<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6638159</id><updated>2011-09-29T08:35:20.496+03:00</updated><category term='&quot;stupid mistake&quot;'/><title type='text'>Inside my head</title><subtitle type='html'>An idea of the things that go on in my head from day to day - enter at your own risk...</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6638159/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6638159/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>Krisia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03746222871170523486</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://static.flickr.com/76/192953712_c8af85065a_o.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>151</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6638159.post-5059510496395135790</id><published>2010-08-12T17:45:00.001+03:00</published><updated>2010-08-12T17:45:16.613+03:00</updated><title type='text'>Changes</title><content type='html'>A lot has happened since I last blogged. &lt;br&gt; I met and married the man of my dreams.&lt;br&gt; We left Turkey.&lt;br&gt; We visited my family and friends in Bermuda.&lt;br&gt; I moved to Denmark with Simon.&lt;br&gt; I&amp;#39;m learning Danish.&lt;br&gt; I am studying Permaculture.&lt;br&gt; I have been given a job as a cook at a vegetarian cafe.&lt;br&gt; &lt;br&gt; Life is good.&lt;br&gt; &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6638159-5059510496395135790?l=insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com/feeds/5059510496395135790/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6638159&amp;postID=5059510496395135790&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6638159/posts/default/5059510496395135790'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6638159/posts/default/5059510496395135790'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com/2010/08/changes.html' title='Changes'/><author><name>Krisia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03746222871170523486</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://static.flickr.com/76/192953712_c8af85065a_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6638159.post-8929736217166052731</id><published>2009-05-19T07:34:00.001+03:00</published><updated>2009-05-19T07:34:30.067+03:00</updated><title type='text'>Ahmet is ok.</title><content type='html'>He was released from the hospital the next morning in good condition. Thank you for your prayers and kind words. :o)&lt;br&gt; &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6638159-8929736217166052731?l=insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com/feeds/8929736217166052731/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6638159&amp;postID=8929736217166052731&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6638159/posts/default/8929736217166052731'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6638159/posts/default/8929736217166052731'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com/2009/05/ahmet-is-ok.html' title='Ahmet is ok.'/><author><name>Krisia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03746222871170523486</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://static.flickr.com/76/192953712_c8af85065a_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6638159.post-972582222154977151</id><published>2009-05-19T07:33:00.001+03:00</published><updated>2009-05-19T07:33:21.637+03:00</updated><title type='text'>Ahmet...</title><content type='html'>This afternoon instead of Trikking directly home from work, I decided to take a leisurely ride along the seaside bike path and enjoy the beautiful summery weather. About 10 minutes along the path, there was a commotion at the water&amp;#39;s edge and a crowd beginning to gather. I usually ignore this stuff, as there are almost always too many rubberneckers doing nothing but staring, but since people were running across the bike path, I had to slow down, so I took a look and that&amp;#39;s when I heard someone shout in Turkish, above the commotion &amp;quot;DOES ANYONE KNOW FIRST AID?!!!&amp;quot; I left my Trikke on the path, and ran down to the water&amp;#39;s edge where they had just pulled a teenage boy out of the water and were standing around looking at him, while a woman was crouched next to him shaking him. &lt;br&gt; &lt;br&gt; I pushed through the crowd and knelt next to him. She had turned him on his side, I rolled him onto his back and saw that his mouth and nose were full of foam, but it wasn&amp;#39;t moving. I checked for his pulse and there was nothing but cold, wet, still skin. Now typing it, I can remember every detail. At the time (an hour and a half ago), all I thought was Airway, Breathing, Circulation. I cleared the foam away with my fingers, tilted his head back, pinched his nose, opened his mouth, and breathed in two breaths, looking sideways to see his chest rise and fall, but hearing the awful gurgling of water in his lungs. I then started CPR compressions.&lt;br&gt; &lt;br&gt; A few months ago, listening to a radio podcast that I download every day, they reported on a medical study that found that one of the best songs to remember while giving CPR is &amp;quot;Staying Alive&amp;quot; by the BeeGees. So as a gathering crowd of curious onlookers, wailing mothers, sobbing teenagers, and useless police, none of whom know CPR stood watching, I hummed the tune to Staying Alive in my head, counted chest compressions, and breathed into this young boy&amp;#39;s mouth, pausing to check his pulse every now and then. &lt;br&gt; &lt;br&gt; His lips were cold. His chest was cold. His eyes were half open and unresponsive. &lt;br&gt; &lt;br&gt; Still to the beat of &amp;quot;Staying Alive&amp;quot; I asked for his name. The answer came back &amp;quot;Ahmet&amp;quot;. I breathed two more breaths and went back to &amp;quot;Staying Alive&amp;quot;.&lt;br&gt; &lt;br&gt; A man came and asked if I was tired and could he help. Relieved, I asked if he knew CPR, one of us could breathe, one of us could compress. His answer, No.&lt;br&gt; &lt;br&gt; ...Ah, Ah, Ah, Ah, Staying alive, Staying alive....&lt;br&gt; &lt;br&gt; The screams of some crazy woman continued, the police moved the crowd back. One of his friends cried &amp;quot;ölmüş! ölmüş!&amp;quot; - He&amp;#39;s dead! He&amp;#39;s dead!&lt;br&gt; &lt;br&gt; The BeeGees continued in my head, background music for my silent prayer... Ya&amp;#39;Baha&amp;#39;u&amp;#39;l-Abha! A Baha&amp;#39;i prayer in Arabic.&lt;br&gt; &lt;br&gt; This continued for somewhere about 8 to 10 minutes. I asked the man who had offered his help to keep an eye on the time so that we could tell the paramedics.... where was the ambulance anyway? And WHY DIDN&amp;#39;T THE POLICE KNOW CPR???????????&lt;br&gt; &lt;br&gt; I felt his neck for a pulse. My other hand on his chest ready to start compressions again. I felt it in his chest a second before my other hand registered it on his neck. A beat!&lt;br&gt; &lt;br&gt; ...staying alive, staying alive....&lt;br&gt; &lt;br&gt; &lt;br&gt; Still no breathing. I continued breathing for him. Constantly checking his pulse, feeling short of hands, but surrounded by what was now something between 100 and 200 dumbfounded, useless onlookers. There was a woman next to me. I asked her if she could feel his pulse in his wrist. She could. I put her on the job as I kept up mouth to mouth resuscitation. His lips were warmer. &lt;br&gt; &lt;br&gt; In the movies, they cough as they come to. Ahmet sighed. I watched him take a breath on his own. Then another. And turned him on his side.&lt;br&gt; &lt;br&gt; For the next few agonising minutes, I begged for the boys on the beach to bring their clothes to cover him with. Maybe a jacket from one of the motorcycle cops standing around uselessly? Nope. No jacket. It&amp;#39;s forbidden to take it off. I was SO angry.&lt;br&gt; &lt;br&gt; Ahmet breathed, gurgling up water. He started moaning. His heart kept beating. &amp;quot;Staying Alive&amp;quot; had switched off, but Ya&amp;#39;Baha&amp;#39;u&amp;#39;l-Abha still repeated in my head, as we watched his ears turn from blue to purple to white then pink. He breathed and gurgled. His heart was beating.....&lt;br&gt; &lt;br&gt; The paramedics came a few minutes later. They had an aspirator, which they put down his throat, and started sucking salt water out with. It wasn&amp;#39;t the lungful that I was envisioning in my head. I stepped away from Ahmet, and talked to his friends. Where is his phone? Can you call his parents? I asked the police which hospital they were taking him to. The paramedics continued aspirating, and checked his pupils for a response. He moaned again. &lt;br&gt; &lt;br&gt; Ahmet is at the hospital now. The police have my number and promise to call me and let me know how he is doing. I am afraid that his friends, who thought he was joking, and estimated that he had been underwater for two minutes, misjudged the time, and maybe he was down for longer. I don&amp;#39;t know if his brain will be able to recover from the oxygen deprivation. I don&amp;#39;t know if his lungs can recover from the salt water that was in them. I don&amp;#39;t know anything. &lt;br&gt; &lt;br&gt; I do know, however, that of the huge throng of people who stood there helplessly, I was the only one who knew CPR. And this makes me VERY ANGRY. I&amp;#39;m not going to &amp;quot;what if&amp;quot;. I was there in the right place at the right time, and that&amp;#39;s that. &lt;br&gt; &lt;br&gt; Please, my friends, family, acquaintances...... please please learn cpr. You will probably never need it. I haven&amp;#39;t needed it for the 20 or so years since I first learned it. But when you need it, you REALLY need it.&lt;br&gt; &lt;br&gt; I stood there after the ambulance had left, and got very angry at the crowd, who was there begging to find out what had happened. They acted as though what I had done was magic, and I was some kind of black witch doctor from a foreign country. I told them that the Kizilay (in the muslim world, the red cross is the red crescent, as it&amp;#39;s the red star of david in israel) teaches cpr. I urged them to go and learn. I told them that that could have been their brother, their mother, their daughter or son, their best friend.... and all they could do was stand there and watch him die. &lt;br&gt; &lt;br&gt; I am still angry now. The police didn&amp;#39;t know CPR!&lt;br&gt; &lt;br&gt; Please. Go and sign up for a course, take your friends and family, do it together.&lt;br&gt; &lt;br&gt; And please pray for Ahmet.&lt;br&gt; &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6638159-972582222154977151?l=insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com/feeds/972582222154977151/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6638159&amp;postID=972582222154977151&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6638159/posts/default/972582222154977151'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6638159/posts/default/972582222154977151'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com/2009/05/ahmet.html' title='Ahmet...'