Groves' new album was sent to me via Jill. I cannot put into words what a gift that was. Jill and I have bonded greatly over many a Sara Groves song-nodding our heads in agreement with her, harmonizing together and weeping as she touches the deepest part of us with her truthful and encouraging words.
It's funny how God knows how to comfort us or encourage us when we need it. I have been missing my friends and family terribly this week. Living overseas is exotic and an adventure, but it can be lonely sometimes, being so far from people you love. Poor Tim has had to endure a more emotional Kate this week (I'd like to add that he handles it incredibly well-knowing when to pass me a kleenex or make a joke). I am so thankful this morning for Jill sending me this music, for Micah calling me this morning, for Rebecca sending me a recipe for something she knows I will love, for talking to Rebecca (Tim's sister) last night and getting an update on Parker, for talking to my mom yesterday about everything I could think of, for emails from my brothers and sister-in-law (who said she missed hanging out with me), for emails from my dad that are both touching and hilarious, for Tim's mom sending us an old letter that his Granny sent him and his siblings when they were young (complete with illustrations), and for both our families checking in on us via email or phone just to see how we are doing. All these things are a blessing and encourage us as we go about our day. Thanks for making our lives "half as bad and twice as good." Love you all.
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
Ode to Fall, An Escape from Fear
I have never been a lover of fall. So many people I know choose fall as their favorite season, but I have always had negative associations with it. For me, fall always signified the end of summer, the beginning of work, the coming of winter. Fall made me anxious when I thought about. I think it all goes back to being a student and being anxious about the begining of school. Who would I sit with at the lunch table? Would I be able to handle a heavier course load? Would I be in classes with my friends? Would I have a homecoming date?? I'm not kidding about the homecoming date thing. I would always be really worried about that and even after college, I still carried that subconscious fear with me, though there were no more Homecoming dances to attend.
Even after I started teaching I had a slight dread of fall. Would I like the new teachers on the staff? Would I have the same lunch time as my good friend, Karen? Would my new principal like me? Would my shows be good this year? Would I get along with the new itinerant music teacher? Fall signified returning to a very, very busy and tiring schedule and getting up early again, something I've always hated. Fall marked a significant change and change, for me, is hard and a cause of anxiety.
When I started this blog, I thought it would be a short little blog about how I went from fearing fall to loving it. I thought it would be a blog filled with anecdotes about me asking if they sold Pumpkin Spice lattes at the Ankara Starbucks and attempting my first apple pie. Instead, I sat here drinking my Oregon Chai latte and thinking about the idea of fear and anxiousness and how it prevents us from enjoying so much and moving ahead.
I meant to write a blog on that several weeks ago as a follow-up to my blog on "reinventing oneself." I talked about being in Turkey and having to define myself with new roles and putting away old ideas of who I was. Last year I was not so successful on the "reinvention of Kate," but I said I was determined this year to embrace my new life here and reinvent myself. So, why is is so hard for me to reinvent myself, so hard to change, and welcome new things? Fear, my friends. Fear.
I am, by nature, a worrier-I come by this honestly. I'm the person on the plane saying to my husband, "What was that?? Do you think that was normal?" I'm the person who is worried all day about maybe having left a straightening iron on (thanks, dad-and I don't think that straighteners are the #1 cause of home fires). I'm the person who almost makes herself sick because she's afraid she offended someone accidentally by something she said to them earlier that day. I'm the person who worries about doing a great job, who worries about looking good, who worries about people's perception of her. I'm a worrier through and through and I fear a lot. That's the truth of it. I'm a fearful person.
And it is that fear that prevents me from enjoying new things that come my way (new jobs, new friends, new opportunites). It is fear that prevents me from enjoying and embracing the things that God has in store for me-new things, things out of my comfort zone, unexpected things.
Rather than trying to think of my own profound thing to say on fear, I'll close this out by reminding myself that God says, "Fear not!" He says: For I am the LORD, your God, who takes hold of your right hand and says to you, Do not fear; I will help you.
Ok, Lord. I'm going to embrace the new things You have for me. And by "embrace" I mean I'm going to hold Your hand tightly and let you lead me forward, despite my fear, despite my worry.
I might even learn to love fall along the way. Having a permanent "Homecoming Date" certainly doesn't hurt:)
Even after I started teaching I had a slight dread of fall. Would I like the new teachers on the staff? Would I have the same lunch time as my good friend, Karen? Would my new principal like me? Would my shows be good this year? Would I get along with the new itinerant music teacher? Fall signified returning to a very, very busy and tiring schedule and getting up early again, something I've always hated. Fall marked a significant change and change, for me, is hard and a cause of anxiety.
When I started this blog, I thought it would be a short little blog about how I went from fearing fall to loving it. I thought it would be a blog filled with anecdotes about me asking if they sold Pumpkin Spice lattes at the Ankara Starbucks and attempting my first apple pie. Instead, I sat here drinking my Oregon Chai latte and thinking about the idea of fear and anxiousness and how it prevents us from enjoying so much and moving ahead.
I meant to write a blog on that several weeks ago as a follow-up to my blog on "reinventing oneself." I talked about being in Turkey and having to define myself with new roles and putting away old ideas of who I was. Last year I was not so successful on the "reinvention of Kate," but I said I was determined this year to embrace my new life here and reinvent myself. So, why is is so hard for me to reinvent myself, so hard to change, and welcome new things? Fear, my friends. Fear.
I am, by nature, a worrier-I come by this honestly. I'm the person on the plane saying to my husband, "What was that?? Do you think that was normal?" I'm the person who is worried all day about maybe having left a straightening iron on (thanks, dad-and I don't think that straighteners are the #1 cause of home fires). I'm the person who almost makes herself sick because she's afraid she offended someone accidentally by something she said to them earlier that day. I'm the person who worries about doing a great job, who worries about looking good, who worries about people's perception of her. I'm a worrier through and through and I fear a lot. That's the truth of it. I'm a fearful person.
And it is that fear that prevents me from enjoying new things that come my way (new jobs, new friends, new opportunites). It is fear that prevents me from enjoying and embracing the things that God has in store for me-new things, things out of my comfort zone, unexpected things.
Rather than trying to think of my own profound thing to say on fear, I'll close this out by reminding myself that God says, "Fear not!" He says: For I am the LORD, your God, who takes hold of your right hand and says to you, Do not fear; I will help you.
Ok, Lord. I'm going to embrace the new things You have for me. And by "embrace" I mean I'm going to hold Your hand tightly and let you lead me forward, despite my fear, despite my worry.
I might even learn to love fall along the way. Having a permanent "Homecoming Date" certainly doesn't hurt:)
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
Subbing
Hello again, everyone! I've been away for a bit because I couldn't access our blog site. Very frustrating!
While I've been gone, I've been subbing a ton at school. Including me, there are only 2 subs for the whole K-12 school. So, needless to say, I have a lot of work! This is good, but it makes it hard to plan my schedule. Often I don't know what my week will hold. Sometimes I don't find out I'm subbing until the morning of. Last Monday I was still in my pajamas when the school secretary called to see if I could come in. After I hurriedly got dressed, slapped on some make-up, so as not to frighten the students, I learned my lesson and now I get up with Tim and get ready, just in case. It's good for me, either way, to have a schedule.
Subbing has been kind of a love/hate thing for me lately. It's very strange to teach and have your own classroom for 10 years, and then become a sub. When you walk in a teacher's room, you don't really know their expectations, their subjects (I told the Spanish class last week that I only knew 2 Spanish words: hola and Speedy Gonzales), or the students. I find myself frustrated because I often feel like a babysitter and don't feel like I do as good of a job as I would like. The high schoolers are a whole new world to me. I'm an elementary teacher through and through. I understand little kids, I feel comfortable with them, I know how to teach them. With the high school classes, it's hard to quickly gauge a class and figure out who is telling the truth and who is making up "Mr. Such and Such let's us do open book tests." Well, that's a pretty easy one to figure out, but sometimes it's a fine line between being too strict and too nice. You don't want to be unreasonable, but you don't want to be a sucker either.
As with any kind of teaching, there are always funny things the kids say. I used to keep a book of my favorite quotes, but in the last couple years I've stopped doing that. I think I should start again. Here are a couple gems from this last week...
-from a high school student in the cooking class: "Mrs. Redden, this recipe calls for evaporated milk. If it's evaporated, what's the point?"
-from a kindergartner: "You know, I really just don't want to go to school."
-another from a kindergartener who really missed his mom: "I hope the angels don't remind me about my mom while I'm at lunch." My response: "I think the angels will leave you alone while you eat"
-another kindergartner: The teacher was passing out pretzel sticks for snack and this particular child said, "Are these vegetarian?"
-from AP European History: Student 1-"When they talk about how the "Christian Church" was effected in the Reformation, do they mean the Catholic Church? Student 2- "Yeah, the Catholic Church. Isn't that the whole point of the Reformation?"
-an answer from a biology student: The worksheet was fill-in-the blank and said, "When humans sweat, heat causes _______________. The answer was evaporation, but the student wrote sweating.
-one from Tim's class: Tim asked one 6th grader which name he preferred to be called, his official name or his nickname. He said, "Just call me Mr. A." Needless to say, that didn't fly with Mr. Redden.
-a general comment I get: "Oh! You're Mr. Redden's wife." This in itself isn't that funny, but I always want to say, "Haven't you seen the gigantic picture of me that Mr. Redden blew up and put at the front of his room?? You can't miss it!"
Well, I certainly am learning a lot, though. In the past week and a half, I've "taught" Spanish, Biology, Chemistry, Study Skills, kindergarten, art, cooking, and AP European History. I heard today the cooking classes took whole chickens and cut them up, apparently with lots of guts and gore. I'm really thankful I did not have to sub for that class because as I have stated before, I'm already pretty close to becoming a vegetarian, with the exception of cheeseburgers. Who knows what my subbing future holds? I will definitely keep you posted on my adventures (which I'm hoping will take place more in the elementary classroom.)
While I've been gone, I've been subbing a ton at school. Including me, there are only 2 subs for the whole K-12 school. So, needless to say, I have a lot of work! This is good, but it makes it hard to plan my schedule. Often I don't know what my week will hold. Sometimes I don't find out I'm subbing until the morning of. Last Monday I was still in my pajamas when the school secretary called to see if I could come in. After I hurriedly got dressed, slapped on some make-up, so as not to frighten the students, I learned my lesson and now I get up with Tim and get ready, just in case. It's good for me, either way, to have a schedule.
Subbing has been kind of a love/hate thing for me lately. It's very strange to teach and have your own classroom for 10 years, and then become a sub. When you walk in a teacher's room, you don't really know their expectations, their subjects (I told the Spanish class last week that I only knew 2 Spanish words: hola and Speedy Gonzales), or the students. I find myself frustrated because I often feel like a babysitter and don't feel like I do as good of a job as I would like. The high schoolers are a whole new world to me. I'm an elementary teacher through and through. I understand little kids, I feel comfortable with them, I know how to teach them. With the high school classes, it's hard to quickly gauge a class and figure out who is telling the truth and who is making up "Mr. Such and Such let's us do open book tests." Well, that's a pretty easy one to figure out, but sometimes it's a fine line between being too strict and too nice. You don't want to be unreasonable, but you don't want to be a sucker either.
As with any kind of teaching, there are always funny things the kids say. I used to keep a book of my favorite quotes, but in the last couple years I've stopped doing that. I think I should start again. Here are a couple gems from this last week...
-from a high school student in the cooking class: "Mrs. Redden, this recipe calls for evaporated milk. If it's evaporated, what's the point?"
-from a kindergartner: "You know, I really just don't want to go to school."
-another from a kindergartener who really missed his mom: "I hope the angels don't remind me about my mom while I'm at lunch." My response: "I think the angels will leave you alone while you eat"
-another kindergartner: The teacher was passing out pretzel sticks for snack and this particular child said, "Are these vegetarian?"
-from AP European History: Student 1-"When they talk about how the "Christian Church" was effected in the Reformation, do they mean the Catholic Church? Student 2- "Yeah, the Catholic Church. Isn't that the whole point of the Reformation?"
-an answer from a biology student: The worksheet was fill-in-the blank and said, "When humans sweat, heat causes _______________. The answer was evaporation, but the student wrote sweating.
-one from Tim's class: Tim asked one 6th grader which name he preferred to be called, his official name or his nickname. He said, "Just call me Mr. A." Needless to say, that didn't fly with Mr. Redden.
-a general comment I get: "Oh! You're Mr. Redden's wife." This in itself isn't that funny, but I always want to say, "Haven't you seen the gigantic picture of me that Mr. Redden blew up and put at the front of his room?? You can't miss it!"
Well, I certainly am learning a lot, though. In the past week and a half, I've "taught" Spanish, Biology, Chemistry, Study Skills, kindergarten, art, cooking, and AP European History. I heard today the cooking classes took whole chickens and cut them up, apparently with lots of guts and gore. I'm really thankful I did not have to sub for that class because as I have stated before, I'm already pretty close to becoming a vegetarian, with the exception of cheeseburgers. Who knows what my subbing future holds? I will definitely keep you posted on my adventures (which I'm hoping will take place more in the elementary classroom.)
Thursday, September 10, 2009
A Tale of Drums and Canons
Like I said in the previous blog, in Beypazari, we stayed in this beautifully restored, huge Ottoman house. When we got back to our room after a long day climbing hills and shopping, we were exhausted! We fell asleep around 9:30 or 10. Well, I should say Tim fell asleep around that time. I was wide awake due to the hoard of children playing hide and go seek on the street below our windows (and since there was no AC, we had to have all the windows open). This went on until after midnight. The kids here are not back in school, yet, so they were free, apparently, to do whatever they wanted however late they wanted. They were yelling, carrying on, and making me madder by the minute. I finally got to sleep after midnight and was sleeping peacefully until I was woken up by a loud banging sound around 3 or so. Hmmm...it was still dark outside. What in the world was that? My initial reaction was fear because the sound was unknown to me and was occuring in the middle of the night in a town I wasn't familiar with. The sound started getting louder and closer. I then figured out there was a pattern to the sound. It was like a bass drum was playing. My next reaction was to figure out the rhythm this guy was playing. Let's see...the first couple measures were syncopated and the last one was a triplet. Ahhh! Ridiculous that I was doing rhythmic dicatation in my head at 3 in the morning. Who the heck was this guy?? Then I remembered a book I read about different ex-pats experiences in Turkey. I remembered this one lady who had moved to Cappadocia and had gone to the trouble of buying new Ramadan drums for the village. Ah ha! Ramadan drums. That was it!!! Now I remembered. A man goes around the village, beating a huge drum very loudly, in order to wake all the people up before the sun comes up. That way, they can have one more meal before sunrise. Because after sunrise, there's no food or water til the sun goes down! I peaked out the window when he was on our street to see him. He was wearing a big drum over his shoulders on his front, just pounding away. I was pleased to have figured this out, but not so thrilled that he banged for another hour. I finally fell back asleep, only to be awoken by the firing of a canon. Good grief! What in the world!??! Oh, yeah. That was the signal that the sun was officially up. We had heard the same shot the evening before to signal that the sun had gone down.
The next morning and really the whole next day, I was exhasuted. The children, drum, and canon had kept me up, preventing my sleep. But you know what?? I'm really glad we were in Beypazari to experience these cultural traditions. In Ankara, the big city, we sometimes get a watered down version of culture. Often Turkish culture is intermingled with European, modern trends and often we are in engrossed in our own American community. But in the small historic village of Beypazari, the preservation of history and culture is alive and well.
A little addendum... I once heard a story that my husband slept through an entire hurricane. Though I knew he was a pretty heavy sleeper, I thought that was hard to believe. Well, I don't question that story anymore because that boy slept through screaming children, bass drums, and canons without moving a muscle. I guess when we have kids I'll be the one getting up in the middle of the night!
