Turkey's Independence Day

Yesterday morning I was lounging around in my pajamas when I heard music from a marching band waft up to my apartment. I threw on some clothes and ran a brush through my hair only to get to the bottom of the hill to find everything was normal. The marching band was gone.

This evening I tried out a new Internet cafe that faced one of the main shopping streets from the second floor. Looking around the joint, I decided to sit at a computer next to the window, as I love looking at people when they don't know they're being looked at. (Don't we all? This activity used to be a favorite of mine when I was in college. My best friend and I lived in the dorms above the cafeteria and would spy on the everyone as they came to dinner or lunch.) Less than an hour of dinking around on the Internet had passed when I heard the same music from the previous morning. The whole cafe crowded around my window as I fumbled to get my camera out of my purse. It was a small parade, consisting of about 50 to 75 people walking behind the band waving sparklers and Turkish flags of all sizes. I couldn't get a picture from there, so I ended my Internet activites and headed for the park in the center of town. I got there just in time for the last speech under that statue of Ataturk. It's just as well I missed the speeches for two reasons: they weren't amplified at all making it difficult to hear with all the passing traffic and I wouldn't have been able to understand them anyway. The excitement began right after that and only lasted about 10 minutes. (Notice the statue of Ataturk on the left.)





One guy who had an enourmous flag also had enormous red sparklers and shot a couple of them off in which people clapped and cheered wildly. Some people began to leave at this point (the crowd was now about 100 to 150 people). I didn't want to leave just yet, so I pressed a little closer and noticed a group of people jumping in unison, much like people jump when jumping rope. They started pushing people back so they could form a line which eventually grew into a circle. An older man ran around the center of the circle singing and playing the kemenche, a small stringed instument played with a bow, much like the viol back in the Renaissance, except that you don't have to sit to play. Sometimes the kemenche is called the Turkish Violin. Check out this website to see what it looks like: http://www.kemence.com/eng/tarih.htm

I could barely hear the instrument and failed to get a picture of the guy playing it because for some reason, my camera takes a picture a full 5 seconds after you push the button. Ah well.



Enormous flag and sparkle man dazzled the crowd once more with his huge red firework by lighting it in the middle of the crowd, which you can sort of see in this blury picture here.

There didn't seem to be much else happening, so I went to another Internet cafe. Half an hour later I heard drumming and the loudest clarinet ever! Why was I sitting in front of a computer? I ran back outside only to find the park not every excititng. Then I heard a crowd cheering somewhere to the east, so I followed the sound for about a block. People were crowding around to see something, what I wasn't quite sure, but they were hanging off balconies and waving their flags frantically. As I let myself be swallowed by the mass of people, I could make out a small stage decorated with red and white balloons. Pretty soon a man playing the baglama (bah-la-ma, this website's namesake) began playing, and my heart nearly melted. I love this instrument! A few of the people around me began to sing and dance along. A zurna (the loud clarinet I heard earlier) and a drum soon joined the baglama player, but the crowd grew restless. I was completely fascinated with what was happening on stage; I love Turkish folk music.

What's the zurna like? I hear you asking. It is not exactly like the clarinet commonly found in Europe and the States. It's a double-reeded instrument with no keys with a bright, clear sound, a bit like the oboe. The way the guy played made me think of the bagpipes because I didn't hear a break for breath once. Sometimes it sounded like two zurnas were playing, but my friend who showed told me that indeed it was just one. Oh! my friend!



(The sign behind the guys says "Municipality of Trabzon Independence Night"

As I was listening to this music, I thought to myself, "I wish there was someone here who could explain what was going on." I sometimes think there is a magic fairy that follows me around and grants certain wishes that I have, because not 10 minutes later I heard someone calling my name from behind.

"Nicole!" yelled a male Turkish accent. I love the way Turks say my name. Americans skip over the first syllable and draw out the second in the back of the mouth, 'nih-coal', while Germans make the first syllable longer, 'nee-cole'. The Turks say it staccatto like, shortening the second syllable barely pronouncing the 'l', like 'nee-coh(l)!' But I digress.

I turned to my left and saw a guy who clearly knew me, but I couldn't place him. He didn't speak English to me, so he wasn't one of my students. 'Who is this guy?' I thought. Aha! He's one of the guys from the laundromat! There are about five of them who run the joint, and for about $5 I can get a load of laundry washed, dried, and ironed (even my underwear!). Two nights ago they asked me if I could help them with a new edition of their brochure. They want to have it available in four languages to drop off at the tourism office: German, French, English, and Turkish. Would I help them with the English version? they asked me. I admitted that my Turkish is not great, but I would do my best. I thought I might be able to do the German for them as well, but after trying to talk with my aunt in Germany and having one hell of a time thinking in German, I don't think I'll be able to do that. Muti, as he is called, explained to me that the people were really here to see some other famous musician, which explained the crowd's restlessnes. They began booing the zurna player, who was alone now. Eventually he got off stage and a woman said a bunch of stuff in Turkish. After she stopped talking, the crowd cheered wildly, and huge stage sparklers went off. Check it out the balloons.





I thought the balloons would catch fire! They didn't though, they just popped. The guy who came on stage was Volkan Konak, a guy who has several hits right now. I hear him all the time when I go to the Internet cafe (appropriately named) Konak. For the 45 minutes that I stayed there, I recognized three songs. If you want to hear his songs, click here to find his MP3s. http://www.turkishsongs.net/artist.asp?artist=418 (You have to register.) His song Dido is one that I recognize. Muti was very cool to have around, because every so often some guys would come pushing their way through, and Muti would tell them to be more polite. He also would help me find a closer space when one opened up so I could get a better view. At one point I was stuck behind some super tall guys and Muti convinced them to let me stand in front of them.