/><author><name>Krisia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03746222871170523486</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://static.flickr.com/76/192953712_c8af85065a_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6638159.post-4364373182660949045</id><published>2008-05-15T19:57:00.002+03:00</published><updated>2008-05-15T20:08:58.262+03:00</updated><title type='text'>Lots to Say, No Inclination to Blog it...</title><content type='html'>I honestly forget about this blog sometimes, for weeks and in this case months on end. That, coupled with the frequent disinclination to blog, menas that my last post was in October introducing a new blog, and not only have I not blogged here, but I haven't blogged there since the first week either. I'm busy, what can I say?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Instead of trying to summarize the last 7 months, i'm just going to talk about what is making me really excited now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After years of playing around with ideas, hoping, wishing, dreaming, I've finally decided and am taking the first big steps toward starting my own business. I have always wanted to be my own boss. Anyone who knows me knows that that's my personality. A few years ago the plan was to open a cafe, but since I've been in Istanbul teaching, there has come to mind a completely different plan. I want to start an English Training programme. I'm not really inclined to call it a course. It will involve highly commnicative techniques for improving students' fluency and accuracy in speaking English as a second language. I'm developing my own programme and materials, and I'm really excited about it. I don't want to put too much info about it here until I have a website and a contact number and brochures and business cards. But I'm excited.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The most surprising thing to me has been the rections of my friends and acquaintances. I am really nervous about this, as it's a big step, and it's a dream I've had for years, and probably the biggest thing I've done in my whole life. And as I tell people around me about it, I notice there are only two reactions. The first is always a surprise, it's the people who are absolutely thrilled about it and are immediately curious and very supportive and encouraging. I didn't really expect this. I mean, I know it's a big step for me but I don't expect others to think it's such a big step. And I'm really heartened by the waves of support and encouragement coming from all directions. The second reaction, is always even more surprising.... it's the people who have a very strong negative reaction. I don't know where it comes from. Friends have told me it stems from jealousy, but whatever it is, it's these people who, without even knowing any of the details say things like "oh how are you going to make that successful?" or "you can't do that in turkey and make money" and I guess if I even believed them a little bit, it could be discouraging, but I have full confidence in my ability and in the ingenuity of my plan and the method I plan to use, the originality and the fact that there are no competitors, also make it a sure thing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm excited! I need your prayers and good thoughts....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6638159-4364373182660949045?l=insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com/feeds/4364373182660949045/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6638159&amp;postID=4364373182660949045&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6638159/posts/default/4364373182660949045'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6638159/posts/default/4364373182660949045'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com/2008/05/lots-to-say-no-inclination-to-blog-it.html' title='Lots to Say, No Inclination to Blog it...'/><author><name>Krisia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03746222871170523486</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://static.flickr.com/76/192953712_c8af85065a_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6638159.post-1550507655551947221</id><published>2007-10-10T16:04:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2007-10-10T16:05:52.444+03:00</updated><title type='text'>New Blog</title><content type='html'>I'm going to blog here this weekend about my trip. Pictures and details. I promise!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here is a new blog that I'm starting with a decision I've made.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Find it &lt;a href="http://fromkrisiashead.blogspot.com/"&gt;here&lt;/a&gt;: http://fromkrisiashead.blogspot.com/&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6638159-1550507655551947221?l=insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com/feeds/1550507655551947221/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6638159&amp;postID=1550507655551947221&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6638159/posts/default/1550507655551947221'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6638159/posts/default/1550507655551947221'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com/2007/10/new-blog.html' title='New Blog'/><author><name>Krisia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03746222871170523486</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://static.flickr.com/76/192953712_c8af85065a_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6638159.post-2621105836239736236</id><published>2007-08-17T09:23:00.001+03:00</published><updated>2007-08-17T09:23:30.935+03:00</updated><title type='text'>On Facebook</title><content type='html'>Hi5, Orkut, Friendster... remember sixdegrees? There are a jillion websites out there designed to get you reconnected with all your old friends. I tried them all and only found that I became a member and never used them. All I ended up with was extra mail in my inbox and the occasional picture. About a year go Neisan told me to get on Facebook. I was like, no thanks. If it&amp;#39;s like Friendster and Orkut and those others, I&amp;#39;m not going to bother.  &lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;Now I&amp;#39;m hooked. I log in every day. I put pics and videos there. I look at all my friends and see what their statuses are and their pictures and their pictures of each other and of me. I look at my friends&amp;#39; friends&amp;#39; and see if there&amp;#39;s anyone I don&amp;#39;t know. I play games like Wiki Races. I join and create groups, serious and stupid.... Dude! I love it.  &lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;Small print.... NOT recommended for people who don&amp;#39;t have any spare time!&lt;br&gt; &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6638159-2621105836239736236?l=insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com/feeds/2621105836239736236/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6638159&amp;postID=2621105836239736236&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6638159/posts/default/2621105836239736236'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6638159/posts/default/2621105836239736236'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com/2007/08/on-facebook.html' title='On Facebook'/><author><name>Krisia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03746222871170523486</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://static.flickr.com/76/192953712_c8af85065a_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6638159.post-4531287295216718530</id><published>2007-06-12T15:44:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2007-06-12T15:55:32.780+03:00</updated><title type='text'>For the doubters...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_9iN8TzlVQCE/Rm6V2dXX_TI/AAAAAAAAAAM/eia2r1L10LU/s1600-h/100_0296.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_9iN8TzlVQCE/Rm6V2dXX_TI/AAAAAAAAAAM/eia2r1L10LU/s320/100_0296.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5075158592921271602" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;    Me in my Fenerbahce gear at the stadium.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6638159-4531287295216718530?l=insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com/feeds/4531287295216718530/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6638159&amp;postID=4531287295216718530&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6638159/posts/default/4531287295216718530'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6638159/posts/default/4531287295216718530'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com/2007/06/for-doubters.html' title='For the doubters...'/><author><name>Krisia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03746222871170523486</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://static.flickr.com/76/192953712_c8af85065a_o.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_9iN8TzlVQCE/Rm6V2dXX_TI/AAAAAAAAAAM/eia2r1L10LU/s72-c/100_0296.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6638159.post-6508272324365974251</id><published>2007-04-17T18:58:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2007-04-18T18:57:59.031+03:00</updated><title type='text'>An Afternoon in Sultanahmet</title><content type='html'>Sometimes I forget where I'm living. It's easy to go to work every day, come home, chat online, check e-mail, watch movies, do puzzles, plan another days' work and keep repeating it throwing in an occasional something else here and there. I sometimes forget that I fell in love with Istanbul not just because of the fact that I already speak the language! I love my flat. I love the area that I live in. But sometimes I forget that I also love the Grand Bazaar and Sultanahmet and all those things that tourists come all this way to see. It's sad that they don't get to see the day to day Istanbul that I love, but what they do see is great.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday Stephanie and I were both off, and since she had never been to the Grand Bazaar, we decided to go. We set off in the ferry from Kadiköy near our home on the Asian side of Istanbul and crossed to Eminönü, on the European side of Istanbul. We then crossed the Bosphorus... &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/krisia/462752121/" title="Photo Sharing"&gt;&lt;img src="http://farm1.static.flickr.com/167/462752121_3fe579b4ec_m.jpg" alt="The Bosphorus" height="160" width="240" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/krisia/462748198/" title="Photo Sharing"&gt;&lt;img src="http://farm1.static.flickr.com/176/462748198_ba661d63cc_m.jpg" alt="The Bosphorus" height="160" width="240" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/krisia/462753799/" title="Photo Sharing"&gt;&lt;img src="http://farm1.static.flickr.com/185/462753799_5b7b7e66c5_m.jpg" alt="Taksim and Levent" height="160" width="240" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Europe is on the left, Asia is on the right....