Nicole's Turkish Travels

The End

2005-08-29T17:48:00.000-07:00

The time has come to close this blog. I hope you enjoyed what you have read here. Please visit me at my new blog. It's a joint blog with my husband.

Yay, we're married!

Wedding less than two weeks away

2005-08-09T16:01:00.000-07:00

Oi, veh. With less than 2 weeks until my single life is over, I'm feeling a little overwhelmed with the things I have to do.

Acutally, that's a lie. Last weekend I rode 180 miles for the AIDS ACT III ride and now I'm feeling very calm about everything. No problem, folks. Everything will work itself out.

The AIDS ride was pretty fun. My boss told me that she saw me on the television news twice! I just found one of the videos online, but not the ones that I'm in. So when I find them, I'll post the links here.

Summer evenings can be so humid. How do you cool down without air conditioning? Go for a bike ride, of course!

It's summer!

2005-06-15T09:35:00.000-07:00

Well, almost. The weather feels summer-like. I feel I should change the title of my blog, seeing as I'm not in Turkey anymore, and haven't been for quite some time.

Here is a picture of some dried poppy plants my friend gave me back in Trabzon. She said they grow like crazy in the Izmir region, but people who grow them can only have so many due to government restrictions. Gotta keep away from the opium dealers or something.

I love the sound they make. If you shake them, they make the softest sound, similar to those plastic eggs with beads in them. You can eat them for breakfast if you like. Break open the shell and inside are the little black seeds that make their appearance on bagels here in the States. I can't remember exactly what she said to do with them next, but you cook them somehow and put them on toast with butter. Mmmmm, it sounded delicious.

The Germans use poppy seeds for sweets. My mother makes the best poppy seed cake in the whole wide world.

Perhpas one of my Turkish friends can help me remember what to do with poppy seeds in the morning.

It's been a while

2005-05-12T15:03:00.000-07:00

Hi folks!

I've been meaning to post my last entry for a long time, but have been postponing it. I started an article about the call to prayer, and even got close to finishing it, buy with the move back to the States, applying for school in a rush, and starting back at work, I misplaced it and possibly even lost it.

"No big deal," I hear you saying. "Just start over." I've meant to do that at least five times, but life has just gotten too busy, which is unfortunate, because the call to prayer is really awesome and you call should hear it. By that, I mean you should really consider going to Turkey and hanging around Istanbul, Antalya, and Erzurum, and hear the call wafting overhead, mingling with other calls in the city. It grounded me at a time when I didn't feel very grounded. I wish mosques here in the States would sound their calls. I'm not sure if they aren't allowed, or if they choose not to. At least in Detroit, Michigan one can hear the call. There isn't a law prohibiting the call to prayer, nor is there a noise ordinance against it. In neighboring Hamtramck there is a bit of a debate whether the local mosque can sound its call. There is no law against it there either, but mosque officials wanted to be neighborly and get permission anyway. As it stands right now, the issue is going up for a vote in July or August to be determined by the city residents. Hopefully, it will pass.

Here's the beginning of the article I started a few moons ago.

I am generally a heavy sleeper. Sometimes I wake up enough just before sunrise to hear the day's first call to prayer. I try to stay awake to listen to the whole thing because it is quite beautiful, but it usually lulls me back into my slumber.

At prayer time, there is a call from the minaret of the mosques, the ezan. In olden days, a man would climb to the top and sing in a beautiful and loud voice for the people in the surrounding area. Nowadays it is sung through loud speakers postioned at the top of the minarettes. In Trabzon, there is one voice for all the mosques. His voice bounces off the surrounding mountains so that during the pauses one can here him three times over. In Istanbul one can here several men singing at different intervals, floating together in a sea of beautiful singing above the city. I once had the pleasure of being on top of one of the seven hills Istanbul rests on when the call to prayer went off. I felt like I was being wrapped in a melodious blanket of peace.

The first call to prayer is sounded around 5:30 am, although it varies because the times are in sync with the moon. This one is the longest and low in tone. As the day progresses, they speed up little by little so that the last call is maybe half as long as the first.

The words of the call are sung in Arabic and are translated like this:

Allahu Akbar, Allahu Akbar .
Allahu Akbar, Allahu Akbar ,
Allah is the Greatest, Allah is the Greatest,
Allah is the Greatest, Allah is the Greatest.

Ash-hadu alla ilaha illa-llah
Ash-hadu alla ilaha illa-llah
I bear witness that there is none worthy of worship but Allah.
I bear witness that there is none worthy of worship but Allah.

Ash-hadu anna Muhammadar-Rasulullah.
Ash-hadu anna Muhammadar-Rasulullah.
I bear witness that Muhammad is the Messenger of Allah
I bear witness that Muhammad is the Messenger of Allah

Hayya ‘ala-s-Salah, hayya ‘ala-s-Salah.
Hasten to the Prayer, hasten to the Prayer.

Hayya ‘ala-l-falah, hayya ‘ala-l-falah.
Hasten to real success, hasten to real success

Allahu Akbar, Allahu Akbar.
Allah is the Greatest, Allah is the Greatest.

La ilaha illa-llah.
There is none worthy of worship but Allah.

As-Salatu khairun min an-naum
As-Salatu khairun min an-naum. .
Prayer is better than sleep.
Prayer is better than sleep.

Not to fall behind in these technological times, a cell phone company in the United Arab Emirates has made the call to prayer cell phone friendly.

Want to hear it? Check these out. (The Arabic word is Azan. The Turkish word is ezan.)

Turkish Restaurant Menu

2005-03-03T10:16:00.000-08:00

ãã«ã³ã¿-Istanbul, Turkey
Originally uploaded by nao.

You can walk into just about any restaurant and tell the cook what you want. Then you sit down and wait for them to serve you bread, ayran (a mixture of yogurt, salt, and water), and maybe they'll offer you some soup. In the photo here you can see various types of kebaps.

More cart sellers!

2005-03-03T10:08:00.000-08:00

manav
Originally uploaded by Zyama.

This photo was taken in Kadidoy, my old neighborhood in Istanbul. I thought I would post it here cuz it's a cool image and goes along so nicely with my other cart photos.

Upcoming--more on Turkish food!

The New American Landscape

2005-03-03T09:02:00.000-08:00

They say that the culture shock is hardest when coming back to your own country. Reentry shock, they call it.

For some reason, I found myself wandering around the old mall I used to work at back in college. It was early in the day, so there weren't the throngs of crowds around. In fact, there weren't very many people at all, which gave the whole a place an eerie atmosphere. Some of the old stores I used to shop at had changed dramatically while the place I worked had disappeared entirely. Bigger stores are replacing smaller ones at an alarming rate. Did you ever think that such a thing was possible? Malls are already full of bigger stores than you would find downtown, but these places are just huge. For example, I went to Dick's Sporting Goods, and was amazed at the size of it. There were three other customers in the store, but I didn't know it for a whole 20 minutes. I walked along the vast aisles of fully stocked, neatly organized rows of shirts, bikes, shorts, steel coffee mugs, and golf bags, wondering if it was possible for these racks to be empty. Then I noticed there was a second level.

Upstairs was more of the same: tents, fishing vests, rods, nalgene bottles, camping chairs, pavilions, and sleeping mats. As I floated down the escalator, I thought that since this store obviously has everything, maybe I could find a pair of winter biking gloves which is why I came to the mall in the first place.

I perused their bike section, but apparently the rest of America doesn't ride their bike in winter or for very long in the summer. These bikes looked like they were waiting to be bought so they could sit in the garage to wait there again for a sunny day. There were no panniers, no bike fenders, no rain gear, and certainly no winter gear. Just helmets, bikes, and locks. And almost all the bikes had front shocks on them. Call me a biker snob, but I really don't see the point of front shocks on bikes. They weigh the bike down so much that if you are going long distances, they slow you down. Save the weight and carry more food! At least you can eat that weight off. Sure they may save the wrists if you don't ride around very much, but if that's the case, are they saving your wrists all that much? I would venture to say that anyone who has front shocks on their bikes probably spends more time on the computer than they do on their bike. Carpal tunnel is more likely at the keyboard then, than on the bike. But I digress.

I have to give the designers of this store a little credit. People like to be able to identify with things, so on some of the columns holding up the store were blown up images of an area map with "Madison" in bold print. Way to give some hometown feel! I'm sure the store in St. Louis has the same thing but with "St. Louis" in bold.

The thing that upset me the most is that I walked around in that place for a good 20 minutes before I saw anyone. What has happened to human interaction? In Turkey, there is so much human interaction that it is sometimes annoying, but even so, I miss it. I miss being able to bargain with the shop keeper or merchant. I miss the smells of the market place, the feel of the outdoor air in my nostrils. None of this artificial air freshener that makes me nauseous. I also miss the sounds of human activity, the laughter, various shop keepers singing their selling song, and the clomp of human feet on the cobblestone ground.

One more gripe about mall shopping America and I'll stop.

My quest to find mittens to replace the glove I lost went unfulfilled. Can you believe that it's still 20 degrees (Fahrenheit) outside and the entire mall is selling spring clothing? The only hand coverings I found where on the 77 cent rack in JCPenny's, and they would have been utterly useless in fighting the wind chill I feel on my hands as I ride to work. Pure polyester pink pansies of gloves.

My next post will be about something happy. Promise.

Cart Merchants

2005-02-22T10:54:00.000-08:00

Like I wrote a month or so ago, lots of things are sold on carts. This man is selling anything related to cleaning. Mops, brooms, buckets, even front door mats.

This man is selling gozleme. You can see the thin dough on the left and the cooking surface shaped like a mushroom on the right.

Even though you can't really see the cart, this man's cart has two seperate glass sections for two types of sunflower seeds. They were yummy, although I had a difficult time trying to eat them. Bahadir said they are addictive.

Not more than 500 meters from the green cart man was this guy, also selling sunflower seeds. The Turks love them some seeds, I guess.

This man walked by my apartment at least twice a week, singing his selling song. He was buying and selling old metal.

This guy was always selling some sort of fruit near my office. Sometimes kiwi, sometiems bananas, sometimes strawberries.

The end.

While I'm writing, I get distracted

2005-02-22T10:26:00.000-08:00

I'm working on some other articles for y'all, but I keep getting distracted by photographs.

Here is a fruit and vegetable merchant in my old neighborhood of Kadikoy, where I lived when I was a student during my semester abroad.

Kitty corner from him was a fish stand.

And finally, my favorite way to travel is by dolmush. You can get on and get off anytime you want. If you get in at the dolmush station, such as in this photo, you simply wait until the dolmush is full and then it leaves. To pay, you pass your money up. If there is change, it gets passed back to you no matter where you are sitting. The driver follows a set route and you just tell him when you want to get off by saying either, "can i get out here, please?" or "a suitable place" (both in Turkish of course).

Not all dolmush are the same. Some drivers decorate theirs to the nines, with shag carpet on the dash and blue lights everywhere. Others have a few decorations on the sun visors and nothing more.

I now see that this photo makes my eyes hurt. It's difficult to see that on the tiny screen my camera provides. So I advise you to look at this photo only briefly. I cannot be held responsible for headaches caused by prolonged viewing. You have been warned.

Down to the Pores at the Turkish Bath

2005-02-20T12:11:00.000-08:00

My first hamam experience rocked my world.

Personal cleanliness is very important in Islam. There is a spiritual cleanliness in which one keeps the heart and mind free from impure thoughts and deeds. Physical cleanliness standards include everything from the body, the clothes, the home, and the whole community. Before prayer, a Muslim cleans their face and head, hands, arms to the elbows, and feet to the ankles. They perform this ritual at fountains just outside most mosques, even if the temperature is below freezing. Certain times during the year, every household is cleaned from top to bottom. All the carpets and rugs are taken outside to be scrubbed, rinsed, and dried thoroughly. The community is cared for on a daily basis. Every morning, shopkeepers can be seen washing their windows, inside and out. They also mop the floors and wash the sidewalk and curbs in front. On one particular stretch of stores on my way to work every day, I had to be careful not to slip and fall because the ground would be so wet.

Hamam literally means "bath". Before running water was invented, everybody went to the hamam to get clean. It was a highly social event in one's day or week, but those days are numbered. Many hamams are struggling to stay open since most people bathe at home these days.

For my last day in Trabzon, I decided to pamper myself. I treated myself to the best spinach omelet in town and then headed for the hamam. I must have been the first person of the day because the only person in there was a woman in her early forties watching TV and smoking a cigarette. This was the cold room.

I took off my shoes and left them by the door. She showed me over a chaise-lounge next to a cabinet, of which she gave me the key. Then she instructed me to take off all my clothes. Everything. I'm not normally shy about my body, so I did as told. As I stood there stark naked, she asked if I wanted tea.

After the tea, she brought me through a luke-warm room and into a hot, steamy room. The room was rather large and naturally bright with smaller rooms off to eight sides. In the middle was an enormous white marble slab that came up to about knee level. Natural light came from above through holes made in a dome. Everything was white marble and the air was hot with steam.

She brought me into one of the smaller rooms. There were two smaller marble slabs here, one in each corner that came up to my ankles. I went to sit down on one, and nearly burned myself because it was so so hot! She brought me to a different room, laid out a thin towel on the slab and motioned for me to sit. In between each slab was a spout and a small marble sink with no drain. She then gave me a small plastic bowl and indicated that I should take some hot water from the sink and pour it over myself for five minutes. Then she left, promising to return in five minutes.

The combination of the warm marble slab, the hot steamy air, and clear warm water to pour over myself put me in such a relaxed state. The soft echoes of the place were the only music.

After about fifteen minutes of this, I began to wonder if she had forgotten about me so I laid down on the warm slab and almost feel asleep. The woman eventually came in and motioned for me to move into the larger room and lay face-down on the huge marble slab. She put a thin, glove-like washcloth on her hand and proceeded to give me the most thorough scrub since I was a baby. The washcloth wasn't the roughest thing in the world, but after going over one spot about 25 times, it began to hurt. She was giving me a full-body exfoliation. The more she scrubbed, the more dirt came off. Do you remember making clay snakes when you were a child? You took some clay from the big brown block, rolled it into a ball and then rolled it out long and narrow. Well, all over my body tiny clay snake-like things were forming from all the dirt that had been collecting in my pores for the last 27 years. The more she scrubbed, the more snakes appeared from my feet, legs, stomach, back, armpits, neck, and arms. When she was satisfied al the dirt had been rubbed out, she poured hot water over me several times and lathered me up in soap and washed my hair. Twice. And she gave me a massage. Aaaaaaahhhh.....

Walking out of the place, I felt the cleanest I had ever felt in my life. My skin was smooth as a baby, and I was so relaxed. All for about 12 dollars.

While I felt super with my body, my hair was something else entirely. I had a few more hours to kill before leaving for the airport, so I headed directly to the hairdressers. They washed my hair again and styled it to my specifications.

I never felt so good getting on the plane before!

Bosphorous Straight, Istanbul

2005-02-20T08:19:00.000-08:00

Bosphorous Straight, Istanbul
Originally uploaded by nicole jilbert.

Even though it snowed in Istanbul almost all week, the sun did come out every now and then. Here it is over the Bosphorous.

Good ol' Madison

2005-02-13T10:39:00.000-08:00

Here is how I spent most of my Saturday. Airports are so fun.

Never have I been so happy to come back to Madison. Even though I was extremely sleep deprived almost to the point of hallucination, I stayed awake for the dark drive through the city streets. The sight of the city lights from John Nolen Drive with the frozen lake right next to them filled my head with fantasies of riding my bike without worrying about being run down by large vehicles and breathing in early spring lake air.

However, spring is a long way off. I have now added long underwear to my everyday wardrobe and don't dare think of going outside with all my winter gear. The wind bites through my warmest pants' the same ones that made me sweat in Trabzon. Here is what the lake looks like during the day.

Those little black boxes are huts that the ice fisherman hang out in to keep warm. They're out there pretty much all winter.