The next morning and really the whole next day, I was exhasuted. The children, drum, and canon had kept me up, preventing my sleep. But you know what?? I'm really glad we were in Beypazari to experience these cultural traditions. In Ankara, the big city, we sometimes get a watered down version of culture. Often Turkish culture is intermingled with European, modern trends and often we are in engrossed in our own American community. But in the small historic village of Beypazari, the preservation of history and culture is alive and well.
A little addendum... I once heard a story that my husband slept through an entire hurricane. Though I knew he was a pretty heavy sleeper, I thought that was hard to believe. Well, I don't question that story anymore because that boy slept through screaming children, bass drums, and canons without moving a muscle. I guess when we have kids I'll be the one getting up in the middle of the night!
Wednesday, September 9, 2009
Beypazari II- A Study in Fashion and Feminine Power
Ok, picking up where I left off...
We arrived in the town of Beypazari Sunday afternoon. It just kind of came out of nowhere. The village was hiding inbetween two ridges, nestled there, as it had been for hundreds of years. We parked and started exploring the small town. I quickly realized the cute gold shoes I had on were not practical for navigating the cobblestone streets and steep hills, so the brown Merrell hiking shoes were donned instead. The cobblestones, though not conducive to the cute shoes, were so lovely and made the town look like something out of a Brothers Grimm story. Along these streets were lovely preserved houses in the Ottoman style-white stucco walls with deep brown wooden window and door frames. Many of these houses had window boxes filled with flowers or basil. Some of the houses also had strings of green, red, and orange peppers hanging across their windows and iron rod hand rails. Absolutely gorgeous! I bought some of those peppers and am not sure whether I want Tim to grill them or string them up on our back porch!
Let me add that, as we walked along, all eyes were on us-more so than in Ankara. Ankara is a pretty international city so when a Turk sees a yabanci (foriegner) it's not quite as big of a deal as when you go to a small town. There was no hiding in this town. I'm sure the two yellow-haired yabanci were the talk of the town. The people in this town were more traditional, which meant it was especially hard to blend. More ladies were covered than what we usually see, (except for the other Turkish tourists who were wearing jeans and tight tops). Now, when I say "covered" I don't mean they're dressed in all black, with only their eyes visible. Many times the older women wear brightly colored floral fabrics. They have a huge piece of fabric covering their hair, but not their face. It makes them look more like peasant women, as it is often tied or pinned under their chin. They also wear these strange kind of MC hammer-style pants. They are very, very loose flowy fabric pants that taper at the ankle. These are often worn with socks and plastic slip-on sandles. What I like about these ladies is that they are colorful! They are just walking explosions of color and pattern!
Some of the younger women wear silk head scarfs, in a slightly different style. They also wear long coats that come down to their feet and have long sleeves. The coats are usually khaki or denim. These women don't usually wear the plastic sandles, but a more sturdy shoe, like a boot. I met a woman dressed like this in one of the silver shops. There are tons of silver shops here and they are especially known for their filigree work. We wandered in this lady's shop one evening and before I knew it necklaces and bracelets and earrings were being put on me. I immediately liked this lady because she was a woman shop owner! You don't often see too many of those in the small towns. She had my business immediately, because I wanted to support a fellow female! The phrase "woman power" was going through my head as I silently cheered her on. I broke out my Turkish, which surprised her, her young son, and her friend. They told me my Turkish was good (it's not, but what a confidence boost!). It was really fun trying to communicate with them, especially since I haven't spoken Turkish that much since we went home to the States. Her son was taking English, so Tim and I practiced English with him, which he seemed very amused by. A little later, I finally settled on a beautiful silver flower necklace and a silver bracelet. The price was unbelievably cheap! She packaged it up, while I was trying to talk to her in Turkish. I took the package of jewelry, while vigorously shaking her hand and thanking her. I was so pleased with myself. I heard her laugh and thought she amused by something witty I had said in her language. And then I noticed her grip was still on my hand, a little tighter. I looked down and there was my 50 lira, still in my hand. In all my effort to remember Turkish nouns and verbs, I had never handed over the money. She was laughing because of this and trying to pry it out of my hand. I was kind of embarassed, but then laughed myself.
I never know where my blogs are going to go. This one seems to have been dedicated to women (I write the blog titles after I finish writing them). My original idea was to tell you about Ramadan. Don't worry, though...that's too good of a story to let go. That will be for next time. So, let me try and close this blog out. I think we as westerners try and put all middle easterners in a box. When I say "covered woman" people usually think of one thing-a burka. The fact is that Islam can take many forms, like Christianity can. Some people are more legalistic, some more liberal. Some people wear dull colored head scarves, some wear every color of the rainbow. I realized that as I looked around this small town and saw, even within it, a variety of ways people express themselves and their faith. You really can never lump everyone together. One of the best parts of living in another country is that you have have the time to really learn about and experience a culture. You have the time to visit different parts of the country and see how the people vary. You get more of the whole picture, rather than just a snapshot. And because of that, you're less likely to start "lumping." Instead, you start learning.
We arrived in the town of Beypazari Sunday afternoon. It just kind of came out of nowhere. The village was hiding inbetween two ridges, nestled there, as it had been for hundreds of years. We parked and started exploring the small town. I quickly realized the cute gold shoes I had on were not practical for navigating the cobblestone streets and steep hills, so the brown Merrell hiking shoes were donned instead. The cobblestones, though not conducive to the cute shoes, were so lovely and made the town look like something out of a Brothers Grimm story. Along these streets were lovely preserved houses in the Ottoman style-white stucco walls with deep brown wooden window and door frames. Many of these houses had window boxes filled with flowers or basil. Some of the houses also had strings of green, red, and orange peppers hanging across their windows and iron rod hand rails. Absolutely gorgeous! I bought some of those peppers and am not sure whether I want Tim to grill them or string them up on our back porch!
Let me add that, as we walked along, all eyes were on us-more so than in Ankara. Ankara is a pretty international city so when a Turk sees a yabanci (foriegner) it's not quite as big of a deal as when you go to a small town. There was no hiding in this town. I'm sure the two yellow-haired yabanci were the talk of the town. The people in this town were more traditional, which meant it was especially hard to blend. More ladies were covered than what we usually see, (except for the other Turkish tourists who were wearing jeans and tight tops). Now, when I say "covered" I don't mean they're dressed in all black, with only their eyes visible. Many times the older women wear brightly colored floral fabrics. They have a huge piece of fabric covering their hair, but not their face. It makes them look more like peasant women, as it is often tied or pinned under their chin. They also wear these strange kind of MC hammer-style pants. They are very, very loose flowy fabric pants that taper at the ankle. These are often worn with socks and plastic slip-on sandles. What I like about these ladies is that they are colorful! They are just walking explosions of color and pattern!
Some of the younger women wear silk head scarfs, in a slightly different style. They also wear long coats that come down to their feet and have long sleeves. The coats are usually khaki or denim. These women don't usually wear the plastic sandles, but a more sturdy shoe, like a boot. I met a woman dressed like this in one of the silver shops. There are tons of silver shops here and they are especially known for their filigree work. We wandered in this lady's shop one evening and before I knew it necklaces and bracelets and earrings were being put on me. I immediately liked this lady because she was a woman shop owner! You don't often see too many of those in the small towns. She had my business immediately, because I wanted to support a fellow female! The phrase "woman power" was going through my head as I silently cheered her on. I broke out my Turkish, which surprised her, her young son, and her friend. They told me my Turkish was good (it's not, but what a confidence boost!). It was really fun trying to communicate with them, especially since I haven't spoken Turkish that much since we went home to the States. Her son was taking English, so Tim and I practiced English with him, which he seemed very amused by. A little later, I finally settled on a beautiful silver flower necklace and a silver bracelet. The price was unbelievably cheap! She packaged it up, while I was trying to talk to her in Turkish. I took the package of jewelry, while vigorously shaking her hand and thanking her. I was so pleased with myself. I heard her laugh and thought she amused by something witty I had said in her language. And then I noticed her grip was still on my hand, a little tighter. I looked down and there was my 50 lira, still in my hand. In all my effort to remember Turkish nouns and verbs, I had never handed over the money. She was laughing because of this and trying to pry it out of my hand. I was kind of embarassed, but then laughed myself.
I never know where my blogs are going to go. This one seems to have been dedicated to women (I write the blog titles after I finish writing them). My original idea was to tell you about Ramadan. Don't worry, though...that's too good of a story to let go. That will be for next time. So, let me try and close this blog out. I think we as westerners try and put all middle easterners in a box. When I say "covered woman" people usually think of one thing-a burka. The fact is that Islam can take many forms, like Christianity can. Some people are more legalistic, some more liberal. Some people wear dull colored head scarves, some wear every color of the rainbow. I realized that as I looked around this small town and saw, even within it, a variety of ways people express themselves and their faith. You really can never lump everyone together. One of the best parts of living in another country is that you have have the time to really learn about and experience a culture. You have the time to visit different parts of the country and see how the people vary. You get more of the whole picture, rather than just a snapshot. And because of that, you're less likely to start "lumping." Instead, you start learning.
Monday, September 7, 2009
A Little R&R in Beypazar
Did you catch that my title rhymed? Just checking to make sure you're paying attention:) Tim and I (especially Tim) were defintely in need of some r&r. We were in need of some time away from school stuff and in need of time together. There hasn't been a whole lot of it lately. School has been all-encompassing and Tim has been working until 8 most nights and working weekends. So we made a decision to go somewhere for Labor Day weekend and Beypazar is where we landed.
I didn't know much about Beypazar, a village about an hour from Ankara, other than it was on the historic silk road and it was famous for silver and carrots. Sounded like my kind of town. We left after church on Sunday. As we headed out of Ankara, I was reminded once again of this stark part of Turkey we live in-the Anatolian Plain. When I'm in the city surrounded by tall buildings and lots of trees and other greenery, I forget what lies outside the city limits. While there are flat parts, there are lots of ridges-not hills, exactly, not mountains. But pretty tall peaks that are gray or brown, occasionally dotted with sparse trees. Tim finds it beautiful in its own way, I find it somewhat frightening (I don't know why-I think it's that you can see for miles and miles without seeing much of anything and there's not much green) and wonder why in the world Ataturk would have picked this part of Turkey to put his new capital in. My mom read this book about Pioneer women once-those brave souls who ventured west in covered wagons with their husbands. They often stopped in some incredibly flat state and set up a home. There was nothing for miles and miles. No people, no towns, just land. A lot of these women eventually went crazy just looking at the vast endless space. For some reason I always think about that as we get out of Ankara. Now, I'm not going to go crazy as we travel in this part of the country, I'm just saying that I have that same feeling-almost overwhelmed by the vastness of nothing. I'm more of a green, rolling hills kind of VA girl. I think there's something promising about a green hill-something lush and life-giving. I'm learning, though, that there is beauty in this landscape, too. It is life-giving too, yielding beautiful fruits and vegetables, hay, animals-all providing for the people who live here.
Interspersed between the browns and grays, though, there were beautiful patchwork fields. Patches of parsley-beautiful, mossy green carpets. There were fields of tomatoes, beautiful Ayas tomatoes, named for this region and known for the sweetness and deliciousness. There were beautiful eggplant, oblong purple gems, and huge glowing orange carrots that would make Peter Rabbit jealous. All of this beautiful produce, after it was picked, was housed in little huts made of corn husks and straw, manned by cheerful, rotund peasant women in flowery headscarfs and little spritely, business-savy children who looked as if they had been in the sun all summer.
There were also golden fields of hay or straw. We couldn't figure out if they were growing it or had covered the fields in this. You know you hear those songs about "golden fields against an azure sky" or "fields of gold," that's excactly what these fields looked like. After the grays and browns and stark peaks, the golden fields were a welcome sight, catching the light and playing against the blue of the sky.
Sometimes we would be coming up upon a hill that looked like it was covered in big, white rocks, only to find they were sheep or goats that were lying very still, just sunning themselves. There were enough to cover a whole hill, from the top, all the way to the bottom, near the road.
Now, let me say that as I was more of the observer during this whole trip since Tim was driving. He couldn't look very carefully at anything but the road. The roads can be really terrible here-tons of huge potholes, road work, and every changing road patterns. Several people have told us that there is money to fix the roads temporarily, but never enough money to fix them for the long-term. The result is that there is always road work. We had to be careful to follow the signs, to make sure we were in the correct lane, since those were always shifting. I'm always glad Tim is the one driving. Strangely enough, he enjoys the driving here. I'm very content to sit in the passenger seat, be the pot-hole lookout, take in the scenery, and contemplate what my next blog entry will be about.
Well, looks like the Bepazar trip will have to be divided into 2 entries as I have gotten carried away with talking about the landscape. I guess I fancy myself the next Willa Cather. So...stay tuned for more on Beypazar-where 2 yabangi (foreigners) get into danger and trouble in a small Turkish town. Ok....not really, but I want you to keep reading:)
I didn't know much about Beypazar, a village about an hour from Ankara, other than it was on the historic silk road and it was famous for silver and carrots. Sounded like my kind of town. We left after church on Sunday. As we headed out of Ankara, I was reminded once again of this stark part of Turkey we live in-the Anatolian Plain. When I'm in the city surrounded by tall buildings and lots of trees and other greenery, I forget what lies outside the city limits. While there are flat parts, there are lots of ridges-not hills, exactly, not mountains. But pretty tall peaks that are gray or brown, occasionally dotted with sparse trees. Tim finds it beautiful in its own way, I find it somewhat frightening (I don't know why-I think it's that you can see for miles and miles without seeing much of anything and there's not much green) and wonder why in the world Ataturk would have picked this part of Turkey to put his new capital in. My mom read this book about Pioneer women once-those brave souls who ventured west in covered wagons with their husbands. They often stopped in some incredibly flat state and set up a home. There was nothing for miles and miles. No people, no towns, just land. A lot of these women eventually went crazy just looking at the vast endless space. For some reason I always think about that as we get out of Ankara. Now, I'm not going to go crazy as we travel in this part of the country, I'm just saying that I have that same feeling-almost overwhelmed by the vastness of nothing. I'm more of a green, rolling hills kind of VA girl. I think there's something promising about a green hill-something lush and life-giving. I'm learning, though, that there is beauty in this landscape, too. It is life-giving too, yielding beautiful fruits and vegetables, hay, animals-all providing for the people who live here.
Interspersed between the browns and grays, though, there were beautiful patchwork fields. Patches of parsley-beautiful, mossy green carpets. There were fields of tomatoes, beautiful Ayas tomatoes, named for this region and known for the sweetness and deliciousness. There were beautiful eggplant, oblong purple gems, and huge glowing orange carrots that would make Peter Rabbit jealous. All of this beautiful produce, after it was picked, was housed in little huts made of corn husks and straw, manned by cheerful, rotund peasant women in flowery headscarfs and little spritely, business-savy children who looked as if they had been in the sun all summer.
There were also golden fields of hay or straw. We couldn't figure out if they were growing it or had covered the fields in this. You know you hear those songs about "golden fields against an azure sky" or "fields of gold," that's excactly what these fields looked like. After the grays and browns and stark peaks, the golden fields were a welcome sight, catching the light and playing against the blue of the sky.
Sometimes we would be coming up upon a hill that looked like it was covered in big, white rocks, only to find they were sheep or goats that were lying very still, just sunning themselves. There were enough to cover a whole hill, from the top, all the way to the bottom, near the road.
Now, let me say that as I was more of the observer during this whole trip since Tim was driving. He couldn't look very carefully at anything but the road. The roads can be really terrible here-tons of huge potholes, road work, and every changing road patterns. Several people have told us that there is money to fix the roads temporarily, but never enough money to fix them for the long-term. The result is that there is always road work. We had to be careful to follow the signs, to make sure we were in the correct lane, since those were always shifting. I'm always glad Tim is the one driving. Strangely enough, he enjoys the driving here. I'm very content to sit in the passenger seat, be the pot-hole lookout, take in the scenery, and contemplate what my next blog entry will be about.
