We've Moved!!!

I think I have mentioned at some point that we were moved from the As
Hotel about a month ago to a tiny little flat 10 minutes' walk from
school. Since that fateful day, Lydia and I have been dreading the end
of the teaching day when we had to return to the flat. It was tiny,
and I really mean miniscule. The kitchen could not fir 2 people at the
same time - not like small kitchens where if there are 2 people in
them they are constantly bumping into each other and trying to get
past one another. This is a different category of small. There was not
enough floor space in the kitchen for 2 people to stand in it at the
same time!!! The refrigerator was out on the balcony. Someone trying
to cook in the miniscule kitchen would have to walk past the oversized
dining table (as in, if you put the chairs at the table, you couldn't
walk by), through the cluttered living area (a couch, a love seat, 2
armchairs in a 3 square metre area) open the balcony door (the word
"balcony" being used here because I don't know if there is a word for
the 1 by 2 metre space enclosed on 2 sides by windows overlooking the
neighbours' balconies), go out onto the balcony (because the
refrigerator door opened towards the living room and so you had to go
out onto the balcony itself to open it) and get their stuff from the
fridge. This wasn't a long walk, as the apartment was tiny, however,
the various obstructions of the furniturial kind made it quite a feat.
The kitchen and the layout of the flat were paltry problems when
compared to the bedroom situation. As you may know, I was sharing the
flat with another teacher, Lydia, a delightful Irish lass. We get
along well, which is a very good thing, since our "bedrooms" were
separated by a window that runs the length of the room. The window had
3 ill-fitting glass panels, the middle one supposedly sliding on a
poorly-designed wooden track if you wanted it open. The result was
that because of the poor alignment of the glass and the badly warped
wood, the glass pieces didn't actually touch each other, except to
rattle annoyingly whenever anyone in the building opened or closed a
door, and more so whenever a door in the flat was opened or closed.
The window was high off the floor, and we're both about 5'3" so
fortunately we couldn't see into one another's rooms, but volume-wise
it was as if we were sharing a room.
Why did my bedroom have a window to the next bedroom? What was the
reason for this bizarre design? Ventilation. That window was the only
window in my room. There was no light from anywhere else. If you
managed to slide open the window without cutting your hand on the
glass, there was a one square foot space through which air could enter
the room. Not fresh air from outside. Not a breeze. But if you waved
the bedroom door in and out, you could get the air in the room moving.
That window was also the only source of natural light. My room was a
windowless, airless box.
The other bedroom was not designed as a bedroom. It was a sort of
sunroom. In fact it was so not a bedroom that it didn't have a bed. An
uncomfortable folding couch, yes, bed no. It also had no place to
unpack and store anything. When we arrived, it was a small sitting
room, with the couch, an armchair from the living room, 2 dining room
chairs, a round living room table, a set of 3 small square tables, and
a huge display cabinet filled with dishes. If this sounds like a lot
of furniture for one small room, it is. We moved out the chairs,
squeezing the armchair into the already crowded living area, stacking
the dining chairs out on the balcony next to the fridge, moving the
round table (along with the other 2 that were in the other bedroom
making it impossible to move) to a storage area above the bedroom
window, and putting the small tables to use elsewhere in the flat. It
was insane. What was left was a sofa bed, and the cabinet with plates
and stuff in it. The room had a lot of light (as opposed to the box
next door), but nowhere to put anything. No clothes could be unpacked
or hung up. Basically, the person in that room had to live out of a
suitcase.
I'm not going to describe the bathroom. The apartment was a hellish
experience and to go talk about the worst part of it would just take
me back there. It was bad.
So anyway, sometime last month not long after moving in, after
explaining to the manager that our accomodation was unsuitable and a
long, involved discussion about what exactly qualified as suitable,
and also a few thoughts on what I thought about the fact that he put
us in this place, we were told that we would be moving out and that
they would use that flat for a couple.
The couple just moved in yesterday, and we moved out. The apartment
we've been moved to is WAY better. It's definitely up to standard and
is about what I expected when we first moved. Comfortable, airy,
bright, spacious - it's great! There's also 2 sofa beds for guests!
The sofa beds are double beds. So all you potential houseguests, Lydia
and I have agreed that houseguests are a good thing :o) Let me know
when you're coming!
We also have a balcony that overlooks a garden. It looks like all the
people on the ground floor of the buildings in the vicinity have
access to backyard space that they've used to grow flowers and things.
In addition, there seems to be an empty plot that someone is using to
grow vegetables and things. The flat is on a bit of a rise and we are
on the top floor, so we have a view over the neighbours' buildings to
distant areas and in the distance we can see mountains! There's a
mosque at the bottom of the street, a really cheap grocery store at
the end of the road, and a bus stop about a minute from the house.
It's a 25-minute walk to school (or a 7-minute bus ride or a $2.50
taxi ride if we're really late).
It's very nice.
We're happy :o)

A Funny Thing Happened on the Way Home From the Baklavaci...