Being back in the States is a bit weird at times. Everything is so expensive! I looked at some scarves today, identical to some I bougth in Turkey, and was shocked to see that they are five times more expensive here. Five times!

Dinner time, folks. I have a million more photos to upload, so stay tuned!

Covered in Snow

2005-02-09T03:13:00.000-08:00

Living in Trabzon let me forget what winter is really like. With temperatures generally around 50 degrees Fahrenheit, snow didn't come round very often.

The clouds in Istanbul have been almost continually letting down snow since I got here. This city doesn't usually get this much snow, so it's one big wet, slushy, sloppy mess here. On Monday I went to the Covered Bazaar and the surrounding area with Selim, and by the time I got home after several hours of trapesing around there, my pants were soaked up to my knees. It was totally worth it. Not only did I make away with a bunch of goodies (of which I bargained for in true Turkish fashion with Selim coaching me) from the bazaar, but I also saw about 4 mosques in the area, each time being reaquaitned with how soggy my pants were.

In the next couple days I'll hang out with some more friends and then....who knows? Everything is still up in the air.

Go with the flow, they say. I am enjoying hanging out with my Turkish friends here. They are so hospitable and making sure my every need is met. However, I have to admit that I'm anxious to get home and see my sweetheart again. I can't believe how heartsick I am!

The Generosity of the Turks

2005-01-31T02:46:00.000-08:00

One day, Mehmet left Istanbul for his village. It was a long drive, with many twists and turns in the road. After a few hours of driving, Mehmet passed a stopped car on the roadside. The driver of the lame car was inspecting a flat tire. Mehmet had seome extra time, so he turned around and went to help the guy.

Upon closer inspection, Mehmet discovered that no only was the tire ripped, but the rim was badly damaged, no thanks to the wonderful Turkish roads. Mehmet decided to take the man and his tire to the nearest town and make sure the stranger was taken care of before continuing on to the village. Once the man had his tire and rim replaced, Mehmet drove him back to his car and said good-bye.

Several years later, Mehmet and his family, in the same old car he had been driving for 10 years, were driving down the same road on a cold and rainy night. The rain was heavy and the roads were near flooding. The old car became saturated with water and eventually stalled, not to be started again. Mehmet got out to look under the hood, but since it was dark, he couldn't see much and decided to get back into the car.

As he opened the driver's door, another car pulled up from behind. A man in his thirties got out and offered some help.

"Since the weather is so bad, you and your family can stay the night at my place and we'll take care of your car in the morning."

Although he didn't really want to leave his car on the side of the road overnight, Mehmet saw no other option so he agreed. That night, he and his family had a lovely dinner prepared for them and slept in warm beds. The next morning, they awoke to find a huge spread of breakfast foods waiting for them. When he walked outside into the morning sun, there was his car, fixed and ready to go!

"What's this?" asked Mehmet. "Why are you being so generous?"

The man replied, "Do you remember five years ago you helped me with my flat tire? Now it is my turn to repay you for your kindness!"

------

True story, folks! And you thought this only happened in fairy tales or "Chicken Soup for the Soul" books.

Kurban Bayram

2005-01-25T06:48:00.000-08:00

Living in Trabzon can get me down. Aside from the three weeks when Kyle was here, my life is pretty monotonous. I wake up and lay in bed for an hour or so, staying in the warm bed trying to motivate myself to take a shower in an ice box. Then I dilly-dally around with several distractions at once, such as trying to find a song in my music collection to play for my students (unsuccessful thus far), pulling all the hair out of my brush or counting all the unmailed postcards I have written (currently 12--written 2 months ago). Then around noon I get ready to go to work. After work, I grab a quick bite to eat and head for the Internet cafe. At some point I drag myself up the hill and go to bed only to start all over again tomorrow.

So having a break from the monotony was nothing less than fantastic.

I flew to Istanbul on the first day of the four-day holiday, and it was really great to get off the plane and be embraced by someone who was happy to see me. I jumped into the car with Bahadir and Neslihan and headed for Chorlu, a city just west of Istanbul in the European side of Turkey, aka Thrace.

The view was wonderful! Nothing like the mountains around Trabzon. We got to Chorlu around 2 and I met Bahadir's family. Sitting around the kitchen table, his sister asks me,

"Are you a vegetarian?"

"Yes."

"What do you think of Kurban Bayram?"

Kurban Bayram translates roughly to "Feast of the Sacrifice", and commemorates one of the ten trials of Abraham, in which he was called on to kill his own son by God (actually Satan disguised as God). Just as he was about to perform the sacrifice, God stopped him and told him that the sacrifice had already been made. In his son's place, he sacrificed a camel and they feasted.

Before talking with Bahadir and his family extensively about this, I have to admit I thought that the whole affair was rather disgusting and cruel. I felt an incredible sadness that all the animals I had been seeing on the side of the roads would be dead by the weekend.

As Bahadir explained it to me, there are three elements of the sacrifice. The first is the sacrifice of money and physical effort. Animals are expensive, so families go in on one together. Up to 7 families can share one, but this year Bahadir's family split it between four. The total cost was about 2000 YTL (Yeni Turkish Lira), which is about $1500. The physical effort required to deal with the meat is huge. In the morning, the men of the family go to the fields (or where ever the animals are being held) and buy the animal. While they are bargaining, each head of the household shake hands vigoursly with the seller. I saw this on TV and it looks quite funny. Four men on one side and the seller on the other, shaking hands up to shoulder-level and down to hip level, the whole while negotiating price. Once the animal is sold, the families take it to the killing place where they say a prayer, to praise God and bless the animal. I didn't actually see the sacrifice myself for a couple reasons. The first being that my plane came in the afternoon and the sacrifice is a whole day affair, starting after the first morning prayer. Secondly, the men are the ones who take care of that part anyway. As far as I know and understand, women don't participate until the meat comes home.

A word regarding the meat here. The animal must be at least a year old, although larger animals, such as cows or camels, must be at least two years old. It must also be healthy, not ill, pregnant, or otherwise defected. Acceptable animals are camels, cows, and chicken (if one doesn't have a lot of money). Islamic law forbids eating pork, monkeys, dogs, cats, or other carnivores. In fact, the only meat that should be consumed is meat that has been blessed by God. Kosher meat is acceptable.

The killing itself must have good intentions, as this is done for need rather than pleasure. Therefore, the killing must not be performed in a cruel or painful way. The preferred method is cutting the jugular vain so the animal loses blood, goes into shock and loses consciousness, and dies of cardiac arrest.

The whole family participates in cutting up the meat, as is observed in this photograph.

It's a dirty job, but they do it every year.

The second element of the sacifice is to find poor people to give meat to. Many people don't know poor people directly, so finding them can be a job. (I'm not sure if there are agencies that help with this or not, though in this day and age I'm sure there are.) When the poor are found, they have to be convinced to take the meat. People have an honor here that won't allow them to accept something without giving something in return, so convincing someone to take something isn't always easy. (I've tried to convince people to take money from me for instance, but generally to no avail.)

Finally, there is the element of human nature. According to Muslim thinking, humans are innately violent. By sacrificing an animal, the need to kill is satisfied without harming other people.

As I sat there in the kitchen watching all this meat being cut up, it was difficult for me to imagine that all of it had been a living breathing animal that morning. What struck me was the strong connection Turks have with their food. How many Americans cut up the meat they eat? A few, but definitly not the majority. About 60% of Turks sacrifice an animal every year, and what they keep lasts until the next killing.

In other places in Turkey, people were celebrating in the streets. I watched a broadcast from a city on the southern coast called Aslankoy (Lion Village). There was music with drums and a zurna (very loud, double-reeded clarinet without keys--my favorite wind instrument ever), dancing, passing out toys to the children, cooking fires, and eating all kinds of food. They were making garbonzo beans with meat and blood(?), rice and butter, popcorn and roasted garbonzo beans being swept around the cooking surface with a pine needle branch, green kebabs, apple and peach conserve, deep fried sweets, sugary sweets, and gozleme (just to name a few). It all looked really fun and I wanted to go! But that was several thousand kilometers away.

After several hours of working on the meat, they put it away for the night and resumed work in the morning. It was almost never ending!

Around 2 o'clock the next day, Bahadir, his wife Neslihan, his sister Nur, and I piled into his car and headed for Tekirdag (the 'g' is silent), a city known for its Raki. While I didn't get to see where they make the raki (it was a holiday after all), I did get to see the Marmara Sea.

As you can see, it is nothing compared to the Black Sea. Well, maybe you can't really tell. To me, the Marmara Sea is what I imagined living next to water would be like. I look at it and I can breathe. The shores are calm and earthy. The landscape nearby, as you saw, is open and wide. I could walk here for hours! And it would probably feel like I was going nowhere. But damn! Sometimes I feel like I'm suffocating in Trabzon.

On Saturday, we left Chorlu and headed back to Istanbul. We didn't move very quickly because we stopped at almost everyone's house on the way. First some work friends with the cutest 2-year old, then an uncle, another uncle, and finally Neslihan's parents' house. Phew! Eariler in the day, I mentioned something about wanting to buy a Turkish carpet, so Bahadir took me to the Covered Bazaar, but since it was still Bayram, it was closed. No problem, because it was getting dark and the perfect time to do my favorite hobby: nighttime photography!

And then we went bowling!

On Sunday I fought my way through the most crowded airport ever and headed back to Trabzon. Walking around the city though, didn't have any sense of homecoming. Nobody is here to greet me, hug me. As I walked through the streets, I found myself walking rather slowly. "Am I tired?" Yes, but not because of any phyiscal activity or because the hour-and-a-half flight was strenuous. I'm tired of Trabzon. Tired of the congestion, the yelling, the honking of horns, the constant city bustle, narrow streets, and lack of city parks.

Right now I'm in the winter slump. Everything is brown, grey, and dingy. Nothing green, nothing beautiful. Once spring arrives (which is around a month and a half from now), I'll head for the mountains and be dazzled by spring colors like I keep seeing advertised in the photo shops. In the meantime, I'm playing the saz and hugging electric heaters.

Ouch! That one was a little hot.

Idle time

2005-01-23T10:34:00.000-08:00

Well, I have a lot of time on my hands these days. I went to Istanbul for Kurban Bayram and a great time. More on that later though, as the writing process takes some time and I just got back today.

In the meantime, check out this weird trend in the blogosphere.

Love Bomb

2005-01-15T09:59:00.000-08:00

I found this on the BBC website today. Is the US military for real?

Frescoes are so amazing

2005-01-13T10:14:00.000-08:00

On my first visit to Aya Sofia here in Trabzon, I failed to see some amazing work. A few weeks later I picked up a brochure from the tourist office and saw something like this photograph. I thought the brochure was lying! I was sure this wasn't there.

Imagine my surprise when I went with Kyle when I saw this. Just thought I'd share some more.

People! Come and visit me so that you may see these things for yourself! But not until summer when I have vacation...

I spoke too soon

2005-01-12T10:39:00.000-08:00

Isn't it always the case that when you release attatchment from something a wish you had, you get it?

Exactly twenty-four hours after writing my previous entry, I meet another American woman living in Trabzon, who also doesn't have any close friends around. I only got to speak with her for a whole 15 minutes, but the possiblity of frienship is good. She has a great laugh and laughs easily (like me!), is strong and independent, has lived abroad for some time (about two years) and is an English teacher. I'm excited to hang out with her. How did I meet her?

Yesterday evening, one of Emma's friends came to the school for a visit. She told us about an English teacher EFL conference that's happening at KTU (the Black Sea Technical University) until Friday and invited all of us to attend. "Awesome!" I thought. I've been feeling a bit frustrated with my evening class lately because they come in after a long day's work right after dinner and are so difficult to motivate at times. It was just the thing I needed. Not only did I meet this fantastic woman, I also met other English language teachers (all Turkish). A few of them invited me to their town 2 hours away for a visit. They said, "We need native-speakers in our class!"

After today's seminars, I went back to school and planned the most kick-ass lesson ever. The lesson went smoothly, my students learned what they needed, and the retained what they learned (at least for the two-hour lesson). Yahoo!

To close, let me comment on the Internet cafes music taste. Mostly the guys running various outfits listen to Turkish pop music, which I must admit grates on my nerves after a while. I love Turkish folk music, but I just can't jive with the pop, especially when I hear the same 8 songs in a constant loop. Sometimes they'll play American music, but it's usually Celine Dion or EMINEM (there are a couple EMINEM songs I like, but they don't play those--they play the ones I don't particularly care for). I think I have found my favorite Internet cafe now, after four months of searching. They don't play much Turkish pop music, nor do they play too much American pop music. What I like is that they play a variety of music. In fact, right now they are playing a song I used to listen to in college, bringing me back to a dark and smoky dorm room with my best friend and our boyfriends named Jeremy. Ah, those days!

Hm, I just discovered they are playing this song by pure accident. Apparently, they downloaded the song from the Internet and somebody, somewhere, confused the title of the song, "Evanescence" (by scorn), with the name of the band, Evanescence. Ha ha!

This month my phone bill will be smaller

2005-01-11T00:16:00.000-08:00

It's amazing how different I felt having a close friend visit. While Kyle was here, I didn't make nearly as many phone calls home as I usually do. I also didn't take an hour to get out of bed, and I ate more meals at home. These are all things I tell myself I'll do (or not do as the case may be), but I never really follow through. My life is so simple here that sometimes it's difficult to motivate myself to do even simple things, such as get out of bed when I wake up.

Now things will go back to normal. I'll go to work at noon, plan lessons for a few hours, teach for a couple hours, go to the Internet cafe, eat a small dinner, read, then go to bed. On the weekends I'll teach for several hours, go the Internet cafe, eat, read, then go to bed. Somewhere in there I'll practice the saz.

How is my life so simple here but oh-so busy back in the States? Mostly, I don't have many people to hang out with here. At first this really brought me down, but as more time passes I'm happy to have all this time to myself. The only thing to distract me from what I want to accomplish is myself. While this is a blessing, it is also my greatest challenege. This is the year I overcome laziness.

Just looked up "lazy" in the dictionary. Do I want to look back at my life and remember my year in Turkey as inert, passive, procrastinating, unindustrious? Hell no! I want to see myself as involved, animated, delightful, and alive!

That's it. I'm going to the gym right now. Wee!

Title Schmitle

2005-01-09T11:26:00.000-08:00

Feast your eyes on all this snow!

To start with, the view from my office. From here I can see what kind of weather is coming within a few hours. If I can't see the mountains, I prepare myself for a dreary day. I can also see the coast, and if that disappears, I curse myself for leaving my umbrella at home.

Sumela in a soft blanket of snow. It wasn't as cold as it looks. Of course, Kyle and I were hiking at a good click up a mountain.

Some people say we look alike. I think it's just the clothes.

Some reckless skier that was my teacher. See his website.

Breaking with the theme, there is no snow here. This is the view from Ataturk's Pavillion, way above Trabzon. It was so peaceful up there.

This was the view a couple hours out of Erzurum. It took my breath away! I have never been in a mountain range totally covered in snow.

An hour or so later, the sky was softly glowing.

Bumped my head, scraped my face, and sprained my ankle

2005-01-06T08:09:00.001-08:00

Being a first-time skier has many advantages. People help you put on your ski boots, no matter how many times you undo them to get your pants just right; if you fall down on the bunny hill, somebody will help you up; the ski lift attendants are forgiving if you go the wrong way when getting off; and most importantly, you can make a total ass of yourself by doing something as simple as trying to get your lift pass to make the turnstile work.

I did all of these things and then some. Kyle gave me some quick and dirty lessons on how to go down hill and turn, but I failed to learn how to stop quickly, which would become a major disadvantage later. After a couple hours on the bunny hill, Kyle encouraged me to try the steeper one.

"The view is great from up there," he said. My curiosity peaked and I agreed to go. As the second lift whisked us away, I had a moment of doubt, but I decided to ignore it.