Well, looks like the Bepazar trip will have to be divided into 2 entries as I have gotten carried away with talking about the landscape. I guess I fancy myself the next Willa Cather. So...stay tuned for more on Beypazar-where 2 yabangi (foreigners) get into danger and trouble in a small Turkish town. Ok....not really, but I want you to keep reading:)
Friday, September 4, 2009
Holding it Together
So today's blog will focus on a typical day in the life of Kate Redden as she goes about her business in Turkey. Ok, truthfully this will only cover 1/2 of my day because I'm tired and I'm having trouble typing due to a pinky injury. Here goes anyway...
We start at 7 am. I say goodbye to Tim and am thankful I don't have to make him a lunch. I like the idea of being a good wife and making him a lunch, but hate the actual physical process of the lunch making. It is is my lucky day, as he has leftover Popeye's Chicken from dinner last night (for many of you this will not be a surprise.) This is the same chicken that the Popeye's people forgot to put in our carryout bag last night and we got home to find 3 drinks, 1 side of coleslaw and some mashed potatoes. Though this was 9:30 pm, my chicken-obsessed husband declared,"I didn't pay 21 lira for chicken I don't get to eat. We're going back." So, I mournfully looked down at my own carb-free meal (note: I have not been eating carbs this week and when you haven't been eating carbs and you wait til 9:30 to eat, you get a little crazy) and dutifully hopped in the car to retrieve the lost chicken.
But I digress. So, I sent Tim on his way, after he encouraged me to try and pay the rent on my own today. This may sound like a mundane, easy task. In Turkey it is not. If only it were so easy as clicking a few buttons and paying on-line (it is important to let you know you can't even pay your internet bill on-line, however you can order a Supersize meal from McDonalds on-line and have it arrive by scooter to your door in 20 minutes). I worked up my courage and told Tim I would indeed pay our rent. I was going to be brave. After all, I need to make good on what I said in my blog yesterday:)
So I hopped in a cab and headed to school to pick up our car. I walked onto the base and showed my ID. I'm always very aware that all eyes are on me as I make my grand entrance (please say that with a french accent). Many of those whose eyes are on me are holding M-16's. It's not that I'm scared or anything, it's just weird to be the center of attention like that. I always have a grand fear of doing something stupid in front of a group (I get this from my mother). And let's face it folks, I don't really blend. They will notice. So as all eyes are on me, I start to adjust my shirt and feel a bit of skin. Yikes! I was supposed to feel denim. I subtlely hike my jeans up, while simulatneously realizing that they are a bit loose-a combination of a carb-free eating plan this week and the fact that I have worn them without washing them several time. I realize, at this point, I need to physically kind of hold them up on one side. I also realize I have about 1/2 mile to walk while doing this. I also realize that a formation of about 30-40 soldiers have fallen in behind me, all saying in unison (left, left, left, right, left). Well, they were really saying "sol, sol, sol, sag sol" (excuse the spelling Turkish speakers). They were gaining on me, so I increased my speed, while trying to hold up my pants without anyone behind me noticing. Thankfully, they finally veered off and an I proceeded to the school at the back of the base.
I poked my head in Tim's class to get the keys, headed back to the car and was off on my city adventure. I knew the route had a couple round-abouts and these scare me. I mean just driving in a straight line is complicated here (no one drives straight and there aren't designated lanes). But, I successfully navigated to the bank and parked in an open, gravel parking lot. I crossed the street (nervously and still holding my pants up) and found the unmarked door of the building the bank was in. With a very large wad of American dollars in my wallet (this is how you have to do it), I climbed 4 flights of steps til I reached a dark, sturdy looking door. I rang the buzzer to be let in. I thought I might have to give a password or something (and I didn't know the Turkish word for swordfish). I was granted entrance and the security guard asked what I wanted. I had no earthly idea how to say "I'm here to pay my rent." So I blurted out, "I'm here to pay my rent." Again, all eyes on me- the one with the droopy drawers. The one who took 2 months of Turkish and the result is that I speak Turklish (Turkish and English) with a bit of French, German, pictionary, and charades mixed in. A lady motions me to her window and I hand her the wad of cash and a paper with all the information needed to pay my rent. None of it needs to even be translated. I get a blank stare and a shrug of the shoulders, like "What am I supposed to do." After a colleague came to check into the matter, he too had a furrowed brow. This is a bit strange since Tim has come into pay his rent every month for 2 1/2 years-same account and everything. Anyway, things finally clicked and I tried to reclaim my Turkish language pride by bidding them "Iyi gunler" or "Have a good day."
Back in the car, I tried to backtrack to the school. However, I got caught in the whirlpool of the round-about and missed my turn. Good ole' Kate, though, figured it out and found a shortcut. Not only that, I had successfully paid my rent and my pants never fell down all the way. And on top of it, my jeans were loose! It turned out to be a good day afterall. Sometimes it's the little things that matter most. Now, I think I'll go reward myself with a brownie:)
We start at 7 am. I say goodbye to Tim and am thankful I don't have to make him a lunch. I like the idea of being a good wife and making him a lunch, but hate the actual physical process of the lunch making. It is is my lucky day, as he has leftover Popeye's Chicken from dinner last night (for many of you this will not be a surprise.) This is the same chicken that the Popeye's people forgot to put in our carryout bag last night and we got home to find 3 drinks, 1 side of coleslaw and some mashed potatoes. Though this was 9:30 pm, my chicken-obsessed husband declared,"I didn't pay 21 lira for chicken I don't get to eat. We're going back." So, I mournfully looked down at my own carb-free meal (note: I have not been eating carbs this week and when you haven't been eating carbs and you wait til 9:30 to eat, you get a little crazy) and dutifully hopped in the car to retrieve the lost chicken.
But I digress. So, I sent Tim on his way, after he encouraged me to try and pay the rent on my own today. This may sound like a mundane, easy task. In Turkey it is not. If only it were so easy as clicking a few buttons and paying on-line (it is important to let you know you can't even pay your internet bill on-line, however you can order a Supersize meal from McDonalds on-line and have it arrive by scooter to your door in 20 minutes). I worked up my courage and told Tim I would indeed pay our rent. I was going to be brave. After all, I need to make good on what I said in my blog yesterday:)
So I hopped in a cab and headed to school to pick up our car. I walked onto the base and showed my ID. I'm always very aware that all eyes are on me as I make my grand entrance (please say that with a french accent). Many of those whose eyes are on me are holding M-16's. It's not that I'm scared or anything, it's just weird to be the center of attention like that. I always have a grand fear of doing something stupid in front of a group (I get this from my mother). And let's face it folks, I don't really blend. They will notice. So as all eyes are on me, I start to adjust my shirt and feel a bit of skin. Yikes! I was supposed to feel denim. I subtlely hike my jeans up, while simulatneously realizing that they are a bit loose-a combination of a carb-free eating plan this week and the fact that I have worn them without washing them several time. I realize, at this point, I need to physically kind of hold them up on one side. I also realize I have about 1/2 mile to walk while doing this. I also realize that a formation of about 30-40 soldiers have fallen in behind me, all saying in unison (left, left, left, right, left). Well, they were really saying "sol, sol, sol, sag sol" (excuse the spelling Turkish speakers). They were gaining on me, so I increased my speed, while trying to hold up my pants without anyone behind me noticing. Thankfully, they finally veered off and an I proceeded to the school at the back of the base.
I poked my head in Tim's class to get the keys, headed back to the car and was off on my city adventure. I knew the route had a couple round-abouts and these scare me. I mean just driving in a straight line is complicated here (no one drives straight and there aren't designated lanes). But, I successfully navigated to the bank and parked in an open, gravel parking lot. I crossed the street (nervously and still holding my pants up) and found the unmarked door of the building the bank was in. With a very large wad of American dollars in my wallet (this is how you have to do it), I climbed 4 flights of steps til I reached a dark, sturdy looking door. I rang the buzzer to be let in. I thought I might have to give a password or something (and I didn't know the Turkish word for swordfish). I was granted entrance and the security guard asked what I wanted. I had no earthly idea how to say "I'm here to pay my rent." So I blurted out, "I'm here to pay my rent." Again, all eyes on me- the one with the droopy drawers. The one who took 2 months of Turkish and the result is that I speak Turklish (Turkish and English) with a bit of French, German, pictionary, and charades mixed in. A lady motions me to her window and I hand her the wad of cash and a paper with all the information needed to pay my rent. None of it needs to even be translated. I get a blank stare and a shrug of the shoulders, like "What am I supposed to do." After a colleague came to check into the matter, he too had a furrowed brow. This is a bit strange since Tim has come into pay his rent every month for 2 1/2 years-same account and everything. Anyway, things finally clicked and I tried to reclaim my Turkish language pride by bidding them "Iyi gunler" or "Have a good day."
Back in the car, I tried to backtrack to the school. However, I got caught in the whirlpool of the round-about and missed my turn. Good ole' Kate, though, figured it out and found a shortcut. Not only that, I had successfully paid my rent and my pants never fell down all the way. And on top of it, my jeans were loose! It turned out to be a good day afterall. Sometimes it's the little things that matter most. Now, I think I'll go reward myself with a brownie:)
Wednesday, September 2, 2009
The Return of Turkey Tales, Purpose, and Inspiration
Merhaba everyone. Hos geldiniz! It's so nice to be back, writing to all of you again. I have missed it! I have vowed that this year I will be better about writing more frequent updates, so that when I finally do write an entry it doesn't take you a year to read it. Editing has never been my forte.
My inspiration for writing again was reignited after seeing Julie/Julia, the movie about Julia Child (who I'm now obsessed with) and a woman who blogs about her experiences as she cooks her way through Julia's book, "Mastering the Art of French Cooking." I have now read Julia Child's biography, "My Life in France," and have ordered "Mastering the Art of French Cooking" and the dvd set of "The French Cook," Julia's cooking show.
Something in me greatly connected with Julia Child as I watched the movie and read about her "life in France." Like me, her husband's government job took her overseas. After the excitement of her new surroundings wore off she wondered, "But what am I going to do?" She found herself in a new country, without a defined role and sense of purpose. After attempts at hatmaking and lessons in bridge, she stumbled upon what would become her life's passion and work...cooking.
When I first got to Turkey and had finished unpacking and had baked all the Snickerdoodles I could bake (and eat), the same question came to me "But what am I going to do?" After all, I couldn't bake any more cookies-my skinny jeans were about burst as it was. So after crying and bemoaning to my husband that "I had nothing to report to him because nothing of significance had happened to me that day," I decided to embark on finding my place and role here in Turkey. Though I did not attempt bridge and hatmaking, I did jump in and try a lot of new things (and have learned for the 100th time that yoga just is not for me, no matter how desperately I want it to be-let's face it folks...I hate being hot because it make me sweat, which means my hands get sweaty, thus causing me to lose traction on my mat and go from a downward dog position to a dog flat on the floor position).
The hard thing was, as it was for Julia, I had always been a person with a schedule, a defined sense of purpose, and a defined job. All the sudden in a new country, it was like I had no idea who I was anymore. Many things that defined me were now gone-my teaching job, my understood role in a professional community and church community, my close friends and family (not gone, but just really far away!), my ability to get around quickly and easily whenever I wanted (since we share a car and driving in Turkey cannot really be defined as "getting around quick or easy), my ability to get a gingerbread latte whenever I wanted (ok, that really didn't define me, BUT I really missed it). And so what happens, when one finds themselves in a situation like this...one must reinvent themself.
"Reinvent"....I love this word. It has been tossed around a lot by people when they are referring to Julia. Do you know that she didn't publish her book til she was in her 50's? She didn't even find cooking until she was in her late 30's. Our lives and situations are always changing. We can either go with it and "reinvent" or fight it.
I spent a lot of last year fighting it. As much as I loved my husband and Turkey, I frequently found myself thinking or saying,"But this isn't how I used to do it." "I just want to do ____ like I did at home" "I don't think I connect with people here." And on and on the list went.
Well, folks, I'm not fighting it this year. I'm embracing. I'm enjoying. I'm reinventing. And I'm attempting Julia's chocolate souffle.
My inspiration for writing again was reignited after seeing Julie/Julia, the movie about Julia Child (who I'm now obsessed with) and a woman who blogs about her experiences as she cooks her way through Julia's book, "Mastering the Art of French Cooking." I have now read Julia Child's biography, "My Life in France," and have ordered "Mastering the Art of French Cooking" and the dvd set of "The French Cook," Julia's cooking show.
Something in me greatly connected with Julia Child as I watched the movie and read about her "life in France." Like me, her husband's government job took her overseas. After the excitement of her new surroundings wore off she wondered, "But what am I going to do?" She found herself in a new country, without a defined role and sense of purpose. After attempts at hatmaking and lessons in bridge, she stumbled upon what would become her life's passion and work...cooking.
When I first got to Turkey and had finished unpacking and had baked all the Snickerdoodles I could bake (and eat), the same question came to me "But what am I going to do?" After all, I couldn't bake any more cookies-my skinny jeans were about burst as it was. So after crying and bemoaning to my husband that "I had nothing to report to him because nothing of significance had happened to me that day," I decided to embark on finding my place and role here in Turkey. Though I did not attempt bridge and hatmaking, I did jump in and try a lot of new things (and have learned for the 100th time that yoga just is not for me, no matter how desperately I want it to be-let's face it folks...I hate being hot because it make me sweat, which means my hands get sweaty, thus causing me to lose traction on my mat and go from a downward dog position to a dog flat on the floor position).
The hard thing was, as it was for Julia, I had always been a person with a schedule, a defined sense of purpose, and a defined job. All the sudden in a new country, it was like I had no idea who I was anymore. Many things that defined me were now gone-my teaching job, my understood role in a professional community and church community, my close friends and family (not gone, but just really far away!), my ability to get around quickly and easily whenever I wanted (since we share a car and driving in Turkey cannot really be defined as "getting around quick or easy), my ability to get a gingerbread latte whenever I wanted (ok, that really didn't define me, BUT I really missed it). And so what happens, when one finds themselves in a situation like this...one must reinvent themself.
"Reinvent"....I love this word. It has been tossed around a lot by people when they are referring to Julia. Do you know that she didn't publish her book til she was in her 50's? She didn't even find cooking until she was in her late 30's. Our lives and situations are always changing. We can either go with it and "reinvent" or fight it.
I spent a lot of last year fighting it. As much as I loved my husband and Turkey, I frequently found myself thinking or saying,"But this isn't how I used to do it." "I just want to do ____ like I did at home" "I don't think I connect with people here." And on and on the list went.
Well, folks, I'm not fighting it this year. I'm embracing. I'm enjoying. I'm reinventing. And I'm attempting Julia's chocolate souffle.
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
Spring Break-Amasra
Our last day in Istanbul was a bit stressful since Obama was about to make an appearance. We had planned to go to the Aya Sophia, but we couldn't get in until later that day since Obama was visiting it. As the morning went on, more roads were becoming closed off, and more police officers were beginning to appear. Our hotel was right in the midst of the whole parade route and was apparent things were about to get very crazy. So we scrapped all our plans and decided to high-tail it out of there before we got blocked in for hours. And so we were off to the little village of Amasra, on the Black Sea. It was about a 4 hours drive to Amasra. On the way, we stopped at a Burger King, where I got to bust out my Turkish skills. That's really where those skills come in handy. Cause when you want a Whopper, you don't want a language barrier to prevent you from getting it. And you want to be able to say "without vegetables" so you don't end up getting a nasty parasite again! That is truly "survival" Turkish.
When we got to the coast, it was amazingly beautiful. We stopped at an overlook where we could see the vast Black Sea and the village below. Our pension that we stayed in was right on the water. We climbed down to the rocks below and got some great pictures. In the distance we could see a tiny island that is apparently inhabited by tons of rabbits (ok, we only saw some birds, but apparently there are supposed to be rabbits).