Unbeknownst to me, there was also a Trabzonspor soccer game that night. (Trabzonspor is the local football team who recently won the Turkish Cup or something like that and is currently the best soccer team in the country) At one point the Trabzonspor flag made it's way around the crowd. It was enormous! People passed it spread out above the crowd, trapping body heat and smoke where ever it went. They were celebrating the victory of creaming the Diyabakirspor team, 4 to 1. (Diyabakir is in southeastern Turkey.)



It passed over us twice. That's what this blurry image is about. It was really hot under that thing. Phew!

Soon after the crowd started getting more rowdy and I'd had enough. Muti walked me out of the crowd and towards my way home. I showed him the general direction of the school and he said he would be an advertiser, sending every one there instead of the other three English schools in town. He also told me he would find a baglama teacher for me! Oooo, how exciting! He hopped in a dolmush and I climbed my way up the hill, satisfied that I had had an eventful night.

Talking to People

Today I did something that I rarely do. I walked into a store, asked about something, and walked out. Yay!

I am still a bit intimidated about going shopping alone, but every weekend I get one step closer to actually buying something. Today I got three pictures printed from my camera. I am so proud of myself, because I was able to shop around for the best price. Woo hoo!

The weather is beautiful today, so I'm getting off the computer now. Ta ta!

Preaching to the Choir

I'm sure you all are not voting for Bush, but let me share with you a website that my friend Cody sent me. She saw this guy speak on Sunday. He's one of the few unembedded US reporters in Iraq. He was in Fallujah during the massacre in April. He's showing what the corporate media won't.

www.dahrjamailiraq.com

It's ridiculous, really. How much money has been allocated for the rebuilding of Iraq? A tiny fraction of it has been spent. These people have no garbage collection, no electricity, no water. They are pushing their cars to gas stations to save on fuel. In this oil-rich country, people do not have access to oil! It's sold on the black market. There are countless unexploded bombs, in Baghdad and in farmer's field's around the city. Why do people like Bush? I haven't a clue.

Years from now, artifacts from this war will end up in a museum, much like the veterans museum on the capital square in Madison: tanks, guns, unused bulltes, uniforms, photos from soldiers. What may not end up in the museum are the real life consequences, the human tradgies that have occured. I hope that the future curators of this museum are wise and communicate to the public the sacrifices that people make when their country is torn apart by war.

Grrr.

Extra, extra! See all about it!

Here are some photos that I haven't been able to put on, or forgot to put up recently.



From what I heard, fishermen don't have life jackets or any other safety device out there them. They fish alone and stand like this. I'm not sure how far they go out, but they are a common sight while looking out at the sea.



This the salad commonly served with meatballs. Beans, lettuce, tomato, carrot and some white bean that is rather delicious. Drizzle a bit of lemon and sprinkle a dash or three of salt to prepare your belly for meat and rice. Mmmmmm...meatballs.



The name of this street is Kunduracilar (koon-doo-rah-jih-lar), which means "shoes", according to the guy sitting next to me. There are a lot of shoe shops on this street, he says. I've noticed a lot more jewelry shops here than anywhere else in the city. It's crazy; there must be about 30 in one small area.

Soon I hope to get some photographs of the spice market. I went there yesterday and it smelled so good. I'll talk more about it later as well. I was only there for a few minutes yesterday, so I couldn't savour the experience.

Success with pancakes and recent Iftar meals

Ah, pancakes. Such wonderful morning food. I was so excited when they turned out yesterday morning that I took a picture of them.



They are rather lame pancakes, but delicious nonetheless. I was just missing maple syrup...

With my belly full of pancakes, I arrived at the office to find flowers on my desk!



I thought nothing of it, thinking Emma left them there on accident. (She's pregnant, so I thought they were for her from one of her relatives.) John said, "Don't think so lightly of them. I think they are for you." Indeed, they were, but not from a male student as he initially thought. They were from one of my weekend students who wanted to invite me over for dinner. She probably came while I was eating lame pancakes, and would come again a bit later.

Neslihan, who is always all smiles, showed up about an hour into my lesson planning. I told her I would be happy to come for dinner, but did she know that I had class at 6:30? Yes, yes, the boys of the office told her and she would come at a quarter past four, would that be all right? Wonderful, I told her.

Just the other night I was thinking, "wouldn't it be great if I could go to a family's house for dinner?" I have been cooking for myself this last week, which has started to get old. The Iftar meal (meal after sunset) is a hectic time in restaurants. A couple nights ago I went out for the first time alone during Iftar and boy, was it exciting! The place was packed, not an empty seat to be found. I wanted to ask the waiter where I should sit when he directed me to the table next to the large fish tank. One woman was already sitting there, and before I could take off my jacket she aksed me if I was an English teacher. "How did. . .?" I had been in there a week before asking about leaving a tip, and she remembered me. "I work at the cash register," she replied. (This was all in Turkish of course.) We had nice simple dinner conversation in which I learned she was a teacher at one point, but now works at the restaurant that her father owns. Noticing the waiters rushing around (and sneaking cigarettes when they could), I asked her when they eat. "After all the people leave." I must have made a face, thinking that they must be starving (I would be after fasting all day), she said, "they won't die."

Ah, but I digress. Needless to say, I was pleasantly surprised when Neslihan invited me over for dinner.

Wanting to be culturally responsible, I asked Tansel if I should bring a gift. He suggested that I bring a kilo or so of baklava. But then he thought better of it, because they will probably have dessert already made. How about flowers? I asked Emma, and she said that since I'm a foreigner, I could get away with not bringing anything. I didn't feel right doing that, so I quick ran out and bought a rectangle of chocolate with hazelnuts in it. When I got back to the school, an excited Neslihan was waiting for me.

I was a bit concerned that she would speak Turkish to me, only because she flip-flops between Turkish and English in class quite a bit (and the school has a strict rule of only english--hence the name The Only English School). As it turns out, I had nothing to worry about. All evening she spoke English to me, translating to her family what I said.