Even though I had itty-bitty nightmares of my lift seat breaking off the half-inch cable and plummeting into the snow and pine trees below, it was a cool ride. I looked behind me briefly and saw the whole of Erzurum and the low flat valley it inhabits. In the distance were more mountains, equally as white as the ones we were on. It's so cool how far the human eye can see when given the opportunity. I made a mental note to bring my camera up here before leaving.

And the skiing commenced. At first the trail was really wide, and Kyle told me to just follow him and everything would be fine. Before I could make any significant distance, I found myself going way too fast for my own good. I panicked, forgot to turn, and crashed right into a baby pine tree. One of my skis fell off and I had one hell of a time trying to get it back on. I felt like giving up right there and then, but there was no other choice but to continue. I couldn't "walk" back, sideways up the hill, to take the ski lift down and there was no way I was gonna face the embarrassing walk down the hill, so I persevered. I managed a hairpin turn and a super fast straight path for a bit. The latter was the coolest because I got to ski on virgin snow! It was exhilarating.

Then came the home stretch before the bunny hill. It was a little steeper than the first stretch and in the shadows of the mountain. Halfway down, I started to go too fast again, and tried to remember Kyle's words of not panicking, because that is when you freeze up and forget what to do. It worked for a bit, but then I sped up and totally freaked out. Next thing I knew, I was sliding down the hill face first. Images of blood and broken bones passed through my mind as I felt my head bang around and my legs flopped as much as my skis would let them.

Then I stopped.

I was on all fours. My hair hung in my face. I was breathing heavily. My face was hot. My left ankle hurt a little, but I didn't break any bones.

"That was spectacular!" Kyle beamed. "Here are your glasses." I looked around and saw the remnants of the Nicole-explosion scattered about. My left ski, my cap, my ski poles, my glasses. I hugged the cold snow, not thrilled about going the rest of the way down. Eventually I got up and skied down the rest of the hill. I was shaking now, and definitely needed a break, so we headed to Chalet Polan.

Back in the Chalet, I briefly checked out my face, which was burning by this time, and saw that no damage had been done. Thankfully snow is soft, so I didn't acquire any scrapes or cuts. Kyle was still eager to get some more skiing in, so we agreed to stay a couple more hours. Since my clothes were wet, I decided to also get some more time in on the slopes before my body temperature cooled, but as I walking to the lift I could feel my ankle speaking to me. Sure enough, on my first post-wipe-out run, I wiped out again, but this time I lost both my skis! This was a sign from the universe, encouraging me to quit for the day, so I headed back to the chalet and iced my ankle. Afterwards I went back to the tippy-top and took some photos. I didn't dare ski down this time, but took the lift down instead.

It was bitter cold on that lift, but I swear, coming down slowly like that, floating above the trees and other skiers, is like descending from heaven. If I had had wings, I would have been an angel. It was breathtaking.

Erzurum itself is a pretty nice place. Even the coal cloud hanging over it isn't overtly noticable between all the buildings, unlike Trabzon. The people are friendly and helpful when we ask for directions. They either take us there or give us enough directions to memorize and then instruct us to ask again. Last night, one man was so eager to help us that he changed direction of where he was headed and took us to his favorite restaurant. Then he called his brother in Denizli (southwestern Turkey) who had lived in the US for some time and had me speak with him. His brother wanted to talk with me more, so he gave me his email address.

The water here is simply amazing. You can drink the tap water because it comes directly from the mountains. I could drink gallons of it. The bread is also wonderful. It's a bit wider than in Trabzon and softer, but not in a WonderBread way. In a light and airy way. Anyway, it's really good, too.

Tomorrow we head back to Trabzon and hopefully we'll be able to get some sightseeing in before we leave with my bum ankle. There are several cool things here, one of them being the Ethnography museum. Yeehaw!

Insert Creative Title for Recent Events Here

2005-01-04T11:11:00.000-08:00

Since Kyle arrived on Christmas Eve, I have found myself planning lessons in a hurry and wishing my classes were shorter. We have had a lovely time together visiting various sights in and around Trabzon. Some of the places we went are Sumela, Ataturk's Pavilion, Boztepe, Aya Sofia, and the Russian Bazaar. We've also gone shopping in numerous other stores for various items, including some special jewelry.

Now what do we need jewelry for? As of New Year's Day, we are officially engaged!

To celebrate, I'm taking the day off tomorrow and we're going to Erzurum, a town about 5 hours south of here, to go skiing. I have never been downhill skiing in my life and Kyle hasn't been since he was thirteen, so hopefully we'll manage okay.

I have photographs of the last couple weeks, but it's frustating keeping a photo blog without my own computer. I can't tell you how many times I've installed this program I need to upload my pictures from my camera to the computer and every time it's been deleted. Grrrr!

See you after Erzurum, folks!

Ah, the baglama

2004-12-28T11:08:00.000-08:00

I had another lesson today, girl! It was super. I'm learing how to add ornamentation and it sounds so cool! I hope that one day I can play for all of you. At the moment I'm not very confident about playing for people, but I'll get there.

When I'm learning something new, it's so frustrating, because it takes a while for my fingers to catch up with my brain. After a while, I can do it, and I get flutters in my stomach and my fingers just dance.

Today I asked him who is oldest student is--one guess as to who that is. He has unlimited patience when it comes to my catching on. He realizes that when most people pick up the saz, they already know the songs so they catch on really quick. It'll take me a while longer to get the songs etched into my heart, but I tell you some of the already have it. I started learning one of my favorite songs today, and I'm so excited about practising! I have a music degree, but I've never been a dedicated praciticer--that's all changing now.

Well, time to practice now. La la la!

Christmas

2004-12-24T09:05:00.000-08:00

For the first time in my life I find myself thinking about the meaning of Christmas.

Most people here think that Christmas is a special new year's celebration. I'm not sure why they confuse the two. For some reason, they think that Christmas is on the same day as New Year's. When I tell them that indeed it's not, they still insist on translating "Christmas" to "New Year's". So then I find myself explaining that Christmas is the day that Jesus was (supposedly) born and everyone in Europe and the States celebrates his birthday. With my limited language skills, it's difficult to explain that while the day on the calendar is called Christmas, not everyone believes Jesus was/is the Son of God and what we are celebrating is entirely unrelated. At least, that's how it goes in my family.

So as I prepare try to bring Christmas to my apartment with meager decorations, I contemplate what it really means to me. I always knew (and told others) that Christmas was about getting together with family and showing them that I love them, but now I feel it. I can almost hear the Christmas carols my dad is playing on the stereo. I can smell my mother baking her annual Christmas cookies and stollen, a sweet German holiday bread with raisins, currents, and nuts. I can hear the hushed voices of what my siblings are getting Mom and Dad this year. The crinkle of wrapping paper and the zzzt of the tape dispenser float around my ears with the anticipation of the recipient opening the hidden treasure fluttering around my heart.

With my parents and brother in Madison, my sister in some other far-off Middle Eastern country this year, and me here in Turkey, Christmas is going to have a very different feel this year. Perhaps this is the start of a new chapter for my family. People usually celebrate in the family unit, later go to the grandparents, and then celebrate even later with friends. Kyle arrived this morning, so this our first Christmas without either of our families close to us.

Ah, the poor dear! He traveled for about two days on six planes to get here from Ecuador. He is now sleeping soundly at home and may wake up at 3 am, before even the first call to prayer.

Merry Christmas, friends!

Convenience

2004-12-21T10:33:00.001-08:00

American convenience stores could learn something from the Turks.

In the States, these so-called convenience stores offer over priced, over processed, chemically laden foods that can cause a myriad of health problems after time. It's virtually impossible to find fresh produce or even a healthy snack in one of these places (or even some supermarkets). Hot dogs have been cooking all day on the heated rollers; who knows where the meat came from? "Freshly baked" donuts sitting in the warm glow of a glass case await your soft fingers to put them into your hungry mouth. Where's the oven? Maybe in the store (not bloody likely), maybe in town (it's a possibility), or even in the next state (most probable). What does freshly baked mean? Fresh from a mix? Fresh from storage? Fresh from the donut factory? Even the granola bars that are available are hardly what I would call healthy. If I made granola bars at home that turned out half as crunchy as the store bought ones, I would make a mental note to take them out of the oven a little earlier next time.

These places were not designed with everyone in mind. Only if you have a car and don't care what you eat, then yes, these places are a God-send. I can't tell you how many times I haven't found a safe place to lock my bike and couldn't find a healthy snack in one of these shacks.

The Turkish idea of convenience is truly convenient. Convenient stores are several in every neighborhood (without a gas station). I walk past 6 of them on my way down the hill from my apartment, a walk that takes less than three minutes. They usually sell fresh cheese, butter, an assortment of fresh and organic fruit and vegetables, water, milk, jelly, and lots of other things. They also have some prepackaged junk food, but it doesn't dominate the shelf space like in the States. People know the shopkeepers and probably call them on the phone and tell them what they want. The shopkeeper then brings the goods outside of the proper apartment building where a basket on a rope is waiting. He places the stuff in there and the customer pulls the basket up, unloads, and then lets down the money. How convenient is that? You don't even have to leave your home! If I didn't live on the ground floor, I would arrange something like this.

Another convenience are the cart merchants. Carts are everywhere and anywhere. Some guys walk around, yell/singing their advertisement to the neighborhood. There is one guy who comes through mine buying and selling old metal things: screws, sheets, cans, buckets, rods, wires, frames of all sorts, folding things, and anything else you could think of. Others station themselves randomly (or maybe they have a pattern that I have yet to notice) and stand at an intersection, yell-singing what they are selling and how much it costs. When you walk past them, I hear, "Buoy-roon besh yooz-besh yooz besh-yooz!" or some other price.

Not all of them sing. There is a guy with a fish cart that I sometimes see on my way to work that stands there chatting with his friends or simply waits quietly, cutting the fish or adjusting the buckets of water to keep his fish moist.

Sometimes guys will have a pick-up truck bed full of just one thing like oranges, large bags of onions, potatoes or apples, park somewhere that is convenient and yell out his price. They must be really good deals because they always have people crowding around them. Selling stuff out of the back of station wagons is also common, though rather than food these guys sell clothing items like pajamas, kids clothes, or shoes.

The people working the carts and vehicles are tough to the weather. Last week there was a guy outside my office selling mandarins. It was bitter cold and at one point it started snowing. Instead of packing up, he put up an umbrella. The mandarins looked yummy from the fourth floor, so I went down and bought 1.5 kilos for 2 million lira (just over $1.40).

I wonder how much of an affect wanting to join the European Union will have on the cart merchants. Will they have to jump through more hoops in the law to get permits? Will the fish merchant have to have inspections by the health department? Maybe he already does, I don't know. Many people walk from the villages to Trabzon with a huge wicker basket strapped to their back full of fresh vegetables, nuts, fruits, or carcasses. What will they do?

Some Turks feel joining the EU is a dream that will never be fulfilled, while many others feel it is in a realm of possibility. I was reading last week that Ukraine also wants try their chances at joining, causing the founding EU countries to reconsider where their borders will end. Ten new countries joined last May, many of them agriculturally centered and financially poor, like Turkey. If Turkey joined today, the EU would be in a state of panic because that would cause a major power shift. Turkey has the largest population of any European country (around 60 million) and would then be the ruling majority.

Change is inevitable. Whatever the fate of the cart merchants and Turkey, things will "get different" (to quote my aunt). There will be benefits and consequences. My hope is that Turkey will still have a strong culture and identity, and--call me a dreamer--won't embrace the McDonaldization of the West with open arms.

Things to ponder

2004-12-20T11:04:00.000-08:00

Things to ponder
Originally uploaded by Padre Denny.

I know this isn't about Turkey, but I found this when I was looking at some photos of my hometown.

Three days until Kyle arrives!

Language

2004-12-19T08:45:00.000-08:00

Being a language teacher and attempting to learn a language myself has put the topic of language into the forefront of my existence. Getting my head around English grammar well enough to teach it is challenging, but in a way it's also fun. I like playing with the language and it's great to be learning about something I have been using my whole life that I know little about.

Turkish is just as challenging as English, but on a different level. Whereas I need to be able to explain English grammar without appearing a fool, I need Turkish to function in the real world. Sometimes I sit in cafes or restaurants and just listen to the Turkish sounds rolling over me, not bothering to try to catch every word. My ears catch some of the words, depending in the situation. Sometimes I am able to at least understand the topic of conversation, but other times I am a floundering swimmer in the middle of the Pacific. I wonder about all the people thinking and speaking in Turkish around me and how amazing it is to think that these people have been speaking Turkish their whole lives and have no problem with it, where in a parallel universe I have been speaking English without giving it a second thought.

When I see my students outside of class, I always speak English to them. The other day I ran into one of my students and her mother who lives four flights above me. During our conversation, the postman came by and asked me, in Turkish of course, why I haven't been getting any mail (I've been having it sent to the school). Everyone was quiet, waiting for me to answer. After a few moments I understood what he had asked and replied, "Posta yok!" (There isn't any post.) My student was so delighted that I knew what he was saying that she burst out laughing.

My Turkish must be getting better. Yesterday I dashed out for lunch into a borek and simit shop. Simit are these delicious sesame rings. I wasn't sure about everything they had behind the glass, so always going for the vegetarian option first I asked about something that looked like it had spinach in it. When I asked to explain what was in it, he looked at me like I was asking him to have his baby. After explaining that I only know a little Turkish, a smile spread across his face and he launched into "Where are you from and why are you in Trabzon?"

Every now and then I meet someone here who speaks German. I love speaking German, but I hate having to search for words. I think for every Turkish word I learn, I forget a German one. This concerns me, as this is half of my heritage. Of the three children my parents have, I am the only one who can speak or understand it. When I think about this, I want to pack up all my bags and head straight to my birthplace, and throw myself back into German culture. I have no idea what I would do there, where I would live, or how I would get food, but this desire is sometimes so strong that I feel my heart being ripped in two. But then, I'm young.

Oh, not for long! I just realized that if I live until I'm 80, my life is almost half over. Will I ever get to live in Germany? I hope so.

No time for such thoughts now. I have to learn about relative clauses, subject/object questions, the differences between present perfect and simple past, and what to make for Christmas dinner.

Small talk about the weather

2004-12-15T03:28:00.000-08:00

It's been raining four days during last the eight here, and while it's been snowing all over Turkey for a month now, Trabzon saw snow for the first time two nights ago. It came down in large heavy flakes, drenching everything to make the use of an umbrella necessary. As I trudged up the big hill (which is really the base of a mountain) to my apartment, I was soothed by the sound of water running towards the sea. Even though I was exhausted and cold, I felt I could breathe easier with the sound of water all around me. It was most relaxing.

Last night walking around was almost dangerous. It was snowing again, but this time the temperature had dropped and was making the fallen snow into slushy ice. I was wearing my sneakers and had my baglama slung over my shoulder, so I walked most cautiosly. This morning the cobblestone hill wasn't much better and I learned that going down slippery surfaces is much more difficult than going up. Everything was successful, though and I made it safely to my saz lesson.

Oh!

One of the main reasons I'm here is to learn more about the baglama saz (the 'g' in is silent--bah-lama). Seven years ago I was an exchange student at Marmara University in Istanbul and took about 3 months of saz lessons. What's a saz? Technically, saz means "musical instrument" in Persian, and the baglama is a member of the long necked lute family. It's the most popular folk instrument in Turkey and there are a variety of ways to play it and tune it. I'm still not clear on all the different styles, so as I learn more, I'll tell you more. Right now all I know is that when I hear someone playing it very well, my heart cries out in such a way that I nearly weep with joy. A few weeks ago I started taking lessons with a really good teacher, and I'm now learning the style of improvisation that many players use. The sound of the instrument is soft compared to that of the guitar, but nonetheless full. Check out these sites to learn more.

Here some photos of its loveliness.