The village Amasra was quaint and cute, with cobblestone streets, with reminders of the Romans-old churches and crosses on archways. One afternoon we walked out as far as we could on a seawall. Afterwards, we ate at a fish restaurant. Tim's parents were brave and ordered whole little fish that were fried. We also got an Amasra salad, which is famous for being huge and very artfully arranged. The vegetables are cut into flowers and shapes and the whole beautiful mess is sprinkled with an oil and vinegar dressing. Very tasty! For dessert, they brought us some complimentary yogurt (unsweetened) covered with honey and nuts. Pretty tasty!
Our breakfast the next morning was one of the best we have had in Turkey. Breakfasts usually consist of lots of bread, olives, tomatoes, and cheese. At the pension in Amasra, we had some amazing bread that was fresh from the oven, incredible fruit jams, cheese pastries (so good!!!) and vegetables. The ladies who prepared it were dressed like many Turkish women- heads covered with brightly patterned scarves, shirts and skirts with bright patterns, bright colored socks and slip-on sandals. They were jovial and hospitable. I enjoyed getting to use my Turkish with them.
After a day in Amasra, we headed back to Ankara, stopping in the town of Saffronbolu on the way. Saffronbolu is apparently the home of saffron. It is a well-preserved historical town, a place who has been conquered by many different groups through the centuries. The town reminded me a lot of a town my friend Micah and I went to in Albania. It's not too surprising, considering that their histories were probably similar. First, being taken by the Romans, then eventually be conquered by the Ottoman Empire. In this town, we went through a museum of the area and had a nice little lunch. The lady who ran the place, had to leave in the middle of our meal because of the call to prayer. She gave us a little buzzer to use in case we needed her while she was at the mosque. I hope Tim and I can go back since there are many more things to do there, including going to a very, very old hamam (Tim will be on his own!), and hiking, kayaking, and climbing around in caves.
What I loved about Tim's parent's visit is that they got to see different areas of Turkey. Turkey is a very diverse country, with a variety of different landscapes and rich in history. Driving to these different areas gave all of us a chance to really see what this country and its people are like.
When we got to the coast, it was amazingly beautiful. We stopped at an overlook where we could see the vast Black Sea and the village below. Our pension that we stayed in was right on the water. We climbed down to the rocks below and got some great pictures. In the distance we could see a tiny island that is apparently inhabited by tons of rabbits (ok, we only saw some birds, but apparently there are supposed to be rabbits).
The village Amasra was quaint and cute, with cobblestone streets, with reminders of the Romans-old churches and crosses on archways. One afternoon we walked out as far as we could on a seawall. Afterwards, we ate at a fish restaurant. Tim's parents were brave and ordered whole little fish that were fried. We also got an Amasra salad, which is famous for being huge and very artfully arranged. The vegetables are cut into flowers and shapes and the whole beautiful mess is sprinkled with an oil and vinegar dressing. Very tasty! For dessert, they brought us some complimentary yogurt (unsweetened) covered with honey and nuts. Pretty tasty!
Our breakfast the next morning was one of the best we have had in Turkey. Breakfasts usually consist of lots of bread, olives, tomatoes, and cheese. At the pension in Amasra, we had some amazing bread that was fresh from the oven, incredible fruit jams, cheese pastries (so good!!!) and vegetables. The ladies who prepared it were dressed like many Turkish women- heads covered with brightly patterned scarves, shirts and skirts with bright patterns, bright colored socks and slip-on sandals. They were jovial and hospitable. I enjoyed getting to use my Turkish with them.
After a day in Amasra, we headed back to Ankara, stopping in the town of Saffronbolu on the way. Saffronbolu is apparently the home of saffron. It is a well-preserved historical town, a place who has been conquered by many different groups through the centuries. The town reminded me a lot of a town my friend Micah and I went to in Albania. It's not too surprising, considering that their histories were probably similar. First, being taken by the Romans, then eventually be conquered by the Ottoman Empire. In this town, we went through a museum of the area and had a nice little lunch. The lady who ran the place, had to leave in the middle of our meal because of the call to prayer. She gave us a little buzzer to use in case we needed her while she was at the mosque. I hope Tim and I can go back since there are many more things to do there, including going to a very, very old hamam (Tim will be on his own!), and hiking, kayaking, and climbing around in caves.
What I loved about Tim's parent's visit is that they got to see different areas of Turkey. Turkey is a very diverse country, with a variety of different landscapes and rich in history. Driving to these different areas gave all of us a chance to really see what this country and its people are like.
Monday, April 20, 2009
Spring Break- Istanbul
Good Tuesday morning everyone! Turkey Kate is back. I can't tell you how many drafts I have that I started and never finshed and posted. But, the house is cleaned, Tim's at school, and the laundry is running, so I have time to write. I am still doing laundry from when Tim's parents were here. Because I'm lazy? Oh no. Four words sum it up. Turkish washer and dryer. Inefficiency at its best. It's never taken so long to get the kabab smell and cigarette smoke out of our clothes. Well actually, up until this year the kabob smell in my clothes wasn't a problem:)
As the fried fish smells of Amasra, the sizzling Iskender from Istanbul, and stale cigarette smoke wash out of our clothes, I find myself reminiscing about our time with Tim's parents. Family visits are always bittersweet. It's so wonderful when your family is here, but very hard when they leave. They remind you of how much you love and miss your family. Ok, enough sappiness. Onto the tales of our Spring Break!
We started out here in Ankara, visiting Ataturk's mausoleum, the base and school, Ulus (the oldest part of the city that was the original village) and the Museum of Anatolian History (the kind of history you can't quite wrap your head around). While we were in Ulus, we ran into a bunch of Americans in a souvenir shop. Turns out they were Obama's secret service agents. They only confessed this information to Tim's dad, who has some supernatural power that makes people spill all their secret information to him. We saw him display this gift over and over during the week!
After a day in Ankara, we headed to Istanbul. We chose to drive this time, rather than taking the train. I was proud of Tim for maneuvering around Istanbul with our car. It is not easy!!! It is a huge, confusing city, full of crazy driving. While in Istanbul, we went to Topkai Palace, which was especially beautifully because of Obama's impending visit. The landscapers were placing perfect single tulips directly into the soil. Fun fact: Tulips are a symbol of Turkey. We also went to the Blue Mosque (that you probably saw Obama at the day after we were there) and the Grand Bazaar. The Grand Bazaar is an underground maze of shops. Turkish vendors call to you from every angle, speaking in different languages until they figure out which one you understand. Though it's a colorful world in the Bazaar, I'm easily annoyed by the constant barrage of comments. "Hello My friend." "I am still here." "Ahh, you are back." "I have been waiting for you, my friend." "I make very good price only for you." "You look like a movie star." "I remember you." And on and on they go. The only things we ended up buying was a bunch of different kinds of tea and some coffee at the spice bazaar. The spice bazaar is my favorite part. Spices from all over the world greet your nose and eyes. It's a wonderful place for the senses- mustard yellow saffron, bright red pepper, pea green-colored tea... This time around in the bazaar, I could actually speak Turkish. I loved to see the shock on the Turks' faces when a blonde, blue-eyed American spoke to them in Turkish. Now, my Turkish is far from good, but the fact I can say anything goes a long way!
You know what else goes a long way? Tim's dad's special powers (as previously mentioned). Not only can he get people to spill their secrets, but he can get the annoying vendors to leave you alone. Often these guys on the street will approach you, and start talking to you and walking alongside of you. They are often trying to guide you to their carpet shop or give you a personal tour that you will later pay for. Most people ignore them (my usual plan), but that often doesn't deter them. Tim's dad, however, takes the friendly approach. He starts talking to them about all sorts of things. So much so, they can't get a word in edgewise and they finally give up and leave us alone. Pure genius!
I almost forgot! We went to a professional soccer game while in Istanbul. Soccer is HUGE here. We saw one of the top teams play. Not all the players are Turkish. They recruit good players from other countries. We all really enjoyed hearing the Turkish national anthem (very minor sounding) and all of the other singing that occurred during the game. For all the disorganization in Turkey, one thing that is organized is the cheering during soccer games. It's astounding. They actually have official cheering sections with a leader who organizes each cheer and song. They also have drummers in the cheering section. The different cheers and rhythms that go on around the stadium create this cool piece of music.
When Tim ordered our tickets, he made sure we weren't in the cheering section. You cannot sit there and not cheer and have your face painted. They would get really angry. They don't mess around. You know how much they don't mess around? They are policemen EVERYWHERE!!! There is actually a whole line of policemen that sit between the home fans and the away fans. They sit in a single line all the way down the bleachers, with night sticks and huge shields. The policemen may have to deal with crazy, obsessed fans, but one thing they don't have to deal with is drunken fans. No alcohol in the whole stadium, folks. For once it was nice to go to a game and not have someone spill a beer on you. They didn't even sell sodas. Only water and hot cay (tea). Vendors actually come uround with those boxes around their neck filled with steaming hot tea. Instead of peanuts, people chew on something that looks like sunflower seeds, spitting them out in whatever direction they feel like. There are hotdogs in the stadium. Ballpark franks they are not. They are all beef (remember no pork allowed), very slim, and have a reddish tint to them. If you put enough ketchup and pickles on them, you can trick yourself into thinking you're back at the Braves' or Nationals' Stadiums:)
You know when you travel, often the most fun and memorable times are the unplanned ones. We were so careful to plan each step of Tim's parents' visit, but you can't plan the weather. So, our last afternoon/evening in Istanbul it poured. There wasn't a whole lot we could do, so we decided to go to a movie. The movie wasn't that good, but we had a great time anyway, especially walking in the rain on the way home. We had $5 clear plastic umbrellas that we'd bought from a street vendor. We walked past the famous Aya Sophia and Blue Mosque, getting wet and laughing hysterically over things I can't even remember now. Tim's mom said that was one of her favorite parts of their trip. And I think it was mine too. A random, unplanned moment, just enjoying being with each other in this famous and historical city, with rain soaked socks and stomachs that hurt from laughing so hard.
As the fried fish smells of Amasra, the sizzling Iskender from Istanbul, and stale cigarette smoke wash out of our clothes, I find myself reminiscing about our time with Tim's parents. Family visits are always bittersweet. It's so wonderful when your family is here, but very hard when they leave. They remind you of how much you love and miss your family. Ok, enough sappiness. Onto the tales of our Spring Break!
We started out here in Ankara, visiting Ataturk's mausoleum, the base and school, Ulus (the oldest part of the city that was the original village) and the Museum of Anatolian History (the kind of history you can't quite wrap your head around). While we were in Ulus, we ran into a bunch of Americans in a souvenir shop. Turns out they were Obama's secret service agents. They only confessed this information to Tim's dad, who has some supernatural power that makes people spill all their secret information to him. We saw him display this gift over and over during the week!
After a day in Ankara, we headed to Istanbul. We chose to drive this time, rather than taking the train. I was proud of Tim for maneuvering around Istanbul with our car. It is not easy!!! It is a huge, confusing city, full of crazy driving. While in Istanbul, we went to Topkai Palace, which was especially beautifully because of Obama's impending visit. The landscapers were placing perfect single tulips directly into the soil. Fun fact: Tulips are a symbol of Turkey. We also went to the Blue Mosque (that you probably saw Obama at the day after we were there) and the Grand Bazaar. The Grand Bazaar is an underground maze of shops. Turkish vendors call to you from every angle, speaking in different languages until they figure out which one you understand. Though it's a colorful world in the Bazaar, I'm easily annoyed by the constant barrage of comments. "Hello My friend." "I am still here." "Ahh, you are back." "I have been waiting for you, my friend." "I make very good price only for you." "You look like a movie star." "I remember you." And on and on they go. The only things we ended up buying was a bunch of different kinds of tea and some coffee at the spice bazaar. The spice bazaar is my favorite part. Spices from all over the world greet your nose and eyes. It's a wonderful place for the senses- mustard yellow saffron, bright red pepper, pea green-colored tea... This time around in the bazaar, I could actually speak Turkish. I loved to see the shock on the Turks' faces when a blonde, blue-eyed American spoke to them in Turkish. Now, my Turkish is far from good, but the fact I can say anything goes a long way!
You know what else goes a long way? Tim's dad's special powers (as previously mentioned). Not only can he get people to spill their secrets, but he can get the annoying vendors to leave you alone. Often these guys on the street will approach you, and start talking to you and walking alongside of you. They are often trying to guide you to their carpet shop or give you a personal tour that you will later pay for. Most people ignore them (my usual plan), but that often doesn't deter them. Tim's dad, however, takes the friendly approach. He starts talking to them about all sorts of things. So much so, they can't get a word in edgewise and they finally give up and leave us alone. Pure genius!
I almost forgot! We went to a professional soccer game while in Istanbul. Soccer is HUGE here. We saw one of the top teams play. Not all the players are Turkish. They recruit good players from other countries. We all really enjoyed hearing the Turkish national anthem (very minor sounding) and all of the other singing that occurred during the game. For all the disorganization in Turkey, one thing that is organized is the cheering during soccer games. It's astounding. They actually have official cheering sections with a leader who organizes each cheer and song. They also have drummers in the cheering section. The different cheers and rhythms that go on around the stadium create this cool piece of music.
When Tim ordered our tickets, he made sure we weren't in the cheering section. You cannot sit there and not cheer and have your face painted. They would get really angry. They don't mess around. You know how much they don't mess around? They are policemen EVERYWHERE!!! There is actually a whole line of policemen that sit between the home fans and the away fans. They sit in a single line all the way down the bleachers, with night sticks and huge shields. The policemen may have to deal with crazy, obsessed fans, but one thing they don't have to deal with is drunken fans. No alcohol in the whole stadium, folks. For once it was nice to go to a game and not have someone spill a beer on you. They didn't even sell sodas. Only water and hot cay (tea). Vendors actually come uround with those boxes around their neck filled with steaming hot tea. Instead of peanuts, people chew on something that looks like sunflower seeds, spitting them out in whatever direction they feel like. There are hotdogs in the stadium. Ballpark franks they are not. They are all beef (remember no pork allowed), very slim, and have a reddish tint to them. If you put enough ketchup and pickles on them, you can trick yourself into thinking you're back at the Braves' or Nationals' Stadiums:)
You know when you travel, often the most fun and memorable times are the unplanned ones. We were so careful to plan each step of Tim's parents' visit, but you can't plan the weather. So, our last afternoon/evening in Istanbul it poured. There wasn't a whole lot we could do, so we decided to go to a movie. The movie wasn't that good, but we had a great time anyway, especially walking in the rain on the way home. We had $5 clear plastic umbrellas that we'd bought from a street vendor. We walked past the famous Aya Sophia and Blue Mosque, getting wet and laughing hysterically over things I can't even remember now. Tim's mom said that was one of her favorite parts of their trip. And I think it was mine too. A random, unplanned moment, just enjoying being with each other in this famous and historical city, with rain soaked socks and stomachs that hurt from laughing so hard.
Wednesday, April 1, 2009
Politics, Politics
Turkey held their national election last week. The Ak Party was the winner. This was the party previously in power. I don't know much about it, other than they are a much more religiously conservative party. The election was a really big deal and for weeks I was handed brochures and listened to campaign speeches mixed with Turkish folk music blaring over loudspeaker. Kizilay, the area of the city where my class is, was covered with policeman, and I have gotten very use to being up close and personal with many guns each day. I told Tim the other day I was going to start counting how many guns I saw in a day. And I don't mean the guns you see on police officers or mall security guys. We're talking the big guns.
I was very proud of myself for being able to ask my taxi driver in Turkish which party had won the election. This particular taxi driver is one of my favorites. He is an older gentleman with kind eyes. He was impressed I could say some stuff in Turkish. Because I like him, I'll forgive him for taking a "shortcut" on our way to Kizilay. His shortcut cost me an extra 10 minutes and 4 lira. I really do believe, though, he was trying to save me some time.