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After the crossing (which takes about 20 minutes) we got on the tram and headed for the Grand Bazaar. It is a pretty bizarre place, all sorts of stuff for sale, side by side, so the vendors have to find different ways of getting your attention. All in all a fun time though. Here's a couple of pics of that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/krisia/462754669/" title="Photo Sharing"&gt;&lt;img src="http://farm1.static.flickr.com/169/462754669_bd3ef5d4f1_m.jpg" alt="Stephanie in the Grand Bazaar" height="240" width="160" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/krisia/462755835/" title="Photo Sharing"&gt;&lt;img src="http://farm1.static.flickr.com/195/462755835_25cddeb9c1_m.jpg" alt="The Grand Bazaar" height="160" width="240" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We then headed down through the back roads to the spice bazaar, which I like even better than the grand bazaar, but for some reason, I didn't take any pictures.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After the Spice Bazaar, in the big area next to the mosque that it's underneath, we took this picture&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/krisia/462752290/" title="Photo Sharing"&gt;&lt;img src="http://farm1.static.flickr.com/218/462752290_ac3d3b7580_m.jpg" alt="Courtyard" height="160" width="240" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and then we headed across the Galata Bridge to find a cafe. The Galata Bridge spans the Golden Horn and is a floating bridge. On the upper level cars and buses and trams pass from Eminonu to Karakoy. On the lower level, on both sides, restauranteurs and cafe-owners compete for trade. On the top of the bridge Turkish men find their escape in fishing. As a Bermudian amateur fisherwoman, I really don't understand how these men spend hours and hours with rod and reel to catch sardines about 10 cm long. But they do it and it's part of the culture. There's a public holiday on Monday so the city is festooned with flags.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/krisia/462758273/" title="Photo Sharing"&gt;&lt;img src="http://farm1.static.flickr.com/191/462758273_ae3dd56b00_m.jpg" alt="This is Türkiye!!!" height="160" width="240" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/krisia/462754512/" title="Photo Sharing"&gt;&lt;img src="http://farm1.static.flickr.com/224/462754512_121cdbb2fa_m.jpg" alt="The Golden Horn" height="160" width="240" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There's also a fountain in the middle of the water! I like that.&lt;br /&gt;We went to the cafe and ordered a strawberry nargile. Nargile, for those that don't know, is an Arab water pipe. To dispel any ideas that there are strange goings on in the nargile, it's flavoured tobacco treated in molasses, and then filtered through water. It's a very Turkish (and I guess Middle Eastern) thing. The flavours range from fruity, the most popular being apple, but also strawberry, melon, banana, blackberry, lemon,  and others, to more aromatic like mint, rose, and jasmine to  the more trendy caramel, cappuccino, and vanilla, and everything in between. Sitting in a cafe with nargile, tea and backgammon... couldn't be any more Turkish.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/krisia/462760303/" title="Photo Sharing"&gt;&lt;img src="http://farm1.static.flickr.com/254/462760303_5781987585_m.jpg" alt="Waiting for the sun to set" height="160" width="240" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/krisia/462756626/" title="Photo Sharing"&gt;&lt;img src="http://farm1.static.flickr.com/227/462756626_ad44e8ce25_m.jpg" alt="Stephanie and the nargile" height="160" width="240" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After talking and laughing for a couple of hours, we watched the sun set. It was gorgeous and I took a million pictures, but you know pictures.... you can't capture the sunset. Here's my small attempt anyway&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/krisia/462757656/" title="Photo Sharing"&gt;&lt;img src="http://farm1.static.flickr.com/223/462757656_464fac265e_m.jpg" alt="Sunset from Galata Bridge" height="160" width="240" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/krisia/462767150/" title="Photo Sharing"&gt;&lt;img src="http://farm1.static.flickr.com/225/462767150_c3c5c72a25_m.jpg" alt="Sunset" height="240" width="160" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/krisia/462772271/" title="Photo Sharing"&gt;&lt;img src="http://farm1.static.flickr.com/204/462772271_7a99554319_m.jpg" alt="Sunset" height="160" width="240" /&gt; &lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/krisia/462768986/" title="Photo Sharing"&gt;&lt;img src="http://farm1.static.flickr.com/244/462768986_199cee7851_m.jpg" alt="The Golden Horn" height="160" width="240" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At almost 8 we decided to head back to Kadikoy. We had done the day, and were happy with it. I couldn't resist a last sunset picture though.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/krisia/462769616/" title="Photo Sharing"&gt;&lt;img src="http://farm1.static.flickr.com/235/462769616_9f7df73d28_m.jpg" alt="Sunset" height="160" width="240" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's a couple of pictures of the restaurants and cafes under the Galata Bridge that I took on Saturday night....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/krisia/462751051/" title="Photo Sharing"&gt;&lt;img src="http://farm1.static.flickr.com/226/462751051_83a33239cb_m.jpg" alt="Galata Bridge at Night" height="160" width="240" /&gt; &lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/krisia/462744954/" title="Photo Sharing"&gt;&lt;img src="http://farm1.static.flickr.com/221/462744954_4800da1644_m.jpg" alt="Galata Bridge at Night" height="160" width="240" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Back in Kadikoy, to end, here's the Haldun Taner Theatre. A famous landmark....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/krisia/462561830/" title="Photo Sharing"&gt;&lt;img src="http://farm1.static.flickr.com/234/462561830_be5fea3771.jpg" alt="Haldun Taner Tiyatro" height="333" width="500" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6638159-6508272324365974251?l=insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com/feeds/6508272324365974251/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6638159&amp;postID=6508272324365974251&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6638159/posts/default/6508272324365974251'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6638159/posts/default/6508272324365974251'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com/2007/04/afternoon-in-sultanahmet.html' title='An Afternoon in Sultanahmet'/><author><name>Krisia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03746222871170523486</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://static.flickr.com/76/192953712_c8af85065a_o.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://farm1.static.flickr.com/167/462752121_3fe579b4ec_t.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6638159.post-8416212427888298081</id><published>2007-04-17T18:30:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2007-04-17T18:43:42.447+03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='&quot;stupid mistake&quot;'/><title type='text'>Stupid Mistake</title><content type='html'>Back in July I was getting "comments" from people that were just trying to link to their site and sell things. So I changed my blog to moderate comments. Unfortunately when I did this, I neglected to put in my e-mail address. Since I generally post to blogs from e-mail, I had no idea I had 26 comments sitting here waiting for moderation... I thought everyone (including my mom) had just lost interest! hehehehe. Anyway, the problem has been rectified, your comments are here, thank you all, the stupid ones have all been deleted, I think, and I'm back to blogland. Yayyy!!!&lt;br /&gt;Now I'm going to try and coordinate blogger with flickr to get you a blogged album of thumbnails of the pics that i just posted on flickr. Of course, if you have no faith in my ability to do this or can't be bothered waiting for it, here's the flickr link &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/krisia/"&gt;http://www.flickr.com/photos/krisia/&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6638159-8416212427888298081?l=insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com/feeds/8416212427888298081/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6638159&amp;postID=8416212427888298081&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6638159/posts/default/8416212427888298081'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6638159/posts/default/8416212427888298081'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com/2007/04/stupid-mistake.html' title='Stupid Mistake'/><author><name>Krisia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03746222871170523486</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://static.flickr.com/76/192953712_c8af85065a_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6638159.post-117562938037101172</id><published>2007-04-03T22:43:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2007-04-10T09:16:49.186+03:00</updated><title type='text'>New Computer</title><content type='html'>I just got a new computer, and an internet connection at home! I&amp;#39;m in cyberspace!!! Pretty cool I think. This means that I&amp;#39;ll probably be blogging more often and will be able to upload pictures and stuff more regularly. I say probably because you know, sometimes I just don&amp;#39;t feel like it. But theoretically it should be good. I also have skype set up at home so skype me! &lt;br&gt; &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6638159-117562938037101172?l=insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com/feeds/117562938037101172/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6638159&amp;postID=117562938037101172&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6638159/posts/default/117562938037101172'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6638159/posts/default/117562938037101172'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com/2007/04/new-computer.html' title='New Computer'/><author><name>Krisia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03746222871170523486</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://static.flickr.com/76/192953712_c8af85065a_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6638159.post-116605374083247798</id><published>2006-12-14T01:49:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-12-14T01:49:00.930+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Long time no blog</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;Last blog was from Plovdiv, where I spent a wonderful day, met some new people, met up with friends from Istanbul, and made friends on the bus ride home. In a nutshell, Plovdiv is a beautiful little town and I'm definitely going back there for another visit. &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Speaking of visits, my next trip is going t obe to Barbados to visit the parents. I am planning to leave here on or about January 19 or so. Unfortunately though, my wallet was stolen last week so I have to figure out some solution to the problem of being without a drivers' licence. We'll see what happens. Hopefully, some morally upright Turk will find it and turn it in to the police..... Inshallah! &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;As far as my life lately, I still go to salsa classes on a weekly basis. My partner is Cameron, another teacher. He's an Australian yoga teacher whose job before coming here was teaching English to some monks in Tibet or India or something.... He's definitely a character, and he's fun to dance with.  &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;The cats are doing well although with winter coming, Baris's lungs are sounding wheezy again. Apparently his lungs are too small for his body. Not surprising since his body is huge! Savas takes good care of him though.  &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;I have another friend here Cengiz, who I met at a Language Exchange website. I get to practice my Turkish and he his English so it's a good deal for both of us. We've been getting together about once or twice a week to chat. &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;All in all life is very much the same. I still have a private lesson with a Baha'i in our community once a week. In fact, we have a class now. &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Anyone reading this, drop me a note to let me know what's going on. I'm tired of opening my inbox and finding it full of only junk mail. My email address is my first name at gmail dot com.....&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;See ya!&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6638159-116605374083247798?l=insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com/feeds/116605374083247798/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6638159&amp;postID=116605374083247798&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6638159/posts/default/116605374083247798'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6638159/posts/default/116605374083247798'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com/2006/12/long-time-no-blog.html' title='Long time no blog'/><author><name>Krisia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03746222871170523486</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://static.flickr.com/76/192953712_c8af85065a_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6638159.post-116184055401283421</id><published>2006-10-26T08:29:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2006-11-15T14:05:53.030+02:00</updated><title type='text'>In Plovdiv</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;Random trips.... Get on a bus. Go to a place. Explore. Go home. That's what I like. I arrived in Plovdiv, Bulgaria at 4 this morning. Lucky for me, the taxi driver I got knew of a 24-hour Internet cafe. I'm still here, although I'm not sure how I will pay, I have Euros and not the local currency, which, since I don't know what it is, I will call &amp;quot;bullies&amp;quot;. The Bulgarian alphabet is the cyrillic script, like Russian, so I have no idea what it says when I see prices written. When Scott, another teacher, first came to Turkey, he didn't know the currency's name. It was written YTL (for Yeni Turk Lirasi - New TUrkish Lira) so he called them &amp;quot;yertles&amp;quot;, and still does. So it is with the BUlgarian bullies for me. My taxi here cost 3 bullies. The Internet cafe will probably come to about 5 bullies. Hopefully, if I give him 5 euros, I will get bullies for change. The exchange rate is about 2 bullies to 1 euro...  &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Plovdiv. Everything about it sounds dowdy and Russian. It looks like how I imagined Russia to look back in the days of the cold war when the word &amp;quot;Russia&amp;quot; was a bad word. Looking outside, it is kinda like looking at a  t.v. show from like 20 years ago. There's colour, but it's not very vivid. It feels like whole chunks of the spectrum are missing, and got taken over by shades of grey and brown. It's weird because in such a setting I would expect to find kinda greyish people walking around hunched over and standing in line for food or coal... Instead all I've seen so far are the teenage boys up all night gaming on the internet, and they are just as vivid as teenagers anywhere.  &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;I'm going to go out now and take pictures of Plovdiv. See what it looks like as it wakes up. Then I'm having lunch with Georgina and Rachael. We may even meet up with Sean and Kelly as well... We'll see. &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Off to Plovdiv!&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6638159-116184055401283421?l=insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com/feeds/116184055401283421/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6638159&amp;postID=116184055401283421&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6638159/posts/default/116184055401283421'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6638159/posts/default/116184055401283421'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com/2006/10/in-plovdiv.html' title='In Plovdiv'/><author><name>Krisia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03746222871170523486</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://static.flickr.com/76/192953712_c8af85065a_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6638159.post-115835065448695272</id><published>2006-09-15T22:58:00.002+03:00</published><updated>2006-10-18T01:54:22.286+03:00</updated><title type='text'>I got the music back...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN-BOTTOM: 10px; MARGIN-LEFT: 10px"&gt;&lt;a title="photo sharing" href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/krisia/244065315/"&gt;&lt;img style="BORDER-RIGHT: #000000 2px solid; BORDER-TOP: #000000 2px solid; BORDER-LEFT: #000000 2px solid; BORDER-BOTTOM: #000000 2px solid" alt="" src="http://static.flickr.com/80/244065315_34940ca5cf_m.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/krisia/244065411/" title="Photo Sharing"&gt;&lt;img src="http://static.flickr.com/80/244065411_e11b27cc85_m.jpg" width="180" height="240" alt="I got the music back..." /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/krisia/244065371/" title="Photo Sharing"&gt;&lt;img src="http://static.flickr.com/79/244065371_6178bb6dd7_m.jpg" width="240" height="180" alt="I got the music back..." /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="MARGIN-TOP: 0px;font-size:0;" &gt;&lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/krisia/244065315/"&gt;I got the music back...&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Originally uploaded by &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/people/krisia/"&gt;Krisia&lt;/a&gt;. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p&gt;I've been in Turkey for a year and a half now and there's been something missing the whole time. I've made several attempts to find and connect with musicians, because the thing I really missed was sitting down with friends and making music together. None of these attempts had really panned out into anything. Last week in conversation class I met a guitarist, Levent. His brother Freddie plays the ney, a Turkish bamboo flute. He arrived in Istanbul last Sunday. We have been playing almost daily since then. I can't believe how much I have missed this. My fingers are calloused, my throat is sore, but I'm extremely happy! :o)&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6638159-115835065448695272?l=insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com/feeds/115835065448695272/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6638159&amp;postID=115835065448695272&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6638159/posts/default/115835065448695272'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6638159/posts/default/115835065448695272'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com/2006/09/i-got-music-back.html' title='I got the music back...'/><author><name>Krisia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03746222871170523486</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://static.flickr.com/76/192953712_c8af85065a_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6638159.post-115643572532088286</id><published>2006-08-24T19:08:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2006-08-24T21:57:03.253+03:00</updated><title type='text'>No News is....</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;...no news. The thing about blogging is that it's really easy to think of excuses not to when you're not in the mood to blog. My latest excuse is that the air conditioner in the teachers' room at work is not working, and hasn't been working all summer. Because I don't have internet at home, this means that my e-mail gets neglected. That includes my blog. &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;The last couple of weeks have been dominated by Ertu and I's &amp;quot;break-up&amp;quot; which is in quotation marks since we were never technically &amp;quot;together&amp;quot; but we were together enough for us to &amp;quot;break-up&amp;quot; and it's taken a while to get over it. We learned a lot from each other and love each other dearly, but sometimes that's not enough, and&amp;nbsp;life goes on. &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Istanbul is sweltering hot right now. We've been going through cycles of hot and extremely hot, with little respite. With the aforementioned airconditioner in the teachers' room out of service, this means that I spend less time planning classes, and more time at the gym, where it's nice and cool. I can't wait till september. &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;My flatmate is going away on Sunday. She's visiting her family for the month of September. I will have the flat to myself. The cats will probably be neurotic at first (apparently Savas missed me a lot when I was gone, and that made Baris act crazy). Rebecca is Baris's favourite so I'll probably be stuck with&amp;nbsp; 7 kilos (that's 15 lbs) of neurotic cat, and Savas (another 6 kilos) will be crazy from Baris's weird mood. Other than that, it'll be nice to have the place to myself for a change. Won't have to close the balcony door every hour when she goes to smoke.... If nothing else it'll be cooler. :o) &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6638159-115643572532088286?l=insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com/feeds/115643572532088286/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6638159&amp;postID=115643572532088286&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6638159/posts/default/115643572532088286'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6638159/posts/default/115643572532088286'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com/2006/08/no-news-is.html' title='No News is....'