GlobeTrotting and Leaping

January

2012-02-01T00:22:00.002+07:00

In the light of having just finished my monthly reports on my students, I've decided life needs a monthly report. What exactly have we all accomplished this month?

Work: After a mental conversation with myself about how disorganized this school is, I was drawn into a conversation with a co-worker who insisted that this year has taken a giant leap forward from last year. I decided to keep my comments to myself as every day they seem to present us with newly cooked up bullshit. "Oh, by the way, there are only 15 minutes left of class but you've got to squeeze in this crab art project so we can show the parents how much we've accomplished even though our lessons this month had absolutely nothing to do with sea life!" This leads to us doing on the spot prep work while the children sit at the table staring at us. Yes, quite productive.
Anyway though, I have had a revelation that this could be my last year of teaching (at least for some time) so I had better enjoy the children while I can. After all, how can I not laugh and smile as they shout "Don't do that!" at each other, the first full sentence in English that most of them have ever made. What a proud teacher I should be.

In-laws: We were recently visited by my mother-in-law this week. She is a Turkish mom aka Super woman with an apron instead of a cape. She cleaned, cooked, wiped and straightened her way around our apartment for 7 days. Although having her around was sometimes a bit like being in high school again and trying to quietly make out with your boyfriend while your parents are watching television in the next room, she is a lovely woman and we get along great. At least she thinks using baking soda and lemon juice is a good idea on your hair whereas every other person I have told has rolled on the floor laughing about how my hair is going to fall out.

Visa: We officially started to collect our materials for Levent's immigrant visa, our key to unlocking that huge iron gate known as the USA border control. No, let me be serious for a moment. In actuality we have accomplished quite a lot in a few short days - birth certificate, criminal record, criminal record from Switzerland where he spent two years . . . in prison.

Did you believe that?? hehehehehe
Anyway, needless to say, we are well on our way, and I am feeling quite optimistic. After all, we are married, and it's our right to move to the US if we want so there, you silly embassy people! No, really, embassy people if you are reading I highly respect you and need you on our side. :) Thank you for your unending list of needs, I mean for your assistance.

What I feel most excited about is bringing two worlds - the world of my travels and the world I grew up in, together. Basically no one I have ever met while traveling has ever been to my home in the USA or met my family before. The life I know in the USA is so different from the one I know abroad. I am looking forward to seeing that home world through different eyes, through Levent's eyes. I can't wait for him to meet my family members, to ride a bike through Stone Harbor, to be a part of Christmas, to have his own culture shock.

However, for the time being, I am still in Turkey and must enjoy it to the fullest!

a walk

2012-01-22T23:53:00.002+07:00

We went for a walk. We stepped out the front door, down the three stairs and into the crowds of the Saturday market. The women trying on cheap dresses were as fierce as lions over a freshly killed zebra. They could not be pulled away from their prey, and we had to weave through them. Left, past the socks and right, passing more cheap dresses. Straight now through the fruits and vegetables and down to the sea side road. We took a left to follow the paved path. Normally we go straight here, but instead we decided to go right.

Down to the little grassy area with a few brown unoccupied picnic tables. It's January and too cold even in Antalya for a mid-day picnic. Our only company was a little gray cat searching for scraps of food.

We reached the cliffs and would have been stopped if we had not happened upon a path with concrete steps which led down, down to the water. We stopped at a landing that began to get steep. There near the edge was, as you will find anywhere there are human beings, was a pile of trash ruining the otherwise lovely scenery.
"If you saw 100 lira, would you go down there and get it?" I asked him, pointing to the trash pile.
"Yes."
"50 lira?"
"Yes."
"5 lira?"
"Yes."
Does this person have no dignity, or would that be my answer, too?

We continued down the staircase until we were right there sitting on the rock that the Mediterranean water continually lapped, pushed against, moved around. I looked up to see only cliffs and sky. Rock around me, sea at my back, sky as far as I could see.
"If you saw 100 lira in the water, would you swim out and get it?"
"Yes."

"If you were surrounded by pure life and pure beauty, would you still obsess over menial things?"

anXIEty

2012-01-15T00:32:00.002+07:00

Worry and anxiety... what are they doing in life? Even when I type those words or you read them I bet you might feel some stress. You might feel the pressure of your current problems and what you need to do about them. It seems that over time worrying has become a habit, almost a need, something I do without even realizing it. I can not help myself from doing it any more than you can stop yourself from biting into that hamburger or lifting that cigarette to your mouth. You know it isn't right, but man does it taste good.

I have recently discovered my top two stress relieving habits: 1) to worry and 2) to bite and pick my nails. It's like yes, I want to stop, I'm desperate to quit, but at the same time they are just too sweet to quit. That little high I get is too much to pass up. You might ask how I can say that about worry, but I have figured it out. I have an inkling that this applies to more women than just myself as well. Worry has become a way of "doing something" about the problem. Of course there is not anything I can do about the problem right now, but if I worry about it, at least I'll feel like by giving it my attention I am making some sort of contribution to the solution. It's using worry as some people use prayer, but I'm guessing it's somewhat less healthy.
And what is it about my nails that is so engrossing? That's one I don't think I'll ever solve.

Anyway, I decided to relieve a bit of my worry by talking about it, and since there is no one around but Mac, here I am telling you. We have started, or at least attempted to start the process of Levent's immigrant visa/green card which we hope to get by October at the latest.
Last year when we began thinking about it, the process seemed complicated so we said, ok, let's not worry about it until 2012. Well guess what, right under our noses, January 2012 has snuck up and pinched us, reminding me that it's time for my old friend anxiety to visit again. Let's just say there aren't many nails left to bite.

We are looking at tax forms, copies of every official document known to humankind, an interview, and of course the most unhelpful people in the world working at the US Embassy whose job it seems is to evade answering any questions you have while simultaneously making you feel like you are alone in your struggle to bring your husband to the United States. Another nail gone.

I know that I am supposed to take this process one step at a time, complete it inch by inch, step by step, but right now I feel like I am at the bottom of the mountain. I see a steep brown rock with dark clouds blocking the apex.
I guess the saddest part is that even though I know we will get there, I am not sure where my rope and climbing boots have gotten to. Perhaps my pal Worry will bring them back.

3 week update

2012-01-08T01:19:00.002+07:00

As you may recall, exactly three weeks ago I made the switch from normal shampoo to baking soda for my hair. Perhaps you are wondering how it has turned out, if my hair has fallen out or just disintegrated. Let me give you the full report.

My hair is on the oily side to begin with so as you can guess, the first night of baking soda left my hair looking as though it had not been washed with anything for a week. I did not wash my hair every day as I read that this is unhealthy so let me say that for the first week while outside the house my hair stayed tied up, clipped back and covered in any other creative way I could find. My neat freak husband was not too thrilled about how close his pillow was to the greaseball, but he made it along without too many frowns and shakes of the head. :)

Anyway, my scalp began to feel itchy, but I must report that my scalp has also had itchiness under the care of commercial shampoo. As we have heard from locals and visitors to Antalya, the water here though it is not sea water, it is far from Evian. Anyway, I thought to myself, there must be some natural way to help an itchy scalp. After more reading, I came across a formula which was right at my finger tips, i.e. in my kitchen cabinet - two spoonfuls of honey and three spoonfuls of olive oil. Mix them up, rub the mixture onto your scalp and through your hair and let sit for thirty minutes. Then, wash your hair with baking soda and there you go!

Unfortunately for me, the olive oil and honey would not come out of my hair even after several rinses and one baking soda wash. Did I mention this was New Year's Eve night right before I was about to go meet friends and leave home for the night? So once again I tied it up, clipped it back, and tried to act normal. Although it did not ata ll hinder my fun that night, it was a small setback for me because I had to use normal shampoo to get the oil and honey fully out of my hair. Believe me when I say I won't be using that method again.

Anyway, this brings us to week two and a half of using baking soda and the occasional spoonful of apple cider vinegar on my hair. How is it? Any guesses...?

Well, I kid you not that not only is it back to normal it is actually better. My hair is clean, smells normal, and even takes longer to become oily. As I sit here, it has been 48 hours since my last hair wash and it looks as it would usually look after less than 24 hours with normal shampoo. In addition, no animals were harmed in the cleaning of my hair. Mission accomplished.

I am now a convert so please, if I am coming to visit you, keep some baking soda in the house.

The next steps in my plan: homemade toothpaste and homemade deodorant

Ode to Friday

2012-01-07T01:18:00.002+07:00

Oh Friday, although I know it is up for debate amongst the masses, to me you truly are the greatest day of the week. How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.

First of all, oh dear Friday, you are the longest day because you truly begin for me on Thursday at half past five in the evening and so you continue for two evenings, one night, and a day. Throughout every hour of that time I can cherish you, knowing that I am in your soothing, calming presence.

When you wake me up at half past 6 that morning, I no longer fear because I know that you are going to let me rest soon after, and preparing breakfast is no longer a chore because I know that for the two beautiful following mornings I am no longer on breakfast duty. When you send me to school, I can look into the faces of my tired yet slightly cheered co-workers who greet me with the simple phrase, "Gunaydin, Stephanie, Bugun Cuma." (Good morning, Stephanie, It's Friday). Not just then but throughout the entire day as the children scream, as the bosses demand, as the parents phone and the problems build, we are able to throw it all away with our own little mantra that works without fail, "Neyse, bugun Cuma!" (Whatever, it's Friday).

And oh Friday, you allow us to be so frivolous without any cause for regret or repentance. We forget about writing lesson plans, or that Efe needs his medication at half past eleven, or that Semin wanted to see a copy of this or that, and you, Friday, like the wonderful hippie that you are say, "Hey now, don't worry about it, dude. You just give that stuff over to Monday." Oh Friday, you are always ready to lay the responsibility on someone else's shoulders, and that is why we cherish you. "Yeah, man, far out," we respond without so much as a flinch for the job we have agreed to do to the fullest. Neyse, Neyse, Neyse.

With the coming of the afternoon snack time, the parents come to pick up their children early, and we can begin to inhale the fragrant fumes of oxygen being stolen by less of the little spoiled balls of silly energy. Ah, Friday, the air is mine. Now sit down kid, play with those blocks, and don't talk to me. Aaaaahhhh... fresh oxygen free of the smell of paint, glue, and puke.

When you hit half past five, Friday, that is when I really suck it all in because without debate, people across the world can tell you that there's nothing like Friday night. Whether Friday night means beers with friends, bar hopping, date night or sitting at home on the couch with a book, you know it is gonna be freakin' awesome! What other day can say that? What other day has two days of bliss ahead of it? Oh, none, dear Friday, none.

So as I sit here, trying to get the tunes and words of incredibly annoying children's songs out of my head for two days, and I listen to the sound of rain and not the sound of any small, high-pitched voices, I thank you, Friday. Cuma gunu, seni cok seviyorum... Friday, I love you.

December 29

2011-12-30T01:09:00.003+07:00

Turkish people have tried to make Christmas a part of their own tradition. However, instead of opening up and making space for it on December 24th and 25th, they have instead dumped it onto New Year's Eve and New Year's Day. They put up "Christmas" trees with lights and ornaments, buy presents and even tell their children that Santa Claus (aka Noel Baba) will visit them. He doesn't come until the New Year though, but I guess he appreciates this as Turkey is one less stop he has to make on an already full night December 24th.

Today is December 29th, and we had our New Year's/Imitation Christmas celebration at school. I walked to school this morning, and it was the first time in a long time (since my MRI on my knee) that I took that thirty minute seaside stroll. The weather in Antalya during the day remains calm and sunny with a chill in the air. The chill isn't biting or intruding, rather it spreads itself out evenly around you and lets you breeze on through as if you were a part of it.

I had a very strong feeling that this day was a start to something new. It somehow seemed fresh and more alive, and in turn it made me feel the same.

Since last week we have been short-staffed at work, and it has not been easy. I have bordered on losing my temper with both children and bosses on more than one occasion. Short-staffed, no assistant, trying to put together a New Year's party, a presentable art project for the children to take home to their parents, end of the month newsletters and lesson plans, and little to no break time all day. This has made for a very ugly few days.

Yet today some light, Liz would be back and therefore the responsibility, the running around, the yelling, could all be divided up that much more equally. Relief.

The school day began. We sang Christmas songs. The creepy clown performed his set of incredibly immature magic acts that the children eat up and swallow whole. Noel Baba came and gave out presents (that the parents had bought beforehand, wrapped and delivered to school). My class went upstairs, and there I was with twelve greedy three and four year old little ones with their packages, "Stephanie, can you open this? Stephanie, open this one! Stephanie, Stephanie, Stephanie," until I finally decided on a legal name change as the solution.

This is the first time since I became a teacher that I've started to be at the end of my nerves, possibly even dislike my job. Perhaps it's not only that the children are too rich and too spoiled, that the bosses are greedy, or that parent's satisfaction no matter how it comes is the number 1 aim (who can blame them, I guess... this is after all, a business, not just a school), or that there is a lack of support for teachers unless you remind them of the need for assistance a few times every day. Perhaps there is, just as I felt this morning, a change and a new start sweeping through the air. Perhaps I might pick up my magic carpet and hop on for the ride to who knows where.

Sodium Bicarbonate

2011-12-21T01:35:00.002+07:00

Some time ago I posted a blog about the use of animal products in shampoo, and how I no longer wanted to use them. After initial research I found myself at a store called The Body Shop which neither uses animal products nor tests on animals. I was glad until I paid fifteen dollars for a bottle of conditioner. This week I found myself doing even more research. Wait a minute, why do I have to rely on stores? Why can I not just make my own shampoo? Eureka!

After browsing around on several different websites, I began to find that it is quite simple to make your own products like shampoo, conditioner, lotion and even toothpaste. Then I found the answer to all life's problems, just a simple chemical called sodium bicarbonate which is also known as baking soda. Yes, my friends, baking soda is the secret ingredient to saving money, keeping clean and basically all of life's other difficulties! Dirty carpet? Put baking soda on it. Baking cookies? Add baking soda. The boss is treating you badly? Sprinkle baking soda on the bastard!

In all seriousness, I read that by massaging a tablespoon of baking soda with a cup of warm water onto your scalp is the ultimate healthy, animal-friendly, pipe-friendly solution.
The only drawback (so they say) is that for the first two weeks your hair and scalp must adjust to this new cleansing method. Your scalp is used to being stripped of all its natural oils from commercial shampoo so it therefore produces them in excess. There is a time period where your hair must realize that its natural oils are perfectly welcome to stay around in small numbers and do not need to overcompensate for the shampoo's thievery.

Also to condition your hair, every so often you can cleanse with apple cider vinegar. Just mix it with hot water, rub it through the ends and rinse it out.

I am currently at the end of Day four of baking soda washing, and I have oily hair to begin with so I do look rather like a dirty hippie, I suppose. Today in the afternoon, one of my co-workers asked me why my hair was wet. I had to explain this new process. "Well, uh, good luck to you, Stephanie," in a not very convincing voice was the retort.
Also, after my vinegar wash last night, I found my husband at the far end of the bed.
"Are you upset, what's wrong? Why are you so far away? Have I done something?"

"Vinegar, Stephanie, vinegar."

Yes, indeed, I did smell like I had just been dying Easter eggs or was a dyed Easter egg, but so what... this is all on a path to naturally clean hair, right!?

Only time will tell!

all I want for Christmas

2011-12-18T17:29:00.002+07:00

The wind and rain have cancelled a trip to see the birthplace and tomb of St. Nicholas, the man on whom the modern day Santa Claus is based. I suppose that is not a problem as the rain gives me more of an urge to sit on the couch looking out rather than in a car knowing I'm going to have to walk around in it.
Therefore from my spot on this cushion I will ask Santa for what I want.

Lately Levent and I have been thinking and talking a lot about creating change in our lives. From things as little as buying a cloth bag to take to the grocery store instead of using plastic to moving to the United States, starting and building a life there. Change, I know, can be incredibly frightening as well as wonderfully healthy.

There is something I have been wondering as I make small changes, try to do new and more things. How much is possible to fit into one life and how much is too much? For example, I have started taking piano lessons and am continuing writing what I hope will one day be a novel at the same time as I am working full-time. I have been worried that I will not write quality literature or give a sufficient enough time to the piano in order to progress because of how tired I sometimes am after a day of three-year-old girls and boys.

However, when I imagine my life in an ideal fashion, I am taking time to run and exercise, write, read fiction and non-fiction, play piano, spend quality time with Levent, cook healthy food, see friends and family and socialize, study something on my own time, and work full-time. And of course we can not forget travel at the top of the list. I would also like to fit a few naps in there somewhere. Eventually I may want to add a child or two to this mix. Can I do it, or am I fooling myself?

When I write it out in a list like that I feel that on a weekly basis all of these things can be accomplished with a good calendar and the right motivation. As Levent tells me, busy people achieve more.

the marker situation

2011-12-08T00:37:00.003+07:00

I give the children a coloring sheet with a big caterpillar, and I tell them to color it green because green is the color of the day. I tell them that whoever colors the caterpillar nicely and in green gets a sticker.

They understand my words, at least most of them do even though English is not their native language. After three months in the classroom together we can communicate pretty well.

Some of them immediately pull the green marker out of the case saying "Look, Stephanie, green!" "Well done, good job!" I say.

Others hesitate and then eventually pull out green.

Still others space out.

Then there are those who look into their marker box and pull out pink or orange or whatever strikes their fancy.

"Look, Stephanie," someone says as they point to student A whose marker color is some offensive shade of blue instead of the much more welcomed green.

"Well, I guess he won't get a sticker, then," I say shrugging it off and encouraging the other to go back to her own work.

Then, I think for a moment and I wonder to myself who I should be more proud of in that moment.

Should I be proud of the listener, the "good" student, the one who immediately went for green and began to focus and do exactly what I, the authority figure, told her to do?

Should I be pleased at her ability to "follow instructions?" She did not ask me why I said green when there are so many other colors with which to decorate a picture. Already at three years old she looks like a success story, an over-achiever, a teacher's pet.

Or should I be more proud of student A, who probably did listen to what I said and who probably saw me praising his fellow students with their green marker? Even though the authority figure said to use green he still chose what he wanted. Should I be proud of his desire to do it his own way and proud that he did not feel the need to follow the leader? Is he too a success story, or is his mind just filled with cartoons and action figures and blocks?

When I give him the green marker to use and he refuses by taking it from my hand and throwing it in the direction of the box, is he standing up for something or is he just spoiled? Or is three years old just too early to tell?

nature and nurture

2011-12-04T17:51:00.002+07:00

Last night I watched a documentary which you may have heard of called The Cove. It is about dolphins being slaughtered in mass off the coast of Japan. Although the documentary was incredibly disheartening in terms of human behavior and marine conservation, it made me glad to be a vegetarian, one who also does not eat seafood.

However, it also made me want to do something more about it, to contribute my energy for the cause of life, life of all creatures and beings on the planet.

I am trying to seek out things I can do - consume less, do not support exploitation of animals in the circus, shows, etc.

Thinking of the abuse of animals and human beings in the world is enough to make someone really upset, to make you feel powerless, like a fly in a web struggling for freedom and a way out. You feel like you stand no chance against the governments and the large money-hungry corporations. You can sign petitions, but do they really work? Clicking the words "sign now" does not give you any feeling of satisfaction or accomplishment. Yet perhaps (hopefully) it is something.

Now, at the other end of the spectrum lies a philosophy, a way of thinking which may in fact solve these problems. It may help you to put these feelings to rest. It is the philosophy of letting go, releasing yourself from worry by either prayer, meditation or other form of disengagement from stress. I admit that this method can be quite effective and is, in fact, necessary for peace of mind. When it comes to matters of money, discrepancies at work, family bickering, annoying things and people, I do believe the best approach is the "F*ck It" method or "Let Go and Let God," basic realization by whatever means that these problems are not worth your energy. They detract from your happiness and quality of life.

Can we, however, apply these same systems for global issues, environmental trouble, rights of creatures (humans included)? Are these also cases that the every day individual should "give to God" or cope with under a tree with eyes closed for hours? Can positive thoughts and voices alone actually stop slaughter, war, oppression?

How can you, how can I make a difference when we are so busy with our own lives? And at the same time, how can we make a difference without losing our peace of mind or our optimism in life and encouraging thoughts about humanity?

After thinking and doing some research I have discovered what I believe you and I can do. It can be summed up as follows: Live your life as though you are a creature of this Earth who is part of an ecosystem, part of a group of living beings who are dependent on one another for survival and procreation.

Be an example of what to do.

1)Care.

2)Be a vegetarian.

3)Be a vegan.

4)Sign petitions.

5)Use cloth diapers for your baby.

6)Use cloth bags at the grocery store.

7)Look on the internet for more extensive lists of these methods.

8)Go outside just to be in nature and appreciate it as it is.

7)Do YOUR part. Keep in mind that you do not have to do anyone else's part or more than one part. Do what YOU can do.

8)CARE.

9)CARE.

10)CARE.

Life in Cold Blood

2011-11-28T16:58:00.002+07:00

A video I recently saw of a policeman spraying non-violent protestors in the face with tear gas has caused a mental uproar within me. In my mind I have a certain impression of protests, both domestic and foreign. For example, modern protests in the United States of America involve groups of people holding signs and chanting in front of an official building for what they want or believe. These protestors are not harmed in any way, and perhaps their opinions are even considered. At times, they can even bring about change. In contrast, my idea of protests in foreign countries involves screaming, yelling, violence, protestors and police being injured and killed. Is this the truth or simply what the media has fed to me?

I have appreciated my country because of our freedoms, our rights to express our opinion without being harmed, at least physically. However, that video has shown me that my democratic countrymen are also capable of such unnecessary violence. It makes me wonder whether or not I have been naive. Do the words "freedom of speech" and "freedom of the press" only hold to a certain point? Is there a point in which public opinion must be slapped with rubber bullets and tear gas because it has hit too close to home or put someone's fortune at risk? Or am I, are we just not well enough informed?

This topic has taken me further into thinking of how society functions, of capitalism and socialism, war and peace, human beings and animal instincts.

Last night I watched a documentary entitled "Life in Cold Blood." It was about reptiles and amphibians. It showed the lives of some of these creatures, their instincts to survive, daily task of finding food, fights (at times to the death) over territory and sexual partners, and ability to show affection. I found that they do not differ from us human beings. After all, we are all simply animals.

It is said, however, that what does separate us from other animals is our ability to reason. I must propose though that it does not separate us at all, and if it does this slight separation is not a positive one.

You would think that an ability to reason would show us that peace, cooperation, and love are so essential. They are utopia, heaven on earth as it were. However, it does not. Instincts will not be denied. Instead we are jealous, envious, greedy, covetous. A jump to violence seems to be just as prevalent in our nature as feeding our hunger or having sex. What humans have done with "reason" is used it to make large amounts of paper money, bigger weapons with which to protect that sum, and mental walls to stop ourselves from seeing that violence is tearing apart the lives of all beings of the planet.

War, mental, physical, spiritual, and emotional destruction.

One's ability to live in a place without gunfire, bombs and mental abuse is a matter of luck.

Given the power, the money, and the weapons all at my disposal, would I not do the same? Would you?

dissecting value

2011-11-20T18:42:00.002+07:00

A sunny but chilly afternoon of pondering. What has been on my mind lately is the idea of value. What is value? Who decides it and why?

The word value and the concept of value concerns maintenance or excess of a certain standard. This amount of money, this amount of time, this kind of behavior are all equal to value. It is set upon a scale from zero to billions, trillions or possibly even more. Some examples include money. The more money you pay, the higher the value of the jewelry. The older it is the higher the value of wine. The newer it is, the higher the value of an iPhone. A queen holds a high value in chess and an Ace in some card games. With these, the value can be tested based on taste, quickness of closing and opening applications, the necklace not breaking, but still no set standard exists.

Value is also varied dependent on certain beings and their surroundings. In some cases the value of a basic plow may be much higher than that of a telephone, or a well near the house much more valuable than a grocery store. This leaves value basically undefined.

Still, let us consider other types of value such as the value of a piece of paper known as money, of my marriage certificate, of my passport, and of my signature. All of these values are based on one thing, communal belief. Everyone has agreed to worship this paper in such a way. The American and Turkish governments have agreed to treat both Levent and I in a special way due to the red booklet we now possess. My boss has agreed to pay me because of my name on a document called a contract. I must, of course, agree that these elements help things in life to function in, at least, a semi-organized manner. I make money. I teach the children. I call myself a wife. I travel. I live based on acceptance of what society has established and sustained.

However, just for one moment, let us take away this consensual belief in the above agreed upon statements. In reality, those green rectangles in my wallet mean nothing. I am not married. I am under no obligation to teach or to be paid. I am not American. It is my own belief or perhaps non-belief that these latter statements hold the most truth. Without belief, consensual belief, brainwashing, "common knowledge," learned "facts of life" that we all grew up in, what we have deemed so necessary (social security cards, driver licenses, tax forms, official documents of any kind) holds zero value. I still exist with no birth certificate. I can still drive an automobile without a license. I can go to any spot in the world of my own accord. I am a being in possession of these basic abilities.

No one has the right to keep me on a Russian airport hotel floor based on what documents I do or do not carry, yet I allowed that to happen because of my "respect" or "fear" of the values of these rules. Yet these "truths" are indeed false controllers of beings. We are all creatures with an inherent right to walk and move as long as we do not harm other beings. We all exist, and we have the right to survive. We are. This is truth and value.

In fact, the only concept in which the word value applies is on time. Spending time on an invention, an article of writing, enjoying the company of another being. This alone creates value, a value notwithstanding money or other tangible items. This is a value that can be found solely in the state of mind of the beings involved.

the art of meditation and witchcraft

2011-11-09T21:45:00.003+07:00

It was a dark and lonely night. When the sun departs so early, it leaves much time for shadow. One grows tired of the stabbing glow of artificial light. I took the three candles in the house, one light blue, one dark blue, and one maroon. The maroon candle's wick was buried inside as if sitting at the bottom of a rimmed barrel. The dark blue one I placed on the kitchen table across the room, the light blue on the coffee table in front of the couch, and the third on the arm of the couch to my right.

I wanted to meditate after a long day filled with nothing in particular as far as physical motion. Too many thoughts negative and positive had been shoving one another for the foremost spot, and I wanted to disappear into an environment where I need only be, not worry, nor regret, nor wonder. I turned off all the lights and watched the flame on the light blue candle in front of me. Its flame seemed almost out of control, flickering and growing at its will. This candle leans slightly to the left, and I feared that in its frenzy it might tip over onto the unread magazine and become dangerous instead of calming like it was supposed to do.

I focused on the flame, and the more I concentrated on the burning fire the higher it seemed to reach. It changed colors, the middle burning a bright yellow and its sides flaming outwards orange. First, it became incredibly tall and thin. Then it seemed to sprout orange wings and flap as if to take off from the table. I shifted my gaze to the candle across the room on the kitchen table, and it too danced before me. It grew in size, reaching out like a many-pointed golden star. It too grew wings and warned of the urge to lift itself from the table. To where it desired to go I know not.

I looked to the flame on my right. It was but a tiny orange glow poking its head ever so slightly upward as if afraid to show its face. A mere few seconds passed before I gave up on its power and turned my attention back to the large flickering in front of me.

I contemplated revenge because it had won the battle, become the frontrunner in my mind that day. What is it? What are its uses? How can you bring it about?

It is one belief that if someone has wronged you, a supreme being will bring the proper punishment upon that person. It is a belief I do not share. A woman (or a man) must be the waver of the wand of her own vengeance.

How can I see to it that certain debts are paid by those who owe them? How can I be assured that one who puts out his hand with the intent to violate then loses that hand?

How can I be sure that one who purposefully draws a knife across another's heart in order to scar it feels the same in return?

And my own misdeeds and wickedness? Have I repaid them in full?

Oh, flames, what can you tell me of this?

Shall I leave it to karma, to fate, to life, to death? Do we all truly pay for our transgressions? Do the actions that go around actually come back around?

Kurban Bayramı

2011-11-07T16:19:00.002+07:00

It is Monday at 11:20 in the morning, and I am sitting at home. While most people in the world are probably at work, waking up for work or about to wake up and go to work, I am sitting on the couch. You might wonder why, and so do I, which is why I am writing this piece.

In Turkey it is now the Muslim holiday of Kurban Bayramı, and I get to take five days off from work. As I was sitting here relaxing after a bit of cleaning, I decided it would be appropriate to find out why I get to sit here instead of yelling at little children today. I did a bit of research into the celebration, and this is what I found.

There is a story shared in Islam, Judaism and Christianity that is the basis for this festival. One Abraham was ordered by God through dreams to sacrifice his only son Ismail. Being a firm believer, Abraham decided there was nothing else to do but convince his Ismail of God's orders and proceed with it. Ismail of course consented and found himself on a stone table under a knife held by his father when suddenly God appeared (after a sudden change of mind? after realizing Abraham had taken his practical joke too far?) and instead presented the father and son with a ram to sacrifice.

The Prophet Mohammed turned this into the most important Islamic festival, celebrated for four days every year, dates dependent on the Muslim calendar. Of course tradition has built up around the holiday.

Animals, mostly sheep, are sacrificed once a Muslim returns from his or her pilgrimage to Mecca. Each sacrificial animal must be one year old minimum.

In ancient times, men and women took half a day before the start of the festival in order to clean homes for visitors and to prepare presents such as tailor-made clothes.

The first day of the holiday was when each animal was slaughtered. One-third of the meat was for the family, another third for friends and neighbors, and the final third given to the poor.

The second day of the holiday involved visiting the oldest male member on the wife's side of the family as well as going to kiss the hand of one's employer, derived from respectful treatment given to the current Sultan of the day.

Finally, people would visit the graves of dead family members. Men were paid to sing psalms from the Koran in the graveyard in front of a certain grave. Afterwards members of the family planted flowers near the tombstones.

Today, of course, the traditions of Kurban Bayram have changed somewhat. For example, the Turkish government has forbidden the slaughter of animals in public places. However, depending on the size of the town you live in you might still see this happening. It can be rather a gruesome sight, as you need not be a trained butcher to try your hand at cutting the animal.

Still many people participate in this act, and sheep can be bought through your local supermarket.

People still visit relatives and friends, and each home is stocked with candy to serve guests. After taking a piece of candy you are expected to rub their hands with "kolonya," which is scented ethyl alcohol, whose English name (if there is one) escapes me.

Rich Turks, however, prefer to take a holiday abroad or to some other intriguing location.

As for me, I am grateful for being able to sleep in and also for the fact that no one is slaughtering a sheep on the street outside my window.

Kurban Bayramı Kutlu Olsun!

Special thanks to the Hurriyet Daily News and to Levent for providing the information. :)

of changing minds

2011-10-29T23:40:00.003+07:00

I guess this is something that has been in the works since January when I decided to sign up for the GRE and do my Master's in Cultural Studies in Istanbul. Apparently it was a slow process though because I didn't come to the realization until this past Thursday.