The next day, however, my taxi driver (who I didn't know and was a more stoic type) was saying something to me in Turkish I couldn't quite understand. I got in and said my normal, "Gunayden. Kizilay. Ziya Gokalp Caddesi, lutfen," which means, "Good Morning. Kizilay. Ziya Gokalp Street, please." Instead of being on our way, he was trying to tell me that some roads were closed and acted as if I couldn't go to that street. I didn't understand and just indicated with my hand we should proceed. Well, we got there fine (I knew we would because I knew the road we needed to take wasn't closed) and I thought he just had misinformation. So, a bit later, my class starts. About 5 minutes into the class, I hear many loud male voices, chanting and yelling. It was a bit scary, I admit. Our teacher, though, doesn't seem to be alarmed. She stopped class so we can look out of the window to the street far below our classroom. Thousands upon thousands of people (98% men) were marching, chanting, singing, and carrying Turkish flags and pictures of another political party's leader. Come to find out, this leader and some of his assistants were killed in a helicopter crash last week before the election. This was especially important because he was apprarently slated to be the next Ataturk. He was, I think, a bit more progressive and less religiously conservative then the current president. It seems like a very tragic thing to lose someone who could have been a great leader for Turkey. The people marching were honoring this fallen hero of their's. It was surreal to see such a huge sea of people below our window. They just kept coming and coming.
On an American political note, Obama is coming to Turkey next week. A lot of people here in Ankara are bugged because he's changed his plans around and messed up their spring breaks. Many people had already bought their plane tickets, when they found out that he was coming and that the goverment employees would need to stay for his visit. So, many people changed or canceled their tickets. Now, he is no longer doing a "Meet and Greet" here in Ankara, but doing it in Istanbul, instead. Personally, I think this is not very smart because there are way more Americans goverment workers, not to mention the ambassador, plus the dept. of defense people here in Ankara. There is only a consulate in Istanbul. Strange decision.
Well, I'm off to a rehearsal for a musical. More writing to come!
I was very proud of myself for being able to ask my taxi driver in Turkish which party had won the election. This particular taxi driver is one of my favorites. He is an older gentleman with kind eyes. He was impressed I could say some stuff in Turkish. Because I like him, I'll forgive him for taking a "shortcut" on our way to Kizilay. His shortcut cost me an extra 10 minutes and 4 lira. I really do believe, though, he was trying to save me some time.
The next day, however, my taxi driver (who I didn't know and was a more stoic type) was saying something to me in Turkish I couldn't quite understand. I got in and said my normal, "Gunayden. Kizilay. Ziya Gokalp Caddesi, lutfen," which means, "Good Morning. Kizilay. Ziya Gokalp Street, please." Instead of being on our way, he was trying to tell me that some roads were closed and acted as if I couldn't go to that street. I didn't understand and just indicated with my hand we should proceed. Well, we got there fine (I knew we would because I knew the road we needed to take wasn't closed) and I thought he just had misinformation. So, a bit later, my class starts. About 5 minutes into the class, I hear many loud male voices, chanting and yelling. It was a bit scary, I admit. Our teacher, though, doesn't seem to be alarmed. She stopped class so we can look out of the window to the street far below our classroom. Thousands upon thousands of people (98% men) were marching, chanting, singing, and carrying Turkish flags and pictures of another political party's leader. Come to find out, this leader and some of his assistants were killed in a helicopter crash last week before the election. This was especially important because he was apprarently slated to be the next Ataturk. He was, I think, a bit more progressive and less religiously conservative then the current president. It seems like a very tragic thing to lose someone who could have been a great leader for Turkey. The people marching were honoring this fallen hero of their's. It was surreal to see such a huge sea of people below our window. They just kept coming and coming.
On an American political note, Obama is coming to Turkey next week. A lot of people here in Ankara are bugged because he's changed his plans around and messed up their spring breaks. Many people had already bought their plane tickets, when they found out that he was coming and that the goverment employees would need to stay for his visit. So, many people changed or canceled their tickets. Now, he is no longer doing a "Meet and Greet" here in Ankara, but doing it in Istanbul, instead. Personally, I think this is not very smart because there are way more Americans goverment workers, not to mention the ambassador, plus the dept. of defense people here in Ankara. There is only a consulate in Istanbul. Strange decision.
Well, I'm off to a rehearsal for a musical. More writing to come!
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
More Randomness
-There are red-headed Turks! There are even blonde Turks and some with green and blue eyes! The Turkish people who live by the Black Sea are usually blonde. Let's face it,though, most Turks have dark hair and dark eyes, which means I can't hide in a crowd!
-Every store you go in has a picture of Ataturk, the man who gave Turks last names, increased the literacy rate by a huge percentage, moved the capital to Ankara, and did many, many other things to make Turkey a more progressive country. When I say every store, I mean pharmacies, grocery stores, the mall, everywhere! Not to mention that there are pictures and statues of Ataturk all over the city. At the mall the other day I saw an office supply store that, in addition to selling paper, pens, pencils, staplers, etc., they also sold pictures of Ataturk for the office. If you get a chance, google Ataturk. He's pretty interesting. His daughter was even one of the first women fighter pilots!
-The sidewalks (as I think I've mentioned) are horrible here. I'm going to bite it soon in a public place, I just know it. It almost happened twice yesterday. Why do I feel the need to wear the small pointy heeled boots?? Partly, because I think in addition to the blonde hair, the Addidas would give me away too:) As I was maneuvering the obstacle course that is a Turkish sidewalk yesterday, I was wondering how on earth a sidewalk could look as if it had gone through an earthquake. We're talking deep holes, huge cracks, sidewalk tiles at crazy angles. As I almost fell yet again, I wondered what on earth could cause a sidewalk to look like that. And then a huge truck drove right up on the sidewalk (this is in the middle of the city, remember) and parked. And that answered my question. And why wouldn't a huge truck drive on a sidewalk?
-As I got into the taxi last week, the mayor was getting in his car, a few feet away from me. I however, did not have security guys with the huge guns guarding me.
-Today I had to go down to the Turkish police station (a huge place!!) to get my residence card. There is a Turkish lady who helps all the Americans with the paperwork and translates at the police station. I met her at the dept. of defense building this morning and we were driven in a very, very nice car by a guy in a very expensive looking suit, sunglasses, and a small earpiece. I felt like I was very important person or maybe in an episode of "24" (we have "24" on the brain because we're watching season 1 on dvd-addiction!!! I find that I'm much more suspicious these days because of it!) Turns out Tim and I owe Turkey 75 Turkish Lira as penalty for not letting the Turkish government know that we got married (you're supposed to let them know 15 days after the date). Apparently, our Turkish helper didn't even know about this policy and said it was new to her (and she goes down there every week). I might have rolled my eyes a little at the man who was "helping" us and insisting that we needed to pay this. Things can be very subjective, to say the least.
-Every store you go in has a picture of Ataturk, the man who gave Turks last names, increased the literacy rate by a huge percentage, moved the capital to Ankara, and did many, many other things to make Turkey a more progressive country. When I say every store, I mean pharmacies, grocery stores, the mall, everywhere! Not to mention that there are pictures and statues of Ataturk all over the city. At the mall the other day I saw an office supply store that, in addition to selling paper, pens, pencils, staplers, etc., they also sold pictures of Ataturk for the office. If you get a chance, google Ataturk. He's pretty interesting. His daughter was even one of the first women fighter pilots!
-The sidewalks (as I think I've mentioned) are horrible here. I'm going to bite it soon in a public place, I just know it. It almost happened twice yesterday. Why do I feel the need to wear the small pointy heeled boots?? Partly, because I think in addition to the blonde hair, the Addidas would give me away too:) As I was maneuvering the obstacle course that is a Turkish sidewalk yesterday, I was wondering how on earth a sidewalk could look as if it had gone through an earthquake. We're talking deep holes, huge cracks, sidewalk tiles at crazy angles. As I almost fell yet again, I wondered what on earth could cause a sidewalk to look like that. And then a huge truck drove right up on the sidewalk (this is in the middle of the city, remember) and parked. And that answered my question. And why wouldn't a huge truck drive on a sidewalk?
-As I got into the taxi last week, the mayor was getting in his car, a few feet away from me. I however, did not have security guys with the huge guns guarding me.
-Today I had to go down to the Turkish police station (a huge place!!) to get my residence card. There is a Turkish lady who helps all the Americans with the paperwork and translates at the police station. I met her at the dept. of defense building this morning and we were driven in a very, very nice car by a guy in a very expensive looking suit, sunglasses, and a small earpiece. I felt like I was very important person or maybe in an episode of "24" (we have "24" on the brain because we're watching season 1 on dvd-addiction!!! I find that I'm much more suspicious these days because of it!) Turns out Tim and I owe Turkey 75 Turkish Lira as penalty for not letting the Turkish government know that we got married (you're supposed to let them know 15 days after the date). Apparently, our Turkish helper didn't even know about this policy and said it was new to her (and she goes down there every week). I might have rolled my eyes a little at the man who was "helping" us and insisting that we needed to pay this. Things can be very subjective, to say the least.
Thursday, March 12, 2009
Happy Birthday!!
As we mentioned, we have a lot of birthdays in our family this week. My mom, Tim's dad, and Tim's Granny. Today is Tim's dad's and Granny's birthdays. Happy Birthday you two!!! We hope it's a great one! Love, Kate and Tim
Ne Haber?
"Ne Haber?" means "What's the news?" I don't have any terribly interesting stories right now-no more sheep killed or crazy animal parts found in my bag of frozen meat. I have today off from class, which has been nice. I needed a day where I didn't have to conjugate verbs. Our Level 1 class ended yesterday and Level 2 starts tomorrow. One more month of Turkish for old Kate. My good Filipino friend won't be continuing, which is I'm sad about. She was my best friend in the class and made things a lot more fun- not to mention she brought me snacks everyday, Turkish cookies, dried apricots, dried grapes (bigger than raisins), and these amazing pastries from a local bakery. Now during breaks, I might be the only one who sits in the classroom because everyone else will be outside smoking. Do you know there are people in my class who have been smoking since they were 10??! Crazy!
Here's some more "haber" from Ankara....
-elections are coming up here, so there have been lots of rallies (always attended by tons of policeman in blue camouflage with machine guns) and people driving around in vans, giving speeches over a loudspeaker
-Tim's parents are coming for spring break in less than month. We can't wait to have them and show them around Turkey!
-I've been directing an elementary chorus every Tuesday afternoon at Tim's school. I have 13 girls, from 2nd-5th grade. They are a wonderful group-talented and well-behaved! They will give a concert at the school sometime in May.
-I've also been directing the music for a local community theater musical. We rehearse every Tuesday night for 2 hours. The rehearsals are held at the Turkish American Association building. There are elementary kids, ms/hs kids, and adults in involved. The musical will be performed the first weekend in May.
-I currently have 2 piano students and will soon have many more. I've really enjoyed having the time to teach private lessons. I have great students and it's really nice to teach out of our home!
-Tim's schedule continues to be pretty crazy. Soccer is going well, though, he's wondering if there will be enough girls to have a team. He played a little soccer himself last Sunday at the base. Every weekend, the Turkish guards and a couple other Americans get together and play. It was a beautiful day and fun for me to watch them play.
-Tim's given some pretty interesting projects out to his classes of late (I thought they were very creative). His high school geography class did a project where they had to pick 2 European cities and plan the route of how to get from one to the other. They had cross 2 international borders and include 2 stops to eat along the way. I think I want to try some of these routes! I especially liked the route that went through Spain down to Morocco. When they studied South and Central America, they had to plan a vacation to one of the countries in those areas. They had to plan the whole trip- the lodging, the plane tickets, and the itinerary. His 6th grade history class is learning about bartering and trading. They have been split into different groups, each group being given different materials and no one group getting all the materials they need to complete the project. They have to barter and trade with each other to be able to complete the assignment.
-Happy Birthday to both my mom and Tim's dad! They both have birthday's this week!
Well, that's the news from Ankara!!! Iyi gunler (have a good day!)
Here's some more "haber" from Ankara....
-elections are coming up here, so there have been lots of rallies (always attended by tons of policeman in blue camouflage with machine guns) and people driving around in vans, giving speeches over a loudspeaker
-Tim's parents are coming for spring break in less than month. We can't wait to have them and show them around Turkey!
-I've been directing an elementary chorus every Tuesday afternoon at Tim's school. I have 13 girls, from 2nd-5th grade. They are a wonderful group-talented and well-behaved! They will give a concert at the school sometime in May.
-I've also been directing the music for a local community theater musical. We rehearse every Tuesday night for 2 hours. The rehearsals are held at the Turkish American Association building. There are elementary kids, ms/hs kids, and adults in involved. The musical will be performed the first weekend in May.
-I currently have 2 piano students and will soon have many more. I've really enjoyed having the time to teach private lessons. I have great students and it's really nice to teach out of our home!
-Tim's schedule continues to be pretty crazy. Soccer is going well, though, he's wondering if there will be enough girls to have a team. He played a little soccer himself last Sunday at the base. Every weekend, the Turkish guards and a couple other Americans get together and play. It was a beautiful day and fun for me to watch them play.
-Tim's given some pretty interesting projects out to his classes of late (I thought they were very creative). His high school geography class did a project where they had to pick 2 European cities and plan the route of how to get from one to the other. They had cross 2 international borders and include 2 stops to eat along the way. I think I want to try some of these routes! I especially liked the route that went through Spain down to Morocco. When they studied South and Central America, they had to plan a vacation to one of the countries in those areas. They had to plan the whole trip- the lodging, the plane tickets, and the itinerary. His 6th grade history class is learning about bartering and trading. They have been split into different groups, each group being given different materials and no one group getting all the materials they need to complete the project. They have to barter and trade with each other to be able to complete the assignment.
-Happy Birthday to both my mom and Tim's dad! They both have birthday's this week!
Well, that's the news from Ankara!!! Iyi gunler (have a good day!)
Friday, March 6, 2009
Guest Writer: Tim
I made my own blog a year-and-a-half ago, but I only made it so I could read my sister's blog. I never published anything on mine, so I am no expert at this but will do my best.
Kate and I went to a nearby restaurant on Thursday night for Iskender (roasted meat on top of bread with tomato sauce finished-off with a pint of hot, melted butter). They were out of Iskender, so we got the grilled chicken...our arteries thanked us. Kate may have mentioned this restaurant to you as Digiridoo Kebap...it's real name is Dicle Kebap.
But, that is not the point of this blog entry. The first time I took her to Dicle, we had to point at the rings on our fingers and act out our marriage ceremony to explain our version of "Me Tarzan; She Tarzan Redden, now" to the restaraunt manager, Kadir. This last visit was totally different. Kate chatted away with Kadir. I was very impressed to say the least. Not to mention, Turkish sounds very attractive coming from Kate!!!
The bottomline: whatever difficulty with learning Turkish Kate tells you about, should be put in the context: I (Tim) have been a regular at Dicle Kebap for over a year but didn't know the manager's name until my wife asked him last week. I didn't know he has a brother in Dallas. He didn't know anything about me--except what I could pantomime. Now, I know lots about him! Next up for my wife: maybe Kate can start asking the restaurant what is in all of the dishes I have been blindly consuming. Actually, I may not want to know. :)
Come and visit us...Kate will amaze you, too!
Kate and I went to a nearby restaurant on Thursday night for Iskender (roasted meat on top of bread with tomato sauce finished-off with a pint of hot, melted butter). They were out of Iskender, so we got the grilled chicken...our arteries thanked us. Kate may have mentioned this restaurant to you as Digiridoo Kebap...it's real name is Dicle Kebap.
But, that is not the point of this blog entry. The first time I took her to Dicle, we had to point at the rings on our fingers and act out our marriage ceremony to explain our version of "Me Tarzan; She Tarzan Redden, now" to the restaraunt manager, Kadir. This last visit was totally different. Kate chatted away with Kadir. I was very impressed to say the least. Not to mention, Turkish sounds very attractive coming from Kate!!!