/><author><name>Krisia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03746222871170523486</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://static.flickr.com/76/192953712_c8af85065a_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6638159.post-115424080455213730</id><published>2006-07-30T09:26:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2006-08-07T19:41:02.853+03:00</updated><title type='text'>On Doing Nothing...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;Well, I'm back home in Istanbul after a wonderful, meditative vacation in France and Spain. I got to see friends I hadn't seen in too long, visit places I've wanted to see for a long time, and, most importantly, relax. I stopped everything, and spent quite a few days doing absolutely nothing, and loving it. There's something about seeing a person doing nothing that really bothers people. I think we tolerate it for a few minutes, but when it moves into hours or days, we get worried and nervous. &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;My life is busy. I go to work in the morning, spend the afternoon with friends, or sightseeing, or just walking around, and of course, going to the gym. In the evening I work again. My days off aren't really days off because I have private students. OK so my work isn't a constant, 9-5 kinda thing, and I do have a lot of free time, but very rarely am I just doing nothing.  &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Before I left for this trip, my friend Erturul gave me a book on meditation to read. One of the things that it made me realise was that I wasn't giving myself time and space to think, and listen to myself. By filling my days up from waking to bedtime, I didn't have time to sit and just be.  &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;I let myself do that this holiday. And it was great. I learned so much about myself. It's funny how when I was at home and had nothing to do, before, I would be bored, and go and do something. Now I actually make time for not having anything to do and spend it meditating. It's so refreshing and has changed my outlook on life. The only problem is, when people see that you have nothing to do and are doing nothing, they get worried. It's a big obstacle to get over. Now when I see people doing nothing, I don't ask them if their bored, or try to fill up their time for them. I leave them be, and hope they enjoy it. &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6638159-115424080455213730?l=insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com/feeds/115424080455213730/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6638159&amp;postID=115424080455213730&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6638159/posts/default/115424080455213730'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6638159/posts/default/115424080455213730'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com/2006/07/on-doing-nothing.html' title='On Doing Nothing...'/><author><name>Krisia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03746222871170523486</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://static.flickr.com/76/192953712_c8af85065a_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6638159.post-115340442145627248</id><published>2006-07-20T17:02:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2006-07-21T21:34:26.216+03:00</updated><title type='text'>...and another</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="float: right; margin-left: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px;"&gt; &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/krisia/193976172/" title="photo sharing"&gt;&lt;img src="http://static.flickr.com/71/193976172_17e346d58f_m.jpg" alt="" style="border: solid 2px #000000;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="font-size: 0.9em; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;  &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/krisia/193976172/"&gt;...and another&lt;/a&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;  Originally uploaded by &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/people/krisia/"&gt;Krisia&lt;/a&gt;. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;I can't just do my parents' ... here's mine. Liss, yours is coming.&lt;br clear="all" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6638159-115340442145627248?l=insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com/feeds/115340442145627248/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6638159&amp;postID=115340442145627248&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6638159/posts/default/115340442145627248'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6638159/posts/default/115340442145627248'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com/2006/07/and-another.html' title='...and another'/><author><name>Krisia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03746222871170523486</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://static.flickr.com/76/192953712_c8af85065a_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6638159.post-115338991341789513</id><published>2006-07-20T13:00:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2006-07-21T11:46:43.370+03:00</updated><title type='text'>What's good for the goose...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="float: right; margin-left: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px;"&gt; &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/krisia/193878520/" title="photo sharing"&gt;&lt;img src="http://static.flickr.com/56/193878520_aa6e5e041e_m.jpg" alt="" style="border: solid 2px #000000;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="font-size: 0.9em; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;  &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/krisia/193878520/"&gt;What's good for the goose...&lt;/a&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;  Originally uploaded by &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/people/krisia/"&gt;Krisia&lt;/a&gt;. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;... :o)&lt;br clear="all" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6638159-115338991341789513?l=insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com/feeds/115338991341789513/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6638159&amp;postID=115338991341789513&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6638159/posts/default/115338991341789513'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6638159/posts/default/115338991341789513'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com/2006/07/whats-good-for-goose_20.html' title='What&apos;s good for the goose...'/><author><name>Krisia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03746222871170523486</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://static.flickr.com/76/192953712_c8af85065a_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6638159.post-115336685448390924</id><published>2006-07-20T06:36:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2006-11-15T00:14:06.016+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Forgive me mother...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN-BOTTOM: 10px; MARGIN-LEFT: 10px"&gt;&lt;a title="photo sharing" href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/krisia/193703203/"&gt;&lt;img style="BORDER-RIGHT: #000000 2px solid; BORDER-TOP: #000000 2px solid; BORDER-LEFT: #000000 2px solid; BORDER-BOTTOM: #000000 2px solid" alt="" src="http://static.flickr.com/65/193703203_47069652bd_m.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="MARGIN-TOP: 0px;font-size:0;" &gt;&lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/krisia/193703203/"&gt;Forgive me mother...&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Originally uploaded by &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/people/krisia/"&gt;Krisia&lt;/a&gt;. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;but I couldn't resist!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There's a great site where you can make your own &lt;a href="http://spstudio.linda.hosting-friends.de/sp-studio.swf"&gt;South Park characters&lt;/a&gt; &lt;http:&gt;and my mom is so animated, it was only a matter of time....&lt;br clear="all"&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6638159-115336685448390924?l=insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com/feeds/115336685448390924/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6638159&amp;postID=115336685448390924&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6638159/posts/default/115336685448390924'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6638159/posts/default/115336685448390924'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com/2006/07/forgive-me-mother.html' title='Forgive me mother...'/><author><name>Krisia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03746222871170523486</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://static.flickr.com/76/192953712_c8af85065a_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6638159.post-115332979987510727</id><published>2006-07-19T20:23:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2006-07-19T20:23:19.950+03:00</updated><title type='text'>Blogroll please...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;So here it is, the results of hours of work, now it should (crossed fingers) be easier to keep track of what's blogging. Here is&amp;nbsp;a comprehensive blogroll of my friends, acquaintances, and people that maybe I wish I could be friends with. If you're on this list and don't want to be, or not on this list and want to be, let me know!&amp;nbsp;(It's on the right, under the archives... you might have to scroll down a bit...) &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6638159-115332979987510727?l=insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com/feeds/115332979987510727/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6638159&amp;postID=115332979987510727&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6638159/posts/default/115332979987510727'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6638159/posts/default/115332979987510727'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com/2006/07/blogroll-please.html' title='Blogroll please...'