Turkish Weddings

2004-12-12T09:45:00.000-08:00

Two people I know were recently married here in Turkey. One is my good friend Bahadir and the other is Emma. The Turkish wedding ceremony is a little different from that in States. Instead of walking down the aile in a church (Muslim people don't go to church), the sit at a table and sign a book next to a guy with a microphone telling something to all the guests. During this time, they also kiss the Koran. What the announcer says might be similar to what they say at American weddings, but I can't be sure. Anyway, after the ceremony, the couple gets up from the table, the announcer introduces them as Mister and Misses So-and-So and they have their first dance. This is followed by much dancing by all the guests and from then on it's your typical post-wedding celebration, but with Turkish music instead of American (duh).

The ceremonies are sometimes held in auditorium halls so that everyone can see. Flowers are given to the couple from people and companies wishing them well.

At Emma's wedding, there were lots of flower arrangements like these here. Afterwards, there was the traditional kissing line as they left the hall (I can't remember if Bahadir's had this or not). As everyone came and kissed her, they gave her either a gold bracelet or pinned a red thing (not sure exactly what the red thing is--a flower?) on her dress. The goal is to make her chest as red as possible.

Why am I showing you this? I got this picture when I came out of the Internet cafe last week in pouring rain. Outside the very expensive Zorlu Hotel were hundreds of these flower arrangements. Apparently, somebody who is very rich got married last Sunday. Wee! I got to see the bride and I must say she was beautiful.

Home Sweet Home

2004-12-12T09:07:00.000-08:00

Here are some photos of my apartment.

My bedroom shortly after arriving in Trabzon.

Here is the living room.

That round, brown thing is the coal stove that we use to heat our place. Recently it hasn't been giving off very much heat. I'm not sure why. So as a back-up on lazy (most) nights, we use the electric heater. Getting coal on your hands is quite annoying, because it stays under your nails for a week.

This is the living room that connects the kitchen to the warm living room. It's the first room you see when you walk into my apartment.

This is where I do my cooking. I made pumpkin soup last week. Mmmm, sweet.

Okay, that's all of my apartment. I could show you the two bathrooms, but do you really want to see them? One is a proper bathroom and the other is hole-in-the-floor-toilet that we have converted to a coal room.

Last Cappadocia Chapter

2004-12-12T07:44:00.000-08:00

The third and last day I woke up in time to say good-bye to all the new friends I had made. Many of them have invited me to visit them some time in the future. Before they left, Asli and her family invited me to walk around Mustafapasha with them. Their destination was a particular street, the old 'main drag' hundreds of years ago.

Some of the dwellings have been frozen and heated so many times that half the rock has fallen off, as you can see here. There were some places closer to the bottom that I peeked into, but there wasn't much there.

Asli and her family had a long drive ahead of them, so they left soon after. I continued walking around and found this old church.

Here is what the inscription above the door says:

I am a church of the most August Royal Couple Constantine and Helen. In the times of Sultan Ahmet entirely built, in times of Abdul Medjit I was adorned as befits me. And in the era when the renowned Paisios was Bishop through efforts and expenses by the public of Sinasos erected from its foundations 1729, repaired in 1850.

This is the inside. Notice the blue marks on the columns, left over from frescoes. I couldn't actually get inside.

After my walk, I spent some time shopping and lounging around the hotel. The hotel staff had closed everything up, I guess because there weren't any more guests coming for a while after Bayram. Ismail had been speaking to me for two days in English, but for some reason he switched to Turkish this last day. As a result, I misunderstood him when he told me to catch a bus out of Mustafapasha to Urgup at 3:45. I thought he said he would take me. So at 4 o'clock I approached him and he explained what he had said earlier in English. Oy yoy yoy!

He quickly flagged down a passing car (not very many of these in a town of 600) with two army guys, one of whom spoke English. They very kindly took me all the way to the bus station. A couple hours later, I boarded the bus and started on the 16 hour bus ride back to Trabzon, which was made easier by talking to my seat companions. The first was a young woman studying to be an English teacher and the second a man studying to be a Special Ed teacher.

As I got off the bus in Trabzon, a man approached me asking if I am Nicole. Neslihan couldn't meet me at the bus station, so she arranged for someone to make sure I got on the shuttle bus that took me to her place. They fed me soup and unlimited amounts of lahmacun (la-h-ma-june), a Turkish style of pizza (kind of). There isn't any tomato sauce and no cheese, but it has meat, tomatoes, and other things on a thin dough. It's really good.

With food in my belly and my head as heavy as lead, I went home and crashed.

Aaaaah, to be home!

Cappadocia, the second day

2004-12-09T04:59:00.000-08:00

First stop on the tour was the Red Valley overlook.

Next stop: Goreme.

The Goreme Open Air Museum is on the site of an old religious town.

There are several churches, monasteries, and nunneries. Some of them were built in the 6 century, but most of them are from the 9th century. Often times there were several levels above ground to these places, but time has not been kind to these passageways as many of them have collapsed, so one can only get to the ground floor in many of them. Even so, one could still pass through the many other passages connecting the existing rooms. Some of the places I saw were old dining rooms, kitchens, and chapels.

As much as possible was carved out of the rock. In the dining rooms, the eating and sitting surfaces were rock, and were probably covered by carpets, kilims and/or cushions to make them more comfortable. Little nooks had been carved out of the wall for storage and pits had been dug out of the floor for fires. Just walking through, everything looked bare and pale, but I tried to imagine what it had been like, carpets on the floors, curtains hanging from the windows, fires crackling in the pits, people calling out to each other, and dishes clanking together as a meal was being prepared.

After I wandered around the tourist shops for a bit, Ismail and I headed for Uchisar, the Rock Castle. On the way, we stopped at his friend's onyx workshop. (Ismail doesn't have time to make onyx sculptures anymore.) His friend showed me how the process for making these little works of art.

First you start with solid onyx.

Then you cut it into a block using a diamond blade. See the square thingee on the right block? That is used to hold the rock in place while it is turned round and round in the carving machine.
You can do any shape you want: elephants, egg holders, vases, lamps, chess boards, etc.

Cut off extra block on bottom. Polish. Viola! You have an onyx sculpture.

This is very dusty work and I am concerned about the effects of the dust on the lungs.

So then Uchisar. It can be seen a long distance away and provides a gorgeous view of a portion of the Cappadocia area. As it was a cloudy day, my photos of this didn't turn out as so nicely, so you'll just have to imagine what it looked like.

After that, we went to Pashabagi (pasha-baaah), a collection of fairy chimneys in which people once lived. Here is how the area formed.

It took millions of years for the
ash from these volcanoes to form a
layer of tuff, covered in places by
a further layer of basalt lava. The
basalt ultimately cracked and split
under attack from the weather and
rainwater seeped down through the
cracks and splits to slowly erode
the tuff itself. The natural effects
of alternating very hot and very cold
weather and the rain and the wind
breaking down the rock's resistance
caused (and continues to cause) the
emergence of the tall cones of tuff
capped by hard basalt which the Turks
call Fairy Chimneys.*

A couple ladders were available in case anyone wanted to climb in, which I did, and lost all my pocket's contents in the process. Nothing like dusty candy!

For lunch we went to an itty-bitty town called Zelva. I had gozleme, which is dough rolled thin with a long, narrow stick into a circle (much like yufka--see "How to make Borek"). Meat, cheese or spinach is put on the bottom half of the circle with a pat of butter and the other half is folded down. Then it is cooked on a big rounded metal circle shaped like a mushroom with fire underneath. It was in this place that I met Sehan Hanim, another of the guests from the hotel. She didn't speak a word of English, but could sometimes understand me if I spoke in English. Mostly I spoke Turkish on this trip, though. Sehan Hanim is 65, from Adana, and full of life. We had great laughs together.

Ismail invited Sehan Hanim and her family along to go to the last stop: Avanos. This town is famous for one particular pottery shop, where they teach you how to throw a pot.

We entered the place and sat on colorful benches where a man showed us how to throw a jug. First he pounded all the air out of the clay, and then he sat down at a kick wheel and most elegantly formed a red clay jug. A tour of the place followed into various cave rooms full of various pottery pieces.

The pottery was beautiful and included huge plates, small plates, ashtrays, bowls, vases, and jugs. Every piece was painted in a different style with colors spanning the rainbow.

This pottery shop also holds the Guiness Book of World's Record for the largest hair collection. I don't know how many strands of hair they have, although I'm sure it's over 10,000. One of the pottery guys started his collection about 10 years ago (if I remember correctly) by taking strands of hair from women only. Every year they randomly choose 10 strands and those women win a 15-day vacation where they can choose to ride horses all week or learn how to throw pots. So I tried my luck and added my hair to the collection.

By this time, I was dead tired. As soon as I got back to the hotel, I laid down in my new and heated (!) room and promptly fell asleep for four hours! I woke up at midnight and found my new friends sitting in the parlor drinking Cappadocian wine. They all spoke English, so we had great conversations. A few hours later, I went back to bed.

Cappadocia

2004-12-06T11:45:00.000-08:00

Well, as it turns out, I didn't go to Gumushane. The school that wanted me wasn't willing to pay enough money, so it wasn't worth my time. Boy am I glad I didn't go, because the very next day I was ill. Phew!

Now back to my Cappadocia travels. Where were we?

Ah, yes. On the way to the bus terminal, Emine Hanim gave me instructions to take a dolmush from the Nevshehir bus terminal to Urgup to try to find a cheap pension. She had arranged for me to stay at a very expensive hotel in a little place called Mustafapasha, just in case I couldn't find a place on my own. She also gave me a list of places to visit in the area.

What I did: Since it was the first day of Bayram, there weren't any dolmushes, so I had to take a taxi. My driver had his 7-year-old son with him, and as soon as he caught on that I spoke a bit of Turkish began telling me all about the area at such a rapid pace that I could barely keep up with him! I told him that I just wanted to go to Urgup and find cheap lodging, but we ended up going all the way to Mustafapasha (a good 20 km further) because I told him about my hotel. A minor mistake, as you'll see in a few moments.

On the way, he stopped to gas up his car and stop at a lookout so I could take a photograph, the meter running the whole time. I couldn't help but feel a little anxious. Here I was, on my own in a new country where I didn't know the language, not knowing where I was going to lay my head for the next couple days. I must admit, I was a little scared.

When we arrived in Mustafapasha at about 1 o'clock in the afternoon, we stopped in the town center. Off to the left were weird people dancing to club music dressed up in red wigs, orange feather boas, and other strange outfits. Off to my left were some older Turkish men sitting on a bench. My taxi driver leaned yelled over my lap and asked them if they knew of a cheap place to stay. I was suspicious of the situation; how did I know these men didn't know each other and were just trying to set me up in their friend's place? One of the men on the bench recommended Hotel Pacha, just up the hill. It was there I met my host for the next three days, Ismail. Ismail told me he didn't have a vacancy, but told me I could sleep in the room he normally sleeps in, and that he would sleep elsewhere. After we bargained on the price, I agreed. Then I went to get my bags from the taxi.

At the bus terminal, I misunderstood what the driver had said, and thought I was to pay 5 million Turkish Lira to get to Urgup. Imagine my surprise when he asked for 52 million!
He told me it cost an extra 20 million to get from Urgup to Mustafapasha. Oi!

The room where I stayed is on the left through the last arch.

Upstairs. To the right is a lovely view of some Cappadocian landscape, and to the left is the door to the room I stayed the second night. Ismail is here with the blue and black cap.

As I settled into my little room, I wondered what I would do next. Having no guide book and only a list of places to visit, I wasn't sure what would happen. I needn't have worried, because as soon as I went upstairs, Ismail took care that my every need was met. He immediately took me on a quick little tour of the area around Mustafapasha. There are some old churches carved out of the stone nearby. He showed me the nicest one.

Front of church. I imagine it was painted lovely colors around the doorway.

Ismail inside the chapel.

View from the altar.

A sample of the frescoes.

After the church, he took me down a really muddy road to a mineral spring. He had me taste the water coming out of it, and it tasted very similar to mineral water without the carbonation, which was quite awful to my tongue. I had a few sips, just to savor the experience, but blech! it tasted terrible.

On the way back to town, he offered to take me on a tour of Cappadocia the next day. The taxi driver had offered the same thing for $100, but Ismail was only asking $50, so I accepted.

At this point I was getting quite hungry, so we headed back to town and I went to the restaurant that had all the strange people dancing in front of it. By this time, everyone was dancing, strange European people and Turks alike, to traditional Turkish music. A clarinetist and a drummer were playing loudly while the group had formed a circle, which was going very rapidly in a clockwise direction. Everyone seemed to be having a blast!

I observed for a bit, but then went and sat by a window in the huge dining room. The restaurant owner opened the curtains so I wouldn't miss any of the action. It was a strange scene, all these people in clubbing gear dancing in broad daylight to traditional Turkish music. There were several people video taping the whole thing with some amateur and professional video cameras.

At some point during my meal, an older gentleman came into the room with a saz and began packing it up. I hadn't seen him play, so I told him in my best Turkish that I was sad to have missed his performance, and that I'm interested in learning to play it as well. Upon hearing this, he became very excited and told me that he was having some friends come over tonight around 9 o'clock and would I be interested in coming, too? Sure! He knew my hotel host, so he knew where to pick me up later that evening.

As I paid my bill, I overheard the strangers speaking English. I went over and talked to them. It was then that I learned this was a group on a pilot project called the Human Web. (Their card says www.humanweb.tv, but it doesn't seem to work for me. Maybe y'all will have better luck than me.) Their goal is to make a new type of reality show, one with meaning. They want to learn about other people's celebrations, so they are going around the world and having a never ending party, so to speak. People from several countries are participating: Italy, England, Turkey, Spain, Lebanon, Canada, and some others I can't remember.

The party seemed to be closing down at this point, so I headed back to the pension. On the short way up the hill, I stopped at a shop that Ismail owns.

He explained to me earlier that he grew up in Mustafapasha and that his first business was this shop selling onyx sculptures which he made. One day, a man who owned the building that is now Hotel Pacha approached Ismail and asked him if he wanted to buy the place. Of course Ismail jumped at the opportunity and spent the next 10 years building the place up. His sons now run the shop which sells everything from onyx egg holders to hookahs to jewelry to small kilims. At the hotel, Ismail has a collection of woven carpets for sale. It was fun watching the other guests picking out their carpets. I plan on buying one myself, but I feel I should save a little first.

Back at the hotel, I met some of the other guests. My first encounter was a Turkish woman, Neval, and her friends. Neval is from Adana and her friends were from the Istanbul area. Most of them spoke English very well, one of them having lived in the States for 10 years. One woman was my age, Asli, and we hit it off pretty well. At one point we were looking at a book of Ismail's on Cappadocia and we came across a photograph of an old medrese. Neval said something, and before I knew it, five of us were walking out of the hotel and towards Ismail's shop. Across from the shop was a large building, the very same we were just looking at in the book! On either side of the doorway were columns, and Neval proceeded to turn them. This was totally amazing. They were designed to be a signal as to whether the building was balanced or not. Turkey is fraught with fault lines, so this measures the stability of the foundation. In the 600 or so years that this place has been standing, no major earthquakes have caused any damage because the columns turned with great ease. (I thought I took a picture of this place, but I didn't. Many apologies, 'cause it's really neat looking.) The medrese is now a carpet shop.

Shortly after this, Sülyeman, the saz player, came by to pick me up. He took me to his home, an old church, and gave me the grand tour. First we through a little door and negotiated down some very steep steps into the basement. There were two rooms: one with a wood stove lit in green light and another open room with benches on three sides lit with a small black light and disco ball. Everything was carved out of rock, much like the rest of Cappadocia. We went back upstairs and around a couple corners and I found myself looking at an old chapel into which a set of stairs had been built. Eight steps went up the outer walls to a small landing, and eight more steps went up in the center of the altar area. He took me up these and when I got to the top, he had me turn around. It was at this point that I saw this.