The bottomline: whatever difficulty with learning Turkish Kate tells you about, should be put in the context: I (Tim) have been a regular at Dicle Kebap for over a year but didn't know the manager's name until my wife asked him last week. I didn't know he has a brother in Dallas. He didn't know anything about me--except what I could pantomime. Now, I know lots about him! Next up for my wife: maybe Kate can start asking the restaurant what is in all of the dishes I have been blindly consuming. Actually, I may not want to know. :)
Come and visit us...Kate will amaze you, too!
Thursday, March 5, 2009
The Hamam
Good Morning everyone!! I don't have class this morning, so I have more time write a bit on the blog. It's nice to have a day off, though I have to confess something....I actually really enjoy Turkish class. This is as big a shock to me as anyone else. I'm even thinking of continuing and taking Level 2. Last night, we went to a restaurant and I spoke Turkish with the waiter. I actually understood things (not perfectly and I missed a good bit too). Before I knew it, Turkish was coming out of me. What the heck? 3 weeks ago we went to that same restaurant and I couldn't even say hello or "my name is." I have to say I was very encouraged:) When I took French, it took me 3 weeks to say, "Where's the library?" I think we covered that phrase in the 1st 3 minutes of Turkish class:)
Ok, on to the hamam. The hamam is a Turkish bath. These places have existed for hundreds of years and are part of the Turkish culture. I'd heard about these places from Tim, who loves them. He kept saying I needed to try it. The opportunity presented itself when the German girl in my class wanted to go before she returned to Germany. Since I had a partner, I asked if Tim could drive us to this particular hamam (recommended to us) a bit outside the city. The hamam was in a town called Kecorin on the outskirts of Ankara and it looked like it was built by Disney. They had huge rock walls (man-made) with waterfalls coming down, amusement parks (looked like put-put and carnival rides) and it had cable cars that went back and forth above the city. At night they are lit up with neon colors. What a crazy place.
We made it to the hamam and Tim veered to the left (for the men) and we veered right (for the women). We were greeted by some very young, modern looking women who started spouting off Turkish to us and showing us charts and price lists. So much for our Turkish classes, we couldn't understand a daggone thing! We finally established that we needed to pay the entrance fee to the hamam, pay for a "massage", pay for a thin, dish-cloth type towel, and a kes, kind of like a loofah. They ushered us back to a changing room to put on our bathing suits. Then, we were taken to the first sauna. I actually hate saunas because I hate being hot and I have a fear of being locked inside. So for me, it wasn't very relaxing in the sauna, more like torture. After a few minutes, we were taken to another sauna, even worse than the first. This one was very small, hotter than the first one, and had some kind of minty-menthol smell, which I didn't like to breathe in. I almost bolted before they came back to get us.
After the torture of the saunas, they took us into the main area. It looked like something out of a novel. You walk through the door and see a huge white marble block in the middle of the room. There were a few women laying on those. Walking around with buckets of water and those loofah-type things, and all wearing modest black two-pieces (that really none of them should have been wearing) were the workers at the hamam. One of the women ushered my friend and I back to an alcove in the back where there were faucets with large marble basins underneath (a very, very old-fashioned type of sink). We were supposed to rinse ourselves off. Because we didn't understand the Turkish at first, she just grabbed a plastice bowl, filled it with water (which was cold) and dumped it over our heads. So, far the hamam was not the relaxing place I imagined it to be. After rinsing, this woman, took my friend with her to be scrubbed. They get the loofah really soapy and scrub you until you're almost raw. It's supposed to remove all the dead skin and get you really clean. As my friend left to go lay on the white marble block, I thought that I would just wait my turn and then that same woman would scrub me. Unfortunately, that would not be the case. I happened to look to the right of where my friend was only to see another lady motioning for me to come to her station. I immediately thought, "oh no." This lady was quite short and very stout, very, very stout (again, the 2 piece wasn't really helping her out). She was older with some snaggle teeth and a uni-brow. I'm not making any of this up!! In short, she was SCARY!!! When she motioned to me, it was like the witch in Snow White. I didn't want to go, but what could I do??! So, I took my loofah, towel and my scared self and headed to her a station. I layed down like the other women had and awaited what was to come. She started kind of hitting me to get my attention. She wanted me to change my position, but I couldn't figure out what she wanted me to do. So, I'm basically spinning like a hockey puck on this wet marble slab, doing 360's trying to figure out which direction she wants me to go. I thought I was gonna slip right off that thing.
After, I got the correct angle, she starts scrubbing with the loofah. This woman was strong! Good grief! I probably will be clean for weeks (actually, many Turks go to the hamam once a week-that's their bath for the week!). The scrubbing actually wasn't too bad, though I probably have a permanent crease in my foreheard from being a little tense during the whole process. After the scrubbing, you go rinse off agin (which makes you even more slippery on that marble slab) and they start to soap you up. Tim told me to make sure I closed my eyes tight and to be careful not to get water up my nose. Easier said than done. Suds were going everywhere. They were all in my eyes. So, I'm drowning in suds, blind as a bat, and can't breathe deeply. Then the soaping stopped. And then.... a huge bucket of water was dumped over my head. It seemed to go on forever. Just how big was that bucket?? I thought maybe this was a way of making me talk. Ok, lady, what do you want to know?? I was like a drowned rat and the buckets just kept coming. I still couldn't open my eyes because the suds were still in them. You know how when they wash your hair at the hairdress they tip your head backwards, so that shampoo doesn't get in your eyes? Apparently, this is not how they do it here. Seems like it would be the logical way to do it, but who am I to question hundreds of years of tradition?
Finally, the water torture was over and I was taken back to the basin area, where I could rinse any remaining soap off. After that, they took us to the jacuzzi. Ahhh, now this was going to be more like it. I put a foot in and yanked it back. It was freezing cold. If I got in I think I could have become an official member of the Polar Bear Club. Forget it, I thought, I've gone along with this long enough. I'm not doing this one. It's funny too, because the Turks are the ones who believe that drinking a cold drink can make you sick. Well, how about a huge pool of ice water, folks??
We finally went back to get our clothes and leave the hamam. As we were leaving, so were the employees-it was closing time. All the women had traded their two-pieces for long skirts, long sleeves, and head coverings. That was probably the most fascinating thing to me. There is such mystery associated with a woman in a head covering. What's under there? Whos' this woman of mystery? Inside the hamam, the mystery was revealed. The scarves were off and the bikinis were on. There was no modesty or inhibition (unfortunately:) in this place, which just further proved that Turkey is a paradox and very intriguing place.
I stepped out into the cold winter air and got in our car. Tim said, "How was it?" I pointed to my sopping wet, tangled hair and incredibly bloodshot eyes and said, "I got to see what they looked like without their headcoverings. It was fascinating." I have no great urge to go back anytime soon, but I'm so glad I was able to experience such an important part of Turkey's culture and history.
Ok, on to the hamam. The hamam is a Turkish bath. These places have existed for hundreds of years and are part of the Turkish culture. I'd heard about these places from Tim, who loves them. He kept saying I needed to try it. The opportunity presented itself when the German girl in my class wanted to go before she returned to Germany. Since I had a partner, I asked if Tim could drive us to this particular hamam (recommended to us) a bit outside the city. The hamam was in a town called Kecorin on the outskirts of Ankara and it looked like it was built by Disney. They had huge rock walls (man-made) with waterfalls coming down, amusement parks (looked like put-put and carnival rides) and it had cable cars that went back and forth above the city. At night they are lit up with neon colors. What a crazy place.
We made it to the hamam and Tim veered to the left (for the men) and we veered right (for the women). We were greeted by some very young, modern looking women who started spouting off Turkish to us and showing us charts and price lists. So much for our Turkish classes, we couldn't understand a daggone thing! We finally established that we needed to pay the entrance fee to the hamam, pay for a "massage", pay for a thin, dish-cloth type towel, and a kes, kind of like a loofah. They ushered us back to a changing room to put on our bathing suits. Then, we were taken to the first sauna. I actually hate saunas because I hate being hot and I have a fear of being locked inside. So for me, it wasn't very relaxing in the sauna, more like torture. After a few minutes, we were taken to another sauna, even worse than the first. This one was very small, hotter than the first one, and had some kind of minty-menthol smell, which I didn't like to breathe in. I almost bolted before they came back to get us.
After the torture of the saunas, they took us into the main area. It looked like something out of a novel. You walk through the door and see a huge white marble block in the middle of the room. There were a few women laying on those. Walking around with buckets of water and those loofah-type things, and all wearing modest black two-pieces (that really none of them should have been wearing) were the workers at the hamam. One of the women ushered my friend and I back to an alcove in the back where there were faucets with large marble basins underneath (a very, very old-fashioned type of sink). We were supposed to rinse ourselves off. Because we didn't understand the Turkish at first, she just grabbed a plastice bowl, filled it with water (which was cold) and dumped it over our heads. So, far the hamam was not the relaxing place I imagined it to be. After rinsing, this woman, took my friend with her to be scrubbed. They get the loofah really soapy and scrub you until you're almost raw. It's supposed to remove all the dead skin and get you really clean. As my friend left to go lay on the white marble block, I thought that I would just wait my turn and then that same woman would scrub me. Unfortunately, that would not be the case. I happened to look to the right of where my friend was only to see another lady motioning for me to come to her station. I immediately thought, "oh no." This lady was quite short and very stout, very, very stout (again, the 2 piece wasn't really helping her out). She was older with some snaggle teeth and a uni-brow. I'm not making any of this up!! In short, she was SCARY!!! When she motioned to me, it was like the witch in Snow White. I didn't want to go, but what could I do??! So, I took my loofah, towel and my scared self and headed to her a station. I layed down like the other women had and awaited what was to come. She started kind of hitting me to get my attention. She wanted me to change my position, but I couldn't figure out what she wanted me to do. So, I'm basically spinning like a hockey puck on this wet marble slab, doing 360's trying to figure out which direction she wants me to go. I thought I was gonna slip right off that thing.
After, I got the correct angle, she starts scrubbing with the loofah. This woman was strong! Good grief! I probably will be clean for weeks (actually, many Turks go to the hamam once a week-that's their bath for the week!). The scrubbing actually wasn't too bad, though I probably have a permanent crease in my foreheard from being a little tense during the whole process. After the scrubbing, you go rinse off agin (which makes you even more slippery on that marble slab) and they start to soap you up. Tim told me to make sure I closed my eyes tight and to be careful not to get water up my nose. Easier said than done. Suds were going everywhere. They were all in my eyes. So, I'm drowning in suds, blind as a bat, and can't breathe deeply. Then the soaping stopped. And then.... a huge bucket of water was dumped over my head. It seemed to go on forever. Just how big was that bucket?? I thought maybe this was a way of making me talk. Ok, lady, what do you want to know?? I was like a drowned rat and the buckets just kept coming. I still couldn't open my eyes because the suds were still in them. You know how when they wash your hair at the hairdress they tip your head backwards, so that shampoo doesn't get in your eyes? Apparently, this is not how they do it here. Seems like it would be the logical way to do it, but who am I to question hundreds of years of tradition?
Finally, the water torture was over and I was taken back to the basin area, where I could rinse any remaining soap off. After that, they took us to the jacuzzi. Ahhh, now this was going to be more like it. I put a foot in and yanked it back. It was freezing cold. If I got in I think I could have become an official member of the Polar Bear Club. Forget it, I thought, I've gone along with this long enough. I'm not doing this one. It's funny too, because the Turks are the ones who believe that drinking a cold drink can make you sick. Well, how about a huge pool of ice water, folks??
We finally went back to get our clothes and leave the hamam. As we were leaving, so were the employees-it was closing time. All the women had traded their two-pieces for long skirts, long sleeves, and head coverings. That was probably the most fascinating thing to me. There is such mystery associated with a woman in a head covering. What's under there? Whos' this woman of mystery? Inside the hamam, the mystery was revealed. The scarves were off and the bikinis were on. There was no modesty or inhibition (unfortunately:) in this place, which just further proved that Turkey is a paradox and very intriguing place.
I stepped out into the cold winter air and got in our car. Tim said, "How was it?" I pointed to my sopping wet, tangled hair and incredibly bloodshot eyes and said, "I got to see what they looked like without their headcoverings. It was fascinating." I have no great urge to go back anytime soon, but I'm so glad I was able to experience such an important part of Turkey's culture and history.
Random Stories
Here are a bunch of random and amusing things that don't really fit into a category...
-Yesterday Tim had a kid tell him that he had a really good reason why he had to miss soccer practice. Tim asked what it was. He said he had a terrible blister. Tim said that because of the blister he didn't have to run, but he still needed to come to practice. The kid said, "Well actually I have something going on at 4 today." Tim asked what that might be. After beating around the bush, the kid said "I have to pick up my Play Station. It was in the shop and is going to be ready today at 4." Needless to say, Tim didn't excuse him from practice:)
-Yesterday in Turkish class I was listening to the teacher explain a new vocabulary word. I was translating what she said into English in my head. I felt like I was doing well until my translation came out like this, "The police here in Ankara use police wolves." Hmmm... something got a little lost in translation:)
-Often when we go to the gas station, we leave with a gift. I kid you not. Just for buying gas, the attendant will come out with a gift for you. Currently we have gotten a salad bowl, wet wipes, and lightbulbs. Can't wait til our tank is empty so we see what we get next:)
-Apparently people here enjoy savory breakfasts. My teacher asked me the other day (in Turkish) what I eat for breakfast. I said, "Ben cereal yiyorum." She shook her head not knowing what "cereal" was. "Oatmeal," "waffles," (I didn't say bacon-our commissary is probably the only place you can get pork in the whole country-my Filippino friend begs me to bring her some bacon)...no response. She seemed to get frustrated and moved onto someone who ate a more "normal" breakfast- "normal" being tomatoes, cheese, and olives. Everyone said olives. What the heck? I refuse to be labeled as the weird one because I don't eat olives for breakfast!
-When I got frustrated the other day in class and couldn't think of a word, I said "shoot!" The whole class laughed and gasped (probably thinking it was a bad word). I said, "It's not a bad word! It's not a bad word!"
-Today in class we had to list as many Turkish words as we could in 2 minutes using the letters on the board. When time was up, we checked each others' papers, tallying the number of points each person got. I was checking the marriage proposal guy's paper. I don't know if it was a Freudian slip or what but this guy wrote the word for "my wife" and "Kate" was below it. That's Mrs. Kate to you, bub!
That's all for now! Gule Gule! (That means good-bye, but there should be 2 dots over each u. I don't have that feature on my keyboard:)
-Yesterday Tim had a kid tell him that he had a really good reason why he had to miss soccer practice. Tim asked what it was. He said he had a terrible blister. Tim said that because of the blister he didn't have to run, but he still needed to come to practice. The kid said, "Well actually I have something going on at 4 today." Tim asked what that might be. After beating around the bush, the kid said "I have to pick up my Play Station. It was in the shop and is going to be ready today at 4." Needless to say, Tim didn't excuse him from practice:)
-Yesterday in Turkish class I was listening to the teacher explain a new vocabulary word. I was translating what she said into English in my head. I felt like I was doing well until my translation came out like this, "The police here in Ankara use police wolves." Hmmm... something got a little lost in translation:)
-Often when we go to the gas station, we leave with a gift. I kid you not. Just for buying gas, the attendant will come out with a gift for you. Currently we have gotten a salad bowl, wet wipes, and lightbulbs. Can't wait til our tank is empty so we see what we get next:)
-Apparently people here enjoy savory breakfasts. My teacher asked me the other day (in Turkish) what I eat for breakfast. I said, "Ben cereal yiyorum." She shook her head not knowing what "cereal" was. "Oatmeal," "waffles," (I didn't say bacon-our commissary is probably the only place you can get pork in the whole country-my Filippino friend begs me to bring her some bacon)...no response. She seemed to get frustrated and moved onto someone who ate a more "normal" breakfast- "normal" being tomatoes, cheese, and olives. Everyone said olives. What the heck? I refuse to be labeled as the weird one because I don't eat olives for breakfast!