One of the little children in my class, a particularly strong pain in my neck who lacks the control to keep himself from hitting and pushing his classmates at random and runs out of the classroom whenever possible, was walking up the stairs. Of course as usual he was refusing to come up the stairs and so instead of dragging him along like I sometimes I do, I just let him sit there and said plainly and blatantly, "I hope you hurt yourself." I left him there.

Of course I only left him because I knew my assistant was not far behind and would scoop him up, but still it isn't right. You can't say that to a little kid. What would his mother think? If he could understand I bet he would have come up and hit me, but that's not really different from his usual behavior.

The thing is I enjoy teaching, could even go so far as to say I love it a lot of the time. I do. It's been my job for five or six years now, and it's been good to me. It's taken me around the world, and that I really love. It's given me opportunities to learn new languages, see amazing sights, meet incredible people and discover loads about myself. In short, it has paid me back much higher than any salary.

I have come to realize that travel is an essential part of my life for its ability to teach, to open my eyes, and for the fun it adds. However, I have also become aware that I am less and less interested in the "education" of small children. What I enjoy about my job is how cute the children are, how they make me laugh, and how quickly they are able to pick up and then reproduce new things. Secondly, I spend most of the day on the weekdays in their presence, and it becomes consuming. So consuming, in fact, that I come home and think about them, or more often than not, they show up in my dreams. For example, Friday was a half day so I came home and decided to take it easy by napping. What happened? In the middle of my nap I entered a dream where I was on a bus dropping students off at home. Sometimes I feel there is no escape, or I just need better mind control.

If I get a Master's degree in teaching it would help me to travel more like I have been doing the past few years, but I wouldn't be focusing on an education that matters most to me, my own. I want to study something new, something useful and interesting. I am of a mind to start over again as if I was about to graduate from high school this year, and I have the freedom to do just that so why not?

What field can I choose that would be new, exciting and interesting and still allow me to travel, possibly even have a job in any country I wanted?

Chemistry?

And if I want to go back to teaching one day, I know I can. Yet I feel that my path leads away from that course.

or so I thought...

2011-10-21T00:07:00.002+07:00

I was very proudly in my one year and ninth month of vegetarianism last week. I was thinking to myself how glad I am that I became vegetarian and how it isn't really that difficult to do. I WAS thinking all of these things until Levent read an article to me from the Turkish newspaper. This article was about how the Muslim leaders in Turkey are asking people to use soap from now on to wash their hair instead of shampoo. Why, what a silly suggestion one might think. What could be the reason for this one might ask. The article went on to tell us that apparently pig fat is used in the making of shampoo and is therefore forbidden to Muslims (who as you might know do not eat pork, ham, bacon or participate in the usage of any pig products).

Then, I started to do some more of my own research into this subject, and from my research I found out that not only is animal fat used in shampoo. It is also used in the making of soap, conditioner, make-up and quite a few other beauty products.

I also very recently found out that cheese is not a vegetarian product. Parts of calves' stomachs are used in the process of cheese-making.

A few months ago I stopped eating gummy bears, marshmallows, and jello because these all contain a product called gelatin which is not technically considered to be an animal product, but it is made from animal bones.

So, no I do not eat chicken, beef, pork, duck, etc., and I do not wear leather shoes or carry leather handbags, but an animal did die for the shampoo I just used to wash my hair.

Of course I began to research companies which use natural ingredients for their beauty products, but in Turkey I am not sure where to find them. I will get to the bottom of this though no matter how many stores I have to interrogate.

This being said, the question that I pose is as follows: If you can make these products without a death, why would you not?

Why does an animal have to die so my hair can be shiny and bouncy, so that my shoes can be more stylish than someone else's, so that my lips can appear more luscious?

In whom should I be more disappointed? In them because they did not tell me? In them because they made no rule about informing customers what does and does not have a piece of dead animal in it? In myself because I washed my hair tonight, put lotion on my body and ate cheese this morning?

Can I still call myself a vegetarian? Can I still call myself a good creature of this earth?

settling in

2011-10-16T22:11:00.002+07:00

We have been in Antalya for a month and a half now, and I thought it would be good to see how yours truly is settling in here.

Our first floor furnished apartment with front and back balconies and a Saturday street market has turned out to be a place I can almost say I love. Aside from the occasional toilet flushing issues, it feels like home. We have a comfortable bed in a bedroom that actually looks out onto a backyard (instead of the wall from last year's bedroom). Levent has his music room, and there is enough space to spend time together or apart depending on what we need. Not to mention our walk to the sea takes less than three minutes, and our walk to the Saturday market takes less than three seconds.

Things are going really well at school. Finally most of the students except for the inevitable, occasional relapses have stopped crying and calling out for their mothers. We are all able to finally settle down, listen, color, paint, play, sing, jump and get on each others' nerves in just about the right proportion each day. It's enough to let me appreciate the good stuff like Murat's high-pitched three-year-old voice as he puts on the cow puppet and proclaims proudly, "My name is Cow!" Or when Yaren gets my attention just to say, "Stephanie, Seni Cok Seviyorum!" (I love you so much!). Maybe soon she'll say it in English. I'm enjoying my second year of being a classroom teacher who speaks English instead of an English teacher.

I finally have insurance again after many long years without it. Should I thank my lucky stars nothing major happened, or just go along in my invincible way? This week I will go to the doctor to have my knee looked at, and hopefully the results, eventually, will be positive and involve me running again. Even if I can't do another marathon, perhaps a 10k. Please!!

My Istanbul Guide is due out any day now. I am just waiting for my boss to get back in touch to say that I can officially call myself a travel writer with published material. That will be a great day for me, and if I sell one copy even if it's only to my father I'll be a happy individual. In addition to that, I have a steady writing schedule for what I hope will one day be a novel. Also, did you notice I've been blogging more?

Lastly, and possibly most important for my sanity as a female, I have friends again. I've begun to hang out occasionally with the girls from work, Liz, Emily and Danielle, one British and two Americans. Just a couple of girls who know what it's like to live, work, and be in relationships abroad. Just a couple of girls to chat, gossip, and laugh with. On Friday night we found ourselves at the not-so-aptly-but-definitely-cleverly-named Chocolate Bar for a few overpriced beers and a night out. Yes it is true that I only stayed for a few hours and left before midnight because I did want to come home to my husband at a decent hour, but it was just what I needed to take the edge off the week. We talked about everything from work to travel to men to clothes to food and vetoed a possible hook-up for Emily because, well, he just wasn't all that. :) All in a day's work.

It is safe to say that life is looking up at this point, and Antalya was a great choice for this year.

speaking of dreams...

2011-10-09T18:20:00.002+07:00

Yes, speaking of dreams, I am not sure how I should feel about the following:

First, let me explain one point.
I do enjoy my job as a preschool teacher, but sometimes it can be rather overwhelming for me. For example, I come home and sometimes think of the students and the lessons. How did it go? What could I do better? What could they do better? How can I get them to do this or that? I try not to think of it too much when I get home, but sometimes it just floats back into my mind no matter how much I try to push it out.

Secondly, as you know, I am a person who gets haunted by her dreams, and at the same time Levent is a light sleeper who wakes up a lot during the night. He occasionally wakes up at 1 am and stays awake until 3 am.

So this is what happened. On Friday night I had one of those work-obsessed evenings, but I was so tired. I fell asleep before Levent and was soon off in dreamland. Unfortunately I could not escape school because in my dream there I was in my classroom. I was standing in front of the shelves looking for something, and Elif, one of the Turkish teachers, was in the classroom with me. She was looking through students' bags and other items.
At this point in the dream I was obviously cycling out of REM sleep and back into wakefulness but slowly. Dream Elif turned to me, showed me a bag and said "Whose is this?" Dream Stephanie, however, had just completed the cycle and so Real Stephanie said firmly out loud for everyone (Levent) to hear, "Yusuf!" As soon as I said this, I opened my eyes and was met with Levent immediately saying, "uh, who is Yusuf?"

That's right, yours truly, in the presence of her husband has blurted out another man's name in bed. Of course it was an innocent mistake because Yusuf is actually the name of one of the little boys in my class, but I felt so embarrassed and even unsure what to say.

The next morning when we woke up, Levent said, "So, Yusuf, huh?" He jokingly made fun of me, but I felt genuinely ashamed. Maybe I was ashamed of the whole uttering another man's name or maybe it was that I am letting my work overtake my brain to an unhealthy point at which I am saying student's names in my sleep. Either way, it can not be good.

However, looking back, I now find it rather amusing and plan to share this little anecdote with my co-workers tomorrow. Will they think I am insane? Do you think I am insane?

dream sequence

2011-10-07T23:53:00.003+07:00

What's in a dream? Even more intriguing, what's in a recurring dream? Why are we sometimes haunted by these nonsensical visions while in the depth of sleep, and is it really worth trying to understand?

I've had recurring dreams my whole life. As a child, all of my nightmares had an animal theme. I was trying to run away from Big Foot. A dog was chasing me into my house. I was locked in a prison cell with a dragon. I was standing on the ladder of a pool which contained a whale that wanted to eat me. Another recurring piece was that each animal could speak.
In my twenties I don't have dreams like this anymore. Now my nightmares have taken a new form. Perhaps this is something we all experience from decade to decade.

When I was in college Jen and I used to call one another up with our dreams and conduct a thorough analysis. As I recall this time of my life, I do not remember having any recurring dreams. Why not? Is this because the analysis took away the "problem" I was experiencing. Perhaps it was some type of relief for any present anxiety.

Nowadays I don't discuss my dreams with anyone but my journal, and this only rarely. These days my recurring dreams take two different forms. One of these always centers around a certain college basketball coach I had who I feel will probably haunt my dreams from time to time until death do us part. I don't see her every night. I would say once in a month or two, but some nights, even when I have not been reminiscing on my college years, there she is wielding her wand of fear and torture to make me feel like not only less of a basketball player, but less of a human being. Anyway, time continues to medicate that wound.

The second recurring dream also focuses on college but in this one I am a few classes short of earning my degree. I am the age I am now, and I have been away from school for six years, just like now, but I need to take a few more classes. I try to make it to class, but I can not find the building or the room, or I get distracted by something else and forget I need to go. For some reason or another, I just can not finish. When I wake up, I have to remind myself that I did indeed graduate and have my degree. This brings me to great relief and at the same time great curiosity as to why I can't keep this subject out of my head.

I have thought it through now even without Jen to bounce it off of, and I have come to the following conclusion. The idea of going to graduate school has been on my mind for about eight months. I have mentally tossed around what to study, where to go, why to study. I have considered Cultural Studies just because I found it interesting, but that's how I got my first "useless" degree, isn't it? I have thought about a Master's in Teaching because I love teaching, and a certificate would get me international access with better schools and a better salary. At the same time, I can not get it out of my head that it would be interesting to just stop and do something totally different. What if I studied Chemistry? I think it's interesting and of course, incredibly useful. Then, I begin to think, hey, why don't I do every single one? One at a time of course.

The main thing I guess is that as I get older I have found myself with a bit more serious approach to life from a financial standpoint. In addition, I have a husband whose needs I also need to consider as we share a path now.

I just hope that a focus on "reality" will not keep me from the incredibly important task of educating myself, whether it be through school, travel or just sitting outside watching the sea.

Saturday market

2011-10-02T16:29:00.000+07:00

Ah, Saturday morning. I wake up and decide to take a peek at the clock just to see. It is a quarter to seven, and I rejoice in the fact that I although I don’t feel the need for more sleep, I do not have to get out of bed.
We decide to get up anyway and take a walk. Levent, Firat, and I walk out of the house to tables and tents being set up, trucks carrying different goods driving up, and men yelling to each other, preparing for the day. This is the start of the weekly Saturday morning bazaar in which we are lucky enough to have an apartment.

After walking about forty minutes, we return from the seaside to our neighborhood. It is almost eight o’clock, and although most stands are not completely ready, a few have their wares out already. We stop to buy tomatoes and cucumbers as part of our breakfast, delighted in how cheap they are and the fact that they will most likely last us all week.

From the house with the windows open you can hear things going on. Men and women begin yelling out their prices to the people walking by. “Ladies, 10 lira here, 10 lira, skirts and shirts 10 lira!” (10 lira is about 7 dollars.) No, of course, it’s not the highest quality, but it’s cheap. It is fun to sit at our living room window listening to the sounds and watching the different people walk around. At this time, there are still both tourists and locals making their way through, and you can hear English, Russian, Turkish and a few other languages thrown in for good measure.

A bit later on, it is time to get our weekly shopping done. Levent and I venture out into the bazaar around noon. At this time, it is much busier. The market covers about three parallel streets and those connecting them, and there is a lot to see. Even if you do not buy anything, just a walk through is incredible. You can find perfume, utensils, sheets and pillow cases, any type of clothing including bras and underwear, any household and kitchen item such as teapots, cleaning supplies, salt shakers. The list goes on and on. People sell bread, water, spices, fish, gozleme ( a Turkish dish, sort of toasted wrap bread with cheese, meat or potato in the middle).
Then, there is my favorite part: the fresh fruits and vegetables coming from local farms. Is there anything more a vegetarian might want?

Deep red tomatoes, dark green cucumbers and peppers, bright orange carrots, white mushrooms, green beans, fresh broccoli, zucchini, boiling corn on the cob. Juicy peaches, green and purple grapes, dark purple figs, watermelons and honeydew. If you can imagine it, you can find it. I almost always buy too many things because I just can not help myself.
Saturday market, I love you. :)

early Wednesday morning

2011-09-29T01:12:00.000+07:00

I rise early. It’s six am and though part of me desires to keep sleeping, I let other factors motivate me such as how good the exercise will feel, how nice the sea will look, and most importantly that my hair is already dirty so I have to shower even if I don’t go for a run. I might as well get up.

I eat one banana, strap on my knee brace, and walk out the front door. It’s still dark outside at ten past six to the point where it is almost scary to be walking around alone. I don’t see anyone though, and I walk the three minutes down to the running/walking/biking path that takes you right by the sea. The path is next to the road, and a space of grass and parks are all that exist between you and the fifty foot cliffs that drop off into the Mediterranean. As soon as I hit the concrete path, I begin running. The beginning is a struggle, perhaps because it’s quarter past six and I basically just woke up. I turn my attention to the hotels and cafes lining the street on the first part of the run. A man walks out of a market carrying a large, black bag presumably of trash.
There are no out of ordinary sights until you hit the Cesnigir Cafe. The owner of this place puts his crackly twelve-inch TV on a table outside with the news playing at full volume.

After this I pass into the park areas where they keep the grass cut and everything looking pretty. The park is filled with metal, outdoor exercise equipment. It is not like the normal equipment that you would see at a gym, but it tries to be. There is a leg extension, but if your legs are not as short as a child’s they won’t fit into any kind of position where you could actually do the exercise effectively or at all. There is another machine where you sit down and pull down on handle bars above you. As you pull down on the bars the rest of you goes up, almost like a fun ride you are giving to yourself. Another machine has you standing with both feet on a platform and swinging from side to side. This might seem silly and even embarrassing, yet it never fails that if you pass by this park anytime between the hours of 6:30 am and 9:00 pm, people will be on those machines forcefully thrusting body parts from side to side and up and down. If nothing else, the entertainment value is fantastic both for the doer and the observer.

At this point in the run I actually start to pass other runners and walkers doing their own exercise routines. Mostly older people are up to exercise at this hour, and they are unusually friendly. Maybe it’s because they live in a beautiful city like Antalya right by the sea that keeps them so cheerful. People in Istanbul never smiled or said “Good Morning” to me on an exercise path.

The road is pretty smooth from here, you can look at the sea and feel that you are breathing in fresh air. Rarely does a car pass at this hour. The path continues to be lined with parks, grass and water on the right and hotels and skyscraper-like apartment buildings on the left.

Finally you reach yet another entertaining area of the path which I like to call the Canine Lane. Here there are probably a dozen or so stray dogs. They are lying down, walking around, sometimes trotting happily along the path with the people. Nothing seems to bother these dogs with one exception: motor vehicles. When a car does happen to pass by, five or six of them immediately jump up and bark viciously. They get in the car’s way. They run beside it for a good thirty yards. Of course the cars honk at them, but this only seems to make it worse. However, as soon as the car is out of sight, the dogs return to their normal calm, almost friendly state of existence.
I have developed a theory for this behavior. My theory is that some time ago, I’ll guess anywhere from a week up to several months, one of their best friends, an essential part of the pack was hit by a car. They saw the way he cried out in pain and limped (or lay) in pain until death. The experience was so traumatizing for them that they can not let any car go by without a retaliation for this loss.

Some time after this is my time to turn around and run it all back through on the way home. On the way back I try to feel my knee and judge how its doing. I have been religiously doing my knee and quadricep strengthening exercises, and I expect it to pay off. I hope, I wish, I wait even as I run. It IS paying off, I can tell this. However, will it be enough? There is a marathon in Antalya in March. There is also a half-marathon and 10 kilometer option. Will I be ready for any of these?

These are the thoughts running through my head as I finish up and walk on home in the semi-light of dawn coming over the mountains of Antalya.

new cast of characters

2011-09-25T16:46:00.000+07:00

Here in the last week of September, I think we can officially consider ourselves settled into our new, yet of course temporary, home, Antalya. We have rented an apartment which is literally two minutes walk from the Mediterranean Sea with a view of mountains across the way. Along the sea is a path for runners and walkers which is a path along which I can walk for thirty minutes to my job. Not a bad gig, I must say. Levent and I have both been inspired to train for the marathon which happens here in March. I am pretty confident that if I can actually get to the doctor this year, I can figure out how to solve the problem with my knee.

Anyway, with the move to Antalya has begun a new job, a new school, and new little children to yell at, run after, and try to teach at the same time. This year I have had three-year-olds bestowed upon me. Yes, I would have preferred five or even six year olds, but first why don’t we first see what we have to work with?

Liz, another teacher from England, and I are sharing the large group of three-year-olds in two different classes. Let’s take a look at a few of the characters.

The first character in this group is more of a category that every single child falls into at some point the “I want my Mommy” child. Yes, every little one at some point in the day, sometimes all at the same time, will suddenly without warning burst into tears yelling, “I want my Mommy!” or “I have to go home!” At first, Liz and I were understanding. “Oh, of course you want your Mommy. You are only three. Let me give you a hug and rub your back so you feel better.”
By the fourth day, we had a different response. “Oh, come here, you big baby. What’s so great about your Mommy anyway? Come on, she sent you to school at three years old! Think about it!”

Another character is the oh-so-delightful Lara, the racist three-year-old. That’s right, I said racist. While most little ones (although we are not speaking their native language) have warmed up to us during our singing of childish songs with silly gestures. Not Lara, the minute that Liz or I say one word in her direction she automatically looks back with a dirty look as if we are idiots, turns her head completely away, or starts crying until a Turkish person comes to comfort her. One day when only Liz and I were in the class she literally stood by the door looking out as if there were bars there and she were in prison. Probably she wanted to be as far away from us dirty foreigners as she could be. Only time will tell with this one. At least it’s rather funny.

Next, we have the Tornado. This child is a little boy, also a twin, who reeks havoc wherever he goes. He moves around the classroom arms flailing and legs kicking until he has left a trail of small plastic plates, legos, and whatever else has gotten in his way. And yes, when you try to stop him, he hits you too, and is not afraid to bite, if necessary. Luckily, this little guy is causing a storm in Liz’s class instead of mine.

Then, we have Murat. He absolutely must hold the record for longest natural eyelashes on a child, if not an adult.. Liz and I have been thinking hard on a way to “bottle it up” and sell whatever is making this little boy’s eyelashes grow so long and flowing. We know we could make millions in the cosmetic market. I wonder if his parents would mind experimentation during our weekly “Science Time” in class.

Our final character for today will be Daghan who also has a world record: record for the most spoiled child in the world. He is nearing four and still in diapers. My guess is that he refuses to even look at a potty, and his parents can’t be bothered to force him to do anything. When you tell him to clean up something, he screams at the top of his lungs as if you are beating him. Everything that comes into his sight belongs to him. A lego - “It’s mine!” A car - “It’s mine!” A teacher - “It’s mine! It does what I say!”
I get immense pleasure from taking things out of his hands. Is it the right thing to do? Well, who cares! I’m the teacher!

We are only three weeks into the semester, and everyone, including me, is really just settling in. We are trying to figure out how things work, how to manipulate each other into getting what we want, and at the same time trying to throw in a few English words from time to time. Good luck everyone!

Disney World

2011-09-03T15:47:00.000+07:00

It’s our last day in Marmaris for the summer. This is a summer that for me has been totally devoted to time off. I haven’t worked in almost three months, but I’m starting work on Monday.

I have spent the past month and a half in the scorching heat of this city, and there has been a change. Before coming to Marmaris this summer, I had the mindset that I really enjoyed being in Marmaris. There are lots of European tourists with funny accents who go on “Safari” trips to see squirrels in the woods, drink a lot of cheap beer, and roam around Marmaris singing songs and making fools of themselves. What’s not to love about that? I have always felt that Marmaris thoroughly entertained me.

After a month and a half, I have seen what Marmaris really is. It is not all Marmaris’ fault that I have such a negative attitude. Some of the blame does lay with me and my inability to entertain myself without a social life in unbearably hot weather. However, the rest of the blame does fall on Marmaris. It comes down to this. Marmaris is a fake town. Although it is lies on a backdrop including beautiful water that is a mix of the Mediterranean and Aegean seas and beautiful tree-covered mountains sprouting up around it, these, too, appear fake when considering what the city itself holds. If you walk around, you run across pubs boasting “proper English breakfast” and blasting English football matches at full volume. You find shops with “genuine fake” Louis Vutton, Prada, etc. If a tourist would buy it or be intrigued by it, you can find it in Marmaris. Marmaris looks like what Britain would be if the weather were nicer. In fact, the only positive thing I can say is that at least you can, in the summer, find really good Indian food.
Marmaris does not include the slightest drop of what Turkey is and does. The only thing Turkish about it is the occasional Turkish word spoken between co-workers while trying to hassle tourists.

I suppose I can’t blame the Turkish people. They are just trying to make some money off a group of tourists who couldn’t care less about culture. They are just trying to enjoy the conveniences of home in a hotter climate. When did this all begin? Whose fault is it really?

It has even occurred to me that the wide, brown boring plains and dirty black city walls of Diyarbakir are, in fact, much more beautiful than the sea and city of Marmaris. Because although Diyarbakir is slightly dirty, slightly crass, unkempt and brutal, it doesn’t try to hide behind a mask of what it is not. Diyarbakir is a real Turkish and Kurdish place with culture bursting from the seams. Marmaris is an imaginary world, a world that someone with the same mentality as Walt Disney created to make money. This month and a half has moved me to dislike Marmaris almost completely.

Again, some of it is my fault. If I had a few friends or if I had places to be, I might enjoy the life more. Instead, however, I have a smile on my face at the idea of leaving tomorrow and not coming back. If I do come back, no more than two weeks. If I do come back, it must be with the mentality that I don’t want to do anything productive with my life for that time. Perhaps I should take a lesson from the tourists.

Ramadan in Marmaris

2011-08-10T20:24:00.003+07:00

If you were unaware, the Muslim time of Ramadan is upon us, and all over the Middle East and the world there are Muslims participating in this holiday. If you don't know about Ramadan, I will give a brief explanation. You wake up before the sun sets to eat breakfast. While the sun is out you do not eat or drink anything, that is, you fast. When the sun finally goes down at the end of the day, you eat a meal known as "iftar" or basically a huge dinner. You do this every day for about a month. Why do you do this? This is a Muslim holy month which helps to remind you of how blessed you are and how others, the poor, unfortunate, etc. suffer.

There are several issues with Ramadan in Marmaris, especially since this year Ramadan began on August 1st.

First of all, Marmaris is a beach town in the south of Turkey, and it is unbelievably hot while the sun is up. The average temperature in August is around 37 or 38 degrees Celcius, about 100 degrees Fahrenheit. Not to eat even a bite of anything or drink even a sip of water all day long is hard enough. Now, if you are not working (like me) and at home most of the day, it might be possible not to take a drink of anything. If you are sitting on your chair not moving or falling in and out of sleep, you might be alright. However, if you are outside for more than five minutes, and if you are doing as little as walking, let alone hard labor, a lack of water is not just difficult, it is a health issue that could send you to the hospital. My advice: allow yourself some water. Do they? I can not be sure.

Second of all, in summer Marmaris is huge party town. Tourists from Great Britain, Germany, Russia, and many parts of Turkey come to enjoy the sea as well as the nightlife. One of the mosques rests quite near the end of bar street, for example. Bar street in Marmaris has a couple dance clubs which blare music at such high volumes it is a wonder that people don't go deaf when they are actually inside. The apartment I am staying in is about two blocks away from supposedly the "biggest night club in Turkey," and you have to really focus on tuning out the loud thumps and voice of Jennifer Lopez in order to sleep. Do I sound like an old fart saying that I wonder how people can stand it when they are in there right in front of the speakers? By the way, the party doesn't stop until about half past three in the morning.

An interesting thing happened, the thing that actually prompted me to write this blog. I was sitting here in the living room last night when the time for Iftar came. The Imam in the mosque began singing his Ezan for all to hear, for all to pray and for all to break their fast. Right in the middle of the "Allaaaaaah," I hear the distinct voice of Rihanna making her own call "Na, na, na, na, na Come on!" and so on and so forth. There is no doubt in my mind that certain people the world over would be highly offended by Rihanna's interruption at this holy time. I wonder if there are any places in Saudi Arabia, Cairo, etc. where you might experience this same scene. What can you say to that? This is Marmaris. While some people are worried about the grace of Allah, others are worried about selling drinks to English blokes at the bar.

aaahhh!

2011-08-06T22:14:00.003+07:00

I'm officially in the middle of a nervous breakdown. I think it all started in the beginning of June when I thought it would be a good idea to say good-bye to a perfectly good job. Then, I went home to the US and got hit in the face with all these ideas about security, job security, fighting the good fight every day even if you don't like your job. Don't quit!
I threw my head back and laughed at that nonsense. That's not for me, I live overseas! What a silly concept!

I started job searching just after Toni got married on, let's say, June 13th. Today is August 6th. I am not anywhere closer to having a job. I have turned down three different offers because of visa issues with my husband. I can not even find a job in Turkey other than in Istanbul, but we are attempting to be done with Istanbul. I am frightened.

Every day now consists of getting up, eating breakfast, and scouring the internet for jobs in countries that will accept my Turkish husband. I feel so lost.

Thinking about moving back to the US is just as much, if not more of a hassle. Is no one friendly anymore? Doesn't anyone have trust anymore? Trying to get your husband to your own country is like trying to bring the dead back to life - impossible!
Ok, I am exaggerating, it is not impossible, but the paperwork will be coming to a stack so high that you can not even see over the top of it. Come on, people, is this how we should treat guests? loved ones?

It isn't that I don't have any prospects, it just seems like even the ESL world has turned against those teachers without actual teaching certificates, and they used to love us! They used to bow at our feet and beg for our services!
Now they spit on us or even worse, ignore us completely.

Every day I feel sad that I quit that job now. I loved that job, but I understand why I did it. I wished for something greater, something new. At times I want to go crawling back to them, or at least crawling back to Istanbul. "Please have mercy! Please!" I might shout, "Oh, Gods of the ESL world, shun me no longer, I beg of you!"

On the other hand, I'm sure that great and new things are in store for me, for us, but for now you can find me in front of my computer, desperately pecking at the keyboard, seeking the approval of the email senders, sweating running down my face.

our day

2011-08-03T23:38:00.000+07:00

Our Wedding Day

We became officially engaged on Monday, July 25th in the evening. Levent bought a bottle of wine, and took me to the seaside in Icmeler, Marmaris. We drank wine and talked in the same spot where I first told him that I loved him. He proposed, and I said “Yes.”

The day of our actual wedding, Tuesday, August 2nd, began with a trip to the hospital for the required pre-marriage health check. We had already taken care of the other paperwork, and this was the last prerequisite. However, we were informed after the nurse took our blood that the results would not be in until that afternoon, making it impossible for us to be married that afternoon. We really wanted the marriage to be that day though because Levent’s sister Yasemin and his two nephews, Davin and Sidar, would be leaving to go back to Switzerland the following afternoon.
Luckily, we explained our situation to the doctor, and he said that if we were sure about our decision before seeing our blood test results, he would sign the form. He signed it, and we ran it over to the court house for processing. We arrived at the court house around 10:30 am, and we signed up to get married at 4 pm.

I had planned to wear a white skirt with a brown flower pattern, and a nice brown shirt. However, when I got home, I found that the brown shirt had a stain so Levent said he would take me out to buy something else. I agreed, and we quickly went out to the shops near our house to find something. At this point, I was thinking white dress. I looked through a few stores, but I chose a white, summer dress that I found in the very first store. It was simple and knee-length, perfect for our day.

We took all of our things, the rings, clothes, and things over to Levent’s mother’s house. Yasemin bought me a bouquet of daisies, and Nazire, Levent’s mother, bought wedding chocolates for us to give out to our guests.

We went back to the house, ate lunch, and got ready. Fusun, my witness/Levent’s brother Firat’s co-worker, joined us there. Nazire, Gani (Levent’s father), Yasemin, and Firat gave us their gifts which included some money, Nazire’s diamond ring, and a pair of beautiful earrings from Yasemin.
I put on my white dress, earrings that Pam gave me, and my Rainbow flip-flops. Levent wore a pair of light gray pants, a black and blue checkered shirt, and black Converse type shoes. I took my flowers, and we all drove over to the court house in two cars.
I was nervous, and I think Levent was nervous, too. At the same time, I felt ready. I had already been looking at this man as if he were my husband.

Levent, Firat, Nazire, Gani, Yasemin, Davin, Sidar, Fusun, Dogan (Levent’s witness and Nazire’s cousin), and I waited in a small office for the man who would marry us. It was a simple room with a desk and a few chairs and pictures on the wall. Just past four the man walked into the office with a notebook and an official robe. We began. Yasemin snapped pictures, and he welcomed everyone to our marriage. He said a few things and then asked me if I, under no pressure, would like to marry Levent Unal, and I said “Evet.” (Yes.) He asked Levent if he, under no pressure, would like to marry Stephanie Szkaradnik, and he said, “Evet, istiyorum.” (Yes, I do want to.) After this, we signed our names on the form, and I stomped Levent on the foot. It is a tradition that whoever stamps the other on the foot will have the power in the relationship, so with lots of encouragement from Davin, I did so. Levent then signed his name as well. The witnesses then signed the forms, and the man declared that we were husband and wife. Everyone clapped, and we smiled.

After that, we ate the chocolate Nazire had bought. Everyone hugged and congratulated us. We shared one kiss for everyone, and then we walked outside into the blistering Marmaris heat. We took a few pictures by the sea, most of which unfortunately did not turn out very well.