During the ten minute walk to her place, I learned she is a dentist and that her mother and her share an office. In fact, they live just above it. She showed it to me on the way upstairs. It's so tiny compared to American denstist offices! The two chairs are next to each other with a rather large desk sqeezed in behind one of the chairs. Off to the side is a small room where the sterilization is done. It is customary to take your shoes off before entering someone's house, and the same goes for some other places as well. So as we took off the little blue plastic booties from our shoes, she asked me if I had any problems with my teeth. No no, I said.

Then we went up one more floor to her apartment. She lives with her parents and brother, who were waiting for us along with her best friend and her mother. As Neslihan and her best friend, Serap (?) asked me questions about my home, family, friends, and why I came to Turkey, their mothers were preparing dinner. Eventually they came into the living room and joined the conversation. I showed them some pictures that I brought with me, and they wondered even more why I came to Trabzon. "Your city is so beautiful!" they said. "It is better than Trabzon!" No, that would be like comparing apples and bananas, I told them.

After looking at my photos, Neslihan showed me photos of her past. First was her wedding album. She was such a beautiful bride! Before I could ask when her husband was coming over, she told me that he had died two years prior in a car accident. They had only been married one year. Oh, a broken heart is something I don't know if I could live through. She spoke of her husband so easily, and she struck me as a strong woman.

Dinner time! Since there were so many of us women, we all ate in the kitchen while the three men ate in the living room. We were very comfortable in the kitchen; plenty of room. In fact so much that they had sofa in there! What a great idea. The kitchen is the heart of the house, so why not make it a comfy place to hang out? I think I'll have one in my kitchen one day.

Since I had less than 45 minutes to eat dinner, they served me before they even sat down. Soup, salad, meatballs with veggies, a huge serving of chicken and rice, green beans, borek (filo dough--the same stuff used to make baklava--baked with meat and spinach and other stuff), two kinds of cake, and four glasses of drink: ayran (yogurt, water, and salt--very yummy, although I didn't like it the first time I was in Turkey), something orange, water, and tea. And all of it garlic-free!

I was so stuffed. They piled my plate higher and deeper with food that I would never be able to eat in one sitting. Damn my small stomach! It was so delicious and fun hanging out with the women that I didn't really want to go class. They were laughing almost the whole time, making one joke after another (I didn't always get them, but who cares? I'll get them sooner or later). When I spoke Turkish, even little things like, "thanks" or "guten appetit", they would dissolve into giggles. I don't really know why, because when a foreigner speaks English nobody praises them. In any case, they were happy they could communicate with me even a little in their language, as was I.

As the time came closer for me to leave, their hopping around the kitchen to get various things for their guests became more excited. Neslihan's mother gave me tea to drink with my four pieces of homemade cakes, but I had to go, so I couldn't drink it (not only that but it was too hot for my lips). I was putting my coat on when she gave me my tea glass, but it was still too hot to touch. I began switching it between my hands and they came running over with saucer. Oh, they were so lovely! Then they frantically wrapped up eight pieces of cake for me to take home. Everyone hugged me, said they loved me and out the door we went! Then Neslihan and her father drove me to the front door of the school.

Ten minutes before my lesson started, I was walking into my classroom. Phew! Girl, I was so stuffed.

This morning I woke up and nearly jumped out of bed! The last couple of weeks have been like trying to unstick dry glue when it came to getting out of bed. I'm not sure if it was the fun I had, or the hugs I got, but I sure felt great this morning!

Ballot sent, wallet empty

I sure hope John Kerry wins, because it cost me $35 to send my ballot yesterday. Oh, which reminds me. Check this website out: www.kerryhatersforkerry.com The Panic Room is rather interesting.

So anyway, enough about the election (because I'm sure all my friends back in the States are sick of hearing about it). Let's talk about cooking.

I've been trying to make pancakes for two weeks now. You would think that making pancakes would be a piece of cake (forgive the pun), but I've stumbled over several obstacles just trying to have this normal American breakfast. First I didn't have a pan. Well, duh, go out and buy one. It took me a while to find one without the yucky teflon coating junk. Second, I didn't have any ingredients. The night I decided to go out and buy them was the first night that people were buying food stuffs for the first dinner of Ramazan. The stores were so crowded, which made it not only difficult to move around, but made it near impossible to stand in the aile and look up the Turkish words for things like flour, sugar, and vanilla, and cinnamon.

The next morning I realized I didn't have a recipe (my books still haven't come), so I tried to make it up. Ha. I had some soupy goopy stuff that didn't really do much.

Thank goodness for the Internet, because I found a million and one recipies! It was at this time that I noticed I had forgotten to put baking powder in my original attempt, so I stopped at the store to get some.

Now I thought I was equipped. I had all the ingredients and all the utensils (except a metal spatula to flip cakes with, a whisk to mix everything with, and a sifter to sift my flour, but those aren't important). I was ready to have a good home-cooked breakfast.

As usual, the first pancake didn't turn out(my first ones never do). I put two more in the pan, and watched them steam and bubble up through the glass lid. Flipping them was a bit of challenge but I managed okay. Then, as I was about to take them out of the pan, the oil reached beyond its peak temperature and started smoking terribly. Even though it was chilly outside, I opened the kitchen window all the way to clear the air. My plan was foiled! How was I to make pancakes if the oil burns, causing carcinogens to enter my precious pancakes (which I ate anyway)? Phoo on this experiment!

I have attempted once more with the same results. What am I going to do? I'm going through withdrawl. I need pancakes or french toast like the earth needs water. I'm parched!

Fear not, dear friends. I will have my beloved pancakes. In the meantime I'm eating this lovely bread that is only available during Ramazan, and it's sooooooo good! It's called Ramazan pidesi. Yum, yum.

Well, I'm off to try more during-Ramazan-only food.

self-portrait oh la la

self-portrait oh la la
Originally uploaded by nicole jilbert.

I'm gonna join the gym!

I felt loved today!