-When I got frustrated the other day in class and couldn't think of a word, I said "shoot!" The whole class laughed and gasped (probably thinking it was a bad word). I said, "It's not a bad word! It's not a bad word!"
-Today in class we had to list as many Turkish words as we could in 2 minutes using the letters on the board. When time was up, we checked each others' papers, tallying the number of points each person got. I was checking the marriage proposal guy's paper. I don't know if it was a Freudian slip or what but this guy wrote the word for "my wife" and "Kate" was below it. That's Mrs. Kate to you, bub!
That's all for now! Gule Gule! (That means good-bye, but there should be 2 dots over each u. I don't have that feature on my keyboard:)
Wednesday, March 4, 2009
Melting Pot
In my Turkish class there are a ton of other nationalities-Polish, Palestinian, Iranian, Russian, German, Filippino, Czech, Moroccan, Syrian, Korean, and me (the lone American). I really enjoy getting to know people from so many other countries. It makes class especially entertaining. With so many different cultural backgrounds, though, there is bound to be some weird stuff that happens-by weird, I mean things that don't happen or aren't acceptable in your own country. Things like the following.....
One gentleman in our class (I will not divulge his name or nationality) actually proposed to a girl in our class. He is 35 (well, that's what he claims, but I'm fairly sure he's really 45-we're not fooled, my friend) and she is about 20. One day he slipped her note that said, "I want to make romance and marriage with you." She of course refused (I can't imagine why) and was very upset by this. After all, they had never spoken in class. Not even a "Merhaba. Nasilsin?" (Hello. How are you?) had passed between them. This gentlemen, who is not a bad guy, could not fathom why on earth she would refuse him. He was truly baffled. He thought the problem must be with his english. So, he sought advice from me and another friend of mine. He wanted us to write for him, in English, "will you marry me?" so that he could give her a new note, hoping this time she'd truly understand. Oh, the message was clear the first time, pal. No other English phrase was going to get a yes out of the girl. I (Mrs. Kate as he calls me-thank goodness for the Mrs! I want no proposals!) had to write down for him why he could not propose. Tempted to say many things (you're way too old, I think you really want a visa to her country, you've never had a conversation with her except for the weird "Will you marry me?" one, etc.), I opted for a polite "You can't propose to someone you don't know." I still don't think he gets it. I'm not even totally faulting this guy because, who knows?? Maybe in his country it's totally acceptable to propose to a complete stranger 25 years your junior (I'm not even being sarcastic here). Again, let me repeat how thankful I am to wear some bling on my left hand and go by Mrs. Kate:)
Sometimes in class our teacher pairs us up and we have to have conversations with our partner (incredibly difficult to just come up with stuff to say and be gramatically correct when you've only been speaking Turkish for 2 weeks). Anyway, I got paired with a partner (again who's name and country will be kept confidential) who I've had "run-ins" with before. This kid is about 20 and seems to be just that to me-a kid. He just brings out the teacher in me-and I'm not talking about in the maternal way. I'm talking about "Stop interrupting people and rolling your eyes or I'm sending you to the principal and sending a note home to mom and dad." He is a bit of a know it all and tries to quickly get out an answer before the person who has been called upon can answer. This happened to me numerous times the first week until I finally just turned to him and put my hand to my mouth and said, "Shhh!" I really wanted to raise my hand and ask my teacher how to say "Shut your piehole" in Turkish, but I resisted. This same kind of stuff happened later when he was trying to finish the Korean girl's sentences. I think I gave him a teacher look then too. So, this week we were paired together. We were supposed to interview each other about what we did in a day (we had written a composition on the topic the night before). Again, since I'm not a native Turkish speaker, I'm slow in being able to say what I want. So, he would just finish my sentences for me and start to write down something I didn't want him to. I was getting very, very frustrated. He was getting huffy and making noises like he was totally bored and didn't want to do this assignment. At one point I think I said out loud that he was lazy and had a bad attitude, but I know he didn't understand it. I was just incredibly annoyed with his terrible attitude and lack of manners. So, then I say in Turkish, "At night we watch tv." I knew I said it correctly and used the correct verb, but he insisted that was wrong (even though that was the verb we'd learned). He REFUSED to write what I said and in a snotty tone said, "I write what I want." I was hot at this point, and though usually I'm just the type to smile and not say anything, I couldn't let it go. Quite honestly, I thought he was pulling a "I'm a man and because of that I'm better than you and don't have to listen to you." Nothing irks me more. So, I went back to the paper where I had written down what he said to me when I was interviewing him and I scratched out one of his verbs (dramatically, I might add) and said, "I write what I want." He later crumpled up what he'd written about me, tore it a little, and left it on the desk. Too bad he needed that paper for our homework assignment that night and he didn't have it.:) I don't remember the last time I've been that mad. I know as I exited the building that day and walked down the street to get my taxi, everything was a blur and my face was hot and probably red.
Well, Turkish class is always an adventure, to say the least. The annoying kid has made some subtle ammends. I'll probably still give him a chocolate chip cookie when I bring some to class tomorrow. Since a woman belongs in the kitchen, he'll probably accept. Ok, sorry, for the women's lib. rant, but it's ridiculous that sexism still exists in 2009. Oh, and by the way, the next day we used a sentence about watching tv. My verb was right:)
One gentleman in our class (I will not divulge his name or nationality) actually proposed to a girl in our class. He is 35 (well, that's what he claims, but I'm fairly sure he's really 45-we're not fooled, my friend) and she is about 20. One day he slipped her note that said, "I want to make romance and marriage with you." She of course refused (I can't imagine why) and was very upset by this. After all, they had never spoken in class. Not even a "Merhaba. Nasilsin?" (Hello. How are you?) had passed between them. This gentlemen, who is not a bad guy, could not fathom why on earth she would refuse him. He was truly baffled. He thought the problem must be with his english. So, he sought advice from me and another friend of mine. He wanted us to write for him, in English, "will you marry me?" so that he could give her a new note, hoping this time she'd truly understand. Oh, the message was clear the first time, pal. No other English phrase was going to get a yes out of the girl. I (Mrs. Kate as he calls me-thank goodness for the Mrs! I want no proposals!) had to write down for him why he could not propose. Tempted to say many things (you're way too old, I think you really want a visa to her country, you've never had a conversation with her except for the weird "Will you marry me?" one, etc.), I opted for a polite "You can't propose to someone you don't know." I still don't think he gets it. I'm not even totally faulting this guy because, who knows?? Maybe in his country it's totally acceptable to propose to a complete stranger 25 years your junior (I'm not even being sarcastic here). Again, let me repeat how thankful I am to wear some bling on my left hand and go by Mrs. Kate:)
Sometimes in class our teacher pairs us up and we have to have conversations with our partner (incredibly difficult to just come up with stuff to say and be gramatically correct when you've only been speaking Turkish for 2 weeks). Anyway, I got paired with a partner (again who's name and country will be kept confidential) who I've had "run-ins" with before. This kid is about 20 and seems to be just that to me-a kid. He just brings out the teacher in me-and I'm not talking about in the maternal way. I'm talking about "Stop interrupting people and rolling your eyes or I'm sending you to the principal and sending a note home to mom and dad." He is a bit of a know it all and tries to quickly get out an answer before the person who has been called upon can answer. This happened to me numerous times the first week until I finally just turned to him and put my hand to my mouth and said, "Shhh!" I really wanted to raise my hand and ask my teacher how to say "Shut your piehole" in Turkish, but I resisted. This same kind of stuff happened later when he was trying to finish the Korean girl's sentences. I think I gave him a teacher look then too. So, this week we were paired together. We were supposed to interview each other about what we did in a day (we had written a composition on the topic the night before). Again, since I'm not a native Turkish speaker, I'm slow in being able to say what I want. So, he would just finish my sentences for me and start to write down something I didn't want him to. I was getting very, very frustrated. He was getting huffy and making noises like he was totally bored and didn't want to do this assignment. At one point I think I said out loud that he was lazy and had a bad attitude, but I know he didn't understand it. I was just incredibly annoyed with his terrible attitude and lack of manners. So, then I say in Turkish, "At night we watch tv." I knew I said it correctly and used the correct verb, but he insisted that was wrong (even though that was the verb we'd learned). He REFUSED to write what I said and in a snotty tone said, "I write what I want." I was hot at this point, and though usually I'm just the type to smile and not say anything, I couldn't let it go. Quite honestly, I thought he was pulling a "I'm a man and because of that I'm better than you and don't have to listen to you." Nothing irks me more. So, I went back to the paper where I had written down what he said to me when I was interviewing him and I scratched out one of his verbs (dramatically, I might add) and said, "I write what I want." He later crumpled up what he'd written about me, tore it a little, and left it on the desk. Too bad he needed that paper for our homework assignment that night and he didn't have it.:) I don't remember the last time I've been that mad. I know as I exited the building that day and walked down the street to get my taxi, everything was a blur and my face was hot and probably red.
Well, Turkish class is always an adventure, to say the least. The annoying kid has made some subtle ammends. I'll probably still give him a chocolate chip cookie when I bring some to class tomorrow. Since a woman belongs in the kitchen, he'll probably accept. Ok, sorry, for the women's lib. rant, but it's ridiculous that sexism still exists in 2009. Oh, and by the way, the next day we used a sentence about watching tv. My verb was right:)
Sunday, March 1, 2009
Turkish Class-Day 1
I almost quit Turkish class before I even began, even though the day started out with such promise. I got up extra early, eating a good breakfast and carefully picked out my 1st day of school outfit (an outfit I'd later regret in the intense heat of the classroom). Tim showed me a map of where the school was, explained the route the taxi driver would take, and made sure I had plenty of money. I left the house extra early and the cab driver had no problem getting me to the TOMER building. TOMER is the name of the language school.
I got there extra early because I needed to pay and do a bit more registration. That's what the lady on the phone had told me. I had pre-registered by email and phone. The lady said it was all taken care of. The thing is, in Turkey you never know if you've really gotten a correct answer or know if the conversation you've just had was understood by the other party. This lady convinced me there would be no problem.
I went into the building and followed the international masses up the concrete spiral staircase to the 2nd floor (though in the States we'd say it was the 3rd floor-it's tricky because you always walk up one more flight than you think you'll have to) to the registration area. I was still in good spirits and expecting things to go smoothly as I waited in line. I need to emphasize the word "I" because I quickly learned that others did not seem to think waiting in line was important and proceeded to cut in front of me. This is when I was thinking, "Where I come from, we form lines." But, as previously mentioned I did not say anything that was running through my head. I was slightly irritated as I got up to the receptionist. She let out a fast chain of Turkish words and looked to me as if I should understand. I put out my hands, smiled, and shrugged my shoulders. She let out more Turkish words. This wasn't working. I started using single words, hoping to spark some level of understanding, "Katherine Redden"-nothing, "pre-application,"-nothing, "Level 1" (as in I don't speak Turkish-that's why I'm here!!!!!!!!!!!!)-nothing. In the middle of this communication, she left to go fix herself some tea, as me and a bunch of other 1st day students waited. I was starting to get frustrated and hot. Who's bright idea was it to wear a blanket of wool for a dress today? She came back from getting her tea and motioned me to step aside and wait. That was about the time I was contemplating quitting. I thought, "If this is how they run a business, than I don't want to take classes here." Before I could do anything, though, a tiny little Turkish man appeared, apprarently an "english" speaker. I was hopeful, but quickly realized he spoke about 3 words more than the receptionist. When I tried to tell him that I had registered on-line, he ushered me to a computer because he thought I wanted to check e-mail. We finally went back to the receptionist and I just handed her my passport (for the 2nd time, let me point out). All the sudden she found me in the system (before, she checked and seemed to find nothing). I filled out some paperwork (which included writing down my mother and father's surnames-no idea why, but it's standard policy here) and then it was time to pay. The website clearly said US dollars would be accepted. So Tim had gotten dollars out on the base the day before. Of course dollars weren't accepted. Why? Because everything on the webiste was WRONG! The older man standing next to me and eavesdropping on this whole proceeding said, "Dollars yok." "Yeah, I got that, buddy. Thanks for the help," I thought. So, I used my credit card and then she motioned for me to go upstairs and get 2 photocopies of my passport. I gave her a look like, "Are you kidding me????" I pointed to the clock, that now showed that it was 9:00, time for my class to start. It didn't matter. Apparently, I had to get these photocopies if I wanted entrance into the class. So, I turned around was really angry. I start to walk out of the room. Now, in Turkey there are little ledges on the floor in doorways. One minute you're walking on flat ground, the next you're walking through a doorway over a huge step that comes out of nowhere. So, not realizing this particularly frustrating feature about my new country of residence, I completely didn't see it (because really, why would you build a step in the middle of the floor?). So, my shoe caught on the edge of it and I went flying and landed on my hands and knees. (To this day, I do not know who in my class saw that happen and I really don't want to know.) When I picked myself up off the floor, I couldn't bring myself to look down at my knees. I was really afraid there were holes in each of the knees of my tights (thankfully, there were not). I walked up 3 more flights of stairs, got the copies, walked back down and handed them to the receptionist. She finally gave me my entrance card and receipt. I turned to walk out the door and the eavesdropping man made a gesture like, "Watch out for the step." That just bugged me even more.
So, I climbed 4 flights of stairs (I didn't want to wait for the elevator and I don't trust them here) and walked into my class, huffing and puffing, and trying to put on a smile. Everyone was stonefaced, except one Filipino lady who smiled at me and then a German. I looked for a seat and there were no more chairs. Nobody got up to help me, so I went next store and got my own chair. After me, 2 more Polish girls came in and no one helped them, so I showed them where some chairs were.
About 9:10 our teacher walked in and started rattling off Turkish. Oh...so there would be no English at all. This was how it was going to be. Oh shoot, I'm in trouble. I'm "skeered." Things improved though (at least socially), because we all moved to a bigger classroom. When we picked our new seats, I sat by the German and Filipino girls. They have become very good friends and I have actually enjoyed class because of them.
I have many more stories about my adventures in Turkish class, but I will save those because my husband says that I have abandoned him for the blog. I think he's ready to eat dinner:)
More stories to come soon. I have come along way since my first day in class. I'm glad I didn't walk out the door that first day because I would have missed out on some really wonderful experiences both with this new language and new international friends.
I got there extra early because I needed to pay and do a bit more registration. That's what the lady on the phone had told me. I had pre-registered by email and phone. The lady said it was all taken care of. The thing is, in Turkey you never know if you've really gotten a correct answer or know if the conversation you've just had was understood by the other party. This lady convinced me there would be no problem.