Finally, we went together to celebrate and eat dinner at Dogan’s restaurant. Davin put our rings on our fingers for us in the car on the drive over. Dogan’s son, Berk, his wife, Filiz, and their daughter Havin also joined us. We drank some wine, and talked. I ate pineapple pizza, and Levent ate pizza with onions, peppers, and olives.

Now I have a second family, and it feels really wonderful. They have been and continue to be welcoming and open and loving. Sidar, who is ten years old, is now referring to me as “Stephanie Yenge” (Aunt Stephanie) in his adorable, high-pitched voice. I absolutely love it.

The small ceremony was really wonderful in its simplicity. It was exactly what we wanted to do, and I really enjoyed the intimacy.

Levent and Stephanie, August 2nd, 2011

to tie the knot

2011-07-29T19:37:00.002+07:00

Ever since I started this blog and maybe even before that I have considered myself, if not the ultimate, then one of the ultimate single and free females in the world. Yes, I've traveled around by myself and with friends thinking of just myself and my freedom. At times I've even donned the "Men are shit" cap and worn it proudly. Definitely not a Samantha Jones, but maybe something of a Miranda Hobbes.
Now this self-proclaimed "ultimate single girl" is coming up on two years of being in a relationship. Levent and I have decided that the next step for us in our relationship due to both the way we feel and a need to be practical since we are from two different countries with different status in the world is marriage.

However, I have bad-mouthed marriage for many years as an outdated and unnecessary concept so one might wonder why Levent and I have decided to move down this road. The road that held the "Wrong Way" sign for such a long time. I will now attempt to explain this decision after so many opinions I have heard about marriage, what it is, and what it means.

To be perfectly honest, I still do not believe in the idea of marriage. I do not believe that you can promise to pledge your life to someone else and their happiness for the rest of your life. I find this idea basically impossible. No one can make a promise to do something ten years down the road. Life doesn't work like this.
I still find it hard to understand when people say you should get married "for the right reasons." Perhaps they have a belief in something higher and greater that helps out during sad and troubled times. I can see where this would be a significant crutch to lean on, but it is not one that I hold.
I find the only "right reasons" for being married to be legal and put upon us by organized religion, society and government and therefore not applicable.

This being said, I can most assuredly say that I do believe in love. I do believe in Levent. I do believe in myself. I do believe in us. We have been together for two years, and our love and friendship has grown every day. We have learned to live together, to be aware of each other's needs, to share, and we have found a great happiness in it. I can look into his eyes and watch his actions, and they give me no doubt at all that he loves me.
It has not always been easy, but it has shown me that I don't want to be without him anymore.
On my travels from now on, I want him to be next to me to share everything. When I make decisions, I want him to be there so we can decide together.

Does all of this guarantee a future of forever? No, it doesn't. Does this guarantee that a legal document that says we are married will bind us forever? No, it doesn't.
All "marriage" does for us is guarantee in a legal sense that we should not have to be separated at borders, etc.

The relationship part, however, as my mother told me, is up to us. This is why when Levent proposed marriage to me last week, I raised my glass of wine to toast to a unique and creative life together that is all our own.

return

2011-07-23T23:40:00.002+07:00

After surviving the Russian prison hotel, I have made it safely back to Turkey. I arrived at the Istanbul airport at 1:00 in the morning and made it to Jenny's house about 2:30 am. After that I tried to sleep knowing I'd be waking early for a full day of errands and flying to Marmaris. Sadly, my jet lag and excitement did not allow it, and my alarm called for me after some 2 hours of sleep. Fortunately, walking around in Istanbul early in the morning is one of my favorite things to do. I was out of the house at 6:45 am to take to the lovely, empty streets.
I finished up the picture taking and research for the guide that I had left out, I met Kleri for a quick coffee, and then I met Saime for breakfast. The breakfast was both nice and sad. Saime said she would have liked to keep working with me at Kids (my school from last year), and I felt very much the same. Unfortunately (and also fortunately), my torch has shown over a different path.

The reunion with Levent was both fantastic and scary. For some reason, while collecting my baggage I became so nervous and started shaking. I did not know how I would feel upon seeing him, and my heart was beating out drum choruses in my chest.
When I did see him, it was as though I did not recognize him. After 5 weeks of staring at his two-dimensional face on a computer screen, he looked so different, so much more real. Since that time we have spent very little time apart and have sworn never to be separated by more than fourteen days again. We are still planning to get married, and we await the documents in the mail.

Now that I have returned to "life" here, things have been moving. I have not been bored as I usually do when I am not working. However, in a sense I have been working. My days are passing as follows. I wake up around 8 am to overbearing heat. I have breakfast and go swimming or play games in the pool with Levent's nephews. Afterwards, I come back to the house to work on my Istanbul guide which is now just mere hours away from completion. Then, I continue on the never-ending search for a new job.

This search has taken me on skype interviews to Czech Republic, Ukraine and Poland. It is hard to express my disappointment. Since I am no longer single, and my significant other is not from a native English speaking country, Europe, even Eastern Europe lies on a rocky path for us. It looks difficult to overcome the hump without a 2 to 3 month separation where his status is decided by the Polish government. Sadly, we can not stand this.
All hope is not lost, but still.

From this point, I have been on the computer for hours each day seeking out my normal websites and any new ones I can find in search of jobs in Turkey, jobs in countries Levent could travel to easily, Russia, Thailand, South America. I can not even recall the amount of jobs I have applied to over the past week. Sadly, the offers have not been piling up as I would have liked, and we are at a bit of a stand-still.
We need to leave Marmaris, and we need to start somewhere. Where to begin? I will not let this get me down now. I will be consumed by the thought that our lives are opening up before us in a new and exotic place called..... home.

hotel prison Moscow

2011-07-14T18:07:00.002+07:00

It all started with a two hour delay on a Russian Airlines flight from New York to Moscow with continuing service to Istanbul. A two hour delay in New York turned into three and a half hours. Although they promised that the connection in Istanbul would still be there, we missed it by fifteen minutes. We took the news complaining about the impatience of certain pilots and/or airlines. Our flight was scheduled to leave at 9:50 am. The next flight to Istanbul leaves at 11:10 pm. That is equal to basically twelve hours of wait time, oh fantastic.
There we sat - 2 Americans, 2 Turks, an Albanian guy, and 3 Greeks. The lovely people of Aeroflot (Russian airlines) then informed us with smile-less faces that they would be sending us to a hotel until we needed to be back at the airport. Well, that's something, we thought.

It was then that the man informed the two Turks, who do not need visas to enter Russia, that they could go to a separate hotel with freedom to stroll around Moscow all day. The rest of us, however, were not so free. This is the first time that I have ever had more restraint than a Turkish person. I'm not saying this to be mean. The international rules tend to play to the American's favor, but sadly not this time. Damn visa laws.

It was then that the five of us who remained were escorted through a security check and onto a little bus to get shuttled to our hotel. They told us that we were without visas and therefore restricted to the hotel premises. We were waiting for the handcuffs. My cell mate, I mean, roommate, the other American girl named Wendy, asked if the hotel had a pool. "Yes, it does," replied the gentleman, "but you can't use it." Wendy asked if we could eat something. "We will come and escort you to the dining room at 2 pm."

Upon entering the hotel area, with several escorts surrounding us, we found that not only were we restricted to the hotel, but not allowed to go anywhere other than the 3rd floor. We were yet again escorted up to said 3rd floor where we met the hall security guard who looks after the prisoners, I mean, visa-less transit passengers.

When Wendy and I got up to our room we were greeted with a sheet of paper giving the rules for transit passengers. For example, if you want to smoke a cigarette you are allowed to go downstairs once an hour for five minutes at the beginning of the hour. At least they do us the honor of having Wi-Fi so I can tell you about it though.

When it was time for lunch, someone did escort us on to the elevator, which by the way is the back elevator, not used for real guests. When we got off the elevator someone was there to escort us. He shooed us across the hall to his companion to escort us to eat. When the dinner hour was finished, someone came to get us and take us back to the elevator.

Now, I'm sitting here in my cell, I mean, room looking out over what I can see of Moscow but can not touch. It's really just airport buildings, but still. Everything is alright now because I'm exhausted from the flight and really just want to lie down in bed and sleep. Otherwise, this prison hotel would be murder.

I guess it is a nice prison, considering there are big beds and a hot shower, but I don't think I'll stay.

define hometown

2011-06-30T07:06:00.003+07:00

Since I moved away from my hometown, my city of birth, the place of my origin, Philadelphia, I have always tried to keep it with me. I have always claimed it when I get that very common question, "Where are you from?"
Still when I come back to the city I find myself reaching out to it, not just with touch but with my mind and my heart as well. What I am reaching for is a spot to really call "home." I have been groping in the darkness.
The last time I visited the neighborhood I grew up in in Northeast Philadelphia, I was with Chris and Jen. We drove through the area during The Great Jersey Summer one day, and my reaction was to burst into tears. I don't think I stopped crying until we left. It looked so small, like one of those mini neighborhoods you might see in Disney World or something. At the same time, it looked beautiful. The tears were pushed out by memories, perhaps, the love I have for my childhood there.

And yet, do I love this city as a home? Whenever I come here I try to feel how I fit in with the people who live here. Can I consider myself a true Philadelphian after all this time? For some reason, I always end up feeling intimidated by it, as if I were an outsider and not a native to this great city.

I realized it the other day when I was walking around with my Dad. He talked about the city and how happy he was to have moved back and be a part of it again. He spoke with passion and joy. He looked like Philly, and that is when I realized that Philadelphia is not "my city" like it is my Dad's, among others. I have been trying to force my feelings for it and its feelings for me. I don't have a connection with Philadelphia, and so I have finally given up the struggle for this relationship.

Now I know that it is my hometown in the dictionary sense and I am happy to declare it, but it doesn't belong to me or me to it. My connection with Stone Harbor and Avalon in New Jersey is by far much stronger. I can tell simply by how wonderful I feel it is to be here looking over the wetlands or riding my bike up and down the numbered streets staring at the houses. I can even tell by a stroll up 96th street by the Henna Shop, where I worked six years ago before I started my traveling journey.
And if you have read my blogs at all, you probably know the other city which claims my attachment. I don't need to say it, do I?

And so how is it that we define this word "hometown?" Is it simply the name for the place we were born? Maybe a hometown is a city you find that feels like you, moves like you, speaks like you. Maybe you or I or we have not discovered our hometowns yet.
Because of my constant moving and perhaps also as a child of divorce, I have not felt I could point to one spot and say "home."
I think a hometown is a place that envelopes you and yet gives you wings. It doesn't want to keep you, but it wants you to come back. I think it is a place that offers itself to you and yet constantly keeps you searching for its secrets. I have felt that Philadelphia has its secrets, but to me it will not reveal them for we are not a match.

Perhaps those of us who are willing to go in search will find a number of them. They will teach us, and we will learn. We will teach them, and they will learn.

fish #81

2011-06-27T04:56:00.003+07:00

I have never really known how to swim properly, but several months ago Levent attempted to teach me. After that, we joined a gym with a pool, and because of my knee problems from running, I decided that swimming was the ideal exercise for me.
I couldn't pick it up from his words though, and after one and a half laps of freestyle stroke, I couldn't breathe. I found myself having to stop and come up gasping for breath. I was all breast stroke from then on.
A bit after that we had a lesson from a girl at the gym who swam on lots of club teams. She wasn't a qualified instructor, but she seemed to do the trick. I was able to swim 2 or 3 laps without having to come up gasping for breath.
Eventually, I worked my way up to 52 minutes straight freestyle stroke, and I was so proud.

When I arrived in Philadelphia this past week, my Dad mentioned this open water swim in the Jersey Shore bay that he wanted to do. I agreed that I would try as well. I've improved, let's see what the open water feels like.

As it turned out, I got one day of practice in the quiet bay outside my Dad's house and then found out that the swim was actually Friday night. I hadn't been mentally prepared for the the date switch, but I decided to go for it anyway. No time like the present, as my Dad always says.

The course was in the bay, not pool water, but not the ocean. There was a long triangle in the water marked off by three large yellow balloon buoys. When we arrived at the bay, the wind was blowing, the water was choppy, and I received several warnings that it was gonna be a tough one. Well, I thought, here I am, and I've got to try. I was nervous, not marathon nervous, but still.
We signed up, and I got my t-shirt. I walked around looking at the other swimmers. They were mostly high school age kids who were on swim teams and older people who do these kind of swims and races here. I zipped up my wet suit, put on my yellow swim cap #81, and got lost in the sea of other yellow heads.

The horn sounded and off we went. Lots of people jumped right into their smooth strokes as I waited for people to clear out so I could swim at a slow pace and enjoy myself. The waves however would not stop throwing water in my mouth, and I ended up doing a pathetic breast stroke towards the first buoy thinking I would never finish this race. After I started to feel more comfortable, I went for my new and improved freestyle stroke, three arm strokes and one breath. Water found its way into my mouth nonetheless. This is never gonna work, I thought. I went back to pathetic breast stroke. Damnit, why does that 2nd buoy have to be so far away?

Finally an idea dawned on me... two strokes, one breath. I managed to make some progress this way although the waves did their best to push me off course. I made it to buoy number 2 with my combination open water free stroke and rest stroke. After I circled this one, I got excited though because now it was just the last (albeit longest) stretch before the end. As the current pushed me towards the shore I freestyled it, watching the trees go by. I had one setback when the I mistook the approaching dock for the finish line when it was just the midpoint.

I got there though, and then I knew I would finish. Eyes searching through dirty green, arm over, eyes on the trees, arm over, look in, look out. The real victory though was when I discovered how to swim, breathe and check my progress ahead of me all in my stroke just about the last ten minutes of the race. I made it to the finally buoy and then went as hard as I could towards the shore. I came out of the water and passed the cones at 44:48. Fourth in my age group!. . . (Unimportant side note: 4th out of 5).

I felt so great and so exhausted, another accomplishment in my post-university athletic career. The next step: Triathlon.

progress reports

2011-05-29T23:41:00.002+07:00

Since I haven't blogged in quite some time, I am posting an update:

School: We started our parent-teacher meetings this week which can only mean one thing, the school year is coming to a very sudden, abrupt end. Well, it is for me since I am scooting out a bit early. Makes me sad. Saime and I are sitting across from the over-stressed mothers who are trying to decide where to send their five-year-olds and saying almost the same thing. "He/She is wonderful. He/She will be fine wherever you send him/her." This is true, nothing else to say. He/She is five.
What makes me the most sad is seeing the mothers broken up because when they say they will miss "this place," our school, what they are really saying is they will miss the childhood they see moving by so fast. He/She is slowly but surely slipping out from all of our fingertips day-by-day. This is apparently not an easy thing for mothers. Hell, it's hard for me, too. I know I'm going to miss those children and I've only been around them for 9 months. More and more good-byes.

Wedding: I am preparing for the wedding, uh, sort of, in my own out-of-the-country-right-now kind of way. My Maid of Honor speech is at least definitely in the works. My dress and shoes are waiting for me to try them out, and my dress (among others) is hoping it won't be making an emergency trip to the tailor the day before the wedding because it doesn't fit right.
I've even got my nails mostly prepared for Manicure/Pedicure Friday. Unfortunately I recently had to bite the one on my right index finger, but it should have time to grow back before then.

Guide: I am spending most spare moments in the evening and on weekends devoted to this guide. I am trying to get all picture taking done before I leave for the US so that I can just focus on writing and my excel sheet when I get there. When I am not picture taking I am thinking of the guide. I am thinking of places to go, secrets of Istanbul (though they will never all be truly revealed to any of us), anything, and I am loving it. Today I left the house at 9:30 am and got home and 6 pm. Full-time job anyone?
Google Earth is my new best friend.

Free Time: I managed to squeeze a few minutes of free time in between eating and sleeping and thinking about the guide to write this blog, and here I am still thinking of it, oops... so much for free time.

Istanbul: Writing this guide is a fantastic and yet sad way to say my temporary good-bye to Istanbul. In fact, every time I finish a section I feel a little bit sad that our time together is over. My main areas of interest are Sultanahmet, Eminonu, Taksim, Karakoy, Galata, Kadikoy, Besiktas, Bostanci, Ortakoy and Rumeli Hisari. As of today they are all finished except Ortakoy and Rumeli Hisari and one museum in Karakoy.
You might ask why I say "temporary good-bye." I have asked myself to say good-bye to Istanbul so far in my life twice, and I have been back. Here I sit now. Istanbul. Home. I have had many homes, and Istanbul is a permanent one... not in the sense that I will be settling down here. I don't know that I could actually live in this city forever. Yet I always find myself back here somehow. Maybe it's the Turkish boyfriend, but I believe it is something else, something stronger. Whenever I enter Istanbul, it welcomes me like an old friend, like a family member, like a home. It says "Hosgeldin, Stephanie. You belong here." So it is and shall be no matter how many times I return or how long I stay.

Don't you want to come and see this place I call home? Aren't you curious?

productive distractions

2011-05-11T00:07:00.002+07:00

It's Tuesday night, and it has been a long day. Woke up at 5 am to make breakfast, eat it, go to the gym, work out, and then spend the rest of the day with little children. Exhausted, yet not.

This morning I received my contract from the Digi-Guide company to develop my guide, and I was in a self-stricken panic to get it printed as soon as I can. You may not know that I am the anti-procrastinator. A lot of people (particularly procrastinators) might say this is a good thing, but believe me, it has its down sides. It stresses me out. I have no patience. When something needs to get done, I need to get it done now! Unfortunately my school day was too busy to print it, and we have no printer at the house so I live to stress another day.

The advantage of waking up at 5 am and completing your work day by 4:30 pm is that the rest of the evening is yours to do as you please. Now, I do not actually have any pressing engagements this evening, yet still I just stood in my bedroom for five minutes, my eyes looking toward the window, and my mind looking at everything else, every little piece of information in my brain. I am worried because I have to get out and around Istanbul and take my pictures, and that will mostly be on Sundays. I am hoping to have enough time to take all necessary pictures and note down all necessary information before I board the plane to the US in less than a month.

I won't have another free day to sit at home and relax basically until a few days after I get to New Bern, but really, do I want to sit at home and relax? Usually that makes me bored, so instead of boredom, I have stress! However, this is a good stress, a productive and mind-working stress that is leading me forward in my quest to put Istanbul on the digital telephone map.

Just don't expect to talk to me in the next month because I'll either be a) running after and yelling at little children, b) running around Istanbul with a camera or a notebook in front of my face, or c) standing in the middle of who knows where with a dazed look on my face. If I don't respond, you'll know I'm ok. :)

3 years of blogging and . . .

2011-05-06T22:38:00.003+07:00

There I sat, well we sat, but I was thinking of myself on our new path away from the old and onto Marmaris. I scanned the preschools, private schools and universities in the area. With every click of the mouse I grew more and more reluctant. Is this what I want? Another job telling kids to look at this piece of fruit and call it an apple or at that object and call it a ball. I started to lean away from it like the odor coming from a port-a-potty.
Randomly I decided to take a detour from googling "marmaris preschools" and "marmaris english schools" to "writing" and "freelance writing jobs." I browsed through jobs involving copywriting and editing and blogging about finance and blah, blah, blah. Suddenly, though, something different caught my attention.

There was a company looking for writers for city travel guides that you can download from the internet. Click. There in black and white was the one word that called me, begged me even because it was my word. I know it; it knows me.
Istanbul.
Immediately I clicked on "Apply for this job" and posted my resume. They wanted a cover letter, and that I didn't have. Google - "sample cover letter." I got the basic idea and told the employer about my knowledge of Istanbul and my having been a blogger for three years now. Why not, I said, why not?

A day or so later I was doing a routine email check when I found that Jennifer, a partner in this travel guide company, was interested in interviewing me for the Istanbul Content Director position. We set it up - last Friday night - I prepared. I thought of all the places in Istanbul that I love. I thought of reasons that I would be the perfect fit for this job - because I love this city, because I know it, because it has gotten inside of me. We have a little something for each other, let's say.
The interview was good, casual. Jennifer described the program. You can find it on iTunes and download it directly into your phone. You can then use the phone as your guide (no thick books or large maps), it's all right there, and it works offline too. Basically it's a guided tour of a city inside your telephone. Brilliant, right?
The best part? I would get to design the guide just as I want. If you downloaded the guide, you would be able to see the Istanbul I know, experience and have experienced. It would be as if I myself was taking you through the city on a visit. You could go where I go, eat where I eat, see what I see in this strange paradise of a city.

Today I have been offered the job, and I have very gladly accepted it. Tomorrow I'll start - taking pictures of places I know and love and writing up the most interesting and useful things you need to know in a 150-200 word paragraph. Short and sweet and good to know.

So come along with me, as you have been doing, my lovely blog followers...to and through Istanbul and beyond....

72 hours

2011-04-23T17:52:00.002+07:00

It all started with ten missed calls while I was at work on Wednesday, and I never have more than zero missed calls on any normal day. Hey, wait a minute, why is my boyfriend's mother calling me so much? She called me before on my birthday once, but that was it.
When I finally did talk to her she was in an uproar about something Levent had said to his father. Was Levent depressed? Was everything ok?
Well, I said, he has been sad about not liking his job but that's all I know.
Strange.

When I met Levent after work that day he told me he had resigned. In that matter of an hour or just a bit more, we stepped off our path and were swept up by the wind only to land in a completely different place.

As of Wednesday morning I was planning to start at Sabanci University in Istanbul for a Master's in Culture Studies. Levent was planning to stay another year at his job and save money and possibly start applying to universities for his Master's. We were planning to go to the gym until next March. He was planning to apply for the visa to the US and come for a visit this summer. We were planning to stay in Istanbul. We were planning to stay in the same apartment in Sisli.

Now, our plans, have flipped around, turned inside out and landed us on some new path and all in less than 72 hours we are headed in a completely different direction.

In this 72 hours we have talked out and re-formed our plans. We have spoken to our landlord and put an advertisement up to sell our gym memberships for this coming year. Levent took scissors to every single one of his ties, swearing that he'll never wear one again. Good for him. :)

What is our new plan you might ask?
There is a beach town in the south of Turkey that you might know called Marmaris where Levent's family lives some part of the year. Our new direction has pointed us there, and we are planning to move there for this coming year. At the beginning of June when I leave for the States for Toni's wedding and for visiting everyone, he will go to Marmaris and stay with his family until I get there and we look for a cheap apartment to rent.
I am contacting preschools there, and hopefully he'll be able to teach some private lessons in guitar or piano.
At the same time, because we both have dreams of studying again we will start applying to universities in the US for our Master's. Perhaps New York, Philadelphia, San Franscisco, oh the possibilities.

After all this time, I have finally realized what I want to study exactly, what is important to me and where my career lies. Traveling and culture is in my soul now, as is psychology and the study of the mind. Writing is a third and integral part of that as well. I intend to focus on women and their role and perceptions of life, love, etc. in their given culture, and I intend to write about it. Think I can find something like that? :)

One thing that this 72 hours has shown me once again is the freedom we all have, the chances we can take that are available to us when we don't put those imaginary chains on ourselves that are actually quite strong.
I am so proud of Levent for quitting something that he hated even though it was secure and safe. He took the difficult way out and though we are now a bit scared because we don't know what's gonna happen, life is more fun that way. :)
In the mean time, I'll hopefully be spending a number of months in a cute little apartment by the sea where it never gets too cold, a little bit of paradise perhaps.

exploration

2011-04-19T23:25:00.003+07:00

Usually when I take the time to stop for a moment in my four-year-old class and look around at all the children it's either to a) cast an annoyed glance in all directions because no one is listening and everyone is wreaking havoc on Saime and me, or in the opposite way b) to see what everyone is doing and revel in how beautiful and wonderful each child is.
Usually when I take the time to stop for a moment in my two-year-old play group and look around at all the children it's either a) to laugh at the huge joke someone must be playing on us to start all the kids crying and yelling "Mommy!" at once or b) to watch how these little ones interact with others or how they play by themselves. Usually I look with very interested and intrigued eyes, and I think to myself, what exactly is the two-year-old child? Why is it always pulling toys away from other children and saying "This is mine!" (the only intelligible words coming out of its mouth as of now)? Why is it making these noises, and why does it miss its mother so much? Also, why is it so easily distracted by a little orange car or a plastic piece of fruit? From a psychology viewpoint, it's a little piece of experimental heaven.
I have been trying to figure out if the children are pulling toys away and claiming them as their own because they are rich, spoiled children or because they are operating solely on their ego as an immature being does, fulfilling its desires. Perhaps both.

Lately though my main area of interest has been how we the adults in the class interact with the children. Of course we have rules in the class. We try not to play favorites, and we try not to ignore anyone. Our main job really is to keep everyone happy and tearless, but we also have things that make us happy too.
For example, we are happy when all the kids sit in their chairs and look while Evrim is reading a story to them. We are happy when they clap along while I sing them a song. We are happy when they color on the paper during art time. We are happy when they play together. We are calm.
However, we do not like it when kids run around and grab toys while Evrim is reading a book. We do not like it when they turn around in their seats or ask for their mothers while we sing them songs. We do not like it when Buse sticks her whole hand into the glue instead of nicely applying it to the paper. We do not like it when they hit each other over a little piece of plastic.

Let's ask though, what are the reasons for our dislike? If a child gets out of their seat at reading time it's just annoying and rude. When the children go and grab toys and throw them on the floor we usually have to clean them up. When Buse sticks her hands in the glue we have to go through the hassle of taking her to the bathroom to clean them. When they hit each other we have to stop them because we are "responsible adults" and because the parents might be watching.

We yell at them to stop. We pick them up. We look at them with our evil eyes. In this way, they learn. Now, though, I feel doubt about it.

I don't know if I will have kids of my own, but if I do there is something I'd like to do different. I hope, if I can, to forego the annoyance and let the child be.
Is it so wrong for Buse to put her hands in the glue if she wants to and if she likes the feel of it? Is it wrong for Volkan to stand up and get a different book at reading time? Is it unhealthy for us to open the door when it's raining outside if Ares asks us to open it? Maybe he should go outside and feel it, why not?

Maybe the classroom setting is different from the home one - for them, for everyone, I don't know. I know, though, that I wouldn't want to raise a seated, clean-handed, quiet child. I would rather raise an explorer.

separate, but equal?

2011-04-09T15:12:00.002+07:00

Istanbul is a city containing at least two worlds, if not more. It's divided by the Bosphorous Strait into two parts - the European side and the Asian side. It's coming up on a total of three years of living in this city in total though there was a break in the middle, a dividing line from Istanbul part 1 and part 2.
In 2007 I lived in Kadikoy on the Asian side. Now in 2011 I live in Fulya on the European side. Two sides and two Stephanies.
Kadikoy is what I consider to be the real Istanbul. It's full of history. It's along the water which has a beautiful view of very Turkish old buildings, beautiful mosques and towers. It has markets and old streets that seem to bring you back thirty years or so if you just walk on their stones. Everything is within walking distance, and you almost always run into someone you know.
Fulya is more modern. It looks like a completely different city. There are huge shopping centers, trendy people moving in and out of stores. People crowd the streets all day with a busy, no-nonsense look on their face. Mosques are hardly the center of attention, in fact, you barely notice until the call to prayer screams out from just up the street.

The Stephanie who lived in Kadikoy was not a vegetarian. She enjoyed working out yes, but she enjoyed a social life with dates, friends, beers, late nights and gossip. She spent a lot of time with Krisia (her roommate at the time) laughing at Turkish men, walking the streets of Kadikoy, and interacting with the city itself as if it were its own creature. This girl was happy.

The Stephanie of Sisli and Fulya works a lot more, exercises, is a vegetarian. She doesn't have as much of a social life, but she is in love with a man. She studies, writes, and reads. She enjoys her job generally. She bears resemblance to the one of Kadikoy, but something is different. Still, she is happy.

Last night Krisia came back for a visit - This Krisia (who resides in Denmark now) is changed just as Stephanie is, but they met last night in their old neighborhood just next to their old apartment to eat and drink tea among friends and Krisia's husband. Denmark Krisia and Fulya Stephanie met knowing that each had a different life yet still wanting to share it as good friends do, no matter where they live. Yet the surreal set in.

Going back to the old neighborhood, neither one felt any emotion really, no nostalgia or feeling from what had passed there, a friendship so deep, a magic that only Istanbul can pour over you.

It was the changes that were more apparent than anything else. A six-months-pregnant Denmark Krisia related information on pregnancy, childbirth and babies. Fulya Stephanie was interested and asked many questions but grew more and more afraid, anxious even about these changes. Denmark Krisia is diving in without reticence into a new life of motherhood while Fulya Stephanie's mind is set on studying and bringing back some of the social Stephanie.
This is life. Sometimes you stand and walk on the very same path with someone and they become like a soul mate to you, but then each is attracted by a new path and though the bonds are not broken they are strained somewhat. Though you don't let go of the rope, it has become a string.

Maybe all that's happening now is Stephanie's recognition of a path (motherhood, etc.) that may lay somewhere ahead of her, something she knows she is not ready for now and sometimes doubts if she ever will. The fact that it is right there in front of her at his moment, not allowing her to look away but forcing her to stare in wonder, brings it too close to reality. She struggles to push it far away but still be able to look with happiness and love into the eyes of her friend.

don't judge me by my resume

2011-03-29T00:02:00.003+07:00

This change has been biting at me, and finally its drawn blood. I decided some time in January that I want to study again, go to school, be a student, do something new. I'm applying to Sabanci University, a private university here in Istanbul, for a Master's in Cultural Studies.
Sure, sometimes I'm tempted to just stay at my preschool, earn money, and save money, but still the studies call.

Usually when I tell people that I'm going to pursue this degree they ask me the same question. "What are you gonna be able to do with that?" "What's that gonna do for your resume and for your career?"
Well, here I am to answer that question. Are you ready? As it turns out, it's the same as the answer to the level 3 difficulty GRE mathematical factorial 8!/2! x 17! which is . . .
I don't know!

I don't like this question - what's that gonna do for you in the future? Because no one can answer that. You can say, "Well then I'll be able to go here or do this or form this," but honestly you don't know that either.
I'm more a believer in the question "What's that doing for you right now?" All I know is that culture and travel are my passions, and if this degree does absolutely nothing for my "future" or my career, at least it'll be interesting along the ride. I know that when I read the program website and see the options for classes to take, I get excited, I feel the thirst for knowledge parching my throat. What more can you ask for?

I know that when I say I want to write and travel, it might look like an unrealistic option but my journal knows what my resume doesn't:
that Chinese is a fun language to try to speak...
that Taiwan holds a marble gorge
the real hilarity of being an English teacher in Istanbul
that Turkey is backwards and forwards at the same time
that Vietnam is a gorgeous place inside and out
what Tequila from Tequila, Mexico tastes like
what it feels like to bicycle around Angkor Wat
how it feels to ride a motorbike around Saigon
how unbelievably strange it is to be in India
where to search for an uncaged tiger
the view of Tbilisi

What do I expect a degree in Cultural Studies to do? Show me something new. :)

surprise!