After the tour we went back to the basement and hung out in the green room, where he introduced me to his two daughters and their girlfriends who served me unlimited amounts of tea, baklava and dolma. We also danced our booties off in the open room where they taught me some Turkish dance moves.

Just as they were starting to show me how to belly-dance, Sülyeman came back with three or four friends, one of whom played the saz. Ahmet was the saz player, whom I later learned works in the medrese-turned-carpet-shop. Here he is playing the electric saz, which has a thicker, smoother sound than the acoustic. Ahmet tried to teach me a song on the saz, and I was able to pluck it out to everyone's satisfaction, but don't ask me to play it now. After a while, the saz playing ended, at which point I was becoming extremely tired. Sülyeman put on his coat, and instructed me not to fall asleep. His friends were coming in 20 minutes. Oh man, I thought his friends were already here!

As I sat there, drinking my twelfth glass of tea, I couldn't help wondering how many people were coming and how long everything was going to last. I didn't think this for long, however, because soon the Human Web crew came into the room and began pumping dance music through the speakers. The guy I met earlier was surprised and happy to see me, as I had been the topic at dinner for them. At some point they interviewed me on video--so watch out for me on American TV! It was really fun hanging out with them, dancing to Prince in a cave in the middle of Cappadocia.

An hour a half later they left, as did I. I was exhausted. I got back to the hotel at about 2 am, and Ismail was waiting up. He said he was also waiting for another guest, so he showed me the old kitchen, which was next to my room. Then he showed me where he would sleep, on a pile of cushions in the old kitchen. At one point during all this, he asked me if I wouldn't mind sleeping in the same room as me (there were two beds). I didn't feel comfortable with that idea, and I said as much. After closing the door to my room, I didn't feel very safe. So I tied the room key to my pajama pants, propped the ironing board up between the door and the end of the second bed, and put my suitcase in the window. Even then, it took me about an hour to fall asleep. All I could think about was one thing. All women of the world have this in common: we cannot be entirely trustful of men. Grrrr...

At breakfast the next morning, which included the rose jam--my new favorite, I asked Neval what she thought about the situation. She was of the opinion that he shouldn't have asked to sleep in the same room, but she would still go on the tour. She speculated that he probably asked me because I'm a foreign woman and might have more open attitudes to sleeping in rooms with strange men. I didn't get any creepy feelings from him otherwise, so I hung out with him all day, and I can say I regret it.

This is a situation in which part of me is enraged, but on the flip side he made sure I had everything I needed. On the tour, he took me everywhere and let me stay as long as I wished. He didn't follow me around unnecessarily or make me feel uncomfortable in any other way; he made sure I got good deals on my purchases, and he made sure I was well fed. I have reason to believe he was just being a lazy git when it came to setting up cushions for him sleep on, so I am inclined to forgive him. That said, I still wouldn't let him sleep in the same room as me if the situation came up again.

So the tour. It was awesome! First stop, Göreme Open Air Museum. The tourist price is 15 million Turkish Lira (about $10), but I told the guy I live in Trabzon and he let me in for 3 million ($1.50). Yeehaw for my residence permit!

Okay, I am now up to the point in my story where I need to upload more photos. More later, folks.

Did you miss me?

The Mystic Sufis

2004-11-21T09:16:00.000-08:00

Click here before reading further.

Jelaluddin Rumi was born in present day Afghanistan in 1207 to a family of high social standing. His father was a well-respected judge (or jurist) and also known as the "Sultans of Scholars" in religion (if I understand my research correctly). His mother was the daughter of the ruler of Behl. The Mogul invasion forced his family to leave the land where they had been living for several generations, and as a result, he witnessed horrible things throughout his childhood, including a massacre sponsored by the Khwarizm King wanting to expand his territory (present day Uzbekistan). After living in several cities, including Bagdhad and Damascus, his family settled in Konya when Mevlana was twenty-two. He enrolled at the medrese (Islamic theological school, equivalent to present day universities) and began to study science and religion.

Two years later, his father died. With his father's passing, many people looked to Mevlana as his sole heir. By this time, Mevlana was already a distinguished lecturer in his own rite. He continued to study for the next decade to be an alim (professor) and at age 34 became an orthodox professor on religion and philosophy. He lectured, wrote books, and developed a following of disciples. At this time, he felt music and poetry were distractions and to be avoided. He also taught his followers, numbering over 10,000 at this time, to use logic over emotions.

In 1244, at age 37, he met a wandering dervish named Shams of Tabriz. There are a few stories telling of this meeting. One is that Mevlana meets Shams on his mule while he (Shams) is heading to Konya. Many of Shams' disciples are following him on foot. Shams asks Mevlana some questions mystic in nature, of which Mevlana is blown away. Following this, they spend forty days together, from which Mevlana is changed forever. Another story follows as such: Mevlana is lecturing one day, and Shams enters the room. Pointing to a stack of books, he asks the professor, "What is this?" The professor answers with great annoyance, "You don't know."He continues lecturing, and soon the stack of books catches on fire. Mevlana demands to know, "What is this?" Shams answers the same, "You don't know." Mevlana runs out looking for Shams, but is left lost and confused.

After meeting Shams of Tabriz, Mevlana abandoned all prestige and knowledge he had built up to that time. Shams inspired a spiritual awakening to which Rumi said, "What I had thought of before as God, I met today in a person." Shortly thereafter, Shams died and Rumi was devastated. He tried to find Shams again through prayer, and it was at this time that he began writing poetry. His most marvelous book, written at age 38, is Masnavi, consisting of more than 25,000 verses was a quest to find Shams. Originally in Persian, it has been translated into many languages and has inspired millions. In his poetry, he often uses words such as drunk, wine, gamble, and burn, words often associated with sin in most world religions. He uses them to talk about being drunk with Allah, or burning with love. When your heart is burning with love, he says, you are fully alive, full of compassion for everyone.

His name has a lot of meaning. The title "Mevlana" means "our master". "Jalal" (majesty) plus "din" (religion) equals "Majesty of Religion". He founded the Mevlevi Order of Dervishes, also known as the Whirling Dervishes of Sufism. While turning, they give themselves to Allah completely, mentally and physically, full of love. The turning, called Sema, is done in a space considered to represent the universe. A small circle in the center is the the pole and axis upon which everything depends. The floor is equivalent to the equator of Earth, seperating the two hemispheres. Singing and dancing is done by candlelight, and the circle dancing is done with arms extended just above the shoulders. The right palm faces up towards heaven, while the left palm faces down towards the world. The heart acts as a bridge between the two. The left foot is fixed while the right foot turns the body. The Internet isn’t working well at the moment, so to quote my friend in Ankara, “Whirling is being the way you were meant to be. Stars, the moon, the sun, people around the Kabe, everything is on the correct path as they are meant to be.” The moon whirls around Earth because there is an attraction. The dervishes whirl because they are attracted to Allah. They “fall in the fire” of God’s love and cook from “raw” to “burned”.

The dancing is set to Mevlana’s favorite instrument, the ney, which is what you are listening to now. He wrote a poem about it, called The Complaint of the Ney. The material used to make it was chopped from its land, beloved God, and is crying to be reunited with the beloved.

However, music need not be present for one to dance and attempt unity with God. It has been written that one day Mevlana was walking past a goldsmith’s shop and was pulled into spiritual ecstacy by the pounding sound of the hammer.

To close, here are some words of Mevlana on dancing.

'Dance where you can break yourself to pieces and totally abandon your worldly passion. Real men dance and whirl on the battlefield; they dance in their own blood. When they give themselves up, they clap their hands; when they leave behind the imperfections of the self, they dance. Their minstrels play music from within; and whole oceans of passion, foam on the crest of their waves.'

"Dancing is not getting up any time painlessly like a speck of dust blown around in the wind. Dancing is when you rise above both worlds, tearing your heart to pieces and giving up your soul."

If you would like to read more about Mevlana, click on any of these links.

How to Make Börek

2004-11-20T10:51:00.000-08:00

This is a yummy dish that can be made with spinach, meat, cabbage, or cheese. My hosts in Konya were gracious enough to let me photograph them while they made it. Now you can make it, too! It's really quite easy. Here's how to make the spinach variety:

First, chop enough clean spinach to fill a large bowl.

Then add a special kind of cheese called lor, that is a bit like feta without salt or oil. Also add a few dashes of red pepper flakes and salt and mix it.

Now, take your packaged yufka (a very thin and slightly cooked dough composed of flour, water, egg, butter, oil, sugar, and salt--not to be confused with filo dough) and separate the thin circles very carefully. To keep them from taking up too much space, fold them into squares and place them to the side. Lay one piece out at a time slice it down the center to make a semi-circle. Seperate one egg. Mix the white part with a bit of milk and oil. Dribble some on the dough. Sprinkle a bit of the spinach mixture onto the long end of the dough, then roll it into the form of a snake, starting at the spinach end. Then roll the snake into a spiral and place it on a pan.

When all your boreks on the pan, mix the egg yolk with some oil and paint them tops. Bake until golden brown on the edges. After you take it out of the oven, sprinkle a little water on them and cover until cool. You can use any ripped yufka to repair your spirals. If you don't want spiral borek, you can cover the bottom of a deep glass pan with a layer of yufka, dribble on the egg-white mixture, and put in a layer of spinach. Add a few more layers of yufka and paint the top layer with the egg-yolk mixture. The rest is the same.

Emine Hanim made this the day before for Bayram breakfast, the first daylight breakfast after the month of fasting. We all went over to her mother's for this special meal. Selvinur told me they go over there every year to celebrate her grandmother's Bayram.

You should have seen the pile of shoes outside her grandmother's apartment! (Turks don't wear outdoor shoes inside the house as a matter of cleanliness.) Selvinur's little cousin, Ayshe, was there and she was most adorable. As a matter of respect to elders, one is to kiss the top of their hand and press it onto your forehead. Everyone did put Ayshe's hand through the motions and then gave her some money. I think the money is generally given to kids when they are young. They are also given sweets since the name of this Bayram is called Sheker Bayrami or "sugar bayram".

We then all feasted on the most delicous breakfast I've had in a while. Olives, jelly, toast, 2 kinds of cheese, sausages, eggs, borek, and tea. Mmmmm, I'm getting hungry just thinking about it. It was really cool to experience this with a family, as I felt this meal was as important as Chritstmas dinner is to Christians.

After breakfast, half the family packed themselves into a small car with my luggage and whizzed me off to the bus stop. Next stop, Nevshehir in Cappadocia. Woo hoo!

But next time, I'll write a bit more about the mystic Sufis. Promise.

Empty Promises

2004-11-20T08:52:00.000-08:00

What a day!

I was mildly unprepared for classes today, but I managed to pull through. First, I stood in for one of the other teachers who has been stuck in Istanbul for the last week and half because there are no flights out of there. She wanted to make it to the southeast part of Turkey to visit her family for Bayram, but never made it. Everyone travels during Bayram, and the flights have been booked solid. Second, I left all my books and lessons plans at home so I had to make a mad dash at the last minute. Thankfully I live near the school. Phew!

Then after all my lessons were over, Emma tells me that someone from English First wants to rent one of us teachers for about a week. There is a university in or near Gumushane (Goomoush-ha-nay) that had to let a teacher go, and the replacement is coming from Georgia. It's not far away, but I guess the replacement has to square things away there first. John turned down the opportunity, so guess who is the lucky star? I've pretty much decided that I'll go. I would teach an elementary course, so it wouldn't be too difficult. Plus, I like being thrown into things sometimes. So you may not hear from me for a week or so. It depends on how much time I have.

So, in order to fulfill the title of this entry, you may not see photos from Cappadocia for a while, as I promised yesterday. I'll probably be leaving tomorrow night!

Ah, I'm enjoying traveling around.

Trabzon to Konya

2004-11-18T03:35:00.000-08:00

Neslihan had helped me buy my ticket the previous day, and since I didn't want to risk any chance of missing the bus I made sure to pack early. A couple hours before I was scheduled to leave, I called her up to ask her some silly question or other, and she immediately invited me over to her place. Since her apartment is closer to the bus depot than mine, I agreed and lugged my bags over there. As Turks do, Neslihan and her mother showered me with all kinds of things for the long journey: borek, little sweet rolls, biscuits, tangerines, chocolate, potato salad, water, phone numbers of friends, and even Neslihan's cell phone! With all this I boarded the bus feeling a bit like a donkey, but grateful nonetheless.

As I settled into my aisle seat in the center of the bus, I thought about how I would entertain myself during the next 13 hours. Since this was a night bus, about eight would be filled with sleep. I was thinking I could read some of my book, but I didn't think that for long. Turns out I was a very lucky girl because the woman sitting next to me spoke English. She's a literature teacher at a high school in Trabzon, and must teach in English sometimes. We hit it off really well and exchanged phone numbers with plans to hang out after Bayram. Woo hoo!

At some point we dozed off and were awoken at midnight. The bus was stopping for half an hour so we had time to eat some warm food. The terminal was very fancy, with lovely artwork, waiters dressed in burgundy vests with gold trim, and even a sultan looking character to greet you at the door. An enormous cafeteria served everything: toast, soup, salad, main dishes, and desserts. In the center of the room was a small wooden terrace with luxurious material hanging on all sides. Inside were comfortable seats arranged around several Nargile pipes. Every now and then a man on the PA system would announce which bus was leaving. When ours was called, Canan (Jah-nahn) motioned for us to go. Then we climbed back on the bus, talked for a bit and fell asleep again. Eight hours later, we arrived in Ankara.

When I got off the bus, my atrophied muscles ached in a way I never experienced before. Walking never felt so good!

Neslihan's friend, Tashkin, met me as I disembarked and took me to another terminal just down the street. He made sure I got on the right bus, gave me my ticket, I have him a bag of hazelnuts and off I went.

The ride to Konya was uneventful. I wasn't as lucky as the first bus ride as I sat next to a girl who didn't speak any English and answered all my questions in complicated Turkish. So we didn't talk much. Shortly after noon, I arrived in Konya, hungry, thirsty, and having to desperately use the bathroom. (Since it was still Ramazan, I hardly touched the food and drink Neslihan and her mother gave me. I felt bad eating in front of people.)

Emine Hanim* (Em-me-neh Ha-nim) picked me up and we whizzed over to her beautiful 6 room apartment. She doesn't speak English, so my Turkish comprehension was being tested. She asked me how my trip was, if I had a plan for the rest of my holiday, why I came to Turkey, and about my family. I asked her questions about her as well. She's a dashkent in archeology and art history at Selchuk University, has two children, Selvinur (girl, 16) and Selchuk (boy, 10), and is married to Hashim Bey* (Ha-shim Bay), an archeology professor at the same university. This was the beginning of my 6 day Turkish lesson. After a quick bite to eat, we went over to the Mevlana Museum.

Who is Mevlana? Mevlana Celadleddin Rumi was a Sufi mystic, poet and philosopher prominent in the 1300s. He advocated tolerance, charity, goodness, and positive reasoning through love, and started the Mevlevi sect of Islam. A radio announcer back in the States has called the Mevlevies the "Unitarians of the Muslim world." In fact, I think it's the other way way around; the Unitarians are the Mevlevi's of the Christian world, but I guess it doesn't really matter since the message is the same.

One of the Unitarian hymns is based on one of Mevlana's writings.

Come, come again, whoever you are, come!
Heathen, fire worshipper or idolatrous, come!
Come even if you broke your penitence a hundred times,
Ours is the portal of hope, come as you are.

For the rest of the week, I was singing the adapted version I know:

Come, come, whoever you are
Wanderer, worshiper, lover of leaving
Ours is no caravan of despair
Come, yet again, come

The tomb itself was amazing. Sufi music was playing softly on the loudspeakers and people were murmuring prayers all around his resting area. Large calligraphy decorated the walls, while various artifacts were on display in the center of the room. I felt a sort of comfort I never felt in churches. This was a holy place where I could appreciate the beauty of everyone and everything around me without feeling like guilty about having human faults.