Now that I have a few things to occupy myself with, the homesickness has subsided. It also helps that yesterday I got a postcard and a 6 page letter! Thanks to Maddy and Brittany :D

Today one of my co-workers showed me where the gym is. It's pretty small, but it has a pull-up bar, so three cheers for basement weight machine rooms! Three days a week the gym is open for women only. I'm allowed to go on the days that men go, but generally women don't go those days. Even so, I can hypothetically go to the gym six days a week! Yahoo! I've been feeling the need for some sort of exercise lately (besides walking). I really miss riding my bike. Hm, I don't recall seeing a stationary bike at the gym. . . oh well.

The best part about today was going to the gym. Bashak had made plans to meet one of her friends, so we picked her up first. Her name is Fatma and she was the first person to give me the familiar Turkish greeting (kissing each cheek). It was wonderful! Since arriving in Turkey, I have probably been hugged about 5 times, mostly during the first weekend. Back home, I probably got five hugs a day! After meeting each other, Fatma linked arms with me and all three of us walked to the gym. This was the best thing for me today.

Okay, it's a small event, but I'm counting everything these days.

Well, people. Tomorrow my weekend starts. Where shall I go? What shall I do? Who knows. I think I'll go the dolmush area and hop in a random one and see where it takes me. Adventure around every corner!

Something Funny and Something Sad

Hey y'all! Since it's election time again, let me remind you of this website that went around after the last elections: www.spankbush.com

Okay, that's the "something funny". Now on to a more serious note.

I'm homesick!

Please feel sorry for me by making my phone ring off the hook and sending me lots of presents. Got it? Good.

I don't really think about until I am done working for the day. Once work is over, I have a limited amount of things I can do, and I must admit I'm getting tired of those three things (Internet cafe, walking, and reading the newspaper). The stack of movies Ibrahim gave me? Haven't been able to watch them yet, cuz the computers at the cafe don't have the program to run them as I thought they did. Both times I've tried to watch them, the guy running the cafe isn't the computer whiz, and other times I've had other problems to bother them with (getting my ballot, which I finally got--yay!). I haven't started my saz lessons because the one student who knows which dershane to go to hasn't come to the school yet. No Turkish lessons yet because my books haven't arrived in the mail yet (no need to buy one if one is on the way, right?).

I was looking on the 'net the other night and saw the beautiful fall colors of Wisconsin that I'm totally missing right now. Boo! For my Turkish friends, this is what my homestate looks like in autumn.






Paul of Vermont took the above photo. He's got some copyright thingee on there and I'm supposed to credit him as the orgininal artist or something like that. Much else about him I don't know, except that he likes kayaking. Oh, so this photo is from Vermont probably, but this could be Wisconsin just as easily.



I'm not really sure where this is, but fall always brings lovely clouds, and sometimes tornadoes. Yippee! I sure miss those.

Anyway, thanks for letting me vent. I'm sure I'll feel better once something changes (as I'm sure something will because nothing ever stays the same for long).

Hey! Things just got better. The guy who knows computers is here. Now maybe I'll watch a movie. Woo hoo!

Turkish Tea

teacups
Originally uploaded by Mr and Mrs G.

This is the most popular drink in Turkey, chay (pronounced "chai"). It's the best thing to drink after eating dark chocolate pudding with ground pistachios top. Oh my heavens!

Throughout every city, you can see men with trays walking around. They deliver it to businesses in the area. I sometimes order it myself. When my manager wants some, he calls down to the ground floor with the apartment intercom (the tea house is right across from the front door of the building) and says, "Gohkan?. . .Gohkan?! Iki tane chay!" and hangs up. A few minutes later Gohkan comes up with two teas. Yum yum.

8 km out of Trabzon

Small towns are so lovely!

As today was my day off, I decided to leave Trabzon for a bit, so John and I hopped in one of the lovely dolmushes for the small town of Akchaabat. This was my first dolmush ride without somebody who knows where we're going, and it cost less than a dollar! Driving along the Black Sea was most spectacular; a storm had passed through the day before leaving the horizon crisp against the light blue sky. As we drove along, I noticed that we had driven all the way through Akchaabat! I also noticed that at this time all the other passengers were gone except us. Our driver asked us again where we were going. When I told him, he realized that we aren't from the area, made a U-turn and let us out just inside the town.



Since my guide books haven't arrived yet, this was sort of blind journey. The only thing I knew about this place was that the meatballs are the best in the area, so John and I started wandering around. We walked up the street away from the sea and found a nice shopping area. The streets were and not very busy with people and cars, a refreshing change from narrow, crowded Trabzon. Eventually we happened upon a small little place that sold fresh butter and honey. I decided that I would buy some butter, and got the attention of the shopkeeper. He was an older gentleman with a more-salt-than-pepper beard and thick glasses. He caught on right away that I'm not Turkish and asked me something that I couldn't understand. As I furrowed my brow trying to pick out words I knew, he asked, "Deutsch? Sprechen Sie Deutsch?" Giving an affirmative reply, he and his three friends grabbed their bellies and laughed, glad that we found a way to understand each other. I pointed to the yellow stuff in the window, and asked him what is was, just wanting to double-check that it was indeed butter. They said something in Turkish, but it wasn't the word I was expecting, so they tried another word, inek, and made milking motions. (I thought that meant 'donkey', but I just looked it up and it means 'cow', the same word they use to call someone a 'geek'.) I then told him I'd buy some. Waving me into the shop, he asked me how much I wanted. Not knowing my way around grams just yet, I said a little would be fine. He put his knife up to the chunk, "Bu kadar?" Sure, that's good. After he wrapped and weighed it (just over 100g) he said, "Para yok," (no money) and refused to accept what I wanted to give him. I've found there is no aruging with the Turks, so I asked him what there was to see in Akchaabat. He told us to go to Fatih Park, which we saw on the way in. With that bit of advice, we exchanged good-byes in three languages and went on our way.



Fatih Park was huge! Small palm trees shared the space with three fountains, a really fancy meatball restaurant, a smaller meatball joint, and a beautiful view of the sea. From one pier were several men with long fishing poles and one repairing a net. The breeze was a bit cool, but not chilly. Combined with the lapping of the water on the rocks, the tension melted from my shoulders and lungs. Aaaaahhh...