2011-03-27T01:24:00.002+07:00

I've just come across a happy surprise while searching websites for vegetarian baked pasta recipes. I found one and then realized it was on a blog website. I then went to my own blog to find that it was re-opened! Joy! I just hope it won't turn out to be a hit or miss situation, ah, life in Turkey.

Unfortunately, I've lost all the good stories I probably had while the blog was temporary closed to me so let's just start off again with a trip around my mind if we think we can handle it. We'll go erratically as that's how my mind works.

In one corner we've got the GRE, Pythagorean theorem, find the sum of x, read this complicated, boring passage and answer impossible questions about it, what's the meaning of panegyric or quixotic? I'm only a few weeks away, and I might be ready, but I've got to cram in just a few more unnecessary big words and a couple more math principles.
The application process itself starts very soon, and I've got to be ready with my writing sample, my CV, my references, etc. I'm ready with all of that, but am I ready?

I can't help but look to the future, and when I do that, I can't help but look a bit further. Next year and the following year. Can I stay here 2 more years, can we stay here 2 more years? I know we've got at least one more year, and my mind is urging me on to the change. Not only for the intellectual and career benefits, but because I've got to get these kids out of my head.
I've realized that my job is taking over my mind, and it's not necessarily a bad thing, just overwhelming. I spend all day at school. I have fun, I laugh, I raise my voice, I make sure they don't hurt themselves and each other, I think of fun things to do for them, but at the end of the day when I get home, I don't let go of it. I don't leave it at work. I keep thinking about the kids, telling stories to Levent about what they've done. They start showing up in my dreams.
I've just realized I've got about two months left, and I'm gonna miss them a lot. It makes me really sad, and I don't know where to put that. As life probably has it, I won't see them again and though it's better that way, they will be difficult to leave behind. Children grow. People grow. I grow. What do I do with my love for them? I suppose I send it to them over the distance and maybe they'll know, hopefully they'll feel it. They are too young to understand it now but never too young to know they are loved.

How I would love to see them grow. It's something that makes me want to stay at the school - at least to watch my playgroup kids grow one more year, but we've all got our own growing to do.

dissident daughter in the works

2011-02-26T23:23:00.003+07:00

I've been truly captivated as of late, captivated by words and by a voice. My brother sent me this book, "Dance of the Dissident Daughter," by author Sue Monk Kidd. You might know this lady from The Secret Life of Bees. I have read that one and though I enjoyed it, I didn't really appreciate it so much for it's message.
Now that I'm in the middle of the Dissident Daughter, I understand more and I see more clearly. The back cover of this book tells you that Kidd was "a conventionally religious, churchgoing woman, a traditional wife and mother" who took a spiritual journey to become, you could say, a woman in the fullest sense. She began to question all she'd been taught in Christianity and in life about a woman's role and found some incredible answers and a beautiful road.

The questions she asked were for example, why is this "God" a male? Why do we follow a book written centuries ago by men? Why don't we question these? Where is the female divinity?

Kidd speaks from her own experiences growing up, to a role in church, to having to change her writing career path from Christian inspirational to something more real for her.
She uses specific examples such as the story of a family going hiking. The father takes his son down to the rushing water to put his hands in and feel the strength of the water moving. When his daughter asks to go, he says no because it's too dangerous.
Or sitting on a plane next to a business woman with a briefcase. The pilot comes on the air to give flight information, and the pilot is a woman. The business woman says, "Oh, no, a woman pilot." Even women see the inferiority, stemming from our patriarchal society.

I won't go into detail on the journey that Kidd takes you through as you read because it's a lot, but I definitely recommend this book, not just for women, for everyone.

Kidd is in truth seeking a "Sacred Feminine," a higher power that is female and true for her. As for me, I'm not on a path like that, I don't think, but I enjoy reading about it. What I like is that I don't agree with everything that she says, but I do agree with some. This book has opened my eyes and mind more and made me see what I was blind to before.
One example is the forbidding of female priests in the Catholic church. If you had asked me weeks ago why there are no female priests in this religion, I would have said something like, "That's just how it is." Now, however, I am prone to question it, almost to the point of anger. What could possibly be the purpose of keeping women from the altar, the podium, the Oval Office, even. Why don't we get to the bottom of this and put it right?

Some of the things I didn't agree with were from her own childhood, feeling lesser than her brothers or not expected to achieve as much as them. I definitely did not and do not feel this way. I believe my parents treated me as an equal and encouraged me to be as successful and ambitious as humanly possible. What I hope this means is that things have started to change. Kidd is a generation older than me, and perhaps my generation of women is learning different. Perhaps we are the ones changing, growing, succeeding and being feminine at the same time. And when I say feminine I don't mean it in any way other than that we are being ourselves. We are being competitive, ambitious, funny, outgoing, introspective, sad, as we are. In essence, we are being human and female.

It's not that we need to be better than men or feel hostility toward them. After all, they are products of the same society as we are and perhaps need to take a journey of their own in masculinity and humanity. Basically we have to come to the understanding that we are our true and complete selves regardless of those around us. We are not completed by husbands, wives, boyfriends, girlfriends, fathers, mothers, etc. The only way to be complete is in your true self. Woman. Man. Human.

The most wonderful thing about this book is that even if you don't agree with her, she makes you think and makes you question. And after all one of the best things about life is the ability we have to be skeptics, to question, to learn, to grow and to know.
This is my thank you to Sue Monk Kidd for sharing her story.

USS Enterprise

2011-02-19T23:55:00.002+07:00

I've recently returned from a limited internet access vacation in the southern beach town of Marmaris in Turkey. It was really quite nice in a way to be removed from the distraction of the internet though I didn't get to blog, as you may have noticed.

Since my return from that beautiful sea port town several things have changed including my obligation to start working full days again. Another thing is that I no longer have access to my brother, one more piece of me, confidante, story sharer and life co-conspirator and philosophical analyst. One day I was skyping with him, the next day there was an email or two and after that gone, as if the wind stole in and ushered him out. Now, with no way to reach him, it's as if he has actually disappeared. It's not that I feel exactly saddened by it because when I think really hard, when I focus on it, I feel like he is ok, generally. It's as if I know that he will return. It's not a feeling like there has been a death or a person kidnapped, but that of a person on a journey in a Jules Verne novel to the center of the earth or somewhere like that. I think he is traveling to the center of his own earth, and he's gonna see some difficult things there but some positive and encouraging ones as well. How do I know this? Maybe what I feel is the truth because we all dove in with internal smiles, or maybe it's just what I want to or need to believe for him. Either way, we'll see when he makes it through to the other side and digs out into.. China?

So after our communication was cut off, what should pull up to the shores of Marmaris, but the USS Enterprise, world's longest (and American) naval ship. I have never once met a sailor in Marmaris, let alone an American one. Yet suddenly there they all were, hundreds of them walking around the seaside and in and out of shops and cafes. Americans. Just at the perfect time, too when I had so many questions.

I looked at them all walking around - short ones, fat ones, tall ones, white ones, black ones, young ones, mostly young, and you know what I thought. All of these girls and guys look like a bunch of misfits. They reminded me of the kids you used to see in high school who had no particular social group - not the jocks or the preps or the goths but those "other ones." There they were, all the "other ones" packed into one boat moving around the global waters.

I could hardly contain my excitement, my need and urge to talk to at least one of them, not only because they were Americans but because not even days before Chris had joined their numbers. At the same time, I knew that their walking around meant they were on a sort of mini-vacation, one that I did not wish to disturb. After all, I was on vacation too, and I wouldn't have wanted some nosy, unrelenting person following me around asking me questions about what I did for a living.

One day though, I went shopping by myself and happened upon a group of them, lagging just behind, I jogged a bit to catch up, and the questions came bursting out.
"Excuse me," I said, "Do you mind if I ask you something?" I was super polite but so anxious and almost had trouble putting my sentences together. I started out with stupid questions. "Are you from the US? Are you in the navy? Did you come on the ship?"
Yes. Yes. Yes.
"I'm sorry to bother you, it's just that my brother just joined the Navy like 2 days ago, and I was just wondering about basic training and stuff."
I asked the guy where they had been, where they were going and how long they'd be here. All of which received very vague answers.
Next question: "How do you like the Navy?"
Answer: "It sucks."

Then we proceeded to talk about why it sucked and how long he'd been in the navy and what he did at basic training. It was "hard," and you had to do a lot of "butt-kissing" and cleaning, apparently.
I felt then though that I was about to overstay my welcome with this group of roamers, and I took my leave to go into a shoe shop nearby.

Yet still my mind wondered and my heart and soul yearned. There were many things I wanted to ask like "What time do you wake up in the morning?" "Do they yell at you?" "Have you made any good friends?" As if I could put my brother in this boy's shoes and when I asked this stranger I'd really be talking to Chris and learning everything about his experience. Now that he's there somewhere outside of Chicago with no internet access, we don't get to compare experiences anymore. There are so many things I want to discuss - studying for the GRE, joining the gym, the book I'm reading that he gave me, Jurassic Park, how I'm growing my hair out so I don't look like Justin Bieber anymore. I'm sure there is much he wants to tell me to, but sadly and yet joyfully, the journey is not yet complete.

disappointment all around

2011-01-29T18:19:00.002+07:00

Today I write to you not from where I thought I would be. I'm sitting in my bedroom with the door shut and the blinds open. I can't see anything though from there, not anything new. Had this day gone as planned I'd be probably in a car right now observing the dirty, crowded streets of Cairo, but as the world has it, I'm here in my bedroom in Istanbul, Turkey on a rainy and cold day.

Today is the first day of school vacation here. Day 1 of 16 which were to be spent half in Egypt and half in Marmaris. However, for the past 4 days riots have been erupting and spreading in cities all over Egypt. In fact, so bad that yours truly who normally would not cancel anything- for example, I refused to reroute my very first trip to Diyarbakir with 2 girl friends when we heard of terrorist activity there- has canceled. Perhaps it was stupid, perhaps I think I'm invincible, but I'm alive now writing this blog to you.
Last night's news, however, showed Levent and me that flying into Cairo today and trying to walk anywhere would most likely involve walking in a crowd of protesters and rioters. We quickly called my brother to have him cancel our flight only to find out an hour or so later that all flights to Cairo were canceled anyway. That was that. Nothing to do.

Now, if you know me, you probably know that I haven't been to a new country in about 6 months, and I'm itching for a new view.
I was disappointed in thinking of sights that have yet to be seen, food that has yet to be eaten, things that have yet to be learned, money down the drain. Cursing and angry.
Thirty years of Mubarak, and you have to revolt now? This week? Our week?

Yet it was then in my misery and bitterness that I was reminded of who the real disappointed are, who the real unlucky ones are - the Egyptians themselves. They revolt against corruption and mistreatment. They are shot at and they die. To be honest, I don't know the whole story of Mubarak and his government, but I wish for the people to be able to surpass their own disappointments in life and health. I wish for something better for them, if there is something better out there.

One day in Cairo or Suez or Luxor, I'll shake the hand of a satisfied man or woman (if it's even possible). There is room here for a political and philosophical debate, I suppose.
Time will eventually tell, it usually does.

our little penguin

2011-01-16T18:57:00.002+07:00

Today I want to switch things up somewhat and talk about the playgroup. To be completely honest, I haven't been enjoying them as much as the four-year-old group, and that's because, well, they are completely different. It has taken me more time to see the value and the comedy in this group.
My mornings have been filled with either the Monday, Wednesday, Friday non-stop calling for their mothers and criers or the Tuesday and Thursday too young, not ready for any kind of class non-listening 3 to 5-year-olds. There have been many a frustrating morning in my recent past.

If you'll allow it, I'd like to go into more detail on the playgroup children who range in age from just under 2 to 2.5 years old. Too early for school, maybe? Hmmm...
My co-teachers are Ebru, a confident, loud-spoken, extremely stylish, loves to buy new boots lady. I'd like to say lady, and I'd put her age at somewhere in her 20s, but I believe she is actually older. The other one is Evrim, quieter but still enthusiastic with the kids, always laughing at them.
The players are:
First, we have my not-so-favorite, Buse. This is a little girl who does nothing but cry for her mother and torment us. She can only be soothed by toy musical instruments or glue. She shakes the maracas, dancing and singing or sticks her fingers in the glue literally until you take it away from her. She knows two words as of now: "Anne" (mommy) and "Bana" (to me! or me!), and let's just say she has no fear in shouting either one as much as possible. She drives us all up the wall every day.
2nd, Kerem - insanely sensitive, always needs his nanny or grandma to be with him wherever we are. He cries incessantly when they aren't around and frequently runs out of the classroom to check that they are still sitting right there.
3rd, Yalcin - so lovely. He's recently gotten used to coming to school, smiles a lot, has finally started talking. The most hilarious thing - he gets kind of confused easily. When he has no direction, he walks back and forth trying to figure out which toy to pick up until you call his name and hold something out to him. He's adorable - blue eyes and curly blonde hair.
4th, Yeliz - has adjusted so well to the group, has not however, adjusted to the new teacher - me. Very frequently when I come to talk to her, she makes an ugly face, says something unintelligible but very mean and points her finger right in my face. Naturally I think this is funny so like to go and ask her questions a lot. Then, Ebru, Evrim and I laugh. :)
5th, Tolga - great kid, adjusted already, speaks some although I have a hell of a time trying to understand what he's saying.
6th and most interesting so far - Izzet. He is a little pudgy kid with a big belly and chubby cheeks. He waddles around like a penguin when he walks. He can say a few words, but he's normally very calm. He gets into one of the toy cars and just sits there looking around at everything. He doesn't bother to pretend to be driving. He's just happy to sit there.
His mother has voiced that she doesn't want me to really spend time with him because they want Izzet to study French and not English. I speak Turkish anyway, but fine lady. If you want to make a stupid choice, that's your thing. Sometimes I like to whisper to Izzet, "Ingilizce ogrenmen lazim, Annen'e soyle, tamam mi?" (You need to learn English. Tell your Mom, ok?) hehe.

Anyway, this week when we played downstairs he turned into quite the little daredevil. We have these big soft block type things which we sometimes use to create obstacle courses, bridges, etc. for the kids to play on. Two days ago we took a donut-shaped one and propped it up with a soft mat across the top. We let the kids walk and then fall down on to the cushioning underneath. Pretty fun huh? Well, Izzet tried to take this to new limits when he, with no concern for his own physical well-being or that of others, dove head first from on top of other mats down into the hole face first. And he continued to do it without waiting his turn, when other children were at the bottom of the hole, whenever we weren't looking. Every time he did it, we got angry and told him to wait, and he just smiled. Again, he climbed up on the mats, waddled over and dove head first. Even after several reprimands, he insisted on doing it until I began to watch and catch him in the act, mid-air. Silly penguin! I couldn't get too mad though as his smile is just so cute.

overexposure

2011-01-09T17:11:00.003+07:00

I found myself walking around in a world not of my own making. I didn't do it on purpose, I mean, leave my reality. Maybe you can relate to the feeling of an experience that grows from obsession or perhaps overexposure.
I'm working a lot. I am spending a significant portion of my time around children who are not any older than five. I am thinking of activities to do with them. I am considering their personalities, their likes and dislikes. I am trying to devise new ways to improve their language skills or discipline them.
This weekend we had meetings with parents. I stepped into another different world discussing the children and meeting their parents for the first time. I fell into the world of being a parent. They are all trying to decide where to send their children to school next year. The children are just four and already every mind is contemplating, looking at pros and cons, obsessing, wondering. I saw it, and I heard it, and I was somewhat sucked into it. From meeting their parents I got to know them even more somehow.
Pushing me even further.

I talked to my brother. We talked about Henry. I talked to Krisia. She is three months or so pregnant. Yesterday all I did was talk about children and think about children. Does seeing Henry make you want to have a baby? Push.

I went to sleep, but my mind remained focused, not able to forget the conversations of the activity of the day or week.
In my dream, there I was. I was pregnant. My family was there. Ali was there too somehow. For some reason I was bringing him for my family to see. I guess I wanted them to see how cute he is. We got on a plane and flew to them. They all looked at me, and there were no signs of a rounded stomach, but we all knew it to be true. My father said something, but what I can not remember. My mother said something. I was completely distraught, surrounded by my loved ones and a child. No, I said. I don't want to be pregnant. I can't be pregnant. No desire, not ready, this can't be happening. It was so real, it was happening. I cried, I begged my mother. No, Mom, it can't be. Please. There is so much I want to do. I haven't written my book. I haven't seen Egypt. No. It was like I was dying. I was crying. Then, suddenly, finally I remembered the red symbol, the proof that it, in fact, was not true.
I knew it was a dream, and I woke up. I gasped for breath, I sobbed. Relief, however, did not wash over me. Fear swept me. I sobbed again, and he didn't wake up. Still I remained alone, completely and wholly alone.
It's over now, it's over.

overtime

2011-01-06T02:04:00.002+07:00

Yesterday I experienced a new definition of the word "overtime" or working a "double shift," and it wasn't because I went from one school in the morning to another school in the afternoon and finally to a private lesson after that. Actually it happened in the afternoon with the four year old group at play time. Play time means free play time where the kids get to do whatever they want and choose whatever toys they want and play with whomever they want. Sometimes of course, Saime (my co-teacher) and I hang around and play with them because otherwise they revert back to speaking Turkish. Our presence encourages them to play in English.
As you might already know, Ali always says "Stephanie, play with me!" So I usually do if no one else needs me for anything, or a couple of us play together. However, yesterday (actually this wasn't the only occasion, this happens a lot) Ali hands me a dinosaur and said "You this, Stephanie." Ok, Ali. Then, Roy comes up with his mini garage and hands me another dinosaur saying "You this." Ok, Roy. Sure I can play two games at once just as sure as I can write with both hands and be two places at the same time.

So now I'm a dinosaur pretending to climb up into my friend Ali the mini black bear's house while at the same time Roy is telling me to push a button and use the elevator with the other dinosaur. Of course after several minutes Ali says, "Stephanie, you NOT play with me! You play with Roy. Play with me!" Can't he see that I'm trying? Ali brings the fire truck, and I put the dinosaur in and say "Let's go!" so I can buy a few minutes to hold my dinosaur on the lego hanging from a string that is supposed to be the garage elevator. When Ali comes back, I tell Roy to hold the dinosaur on the elevator while I climb on the blocks with dinosaur #2. Whooo... now I'm wiped out.
Honestly, I thought it wouldn't be a problem to play with two people at once, but that only works if you're playing the same game. I've got to try that.

Today, on the other hand, was a fun day for artists and writers alike. Ali had an idea to make a book so at play time he took seven pieces of paper and stapled them together. Then he drew a picture on each page. He came up to me after that and said, "Stephanie, I say, you write, ok?" Ah, so now I'm supposed to write sentences for what he's drawn. Isn't that cute? :) A real book, just like the ones I used to make when I was little (or just that one I made about my fish, Chris might remember - he did the illustrations).
"The title is Ueey's book," he says. Now, I don't understand what he means by this. Does he mean "You We" or "U E" or "Huey," one of Donald Duck's nephews. I try to get him to explain, but at last I go with "Huey" because a) that's the most logical I suppose and b) he can't read anyway. So the cover says "Huey's book by Ali." So cute.
Next, we get to the fun part. On page one there is a picture of some type of monster, and Ali begins dictating to me. "ok, you write. Here is monster. Monster going to school with truck and eats truck." Excellent start, Ali. So I write. "The monster goes to school and eats the trucks."
Page 2: There is a picture of a person, possibly female surrounded by pink squiggles. Ali dictates: "Very old woman going to school. Schoolteacher at school, reading book." Ah, interesting twist, well done. I write: "A very old woman goes to school. The schoolteacher reads a book." Page 3: There is another picture of what Ali claims is a monster. He dictates: "Here is monster, monster going to school and eat lunch." Oh man, what will this monster do next, the suspense is killing me! I write: "The monster goes to school and eats lunch." And so on and so forth until on the last page there is a picture of a snake who also goes to school. "The snake goes to school." He probably eats lunch there in the sequel.
Anyway, after we finished the book, he showed it to Saime and then carried it around with him the rest of the afternoon. At quiet reading time, he asked me to read his book to him, and I did, and he loved it. Does it get any cuter than this? Maybe tomorrow.
Anyway, Ali and I are hoping to publish and do a book tour so look out!!

Christmas Surprise

2011-01-01T22:23:00.002+07:00

We thought we knew what to expect, Baba and I, when we bought that plane ticket back in the beginning of October. We thought that in surprising everyone with my presence the day before Christmas Eve would be just what it sounded like, no more and no less. Then the whole idea of "surprise" developed a mind of its own, realized it was free and went for it. That's what you've got to love about it, I suppose.
Many, many hats off to Baba who kept the secret safe for months even though she was constantly around all the people from which she was keeping it. If you know Baba, you'll know that was damn impressive. Only a trip to the hospital finally made her open her mouth and seek the help of my cousin John. An excellent choice, I might add, for her back-up plan to pick me up from that airport without anyone else knowing.
I, on the other hand, spoke freely of my plans with my co-workers, my boyfriend, my brother, my Dad, the guy at the corner store, etc. etc.

So on December 22nd I got on a plane from Istanbul, flew to Amsterdam, waited there for seven hours, flew to Atlanta, and then finally arrived in New Bern at 10 pm that night. John, Melissa and Baba were there to pick me up with lots of hugs and giggles. Baba was a few hours off an Ativan just to give you a picture.
Then, of course, we were too excited to sleep as we discussed the next morning's breakfast where I was to come out wearing a big, red bow on my head, wrapped in wrapping paper with a "Merry Christmas" sign to really freak everyone out! Ah, what a great plan it was.
This is where the surprise took off on its own. Somewhere around 6:30 am (breakfast was set for 9 am) Baba started having trouble breathing. She took a couple different things and kept insisting that it would go away while I grew more and more nervous. Nothing helped and finally, I said, that's it - Hospital! So I helped her put on a jacket and shoes over pink pajamas and we were out the door. Now what to do? No one knows I'm here and it's like 7:30 am and I'm playing hospital chauffeur. Who do I call?
I thought of calling my Mom but was afraid of her reaction or complete bewilderment so the next logical option was Pam.
Pam answers in a low voice because I've clearly woken her up.
"Hello."
"Pam, it's Stephanie, I'm here. I'm taking her to the hospital."
Pam continues to use low-pitched now even more confused voice: "What? You're here? You're the surprise?!"
"Yes, Pam, now try to remember the part about how I'm taking your mom to the hospital!" No, I didn't say this, but I should have.
So instead of bursting out like a human Christmas present, everyone found out by word of mouth from the confusing telephone calls and messages, and we had a bit of a family reunion at Craven Regional Medical Center - at least they had tea and coffee.

Still it was a very awesome surprise, and I got to surprise Toni by jumping out from behind a tree when she walked into the lobby. Yes, my friends, there were tears and hugs galore. Bless that ugly blue, badly-decorated lobby tree with its underwater theme having nothing at all to do with Christmas.

Anyway... the next surprise came later on that day when my Dad (who had told me there was no way he could make it) suddenly popped up behind me when I was in the middle of typing an email to Levent telling him about all the earlier surprises. More tears, more hugs.
Something really wonderful then happened for me. I went out to dinner with my family, which is something I haven't done in about ten years - my Mom, my Dad, my brother and me (plus Brittany and Henry). I never thought though that I'd sit down to a meal with my immediate family ever again, but we got to do it, and it was fun! :)

After Baba got out of the hospital we had our normal Christmas Eve with presents, games and food, and it was amazing, just like it always is!

The final surprise came on Sunday when I was supposed to leave. For some reason beyond belief it snowed on December 26th in Eastern North Carolina. I've never seen that in all my Christmases there, but there it was, just as pretty as ever, laying peacefully on the ground and disrupting my entire flight plan. I stayed two extra days until I could get out. Another long journey and back to Istanbul.

Overall, I must say - cheers to Baba and I for creating a wonderful Christmas. No, I'm just kidding actually - thanks to EVERYONE for making it a fantastic Christmas!!!! All of my family, new and old, my little guy Henry who gets cuter every day, my wonderful brother just for being who he is and cracking me up, my Dad for driving so far just to see his little girl for two days, my Mom for restraining herself from physically injuring people who knew about the surprise and kept it from her :) to Pam for her hilarious answering machine message, to Barbara for her incredible ability to keep cool through all of it, to John and Melissa for picking me up and then calling a taxi to come party with us, to Toni for her unforgettable reaction to my surprise, to Patrick for a hell of a job with the buzzer, ah to everyone else!!! I love you. Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!

new adventures from the classroom

2010-12-16T01:05:00.002+07:00

The weather has finally gotten cold in Istanbul which means two things. First, everyone is dressed from head to toe in big, puffy things, and second, half of the children are sick and at home. I would say that it's a nice break, but for some reason the four year olds have decided that since there are less children, they have to make up for the craziness with double the mischief. No break for the poor teachers.

In the morning Turkish play group, I am giving myself a headache switching languages. This morning one of the mothers asked me to speak English with her daughter, but I'm still speaking Turkish with all of the other children. "Nereye going? Bu ne? Bu airplane mi?" Am I making sense to anyone?

The four-year-olds are learning Nursery Rhymes this week. That's a lot of fun for them because they get to run around the class pretending to be three blind mice while another kid chases them with a plastic knife. Wait a minute... who wrote that rhyme anyway? Idan of course had all the rhymes memorized on the first day. So smart. :) Today he yelled at another kid for speaking Turkish during play time even though it's their free time and they are allowed to speak whichever language they want.
Ali insisted that I play with him (as he does every day), and when I told him that I was going to play with a different child for some time he said, "Ok, but you play with Dafne a little time." I said, "Ok." Then, he started counting down from ten, and he skipped number 3.

We have an autistic child in our class,also named Kaan. Apparently he's on the border between autistic and "normal," but there is obviously a difference. He very rarely pays attention. Basically anything he finds, he puts in his mouth. He sometimes spits on the floor, and lately he has started hitting people. Any child who comes within one foot of him automatically gets hit or sometimes kicked. He's not angry at all though. Sometimes he thinks it's funny, sometimes he just does it. Ralf thinks it's hilarious and often laughs loudly which only motivates Kaan to do it more. We aren't sure what to do with him other than separate him from the others from time to time. To be completely honest, I sometimes find it a little bit funny myself (especially if he randomly hits the spoiled kid), but must restrain any amusement on my face. I can't help but love Kaan though. He's learned numbers really well, and he's just a cute little guy. Any advice, anyone?

Then, I went to my private lesson with the 2.5 year old twins. They are actually improving. They are repeating after me more and might actually be learning a word or two. However, Sarp (the boy) thought it would be funny to pick a booger from his nose and try to put it on me. When this attempt failed, he went for my bag, and when this failed he just put it on the table. Disgusting! His reaction - to crack up with laughter. Little boys truly do have coodies.

Anyway, I survived another Wednesday - two more days to go :) hehe

out of the blue

2010-12-08T23:51:00.003+07:00

Let's see - I'm home from work, and it's Wednesday. What do I have to report to you today? Oh, this week we are talking about healthy eating habits in class. I mean, I guess it's never too early, but they are four. Anyway, yesterday we made a food pyramid and learned that junk food is the DEVIL!! I made them all swear never to touch a piece of chocolate or an ice cream cone again.
Just kidding, actually I told them that since they were four, they could forget everything I had just said. :)

Also, an interesting offer has come my way. My afternoon school with whom I wanted to work full-time couldn't offer that to me at first. This is why, of course, I started the job at the morning school. Today though, my bosses called me into the office to tell me that they have an option for me. One teacher has suddenly had to leave out of the blue, and one teacher has moved to her spot leaving one spot remaining. Which spot might this be? An interesting and intriguing one: Playgroup C. Now I know this group because we occasionally eat lunch in the same room when I get to school. However, what is playgroup exactly? It's nothing more than a group of seven children somewhere between 2 and 3 years old who play, eat, (most likely cry a lot), and overall just enjoy themselves in a school area. The other interesting thing about this position is that it is not an "English teaching" position. It's simply a teaching position. The children don't know English, the co-teachers don't know English, and they aren't supposed to be learning English at this age. They are just supposed to be getting acquainted with school. What does this mean exactly for me? It means that they are gonna pay me to practice my Turkish with little children. What a fantastic opportunity for me! (Especially because I made a bet this summer with Levent's nephew that my Turkish would be better than his English by next summer). I have been thinking a lot about improving my Turkish lately, and here is a really great chance for me.

This leaves us with one problem though - what about my morning school. To be honest, the people are really nice, the kids are usually cute, but the atmosphere is well, not exactly encouraging for me. Trying to have a lesson with ten 3-year-olds is not an easy task to accomplish, not even easy to attempt really, but I have to do it every day. In truth, I spend most of the class putting them back in their chairs, telling them to turn around and saying "Listen!" The truth is that it isn't a very good set up (as I've learned in my years as a teacher) for learning English, especially for little ones. Children need to live a language in order to learn it, not have it forced on them for 25 to 30 minutes each day. Perhaps there is more I could do to make it easier for myself and them, but I'm not quite sure what that is.
Tomorrow I have to go in and explain that I am going to have to leave, which is no good for them but with no contract, there is nothing to do. I'm not going to feel too bad about it because I think a really nice opportunity has arisen for me. No job is perfect, of course, but perhaps some are just a little more encouraging.

another week

2010-12-04T15:48:00.002+07:00

This week started off on Monday for most people, but not me. I was sick in bed all weekend and then Monday too. Can't say I minded the rest though or missing the weekly Monday evening meeting at work which is 2 hours long usually, 2 hours too long, if you ask me! The problem is that I work with a bunch of women and not one guy. Twenty women in one room can do some talking. Every week I pray that they will learn that if they shut up, we get to go home early! They never do. Anyway, this week I was at home in bed while my co-workers sat in small, uncomfortable children's chairs discussing the shenanigans of the week before.

Tuesday, though, I was back to it, and finally one of my favorite students in the afternoon class had come back from his three week vacation to the US. I asked him what he did for three weeks, but the only thing I could get out of him was "Orlando! A castle! Magic Kingdom!" So I guess he spent three weeks wandering around the Magic Kingdom. Not too shabby, eh? After that he (Ali is his name - you may remember him from a previous blog) didn't hesitate to bother me like he was a potter puppet pal :)

The five-year-old morning children have continued to be successful in their never-ending quest not to listen to a word I say for the thirty minutes they are with me. What fun.

On Thursday afternoon we went to the grocery store because we are studying fruits and vegetables this week. That was great fun. The old women followed us around saying "oh, how cute!" while pointing at our four-year-olds. Everyone was so impressed with their English.
Mark: "Look, Stephanie, a cucumber!" Me: "I know, Mark, isn't it lovely?" :)
Idan: "Look, lemons!"
Nuki smiles to himself as he proceeds to pull food off the shelves. Me: "No, Nuki, don't do that!" Grocery store employee: "Is he your son?" Me: "Hell, no, are you insane?" No, actually I just said that on the inside. On the outside, I politely said 'no,' and smiled.
Actually the children's ability to learn the names of all the vegetables in a matter of seven or eight days is really impressive. I've been here for two years and couldn't tell you how to say cabbage in Turkish. However, do you know what a leek is? I didn't until I had to teach it to the kids this week, and I can assure you it's one of the most useless vocabulary words ever.