After I got back to Trabzon, Neslihan and her mother told me that Mevlana's father asked not to buried next to his son because he felt his son to be too great to be buried next to an ordinary man. He was buried next to Mevlana anyway, and apparently his father's body has risen a few degrees on the torso end, in order to get up and lay somewhere else. I'll check this out next time I go there.

Old copies of the Koran were also on display.

The Koran is so beautifully decorated! Even free copies have exquisite artwork inside. Some people sell itty-bitty Korans in an itty-bitty leather pouch so one can keep it near their heart.

There were several domes, but here are just a couple.

Can you imagine how many hours it must have taken to paint those patterns? And all in the name of love.

Well, friends. I have many more photos of Konya, but I'll show them to you in the next couple weeks. I have uploaded my monthly limit for now.

I still have several more photos to show you however. After the weekend I'll show you some of Cappadocia! Ah, I know you're impatient to see that wonderful place, so here's a sneak preview of some fairy chimneys.

I love you all.

*In Turkish, one refers to older individuals as Hanim (Ms) and Bey (Mr) after their names as a sign of respect. Neslihan's mother insists I call her Fadime Teyze, or Aunt Fadime.

Introduction to my Cappadocia Travels

2004-11-17T07:38:00.000-08:00

Wow, so much happened in a week, that I can't possibly tell you everything all at once. I'd be sitting here for a two days straight! From the 30+ hours I spent on buses, new friends in Konya, fellow hotel guests, and Turkish musicians, my travels were sometimes unbelievably strange and other times simply exhausting.

I now see Trabzon as a bit less exciting, but I'm glad to be back. Sometimes excitement is overwhelming. In any case, I hope that as you read about my adventures, you laugh and you cry with me as the stories unfold.

Oh, as always, ask me questions! I love hearing from everyone.

From Cappadocia

2004-11-16T06:23:00.000-08:00

Hello, Darlings!

I have a couple hours before my bus leaves, so I thought I'd let you all know that I have had an oustanding time here. My Turkish is getting a lot better; I'm now able to conversate with shopkeepers without many problems understanding. I have also successfully bargained with some things. Yeah!

Now I have a 14 hour bus ride to look forward to. Lucky me!

Bayram (bye-rahm)

2004-11-09T13:05:00.000-08:00

Tomorrow is my last day of work for 9 days!

Ramazan is ending soon and there is a three day holiday to celebrate. Three days plus nothing doesn't equal nine, so how am I so lucky? The three days fall on Sunday, Monday, and Tuesday, which happens to be right in the middle of my work week. The weekend classes won't come for just one day, and the week classes won't come for one day either, so classes have been cancelled for Sunday and Wednesday. My weekend is Thursday and Friday. Added all up, it's this Thursday to next Friday. Yeehaw!

Last Friday, my student (and now friend) Neslihan, had me over for dinner again (photos coming). We had a great time! I told her that I'm planning on going to Cappadochia for Bayram and she gave me the phone number of a couple in a city a couple hours away, Konya. These friends have friends in Nevshehir, which is the biggest city near Cappadochia! Tomorrow she's taking me to the bus agency so I can get my bus ticket. Yeah! Yeah! Yeah!

I've been feeling a bit cooped up here in Trabzon. It's quite small compared to Istanbul, but at times I feel a bit cooped up because it's much more crowded than Madison. The streets are narrower, and the pollution smells different. I'm getting used to it, but open space will do me some good.

Also last Friday, I met a couple from Switzerland who rode their bikes here! It was great meeting them as we spoke German the whole time! They have a website which is in German, but check out their photograpghs. They have over 500! They are planning on going all the way to India cut back across Africa before heading home. They are avoiding the Arabian penninsula by taking a boat around it to get to Africa. I don't remember how they are getting to India though. All in all, they expect to be on the road for two years. Anyway, check it out. www.velocos.ch Monika and Robbie are really great photographers. Oh, "durch die Turkei" means "through Turkey".

Well, it's been an hour now since I started writing this post. See you after Bayram!

Oooooh, I'm so angry!

2004-11-07T06:04:00.000-08:00

Along with everyone else in the world, I'm hella pissed off about this election. I was just on the indy media website (the call it the sElection) and guess what I found? News from my good ol' alma mater, Beloit College.

Beloit President Supports Students Against Challenges to Voting

Megan Roche, 02.11.2004 12:48

A Republican lawyer challenged Beloit College students'
registrations, and Beloit's president came with a notarized
list of students and laywers to support the voters.

This just in from LPOV-Beloit! This morning in Beloit, WI a
lawyer for the Republicans was challenging Beloit College
students saying that they could not register same day with
their Beloit student IDs. The Beloit college president came
down to the polls with a notarized list of the students and
lawyers to fight for the students' right to vote!! Now students
are witnessing registrations, the lines are out the door as they
have been since 8 am this morning and the majority of those in
line are college students who are signed up or signing up for
our SLATE!!!

Rock it Beloit!!

Also, check out this website for more information on how electronic voting machines changed people's ballots without leaving a paper trail. How can this be legal? Are there protests all over the place in the US? It's not in the news at all. What's going on?

http://portland.indymedia.org/en/2004/11/302237.shtml

Here is something else I found:

Electric voting machines in a precinct in Columbus Ohio gave
George W. Bush 3,893 votes while giving John Kerry 260. Yet
only 638 ballots were cast. This is according to Matthew Damschroder,
director of the Franklin County Board of Elections.

What is happening? Are we living in medieval times? Someone said that Jeb is thinking of running for president next? If this continues, we'll never have a voice in who runs the nation again! Oh, I wish I was home now so I could do something! Wait, I can do something from Turkey. I'm going to write a letter to the guy who stole our election yet again. He's cunning, but he's not that clever. I almost feel like writing a letter isn't enough. Perhaps we can convince our representatives to impeach the man.

Oh, but I just thought of something else.

If he can get away with rigging the presidential election, who's to say he can't rig the votes for other elected officials? That would explain why the Republican party is the majority in Washington now. Oh, my anger has plummeted to despair.

The elections have depressed me

2004-11-06T11:26:00.000-08:00

Many of my students are asking me, "Why did Bush win?" Why, indeed. I just tell them Fox News is to blame. Thanks Rupert Murdoch.

Kyle sent me this letter from some guy in Britain. I almost cried when I read it.

The neo-conservative administration got another 4 years,
but with worldwide dissent. They won the electoral
campaign playing Americans' fears, insecurities, and
ignorance like a finely tuned instrument.

They took the opportunity to manufacture public dissent
for corporate imperial war in Iraq. They blatantly lied that
Iraq had connection to the World Trade Center destruction,
in furthurance of their agenda of U.S. military/corporate
enforcement and domination throughout earth--Project for
a New American Century.

They sent American young people to fight, die, kill, and
maim in corporate imperial war. Iraq's citizens once
again live in a U.S. corporate war zone that is their home
and community.

Few have died compared to the millions in Viet Nam and
SE Asia, which somehow never fully woke up American
people to the harsh and unjust realities of global militarism.

Thank the skilled use of propaganda broadcast via corporate
controlled media, and television boxes willingly turned on to
pollute minds and communities.

They lie and lie. They live in a glass house. False Christian
leaders playing on the ignorance and fear. Keep the pressure
on. Power based on fear and ignores should not last, if we
have anything to do about it.
Dear America,I know that about half of your population is
waking up this morning to the awful and disgusting reality
of a second term of the Bush administration. It's okay to cry.
It shows you care. It's okay to be angry too.The rest of the
world hasn't given up on you. We, the Brits, still love you at
least; we love your crazy mispronunciations of our language,
your Wild West style gun laws and inhumanly sized portions in
your restaurants. You're still our brothers and sisters and
we're here with a hug to say, "it's all going to be okay." We,
after all, lived through Margaret Thatcher. We too are
political casualties. I just wanted to share a few words; to
extend the olive-branch of friendship and compassion to those
of you who got off your arses, or at least sat up, and took an
interest in politics this time around. I understand your previous
apathy, but don't be disheartened by this loss. Don't give up hope.
There are many great positives you can take from this. Just hear
me out. Your will and determination to rally against Bush took
a relatively obscure, though pleasant enough, candidate and
turned him into a contender. It looked hopeless at one stage,
but you guys pumped him uplike the frickin' Hulkster! It went
to the wire and, for that, you should pat yourselves on the back.
In a campaigning atmosphere that played so cruelly and
under-headedly on people's most basic ignorances and fears,
neither candidate was going to emerge unscathed. As it turned
out, Bush was willing to get dirtier than anyone could have
expected and actually went as far as to SCARE people into
voting for him. You know that something had gone awfully
wrong when swathes of the population were adamant that
a vote for Bush was a vote for Jesus; you'd think they were
voting to dissuade the apocalypse itself! Not you, the
Democrats, or Kerry, could compete in the face of such
vitriolic ignorance. By appointing Bush you have, by happy
co-incidence, united Europe. Europe has never agreed on
anything! However, overwhelmingly Bush is hated over
here--even our Conservatives dislike the guy! The man
has united us over these past few years as a force against
the damaging foreign policy of his administration. We,
combined with non-violent political dissent from you, can
strongly hold him to account. We can make a positive
difference. And we will, because, these past few years,
many of us realized just how much we care about the
world and about other people. The humanitarian,
environmentalists and progressives in many of us were
awoken in a profound and amazing way. Suddenly we
really cared. We were starting arguments with people
all over the place, holding politicians to account because
of a profound belief in our hearts that we were DOING
THE RIGHT THING. Don't let this be the high-water
mark of political activism. For those of you who just
cannot bare it anymore then you should claim political
asylum and move to the UK. I have a spare room here
in Brighton which is available.

Peace and love.

When Bush was campaigning the first time 'round, I remember hearing on NPR that Nixon actually appointed some Supreme Court Justices who voted for Roe vs Wade. While I believe we are much greater danger now than during Nixon's time, maybe more people will be motivatied now to work for change and that some good will come of this.

G'night folks.

The rush before Iftar

2004-11-02T11:29:00.000-08:00

Wanting to stretch my legs, I went for a walk about an hour before Iftar today. Down the hill to the sea was peaceful and refreshing. As I headed back to the city center (from now on known as Meydan), the atmosphere became a frenzy of people, cars, horns and lights. A man was yelling and selling apples from the back of his truck, people crowding around him to get their apples first. From the bakery, a crowd spilled onto the street as people waited to get bread hot out of the oven.

Throngs of people waited at choice intersections for dolmushes and buses to take them to their destination. Some men carried packages of food wrapped in paper while others bore large steaming pots on their shoulders. At the restaurants, tables were set with multiple place settings with baskets of bread. Inside, tables were packed with people.

Behind the counter, cooks ladled soup into bowls over stacks of plates full of salad, which the waiters brought to the patient customers who must wait until the sun sets before they can eat. Two doors down, a sweet shop was empty and without patrons, its shelves bursting with freshly baked goodies. Shopkeepers close up, leaving the lights on inside. Then in almost an instant, the streets are emptied. Everyone dissappears from the streets, save the lone dolmush here and there.

This is my favorite time. I can walk the streets without worry of being honked at or run over. Nobody looks at me and calls out random English or German words. Nobody says, "she's a tourist," or "heh, foreigner!" I am free, moving with ease through the narrow streets. I can step anywhere, left or right, forward or back. The wind blows the hair out of my face, my arms relax and swing at my sides. The space is wide open and I can breathe. Aah. . .

Photos galore, baby

2004-11-01T13:02:00.000-08:00

This here is the entry way to the spice market. I still feel a bit shy taking out my camera, so I promise to put more photos up later.

Here is Muzafer, the pastry shop owner. He's always excited to see me. Last night he gave me figs!

Light sculpture near Meydan Park.

This is the market at the bottom of my hill where I buy all my produce. These guys are teaching me all the Turkish words for food. For instance, the Turkish word for pear is armut.

These are incir (in-jihr). Dried figs just don't compare.

I wish everyone knew about this!

2004-11-01T11:14:00.000-08:00

Look what I found by accident.

http://alterx.blogspot.com/

Pass this around to all your Republican friends. Along with everyone else, I'm getting anxious. I'm sure I would be feeling worse if I was actually in the States right now. From what I hear, the media situation is worse than a nightmare.

Turkey's Independence Day

2004-10-29T10:34:00.000-07:00

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

2004-10-28T03:59:00.000-07:00

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

2004-10-28T03:12:00.000-07:00

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!

2004-10-26T13:19:00.000-07:00

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

2004-10-26T13:18:00.000-07:00

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

2004-10-22T06:25:00.000-07:00

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

2004-10-20T12:03:00.000-07:00

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

I'm gonna join the gym!

I felt loved today!

2004-10-20T11:21:00.000-07:00

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

2004-10-17T10:07:00.000-07:00

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

2004-10-16T10:50:00.000-07:00

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

2004-10-14T11:48:00.000-07:00

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.

2004-10-12T12:00:00.000-07:00

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

2004-10-10T11:30:00.000-07:00

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

2004-10-10T09:57:00.000-07:00

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

2004-10-09T11:00:00.000-07:00

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!

2004-10-05T11:43:00.000-07:00

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

2004-10-03T08:20:00.000-07:00

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!

2004-10-02T02:00:00.000-07:00

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

2004-10-01T09:27:00.000-07:00

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

2004-10-01T09:12:00.000-07:00

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!

2004-10-01T03:14:00.001-07:00

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.

Maybe I'm teaching this weekend

2004-09-29T11:44:00.001-07:00

After planning out a month worth of lessons for the beginning class (course one), Emma had me start planning for course three. This was a major challenge for several reasons. Firstly, I don't know exactly how much the students know (although if I was a bit smarter about it, I would consult the syllabus she gave me on my third day here). Second, I don't know how difficult certain things will be for the students. There are a few other things, but every time I have a question, Emma is really helpful. I don't think I could have landed in a better place.

I'll find out on Friday if I will start teaching or not. Apparently students are still enrolling and they need more students to make a class.

So tomorrow is the first day of my weekend. Guess what I'm going to do? Every woman's favorite thing: shop for a bra. Back in the states, I boycotted them. A few studies have shown that women who wear bras have a higher risk of developing breast cancer, and the risk goes up the more you wear them. So for the last three years, I haven't worn one. I reluctantly bought three sports bras before leaving Madison, but I'm finding that blouses here don't fit properly even with one of those things strapping my boobs down. The clothes are cut in feminine way. In fact, many of the manequines have lovely breasts indeed, so much so that it looks they aren't wearing bras. I really need more than five tops, so I will succumb and by a stupid bra or two (or three or four). I'm glad that I don't have to wash them. There isn't a washing machine in my apartment building so I haul all soiled clothes down the hill to a laudromat. This isn't like an American one, though. You drop your clothes off and they'll wash and iron everything for you, even your underwear gets ironed.

Is there anything you want to hear about in particular? Leave a comment to let me know, K?

Deep Thought of the Day

2004-09-27T11:13:00.001-07:00

It's amazing how much one has to adapt when something as simple as verbal language is taken away from them. In the last week or so, I've noticed that it's quite easy to listen to my intuition. I would never have noticed this in the States, because there are too many distractions. Here, I don't have a choice. It's a matter of survival.

For instance, this morning I was walking around one of the many busy streets in this city, and as I sometimes tend to space out when crossing the street, I walked right in front of a car. If it hadn't been for my intuition, I wouldn't have looked and seen this car about to hit me. As it was, I did look and got out of the way and survived to make it to this computer where I am now typing. For some reason, without the ablility to communicate complex thoughts to just anyone, I can now tell the difference between my intuition telling me something is a good or bad idea, my desire telling me I really want something, and if I'm worrying unneccessarily about something.

Shopkeepers and Turkish food

2004-09-27T11:13:00.000-07:00

Last night I made granola at Emma's house and it tasted soooo good this morning. (Hint for care package idea here. Maple syrup, unavailable here, is my favorite.)