Since I had heard so much about these Akchaabat meatballs, I really wanted to try them. Why are they so well-known? Apparently they melt in your mouth because all the tough bits of meat are taken out and mixed with the soft lard. So John and I found a nice place to go, received a warm welcome, and took our seats.

Guess what? They have garlic in them! What a bummer, girl. John ordered them and I had something that looked like beef rib steak or something. I'm not really sure, cuz I've been a vegetarian all these years. John said that meatballs were fresh tasting, so I'll tell you they were good. He ate them all plus some of mine. I still find it hard to eat red meat, mostly because of the fat and bone bits (or whatever those crunchy things were). Overall it was pretty cool. In the back of the dining room was a fridge in which you could see the meat and other things being stored. Behind the fridge was the kitchen where you could hear them pounding the meat and chopping things. We saw them cut the meat from the carcass in the fridge for my dinner, bring it over to the oven in the front by the door, and cook it up. I felt so connected to my food, I tell ya. Yum yum!

Then we headed back to Fatih Park, where the dolmush drivers would collect to go back to Trabzon. I wasn't sure which dolmush to get into, but I didn't have to wonder for long. As soon as my foot hit the curb, I heard this guy shout out, "Trabzon!" Yay!

The sun was beginning to set and by the time we got to Trabzon proper it was dark. This meant that Ramazan (Ramadan) had officially started. Everything was busy. There was a traffic jam on the way out towards Akchaabat, lots more people were out than usual making the normally open spaces congested. John and I stopped at the grocery store and had a good time trying to get out without bumping into anyone and their shopping cart.

Everyone has warned us that tomorrow around 4 am we will be awoken by beating drums, which signal to everyone that it's time to eat. Don't know anything about Ramadan? Here's a short synopsis of what it's about from http://www.holidays.net/ramadan/story.htm:

The Fast of Ramadan

Ramadan is the ninth month of the Muslim
calendar. The Month of Ramadan is also when
it is believed the Holy Quran "was sent down
from heaven, a guidance unto men, a declaration of
direction, and a means of Salvation". It is
during this month that Muslims fast. It is called
the Fast of Ramadan and lasts the entire month.
Ramadan is a time when Muslims concentrate on their
faith and spend less time on the concerns of
their everyday lives. It is a time of worship
and contemplation.

During the Fast of Ramadan strict restraints
are placed on the daily lives of Muslims. They
are not allowed to eat or drink during the daylight
hours. Smoking and sexual relations are also
forbidden during fasting. At the end of the day the
fast is broken with prayer and a meal called the iftar.
In the evening following the iftar it is customary
for Muslims to go out visiting family and friends.
The fast is resumed the next morning.

According to the Holy Quran:

One may eat and drink at any time during the night
"until you can plainly distinguish a white thread
from a black thread by the daylight: then keep the
fast until night"

The good that is acquired through the fast can be
destroyed by five things -

-the telling of a lie
-slander
-denouncing someone behind his back
-a false oath
-greed or covetousness

These are considered offensive at all times, but are
most offensive during the Fast of Ramadan. During
Ramadan, it is common for Muslims to go to the
Masjid (Mosque) and spend several hours praying and
studying the Quran. In addition to the five daily
prayers, during Ramadan Muslims recite a special
prayer called the Taraweeh prayer (Night Prayer).
The length of this prayer is usually 2-3 times as long
as the daily prayers. Some Muslims spend the entire
night in prayer. On the evening of the 27th day of the
month, Muslims celebrate the Laylat-al-Qadr (the Night
of Power). It is believed that on this night Muhammad
first received the revelation of the Holy Quran. And
according to the Quran, this is when God determines
the course of the world for the following year.

When the fast ends (the first day of the month of Shawwal)
it is celebrated for three days in a holiday called Id-al-Fitr
(the Feast of Fast Breaking). Gifts are exchanged. Friends
and family gather to pray in congregation and for large meals.
In some cities fairs are held to celebrate the end of the
Fast of Ramadan.

Basically, from my understanding, it is a time of cleansing for the body and mind for all Muslims. It is a time to remember what it is like to be hungry, a reminder to help those less fortunate throughout the year; a time to cleanse not only the body, but also the mind, of desire. Certain people are not reqired to participate, namely children, pregnant women, and the weak.

That's my understanding of it right now. I'm sure I'll gain more insights as the month progresses.

After all that excitement, I'm exhausted. Bedtime now.

Hey, I'm serious. VOTE.

I'm so infuriated. I really want to you to vote. Tell all your friends (abroad and Do not even think about skipping out on this job. It's our civic duty not only to your fellow American citizens, but to the rest of the world.

This is contributing to my current mood.

http://www.informationclearinghouse.info/pilger_breaking_the_silence_35mb.htm

It's less than 55 minutes.

Geez. As I'm watching this, I think to myself that maybe voting really doesn't matter. That said, that doesn't mean I don't want you to vote. It actually makes me a bit depressed. Isn't there anything good that the United States does? I can't believe my tax dollars are at work killing millions of other people. I could stop paying taxes, as Dr. Evermore has (http://www.folkart.org/mag/evermor/evermor.html). But what else? At the moment I feel like disassociating myself from the place.

The Presidential Debate

Hm, I tried to listen to the debates but now realize that would require me to sit at this computer for another three hours, so instead I'm reading the highlights on the BBC website. Check it out if you wish.

http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/world/americas/3707018.stm#bl

Let's see if I can get this absentee ballot thing to work. I got an email from some group helping overseas voters such as myself, but I've run into the same dead-ends I ran into before. Why is this so difficult?

Grrrrrr....

Photos from Ankara

Here is Atatürk's mausoleum. You can get an idea of how big it is by looking at the specs of people climbing up the stairs.



Here's me!