The week ended with us using the vegetables we bought at the grocery store to make salad in class. The kids used butter knives to cut up lettuce, cucumbers and tomatoes. Roy insisted that he disliked all vegetables except corn so made a salad for me, instead of himself. How sweet, but please Roy, try not to sneeze or drool on the lettuce. Ali made a miniscule butter knife cut on his own finger and began yelling for a band-aid and then insisted that we call an ambulance.
Instead I told him I would use magic to heal it and began humming and waving my hand over his finger. Unfortunately, he didn't believe in the magic and so couldn't feel its effects. :) Poor kid.

Now it's Saturday and I'm sitting at home trying to enjoy the peace and quiet and wondering what this next week will bring. No doubt there will be yelling, there'll be runny noses, crying but lots of laughter. :)

a 56 hour tour

2010-11-21T21:30:00.003+07:00

One of the advantages and disadvantages of living in a city like Istanbul is the people. Over time people have flocked to this city and it had nowhere to go but out. Now this place is huge and is crowded with huge amounts of people. I mean, I step out my door, go down the road and start thinking to myself "Where did all these people come from? Where are they going? What are they doing?" High school students are sneaking off to smoke cigarettes. Fabulous women sporting the latest fashion trends are strutting down the road possibly on the way to the six-story mall. Families of four are holding hands trying to make it safely down the road without a child getting hit by a bus, taxi, car, or motorbike. Then there's me just trying to get around this mess!

The other thing is getting from place to place. I live on the European side. Jenny wants to go to one of the islands off the coast of Istanbul. She lives on the Asian side. I walk 10 minutes from my house to the metro bus, spend 20 minutes on the metro bus to the Asian side. I walk another 15 minutes to get to the ferry station. Then, I wait for Jenny, her husband and her cousin to come and meet me. Then, we wait about 20 minutes for the ferry to arrive. When the ferry arrives it's packed because the weather is sunny and warm for some reason on this November day and it's a holiday. Everyone and their mother is on board. So we sit down on the floor on the upper deck behind two couples and a female 5th wheel and have a lovely view of their asses, but that's better than standing for the 1 and a half hours it takes to get to our island of choice - Buyuk Ada (which literally means Big Island). The reason we have to wait so long is because we have to actually get to the islands and then make three stops at three smaller islands before our final destination. It's the last one.

Luckily for us we had some onboard entertainment as we notice that the guy in front of us happily throwing bread at the seagulls has a gun tucked into his pants. He is wearing a shirt and jacket that keep riding up and makes no real effort to cover up a weapon in his pants. Jenny and I are wondering what is going on. Is this guy just showing off or trying to get some protection? He was with his pregnant wife so maybe he isn't taking any chances.
As we continue to stare at the guy we learn from Jenny's husband, who is a Turk, that all police officers must carry guns whether they are on duty or not. So here is this, I guess, off duty police officer smiling, throwing bread into the air at seagulls and kissing his pregnant wife all with a gun in his jeans. We kept waiting for it to go off and shoot him in the foot or for him to suddenly walk up to the cabin and hi-jack the boat. Neither happened. He just every now and then casually pulled his jacket back down to cover his heat while we sat their somewhat disturbed. Apparently in Scotland (where Jenny is from), the police don't even carry guns when they are on duty. Word to the wise: Thinking of committing robbery - go to Scotland! :)

Anyway, finally we made it to the incredibly packed island where we were going to take a horse and carriage tour, but the line went down around the block and nobody wanted to wait even more. So we rented four bikes and tried desperately and rather pathetically, I might add, to get around the hills on the island. Actually it was quite fun, especially when we reached the grassy area on top where we could sit down and drink a water. It was a wonderful view though - you could see across to the green area with a few trees where they let the horses graze somewhat freely. I'd have said it was a good life for the horses if I hadn't just seen them tied to carriages, getting whipped, running up a hill with fat tourists in the back to pull along. I was glad we didn't take one of those. Wouldn't have been right, especially being a vegetarian and growing into a bigger animal lover every day.

Anyway, at that point we decided we didn't want to do any more uphill biking so made our way back down the hills, hands on the brakes the entire time in order not to collide with a tree or a horse or a pedestrian. Then we drank beer and ate bad, expensive food.
Ah, just another day on the islands. :)

Then, however came the real challenge. The ferry left the island at 4 pm and we promptly boarded. Then we waited on the ferry as it stopped at the three other islands and then the Asian side. Jenny and company disembarked, but I stayed on to make it back to the European side. So it was another hour and 45 minutes on the ferry to Kabatas. Then 5 or 7 minutes on the Kabatas funikuler (not sure of the word in English - like an underground tram but not as long as a metro) to Taksim, and luckily I caught it just as it was leaving. Then, another 10 minutes on the metro from Taksim to Sisli, and luckily again I caught this just as it was leaving. Finally, I got off the metro and walked ten more minutes to my apartment. I stepped in the door around 6:15 pm - 2 hours and 15 minutes later. Damn!

Of course this is Istanbul, and that's how it is. If you wanna go somewhere, anywhere, you've got to do the leg work!
The next day I didn't leave home except to go to the store.

ode to HP

2010-11-18T21:46:00.002+07:00

Oh, Harry Potter, how do I love, thee? Let me count the ways. I remember reading books 1 through 4. I remember the excitement of receiving Harry Potter 5 on my 20th birthday. I remember waiting in line with Jen at the book store in Stone Harbor. We were 2nd in line behind a small boy who wore a robe and had a wand. He was with his mother. I was wearing my Draco Malfoy t-shirt, the one Katie gave me when I was in college. Katie, do you still love Harry Potter? Jen was embarrassed by my shirt and by us being 2nd in line, but I didn't care. At the time my brother was working at the bookstore. The shipments of Harry Potter 6 had come in a few days early, and he told us how he had been sneaking in back and reading a few pages at a time before the book was even released. I was pissed.

And Harry Potter 7, that final book. Oh, I can't forget the day. Krisia and I were on our way to the gym loathing life because we knew that on this day, the release day, the book would not be coming to Istanbul, Turkey. We were so sad. Then, by chance we decided to swing by the book store just to check, and there it was in a beautiful stack of red and black. Oh we bought them and were home reading before you could say "Hogwarts." I remember the stress, trying to find out what would happen, continuing to read, not able to stop, but at the same time not wanting to finish. Oh the joy, the torment, the pain.

Yesterday Part 1 of the 7th movie came out in Istanbul. I was there. I brought Levent with me. I was excited and nothing could come between me and Harry, Ron, and Hermione. We sat down in our seats and behind us were four or five teenage boys. Oh great, I thought sarcastically because as you know, there is nothing worse than a group of teenage boys. They chattered on and on. I knew I would lose it if they didn't keep their mouths shut when the film started. After two ridiculous Turkish movie trailers we were on our way! It was like meditation. I saw nothing, knew nothing except the excitement, the thrills that only a Harry Potter adventure can take you on, especially the final one!
At the film intermission, I was so pleasantly surprised to hear the teenage boys behind me in deep discussion about what exactly where the seven Horcruxes and what did they mean. My respect for teenage boys increased tenfold as I listened on in envy. Sadly, (and no offense to Levent of course) I had only brought with me a "liker" of Harry Potter, not a "die hard, 2nd in line at the book store behind boy with wand, believing in magic, trying to perform spells Harry Potter lover" like me. There was no one with which to identify Horcruxes or discuss where they were hidden. There was no one to appreciate that little look Ron just gave Hermione or to empathize with Harry's pain and loneliness. Oh, how I missed you all that day _ Krisia, Justene, Chris, Katie.

Now it's over. I sit in my house thinking long and hard about it all. I plan to re-read them all. I plan to take that university class on Harry Potter my brother told me existed. I plan to go outside with a broom stick and attempt to play Quidditch as I chase around bottles blown by the wind. I don't, however, plan to become less nerdy.

Oh thank you Harry, thank you Ms. Rowling for all you've brought into my life. Just 8 more months until the last movie comes out and then I have lots more Post Harry Potter Depression in my future.

my brats

2010-11-17T16:32:00.002+07:00

I have two students in my four-year-olds afternoon class who are rather spoiled. Ok, let's face it. All of these children have rich parents who can afford to send them to an English school in Istanbul. They are all spoiled. However, I have two very different yet similar ones whose interactions I often find myself in the middle of.
One is Ali. Ali is a very smart kid who is never absent (except when his parents decide to go on vacation). He is very talkative, speaking a lot of English in class and always wanting me to play with him. Because I am usually around him during playtime he learns even more words and phrases. He's always the one saying "Stephanie come play with me!" Since no other kids say this to me, I tend to stay around him during play time while interacting with others as much as I can. As much as this kid demands my attention, jumps on me and basically can't stay in his seat, he is one of my favorites.
Then, there is Nuki. Nuki, like Ali, is spoiled, but Nuki cares a lot less about whether or not he speaks English in class. He doesn't play with anyone, and when he sees other students playing with something he wants, he just goes and takes it from them. Then he cries when others get mad at him. When he doesn't get to sit next to a certain student at circle time or art time, he goes off to a corner and cries and pouts. Also, he doesn't come to class regularly (which may or may not be his fault), and didn't come very much last year according to my co-teacher. Therefore his English is not very good. He doesn't understand as well as the others. The words he uses most often are "No!" "Me!" and "It's Mine!" These he knows very well. Almost every day I have to tell him, "Don't do that Nuki. We have to share with our friends and play together." Perhaps he doesn't understand what I'm saying, or perhaps he doesn't care.

Anyway, needless to say I run out of patience very quickly with Nuki. So does Ali. Ali likes to play with the dinosaurs, and Nuki likes to steal the dinosaurs or whatever else Ali is using. Very often when I am with Ali, and he wants to go and get another toy, he looks at me and says "Nuki, not take this, ok?" As in, he wants me to guard his toys from Nuki while he isn't there to do it in the next few seconds. I just smile a knowing smile, and I look to see where Nuki is and what he is doing. If he comes over, I encourage them to use things together, but one of them usually ends up leaving the spot rather than having to share.

However, one day some children were at the computer class and I only had about 5 or 6 students in the room, two of which were Nuki and Ali.
Ali took the small toy house and starting coloring pieces of paper with red marker. He said, "This is a carpet," and he put the carpets on the floors of the house. Soon after this, Nuki comes up because he decides that he wants to use this house now. Not one of the other ones - the castle, the garage, the ones no one is playing with, but the house Ali is using. As Nuki comes up and starts pulling the "carpets" out of the house, I begin to say, "Don't do that, Nuki. It's not nice," or something along those lines even though I really want to yell at him. Then I look over at Ali because I know he's going to be pissed about it. But then suddenly something truly inspiring happens. As Nuki is pulling out the carpets saying "No! No!" Ali just looks over at him and says very calmly "Ok, Nuki, ok." He helps Nuki to pull out the rest of carpets, and Ali then goes and gets something else to play with. I was really shocked. Normally they start a big fight, Nuki cries in the corner and Ali whines his head off. Not that day, somehow from somewhere Ali found some patience, or just decided to give up. Either way, I started thinking, how can this little four-year-old have more patience than me?

Since then I've tried to be kinder to Nuki and more patient. I try to give him more hugs and play with him when I can. Maybe he just needs a little extra love and patience. Is it working? Time will tell.

This week is a holiday so there is no school, and last week Ali wasn't there. He went on a long vacation, possibly to the US. I'm not sure. Class really wasn't the same without that crazy little guy. Although I'm thoroughly enjoying my time off, I'll be glad to have him back next week :)

just leaping

2010-11-06T15:04:00.002+07:00

Hello everyone! I am back in action, sort of. The truth is that after the fun and excitement of India and Nepal, I really felt the damage in the bank account. So since then my only task has been working and trying to acquire more work in order to fill it back up and start saving so I can plan the next trip. I'm not really globetrotting now, just leaping. . . from job to job.

Anyway, I've decided that I really miss blogging, but I don't have too much to write about. Or do I? For at least the next few months of my life, I'll be dedicating most of my day to children between the ages of 2.5 and 5 so I can write about that. The thing is is that they are just way too cute not to have a little writing devoted to them, and I'm pretty sure Levent is tired of hearing about how my three-year-olds learned to say the word "black" and how cute it is when they say it because they love stressing the "ck" part really loudly! Still, he does a good job pretending :) In order to express my love for these little guys and girls I'm gonna blog about it, then you the reader can choose to read or not read as you like. At least I'll have an outlet for all my cuddly, cute little stories.

So nowadays my schedule consists of morning classes with four groups each half an hour long with 2.5-year-olds, 3-year-olds, 4-year-olds and then 5-year-olds. In the afternoon I spend all day with a group of 13 four-year-olds in a different, richer and much more structured program (which I thoroughly enjoy after most of the seriously disorganized "plans" of normal Turkish schools). After that, on Tuesdays, Wednesdays and Thursdays I proceed to the house of 2.5 year old twins (a boy and a girl named Sarp and Duru) for a one hour private lesson.

For now let me just give you a few small examples of the cuteness I have been talking about. In the morning school I have a three year old who is so excited by the fact that he can say "Good Morning" he says it 5 to 6 times upon entering the room and then again half an hour later upon leaving the room. I don't know how to tell him that "good morning" is more of a greeting then an exiting phrase, and I wouldn't want to anyway. I have another 3 year old who has bawled every time he's entered my class for the past 2 weeks and then just yesterday came in with a tearless face and said "Good Morning" to me. I was so proud. :)
In the afternoon, I have a child named Roy who sometimes comes up to me and says "I like you" to which I of course reply, "I like you too, Roy." Yesterday he said "I like you this much!" and spread his arms out to show me their full length. Awwwww :)
I also have another one named Ali who every day tells me, "Stephanie, today, playtime, me play, ok?" which means of course "Stephanie, today at playtime, please play with me, ok?" Then I have to repeat to him "Play with me, Ali, we say Play with me!" Sometimes he gets it right. Ah, who else? There is Idan, another four-year-old whose English is quite good - maybe better than yours was at 4 :) Actually I can't think of any good stories for him at this point, just trust me - he is adorable!
Finally the evening kids. Well, they are 2.5 so what can I say? They ramble on and on in Turkish to me as we do puzzles, look at books, and color, but just yesterday (after 5 lessons) Sarp asked me for the "brown" marker before I even prompted him to say it! Good for you, little buddy!

Ah, there is so much to tell. There will be much more to come! I could write for hours and hours about these little ones. :)

bye bye summer

2010-08-22T15:08:00.003+07:00

Let me ask you something - have you ever been to the club in last night's pajamas? Friday afternoon I went swimming and then took a shower. After my shower I put on a brown tank top and blue cotton shorts. That night I slept in that outfit. Saturday morning I got up and decided not to change my clothes. I hung out inside all day until about 9 pm. Levent, Fırat (his brother), and I bought a bottle of wine and went to drink it next to the water. About 11 pm Fırat's friend called and wanted to meet at the club so off we went. There we were drinking beers in our pajamas while scantily clad girls in too high heels shook their asses all around us. I even went up to the dance floor by myself in my pajamas to shake it a little when a really good song came on.

I like to think of it as a sign of maturity - clubbing and dancing alone in pajamas. There are other possibilities of course - having a boyfriend who is already impressed by how you look without the mini skirt and low cut top. Or maybe - the summer is coming to and end. It's time to call it quits and get back to some kind of routine. In fact, it is this time. We are leaving the beautiful beach town of Marmaris today.

It has been a really cool 10 or so days here. I've spent my time with Levent's family - sister, brother, mom, dad, brother-in-law, and nephews. The most interesting thing to me is entering myself into this family dynamic in a completely different language. Most of the interaction going on here (95%) is in Turkish. I am getting more comfortable with the language even making a few jokes.

One joke, in fact, I made while we all sat eating this really delicious meal made by Levent's mom. Everyone seemed to be really enjoying it and eating quickly because it was so good so I thought it would be funny to say "Hayvanlar gibi yiyorsunuz" (You guys are eating like animals). I sat there waiting for the laughter to come, but instead Levent's sister sarcastically said "Thank you Stephanie," and his dad tried to help me out by saying "I'm sure that's not what she wanted to say." So instead of gathering up the chuckles, I hung my head and said I was sorry. Luckily, they thought me being sorry for my comment was funny, and we all moved on. Great people. Anyway, it is giving me a lot of motivation to improve my Turkish so I can really communicate well with them and of course have some kind of fluency in a 2nd language. Good luck to me!

So this afternoon we leave for Istanbul to search for a new apartment and start a new life there. Ah, beautiful Istanbul, new life, new job, old friends and some new hopefully. Bye bye summer! Autumn, you are most welcome. :)

namaste and good-bye

2010-08-10T01:14:00.002+07:00

Day 32 and 33 - Kathmandu, Delhi and Istanbul

We woke up on Sunday refreshed and yet still on a bungee high, but it was time to say good-bye. We flew from cool Kathmandu in the afternoon straight to hot-as-hell Delhi in an hour and a half, got out of the airport and started sweating immediately. Our last afternoon was filled with checking into our final hotel (Hard to believe we've been living in hotels for almost 5 weeks) and walking around in Connaught Place in the newer Delhi area. We ate at our old favorite place, came home and crashed somewhere around 9 pm. We did enjoy a beautiful Indian sunset though one last time. . . for now, anyway.

This morning we woke up at four am to catch a 7:35 flight from Delhi. What an experience that was. Delhi has the tightest airport security I have ever seen in my life. First of all, they would not even let us in the door because we didn't have a print-out of our ticket. Our passports just weren't enough. Finally after getting out of that mess and checking in, just about everyone we ran across asked to make sure we had cabin security tags on our bags. I had to beg to put my tagless purse into my bigger bag just to get by. Finally though, we made it out of this to and onto our flights safely back to Istanbul.

We arrived here in Istanbul around 2:15 pm with lots of time to waste before a 9 pm bus ride to Marmaris to see Levent's family for some time before moving back to Istanbul for the year. We are now on that bus and strangely I am using the internet. Have you ever heard of internet on a bus? I haven't, but it's really fantastic and a bit surreal.

So anyway, this is the last of the India/Nepal trip blogs. I want to say thanks for reading. I hope you enjoyed it. I really enjoyed blogging about it, and I appreciate your company on the ride. What a crazy ride it was! Much love to you all! See you on the next adventure :)

I survived!

2010-08-08T08:35:00.002+07:00

Day 31 - Kodari, Nepal

The alarm sounded at 5 am, way too early. We got up and got ready to catch the bus some time around 6 am for Kodari - destination Bungee-Jump. We joined about 40 other foreigners on 2 buses for the 3 1/2 hour trip up to Kodari which is just 12 kilometers from the Tibetan border. We fell back asleep on the bus and were basically feeling no fear at this point, just sleepy. The road wasn't so good in some places, and the bus bounced us around, but the view was gorgeous. There were green hills surrounding us with lots of water falls thrown in the mix. It's about what we've seen on every bus trip in Nepal - pure, natural beauty.

When we arrived at the spot which is also a resort area known as "The Last Resort," they dropped us off right in front of the long, metal bridge running along the gorge, high above the river below. The bridge and platform stand 160 meters above the ground making it the third highest bungee-jump in the world. When we arrived, we were able to watch a few people bungee. A few girls screamed their heads off as they made the fall, and a few people just put out their arms and took it all in. Levent and I were excited, but nervous, of course.

Anyway, we found out that we would be put into group 3 of the forty people to jump and so would have to wait a couple hours. No problem, we filled the time with lunch, reading books and a small nap. Now we're ready.

When it was time to go, I started to feel the fear a bit, the knowledge of what I was about to do entered my brain and stayed there refusing to be pushed out. We put all of our belongings into a locker and headed out to the bridge, just body and soul to jump (and clothes of course).

There were about 14 or so people in our group, and they made us wait in the middle of the bridge about 20 feet away from the platform. They picked us out one by one for the jump. I felt a little like a prisoner waiting to be tortured, knowing it was inevitable and there was nothing to do to avoid it. The difference between the prisoner and I, however, is that I had some excitement mixed in with my emotions.

Anyway, because Levent is heavier than I, he was picked to go first. I watched with nerves a-wreck as he was strapped into body and foot gear and then onto the bungee. I was shaking a little with joy and fear as he stepped out onto the platform. Down he went with little problem (he claims). Then we were separated until I could do it myself and rejoin him at the bottom. I passed the time talking to this English girl who was also jumping for the first time.

Then, number 64 - my turn. I walked toward the platform, and they placed the body harness around me, tightening it. I sat down and they strapped another harness around my ankles. There was a camera man taking videos so he started asking me questions while I was sitting there shaking, knowing what I was about to do and wondering why I was about to do it. "What's happening?" he said. "Not much, man, I'm just gonna jump off a bridge." That sounds like a genius idea, huh?

Now before this I had been running through several thought processes in order to calm myself. For example, hey it's just 3 or 4 seconds of free fall, that is nothing. A second one, when I jump I will think that I am bonding with nature, and nature will accept me and protect me. It'll be like a spiritual experience. Unfortunately, all that went right out the window and was swept away by the wind never to be seen or heard from again.

I was all strapped in and the bungee master had me stand up and walk toward the platform. I went under the bar separating the bridge from the platform and was out in the open with nothing to protect me except bungee cord and harness. This is when I started to feel the panic. I looked out over the river in a slow rage below. My mind and body began a battle. I couldn't walk so fast because of the ankle harnesses keeping my legs close together. I inched forward slowly with the bungee master holding the back of my harness and trying to be encouraging. I don't remember what he said exactly because my mind was saying "Steph, what are you doing? What are you thinking? This is totally against all of our survival instincts. Look at this drop. You aren't gonna go on if you jump off a bridge. This is just the stupidest thing ever." It was one of the the most unnatural feelings I have experienced. Your body and most of your mind are telling you to stop and back up because they are unaware that you are strapped in while only one little part of your mind is now excited and telling you you have to do it.

I walked slowly all the way to the edge, I looked over, the fear and excitement took me over, and the bungee master said "3, 2, 1, Bungee!" He gave me a small push and I jumped! Arms outstretched, I was free falling and the scream came! I screamed so loud, but suddenly it was cut off (not sure why), and I plummeted toward the river below. The feeling, the adrenaline was amazing. As I got to the bottom the cord caught me and sent me back upward. At this point I started screaming and laughing in pure delight and amazement. I took a couple big bounces. Leaf green and brown water were all I could see. My eyes felt a little funny, and blood was rushing to my head, but I felt so good. I was doing it. I was bungeeing. :)

It was only about 3 or 4 seconds of free fall followed by another 20 or so seconds of bouncing around and then moving down toward the helpers at the bottom. I reached out for the bamboo stick they gave me. They pulled me in, and I was breathing so hard and fast as they helped me remove the harnesses. Walking toward the people who had also finished I had to get my balance a bit. When I got there I started talking at them about everything I had felt and how awesome it was. They kind of smiled and nodded their understanding. Oh man, what a feeling.

A bit after this we had to hike back up to the top which was tiring but absolutely gorgeous. We walked up about the beautiful green of the trees and through the water falls treating us to cool water on our feet. Levent and I talked about the rush, the craziness of it all. Turns out he wished he could free fall for 2 or 3 minutes whereas several seconds is good enough for me, I think. So what's the next adrenaline rush? Canyoning? Skydiving? :)

The bus ride home was torture because we were hungry, exhausted and the roads kept us bouncing around for a lot of it, but we finally made it back around 3 hours later, 9:00 at night. Well, well worth it. 3, 2, 1, Bungee!!!!

It was an awesome finale to a completely awesome and unforgettable trip. In a few hours we are catching a flight from Kathmandu to Delhi. We spend an afternoon there and fly back to Istanbul on Monday morning (the 9th).

You may get one more trip blog out of me though, but for know... Bungee!!!! I did it!!!!! :)

teachings of the yoga master

2010-08-06T17:13:00.002+07:00

Day 30 - Kathmandu

Today was our last day of the 5-day yoga course. It was definitely a mixed emotions kind of departure as we were thrilled to be rid of the endless rambling of our yogi while on the other hand, sad to leave his chipper spirit and strange stories behind.

I wanted to share some of the things we learned during our time with him and his wife in the yoga center.

1) Meditation and Yoga. This is obviously what we came for in the first place. What I took from him as far as meditation would be his singing voice. He has a wonderful voice which helps to soothe you into a peaceful, resting place. It definitely helped me to relax. I should have had him make a mix tape. As far as yoga we learned that even a chubby 47-year-old man is capable of putting his foot behind his head or lifting himself almost the whole way off the ground starting from the stomach on the floor position. We also learned several poses that we'll take with us and maybe even use every now and then in the future. Yet somehow the yoga will be one of the last things I remember about our Akhil the Yogi.

2) Breathing Exercises. He taught us several variations on breathing - short and long through each nostril, big breaths through the mouth and out through the nose, holding your breath and locking it in for a few seconds and then releasing in a calm, slow matter, etc. Apparently these things can rid you of headaches and sinus problems, and I believe it. These things I will definitely be using in the future because nothing sucks like a stuffy nose when you are trying to go to sleep at night, ya know?

3) India's Caste System. India can boast that it has a caste system clearly still in effect today. Although they claim that it is changing (and I believe it is) people still believe strongly in it. To elaborate - there are 4 castes. (Before I begin a short explanation, I'd like to say that the spelling for caste names may be incorrect as what Akhil said and the letters I wrote down probably are not exactly the same thing.) The first is the Brahman: highest, most common professions are teacher, guru. The second is Khatria: warriors. The third is Vaishya: merchants. The fourth is Sudra: artisans and laborers. Finally, the last "caste" which is actually not technically a caste are the "Untouchables" or Dalit*.

Your caste is determined by the family into which you are born. You can not control it just as you can not control being from Canada or being male or female. It determines what kind of jobs you should have and who you can marry. Also, each caste contains several other castes which are higher and lower on the scale. Your last name lets everyone know to which caste you belong.

The Untouchables: These are the people responsible for cleaning and doing all dirty jobs. Some people keep those from the untouchable caste in their homes as something like servants and seeing them as unequal.

As I've said, apparently it is changing, but it is obviously a well-ingrained Indian tradition. I think we all know the power of tradition.

(In case you are curious, our yoga teacher is of the Brahman caste.)

4) Culture and Language. We discussed language learning in schools and discovered that India has thirteen official languages. Almost every province has its own local languages. For example Akhil is from West Bengal and speaks Bengali as his first language. People from Delhi speak Hindi and so on from one place to another. Apparently communication can be difficult among locals from different areas and English is a lingua franca for some. For one country there seems to be much division which probably accounts for a lot of the craziness. :)

5) Hygiene. Today Akhil, Levent and I discussed different methods used for cleaning oneself. It started with him talking about his tongue cleaner. Apparently after he brushes his teeth he uses this flat metal piece to scrape the, uh, stuff off his tongue. He even brought it out for a demonstration which I had to look away from in order not to lose my breakfast. This guy has no shame. :) After this it was on to talk of cleanliness in Indian village life.

Now, I don't know about you, but I remember hearing somewhere that it is healthy to drink your own urine in the morning. I didn't really know what to make of it, but according to Akhil this is right on. People sometimes drink their own urine because as he said "poison kills poison" and really helps to clean your system. Also, let's not forget about the usefulness of cow urine and cow excrement. People sometimes drink cow urine or bathe themselves in the cow urine to get rid of skin problems.

There is, in fact, one method of letting the urine (yours or the cow's, up to you) sit in the sun for a few days until it starts fermenting and then rubbing it on your skin and sunbathing.

Also, you can collect some cow excrement, burn it and then use the ashes to clean out your teeth or rub on your skin. Very good for the old epidermis.

Now you can say what you want about these methods, but these are the people living strong, healthy, non-cancerous lives out here in the villages of India. I don't know that I have the courage to take the 'bovine golden shower,' but don't knock it til you try it, eh?

Akhil is not at all afraid to tell you that he cleanses himself with dung and urine and occasionally consumes it. He's also not afraid to tell you that he has absolutely no skin problems. :) Something to be proud of.

So, all in all, these are a lot of the things we learned in our short week with the yoga master. Will we ever see him again? I'm guessing no. Will we ever forget him? I'm also guessing no. We'll miss his laugh and smile and think fondly on his love for hearing himself talk.

I guess the big question is - would I recommend this course to friends? The answer - if you are not afraid to be grossed out, talked at and stretched out, then Yes, Yes I Would! Can't put a price on a new-found awareness on the many uses of urine and excrement or the stories of how he got sick and was throwing up while you are trying to eat lunch. Definitely can't put a price on his wife's amazing home-cooked meals or pigeon tossing. When you come to Kathmandu visit Akhil at Patanjali Yoga Center! Thank you, Akhil! Namaste, friend :)

*I used Wikipedia to help with some of the information on the castes.

a little note

2010-08-05T09:40:00.002+07:00

Day 27 and 28 - Kathmandu

What can I say? The trip is winding down, and I am sore from yoga. On Tuesday Akil decided to really put us to the test and help us to twist our bodies in ways basically unimaginable before. Although he is an incredibly flexible and talented guy, we've discovered his weakness - talking. This guy loves to tell a story and misses no opportunities to do so. He finds time to talk in the beginning of the lesson, between breathing exercises and stretches, even during neck exercises. It can get a bit annoying, but he's just so pleasant that you can only get but so mad.

Yesterday (Wednesday) he took it a little bit easier on us, and we managed to get away not completely sweaty and stretched to the limit (except maybe in the ear area :).

Our days now are consisting mainly of a lot of listening, stretching and relaxing. Also, we celebrated our one year anniversary on Tuesday which was pretty exciting and unbelievable. Still together, still alive after one year. Here's to our current and future success. :)

Alright, I apologize for the shortness and boringness of this one, but there really isn't too much to report except - I think we will be bungee-jumping on Saturday! One last hurrah before we say good-bye to Nepal.

trade master

2010-08-02T21:11:00.001+07:00

Days 25 and 26 - Kathmandu

Day 25

Sunday. An easy day, a slow day. Levent had a certain thing on his mind - yoga. We had searched in our Lonely Planet guide book and found a place rather off the beaten path which gives yoga courses. Equipped with two different maps we set out to find said yoga center and inquire about the courses there. Down the road, through the main square, down another road, over a bridge, a left turn, follow the street, more and more turns, asking for directions, asking for more directions. No one knew anything about the alleged "Patanjali Yoga Center," and I feared that since our guide book is a few years old the place might no longer exist. Finally, however, we found a guest house where they knew of the place and pointed us in the right direction - 10 minutes more walk. Somehow, we got there. :)

We were greeted after a few minutes of knocking on the door and asking around the side of the building by a quite jovial Indian man looking to be in his 30s. He was a bit chubby and had a nice size brown beard making him look rather like a South Asian Santa Claus. As soon as we entered, he started jabbering away about this and that, life in Nepal, yoga, his students. We drank some tea and then got down to business. His offer was for a 5-day yoga and meditation course lasting three hours per day and including lunch cooked by his lovely wife. The price was a bit too high for our budget, but after some extremely effective bargaining on Levent's part and our large desire to partake in such a course, Akil the yoga master agreed to give us the course for just a bit more than half of what he originally said. Nice work, Levent. :) (By the way, this trip would have cost me probably twice as much if I didn't have my skillfully stubborn boyfriend with me.)