I spent a majority of the day planning lessons, but I managed to get a fair amount of walking in as well. The Turks have an amazing ability to built seemingly random streets that somehow connect to each other. Keeping my sense of direction has been challenging, but I have one thing working for me: the mountains. Down a hill is always north. Even so, when the area is relatively flat, finding a direction is near impossible due to all the buildings sqeezed into small areas. Even though Trabzon has only 50,000 more people than Madison, it feels like a much bigger city. Traffic is always busy, shops are always packed, and city noise is constant. The only exception is Sunday, when about half the shopkeepers take the day off. An interesting thing about shopkeepers, they often be seen hanging out in the doorway of their shop, sweeping or mopping the walk in front, or sitting somewhere relatively close by outside. I have developed good relationships with a couple shopkeepers here, even though I hardly speak Turkish. The place where I buy my beloved baklava (and her cousins) is called Ren. Muzafer is the owner and has pledged to me that he will sign up for English classes where I teach. I buy room tempertature water every day at a shop next to the school, and it is there where the shopkeeper taught me the words for cold, warm, and hot. I want to make friends with two girls who work at another pastry shop who wear pink blouses and pink hats and serve you whatever delicacy you pick out. On my fourth day here, I went there and as I was deciding what pastry I wanted, they giggled and smiled in my direction. Huddled close together, I could tell they were talking about me. One girl said to me, "very beautiful!" and pointed to my nose ring. Every time since then, I have not seen them.

Walking around Trabzon, I have met many shopkeepers. They are all very understanding and patient when I try to speak Turkish with them. In fact, many of them are eager to speak English with me, so our conversations end up being formed of broken language bits on both sides. It's quite fun!

Yesterday I had lunch at a place the made only pide, and I got to watch the guy make it. "What's that?" you may ask. Allow me to enlighten you. (wink) It's a bit of yeast dough padded out into an oval shape. (The guy I saw didn't use a rolling pin. He hit it and padded it with his fingers.) Then one of several menu items can be scooped on it and spread out: cheese, bits of meat with tomato, sheep cheese, fish with peppers and tomatoes, or other combinations of other things. Then the sides are folded up (the cheese ones are closed entirely), eggs painted on the dough part, and put into an old bakers oven that all the bread companies put on their label when you know they don't do it that way anymore. You know the kind I speak of, where the item to be baked is put on a wooden paddle and inserted into a brick oven. There the pides bake for about 10 minutes or so and are taken out. The extra flour is dusted off with a little broom, and then the pide receives a generous dollap of homemade butter, and served. I didn't know which one to order (I couldn't understand the menu) so I took the waiter's reccommendation: pide with small bits of beef with tomatoes and peppers. It was yummy.

Have I failed to mention that I am not pretending to be vegetarian here? Last time I came to Turkey, I nearly made myself crazy trying to cling to American ideals of diet and politics. The Turks are much more connected to their food than most of the people in the US, so the meat tastes unbelievably heavenly. That said, I still have trouble convincing my brain (and sometimes my body) that eating meat is okay.

Oh! I forgot to tell you about the "surprise" the school had for John and me. It was a BBQ, as Emma let slip out, but rather than lots of people that I had expected to be there, it was just the school staff and their spouses. It was lovely, really. We had barbequed horse mackere and regular mackerel. (Horse mackerel is half the size of regular mackerel.) It tasted really good, but I had to eat slowly because of all the tiny bones. Those things can seriously cut up your gums, as I found out when I got a bone stuck in my thumb! We ate on the roof of the school, from where we can see the Black Sea and the sunset. Aaaah. For the next 12 hours, however, my fingers smelled like fish no matter how much I washed them.

Trabzon in the morning and Aya Sofia

2004-09-24T11:52:00.000-07:00

The last three mornings I have been exploring differnt pockets of the seaside city. This morning I did less walking around than the other two mornings simply because I woke up at 5 am, even before the call the prayer sounded. Since sleep was beyond any realm of possiblity, I decided to watch the sunrise.

These give you an idea of what Trabzon looks like.

If you look closely, you can see lots of clothes hanging out to dry. Nobody here owns a dryer. I wonder what they do in the winter.

Later this afternoon, Emma took John and I to the Aya Sofia of Trabzon. It was, of course, much smaller than the one in Istanbul, but none the less beautiful. It was built in the 1400s and was first a cathedral, then a mosque, at some point a military hospital, a mosque again, and then abandoned. Only recently has it been restored. Most of the frescoes have been scraped off, but some remained. What is still visible is breathtaking.

Next to the museum was a tea garden in which we ate the most delicious food. Here is a Trabzon specialty, kuymak. Only three ingredients are needed to make this custardy tasting dish: corn flour, butter, and cheese. It is served warm and has a smooth consistency to it. Contrary to how it looks, it is quite yummy.

Aya Sofia is almost on the shore. In fact, it used to be right on the shore. The Black Sea has changed the coastline dramatically in even the few years that Emma has been here (about 4). Somebody recently had the brilliant idea to take chunks of nearby mountains and re-extend the shoreline and they are now attempting to build a highway that goes all along the Black Sea coast. The road has faced strong opposition from many fronts, geologists and locals alike. I’m not sure why they are contiuning with the project as the road is very highly likely to be washed away. Even so, construction is taking place with hopes of connecting a highway from İstanbul to Armenia.

You can’t see it in the photo, but there are sheep grazing underneath the bridge.

Sorry if some of the photos are too big in the post. Some of them I felt had to be larger so you could see the details better. Enjoy!

Sümela Monastery

2004-09-24T11:24:00.000-07:00

Ok, folks, here are the pictures of Sümela that I promised, and more.

I saw this about halfway up the mountain, which was quite a hike. Not only was part of the path under construction with no real detour, it was rocky most of the way up with a solid dirt path on the inner side. This wasn't a problem until we came down as the packed earth didn't offer much in the way of traction.

This was the first view after paying the entry fee and climbing a hell of a lot of steps.

Restoration work has only recently begun, so visitors are not allowed in about half of the monastery. Many of the frescoes that are within arms length have been vandalized as the place sat unattended for a period of time after World War II. Now, however, the attendants are strict about using flash photography. I accidently got this photo of the frescoes inside the church (which is partly carved out of the mountain) because I forgot to turn off my flash. Oopsie!

The pock marks near the bottom of the picture are not vandalism. Notice the grey line under the people; that is the plaster in which the paintings are on, which is about an inch thick. The old frescoes were redone at some point, and in order to get them to stay on the wall, the artisans made pock marks for the plaster to grasp on to. In some places in the church, all you see is old frescoes with lots of pock marks.

Regarding all the rest of the interior, many of the paintings seemed to have some things in common, like the number eleven. Not sure why that is. Anyone have any insights? (Princess of Power?)

Here you can see how cozy the church is up against the mountain.

These are on the outside of the church. Again, the faces are scratched out because the Islamic faith prohibits worshipping anything that is meant to represent a holy figure. You'll notice in the pictures of the Blue Mosque (Sultanahmet Camii) that there are no religous figures. (see previous post)

Clouds were coming in, so we quickly made our way to the top of the adjacent mountain so I could get this photo.

Then I went home and slept a bunch. Climbing the mountain was hard work!

Teacher, teacher

2004-09-22T11:35:00.000-07:00

Three days of lesson planning down! While it's still slow-going, I am feeling better about the whole thing. Last night I was beginning to feel a bit down, like I'll never make it through the first week. So I made up my mind to go on a long walk in the morning.

It did me a world of good! So friends, I reccommend throwing all your cares into your feet and start moving your body. If you can get to water, do so. Just looking at vast open areas of water has a calming effect (affect? effect? Oh my word, I'm supposed to be an English teacher and I don't know which one to use!) on the mind. Today I my stamina for planning and concentrating was much better. Also, reading all the lovely comments you all have written makes me so happy. I feel so loved!

Tomorrow night there is a surprise event planned for John and I. Well, it's not much of a surprise if we know about it, but apparently it's a BBQ where there will be a lot of people that are excited to meet us. I hear that they are especially interested in speaking with me because word got out that I'm not a fan of Bush. When I first got here, Emma confided to me that she wanted to have an American teacher on staff because many of the students have this misconception that all Americans like the man. She warned me that I should be prepared to answer questions about the political situation in the States. I was a bit surprised (and pleased) when she told me this, because I wasn't sure how much politics I would be able to be able to talk about. Not that I have that as an agenda, but I was thinking about it when I was thinking about which books I would be able to present in the classroom. Now I wish I had bought that book titled Bushisms by somebody or other.

Until next time, folks!

Planning lessons lead me to this

2004-09-20T11:59:00.000-07:00

In order to practice numbers, I thought it would be funny to give out the Simpsons phone number. Imagine my surprise when I found this website.

http://simpsonscollege.tvheaven.com/index.html

To kick yourself in the pants, click on S.A.T.

First day of work

2004-09-20T11:26:00.000-07:00

I'm not teaching yet, but I've started planning lessons. Oh. My. Word. It's a lot more difficult than one might imagine. At least at first. Today John and I sat for about 5 or 6 hours planning three hours! I am pleased with what I planned, but man! did it take a while. I don't know exactly when I'll start teaching. The university students started today (most of our clientele) and they haven't figured out their schedules just yet. I sat in a class on the weekend and most of the students are extremely shy. Emma said they are scared to talk to us because they don't know us. She also revealed that they're even more hesitant to speak to John because he looks so much more professional. He's very smartly dressed and carries an attache case. I also think the fact that he's so much older than them is intimidating. In the class we observed together we played charades and he had to act like a monkey. Hopefully this gave the impression to the students that he is playful.

Yesterday Emma and her husband, Enis (like 'Dennis' without the 'd'), took us up to Sumela. It was up in the mountains about a 45 minute drive away. It's the oldest place that I've ever been to, built in the 4th century. It was way cool. I took some photos, but haven't had a chance to upload them yet. In the meantime, go to http://www.anatolia.luwo.be/index.htm?Sumela.htm&1 and check it out.

In other news, I'm reading a book by an American author who has defected to England: A Short History of Nearly Everything by Bill Bryson. He's really funny and down-to-earth. In this book he talks mostly about the recent history of astronomy, geography, paleontology, and chemistry to name a few. I'd like to get my hands on The Mother Tongue but at the moment it's impossible. In that book he talks about the differences between British and American English. This is of great interest to me since I'll be teaching the former, even though I know nothing about it. So if anyone wants to volunteer to be my mailing address and then forward ordered books to Turkey for me, please tell me! I learned that if I order books on the Internet, they won't ship them to Turkey. Why? I'm not really sure. It's a bummer though.

Well, that's all for tonight. Iyi akshamlar!

Shopping in Trabzon

2004-09-18T08:58:00.000-07:00

I just got done with a zip-ah-dee-doo-dah shopping spree. I needed some things and Emma knew where to get them, so we did it quick and efficient like. Things are so incredibly cheap here that I didn't hesitate to buy a brand new pair of pants for $8, a few new shirts (brand name) for $10, a new purse for $20, some hair thingees for a few dollars, and a new pair of locally hand made leather shoes for $40. Pretty cheap! There is this one store that sells brands like Gap, Tommy Hilfiger and stuff for dirt cheap. Sometimes the clothes have tags that say $58, but there is some tiny thing wrong with it so the item never made it to the states. It's ridiculous.

I'm in Trabzon!

2004-09-18T08:25:00.000-07:00

So as I already mentioned, it was difficult to sleep on the plane because I had a view of the coast pretty much the whole time. It looked just like all the maps I had been pouring over for months! No pictures cuz y'all misbehavin and not posting any comments. (wink wink) I tried to take a picture, but it just came out as a blue haze. I do have a photo of the view from my balcony in my new apartment!

The little building to the right (and two unseen others on the left) used to belong to the forest managers way back when. Trabzon used to be much smaller. It's pretty hilly here because the mountains go all the way to the water. In fact, the hill that I have to walk up in order to get home is so steep that as soon as I walk in the living room the back of my legs ache. Stretching is a must! Gone are my worries about getting enough exercise.

I live with one other teacher, John, from Ireland. He's in his early fifties and just got back from a year in Saudi Arabia. The culture there was much more strict than it is here, so much so that he was surprised last night to see a group of women in a cafe without a man with them. Also in Saudi Arabia, the religious police make sure everyone is praying when they are supposed to. He has expressed some relief that the Turks are much more laid back.

Oh! One other thing for all of you worrying about earthquakes. Trabzon is not on a fault line, unlike the majority of the country, although it is possible to feel tremors from nearby. When I first got to Istanbul a few years ago, I had nightmares that a movie theatre would collaspe on me!

My job seems really laid back (although as far as teaching goes, I have a lot to learn). I have a feeling that once I get the hang of teaching that I'm going to have such a blast!

Istanbul: my first weekend

2004-09-14T09:44:00.000-07:00

Well, here I am, the place I've been thinking about since July.

It seems a bit like a dream sometimes. Other times I think to myself, "Holy smokes! I'm really here!"I've been keeping a journal of everything, but it would take a long time to write everything I've been doing, so I'll just summarize:

I almost missed my flight out of Chicago. Nevermind that I arrived three and a half hours early to the airport. Nevermind that I sat at the correct gate for two. My legs got tired of sitting so at 5:30 pm I decided to go for a walk. I walked for an hour, thinking that boarding time for the 6:55 flight wasn’t until 6:45. At 6:30 they announced the final boarding call over the airport PA system.

“That’s my flight!” It felt really good for my legs to run 10 gates, but I was the very last person to get on the plane. (As it turned out, I didn’t have to fight any crowds so it was much easier to find my seat and put my things away. I reccomend this technique to anyone boarding a plane.) The Indian security guard (I was flying with Air India) scolded me for being so absent minded. Once I found my seat and settled myself, the girl next to me said they had started boarding at 5:45. Man, my spacey brain almost cost me dearly. This flight only flies once a week!

As the plane wasn’t very crowded, I was able to snag a couple seats and sleep for about 3 hours. Then I had a layover in Frankfurt, which was mildly frustrating because I consider Germany my second home and I wasn’t able to leave the airport and enjoy it. For one, I had two bags and an instrument to lug around. Secondly, I left all my relatives phone numbers in Madison. I’m such a genius. So I spent my time hanging out in the gate that I was to leave from. No chance of me missing any flights this time! Nothing else to do but sleep.

Upon waking from a nap, I found myself talking with a group of retired professionals who were going to Bodrum (southern Turkey) for vacation. One gentleman, a retired professor from a Boston university (I think) began telling me about the Black Sea. Did you know that below a certain level, there is absolutely no oxygen in the Black Sea? I’m not sure yet as to why this is, but it has something to do with the sulfate level. As a result there are lots of ships at the bottom that aren’t rotting because there isn’t any bacteria. Since arriving in Trabzon I’ve seen a few signs advertising scuba diving lessons, but my Turkish isn’t good enough for that yet. There are three courses I want to take while I’m here: Turkish, the saz, and scuba diving. First things first. I have to earn money.

By the time I got on the plane to Istanbul, it was Friday afternoon. Next to me sat a retired school teacher who was very inspiring to talk with. It was great to see a school teacher who was still enjoying life. Teachers especially are prone to burning out at some point during their careers for numerous reasons. (One of my friends actually is studying, or planning on studying, this very topic.) While I didn’t have an opportunity to ask her about how she felt towards the end of her career, I got the feeling that she probably still enjoyed certain acspects of teaching. This was just another affirmation that I am on a path that will bring me inner joy. (Note to Krishna: If I’m wrong about this, let me know!) I got into Istanbul on Friday night and Bahadir, an old friend from my college days, picked me up from the airport. My luggage was lost, but for some reason it didn't bother me much. We hopped in his car and began zooming through the chaotic streets of the city. Even though he drives a bit like a madman, I tried imagine the Turkish driving style as a river rushing down the mountain, smoothly dodging obstacles and still moving. Two hours later we arrived at his apartment and I met his lovely wife, Neslihan.