Ankara from the citadel. I don't know the Turkish name for it, but it's not too far from this place called the Anatolian Civilizations Museum which was so awesome cool. After feeling like an ant in the mausoleum, this place made me appreciate the time I have on this earth. There are things in there that are thousands of years old, made by people who lived thousands of years ago. I mean, can you imagine how long it must have taken for somebody to learn how to make a stone statue, for instance? They were babies first, with a mother to care for them. They survived childhood, the crazy teenage years with raging hormones, and into adulthood long enough to learn the art of carving stone well enough that their work to be put on display where ever it was in their life. Then that piece of art survived how ever many hundred or thousands of years to be discovered by somebody else who survived infancy and childhood long enough to become an adult and train in archeology. I loved that museum. In 1997 it won a European Museum Award. I wish I could have taken some pictures of the stuff in there for you to see. Ah well! Guess you'll just have to come Turkey to see it for yourself.

Oh yeah, look near the bottom of the photograph and you can see tiny white things. That's a dolmush starting point. I'm not sure if I told you what dolmush are. They are small vehicles, like small busses or big vans, that follow a certain route through the city and you can get on or off any any time. They leave from the starting point when they are full, but let's say you want to get in one that is driving past. Barely wave your finger at the driver and the side door would slide open for you (although on older ones you have to open the door yourself, you lazy bum) and you hop in. Let's also say that the only seat available is in they very back. How do you pay if you can't reach the driver? No problem, all you have to do is pass your money up to the front and the correct change will be passed back to you. Oh, and don't worry about seat belts because they really aren't necessary. Nor are they available. One time I sat in the front and tried to buckle in, but the buckle was only half there! The dolmush driver noticed my dilemma, and told me not to worry. It wasn't so bad, but I was still nervous because I've noticed that many Turkish drivers don't always stop at red lights. Anyway, if you sit in the back, you can forget about their driving habits and enjoy the sights without having to drive yourself. When you want to get out, just say one of two things: "a suitable place" or "can I get out here?" This is one of my favorite things about Turkey. I don't get to ride the dolmush very often these days, because I live a mere seven minute walk away from work. Ah well. If you come to visit, we'll ride one for sure to see Aya Sofia.

Ah, speaking of dolmush drivers, my manager is friends with one here in Trabzon and arranged for him to get me to and from the airport. He was really great to talk to because he kept his Turkish simple enough for me to understand, and was able to understand me when I spoke to him in broken Turkish. Turns out he lives down the street from me as well.




Here is another view of Ankara.

Oh my gosh! There is so much of Turkey that I want to see! I'm hoping that I can plan things right so I'll have enough time to do everything I want. Of course, I have to wait for a few paychecks before I go anywhere else.

Hey, this weekend I taught the first six hours of Course 3. It went all right, I think. Yesterday my students hardly said anything, mostly because they were nervous. Today was much better, because I planned activities better and they were less nervous. My manager said that when teaching in Turkey, one must jump up and down a lot. He is thinking about getting a trampoline for just that.

Well, I'm off now. On the plane back from Ankara I managed to snag a copy of one of those airline magazines, which is written in both Turkish and English. Let's see if I can learn more Turkish now.

Ankara: water everywhere and nowhere

Ankara does not have any natural bodies of water in the area, so to make up for it there are fountains around almost every corner. Some look like works of modern art while others imitate natural waterfalls. I liked seeing them because without them, I think the city would be so negative ion deficient that I would probably have gone crazy (along with the rest of the city).

Before telling you about the rest of Ankara though, I must tell you what I saw from the plane. Turkey has such a beautiful landscape, and as I flew over small mountains with round velvet tops that had been worn away by water flowing down for millennia, I noticed an enormous ancient river bed winding through them. At the bottom of this ancient river bed was a much smaller river winding through. It looked like a creek, but on the ground it probably isn't big enough to wade through. I can only imagine what the land must have looked like with a giant river going through. More jagged mountains? More trees? Ibrahim later told me that somebody who studied the land here in Turkey wrote that at one time a monkey could travel by swinging in the trees from some place much further south than modern day Turkey all the way to Istanbul without touching the ground once. At some point in history, too many trees were cut down in Turkey and the surrounding areas causing the area to dry up. It seems humans have done this several times in our history, not just here. Wisconsin was pretty much clear-cut at some point as well.

Ibrahim was waiting as I got off the bus, and that was a relief. The bus depot was so big that I'm sure I would have gotten lost if I were by myself. It was marvelous. After having the Turkish equivalent of donuts for breakfast (but far healthier and yummier than American donuts), we headed for the American Embassy. Now, if I had been thinking before I planned my trip, I would have looked to see if the Embassy would be open. However, I wasn’t thinking so I didn’t look and found to my dismay that not only was the Embassy closed for the day, but it was to be closed all next week! At first I thought this was some evil plan by the American government to discourage me from voting; the brain is so irrational when frustrated. As it turns out, they are renovating inside and aren’t even checking their email. This was conveniently planned to coincide with Columbus Day, I imagine.

So we scooted outta there and headed for Atatürk’s mausoleum (Anitkabir), which is upon one of the many hills of Ankara and so very peaceful. Elegantly dressed soldiers line the premises standing guard to Turkey’s most revered leader, Mustafa Kemal Atatürk. He is so revered that all classrooms in the country must have his photo hanging on the wall (including private schools such as Only English). ‘Why?’ I hear you ask. Well, my dear friends, Atatürk reformed the education system so that everyone could go to school, from grade school to graduate school, at no cost. The new system was also secularized and co-ed. In fifteen years he raised the national literacy level from just below 9% to 33%. He was so dedicated to everyone having access to a good education that he himself taught people where ever he could gather them, even in city parks!