After this agreement we were really excited. We are in Kathmandu for this week so what better way to spend our mornings and afternoons than with jolly old St. Akil.

Anyway, after this we made our way to the nearby Swayambhunath aka the Monkey Temple. This is an important Buddhist temple on top of a hill west of Kathmandu. It's called Monkey Temple as a nickname due to the cute little guys who hang around there. It's pretty amazing. At the top sits a golden colored sort of pillar. It has four sides facing north, south, east and west each bearing the Buddha's eyes. These eyes are meant to look out over Kathmandu (and the world) to bring peace. Keep watching, Buddha, but maybe you should stare a little harder. The best and worst part of this temple on the hill, I think, is the climb up from the bottom. It has a huge set of steps leading up that would conquer even Rocky himself, I believe. We managed somehow to overpower the steep climb perhaps because the statues, sculptures and monkeys along the way provide a source of entertainment to take your mind off the increasing pain in your thighs and calves. The other great part is the view of Kathmandu. The whole city lies in the middle of a valley surrounded by gorgeous green hills. Simply breathtaking.

Our day ended with the climb back down the stairs, dinner and a movie. Yoga tomorrow.

Day 26

We got up early and moved to a new hotel - in the same area, but a better room with a cheaper rate again thanks to the bargaining powers of Super Backpacker. After breakfast we made the 40 minute walk to our yoga center and our yoga master, Akil. He again greeted us with some tea and non-stop yet pleasant chatter. The lesson started with some meditation where we attempted to put our feet in unnatural positions over our legs and sit quietly concentrating on a symbol or object of our choice. It was quite enjoyable when Akil began singing a mantra to help us all focus. I was able to quiet my mind a bit but definitely need more work. After this was the breathing exercises. For this we put our hands in a relaxed position (the position you normally think of for meditation with thumb and index finger touching and the other three facing out) and began inhaling and exhaling in various ways with both nostrils and mouth getting involved. Akil informed us that these exercises are very good for headaches and sinus problems. Needless to say, we felt very clear-headed.

Finally it was time for different stretching and yoga positions. The 47-year-old chubby yoga teacher was extremely flexible, able to touch his face to the floor while doing a split, for example. While on the other side of the room we winced with pain while leaning forward with our legs at something like a 45 degree angle. :) We'll get better though, don't you worry.

We went through a variety of yoga positions, some more painful than others with a few breaks in between for Akil to tell us about anything in particular that he felt like talking about including diet tips, marriage and sexual habits of Nepali and Indian people (to be fair we did ask, out of curiosity) and a little bit of his life and family history. Generally, it was a good time, and I think we learned a thing or two.

Then it was time for lunch. We were a bit nervous because of previous stomach problems after consuming the local food, but can I just say that Akil's wife hit it out of the ballpark. She cooked a simple meal of boiled (I think it was boiled) pumpkin with black sesame seeds, potatoes, rice, lentil soup and bread with fruit and yogurt for dessert. It was hands down the best local food we've had the whole trip. What else can I say other than I can't wait for lunch time tomorrow!

Finally, right before we left, Akil took us to the roof to show us the view and his animals. Turns out that the yoga master is also somewhat of a pigeon master. He owns four dogs and somewhere around 83 pigeons which he keeps in a coop. They range in colors from brown and white to black with a bit of purple to black and white to just white. They are really gorgeous (something I think not often said about pigeons). Apparently the pigeon is a symbol of peace in Nepal whereas in the US it's more of a symbol of dirt, I'd say. Anyway, we got to pet the pigeons and even take them out of the cage and throw them into the air like baseballs. Really good fun. Then, they come back for more.

Our afternoon basically consisted of reading, thinking and discussing yoga and meditation. We'll be back tomorrow for some more pigeon tossing, oh, and maybe a little more yoga, too. :)

safari and arrival in Kathmandu

2010-07-31T21:14:00.003+07:00

The rest of Day 22 and Days 23 and 24 - Chitwan and Kathmandu, Nepal

After lunch and a nap we went out for a jungle safari. With the weather being pretty decent (no rain and some sunshine), I knew that luck was on our side. This safari was not just a trip for viewing animals in the national park, for me it was a hunt for the elusive, illustrious Bengal tiger. Apparently during monsoon season, it is very difficult to spot one, but I felt lucky.

We started the safari and moved through the trees. It was rather Jurassic Park-esque. We went through the "electric fence" (small wire fence) on top of our "brachiosaurus" (elephant) and into the "wild" (jungle of the national park). For the first part I wanted to pull an Ian Malcom and ask the guide, "Now you do eventually plan to have animals on your animal tour? Hello?!" because we couldn't see anything.

Anyway, after some time we spotted a few wild boar, followed by many deer and lots of beautiful birds including peacocks. I was still set on that tiger, though. I called to it with my mind to bring it out for us to see. I waited, and we moved through the tall grass of the jungle. Eventually Levent spotted two rhinoceroses (or rhinoceri?). It was a mother and her baby eating from the lovely green plants and trees. The mother was quite protective, moving between us and her young, but we were able to get really close on the elephant. We saw the horn and the strong, armor-like skin of the two. It was beautiful. The most beautiful part, I think, was that these animals are able to graze and move about as they like with no danger from poachers, etc.

As we moved away, I kept my eyes peeled for the tiger whose name I'd been calling. I peered into the tall grass and under trees and in trees. Finally we moved out of the tall grass into a more foresty area. I concentrated really hard, and then I saw. . . . the stream leading out of the jungle back to our starting point. Sadly, the elusive tiger remained elusive, and yours truly will have to wait until the next jungle safari in perhaps Africa or India. Damn. We should've tempted it with a goat.

Anyway, following this we had dinner and turned in for the night.

Day 23 - Chitwan and Kathmandu

We woke up again around 6 am, this time for a short bird-watching tour. Unfortunately, this is not a good time of year for bird-watching as most of the birds have flown elsewhere until the monsoon ends. We did see a few though, but the most interesting part was conversing with our guide about Nepal, the people, the government, the issues. I really enjoyed that conversation. If you ever visit Chitwan, I would definitely recommend our hotel to you - amazing staff and awesome activities (Unique Wild Resort). They should pay me for that.

After breakfast it was on the bus to Kathmandu, the capital and biggest city here in Nepal. Our bus ride took longer than expected as we were waiting in mountain-side traffic. There are only 2 roads in and out of the city so it tends to get backed up pretty easily.

We weren't looking forward to the city again to be honest. Chitwan was so green and beautiful, and we didn't want the dirt and hassle. Luckily, Kathmandu is only slightly dirty and a little bit of a hassle with salespeople, etc. We found a hotel in the backpacker area which is full of shops selling everything from clothes, jewelry, and trinkets to trekking gear and package tours. It's quite a nice place to walk around although you get guys trying to sell you hashish every now and then. They take "no" for an answer pretty easily though. :) We basically just walked around some and then called it a night, tired from the bus ride, I suppose.

Day 24 - Kathmandu

Today we woke up late (for the first time in 3 days) and had a leisurely breakfast. Now that we have a week left and are at our last stop basically, we feel that we can slow down and take things in (or ignore them completely) as we like. After breakfast we made our way to Durbar Square which is the central part of Kathmandu containing all the palaces and temples. We paid for our ticket, found ourselves a guide named Krishna, and were off.

Krishna first showed us temples built by kings of different dynasties and the main palace. After this we saw the Kumari Ghar which is the home of the Kumari (living goddess). This is a small girl believed to be the reincarnation of one major goddess named Durga. The current Kumari is six years old, and we were able to see her. She came to the window to look down on us and a few other foreigners (for a small offering of course). Photography of the living goddess is strictly prohibited, but they do sell postcards with her picture on them. Go figure.

A girl who has all the proper physically attractive features (among other requirements) is chosen to be the Kumari and then she lives in this palace until her first menstrual cycle. Her day is filled with appearances at the window and blessings of Nepali and/or Buddhist people who are allowed to go up and see her. She can study if she wants and see friends if she wants. Nice life, huh? She is not allowed to walk around or touch the ground outside the palace and so is carried if she leaves, for example at the time of the big festival in September. Pretty amazing.

After this Krishna led us around to a number of shrines, temples and palaces for different gods. There was the sculpture of the god of law and justice, the shrines to Vishnu and Ganesh, the erotic art temples, and also the Bodhi Gaya tree which is the same kind of tree under which Buddha received his enlightenment.

Krishna then left us, after filling our heads with information which I will try to remember most of, if I can. We were satisfied and headed back to Thamel (the backpacker district) where we took a nap for a few hours and then ate some dinner.

Now we are back at the hotel contemplating our next big adventure which looks like .... bungee-jumping! There is a place in Nepal near the Tibetan border boasting one of the longest bungee-jumping spots in the world. We went to ask about it and have become overtaken with excitement and fright. Looks like we'll do it Wednesday. Ok... signing off!

jungle blog

2010-07-29T11:42:00.002+07:00

Days 20, 21 and 22 1/2 - Pokhara and Chitwan, Nepal

This is Stephanie reporting to you from inside the tiger's mouth, the elephant's trunk, and the crocodile's teeth - that's right, the Jungle! This is the reason for the lateness of this blog. I'm in the middle of a jungle, but I happened to find an internet connection. How strange.

Anyway, Day 20 was our last day in the lovely city of Pokhara, and the monsoon finally decided to show itself and took up the whole day with rain. We took this opportunity to watch the rain from our balcony, books in hand. It was quite nice, but we knew it was time to say good-bye.

Day 21 started out at the Pokhara bus station where we were finally able to see a really good view of the Himalayas. The clouds cleared a way a bit, and let me tell you - it was amazing! (Hold out for pictures). The bus from Pokhara to Chitwan was 5 hours and we arrived back in the south and the blazing sun.
Chitwan is actually Royal Chitwan National Park - home to lots of animals including elephants, crocodiles, tigers, rhinos, deer, etc. It's the most popular National park in Nepal.
Upon arrival we searched for hotels and signed ourselves up for a nice package deal including 2 nights at the hotel and lots of activities around the park. We ate lunch and went off on a sight-seeing tour which started out at an elephant stable, included a museum, and ended with a sunset on the river. The elephant stable is rather sad, however. Each elephant is chained to a pole under a shelter. They eat and step back and forth in a hypnotizing and saddening rhythm. You look on for a little while and then move on with your lock-free legs.
Our dinner was the first Nepali food I had tried (sad since we've been here a week now). It was delicious! Lightly curried vegetables, rice, a kind of soup, yogurt and salad. Too finish it off was Nepali chocolate which has a sort of orange color, tastes nothing at all like chocolate, but is really delicious.

Half of Day 22
We had to wake up at 5:30 am for today's activities. We had a nice breakfast, and it turns out that if you aren't full they can bring you more food :) I indulged in a little extra hoping it won't be counted on the final bill, hehe. Anyway, then we were off on a canoe trip down the river where we saw not one but two crocodiles! Following this was a jungle walk where there is the possibility of seeing any number of animals. Levent saw a deer, and I saw nothing except gorgeous greenery and some termite houses. It was beautiful though. After this, we were treated to another half an hour of elephant torture, I mean, stables. This time we got to see the babies, but sadly couldn't play with them.
Finally, elephant bathing. There were six or seven elephants in the river with their "mahouts" or trainers. I decided I would help out with the bath and so climbed on top of one of the elephants. It then proceeded to take river water with its trunk and fling it onto its back and into my face. Ahhh, refreshing. Then it bent down and rolled over spilling me into the water. This is about the time I noticed something floating in the water and discovered that elephants are not afraid to shit where they bathe. That was enough for me. Thanks though, buddy, for the good times!
Now I am sitting at the internet cafe, clothes wet with river water. We have a few more activites after lunch which I will describe later on (I hope!).

discovery

2010-07-26T16:49:00.002+07:00

Day 19 - Pokhara, Nepal

I've discovered something new yet again. It's a new feeling that I haven't met with before. It's flight. It's taking to the sky.

This morning we went for our paragliding trip. We waiting for some time - for the right wind and the right amount of sunlight. Apparently the sunlight is a necessary part of it because the warm air helps you to rise, just as it does for birds in flight.

Before taking off we watched the birds - the black eagles and hawks soaring around the mountain tops. What were they flying for exactly? for pleasure, searching for prey, or just because they could?

My flying instructor and I ran down the mountain as our parachute caught the air, and in the middle of running, my feet were no longer able to touch the ground and we were swept up. It was truly amazing. We seemed to be now at the mercy of that mysterious goddess, Wind, but I suspect the instructor was more perceptive of the ways in which to calm her and soothe her into doing his bidding. Over the trees and lake we went, up the mountain and down the mountain, straight and then twisting right and left, watching the ground fly by my feet, wondering how far up we really were. My only complaint was that it didn't last long enough. Just at the peak of my appreciation, we were moving toward the ground and landing, feet touching earth again. I looked up jealously to the other still in the air, soaring in circles like birds.

Another discovery I've made is about learning. I used to think backpacking couldn't teach you anything. I used to think one week, two weeks would never be enough for you to find out anything, that no less than a year was required. However, I've seen that although a year, of course, is ideal for really getting to know and understand a culture and its people, food, etc., any amount of time can teach you something. There is much to see and taste - about a country, about yourself, about life. I'm glad to have made this discovery. I don't know everything, but I know something, and I love that.

It's early in the day for this blog. We still have the evening in front of us, but if I discover something new, I might let you know about it, or maybe I'll just leave it to you to find out. :)

Here's to a learning experience - every single day.

:)

2010-07-25T19:42:00.005+07:00

Day 18 - Pokhara, Nepal

Today started at 5:50 am when I woke up (not know what time it was) to a little bit of sunlight and an excellent view of the mountains from the hotel room balcony. I went to the bathroom and was ready to start off my new day right here under the Himalayas when I looked at the clock. Upon discovering that it was earlier than 6 am, I went back to sleep for another hour and 15 minutes.

At 7:15 am I woke up really refreshed and ready to start the day, all smiles. The day smiled back as the clouds moved away for some time, and we were able to see two peaks of the Himalayas from our balcony - huge, looming snow-covered peaks in the distance. Absolutely gorgeous.

Following this we set out to the town for breakfast and a bit of shopping. This lakeside area is full of restaurants and shops with lots of cheap things. I bought some things, a couple of gifts for some special people (this means you, Henry!). :)

It's really a delight shopping around here. No one is too pushy, and most people are polite. We set about making some plans for the following days here including a trip tomorrow morning . . . . . . . .

Paragliding! We'll be leaving here at 9:30 am tomorrow for a small mountain near the Himalayas to paraglide through and see all the sights much closer up. I am thrilled - hope the weather is nice so we'll be able to see as much as possible, and of course, I'll have my camera with me.

We also bought plane tickets for the day before our flight back to Turkey from Kathmandu to Delhi. So it looks like we are definitely in Nepal until the last day of our trip, and we are also thrilled about this.

That's about all to report about today, looking forward to tomorrow and a nice night near the Himalayas. Good night!

out of words

2010-07-24T20:45:00.002+07:00

Day 16 and 17 - Lumbini and Pokhara, Nepal

Day 16 Lumbini, Nepal

We opted to stay one more day in this lovely little town because we didn't get to see too much the previous day. Nepal is easier, a lot easier. Everything is kind of slowed down and more relaxed (much the opposite of the scene in India). People are kinder, gentler, easier to interact with. They say "Namaste" (meaning 'hello') without trying to sell you something or beg from you, just to say it. How refreshing. Another plus is that it's cheaper. :)

Anyway, we got up early and rented bicycles to make our way around the garden. What a fantastic decision on our part. We spend two and a half hours on our bikes just exploring the huge garden area filled with ponds, creeks, flowers, swampy green rice paddy fields. Some of the ponds were scattered with lily pads and pink lotus flowers. In the rice paddy fields farmers rode behind water buffalo who were - plowing? I'm not quite sure what you call the activity done by water buffalo and men in a rice paddy field.

We explored several buddhist monasteries. All of them had golden sculptures of Buddha and were done up with intricate paintings on the walls and ceilings. Levent especially loved the slanted roof of the Chinese monastery whereas I had an eye for the Chinese symbols written downwards on the dark blue pillars.

We also saw the World Peace Pagoda done by the Japanese some time after World War II to promote world peace. Although this was unsuccessful, the pagoda is quite nice. It's a white, dome-shaped building with figures in gold around the sides. It's located next to a crane sanctuary, but unfortunately we were only able to spot one crane amongst the vast field with cattle grazing.

This is my favorite type of sight-seeing, I must admit - the kind that involves exercise. Our shirts were completely soaked with sweat by the end of the ride, but it was well worth it for the view and the work out.

Oh, Nepal, you are wonderful.

Day 17 - Pokhara, Nepal

We got up at 5:30 this morning to leave Lumbini on a 7 hour bus ride to Pokhara (the 2nd largest city in Nepal). It was raining, but during monsoon season you can't let that put a damper on your day. We had a promise of a hotel pick-up from the bus station when we arrived to take us to a good hotel belonging to the brother of the Lumbini hotel owner. Fingers crossed.

The bus ride was long and tiring and we stopped lots of times to pick up and drop off people on the way, but the view was breathtaking. We drove through luscious green hills and mountains, waterfalls running down from lots of places due to the rainy weather, goat herders taking their goats along the road, small houses and villages, stepped fields of, I think, rice, and just all out beauty in its natural form.

Plus, when we arrived, there WAS a hotel pick-up and it DID lead us to a nice hotel! Oh, Nepal, you are too good to us. Our hotel is situated near the lake of Pokhara with a mountain view as well. Apparently when it isn't so cloudy, there is an excellent view of the Himalayas so we are praying for the clouds to go away for at least a bit. In addition, we have a huge balcony which belongs only to our room and wraps around the whole thing. To top it all off, this room is cheaper than any of the shitty ones (aside from Hotel Huge Cockroach) we stayed in in India!

After checking in and eating something we took a short walk around. There are lots of restaurants, shops, travel agencies, and tour companies around. I bought a new book which will hopefully be better than the last two I bought which were complete crap, and we looked at the options. Almost anything can be done here from kayaking and rafting to boat trips and paragliding. It seems we will take a little rest from backpacking for a few days and have a nice vacation.

Lastly, we took a walk down by the lake and watched the sunset over the mountains and clouds. I don't know what to say about this other than there is nothing to say. I took quite a few pictures, but it's just mind-blowing. This place is gorgeous. So now we are back at the hotel room (which has free internet, by the way) to get a good night's rest so we can enjoy what this place has to offer tomorrow. Much love coming your way from a very happy Steph and Levent in Nepal!

Namaste!

2010-07-22T20:16:00.002+07:00

Day 14 and 15 - India and Nepal

Day 14 Varanasi, Gorakhpur, Sunauli, India

Varanasi turned out to be one of the best places in India for us. The night before we spent some time with one India guy from our hotel learning about Hinduism and the caste system in India (which is still in practice today in some ways). It was really interesting and answered a bunch of questions like "Why is the cow so holy in India?" Apparently God resides in the cow - in the old days the doctors prescribed cows' milk for a newborn baby for the first 3 days of its life.

Anyway, we woke up the next morning to a delightful breakfast on the rooftop chatting with a French guy and a Canadian about their travels through the subcontinent.

Afterwards we boarded the train from there to Gorakhpur - a stopover on the way to Nepal. We arrived in Gorakhpur around 8 pm tired and with all intention of staying the night and resting til morning. However, as we started to look around this chaotic little town by the train station we found that almost nothing was available, and the hotels that were available looked like good places for a murder mystery scene. We quickly ate something and hopped on a bus for the border, exhausted but just wanting to get out.

Unfortunately when we got to the border we had to stay there, and the hotel we found wasn't any better than the ones we'd left behind.

I'm talking shared, gross bathroom, disgusting, windowless room, falling apart mattresses, the works. To top it all off, upon removing the blanket from the bed because it was too hot we found an incredibly large cockroach sitting there.

I couldn't sleep very well on account of thinking of a cockroach on my face or under my clothes while trying to sleep. We also got out of there with a quickness!!!

Day 15 - Belihya and Lumbini, Nepal

We entered Nepal with generally no problem and felt somewhat relieved. The Nepalese immigration officer was extremely nice. A jeep and a local bus got us to the small town of Lumbini world-renowned as being the birthplace of one Siddhartha Gautam aka the Buddha. It's a very small town with just a few hotels and a really big park dedicated to Buddha. It encompasses lots of monasteries, meditation centers, temples and finally the temple built for the Buddha's mother which holds the spot where the man was born around 560 BC.

We checked into our hotel which is quite clean and comfortable and basically the Hilton after the one from the previous night. :)

We sat talking to an Italian girl a bit who lives in Kathmandu. She gave us lots of helpful tips on Nepal, and we bought ourselves a guidebook.

After this we made our way around the extremely beautiful gardens and monasteries of the park. We visited the spot where Buddha was born which is marked by a rock in the middle of the temple dedicated to his mother.

After that we were tired from the walking and last night's lack of sleep so now we are back at the hotel resting and deciding where to go from here.

Looks like tomorrow we'll be heading to Pokhara which is west of Kathmandu and the other big city in the country. So far Nepal is turning out to be a little piece of spectacular :)

'wild'life and the quest for shaving cream

2010-07-20T19:47:00.003+07:00

Days 12 and 13 - Khajuraho and Varanasi, India

Day 12 - Khajuraho
Sadly it was time to depart this small, lovely town for something else, but how could I depart without paying tribute to the "wildlife." Let's start with our dinner on a rooftop restaurant next to a tree containing a huge (and when I say huge, i mean HUGE) flock of parrots. Now I don't know about you, but the only time I have seen parrots are in a pet shop, someone's bird cage or at the zoo. Here the birds were flying freely around and around squawking at their leisure. It made for an interesting but extremely loud meal for us. When dusk finally came many of them perched on the tree setting off a brilliant light green to mix with the dark green of the leaves around them. It was gorgeous.
In addition to this (and not just in Khajuraho but in all the cities we've been to), there are many stray animals - everything from rats and dogs to goats, cows and water buffalo. These things (especially cow which is a sacred animal in Hindu religion) roam the streets freely eating the trash as they please and basically not paying attention to much around them. The cows walk down the street with an incredible disregard for the motorbikes and autorickshaws whizzing by them. Their patience could be a lesson to us all.
I mean imagine you look out your window right now to see a couple water buffalo sticking their noses in your trash can. What would you do? Call the authorities? If you were in India, you would do nothing, probably wouldn't even notice. :)

I also had a small run-in with a cow at the train station last night. We were waiting there for quite a few hours after a death-defying jeep ride from our city to the city a few hours away where the train station was. This driver also had an indescribable disregard for buses and cars coming right at us. Somehow we made it there (and too soon I might add because he had to drive like a maniac for some reason).
Anyway... we took our seats on the platform waiting for the train to come. One of the seats open happened to be next to a cow "grazing" on the plastic bag next to the bench. Normally cows just leave people alone, but while we were sitting there she slowly made her way over to us. She stopped with her head basically even with mine. I was unsure what to do so Levent and I started petting her. She then licked my arm and though I felt a bit disgusted I didn't do anything. Then she moved her head upward, we guessed it indicated a desire to be scratched on the neck. Levent obliged, but then she began to stick her nose way too close to my face. I gently pushed her away, and she moved her head down and began to poke my leg with her small horns in a half-assed but still not nice manner. I jumped up and screamed a little to the amusement of all around me, but then someone got up and gently pushed her away. Away she went but not before taking a little of my dignity with her. :)
We boarded the sleeper train, and that leads us to...

Day 13 - Varanasi

This city is a little more east and located on the Ganges river. We got off the train in the morning fully expecting the harassment of the rickshaw drivers and on it came. After we fended them off and got to the part of the city we wanted to get to, things were looking up. There is a large maze of small alleyways all leading down to the river and to the ghats. The ghats are where Hindu people come to clean themselves and worship in and by the Ganges. Varanasi is one of the holy cities of Hindu religion.
Varanasi is most famous for its cremation ceremonies. People come from many different cities bringing their dead to be cremated by the river. A guy at our hotel explained the very long and complicated process of cleaning and wrapping the body, buying the wood to burn the body with, burning the body, putting the remains in the water, and the post-ceremony traditions. When you walk by these burning ghats, you (the foreigner) can stand there and watch the wrapped bodies burn (no photos allowed though). It's all quite interesting.

We walked around Varanasi today - mostly in search of shaving cream (which we didn't find) but we did make it to the post office, and I ate my first street food. It was some kind of vegetable mixture stuffed inside a fried bread thing - a bit spicy but good. After that we found a nice restaurant/cafe where we enjoyed food and the rain as it came down and cooled the city. The rain was wonderful though because the temperature has changed (at least for now).

We are going to leave tomorrow for Nepal. We have our train ticket almost booked and now it's time for a bit of research to know what to expect (if one really can while traveling). After that I suppose we'll enjoy the rooftop view of rain over the Ganges!

resting

2010-07-18T20:02:00.002+07:00

Day 11 - Khajuraho, India

First I would like to correct myself because in yesterday's blog I wrote "Khajaraho," but the name of the town is actually "Khajuraho." Please excuse me for that.
Today was a slow day. Levent got sick from last night's food so after breakfast we proceeded to basically take a rest. A little shopping, a little eating and mostly taking it easy.
We are still enjoying the small town atmosphere while soaking up the heat. That's about it.

Tomorrow we plan to leave for Varanasi (a city about 7 hours west of here by train), but we haven't booked any tickets yet so we'll be running around (stomachs-willing) for bus and train tickets.

Let's see if I can think of anything exciting to say about today. . . oh, I bought a new book which cost about $2 including exchanging a book I'd already read.
Looking forward to having more to write about soon!
Thanks again for reading :)

a little touch of paradise

2010-07-17T22:03:00.003+07:00

Day 10 - Khajaraho, India

Except there is one happy medium in an Indian summer - the night train from Agra to Khajaraho. They have an air conditiong along with blankets to keep warm under. I stayed up enjoying it even though I was tired.
The train ride was quite enjoyable, and we neared Khajaraho being welcomed by fields, pastures, animals grazing in said pastures, trees interspersed throughout. The train station is located in the middle of this, 7 kilometers from the town.
We got to the town and started to feel good. It is a small town with lots of green around. You can still see trees, and there aren't so many vehicles around causing noise pollution. Because summer time is out of season in India, half of the shops here are closed making it even quieter and more pleasant. It's a lot cleaner here, and the smell of urine, although still present, is not as common as elsewhere.
Our hotel is a little off the main road and therefore very quiet.. as soon as we checked in, we knew we'd stay here longer than intended. We have officially decided to take our time from here on out. We are going to relax and not rush around to see things. We'll let the things come to us. It's made a big difference in our attitudes - towards travel, towards India - I think that and getting out of fly-infested Agra. Aaaaahhhhh, om, om om :) (think meditational chant).

We took a nice rest in our hotel, run by a very sweet man with lots of experience in the area. He gave us a heads up on a good Indian restaurant, and we had lunch there - the food finally seeming to agree with my stomach. After this we made our way to a group of Hindu temples that this town is famous for, otherwise known as the Kama Sutra temples. They are extremely elaborate structures dedicated to such Hindu gods as Vishnu, Siva, etc. They are so intricately detailed and have small sculptures of people and animals, dancers and musicians, and most famously people in different erotic positions (don't worry, I got lots of pictures :).

Then, something wonderful happened while we were walking around the temples. The sun went behind the clouds, a slight breeze came, and it started to rain. The weather felt wonderful. We have walked around outside this evening feeling almost comfortable. Little slice of heaven, this place.
We will be here tomorrow as well. There are a few more temples to check out, but of what we'll be doing exactly I am not sure. I just know I won't be in any rush.
Good night.

the other side of Agra

2010-07-17T21:51:00.002+07:00

Day 9 - Agra, India
It was our second day in Agra. We woke up knowing we had a full day ahead of us, images of the Taj still fresh in our heads. What did we do? We hired a bicycle rickshaw driver to take us around to a few of the other sights - another tomb (that of the grandfather of the woman the Taj Mahal was built for) which looked like it was amazing in its hayday, but was rather run down now. We saw the "Baby Taj," another tomb built in the likeness of the Taj Mahal but as a much smaller version, hence the name. It had much more intricate details and a view of the Yamuna river. Finally, our "driver" took us to a park across from the Taj Mahal to take in the grand sight from the opposite bank of the river. It was quite a nice view, of course, but we were done. We were tired and had had enough of the sightseeing. Back to the hotel.
It was somewhere around 2 pm, and we had a train to the next city at midnight that night. All sick of sightseeing and lots of time to kill. We had a nice dessert and drink at an air-conditioned cafe where we met a few other Americans. They were three girls who had been doing an internship program with educational development in the west of India, the state of Rajasthan. We shared some experiences and opinions of traveling here. It was really nice to talk to some other travelers and relate stories and know that our opinions are shared. :) (Oh good, then it's not just me.)
At this point, we decided to visit a bazar in another part of the city, and this is where we were really faced with the poverty of India. In all the big cities we've seen it, but here it was so apparent in the heat. The flies in Agra seem to run the place. They are everywhere, literally - on your face, in your face, above, behind, circling shit, sitting on shit, flying around and around and never clearing a spot for you to walk. The dirt roads are filled with trash, and the people feel perfectly comfortable continuing to throw more and more trash on the ground. I'll never forget the image of one man who was laying there next to some kind of "water" probably made up of pee, oil, trash, and who knows what else, just laying there on top of the trash not even bothering to swat the flies from his face and body. It is so hard to believe. I look at it, I see it, and yet I have trouble believing it's real.
On the other hand though, through all the heat, the soaking wet clothes, the trash, my body rejecting the food, I wouldn't trade it. I wouldn't be anywhere else in the world right now. This is part of travel - it punches you in the face with things, it throws up on you, and it shows you things you couldn't even imagine beforehand. It's ugly, sometimes really ugly, but it is what it is.
One thing I've discovered: There is no happy medium in an Indian summer... except....