Many nights I finish work late. Classes finish at 10 p.m. and then I
walk home. Of course, in Spain, 10 p.m. wasn't late, but Istanbul is
kinda normal in that respect. My way home is very safe, well-populated
and well-lit, so don't worry mom! About 75% of the walk is through a
pedestrian street with lots of shops and restaurants at closing time.
Along the same street is a baklavaci, a dessert shop (And again mom,
don't worry, I'm not pigging out on baklava either). This place also
sells "chee kofte" which is a Turkish specialty that a lot of
unsuspecting foreigners have tried (and enjoyed) before finding out
that it is actually raw meat ground finely and heavily seasoned, then
shaped by hand into little lumpy things roughly the size of a large
meatball but then squeezed in the hand so that it is elongated and has
the imprints of the fingers in it... kinda bizarre. More bizarre is
the fact that it is often sold in the same place as desserts and
sweets... raw meat and baklava please!
So anyway, the baklava place is one of the few places in the street
that is not closing up when I pass at about 10:20. As a result, the
guys who work there are usually hanging out watching people go by, me
included. So over the past few weeks they've invited me in a few times
for tea and chat. This is not out of the ordinary, in fact it's a
normal turkish thing.
Last night I was walking by and decided to get some tulumba for my
flatmate and I. I was in the shop chatting with the guy, and he was
asking about what I do. He is kinda new so didn't know all the
details. So I told him I'm an English teacher and he asked me if I
know Ryan. There's no Ryan at Interlang so I asked him where Ryan
teachers. He points out the window in the direction of an English
school that was about a block away. As he points and I look, a guy
walks past the window. The baklava guy says "Hey! Ryan!" and invites
him in. Coincidentally, the very second that baklava guy was asking me
if i know this guy (whom I didn't know), the very same guy walked by
the shop! Baklava guy bustles us in, hands us little pieces of
complimentary baklava, bustles us to one of the 2 tables in the place
(it's tiny) and sits us down to chat with each other while he went to
serve customers that had just come in. It was hilarious! We were like
"I guess we're supposed to meet and make conversation now!" Ryan from
Toronto, and his friend Dallas, who is visiting from Montreal were
really nice. Dallas went to McGill - how cool is that :o) She's
thinking of coming here in September to teach.
As it turns out, Ryan and I live about 5 or 6 buildings away from each
other! We exchanged phone numbers and plan to keep in touch.
What's really funny, is that I just told Josh and Kris this story in
the staff room and when I said that the baklava guy asked if I know
Ryan, Kris said, I know Ryan. It turns out him and Dallas have visited
Kris's flat, because Ryan's a good friend of Kris's flatmate.
Geesh. Small world!