The mausoleum was huge. I felt the size of an ant. The ceiling must have been four stories high (at least, yo) and the decorations must have been gold inlay. Gorgeous. Walking around the courtyard also made me feel like an ant, with the second president of the Turkey laying at the opposite end from Atatürk. Off to the side was a museum dedicated to Atatürk and the founding of the Republic of Turkey. It began with an exhibit of all the gifts bestowed upon Atatürk from leaders of other countries. My words are not eloquent enough, so if you will, a quote from http://www.ataturk.com/:

A military hero who had won victory after victory against
many foreign invaders, Atatürk knew the value of peace
and, during his Presidency, did his utmost to secure
and strengthen it throughout the world. Few of the
giants of the modern times have spoken with Atatürk's
eloquence on the vital need to create a world order
based on peace, on the dignity of all human beings,
and on the constructive interdependence of all nations.
He stated, immediately after the Turkish War of
Independence, that "peace is the most effective way for
nations to attain prosperity and happiness." Later as
he concluded treaties of friendship and created regional
entendre, he affirmed: " Turks are the friends of all
civilized nations." The new Turkey established cordial
relations with all countries, including those powers
which had tried a few years earlier to wipe the Turks
off the map. She did not pursue a policy of expansionism,
and never engaged in any act contrary to peaceful
co-existence. Atatürk signed pacts with Greece, Rumania
and Yugoslavia in the Balkans, and with Iran, Iraq and
Afghanistan in the East. He maintained friendly relations
with the Soviet Union, the United States, England, Germany,
Italy, France, and all other states. In the early 1930s,
he and the Greek Premier Venizelos initiated and signed a
treaty of peace and cooperation.

Atatürk did much more for the country than I could tell you in one little blog entry, so I highly recommend that you visit the aforementioned website and read about this great man. I must add, though, that this website is just an introduction to what Ataturk accomplished.

After that, we went to the Citadel where one could see almost all the hills of Ankara at once. I have a really good photograph of that, but wait until tomorrow, okay? I left my camera at home. In the evening, after a few games of tavla (backgammon) we up and went to the movies to see “The Terminal”, which I later learned is based on a true story, apparently on an Iranian man who was stuck in a French airport and has now lived in the airport for 10 years and refuses to leave (even his family can’t convince him to leave). That’s what my flatmate told me. Here is another version of the story, which I found but cannot currently read because the connection isn’t working properly. Check it out anyway, yah? http://www.snopes.com/travel/airline/airport.htm

The next day, after lounging around his place for a while, we went to Kizilay in the center of Ankara, where I was able to peruse used English teaching books to my heart’s content. That didn’t take very long, so as we decided to walk around for a bit. As I was buying a day-old copy of USA Today, we heard that the power might go out in which case the underground train to the bus depot wouldn’t work. Forget walking around! Let’s get to the depot while we still can. And so it was.

Once at the depot, I ate the best chocolate thing ever. It was dark chocolate (my favorite) pudding with chocolate grated on top with pistachios. Oooh, yummy….and the tea afterwards so the most delicious thing. Mmm, chocolate makes everything better (except my spelling because I keep typing ‘chocolage’).

Hanging out with Ibrahim was just what I needed at just the right time. I’ve been living in Trabzon for almost a month now, a city of 250,000 and nary a friend to hang out with. It was great to hang out with somebody and speak to them without having to think about forming the correct grammar before opening my mouth. That said, I am happy to report that my Turkish is getting better, albiet slowly. I'm probably learning a new word every day, but that still isn't enough to have a conversation of any depth, so it was great to be able to talk about some deeper issues with Ibrahim.

Let me tell you a little about my weekend host. Ibrahim is a mathematician. Now, I’ve always thought of mathematicians as a kind of magician, playing with numbers in certain ways to figure out some secrets of the universe. I see now that they are also like composers, working with formulas and matrixes, trying to get everything tuned just right, working day and night for days on end, pouring all energy into figuring and calculating. At other times, projects sit because the ability to even look at it is not possible, even for a nanosecond. I admire the dedication required to work on such projects.

And now a few words about the Turkish as hosts. Oh my goodness! They always make sure you have everything you need, and if they forget, they apologize as soon as they remember. Also, if you like something and say so, they make sure and give it to you. There is no need to refuse taking it, because that is not an option. You know, when Americans offer something, the polite thing to say is, “Are you sure (you want to give this to me)?” I have never heard anything like that spoken here in Turkey, and have a feeling that I would offend if I said that. I know the Turks are generous, but I can never equip myself with enough gifts to reciprocate the appreciation that I feel. Not only are the extremely hospitable (giving up their own bed for me to sleep in), but they are very generous with material items. I can think of two examples of this. The first was when Bahadir picked me up from the airport and we were on our way to his home. We stopped at a baklava shop to pick up a pastry similar to baklava, kadayif. He bought a whole box full, but also a piece for each of us to eat right there. As I placed it in my mouth and let it melt on my tongue, I nearly cried it was so delicious. Then Bahadir said, “I could eat this all day!” It was the most amazing thing I had eaten since my friend, Jung-Min, made a farwell dinner for me, so I eagerly agreed, “Me, too!” He immediately bought me another piece. And so it was just yesterday. Ibrahim made breakfast, and while I munched on yummy eggs and drank tea, he placed a rather large jar of dark substance in front of me.
“I want you to try this.” I had no idea what it was, but being open to new things in a new country, how could I refuse? Turns out it was my favorite fruit spread in the world, plum jam. I told him this, and proceeded to eat more of it. I realized he wasn’t eating any, so I stopped eating it, thinking that I didn’t want to eat all his jam. (It came from his mother’s village.) I didn’t think about it all until I was packing my things to leave when he brought it from the kitchen in a plastic bag. He was giving me the entire jar!

I just remembered another one. The last time I was in Turkey, I was with my best friend and two other women. Our friend, Ahemt, invited us over for dinner. At dinner we met his mother, and she served us the best manti we ever ate. After dinner she served us dessert and tea in the most beautiful crystal. One of us commented on the crystal, and she insisted that we each keep our tea glass and saucer.