/><author><name>Krisia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03746222871170523486</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://static.flickr.com/76/192953712_c8af85065a_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6638159.post-115330119357071939</id><published>2006-07-19T12:26:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2006-08-15T13:01:56.076+03:00</updated><title type='text'>Feed me!!! - (literarily)</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;No that's not a type-o. I need to be feed literarily, as in with words... I don't know if that's a real word, but I like how it feels in my mouth. &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;I spent the good part of a morning (albeit another scorching Zaragoza summer morning, in which staying inside in a cool dark house is preferable to anything else) blogsurfing. This involved clicking on the links of all the blogs that I have in my google favourites, and reading all the new entries one by one. Of course, as I visited blogs, I found links to blogs of other people I know, and added them to my links, and the cycle continued. Before I knew it, hours had passed, my links list became long enough to have to scroll through, and my head was full of news of relocations, marriages, new babies, travelling tales, new software (some of the people I know are quite computer-geeky), and various other bloggable bits of info. By lunch time (and in Spain that's somewhere close to 3  p.m.) my head was ready to explode, but I felt happy and caught up. There were so many people I met in Haifa during my service there that I wish I had had a chance to know better. Somehow, by reading their blogs, I feel like they have become a part of my life, or rather their lives have become a part of mine. It's not the same as getting to know them better, but it's better than not.  &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;So during this foray into blogland, I got to thinking how cool it would be if this whole process wasn't manual. Clicking links, reading new stuff, if any, reading old stuff and realising that I had already read it, finding comments etc... Very time consuming, and tedious, and if I weren't on vacation in Zaragoza, I probably wouldn't have the time, energy or inclination to bother. As with all my other ideas, I knew that if I though it could be automated, someone must have already done it. So I googled it, and found that with a simple free subscription to  &lt;a href="http://www.bloglines.com"&gt;bloglines&lt;/a&gt;, I could add everyone's blog with a single click for each, and then when I wanted, it would show me updates on the stuff I hadn't read yet. How cool! Now all the blogs are in one place, instead of clicking 20 jillion links and scrolling around the archives&amp;nbsp;to read new stuff, I can see what's been added since last time. I also added my  &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com"&gt;flickr&lt;/a&gt;&amp;nbsp;contacts and dude, my life just got really easy.&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;I know there are those of you out there saying &amp;quot;duh. I've been doing this for years&amp;quot;, but the fact of the matter is that everyone I've talked to in the last few minutes is in the same boat that I was 2 days ago. Too many blogs to read, not enough time. So I'm not the last remaining ignorant person. I also remember seeing stuff about XML and RSS and feeds etc, and having an inkling of what they were, but having no home internet access (that's another story), and having limited time on the crappy work computer to do my online stuff, I haven't been able to pursue it. Obviously I did think about it at some point because when I went to log on to bloglines, I was already registered, and my password was just what I would have expected it to be... I had never used it though. &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;So to all of you who are overwhelmed by the vast ocean of blogged info, online pics, and other stuff that you need to look at to keep in touch with your friends' and acquantances' lives, try it out. &lt;a href="http://www.bloglines.com"&gt; Bloglines&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6638159-115330119357071939?l=insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com/feeds/115330119357071939/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6638159&amp;postID=115330119357071939&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6638159/posts/default/115330119357071939'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6638159/posts/default/115330119357071939'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com/2006/07/feed-me-literarily.html' title='Feed me!!! - (literarily)'/><author><name>Krisia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03746222871170523486</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://static.flickr.com/76/192953712_c8af85065a_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6638159.post-115322198615264259</id><published>2006-07-18T14:22:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2006-07-18T14:26:30.000+03:00</updated><title type='text'>Shakira - Hips Dont Lie spoof</title><content type='html'>&lt;table xmlns="http://purl.org/atom/ns#" border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0"&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td colspan="2"&gt;&lt;embed id="VideoPlayback" src="http://video.google.com/googleplayer.swf?docId=8718728501056290731" style="width:300px; height:243px;" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"&gt; &lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr/&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td&gt;found this on google video... I thought it was disturbing, yet hilarious! Enjoy, especially all you Shakir fans!&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6638159-115322198615264259?l=insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com/feeds/115322198615264259/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6638159&amp;postID=115322198615264259&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6638159/posts/default/115322198615264259'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6638159/posts/default/115322198615264259'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com/2006/07/shakira-hips-dont-lie-spoof.html' title='Shakira - Hips Dont Lie spoof'/><author><name>Krisia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03746222871170523486</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://static.flickr.com/76/192953712_c8af85065a_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6638159.post-115280536843429191</id><published>2006-07-13T18:42:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2006-07-13T18:42:51.156+03:00</updated><title type='text'>Overland Journey</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;The flight from Barcelona to Paris was cheap. As dictated by the mysterious forces that determine the cost of travel on budget airlines, all the flights back to&amp;nbsp;Barcelona&amp;nbsp;on&amp;nbsp;or around the dates I wanted to return were prohibitively&amp;nbsp;expensive. So I decided to take a bus.  &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Like I've mentioned before, one of the things I like about living in a region where everything is on a huge, connected mass of land, is that overland travel is possible. For an island-born, island-reared person like me, this is a remarkable concept. For example, in Bermuda, if the flights somewhere are cheap, the world is open to you. If the flights are expensive, and you don't happen to own a boat that can make a transatlantic journey, you are stuck on the 22-square-mile rock that you live on.  &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;The idea of being able to (theoretically, of course!) walk from Istanbul to, say, Lisbon, or maybe from Oslo to Addis Ababa, if you so desired, completely boggles my mind. So the idea of catching a bus from Paris to Madrid really didn't bother me at all.  &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;It was a long bus ride. I left Paris at 2:30 in the afternoon, after a picnic lunch of Chinese take-out on the grass in a park near the Baha'i Centre with Violetta. Luckily, the bus only made 2 stops before its arrival at 7:00 the following morning in Madrid. The dinner stop was at a rest stop area next to a beautiful wooded area somewhere in France. I have absolutely no idea where, except that most of the view out the window for the 2 hours before it, were of fields, mostly of grasses or sunflowers. I walked around, stretched, did some deep breathing, ate my dinner, and then just sat in the grass where I was, listening to the birds and the breeze in the trees.  &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;I slept for most of the rest of the ride. Earplugs, an iPod, sleeping mask, book and a bottle of water were all i needed to ensure a great bus ride.&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;I arrived in Madrid at 7 and took the metro to the other bus station, where I had to buy a ticket to Zaragoza. That ride was 4 hours. The bus left at 9 a.m. and arrived on time at 1. Hector picked me up at the bus station, at about 1:10. Approximately 24 hours after I&amp;nbsp;had said goobye to Violetta and headed for the metro to go to the bus station in Paris. &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Now that I'm in Zaragoza, I have absolutely nothing to do. No demands on my time, a beautiful garden and lawn to sit in and think, or not think, whatever. A computer with internet access, a playstation, a guitar.... No complaints! &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6638159-115280536843429191?l=insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com/feeds/115280536843429191/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6638159&amp;postID=115280536843429191&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6638159/posts/default/115280536843429191'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6638159/posts/default/115280536843429191'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com/2006/07/overland-journey.html' title='Overland Journey'/><author><name>Krisia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03746222871170523486</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://static.flickr.com/76/192953712_c8af85065a_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6638159.post-115260263735337121</id><published>2006-07-11T10:11:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2006-08-15T03:41:34.983+03:00</updated><title type='text'>Paris Pics</title><content type='html'>I've just had a wonderful few days in Paris. My main aim in coming here was to hang out with Vi and see a few things in this city. I've done quite well on both fronts I think. Vi and I had a wonderful time! She showed me a new game as well, watch out Yahtzee, the Dice Game is here!!! Thanks so much for everything, Vi.