Being Different

Istanbul is different. It's different from any place I've ever been in
and everyone else who I've spoken to about it agrees. Turkey was a
place very similar in culture and customs to most of the Middle East.
Then Mustafa Kemal Ataturk came along and changed everything. The
script, the laws, the way people dress, the way women are treated....
Everything. A top-down revolution. So what does that mean? Probably a
lot of stuff, and people much more capable than me have probably
analysed it to death. But the things that I've noticed have a lot to
do with this, I think. Turkey's uniqueness stems from the fact that
the culture is based in Islam(Sunni though, not Shi'ih), but the
country is technically secular. Ataturk changed the script from the
Arabic script to the Roman script (thus making it easy for foreigners
to come here and be able to read things like street signs and stuff).
If I understand correctly, the women's dress normally associated with
arab cultures was banned. So women were not allowed to wear the full
head to toe covering gear. Although, you still see them occasionally
(when I was here as an exchange student, we irreverently referred to
them as "Ninja women" and considered it good luck to see one). Women
who feel particularly religious wear colourful scarves on their heads
and long skirts.
Where am I going with this train of thought? I dunno.
Istanbul was described by one of my students as "very cosmopolitan
because it has people from all parts of Turkey". Hmmmmm... This is
what is considered diversity here, that explains a lot. 15 years ago I
quickly got used to people staring at me constantly everywhere I went.
Most people had never seen a black person except on t.v. I was here
again visiting last year and the year before and people stared, they
had seen black people in real life, but it was still a rare event.
Some of the other teachers have a big problem with being stared at by
Turks (who don't necessarily consider it impolite), but they all agree
that the staring that they get because of their blond hair or fair
skin (or one teacher who is Indian, who gets stared at because of her
dark skin) is nothing compared to what I get as a black person walking
around here with dark brown skin and crazy hair.
However, as I noticed 15 years ago and still notice today, the staring
and the comments that I get do not feel like a negative racist thing.
It is pure curiosity. I don't feel like when I walk into a store
people are staring at me because they think I will pick up something
and run out of the store with it. Very often, the stares are
accompanied by smiles. People encourage their children and little
toddlers to look at me, and I smile back at them and most of the time
the parents are more excited than the kids! I decided a long time ago
that if this is going to be people's only exposure to a black person,
then I had better make it a pleasant experience! My flatmate Lydia
thinks that it's a crazy idea. She hates being looked at, and with her
fair Irish skin, dark hair and blue eyes, people tell her that she
looks a lot like someone from the Black Sea region. People generally
don't pay her too much attention here, but the few that do really irk
her. She was amazed at how many people look at me as I walk down the
street, and for fun, she sometimes walks a few paces behind to
observe. It's really funny, I wish I could see things from that
perspective, the way people walk by and pretend not to look, then pass
me and stop to turn around and stare. She said people sometimes trip
and bump into other people as well.
The other thing that I noticed is that people think I'm beautiful.
This never happens anywhere else. I remember last year when I was here
with Lyndsay and Aida and Veronica, they were saying that Turkey does
wonders for your self esteem, because people, men and women, young and
old, are constantly telling you how beautiful they think you are. It's
true, they do. I realise that their exposure is really limited. They
see Turks constantly. Anyone who looks even a little different is
exotic and beautiful. It's very flattering and you have to not let it
go to your head :o)
It's a nice place to be though, when "different" is a good thing!

Ishikawas in Istanbul (and other things)

On Monday night I had a call from Shingo, he was here with his wife
Amelia, and their 5-month old foetus for a visit. Lucky for me, I had
the day off on Wednesday, so I arranged to meet them and go to the
Grand Bazaar.

We met, wandered and a good time was had by all. Bargaining,
sightseeing, and just being tourists. Thanks to Shingo we found a nice
little tea garden, a nice respite amidst the noise and bustle of the
bazaar, and with the tea being only 35 YTK, which is the equivalent of
about $0.25, it was all good!

We then met up with Suzan and her husband, whose name evades me right
now, although when I think it might be Gokhan, it feels kinda right.
We had dinner at Hala, the favoured restaurant when I was in Turkey on
my 2 trips from Haifa. Well, not really dinner, Shingo and I had
appetizers. Then we went to chicheck pasaji. The Turkish spelling of
that would kill my blog if I try to type it here, but that's the
pronounciation. It's known for the seafood restaurants that vie for
your presence as you walk along. I've only eaten there once, about 15
years ago, however, at the entrance there's a place where you can get
deep fried mussels on a stick for 1 YTL which is something like 60
cents in euros, and stuffed mussels, for about a third of that price.
When I took Vero, Lyndsay and Aida there last year, we stood there and
had dinner and it came to like $2.50 each, and we were stuffed with
mussels ourselves! On Wednesday night I had my fair share. Shingo will
probably have the pics. Here's one of the 2 pregnant couples!

I seem to be one of the few non-Turks who eat the stuffed mussels in
the street. Okay, so the idea of having seafood being sold by a street
vendor is sketchy at best, and scary at worst, but I realise now that
when I was here as an exchange student, I was led around by the
locals, and did the things the locals do. Turks walk up to street
vendors and buy mussels, prepared with seasoned rice and stuffed back
into the shell. They squeeze some lemon on it and there you are. It's
absolutely delicious and a great snack. Eat enough and you can call it
dinner... really cheap. I didn't think twice about it when I was with
my host family or my school friends and we all stopped and ate them. I
never got sick then, and I probably won't get sick now. In case I do
though, I've found out the name of the active ingredient in Immodium
(that story is for another blog), and my flatmate has a supply, so I'm
good to go!