The Taj

2010-07-15T21:54:00.002+07:00

Days 7 and 8 - Agra, India

So yesterday basically involved a long train ride from Ajmer to the city of Agra. We left around 3 pm and arrived at 11 pm with no hotel, no real idea where to stay, and in the dark. We hired a taxi driver to take us to the area of Taj Ganj right near the Taj Mahal. Unfortunately, at the time of arrival the power was out, and it was difficult to see 2 feet in front of us, let alone which hotel we could go to. We also had a taxi driver who claimed to "feel responsible" for us. He assured us that he would take care of us. Taking care of us apparently involved following us around from place to place talking to us about where to look. Even when Levent almost yelled at him to ask him to leave, he still followed us and tried to give us his phone number for the next day. Perhaps it was a nice gesture, but when you've been hassled by endless amounts of taxi drivers all day long, it becomes enough. Anyway, he finally left and we chose the hotel that we could see aka had a generator. We promptly went to sleep with good intentions to wake up at dawn and see the sunrise at the Taj Mahal.

Day 8
The alarm went off at 5 am. "Do you wanna get up?" I asked Levent. "Do you?" he responded. "Not really," I said, and we went back to sleep for 2.5 more hours. Luckily (I think), the morning turned out to be pretty cloudy so the sunrise probably wasn't that great anyway. :)
We had a small breakfast at our hotel and made the 2 minute walk down to the South Gate of the Taj Mahal. What can I say for it other than simply spectactular? It's too big for pictures (although I took quite a few). It's too big for words almost. This monument, dedicated to the 2nd wife of the emperor at the time, Shah Jahan, is a huge structure made of white marble. It's surrounded by 3 gates, 2 mosques on the east and west side, and 2 other buildings of whose purpose I am not sure. The white of the Taj contrasts amazingly with the red sandstone of the gates and mosques. It is rather simple in detail, but the beauty lies in that simplicity, the size and the large domes on top. It is also accented by the Yamuna River behind it which acts as both a background and a foreground. What a marvel. Amazing.
We also saw the Agra Fort which is a HUGE fort constructed of the red brick by the Mughal Empire, which Shah Jahan reigned over for 30 years. He also contributed to the building of this fort. It was used after his empire by several other ones including the British in the 1800s. This place is also amazing and just HUGE (like I said before). The outer walls seem to go on for miles, and it's filled with white palaces, halls, small mosques, and courtyards.
Unfortunately, in the middle of this sight-seeing we started to get really worn out from the walking from place to place in the heat. We had had enough sight-seeing for one day. We decided to call it a day, but definitely a fantastic and worthwhile day.
The heat has started to wear on us, the relentless taxi drivers and salesman always asking questions and putting things in your face. Anyway, it's all part of the challenge and the fun of backpacking, and I can feel us getting better at it - the negotiating, bargaining, firmly but kindly saying "no." I feel proud of us.
We spent the rest of the day relaxing, and I attempted Indian food again for the first time since getting sick. It was a nice vegetable korma. I enjoyed it, but my stomach had had enough after about half of it. So far, so good. :)

So tomorrow we have a train ticket for a town called Khajaraho, home of the Kama Sutra temples, among other things. We don't leave til 11:30 pm tomorrow so what will tomorrow bring? There is a supposedly fantastic ruined city about 40 kilometers from here so I suppose we'll be there. If not, there is still plenty to see around here in Agra.
Thanks again for reading. Good night :)

small town camels

2010-07-14T11:45:00.004+07:00

Days 5 and 6 - Pushkar, India
We got up late in Jaipur, got a bus ticket to Pushkar and had breakfast. We got on the bus to Pushkar via the city of Ajmer, Jaipur leaving a bitter taste in our mouths, but that's ok. The bus took about 2.5 hours to Ajmer and then another half an hour to Pushkar. It's a small town in a hilly area. The town has lot of colorful, ancient looking buildings. Hotels line the streets. A guy on a motorbike stopped us to talk about his hotel. We took a look and talked him down from 720 Rupees ($14.50 or so) to 500 Rupees a night ($10 or so) - thanks to Levent's amazing bargaining skills (he wanted me to add this :)). The room was nice with a balcony and AC. You step outside to the smell of curry and the sound of cows bellowing. There is a lake here which a gentleman informed us no longer contains water due to lack of rain this year. It is a bit disappointing because the lake view would have been really nice, but the town is nice itself. It's not overwhelming and sweltering. The salesman hassle you in a kind of polite way at least taking the time to greet you with a "Good Morning" first.
Day 6 - Pushkar
This town is a real bright spot in our journey. There are lots of cool clothes and trinkets to buy. I bought a new notebook made with hand-made paper. We found an excellent cafe on the "lake" called the Sunset Cafe which has an excellent view (or would be more excellent if there were a lake instead of just a large puddle) with views of the ghats (where the people come to wash themselves in big pools of holy water). The food is excellent as well. Anyone traveling to Pushkar? Check this place out!
We went to see the famous Brahma temple which is a Hindu temple dedicated to the god of its name. It was quite cool, very colorful, lots of people around praying and giving flowers to their god. Hinduism seems to be quite a peaceful religion - lots of vegetarians, for example. Perhaps I can elaborate on it later.
Anyway, in the afternoon we took a camel safari which was really fun. Levent and I each had our own camel and guide to help us steer. We made our way outside the town to the dessert-like area and small villages. We interacted with (can't say talked to as we didn't speak the same language) some of the people from the local village. They didn't want money from us, however. What did they want? Cigarettes. One woman tried to get some cigarettes from one of the Korean guys on our tour, but when he refused, she threw water on him. It was quite funny, and a few minutes later he returned the favor.
My camel kept trying to stop and eat anything it could from the side of the road which was quite entertaining. It was a beautiful creature with big, watery eyes and long eyelashes. He let me pet him with no trouble. Finally we watched the sunset from atop the camels. Good stuff.
We ended the evening at a cafe near our hotel with some pizza and live drum music. Levent played guitar a little bit alongside the drummer which was cool. We listened to the sweet sound of Spanish from the girls at the table next to us and of course drank a bottle of cold water. Pretty sweet experience in this town overall.
(On a side note, everyone keeps mistaking us for Spanish - it might be due to the fact that lots of Spanish people visit here, or more likely it's due to Levent's large, Spanish sideburns.)

So today is Day 7 - We are headed from here to Ajmer and onto Agra, home of the Taj Mahal!

Escape from Delhi, Enter Jaipur

2010-07-12T21:53:00.002+07:00

Days 3 and 4 Delhi and Jaipur

We left Delhi around noon. We hoped to escape the heat for at least a few hours on the air-conditioned, 6 hour ride to Jaipur (South of Delhi in the state of Rajasthan). The ride was rather uneventful other than a boxed lunch of Indian food and some interesting conversations with a couple of Indians. One guy was a doctor who gave Levent some advice and some creme for his knee, and the other was an Indian lady making her way to a town for a meditation course. This course involves 10 days of meditation and complete silence and introspection. It's something I've heard about and have been interested in but will most likely have to save for the next trip.

We found a hotel for a relatively good price in the city center of Jaipur after going through the norm with the rickshaw and taxi guys all offering to take us somewhere for "cheap price." Time for some food. However, on the way to the restaurant it hit me... the strange feeling down in my stomach, that something not so right. I have heard from lots of travelers that getting sick in India is just part of the process. I guess I can consider myself initiated. At dinner I ordered something which I wasn't able to eat, but could only stare at with disgust and shame. I didn't want the waiter to think I was insulting his food, but I couldn't possibly put that food into my mouth. I drank a banana shake and ate a few spoonfuls of rice. A few hours later I was sitting with my head in the toilet "emptying my tank" so to speak. I guess my weak stomach and sensitivity to spicy food are gonna be against me in this country. Ah well.

The next day (Day 4) I woke up and didn't feel like eating. It was Sunday as well so most things were closed, and we made our way to McDonald's where I drank a Sprite and a strawberry milkshake for breakfast. Delicious.
Now it was time for sightseeing, and we didn't know too much about Jaipur so we were just walking along the road when stopped by a friendly guy in a taxi. He just kept jabbering away and our first instinct is to ignore since most every cab driver bothers you at least a little. However he finally made a deal that sounded enticing - 30 Rupees an hour for a tour of the city. "Hmm...." we thought considering and discussed a little bit in Turkish (our protected language which no one can understand here). We finally agreed, and hopped in for the ride.
Of course there is always a catch. First, he took us to some "palace" which didn't seem to have a name, and we paid 30 Rupees to some guy to go in and walk around. There were no signs giving information, but another man told us he would help us out and give us a tour. We could pay "as we liked." We told him no thanks and walked around ourselves not really knowing what we were looking at. Then, we left.
"Nice place, huh?" our driver said. Yeah, sure, I guess so.
The tour followed with a couple other places - a palace in front of the water, an elephant house holding 4 or 5 elephants just standing there together not really doing anything and a few tourists taking pictures, and finally a factory where we could buy cloth, shawls, etc. This is when I was really feeling sick (because of yesterday's food) and needed to take a rest. It's also when we knew we were getting duped by this driver who apparently was just taking us to his friend's places where he could get a commission every time we spent money.
He dropped us back at the hotel but not before giving us his card and making us promise we would call him if we wanted to continue. Thanks buddy.

I slept some, still wasn't hungry, still couldn't eat or drink. Finally we had to go for dinner - Levent's stomach was in full working order. On our way to this restaurant we met not one but two more guys trying to involve us in conversation. We managed to drop the first guy without much trouble, but the 2nd guy insisted that he was a musician who wanted to play music with Levent. We ended up giving him a little money for some supposed project for helping children. Was it real? It was hard to tell, but the way he pitched his story was just like that of a top-notch salesman. He had pictures, things written by other foreigners who had donated, and he even gave us a lecture about how everyone should share what they have - for example, we could give 1000 Rs to his charity. We settled on 100 (about $2) and went our separate ways.

It was tough in Jaipur. It gave me a really negative feeling about the people. It felt like everyone who talked to us pretended like they wanted to meet us, practice their English or just be friendly, but in the end they all wanted something more - the mighty dollar. I don't know though, I mean what would I do if I were in their shoes? If I were one of the poor here in this place? I am lucky to have what I have, but I don't want to give a penny to someone who makes up a story so I'll throw a few dollars their way. I have a lot more respect for the old man or the little boy who just comes up and puts out his hand.

So that was Jaipur - untrustworthy guys, sickness and bitterness. I want to leave on something positive though - the city didn't feel so hot. :)

the heat

2010-07-10T10:17:00.002+07:00

India - New Delhi - Day 2

I have never been so hot in my life. We have air conditioning in our room, but the minute you step outside you start sweating. It is unbelievable. You look at the foreigners walking around, and all of their shirts are soaked through with sweat, but when you look at the Indian people, you'd think it was an autumn day in New York city the way they are able to wear long-sleeved things and long pants without any trace of sweat. Suppose we will just have to get used to it.

I wanted to comment on the food again. It is AMAZING, especially if you are like me - a vegetarian. This place is heaven for you. There are quite a few restaurants which don't even have meat as an option on their menu. After the meat-loving, zero-vegetarian-option, must-eat -meat-at-every-meal food culture of Diyarbakir, this is a dream come true. They should change the name of the country from the Kingdom of India to the Kingdom of Vegetarianism. (This is partly due to the Muslim rule against eating pork and the Hindu worship of the cow)... more power to it.

The sleeping - as there are lots of poor and homeless here, people seem to be able to and have to sleep anywhere. Inside the train station, families are sitting there or laying there on the ground talking or resting or sleeping. One might think they are just waiting for a train, but I think they live there. Also, walking around one of the temples, a guy just laid down on the floor where you might walk and slept. They are sleeping on medians, on rickshaws, on the sides of streets. How can they do it? I guess there aren't a lot of other choices.

Yesterday we saw some really excellent things... a few elaborate Hindu temples - one topped with golden domes, another completely white. We saw the Red Fort, built in the time of the Mughal Empire (Muslim empire) to defend and later taken over by the British when they arrived here. It was HUGE and beautiful and very red. We also saw the Jama Mascid - India's largest mosque, and although we couldn't get too close as it was Friday (Muslim holy day), and lots of people were praying and we aren't Muslim, it was amazing. Definitely the most beautiful mosque I have ever seen. I would like to go back and take a look.
Finally, the coolest thing of the day - Humayun's Tomb. His wife built this for him after he died in the Persian style of architecture. It is gorgeous - red and white, a white dome on top, decorated with what look like Jewish stars. We were in awe.
(Pictures to come soon on facebook, I hope.)

Lastly, I have been trying to figure out what I want from India, why did I come here? Most people come for the huge architectural structures, the beautiful landscapes, the tigers, the amazing food, the peace through meditation and yoga, and the experiences that can be had.
Why did I come? As of now, at the end of day 2, all I can say is beauty, peace from the natural and definitely tigers.

We are leaving New Delhi in a few hours for the city of Jaipur. No idea what we'll find, but it's time to get out of this place.

Don't Trust Anyone, not even me, but follow me!

2010-07-09T10:38:00.002+07:00

India - New Delhi - Day 1 - First Impressions

This is the dirtiest city I have ever been in. On the drive from the airport to the hotel we felt the sweltering heat as we watched the woman walked by in their colorful saris and skinny, dark men stroll by in pants and t-shirts. People had set up tents made up tarp on the side of the road. They were cooking and relaxing and living right there with the street dogs and quite a few rats.

There is a lot of construction going on, and this is apparently due to the Commonwealth Games which are approaching and beginning in October. It makes the city especially the newer area, quite a pain to walk through. However, I suppose the city doesn't always look like this.

The smells - walking through the city is like taking a different tour which only your nose participates. There is everything from the wonderful smell of incense easing out of the temples, to marijuana as the guy smoking a joint walks by, to delicious smelling frying food, to car fumes and finally the most prominent - urine. People are perfectly at ease to relieve themselves most anywhere near the street. It's a rather pungent and unmissable odor.

The streets seem to be a breeding zone for untrustworthy guys trying to sell you something. We had one guy try to inconspicuously follow us down the street and tell us where to go. "Where are you from? Where are you going? Why don't you go THIS way!?" One guy even used the tactic of "Don't trust anyone around here, ok? Not even me... but please, follow me this way."
Nice try, buddy.

The traffic is somewhat reminiscent of Ho Chi Minh City, Vietnam except we are all driving on the left side of the road - cars, buses, rickshaws, taxis, motorbike taxis, pedestrians fill every space and crossing the road is a bit of a problem at times.

The HEAT - can't really say enough, it's just HOT here.

On the other hand - there are the positives... the food is amazing and cheap. The people are interesting and colorful. There are men in turbans, other backpackers, women in colorful saris with lots of earring and dots on their foreheads, everything.
Lastly, our hotel has air conditioning... a huge plus.

Mostly, it's just day 1 and this is a big city. I have no idea what to expect for the rest of India, and I'm mostly trying not to expect anything. I am just hoping that every place we go holds something of beauty and something to learn about. Time for breakfast.

flat 4 rent

2010-07-04T12:58:00.003+07:00

This is day 4 of searching for an apartment on the European side of Istanbul, and I've never had to search for an apartment before - at least not like this. The shitty neighborhoods are just too shitty, and the nice neighborhoods are a little too nice. I keep thinking the gem is just gonna pop up for us - the perfect, clean, 2 bedroom, one living room, kitchen, bathroom, top floor apartment for 800 lira or less a month. However, it doesn't. Meanwhile I feel like I've been walking for 3 days straight, and I've got the back pains to prove it.

Hoping to find some relief on craigslist. Please, Craig, please.

Yesterday we walked through the Kurdish area outside of Taksim (the really touristy area). I don't know if it was in my mind because Levent told me we were in Kurdish land, but I felt like I was in Diyarbakir. I was reminded of those little alleys across from the famous Ulu Mosque. These are the alleys you run across because one sign on the main road tells you that if you follow this way you'll find an Armenian church and a four-footed minaret. Who would want to miss that when searching for the historical gold of Mesopotamia? You can get lost in these alleys, and I have on a couple of occasions. They are filled with trash and children in dirty clothes running around. Little boys are shooting at each other with toy guns or kicking a soccer ball around. Little girls are talking to each other in high-pitched voices as they walk hand-in-hand. They all stop to stare at you (the foreigner) when you walk by. They sometimes yell "hello! hello!" at you, and boys wait til you walk by and shoot at you from behind. "Hey! I'm not the enemy!" you want to explain. "I'm the one putting money in the community by coming here as a tourist, don't you understand that?" No, it's a child.

Anyway, I found myself wanting to immediately depart from that little district and walk around in a much nicer area that I couldn't afford.

Looking back on living in Diyarbakir - tough but feels like an accomplishment to get through it, and although I feel like I want to leave it behind, I never will. Those 9 months spent there are now a part of my past and therefore are a part of my life. Life goes on there, and I've left it behind, but it's found itself with me forever. Life is funny.

slump relief

2010-05-30T20:46:00.003+07:00

It was one of those days again, one of those that I thought I'd left behind when I flew to the US. Going back was partly for revival, and I thought I'd more or less accomplished that. However, I managed to slide back into that old Diyarbakir slump I'd grown used to in the previous months.

I woke up late for no other reason than there was no reason to rise early. Still couldn't go running, didn't have to go to work, nobody home but me. Thursday and a month ahead here.

Anyway, I decided that I had to do something, and since the weather was sunny I headed out to Art Street with my current book which I was really enjoying (The Color Purple). The whole theme of the book was something to be taken into account especially at a time like this when I was just wandering around aimlessly. If you are going to wander aimlessly, at least you should observe and appreciate your surroundings down to the beauty of the colors - the yellow orange of the burning sun, the deep green of the leaves on the scattered trees, the dark red of the uncomfortable cushion on which I sat.

I sat there reading. My phone rang. It was Levent. We talked for a minute. My speaking English on the telephone prompted a guy near to me inquire if I were a tourist (in Turkish). I just said 'yes,' but as we continued the conversation we found we had a mutual acquaintance in his sister. I had taught her at the language school a month ago. He called her, gave the phone to me, and she immediately informed us she was coming down to hang out. At the time of this conversation with her brother I actually couldn't remember anyone named Nazli (pronounced like Nahz-luh) in any classes, but I thought why not? I'll meet this girl. Maybe she wants a private lesson.

As soon as I saw her though, I thought "oooh! How could I have forgotten?" Nazli is a short, bubbly girl with long black hair always complemented by big hoop earrings. She's also somewhat of a hero. We made plans to have dinner and hang out the next night.

She wants to learn English and practice English, but as of now her grasp of this language is not very good so in addition to having found a friend to spend time with I also get to do it in a 2nd language, Turkish, which is quite enjoyable. My Turkish isn't perfect, but you should know I'm feeling pretty confident about it these days.

Normally on a Sunday night I'd be feeling some dread about tomorrow being Monday with absolutely nothing to do: still can't run, there is no beach, seriously lacking in friends, but I don't have to feel this way.

Basically this is blog is sort of a 'thank you' to Nazli - for the friendship, for the Turkish practice, for the relief from Diyarbakir slump, for helping me to realize that opening your eyes and getting into a conversation can take you somewhere. Where? It doesn't matter, you've just got to go.

spirituality

2010-05-20T21:12:00.003+07:00

I have met a witch. Also, I have met a missionary. Dawn the Witch is currently renting my father's beach house in Stone Harbor, NJ. Dawn is a nurse temporarily living there but hoping to move to New York. Barbara the Missionary is currently in Albania, but when I met her we were sitting in the airport in New York waiting to board a flight to Istanbul. Barbara is participating in a mission trip in Albania and Greece. She told me that people in Albania don't know that God loves them and so wants to let them know.

The witch is a firm believer in what she is and what she does. She practices meditation and burns incense. She casts spells - spells for protection, spells towards others (positive and negative).

Missionary Barbara is also a firm believer. She prays constantly. One of the first things she said to me was "God told me to tell my neighbor he loves him/her. God loves you." Thank you, Barbara.

The witch prays to one specific goddess coming from Greek Mythology.

Missionary Barbara prays to one god.

The witch feels spirit. She can feel these around her, in the atmosphere and in her atmosphere.

Missionary Barbara saw a vision of Jesus Christ.

The witch can see the future. She has predicted things which have happened.

Missionary Barbara asks God to show her knew things and told me to do the same. She told me about some ruins off the coast of Israel that I had never heard of before. When I told her or my ignorance to these she explained to me that God had just shown me something new.

The witch uses her power to help her patients. She uses it to feel how they are, to empathize with their pain and to understand what's going to happen to them before it does.

Missionary Barbara goes on mission trips to heal people with her touch like God said can happen when you lay your hands on them.

The witch is a big fan of dropping the F bomb all over the place when she talks.

Missionary Barbara prefers to drop the L Bomb usually with the word "God" before it.

The only difference I can see - Missionary Barbara was way too pushy. She asked me if I had a Bible, and I said no. Then, she began reaching in her bag, and I started to say, "Uh, sorry.. well, I've got a lot of stuff, just not sure that uh... ok.. sure why not?" She proceeded to pull out a small pocket size Gideon's. Was she satisfied with just giving me the bible? No, of course not! She then had me write my name in it. After that I had to sign a small notebook that she had complete with the name of the city I live in and "Thank you for the bible." She insisted that I write exactly that. Afterwards, she asked me for my address in Diyarbakir, but fortunately (or unfortunately) I have no idea what it is. Ok, now was she done? No. She then picked out 3 different passages from the Bible which she had me read aloud and then underline. Wow. Finally she showed me some white pages in the back of the Bible where I could re-write these passages (in order to commit them to memory?), but that's where I drew the line. "Oh, I can do that later," I said. I then tried to check her ticket to make sure we wouldn't be bible-reading seat buddies for 9 hours. She was 60 something, and I was 28 something. Shhhwwewww... relief.

this time around

2010-05-15T04:47:00.003+07:00

Here I sit in my grandmother's house in the final days of my visit here to the USA. When I first got here it seemed to be passing slowly (mostly due to the separation from one special person on a different continent), but now that I sit here with just the weekend standing between my flight and me it seems a short time. A lot has been accomplished. I've seen a lot of people, met new people and by new people I mean Henry (does he count as a person yet?). It's been a really family-oriented time, and it was fantastic.

Jen's wedding in which I was a bridesmaid was a few weeks ago, but already it feels like last year for some reason. I don't know what that's about.

Anyway, as I am about to leave I feel myself really trying to suck in all things American - what the United States is and what the United States does. Perhaps I should clarify - East Coast US. I'm doing this not because I'm really sad to leave this country but because I want to remember the small intimate things about this lifestyle.

Students have a tendency to ask a lot of questions about American life, and at times (not having really lived here for 5 years) I find myself struggling for the answer. I don't just want to remember for them though, I'd like to remember for me too. I've been to quite a few unique and interesting countries, but my own is a phenomenon in its own way.

For example I want to remember the really obnoxious guy at the Phillies game who yelled at the other guy in the Yankees hat simply for daring to wear a Yankees hat in Philadelphia. He also yelled at another fan who threw back a homerun ball hit by the opposing team yelling "We don't do that! We're from Philadelphia!"

I want to remember the small town stuff, the useless gossip that you here. You'd think there would be an end to it since everyone knows each other and everything about each other, but no, there always manages to be something new to talk about. Wait, who got a boob job? Who's pregnant now? Who's a witch? Oh no, they didn't!

I want to remember how important our sports are. I spent the last 2 weeks at my Dad's place with a game on, in fact, more than one game on, every night. It's so nice to get caught up in that excitement. Although it doesn't matter to everyone, sports is something that has connected me to a lot of other people and I'll always love it for that as well. Go Flyers and Phils!

I want to remember the small memories I've just made with my family - Jen's wedding - 9 people from my own family attending when we aren't even related to them :), babysitting Henry by myself for the first time, the Phillies game, getting completely wasted on Mother's Day because I thought it would be a good idea to take shots, Tony Randall's Word Quest game, Sorry!, cooking dinner with my Dad, sitting around with Baba talking about anything and everything, incredibly successful vegetarian lasagna at Pam's, I'm sure I've left out quite a few things but they are in my heart for sure.

How lucky I am to have the family I do. :) and I'm stealing this from a greeting card I saw some time but they put the "fun" in dysfunctional!

Henry

2010-04-29T21:54:00.003+07:00

Look at him. Look at the way he loves and is loved. Now he knows only love or need. He feels only the warmth that you give him, and he gives back his own warmth willingly. He knows only that it feels so nice to be with you because you hold him and you kiss him. He puts your fingers in his own mouth... for what exactly? I don't know, but you can perceive it as a kiss. It means he loves you. It means he is glad you are near.

When you look into his eyes, you smile and laugh and say sweet things. He smiles back and would laugh if he could. He doesn't say sweet things because he can't yet, but he pushes back the sweet energy which is full of love and happiness. The whole room is consumed by its smallest being.

When you look at him and smile he doesn't know what sins you have committed. He doesn't know what wrongs you've done or what wrongs have been done against you. He doesn't know that you have damaged and have been damaged by life, by people, by time. He only knows that you smile and that makes him smile.

He doesn't judge because he doesn't know that he can. He doesn't know all of the opinions one might have on life, on politics, on love, on how to raise a child, on where to live, on how to communicate. He only knows one thing - to smile and to be smiled at.

His is the most beautiful, the most important form of communication - the wide mouth, the shining white teeth (if he had any) - the symbol of a person's joy.

Look into his eyes and see us all at our best, our most pure. In the time before we learn of evil, of pain. In the time before we try to shake off our need of others, our happiness in each others' love and smiles.

Yesterday when I held my nephew for the first time, I knew warmth and I knew wonder. I knew that I know nothing if I don't know love - for life, for learning, for opening my eyes every morning, for my brothers and sisters in this life, for teachers and students, mothers and fathers.

housewifeing and realizing

2010-04-11T22:50:00.004+07:00

For almost a month now I have had only half a job, a quarter of a job really. At ten or twelve hours a week, can I consider myself part of the work force? I don't know what you think but my latest "adventures" involve something to do with being like a housewife. I can prove it by the fact that I'm wearing my boyfriend's track pants outside of and around the house.

'What kind of globetrotting is this, Stephanie?' You may be inclined to ask this question, and in fact, I have no response for you. During the day I'm generally bored enough to consider even a trip to the corner store as something interesting to do. They do have chocolate there.

My "husband" goes to work, and I sleep until 9 am or 9:30 am. I check my e-mail. I eat cereal. I watch "The Office" which I've downloaded and been watching like some kind of addict... just one more episode, just one more episode and then I'll stop. I was running, but I can't even do that now because my knee is bothering me. I've got to take a break from that. These past weeks have been a sort of break - from high school kids, from making money, from productivity. Damnit. I shouldn't complain, but I need a break from this break. This is not the kind of break I like.

On the positive side of this "housewifeing," I've managed to cook some really edible (one person in particular even referred to them as fantastic) vegetarian eggplant burgers, do lots of laundry and even mop the kitchen floor once. Wow, my mom would be proud of me, I think.

That's enough of this "adventure" for me though. My break from a break is coming in about three days. I'm leaving Diyarbakir for Istanbul followed by the US of A. How do I feel about this? Well, it's honestly the first time I've left a place and not felt sad about the place. Leaving Taichung, Guadalajara, Istanbul and especially Ho Chi Minh City were really emotionally difficult experiences. This time it's emotionally smoothing. It's nice to change it up, I suppose. However, Diyarbakir will get its revenge - it's letting me know that it knows I'll be back. I will, and it'll laugh and smile. Maybe when I come back, I'll learn to walk in its streets with respect. I'll learn to greet its ancient walls and streets. I won't cringe at its street children.

The city itself is so old. So many secrets must lie here. So much blood has been shed here. Victories have been won and losses have been taken for centuries. This is Mesopotamia after all. I must walk these paths. It's beauty is somewhere in its darkness, in the blackness of its walls and the stones of its streets. Perhaps all I need is my magnifying glass - for my eyes and for my mind.

Wow, I didn't intend for this blog to take that turn, but I'm glad that it did. I think it took that turn of appreciation because I know I'm ready to travel again. I'm ready to discover again. Today Levent and I looked at travel visas for India and flights for Nepal. That gets the blood flowing more than anything.

See you out there soon :)

bedtime

2010-04-02T03:06:00.002+07:00

I should be in my bed. I should be somewhere in dream world or going through a REM cycle. I was completely exhausted just 3 hours ago and now wide awake. I made myself get up early this morning to run. I didn't take a nap. I walked around. At 8 pm I was ready to pass out with my book on my chest. It's 11 pm now, and ok that's not exactly late but it is to me.

Why does sleep evade me this night? Why has it evaded me so many times this week, this month? Why am I afraid to lay down in my bed?

Is it because of what lies ahead? Certain travel plans, certain things to do and certain good-byes to be said.

Is it because of a cage? Knowing that stepping outside for a breath of fresh air at this hour is not a great idea.

Is it because of the boredom? Spending all day without so much as a task, how can I even feel like I deserve a rest. A rest from resting.

Is it because I'm a woman? Needing to think of everything and solve every problem that I have and even some other people's before even considering allowing myself to fall asleep.

Is it Trainspotting? Heard it was a good movie, but watched it and now just feel really disturbed by everything I saw.

To tell you the truth, I don't even want to sleep. I did, but not now.

I'd like to write something. Stories asking, begging to be written are floating around inside this brain of mine. Days of productivity feel far behind me, and I can only hope that some still lay ahead.

Probably if I just go to my bed and lay down I'll fall asleep. Why don't I just go?

dance lessons

2010-03-23T15:38:00.004+07:00

I am feeling extremely unmotivated today. Do you know those days, probably weekends for most people, when you really don't have anything planned so absolutely nothing gets done? I am sitting on my bed with the computer on my lap, it's a beautiful day outside, but I can't even be bothered to get up and take a shower.

You might know that I'm now working about 60% less than I was last week which is good and not good. It's a relief not to have to go to the high school every day trying to come up with something that I can do with those teenagers who aren't gonna listen to me anyway, but on the other hand, it isn't too nice to have so much free time in a place where I don't have many friends or things to do.

I even had all the good intentions of trying to be somewhat housewifey - you know, learning to cook some more things, keeping the kitchen a little cleaner, all the things that I've never been known to do in all my life. This seemed like a good idea until I was cooking something two nights ago. I found my fingers scrolling to the playlist called "DANCE!" on my iTunes, and then before I could stop myself, I was breaking it down in front of the vegetables. I realized how much I wanted to get Katie, Justene and James and head over to Go2 for a night of flailing around on the dance floor.

If there is one thing I've learned from living in Diyarbakir, it's how important social interaction is, at least to me. I'll never be the hermit type. I'll never be the girl who can be happy with a book for an entire day - part of the day yes, but not the whole thing. This is why I'm deathly afraid of all this free time I have. Sure, it's nice for a day or possibly two, but after that it leads to laziness, depression and overall tragedy.

Yesterday I went to a kindergarten in search of a possible job. I met with the staff and saw the children. Now I am waiting for a phone call back from the boss. It was an extremely positive experience there for me though, and I'll tell you why. 1) The women there were super nice and happy. They looked like they generally enjoyed working there. 2) The weather was beautiful, and it was so nice to stand outside chatting with someone with the sun shining down on our faces warming us. I feel like I've waited a long time to feel this weather again. 3) The Turkish English teacher, Pelin, said she really hoped I would start working there, and isn't it nice to feel wanted? 4) I got to be with some children. I really love children, and I miss teaching them.