I went into the building and followed the international masses up the concrete spiral staircase to the 2nd floor (though in the States we'd say it was the 3rd floor-it's tricky because you always walk up one more flight than you think you'll have to) to the registration area. I was still in good spirits and expecting things to go smoothly as I waited in line. I need to emphasize the word "I" because I quickly learned that others did not seem to think waiting in line was important and proceeded to cut in front of me. This is when I was thinking, "Where I come from, we form lines." But, as previously mentioned I did not say anything that was running through my head. I was slightly irritated as I got up to the receptionist. She let out a fast chain of Turkish words and looked to me as if I should understand. I put out my hands, smiled, and shrugged my shoulders. She let out more Turkish words. This wasn't working. I started using single words, hoping to spark some level of understanding, "Katherine Redden"-nothing, "pre-application,"-nothing, "Level 1" (as in I don't speak Turkish-that's why I'm here!!!!!!!!!!!!)-nothing. In the middle of this communication, she left to go fix herself some tea, as me and a bunch of other 1st day students waited. I was starting to get frustrated and hot. Who's bright idea was it to wear a blanket of wool for a dress today? She came back from getting her tea and motioned me to step aside and wait. That was about the time I was contemplating quitting. I thought, "If this is how they run a business, than I don't want to take classes here." Before I could do anything, though, a tiny little Turkish man appeared, apprarently an "english" speaker. I was hopeful, but quickly realized he spoke about 3 words more than the receptionist. When I tried to tell him that I had registered on-line, he ushered me to a computer because he thought I wanted to check e-mail. We finally went back to the receptionist and I just handed her my passport (for the 2nd time, let me point out). All the sudden she found me in the system (before, she checked and seemed to find nothing). I filled out some paperwork (which included writing down my mother and father's surnames-no idea why, but it's standard policy here) and then it was time to pay. The website clearly said US dollars would be accepted. So Tim had gotten dollars out on the base the day before. Of course dollars weren't accepted. Why? Because everything on the webiste was WRONG! The older man standing next to me and eavesdropping on this whole proceeding said, "Dollars yok." "Yeah, I got that, buddy. Thanks for the help," I thought. So, I used my credit card and then she motioned for me to go upstairs and get 2 photocopies of my passport. I gave her a look like, "Are you kidding me????" I pointed to the clock, that now showed that it was 9:00, time for my class to start. It didn't matter. Apparently, I had to get these photocopies if I wanted entrance into the class. So, I turned around was really angry. I start to walk out of the room. Now, in Turkey there are little ledges on the floor in doorways. One minute you're walking on flat ground, the next you're walking through a doorway over a huge step that comes out of nowhere. So, not realizing this particularly frustrating feature about my new country of residence, I completely didn't see it (because really, why would you build a step in the middle of the floor?). So, my shoe caught on the edge of it and I went flying and landed on my hands and knees. (To this day, I do not know who in my class saw that happen and I really don't want to know.) When I picked myself up off the floor, I couldn't bring myself to look down at my knees. I was really afraid there were holes in each of the knees of my tights (thankfully, there were not). I walked up 3 more flights of stairs, got the copies, walked back down and handed them to the receptionist. She finally gave me my entrance card and receipt. I turned to walk out the door and the eavesdropping man made a gesture like, "Watch out for the step." That just bugged me even more.
So, I climbed 4 flights of stairs (I didn't want to wait for the elevator and I don't trust them here) and walked into my class, huffing and puffing, and trying to put on a smile. Everyone was stonefaced, except one Filipino lady who smiled at me and then a German. I looked for a seat and there were no more chairs. Nobody got up to help me, so I went next store and got my own chair. After me, 2 more Polish girls came in and no one helped them, so I showed them where some chairs were.
About 9:10 our teacher walked in and started rattling off Turkish. Oh...so there would be no English at all. This was how it was going to be. Oh shoot, I'm in trouble. I'm "skeered." Things improved though (at least socially), because we all moved to a bigger classroom. When we picked our new seats, I sat by the German and Filipino girls. They have become very good friends and I have actually enjoyed class because of them.
I have many more stories about my adventures in Turkish class, but I will save those because my husband says that I have abandoned him for the blog. I think he's ready to eat dinner:)
More stories to come soon. I have come along way since my first day in class. I'm glad I didn't walk out the door that first day because I would have missed out on some really wonderful experiences both with this new language and new international friends.
The Return of Turkey Tales
Hos Geldiniz! That means "Welcome!" I really mean "Welcome Back," but I don't know how exactly to say that. It's been awhile, but I'm back and armed with stories. Never a dull moment in Turkey-that's for sure!!
I'm currently sitting here in our living room at the computer, as Tim hovers over me and makes sure I finish my Theraflu drink. I do not recommend it! I'm notorious for not finishing drinks I like, so finishing this is torture. We've had a nice lazy afternoon of napping and watching Iron Chef. A perfect Sunday.:) Ok, well I napped and Tim worked on school stuff, if I'm going to be honest.
Tim's been sick for the last couple days (Ankara has really been hit hard this winter) and I'm trying to prevent myself from getting it. I haven't gotten sick since coming to Turkey. It's amazing how healthy you can be when you're not teaching children!
Boys Soccer starts tomorrow, so Tim is trying to eat bananas and drink oj and theraflu so he will be up to running with them. I think he's just a little bit excited. Yesterday he spent all afternoon planning the next 3 weeks of practice! He has a bunch of new training equipment, new soccer gear, and new ideas of how to coach them. It sounds like they'll have a really great team and could do really well in the DODDS championship. With so many international kids on his team, they could have an advantage over primarily American teams. I have a team jacket, which I will wear with pride to support the team, even though I know little about soccer (except what I learned in 7th gr. PE).
Ok, I'm going to choke down the rest of my nasty Theraflu and go on to the next blog entry. Hope you enjoy reading them!
I'm currently sitting here in our living room at the computer, as Tim hovers over me and makes sure I finish my Theraflu drink. I do not recommend it! I'm notorious for not finishing drinks I like, so finishing this is torture. We've had a nice lazy afternoon of napping and watching Iron Chef. A perfect Sunday.:) Ok, well I napped and Tim worked on school stuff, if I'm going to be honest.
Tim's been sick for the last couple days (Ankara has really been hit hard this winter) and I'm trying to prevent myself from getting it. I haven't gotten sick since coming to Turkey. It's amazing how healthy you can be when you're not teaching children!
Boys Soccer starts tomorrow, so Tim is trying to eat bananas and drink oj and theraflu so he will be up to running with them. I think he's just a little bit excited. Yesterday he spent all afternoon planning the next 3 weeks of practice! He has a bunch of new training equipment, new soccer gear, and new ideas of how to coach them. It sounds like they'll have a really great team and could do really well in the DODDS championship. With so many international kids on his team, they could have an advantage over primarily American teams. I have a team jacket, which I will wear with pride to support the team, even though I know little about soccer (except what I learned in 7th gr. PE).
Ok, I'm going to choke down the rest of my nasty Theraflu and go on to the next blog entry. Hope you enjoy reading them!
Thursday, February 26, 2009
Well, folks, it's been awhile!!! Many of you have asked, "Where are you? Why are there no new blogs? What are you doing?" Let me tell, you, it's not for lack of stories. I have stories galore!!!!!!!!!!!!! I have not had time to write of late because of these intense Turkish classes I've been taking and other new responsibilities that I suddenly have. I've also wanted to do these very crazy and funny stories justice by having enough time to write them properly:) Tonight, I don't have that time. I promise I will write extensively this weekend!! But, just to tide you over til' then, here are some highlights to whet your whistle:)
-My first day of Turkish class was a disaster. Here are the thoughts that went through my head, but I did not say out aloud (probably smart)..."If we were in America, I could sue the pants off of you for this." "What the heck??? Who in their right mind would put that there??" "For crying out loud, I don't speak Turkish!!!! That's why I'm here!!!" "Where I come from we form lines." "I DON'T SPEAK TURKISH!!!" "Oh, shoot do I have holes in the knees of my tights?" "I am in level 1 Turkish. I can't even count to 3! I DON'T SPEAK TURKISH!!!" "Why on earth do you need my mother's maiden name?" "You might want to update your website since almost every piece of information on it is WRONG!!" "I DON'T SPEAK TURKISH!!!!"
-Our romantic Valentine's dinner consisted of a bowl of a salty Turkish yogurt drink called ayran and some raw meatballs (I was bamboozled! My husband neglected to tell me they weren't made of red coucous when I took a huge bite. It's only now funny.) Ok, we had some other food besides that, but those were the most memorable.
-On the way to pick up some pictures we were having pictures framed, I looked out the car window, only to see several gentlemen butchering a sheep. Tim about ran off the road when I screamed.
-I really like the students in my Turkish class! They are from all over-Palestine, Iran, Syria, Poland, Czech Republic, Korea, Germany, Morroco, and the Phillipines. Everybody brings something very unique to the class. The funny thing is that even with such an international mix, there are still the "nerdy kids," the cool kids (me)...just kidding, the over achievers, the goof offs, etc. One thing unites us all...everyone loves an Oreo:) I took some to share during our break and came back with an empty ziplock bag.
-Alright, I have to go work on to, from, and on/in/at in the present tense. Gotta love homework. There is also a piece of peanutbutter chocolate pie that is calling my name:)
More to come very soon!!!!!
-My first day of Turkish class was a disaster. Here are the thoughts that went through my head, but I did not say out aloud (probably smart)..."If we were in America, I could sue the pants off of you for this." "What the heck??? Who in their right mind would put that there??" "For crying out loud, I don't speak Turkish!!!! That's why I'm here!!!" "Where I come from we form lines." "I DON'T SPEAK TURKISH!!!" "Oh, shoot do I have holes in the knees of my tights?" "I am in level 1 Turkish. I can't even count to 3! I DON'T SPEAK TURKISH!!!" "Why on earth do you need my mother's maiden name?" "You might want to update your website since almost every piece of information on it is WRONG!!" "I DON'T SPEAK TURKISH!!!!"
-Our romantic Valentine's dinner consisted of a bowl of a salty Turkish yogurt drink called ayran and some raw meatballs (I was bamboozled! My husband neglected to tell me they weren't made of red coucous when I took a huge bite. It's only now funny.) Ok, we had some other food besides that, but those were the most memorable.
-On the way to pick up some pictures we were having pictures framed, I looked out the car window, only to see several gentlemen butchering a sheep. Tim about ran off the road when I screamed.
-I really like the students in my Turkish class! They are from all over-Palestine, Iran, Syria, Poland, Czech Republic, Korea, Germany, Morroco, and the Phillipines. Everybody brings something very unique to the class. The funny thing is that even with such an international mix, there are still the "nerdy kids," the cool kids (me)...just kidding, the over achievers, the goof offs, etc. One thing unites us all...everyone loves an Oreo:) I took some to share during our break and came back with an empty ziplock bag.
-Alright, I have to go work on to, from, and on/in/at in the present tense. Gotta love homework. There is also a piece of peanutbutter chocolate pie that is calling my name:)
More to come very soon!!!!!
Monday, February 9, 2009
Some Surprises
Well, Tim got back safely from the wrestling tournament in Germany. While I did not enjoy having him away for 3 days, I did enjoy the presents he brought back- a chocolate bar flavored with chili pepper, the 1st season of 30 Rock, and a turbo hair dryer. What more could a girl ask for?! Since being in Turkey, I've been using the teeny,tiny travel hairdryer Tim has. I've mostly gone curly because that hair dryer just doesn't do the job on my hair. One of the other wrestling coaches saw Tim buying the hair dryer and said, "Are you buying a Valentine's present for your wife?" Tim said, "No. This is not a present, but a necessity. You met my wife. Have you seen how much hair she has? She's been using a tiny hair dryer for the last month. She needs this really badly."
While, Tim was away there were some interesting things going on here. I went to the community theatre auditions on Saturday. After the auditions were over, I decided to walk home. This meant walking up Cinnah Cadessi (Cinnah Street). I knew this street was extremely long and steep, but I really had no idea how true that was. I have never walked up a street so long or so steep in my life. When I started out, I was walking at a quick pace and way out-walking the Turks. I felt pretty good about my level of fitness, until about mid-way up the street. I figured out why they were walking slower. They were pacing themselves because they knew what was coming. With every step, I wanted to hail a cab, but I knew I wouldn't have as good of a story for Tim or for the blog. And so, I pressed on. When I got to the top of the street (aka mountain), I could look out over the whole city and surrounding areas! My chest was also burning when I got to the top. The pollution is terrible. Unfortunately, my journey wasn't over at the top because I still had another mile or two to walk home. All in all, it probably took me over an hour to walk home.
On Sunday, I drove to church (which is on the base) for the first time all by myself. It's a good time to drive because there aren't many people out at that time. Everything went smoothly and I felt good having that independence. After church, I went to get ingredients at the commisary. I was planning a special welcome home dinner for Tim consisting of White Chicken Chili and Extreme Cornbread (a family favorite). I started preparing it in late afternoon, cutting 2 onions while crying buckets, measuring spices, etc. Then it was time to put in the chicken. I got my chicken breasts out and began to start cubing them. I grabbed the first breast . Hmm.. what was that underneath it? Looked kind of like a fingernail. I inspected more closely. And then I screamed. I didn't know whether to cry or throw up, but I knew for sure this sealed the deal. I was going to become a vegetarian because what I was looking at was a small chicken claw. Oh yes, you read it right. I didn't make this up and yes, I'm sure it was a claw. I was paralyzed and in shock. I couldn't touch that chicken so I used every utensil I could find to maneuver that chicken off the baking sheet and into the trash.
This came after the feather incident. We bought some Turkish eggs because the commisary was closed. Tim said, "Oh, I've heard that you need to make sure you rinse those well. They don't wash them in the factory." I found a feather or two stuck to an egg. That about sent me over the edge. Let me also remind everyone that I have an extreme fear of birds,especially chickens, so these incidents were particularly disturbing for me.
When Tim came home, I said "I have some bad news. We'll be having vegetarian chili. There was an incidident. A very traumatic incident." When I told him the story, he was doubled over and laughing so hard he was crying.
So, not only did I end up with a chocolate bar, a 30 Rock DVD, and a hair dryer, but also a husband's promise that from now on, he would prepare the chicken:) Whether or not I eat it, remains to be seen.
While, Tim was away there were some interesting things going on here. I went to the community theatre auditions on Saturday. After the auditions were over, I decided to walk home. This meant walking up Cinnah Cadessi (Cinnah Street). I knew this street was extremely long and steep, but I really had no idea how true that was. I have never walked up a street so long or so steep in my life. When I started out, I was walking at a quick pace and way out-walking the Turks. I felt pretty good about my level of fitness, until about mid-way up the street. I figured out why they were walking slower. They were pacing themselves because they knew what was coming. With every step, I wanted to hail a cab, but I knew I wouldn't have as good of a story for Tim or for the blog. And so, I pressed on. When I got to the top of the street (aka mountain), I could look out over the whole city and surrounding areas! My chest was also burning when I got to the top. The pollution is terrible. Unfortunately, my journey wasn't over at the top because I still had another mile or two to walk home. All in all, it probably took me over an hour to walk home.
On Sunday, I drove to church (which is on the base) for the first time all by myself. It's a good time to drive because there aren't many people out at that time. Everything went smoothly and I felt good having that independence. After church, I went to get ingredients at the commisary. I was planning a special welcome home dinner for Tim consisting of White Chicken Chili and Extreme Cornbread (a family favorite). I started preparing it in late afternoon, cutting 2 onions while crying buckets, measuring spices, etc. Then it was time to put in the chicken. I got my chicken breasts out and began to start cubing them. I grabbed the first breast . Hmm.. what was that underneath it? Looked kind of like a fingernail. I inspected more closely. And then I screamed. I didn't know whether to cry or throw up, but I knew for sure this sealed the deal. I was going to become a vegetarian because what I was looking at was a small chicken claw. Oh yes, you read it right. I didn't make this up and yes, I'm sure it was a claw. I was paralyzed and in shock. I couldn't touch that chicken so I used every utensil I could find to maneuver that chicken off the baking sheet and into the trash.
This came after the feather incident. We bought some Turkish eggs because the commisary was closed. Tim said, "Oh, I've heard that you need to make sure you rinse those well. They don't wash them in the factory." I found a feather or two stuck to an egg. That about sent me over the edge. Let me also remind everyone that I have an extreme fear of birds,especially chickens, so these incidents were particularly disturbing for me.
When Tim came home, I said "I have some bad news. We'll be having vegetarian chili. There was an incidident. A very traumatic incident." When I told him the story, he was doubled over and laughing so hard he was crying.
So, not only did I end up with a chocolate bar, a 30 Rock DVD, and a hair dryer, but also a husband's promise that from now on, he would prepare the chicken:) Whether or not I eat it, remains to be seen.
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