I’m still unsure on how to repay my friends. Perhaps now that I live in my own place (or rather, a place where I am able to have guests) I can show the same hospitality they have shown me, assuming they will visit me. Besides the jam, Ibrahim also gave me Angela’s Ashes to read in Turkish and a stack of American movies which, I am embarrassed to say, I have either never heard of or never seen.

Ah, I apologize for any misspellings. The connection is currently very slow and I don't have the patience to wait. Okay, maybe I'll post the photos tomorrow.

I have students!

It's official now. I am a teacher!

I have successfully taught two two-hour classes. Last night I was a bit nervous, so I think I rushed through some of the stuff, but it seemed to me that most of the students knew it. Tonight my head was much clearer, so I was able to see things more objectively. I have fourteen students, most of whom are enrolled in the technical university here. One woman is much older, and I learned tonight that she also speaks German. I will have to be sure not to let her speak German with me to get ideas across. Three languages going on in her head would only make matter more confusing! Not to mention my head, because I think I have forgotten a lot of German.

Teaching is so much fun. I like explaining things to people and when they understand, it's so electrifying! Maybe you other teachers can relate. When they get something, you can see it spreading across all their faces like the fire lights on gas stoves. Quick like.

Guess what? I did something really brilliant.

I left my address book in the States! So all you people who love me, please email me your address so that I can send you stuff. If you already got something from me, it's because I started a new address book and put you in it. I didn't transfer a lot address to my new book because I think I packed it in the wrong box. One that went to storage. So if you haven't received any mail from me and would like to get something, email your address to me. Okay?

On Thursday I'm going to Ankara and I'll visit my friend Ibrahim. Haven't seen that guy in forever and day. Should be fun!

Until then, folks.

Just trying to make conversation

Emma warned me that the people are very interested in foreigners.

After work I decided to try and talk to the giggly girl in pink at the pastry shop. The girl instantly recognized me and we started talking. I told her I'm a teacher and I have since decided that I won't tell anyone else ever again. She asked if I would teach her English, and I tried to explain that I'm under contract and need to talk to my boss about working outside the school. Then she told me she didn't really want to pay me. This was a bit of surprise, and I wasn't sure exactly how to react without offending. I mean, would she be offended if I just came right out and said no? I wasn't sure, so I told her to come back home with me in a year. After a bit of joking around, I picked a yummy thing to eat and sat down.

Mmmm, creamy, sugary goodness. I love Turkish pastries.

When I was done, we talked a bit more. At one point she leaned in real close and snatched the single long hair out of the mole above my lip. Perhaps some of you remember it? Well, it's no longer there. I gave out a rather loud yelp and the whole staff burst into laughter while the customers were looking a bit confused. At that point I wanted to leave, but she and another worker insisted that I sit down. Ten minutes later, I walked out of there, but not before they both gave me their email addresses and phone numbers.

The whole experience was a bit overwhelming for me. She spoke Turkish really fast, a lot of words I couldn't understand. I didn't want to agree to something that was not true, so much of the conversation was spent trying to look up words in the dictionary. Even then, I don't know words for things like if, should, or before, so expressing myself in the way I wanted to was limited.

Fortunately, one of the other teachers at school, Bashak, has agreed to give me Turkish lessons. Emma tells me that Başak even corrects Turkish speakers on their Turkish!

In other news, I start teaching tomorrow evening, a level 1 course. Saturday I will start a level 3 course. I'm not too nervous yet, but I sure will be right before class. It'll be fun, though.

Holy Crap, I'm an adult!

Do you ever get that feeling right after doing something thoroughly enjoying that you shouldn't really be doing it, and at any moment your parents will come into the room and scold you for goofing off? And then do you realize that you are twenty-eight years old, haven't lived at home for a good many years, and that they are thousands of miles away?

Nah, me neither.

Man knows women better than we know ourselves

Desmond Morris has just written a new book called The Naked Woman in which he claims to have found not one, not two, but three more G-spots in women. Morris has called them the A-spot, C-spot, and U-spot. What is he doing that I'm not? This bit of news was published today in a Turkish daily newspaper called Hurriyet. Unfortunately, I cannot provide a link because no English speaking news source has published this information yet, even though Mr. Morris is from Great Britian.

Warning: shopoholic tendencies developing

It is so easy to shop in Turkey. I had been dreading buying a bra for a while now, but tonight Emma took me out and it was done in a painless and quick 6.8 minutes. Can you believe it? It was even mildy enjoyable.

The service in this country puts customer service in the States to shame. The restaurant at which I frequently eat dinner clears the plates almost immeditaley after I put the last morsel of food into my mouth. My empty teacup is cleared before it graces the saucer. When I was buying trousers one day, I didn't even have to leave the dressing room for a different size. In fact, the woman helping me was dissappointed when I came out before she could give me another pair.

Let me elaborate on the bra-shopping event.

Turkish bra sizes are not like American bra sizes, so I had no idea what mine was. I can't even remember my American bra size, come to think of it. We walked into this shop that sells nothing but underwear, and told the saleswoman my situation.

"Can I look?" she asked (in Turkish of course) and before I could comprehend what she asked me, touched two of her fingers underneath my breast for a split second and grabbed two bras. I was ushered into the dressing room, tried on three, and paid for it in less time than it takes to make an omlette. Stunning!

I will never shop in the States again.

Get Your Vote On!

My public announcement to everyone during this presidential election is as follows:

DON'T GIVE UP YOUR VOTE.

I read in the International Herald Tribune (published by the New York Times) yesterday that many Americans are trying to cast absentee ballots, but with little success. Many voters cannot get the proper form off the Internet or get busy signals when trying to fax their forms in to the US. In fact, many have given up! I dare say, this is not the election to give up on, but if the politcians in your state are making it difficult to vote, what else can a person overseas do? The local embassy should have the proper forms, but what of it when you can't send it in? Abentee ballots caused quite a stir in Florida during the 2000 elections because some arrived late and not all of them were counted. So my suggestion to you, whether you are abroad or not, is to take all possible measures to be sure your vote is counted.

There. My community service duty is done for now.