I came out of that school feeling different, feeling like things were changing for me, in me, in the city, in the world. Something positive is happening, and although I'm sitting here alone in my room on my bed with no one around, I still feel like something good is coming my way. I don't have to be depressed by the things that have happened. I just have to look openly and see the opportunities and beauty in front of me.

Newros II

2010-03-22T20:52:00.002+07:00

I wrote a little something on the Newros festival a few weeks ago. You may recall this post. Yesterday was the first day of spring and the festival. I was very excited to go as lots of people had been talking about it, and this is something you can get only from living in the East and not the West of Turkey.

Levent and our friend Salih and I decided to go together. Levent had already been to one festival(the previous year) and didn't seem to thrilled about this one, but he took me anyway.

Anyway, the weather was beautiful, we had snacks, and off we went. We drove about 15 minutes down the road to the Newros park. Finally we found a parking spot and began walking to the site which stood about a fifteen, maybe twenty minute walk away from the main road.

As we approached we saw people dressed in the yellow, green and red colors that mark this celebration. Women wore long dresses with all kinds of shiny greens and blues and purples. Men wore yellow, green and red headbands. I wore jeans and brown shirt. Salih, not to be outdone in just a black jacket, bought a red headband. "Newros Piroz Be!" (Happy Newros!)

Levent asked me how many people I thought were there, and as I suck at guessing numbers of people I started out with "uh, 6,000, I guess?" He just laughed at me. "Ok, 2,000 then!" Turns out a million people were at the festival.

However, of these million people we noticed that of the people walking out of the place and the people walking in, the number was the same if not greater on the walking out side. Strange.

It seemed to take forever to get to the colorful flags in the distance that marked the site. We could hear the music and see some musicians on the large TV screen they'd set up. On we walked.

We stopped somewhere outside the flags to eat our snacks and drinks. Levent looked really reluctant to get into the crowd, but I wanted to. I expected that lots of people I knew were in there having fun and dancing. I took a few pictures and then in we went.

We moved through the crowd like molasses through a clogged pipe. People made circles and danced to the music. They sat on the ground with their families and ate. People sold all kinds of food - kebaps, fresh fruit, fresh cucumbers, doner kebaps, baklava, you name it. It reminded me of the fairs that I used to go to as a child except no rides or games.

Anyway, our time there consisted of crowds, music and the smells of uncountable amounts of food. I didn't see anyone I knew except one 8th grade student from the high school and one guy I met through Levent. I felt disappointed. Then, to top it all off a lady got on the microphone and began screaming into it about democracy and the political situation there. At this point, we had had enough.

So as for my overall Newros experience, I felt disappointed. Partly it was my fault for not participating in any dancing, however, I thought it was going to be more about celebration. I enjoyed the music but not the political talks.

I wonder if anyone else out there has been to this festival and can share their thoughts with me. Perhaps if I had gone with a group of girls or a group of people who like dancing I could have enjoyed the spirit of it more.

I'd love to hear your thoughts. Thanks for reading!

I understand

2010-03-15T20:07:00.002+07:00

I had a history teacher in high school who used to make me, well all of us, laugh a lot. I don't remember his name, unfortunately, otherwise I'd dedicate this post to him by naming it after him. He was a pretty calm, easy-going guy most of the time. His class wasn't too strenuous, and we could relax mainly. I remember that he used to do some fun stuff with us like read us the "Today in History" from the newspaper. You know, just some little things to change it up from the norm of lecture and slideshow.

However, he could sometimes be pushed to his limit. I remember one day the class made him angry for whatever reason. I think we weren't listening and/or were talking too much. At this moment he was at the front of the class, and he grabbed a pile of books and raised them high over his head. He breathed in shortly, and the anger was very clear on his face. He acted as if he would throw all the books down on the floor and just lose it completely. We all braced ourselves for the noise of hardback on tile followed by a sharp yelling, but he stopped himself. He breathed in again and placed the books on the desk. I don't recall what happened in the next few moments after this, but I think we all paid a bit more attention.

From that day until this one, whenever I thought of that teacher and that incident, I began to laugh - either out loud or in my head or both. "What a funny guy he was," I would think.

Not anymore. Now, on this day, I completely understand that guy and that incident. Just today I have felt like doing the exact same thing a number of times. So I just want to say to all the other high school teachers out there in the world trying to do something with a group of uncaring, selfish, whiny teenagers, I UNDERSTAND.

Levent

2010-03-06T21:00:00.002+07:00

When I think back to the first time he kissed me seven months and five days ago, I didn't know it would lead me on this day to write these words.

When he held my hand that time in Istanbul as we walked through the street for the first time together, I didn't know I wouldn't be able to walk next to him without holding his hand anywhere we went.

When I listened to him play the guitar and sing "My Baby Just Cares For Me," I didn't know I'd be hearing his beautiful voice every day and that those words would come true.

When we first took a vacation to Marmaris, I didn't know we would be back again to celebrate our six months together.

When I first said "I love you" to him by the sea in that uncontrollable and shaky voice not even sure I believed it but it was ready to spill out so I had to let it go, I didn't know it would grow into so much more.

Today I was trying to explain the happiness I felt. To me, he is the most beautiful person in the world. He's made me a better person and a more romantic person. And I never thought I'd see that day. :D Love takes down yet another, or should I say yet two others :)

ok

2010-03-06T20:52:00.002+07:00

My father always has a way of talking to me which gets under my skin. It's as though I could prepare and practice my debates hours and hours, days and days, but then when we see opposite viewpoints, he speaks and I just kind of say "ok, Dad" and hang my head a little bit. Damnit! Of course I love my father and greatly enjoy his viewpoints most of the time. Good thing for me and unfortunately for him, I still get to do whatever I want to do :)

Anyway, today's "ok, Dad" resulted from our discussion of global issues and propaganda and the overall disgusting world of politics.

So that being said, I guess I don't know what you can do for the world. If you want to do something big or small, maybe you should just smile at someone walking on the street or give a lira to the lady begging for bread outside the bakery.

I guess I can try listening to the kids at the high school instead of cursing at them under my breath when they don't speak English to me.

The world is cruel, but I guess you and I can try not to be.

Newros

2010-03-04T02:19:00.003+07:00

I wrote a blog last week called Newros. It included a lot about Kurds and Turks here in Diyarbakir, and it had a few pictures. I deleted it after being warned, but I've decided to write again on this issue. I've decided that if I don't add the pictures it's better, and I can still exercise my right to free speech.

I was in a high school class last week, and we were discussing festivals. In Diyarbakir (and apparently all over Eastern Turkey) there are Kurdish festivals known as Newros. It's once a year when Kurdish people wear traditional dress, do traditional dances, and celebrate their culture overall. I was very intrigued as the students' performed examples of the dances and tried to explain the clothes.

One boy took a scarf and began to show me traditional ways of wearing it on my head. The other students immediately whipped out their phones and began taking pictures. We all laughed and had a lot of fun. It was quite an enjoyable lesson (and those are well-appreciated nowadays there). Two of the pictures had me with the scarf on my head while other ones had me with the scarf covering my nose and mouth (think cowboy style). Also, they told me to hold up 2 fingers like a peace sign and so I did. Although I was ignorant to what was happening I was trying to delve into the culture. When in Diyarbakir....

Following this, the pictures were posted on facebook by the students, and following that were the warnings. At least three people warned me about putting those photos online and using the "peace sign." I didn't understand exactly what they were talking about, but I was determined to find out (as I wrote in the deleted blog).

A friend of mine quickly responded that the peace sign in this case was actually a "V" standing for victory for the Kurdish people, a rebellion. In short, the photos have me looking like a terrorist, and this is not good in Turkey.

However, most of the people who live in Diyarbakir are Kurdish not Turkish, but Kurds are generally disliked outside of the areas in which they reside. It's the old tale again - neighbor against neighbor.

The thing is that Kurdish people never officially had their own country. They were a nomadic people who are now spread out over many countries in the Middle East including Turkey, Syria, Iraq, Iran, etc. They have their own culture and language but no country of their own. Until recently in Turkey it has been forbidden to publish anything in Kurdish and although this is slowly changing, there is much discord.

How would you feel, ya know, if you weren't allowed to learn about your own culture in school? if your own history wasn't part of the curriculum? if you couldn't learn in your first language?

In Turkey, it must be Turkish, but the Kurds are not. So here we sit at a standstill. It's just another place growing hate for no reason, and what can be done?

As for my own experience, I have now met lots of Kurdish people at my jobs, and what can I say about them other than that they are, without a doubt, people. They are like you and me and Levent and Ryan and Thomas and Krisia. They are wonderful and unique and beautiful. Yet they are unwelcome in the place of their birth.

Anyway, I'd like to go to this festival, Newros. I think it would be a once in a lifetime chance to see, learn, appreciate, and generally have a good time with some people I know.

(un)believable

2010-02-23T01:56:00.004+07:00

I don't want to write this blog, but I feel like you might want to be updated. I went into school today so excited - my first practice with the boys' team. It was the time. I got to have my own team again if even for a short time. They were still mine, and I could help them, I could teach them.

I had prepared a full practice, written everything down, thought about my starting five, reconsidered it, made notes for the game tomorrow. I was so happy sitting in the teachers' room thinking of all these things. Ah, to be coaching again, to be a part of basketball again, to be affecting other peoples' basketball lives. The guidance counselor came in, and he asked me how I was. I told him, "I am excellent! I'm just planning some things for the team." A huge grin expanded on my face. He walked out.

A few minutes later I started thinking about how I didn't have anything with my schools' name written on it to wear to the game the next day. I decided I needed to take care of this situation and so headed down to the office to ask about it.

I asked the guidance counselor, and slowly but surely he informed me.

"Another guy is coming today to coach."

"Who? What do you mean?" I quickly shot back.

"He is the son of one of the teachers blah blah blah. You aren't going blah blah blah, and you have to do your lessons blah shock stab blah."

I didn't know what to say. He told me that the head coach wasn't the one with the authority to appoint me coach. I asked him how he found out that I wouldn't be coaching, and he said he had heard it from somebody who knows somebody who speaks to the management apparently. So I told him that I too had heard that it was I who was coaching. Then he wanted to know why I was making it a problem. Hmmm... good question... why was I making it a problem?

I guess they wouldn't understand. How could they? How could they understand my happiness in having the opportunity to coach again, to be a part of a team? I guess it isn't their fault.

Suppose it's my fault for putting any hope in anything to do with that god-forsaken place that calls itself a school. Deception seems to be all that comes from there. Probably to them it isn't anything, but to me it's just one more thing to drive me further down and away.

From not doing my residence permit, not giving me enough hours to live off of so I have to get a 2nd job, making me practically beg for my money when it's pay day, asking me to come to 2 hour meetings in Turkish that mean nothing to me and finally holding this sweet opportunity out to me and then pulling it away like I'm some kind of bull chasing the red. I am now. I am seeing red. Ole.

I've even started thinking of how I can get my revenge on them. I already told them I'm not coming back next year, but I wish I would've done it in some dramatic fashion. Like so:

"Stephanie, what about next year?"

"What exactly do you mean, Mr. Money-Grubbing Principal?"

"Well, are you going to come back next year and work with us?"

"No."

"What about if we give you a raise?"

"Hmm... wow, a raise, I never thought you could spare it, guess you might have to give up those leather couches, Your Honorable Animal-Murdering Scumbag, sir."

"We can offer you 30 cents more an hour, Stephanie."

"Listen to me, chump... I wouldn't come back here next year if you paid me 100 dollars an hour so take that, stick it in your porcelain tea glass and drink it!!!"

I'll think of something.

I promise I love the children, though.

true confessions

2010-02-19T20:51:00.003+07:00

I have just recently finished this book called Confessions of an Economic Hit Man by John Perkins. I would like to say it was enlightening, but that's not the word. I suppose it was something that opened my eyes wider to what I already knew a little about. It did this because it was a real story, a real account of what is happening - to you and me and because of you and me.

In this book, Mr. Perkins wrote of his time working for the US companies - the oil companies and other "top dogs" and money-makers, so to speak. In short, big business of America, the consumer nation. His job, which began in the 70s, was basically to go into other "less-developed" countries where natural resources abounded, and convince them of their need for development. He created a system where the countries would become indebted to the US for electricity systems, hydroelectric systems and the like. However, as these poor countries could never actually pay us back with money, we would make them pay as back in natural resources, UN power, and finally, if needed, military assistance in our wars. These men went into this job with the full knowledge that they were raping a country for the greed of certain individuals at the top of the ladder. In the book, Perkins spoke of his work in Indonesia, Saudi Arabia, and Ecuador to name a few.

This is the way to make the rich of the world richer and the poor poorer. We rob a country of its resources and land, killing off indigenous species of plant and animal along with people. The local tribes have lived on this land which, unfortunately for them, is a great spot for the black gold that is needed to keep us happy. Whose happiness is more important? Whose life is more important?

While reading this book, I felt sick to my stomach. I don't know exactly how other Western countries contribute to these awful crimes against nature so I can only speak from my personal experience. I have lived in America, and I visit it every year. I see the way people consume and use and buy these things that they allegedly need. I don't excuse myself from this. I am and have been guilty of it, too. We, the people, have been coaxed into this lifestyle of consumerism, and now we are trying to force it on other countries. Why? Not even because it's better but because it feeds our wealth. It puts steak in our mouths, Coach on our arms, and costs us ridiculous amounts of money to put gas in a car.

George W. Bush might be hated by most of the world's population, but what does he care with all the wealth he made from oil schemes? Somebody must care. More than one somebody.

There must be an end to all of this. It must be stopped. I have a real motivation for my vegetarianism now. It started without any solid reason, but now I have something to go on. I don't want to contribute to this consumerism. I don't want to eat a cow that wasn't ever able to see a blade of grass as it was fed on some high-protein soy product specifically made to make it bigger. This isn't right, not for it and not for me. These things in our world are not just there for the taking, they are to be respected as part of us, part of the way of our Earth.

Ok, enough of this preaching. I'm not asking you to change your lifestyle, but there are things you can do, small things that don't require you to sell your house and go live on the street. You can make an effort to take a shorter shower. Turn off the faucet while the toothbrush is in your mouth. Drink tap water. Hang clothes to dry instead of using the dryer. Turn off your computer at night. Be a vegetarian one or two times a week. Look on the internet for more tips.

I am a traveler. I have seen some of the world and spoken with some of its people. However, there is a lot left to see and do and a lot more people to meet. I intend to do that. There is lots to learn all over the world. Don't destroy it. Don't turn a blind eye.

coach

2010-02-18T22:37:00.002+07:00

It all started a few days back or maybe last week when a random student in my class said, "Hey Teacher, you are a coach!" What is he talking about, I thought. Crazy kids.

Then, it continued to happen. "Yes, teacher, basketball, you coach, yes!"

What is this a conspiracy?

Finally, the head coach approached me with the news that he would be out of town for a few days including the day of the first boys' basketball game (this Monday the 22nd). So who else in this school knows anything about basketball? Ah.... think real hard.... is there anyone?.... I don't know..... ah, right, Stephanie! Let's get the female English teacher from America to coach these 15 and 16 year old boys whose first (and for some only) language is Turkish. Brilliant!

As you might know, I have been a basketball player for most of my life and a coach for one or two of those years at least. I have loved playing and loved coaching, but I haven't been faced with this sort of a challenge before. Anyway, let's give it a try. Why not?

On Wednesday, I went to my first practice. Unfortunately I started out on the wrong foot when the head coach, who was late, left a message with the secretary for me to go ahead and start doing something with the boys which I totally did not understand when she explained it to me. From what she said, I only got that the head coach was coming late so I just waited around while some other boys played football on the basketball court. The coach was less than pleased when he got there, but no matter. Moving on.

My first practice: We started out with 2-1-2 defensive practice involving passing the ball around the perimeter while the defense shifted. I later came to find out the irrelevance of this drill as when the game starts, the boys commence playing half-man-to-man and half-three-guys-running-back-to-cherry-pick-instead-of-playing defense. Hehe, try to laugh it off.

After this the head coach informed me that he had to go inside to make a phone call for 10 minutes, and I should teach the pick and roll. This started with one boy complaining that he doesn't understand English and therefore doesn't know how he can be coached by this person - me. However, since coming to Diyarbakir, there has been a great improvement in my Turkish skills (and thankfully words like defense, rebound, shoot are used in both English and Turkish). So I tried with my Turkish to explain the pick and roll. This resulted in hectic running about and not actually picking anybody but dribbling near another player and then driving toward the basket like a bull in a china shop. On the positive side, I did teach one boy how to open up properly after the pick to look for the ball. Success!!

After this "success," one of the boys suggested "Mac yapalim?" (Let's play a game.) Who was I to argue with that? So we played five on five full court using the cherry-picking "defense" described above and "pick and roll" also described above. Oh, it's great to be a coach again!

I went to practice again today, and I was about 15 minutes late so I hurried. I really wanted to see how the head coach would run practice.

I arrived at 2:50 pm for a practice that supposedly started at 2:30 pm, and what was happening? Six of the boys on the team were playing pick up on one end while a few other boys were shooting around at the other end. No coach in sight. I chatted for a few minutes with some of my students outside the court. One of the boys from the 11th grade was trying to get me to buy his cell phone in order to get money to help his friend by some acne medication (apparently). Really? What are they thinking?

After this enlightening conversation, I moved on to the court and started playing pick-up with the guys from the team. We did this until the head coach finally showed up. The first thing he did was to engage in a shouting match with one boy who was playing with us but who wasn't on the team. The boy wanted to stay, but the coach insisted only team members were allowed at that time. We all stood by as the two yelled at one another until finally the boy left dejectedly yet angrily.

Practice then involved more pick-up but this time with the head coach playing. We played four on four half court until it was time for the kids to go home. So... defensive drills? offensive strategies? nothing? Ok, then. I guess everyone will be in good enough shape for the game on Monday. I guess everyone will know their role and execute it properly. I guess I'll be able to communicate well enough with them, the referees, and other team's coach in Turkish. We're ready.

Truth be told, I'm excited. Although I have to do this in a second language with high school boys who normally don't listen to me in class so probably won't listen to me on the court, I feel good. Maybe it's just good to be on the court again, to be playing, shooting, dribbling, defending regularly, and I know it'll feel good to walk up and down the sidelines again. :D Goooooo Doga Koleji!!!

untitled

2010-02-14T15:51:00.002+07:00

Sunday, the day your faced with a new week. I sit on my bed, blanket on my legs, computer on my lap. The door is closed, Alanis Morrissette is playing, the curtains are closed, but I know the sun is shining. What a strange city I live in. Places in the southern United States have snow. It's February 14th, and in this city I could go jogging in mesh shorts because that's how nice it is outside. I miss snow, but I am anxious for summer time. Diyarbakir doesn't rain on my parade, but nor does it snow on my parade, which is just as bad, really.

In my room, I'm staring at the book called "Writing Poems" and thinking of the opportunities that await me, poetically speaking, if I just open up a notebook, look at something and put pen to paper. What sort of picture could I draw, what sort of painting could I produce for myself, for you, for the world, of myself, of you, of the world?

I turn off the music because I can't concentrate. I need complete silence to write, silence to read.

Yesterday there was a man standing on the side of the road. I looked over to see what was behind him, a large hotel. But upon looking through him, he thought I was looking at him. He took the opportunity, and as soon as he took the first step I immediately regretted casting my eyes in that direction. I muttered some expletive. He was a beggar, of course. "Please," he said to me. He held up a card which I couldn't help but look at because a) it was very near my face and b) curiosity intrigued me. Something was written in Arabic which I couldn't understand, and probably he couldn't understand either but that wasn't the point. The point was for these sacred words of the Koran to move me, to move my hand toward my wallet and find a lira or two. I didn't hear the words that he spoke as I looked forward, giving him incentive to go away. For how long had he stood there waiting to make eye contact with an individual who had some pity? Sadly, I had none.

vacation

2010-02-05T16:56:00.002+07:00

So my two week vacation is coming to an end, and although two weeks is not a very long time this has been one of the most eventful ones yet.

It all started on a Friday at 10 am when I escaped from my private lesson an hour early as she was sick. It seemed the world was in line with my needing a break. Levent and I took a road trip over three days with our stuff and two cats and a Ford Focus. The first day was seven hours to Levent's parents' apartment in Adana. The 2nd day was spent around Adana, and the 3rd day was 14 or possibly 15 hours in the car from Adana to Marmaris. Awful.

Event 1: Basketball. This weekend of driving coincided with the SU Women's Basketball Alumni Game. It was the first one I had ever been invited to, and everyone was invited - the cut players, the ones who quit,etc. I can not describe the sadness and disappointment I felt at not being able to be there. Even now I do not want to look at the pictures because I already know the fun I missed out on. Inşallah I will not miss the next one.

Number 2: Diyarbakır. I started to develop a sort of hatred for Diyarbakır, the city that I am living in now in the east. As we left, I started to think about all the things I don't like about it and wish to leave behind forever - the conservativeness, lack of friends and other foreigners, being started at, not being able to wear running shorts or shorts at all for that matter. I began to dread the return, and I even wrote a poem describing the city as a hideous monster. Now that I am faced with actually going back though, I am mentally preparing myself. Levent is with me, and it will be alright. If not, perhaps I will just be more inspired for more poems and stories, and there is nothing wrong with that.

Number 3: The cats. We have been looking for a new home for the cats because of our plan to travel next year. Finally, one day, Levent was talking with one of his friends, and she knew somebody who wanted the cats. It all happened so quickly, and that very day we were meeting up with a woman whose name was I believe, Gülsüm, or something like this. Before I even know what was happening, we were driving her back to the house to pick up the cats and give them to her. Gülsüm stood about four foot eight (I swear!), and she had a stupid, annoying voice. This is the person we are going to give our babies to? Well, ok, she has a garden so it is better for them. (In Diyarbakır, they are always stuck inside.)
Just as Levent was putting the cats in the crate, and I was holding Fıstık for the very last time something happened that I did not expect. I started crying. I couldn't really believe it. It turns out that through all the times I said 'Stupid cat!' and pushed them off the bed or off the wardrobe, I really loved them, and I was so sad. They are so precious. They have personalities, and they feel. It just reminded me that being vegetarian is a wonderful thing. Animals are creatures, like people. They don't deserve death. They deserve a happy life. Even pigs. Put down the BLT. I was going to miss them so so much.

Number 4: Rhodes. I had to do a visa run to renew my Turkish visa and so I took a boat ride over to the island of Rhodes which belongs to Greece. The weather was rainy, the sea was choppy. I spent the 2.5 hour ferry ride holding my stomach and listening to the sounds of another lady bending over a trash can with a tissue in her hand. Lovely. Finally when we got to Rhodes the weather was nice. I walked around a park that was near the ferry station, and there was an ancient mecropolis there. However, it was the worst traveling I have ever done because I stayed there for about 2 hours and then got back on the ferry and went back to Marmaris. I just did it for visa renewal, but I feel like I really robbed myself of a travel experience. Technically I have been to Greece, but actually I haven't. I was dreading the ferry ride back, but luckily the weather was better and I didn't have to experience 2 more hours of sea sickness.

Number 5: The cats again. When Levent picked me up from the ferry station in Marmaris, he told me he had done something, but I had to wait til we got home to see. I started to run through all the things that he could've done, but what stuck out was the cats. I said, 'You didn't get the cats back, did ya?' He just nodded. Apparently the midget woman with the stupid voice was getting worried that the cats were not adjusting after only one day, and she was keeping them at her office instead of at the house with the garden, idiot. So like any good father, Levent got them back. I was so happy to see them. Beautiful things. :)
The new plan is to leave them here in Marmaris with his parents where they will have the freedom to go outside and be in nice weather. Of course we will still miss them, but we've got to think of them, right?

Number 6: Henry. My nephew, Henry Joseph Szkaradnik, was born on January 31st. He is the most beautiful chid I have ever seen (this is speaking totally objectively and unbiasedly of course). I love him so much. I want to hold him so badly, but now I have to be content with staring at pictures of him on facebook. I just can't stop myself from looking every day six times a day. What a miracle he is. I think I understand something more about love from seeing him and knowing that he exists. I hope that he can feel my love even though I am in Turkey and he has never met me. In a matter of months, I will look upon his face, touch his skin, and officially be a part of his life. :) I am so happy.

Number 7: Selçuk. Levent and I took a trip up North a little ways to a place called Selçuk. It is a small town filled with history. We saw Ephesus, one of the oldest civilizations in the world, the Virgin Mary's last place of residence as well as the temple of Artemis which is one of the seven wonders of the world. Not much is left of it, but it was a fantastic experience. I love mythology, and this was like a dream for me to see these places and feel the history of them. (Pictures will be posted on facebook in the next few days).

Number 8: 6 months. Levent and I celebrated six months together on Wednesday. It is really unbelievable to me that I am in a wonderful relationship with a fantastic individual. Normally I am a a great skeptic of love, and although I still do not know about the future, I know that we are happy together now. It is so beautiful, and for him I can stand Diyarbakır for a few more months, and he can stand it too because I am there. Every time we travel somewhere together, it is so much fun. I love sharing it all with him, and I just hope that these times last and last. There is so much to see and do and share. :) I never thought I would know something like this.

So now that this vacation is coming to an end, lots of new beginnings are coming as well. The departure from Marmaris involves a new upcoming adventure for the next few months. I will be busy at work. I'll see my nephew in a few months. The cats will have a new home. Diyarbakır will get warm again. Levent and I will take more trips.
Life is beautiful.

and it continues . . .

2010-01-20T23:45:00.002+07:00

So perhaps you are curious. I promised I would write again after my two weeks of vegetarianism.

Was it difficult? Not really. There were times when I was eating the free school lunch where I had to pick the meat out of the dish. Another time they were serving chicken legs so I had to get a bowl of sauce and eat that with my rice. Kind of boring, but I had to think of the animals who were brutally raised and killed for no reason.

Is it difficult? Sometimes. Levent keeps some sausage in the fridge to feed the cats with sometimes, and I can't lie and say to you that it doesn't smell really good. So far, I have been able to resist.

Anyway, the important thing is that I've decided to commit myself to vegetarianism. I think I need to do more research into this so I can really motivate myself - no meat, no leather wearing, supplementary foods that give me protein, etc. So wish me luck! and Join the cause!!

MEAT IS MURDER.

a decision

2010-01-08T13:48:00.003+07:00

Yours truly has made, yet another, important decision. Life changing and miraculous and all that jazz :)

This is something I've been contemplating for a long time. I've been thinking I needed to try it just to test it out.

As you know, in my time, I've done lots of experimenting. You might remember a previous blog where I described to you the art of eating dog. I've also tickled my palette with duck embryo, ostrich, kangaroo and a few other fine delicacies. Ah, those were the days.

However, I've decided that it's time to test my palette in a different way. I was watching a video sent to me by Krisia on something which is called permaculture. This involves living in a way that's good and productive for the environment - growing all of your own vegetables and having animals like chickens, dogs all in a very natural environment. What a brilliant idea at this time when the world is apparently falling apart. But, at this time, I don't own a home or any land and I don't really intend to any time soon so this isn't an option for me, but what is? Have you guessed it by now?

Vegetarianism. I've seen and heard about the ways that animals are bred and murdered for our hamburgers and bacon. I'm not saying that I still don't crave a good BLT from time to time, but I want to do my part. The more and more I think about the cruelty towards these animals and that we really don't need to kill them to eat, the more I realize what a great thing it is to boycott it.

Also, it helps that my boyfriend is vegetarian, and I've only been eating meat about twice a week recently. I've been wanting to try vegetarianism for a year or so now, and he has helped to push me over that edge. As of Wednesday (today is Friday), I haven't eaten any meat and I don't intend to for a full 2 weeks.

After the 2 weeks of no meat-eating has ended, I'll see how I feel and what I want to do, and hopefully yours truly will be committing to a meat-free, vegetarian lifestyle.

Good luck!

why I love Dyrbkr

2010-01-07T02:25:00.002+07:00

So if you read my previous blog about the wig lady you might (or might not) be wondering if I ever discovered her secret. The wait is over, ladies and gentleman, the answer is here. Are you ready?

As you might know, Turkey is predominantly a Muslim country and there are especially more conservatives to be found in the East, particularly Diyarbakir. However, even though the main religion is Islam, Turkey is still technically a secular country thanks to Ataturk in the early 1900s. Ataturk made the wearing of the headscarf for women against the law, and although many still don this article of clothing, it is not allowed in places of business - schools, offices, etc.

Therefore if you are a covered woman and you need/want to work, what do you do? You can't get hired wearing a headscarf so . . . you choose the next best option - a wig. :) Ahhh, thank Allah, I have figured it out. I confirmed this with a co-worker yesterday so now we can all rest easy.

Anyway, this is why I love Diyarbakir. Recently (in September, I believe) Turkey instituted a new law which banned cigarettes inside all buildings - bars, offices, restaurants, etc. Before this people used to smoke like chimneys anywhere they pleased - at cafes, in minibuses, on an elevator, you name it :) I've never seen a country that loved their cigarettes more.

Now, however, there are signs up everywhere. Smoking Prohibited, 69 lira fine! Oh no, I thought, what will they do? What's gonna happen now that everyone has to go outside?

Guess what happened - I walked into the veterinarian's office the other day with Levent to take one of the cats to get spayed, and what should be happening upon our arrival but one of the vets sitting next to the penalty sign happily smoking away without a care in the world. Beautiful.

Later I got on the minibus home from work, and the driver lit up a cigarette and blew smoke which ended up in my face. Ah, almost thought I was gonna have to live without that. Close one.

Lastly, I just got a new job, and I was sitting in the main office with the secretary, heater blasting at 30 degrees Celcius because it's freezing outside. She is using the computer, the phone, drinking tea and happily puffing away on her cigarette with all windows closed. Brilliant. The disregard for rules here is just fantastic. It almost makes me wish I smoked so that while in class I could suddenly light up and start chain smoking through the lesson. Who could stop me? I could even blow smoke in students' faces for messing up grammar and stuff. Who wouldn't learn quickly after that? :D On second thought, some of them might enjoy it. Hell, we'd all be smoking together in no time. Good for helping the class bond, I think.

untitled

2010-01-03T00:03:00.004+07:00

There's a place in the heart of the Middle East where a church is connected to a mosque. Muslims and Christians used to pray together. There's a place in Istanbul that used to be a church and now is a mosque but the presence of the two is visible to all who enter.

There's a reason you are told not to like Muslims when upon close studying you'll find that you believe in exactly the same thing. The reason is politics. The reason is control.

Christians killed people for religion, too.

There are places all over the world where women are covering themselves physically, mentally and emotionally because of something that feels completely natural to us all.

There are places I can't go to and explore and learn from because my country doesn't have "good relations" with their country.

There are people we look down upon because of . . . what?

Don't believe what they tell you. Find out for yourself. Talk to people, ask questions. Go there.

Religion is politics.