She was so sweet to make dinner without garlic for me at the last minute and I hardly ate any of it. I later learned that this was a little rude as she had taken the time to make something for me to eat (and in a hurry no less). Next time I will do better at stuffing myself as my stomach will be able to handle more food. I wasn't scheduled to fly out to Trabzon until Monday, so I spent the majority of the weekend with Bahadir and Neslihan, who went all out to make sure that I enjoyed myself. Saturday Bahadir and I went for a walk by the water which felt good after sitting for 24 hours.

When we got back to his house he called the airline to find out what happened to my luggage, but after hanging up his face was grim. He reported that my bags wouldn't come for 5 days as they were on their way to Malaysia! Great. I had no clothes! No underwear! How was I going to get my bags to Trabzon?? Oh, this was wonderful indeed. Then Bahadir began to chuckle.

"I'm just joking, Nicole. They'll be here this morning." Phew!

After my luggage was delivered, we drove to the royal section of Istanbul where I met Nelsihan’s mother and sister. Neslihan’s mother was especially fond of me for some reason, even though I didn’t say anything. She didn’t speak any English, but I think she told me to be sure that I came back for another visit

Then Bahadir and I went to Eminönü,* the toursist district. We ran some errands then went to a Nargile place. This a cafe type place where one can smoke fruit flavored tobacco from a hookah.

The whole place smelled of apples and was quite lovely. I gave it a try and it even tasted like apples! I'm not sure why I didn't smoke some more. At the nargile cafe I met one of Bahadir's friends, Oğuzhan (Oguzhan-the "g" is silent). He is a freelance tour guide and is an expert on the history of Turkey and art. He invited me to join a tour he was giving in the morning. So the next day we all got up early to meet him at the ferry station I used to frequent seven years ago.
A few hours later I found myself touring around with a bunch of Bulgarians who didn’t speak very much English. Oguzhan would elaborate in English and one of the older gentlemen would translate for the group. First stop: Topkapı Palace. This place is worth a whole day and we had to breeze through it in less than two hours. My jet lag was beginning to kick in so I don’t remember many of the historical details of the place. The jewels were fantasticly beautiful to see and the religious relics were pretty awesome. As a non-Muslim person, I admit it was a little strange to see hairs of the prophet Mohammad preserved, but one must remember that Mohammed was the founder of Islam. Allah revealed the whole Koran to him, and he is considered the most holy man of the Islamic faith.

Next stop was the Hagia Sophia, the oldest building I have ever been in. Originally built in 532 as a cathedral by Emperor Justinian, the dome collapsed in 563 by an earthquake. It was then rebuilt with a higher dome and other adjustments were made to increase durability. The architechure of the church represented a revolutionary change in the way churches were built. A dome in the center supported by pillars and walls had never been done, and this is exactly why the first dome collapsed. In rebuilding the dome, arches were added in the form of two half domes on the sides of the center dome to add extra support with arches. Since the initial earthquake in 557, it has survived five major earthquakes.

It served as a Byzantium church until 1204 when Roman Catholic invaders from the Fourth Crusades pilaged the place. They ripped off all the intracit gold mosaics destroyed the chruch in other ways. (Just as a side note, I find it interesting that the Crusaders came and stole from their fellow Christians.) In 1453 the Sultan Mehmet took control of Constantinople and declared the Hagia Sophia his mosque. He left the remaining mosaics on the wall, stating that this is a holy place and they are holy images. Eventually plaster was put over the images (Islam does not allow the worship of representations of human likeness) in order to make the mosque useful for their purposes. It remained a mosque until 1935 when Mustafa Kemal Ataturk declared it a museum.

I found all of this wonderful. Walking around the building, I tried to imagine all the thousands of people who had passed here before me. Here is something someone wrote about this very idea.

“Where once potentates and patriarchs, prelates and priests, saints and sinners
moved in solemn procession, tourists now loiter and stare. The images
looking down from the walls are no longer the windows to heaven but silent
witnesses to the profanities of the Muslims and the vulgarities of the
tourist trade. Gone are the chanting priests; gone too are the smells and
bells of the East. No longer do the cherubim descend to accompany and to
praise the Holy Mysteries. The Great Church is little more than a mound of
architecturally ordered stones devoid of the life of liturgy. Away from the
rule of the heathen Turk, in other places where orthodox Christians may
gather one can still perceive imperfectly that vision of the splendor of
heaven unfolded in the Byzantine Divine Liturgy, for ours is truly a royal
worship, the prayer of kings.”

Next stop was Sultanahmet Camii (the Blue Mosque). It was of course beautiful and named after the traditional hand-made blue tiles of the Ottoman Empire.

Afterwards we went out to dinner with Oguzhan.

Later that evening I met up with Selim, another old friend. It was cool hanging out with him because he would say to me, “Do you remeber (insert name of place here)?” I would of course say no, and he would take me there. As we would approach the place, I would instantly remember being there before. In an email before coming back to Turkey, I asked him what he had been up to since we last talked and he said something about traveling around and going to the States. Not until we hung out did I realize to what extent that he traveled. He went as far as Moscow and almost all the places in between there and Turkey. He even went Iran! Talking with him made we want to skip out on work and just fulfill my wanderlust.

On the way back to Bahadir’s apartment I re-met Selim’s old roommate, Mehmet, and played with three little kittens that are growing up in is electricty-less apartment, and rode around in his red Beetle. It was a lovely time, but too short.

Bright and early (actually dark and early) Monday morning, Oguzhan picked me up from Bahadir's apartment at 6 am. Monday was the first day of school and he wanted to beat the crowds which get really bad in a city of 15 million. It ended up being worth it because I got to see the sun rise over the Bosphorus and get three history lessons from the man. I was really tired because I had only five hours of sleep. Anyway, I thought I would sleep on the plane but that was impossible because the Black Sea coast was visible the whole time.

This isn’t a very short summary, is it? Well, I like to tell stories, so I hope you are enjoying this. It certainly is a joy to write.

* There are a few extra letters in the Turkish alphabet that I'm not sure will show on computers in the States. Some of them are ş ("s" with a hook on the bottom), ç ("c" with a hook on the bottom), and ı ("i" without a dot). There are a couple vowels with umlauts, but I hope these show up.

Here I go!

2004-09-08T23:54:00.000-07:00

Here are some photos of the last few days.

First we'll start with my sister's 23rd birthday party and the best family photo ever! Well, almost best because Auntie Ingrid isn't in it. Boo.

The next day I said 'bye to my mom. Oh, why am I leaving her?

One last look at my Gramma's house.

After snagging a ride with Susie (sadly no photos of her loveliness), I hung out with Allison.

Now I have some blessed alone time.

The next time I post, I'll be in Turkey. Woo hoo!

How I made it to Chicago

2004-09-08T11:28:00.000-07:00

So last night I didn't finish my errands until 10 pm. Oi, veh! In the morning my mother promised to take me around so I could finish all three errands I had left over. After we stopped at Revolution Cycles (my all time favorite bike shop in the world), she insisted that we go to Star Photo before stopping at her house before going to the bus stop. Doodled around the photo place a bit, and as I finished paying, a voice hesitantly asked, "Nicole?" I look up and it's none other than my girl Susie. I had said good-bye to her the night before Kyle left for Ecuador! We excitedly and loudly embraced, both exclaiming that we were off for Chicago. So I skipped going to my mother's house and hopped in the car with Susie and her gang. How serendipitous!

Hung out with my Uncle Peter for dinner. Then we drove back to his place in his 1992 Mustang. Man! That car has some jump to it. Made me miss my brother.

One more night in the good ol' US.

It still feels like a dream.

Whaddya gonna do in Turkey?

2004-09-07T08:26:00.000-07:00

Boy, am I ignornat. I sent everyone my blog address without explaining why I'm going to Turkey. Sheesh, how rude. So here goes.

I've always wanted to be a teacher, ever since first grade when Mrs. Hogan did that thing, --uh, I can't remember exactly what she did that was so inspiring. All I knew was that she was cool and I wanted to be just like her. So after deciding that I wanted to travel to Turkey for an extended period of time, a few people suggested that I teach English. At first I was opposed to the idea, because isn't that sort of an imperialistic thing to do? I mean, everyone should speak English because Americans can't speak any other languages, right? (Ignore the fact that English is also spoken in Canada, Ireland, Scotland, England, India, Austrailia, and other places.) I read several arguements pro and con, and in the end thought that maybe it isn't such a bad idea after all. People want to learn English, otherwise there wouldn't be language schools all over the world looking for native English speakers. Did you know that more non-native speakers of English than there are native speakers? This language is really being used!

I love teaching people things, whether it be English, yoga, massage, or how to change the oil in your car (not very hard, try it if you don't know how). So I was convinced that it would be a good job for me. So last June I signed up at a training center in downtown Madison and learned the fine art of facilitating learning. It was a wonderful experience and I feel very prepared to enter the classroom in Turkey. As with any new skill, I could use more practice, but I'm sure I'll be fine.

Just a side note here: If anyone else is looking into teaching overseas, I highly reccommend the Midwest Teacher Training Program (http://www.mttp.com/). The instructors are amazing, supportive, and fun. They realize the program is intense, and add elements to break classroom monotony. This program is even good if you already have an education certificate. There were two teachers in my training session and they learned a lot from it as well. My only complaint is that there are few windows in the joint. Oh, and Dan is a bit obsessive about Jack Richards. Really, the instructors are inspiring and prepare you well for teaching in a foreign country.

So let me tell you what I know about Trabzon. It's 600 miles east of Istanbul, on the Black Sea coast (I must live near water), surrounded by mountains that I have heard have a thousand shades of green due to the amount of rain, and is the biggest city in the region (250,000). They have a soccer team, Trabzonspor, currently ranked number 1 in the nation. I'll be living with three other teachers in an apartment within walking distance from the school.

Let's see, did I leave anything out? I'll be there in a week! Holy smokes.

"All my bags are packed, I'm ready to go. I'm standing here outside your door, already I'm so lonesome I could die. "

I've been saying good-bye to people for the last 24 hours now. I have a few more friends and family to say good-bye to and then I'm off! Perhaps I'll post a photo or two before I make my final aufwiedersehen.

At Lula's in Chicago

2004-09-03T10:14:00.000-07:00

Hanging with Maddy
Originally uploaded by nicole jilbert.

Some of the people will I miss when I go to Turkey.

Aww, can you see hearts all over the place?

What is it about bicyclists?

2004-09-03T01:32:00.000-07:00

Talking with my sister the other day, she made a comment that a lot drivers get pissed off when a bicyclist approaches a red light, but goes right through if there is no cross traffic.

As a bicyclist and driver, I personally don’t see a problem with it.

Why? Lots of reasons. First, you don’t need a drivers license to ride bike. I think it’s unfair to expect bicycles to obey the same traffic laws that cars must obey. The laws were made because of cars, not bicycles. Cars have the ability to kill somebody. Riding my bike around, I have come to realize that the line is fuzzy as to how to classify this vehicle. I can be a “pedestrian” and ride my bike across the crosswalk or I can really be pedestrian and walk by bike across. With one swift swing of my leg I am a bicyclist again, going at least three times the speed of any walker. I can go where cars can’t: crosswalks (already mentioned), in between bushes or buildings, between cars during a stand still, around stopped trains on the track, through crowds of people, and even on the frozen lake. The flexibility offered me by my bike is so vast, that I wonder how people manage with the incontinences of their car every day. Parking, gas, insurance, rush-hour traffic.

Don’t get me wrong, I think cars a wonderful machines. You can haul heavy loads and go great distances in them. The problem I have with cars are two-fold: people rely on them too heavily and lose perspective of the greater good. It’s possible to do some amounts of grocery shopping on your bike. It’s a good workout physically and mentally. Physically, that’s obvious. Mentally, it encourages you to be more organized. If you shop on your bike, you will only buy what you need when you need it. Cars allow us to cram more stuff into our living spaces, causing cluttered homes and minds. Then we spend all our time cleaning our cluttered houses, less time with friends, losing contact with the outside world and becoming depressed, and losing perspective. Driving in a car, we are protected from outer dangers, other cars, street sales people, exhaust. We are also protected from smiles, respect, and (I know this sounds cheesy) love. The car has enabled us to move faster than any vehicle invented before, so we can make quicker deadlines, be some place “right away”, and get things done faster. As a result, our mind forgets that it takes some time to move from one place to the next and we become impatient. The other person is preventing us from getting to our destination and we become upset, and so I think that the person who gets mad at bicyclists going through red lights is jealous. Not because they want to ride a bike, but because the biker is moving and they are not.

So the next time you find yourself in that situation, I ask you to think: if you were a pedestrian, and there was no traffic coming, would you cross the street? The bicyclist is asking the same question.

What will I miss about Madison, Wisconsin?

2004-09-03T01:30:00.000-07:00

I am living in the moment more often lately, feeling the wind on my body as my bike pushes past cars, trees, and sidewalks. My poms tickle the underside of my forearms, almost making them itch. Going up a hill, sweat collects on my back, my breathing is deep and rhythmical, and my thighs are strong and aching. When I walk into my destination, still panting, I am aware that I probably smell of fresh BO. My favorite, though, is riding without a backpack, having my entire torso caressed by a breeze. On a humid night, such as last night, it is so refreshing, especially when I flew past the community garden plots. The air becomes a few degrees cooler, energizing my tired body and adding to the spicy food adrenaline rush that has kept me going for the past hour. I sometimes feel less like I'm riding a bike and more like I'm flying.

What else will I miss? So many things that it would be boring to list them all. Mostly though, I will miss randomly running to people I know, riding my bike, and watching the city grow. As I prepare to leave Madison, I know it will never be the same as it is now. Madison will change, as will I, bursting at the seams with conflict. Issues will come up, people will debate, things will happen. My hope is that change needn't mean disaster. As I enter a new country and a new job, my hope for myself is the same.

Just like when we were kids...

2004-08-31T13:04:00.000-07:00

Just like when we were kids...
Originally uploaded by nicole jilbert.

I love playing in the water! I wish Madison had fountains like this to play in. I had to go all the way to Iowa City to have this much fun.

Hanging with the family

2004-08-28T12:06:00.000-07:00

Clouds in central WI
Originally uploaded by nicole jilbert.

Just testing to see if this posts on my blog and not Kyle's.

I've been spending a good amount of time with my family and rather enjoying it. I seems weird to me that soon I won't be around them anymore.

back at gramma's house

2004-08-25T04:10:00.000-07:00

I saw a family friend today, and I do believe I'm getting tired of telling people about my great big adventure. It's the same conversation every time, making me sound like a broken record. So I was glad today when said friend didn't ask me any questions.

Dropping Kyle off at the airport was easier than I thought it would be. I thought I would break down crying after our farwells, unable to drive the 2 hour trip home, having Jung-Min console me. Instead, I let some tears flow (without sobbing), popped bratmobile into the CD player, and headed for Madison without consulting the map. After months of knowing this time would come, it doesn't really feel all that different from when we parted for shorter lengths of time.

Here is a picture of the Omaha Zoo, apparently the best zoo in the nation.

http://www.flickr.com/photo.gne?id=256183

Let's hope this one works. I am still learning how to do this blog thing.

Haven't left yet

2004-08-23T13:09:00.000-07:00

Hanging out in Chicago, visiting old friends. Soon I will begin packing my bags and taking care of all those final details one must do before embarking on a new adventure. But I'm getting ahead of myself. I have one more full day left in the windy city, and I plan to enjoy every moment. Tomorrow I will kiss Kyle see-ya-later as he leaves for Ecuador. Ah love!

Tonight we have plans to go to a Korean restaurant so Jung-min can enjoy a taste of home. I will be able to experience what eating out has been like for her: not knowing what the menu says, unsure of what to order, and taking a stab in the dark that the food will taste good. Should be fun!