Despite my love for Turkish food, and my recent reintroduction to all
my favourites, I've lost some weight since I've been here. I've been
sticking to the Spanish meal schedule (also popular in Barbados, but
all meals about 4 hours earlier!). It works perfectly with my teaching
schedule, and it's much cheaper. Light breakfast, lunch main meal,
light late dinner. S'all good

I haven't shared the story of The Flat yet. It's still a continuing
saga and I don't really want to get into it until it's resolved. But
in a nutshell, the flat that Lydia and I were moved to is absolutely
tiny, has no privacy, and has a choice of rooms that are very loosely
termed bedrooms. One is a bedroom with a wardrobe and double bed and
nothing else, no room for anything else. No windows either, except a
sliding window to the other room which is actually a sunroom. Plenty
of windows, no bed except a very uncomfortable sofa bed, and no
wardrobe or anywhere to put your things. The kitchen is miniscule, the
fridge is out on the balcony, on the other side of the flat from the
fridge, the bathroom, I won't even get into. Suffice it to say, that
we looked at it in horror and let the school know that if they
expected us to stay there, they needed to think again. They're working
on finding us a better place, so it should be a matter of days, a week
at most.

The teaching is going really well. I really love my classes. I went to
lunch today with some of my upper intermediate students, and i love my
weekend students, as I may have mentioned one or two (or 10) times
before. so I'm really looking forward t otomorrow. For the past 4
lessons, the pair of private students that I've had have been not
coming, alternately, so basically for 4 lessons I've had to prepare 2,
which is fun!

Demonstration!!!

So I haven't blogged for a while, will update soon. But today is Labour Day, or the Turkish equivalent thereof. This doesn't mean a day off and a barbecue on the beach, as it does in many places I've been. It actually means demonstrations of all the major political, and other groups. In Istanbul, there is only one area where such demonstrations are allowed - Kadikoy. Incidentally, the school I am working in is in Kadikoy. How convenient! There was a little nervousness among the teachers about the fact that the school would be open today and that we would be expected to come, in the middle of the demonstrations. However, the students assured us that they would be here, and yesterday my students promised me that there wouldn't be a problem. Just in case, though, I stayed at Nesim's house last night, and came up from the ferry instead of down from my flat. I figured if the place felt at all iffy when I got off the ferry, I could turn around and go back across.
So I disembarked, and as the ferry was pulling in, the cheers and singing and speeches over the loudspeakers greeted us. Of course all the streets are closed. They were anticipating 100 000 demonstrators, but I won't be surprised if that number turns out to be a huge underestimate. They were walking peacefully with their banners and stuff. There were spaces between the groups, and it was vaguely reminiscent of the 24th of May parade in Bermuda, gombeys and
majorettes and a mack truck of speakers wouldn't have been out of place.
So, since the crowd was peaceful and the general air was not horde-like or rowdy, and I felt quite confortable, I crossed the street and headed up to the school. part way up (it's only a 5 minute walk) there was a gang (team? pack? oh wait I remember the collective noun...
Posse!) of riot police on the left.

They had the body armour, shields, machine guns, and whatever else one needs to quell an angry mob. They were just chilling there, though, while the Turkish Communist Party
had its rally across the street. It was kinda surreal actually. On the left the riot police, numbering about 150 or 200, with a couple of busloads more parked nearby, 3 tanks with the metal guards in the front and instead of a gun some kind of hose, ready to spray water or
tear gas (or whatever one sprays in these situations) parked on the road to the right, 2 rows of metal barricades forming a street in the street, for easy access to trouble spots if the need arises.... But it was all peaceful. The crowd was pretty calm, some of the police were
drinking tea....
So I got to school, thinking, hmmm, if I could take a picture, that would be cool.
So I recruited Alex, after asking some of the local staff if they thought it would be alright. I decided that I would ask someone first before whipping out my camera. And we headed off.

As you can see, our quest was successful. They were quite happy to have their pictures taken, and one of the policemen gave me his email address so that he can have copies of the pictures. He's the one on the left below, in the pic on the left. The one in the picture on the right asked me for my number, however, I didn't have my cellphone with me and I couldn't remember it.

They were all very nice and friendly and thought it was great that we wanted pics. As we
were taking them, one of the TKP (Turkish Communist Party) supporters walked by and suggested that we would both want to be in the picture, and so took one for us... he was a bit shaky though, so the pic is blurred. Nervous maybe?
Anyway, as you know, the news tends to overreact to things so if you happen to hear anything about demonstrations in Istanbul, no need to worry about me! :o)
More later....