&lt;br /&gt;I spent a little time wandering around on my own and got to see some of the sights. I loved the Eiffel Tower and the Louvre Pyramid, but my favourite places I don't have pics of. We sat on the grass in a park near the Latin Quarter, next to a fountain. I loved it there. I went to the parts of the city that are inhabited mostly by immigrants, and walking down the street seeing people from all different countries, shops with stuff from everywhere, cuisine of all different countries... it was so cool. I didn't realise how much I missed that diversity in Istanbul. I got used to everyone around me being Turkish! That first day, wandering around, buying shampoo in a store with Black beauty products, visiting a restaurant and getting the Turks to help me because my French was awful! Seeing the market, eating in an Algerian Restaurant.... that's the Paris I came here for. I had a wonderful trip. Click on the pics and take a look at my Flickr Album.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/krisia/187118085/" title="Photo Sharing"&gt;&lt;img src="http://static.flickr.com/66/187118085_113af2c0d2_t.jpg" width="75" height="100" alt="Eiffel Tower" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/krisia/187124320/" title="Photo Sharing"&gt;&lt;img src="http://static.flickr.com/59/187124320_84e4ccf994_t.jpg" width="100" height="75" alt="Me and Vi" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/krisia/187118088/" title="Photo Sharing"&gt;&lt;img src="http://static.flickr.com/69/187118088_44c21022e3_t.jpg" alt="Louvre Pyramid" height="75" width="100" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6638159-115260263735337121?l=insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com/feeds/115260263735337121/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6638159&amp;postID=115260263735337121&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6638159/posts/default/115260263735337121'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6638159/posts/default/115260263735337121'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com/2006/07/paris-pics.html' title='Paris Pics'/><author><name>Krisia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03746222871170523486</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://static.flickr.com/76/192953712_c8af85065a_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6638159.post-115260185109012732</id><published>2006-07-11T10:06:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2006-07-11T10:10:51.113+03:00</updated><title type='text'>Arc de Triomph, Paris</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="float: right; margin-left: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px;"&gt; &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/krisia/186822141/" title="photo sharing"&gt;&lt;img src="http://static.flickr.com/1/186822141_1674bd457f_m.jpg" alt="" style="border: solid 2px #000000;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="font-size: 0.9em; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;  &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/krisia/186822141/"&gt;Arc de Triomph, Paris&lt;/a&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;  Originally uploaded by &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/people/krisia/"&gt;Krisia&lt;/a&gt;. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;So I promised another Arc de Triomph, and here it is.&lt;br clear="all" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6638159-115260185109012732?l=insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com/feeds/115260185109012732/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6638159&amp;postID=115260185109012732&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6638159/posts/default/115260185109012732'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6638159/posts/default/115260185109012732'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com/2006/07/arc-de-triomph-paris.html' title='Arc de Triomph, Paris'/><author><name>Krisia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03746222871170523486</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://static.flickr.com/76/192953712_c8af85065a_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6638159.post-115228478887235840</id><published>2006-07-07T18:02:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2006-08-17T02:12:13.876+03:00</updated><title type='text'>Barcelona</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="float: right; margin-left: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px;"&gt; &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/krisia/184095951/" title="photo sharing"&gt;&lt;img src="http://static.flickr.com/53/184095951_533205f34b_m.jpg" alt="" style="border: solid 2px #000000;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="font-size: 0.9em; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;  &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/krisia/184095951/"&gt;Barcelona&lt;/a&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;  Originally uploaded by &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/people/krisia/"&gt;Krisia&lt;/a&gt;. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;There's an Arc de Triomph in Barcelona. It's near the bus station. I'll post&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;a pic of the one in Paris, when I get there....&lt;br clear="all" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6638159-115228478887235840?l=insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com/feeds/115228478887235840/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6638159&amp;postID=115228478887235840&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6638159/posts/default/115228478887235840'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6638159/posts/default/115228478887235840'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com/2006/07/barcelona.html' title='Barcelona'/><author><name>Krisia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03746222871170523486</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://static.flickr.com/76/192953712_c8af85065a_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6638159.post-115228436509172614</id><published>2006-07-07T17:55:00.005+03:00</published><updated>2006-08-10T22:54:19.613+03:00</updated><title type='text'>Leaving Istanbul</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="float: right; margin-left: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px;"&gt; &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/krisia/184091873/" title="photo sharing"&gt;&lt;img src="http://static.flickr.com/58/184091873_21d0cf2fc8_m.jpg" alt="" style="border: solid 2px #000000;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="font-size: 0.9em; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;  &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/krisia/184091873/"&gt;Leaving Istanbul&lt;/a&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;  Originally uploaded by &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/people/krisia/"&gt;Krisia&lt;/a&gt;. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Photos of Istanbul as I flew from Ataturk Airport Wednesday, July 5, 2006&lt;br clear="all" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6638159-115228436509172614?l=insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com/feeds/115228436509172614/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6638159&amp;postID=115228436509172614&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6638159/posts/default/115228436509172614'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6638159/posts/default/115228436509172614'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com/2006/07/leaving-istanbul_07.html' title='Leaving Istanbul'/><author><name>Krisia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03746222871170523486</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://static.flickr.com/76/192953712_c8af85065a_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6638159.post-115228438231395752</id><published>2006-07-07T17:55:00.004+03:00</published><updated>2006-07-07T17:59:42.323+03:00</updated><title type='text'>Leaving Istanbul</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="float: right; margin-left: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px;"&gt; &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/krisia/184092053/" title="photo sharing"&gt;&lt;img src="http://static.flickr.com/70/184092053_cfdf8ce1b7_m.jpg" alt="" style="border: solid 2px #000000;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="font-size: 0.9em; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;  &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/krisia/184092053/"&gt;Leaving Istanbul&lt;/a&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;  Originally uploaded by &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/people/krisia/"&gt;Krisia&lt;/a&gt;. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Photos of Istanbul as I flew from Ataturk Airport Wednesday, July 5, 2006&lt;br clear="all" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6638159-115228438231395752?l=insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com/feeds/115228438231395752/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6638159&amp;postID=115228438231395752&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6638159/posts/default/115228438231395752'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6638159/posts/default/115228438231395752'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com/2006/07/leaving-istanbul_115228438231395752.html' title='Leaving Istanbul'/><author><name>Krisia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03746222871170523486</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://static.flickr.com/76/192953712_c8af85065a_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6638159.post-115228437807457701</id><published>2006-07-07T17:55:00.003+03:00</published><updated>2006-07-07T17:59:38.073+03:00</updated><title type='text'>Leaving Istanbul</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="float: right; margin-left: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px;"&gt; &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/krisia/184092011/" title="photo sharing"&gt;&lt;img src="http://static.flickr.com/63/184092011_712672cf99_m.jpg" alt="" style="border: solid 2px #000000;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="font-size: 0.9em; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;  &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/krisia/184092011/"&gt;Leaving Istanbul&lt;/a&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;  Originally uploaded by &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/people/krisia/"&gt;Krisia&lt;/a&gt;. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Photos of Istanbul as I flew from Ataturk Airport Wednesday, July 5, 2006&lt;br clear="all" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6638159-115228437807457701?l=insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com/feeds/115228437807457701/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6638159&amp;postID=115228437807457701&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6638159/posts/default/115228437807457701'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6638159/posts/default/115228437807457701'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com/2006/07/leaving-istanbul_115228437807457701.html' title='Leaving Istanbul'/><author><name>Krisia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03746222871170523486</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://static.flickr.com/76/192953712_c8af85065a_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6638159.post-115228437441361790</id><published>2006-07-07T17:55:00.002+03:00</published><updated>2006-07-07T17:59:34.413+03:00</updated><title type='text'>Leaving Istanbul</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="float: right; margin-left: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px;"&gt; &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/krisia/184091971/" title="photo sharing"&gt;&lt;img src="http://static.flickr.com/66/184091971_729c6e2f82_m.jpg" alt="" style="border: solid 2px #000000;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="font-size: 0.9em; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;  &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/krisia/184091971/"&gt;Leaving Istanbul&lt;/a&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;  Originally uploaded by &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/people/krisia/"&gt;Krisia&lt;/a&gt;. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Photos of Istanbul as I flew from Ataturk Airport Wednesday, July 5, 2006&lt;br clear="all" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6638159-115228437441361790?l=insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com/feeds/115228437441361790/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6638159&amp;postID=115228437441361790&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6638159/posts/default/115228437441361790'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6638159/posts/default/115228437441361790'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com/2006/07/leaving-istanbul_115228437441361790.html' title='Leaving Istanbul'/><author><name>Krisia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03746222871170523486</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://static.flickr.com/76/192953712_c8af85065a_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6638159.post-115228437075808984</id><published>2006-07-07T17:55:00.001+03:00</published><updated>2006-07-07T17:59:30.766+03:00</updated><title type='text'>Leaving Istanbul</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="float: right; margin-left: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px;"&gt; &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/krisia/184091934/" title="photo sharing"&gt;&lt;img src="http://static.flickr.com/60/184091934_3668c3271a_m.jpg" alt="" style="border: solid 2px #000000;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="font-size: 0.9em; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;  &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/krisia/184091934/"&gt;Leaving Istanbul&lt;/a&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;  Originally uploaded by &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/people/krisia/"&gt;Krisia&lt;/a&gt;. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Photos of Istanbul as I flew from Ataturk Airport Wednesday, July 5, 2006&lt;br clear="all" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6638159-115228437075808984?l=insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com/feeds/115228437075808984/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6638159&amp;postID=115228437075808984&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6638159/posts/default/115228437075808984'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6638159/posts/default/115228437075808984'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com/2006/07/leaving-istanbul_115228437075808984.html' title='Leaving Istanbul'/><author><name>Krisia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03746222871170523486</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://static.flickr.com/76/192953712_c8af85065a_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6638159.post-115228435490122402</id><published>2006-07-07T17:55:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2006-07-07T17:59:18.476+03:00</updated><title type='text'>Leaving Istanbul</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="float: right; margin-left: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px;"&gt; &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/krisia/184091722/" title="photo sharing"&gt;&lt;img src="http://static.flickr.com/77/184091722_b2ed5053b6_m.jpg" alt="" style="border: solid 2px #000000;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="font-size: 0.9em; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;  &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/krisia/184091722/"&gt;Leaving Istanbul&lt;/a&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;  Originally uploaded by &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/people/krisia/"&gt;Krisia&lt;/a&gt;. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Photos of Istanbul as I flew from Ataturk Airport Wednesday, July 5, 2006&lt;br clear="all" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6638159-115228435490122402?l=insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com/feeds/115228435490122402/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6638159&amp;postID=115228435490122402&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6638159/posts/default/115228435490122402'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6638159/posts/default/115228435490122402'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com/2006/07/leaving-istanbul.html' title='Leaving Istanbul'/><author><name>Krisia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03746222871170523486</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://static.flickr.com/76/192953712_c8af85065a_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6638159.post-115226122337729258</id><published>2006-07-07T11:33:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2006-07-07T11:33:46.440+03:00</updated><title type='text'>An Alitalian Adventure</title><content type='html'>I was planning to go to the States to Sherri's wedding. 2 months ago I realised that the obvious solution to my problems caused by the crashing Turkish Lira exchange rate, and the prices of flights around the most expensive weekend of the year to fly to the States was for me not to go. It was a hard decision to make, since I had been planning to go for a year, and I was due to play the violin in the wedding. What made it doubly hard was that it would be the first time our whole family was together in about 15 years. By family I mean my mom, her 2 sisters, and all the kids. I didn't want to miss that. Unfortunately I am. I realised that to spend over $1000 on the plane ticket, and then countless more on hotel, car rental, food etc, was just impossible. Especially with the lira-dollar exchange rate. &lt;br&gt; &lt;br&gt; Cancelling this trip meant that I now had my first vacation since I came to Turkey. 3 weeks in which to do... what? &lt;br&gt; &lt;br&gt; Let me add a little note here about budget airlines. Over on the other side of the world, I don't think there are things like RyanAir and EasyJet and that family of transportation. Some of the prices I may quote seem unbelievable, and that's the cool part.... Check out RyanAir.com and EasyJet.com if you don't believe me.&lt;br&gt; &lt;br&gt; I looked online, and compared the prices of taking a holiday in Turkey, bus, hotel, meals etc, with the price of a trip to Paris to see Violetta. I found that if I combined a trip to Paris with a trip to Spain, I could travel for extremely little. Between a cheap round-trip ticket to Barcelona on Alitalia, and a crazy cheap (i.e. the price of a meal) ticket to Paris from Barcelona, I could spend less than 150 Euros total travelling. Combined with staying with friends (who I was dying to see anyway) and eating in, this trip was well within budget. So I booked it.&lt;br&gt; &lt;br&gt; On July 5th, I was scheduled to leave Istanbul and fly to Barcelona via Milan on Alitalia. I was right on schedule with my plans to get to the airport, and was sitting on the seabus, when my phone rang. The lady from alitalia on the other end was trying to explain to me that the flight was delayed and I would miss my connection, so I would be going to Barcelona tomorrow, but I should come to the office and get a voucher. I had no idea what she meant. At first I thought I was going abck home to Kadikoy for another night and taking the flight the next day. She then explained that I would stay in Milan overnight and the airline would pay for the hotel and dinner and breakfast, and then I would be on the first flight to Barcelona in the morning. Dude, that was ok. I had originally planned to bunk on the couchat Peyman's flat in Barcelona, so staying in a hotel in Milan was a much better prospect. Especially since Pey was leaving early in the morning and I'd have to leave the house when he left. As long as I was in Girona (an hour north of BCN) for my flight at 8 in the evening to Paris, I'd be fine. So I tried calling Pey, couldn't reach him, and sent him an e-mail to let him know I wasn't coming.&lt;br&gt; &lt;br&gt; I arrived at the airport, and the line at the ticket counter where I had to go to reorganise my flight plan and deal with the voucher, was long. After about 20 minutes, the lady called for all the Barcelona passengers to come to the front. After looking at the tickets and talking on the phone for a few minutes, she told us that there was a flight with another airline with a connection to Barcelona and that she would schedule us on that flight, so we would be in Barcelona that night. No Milan, actually the connection was in Vienna. Cool, I thought, as I tried to phone Peyman again and settled for sending him a text message. &amp;quot;I sent you an e-mail and voice mail saying that I wasn't coming, plans have changed, now I am. C U 2nite.&amp;quot; Or something to that effect. The idea was first I was coming, then I wasn't coming, now I was coming again. For the next 45 minutes, the Alitalia woman reissued all our tickets again (they had been reissued earlier to include a Milan layover). Somewhere in the middle of the typing on the computer, talking on the phone and printing out and ripping up things, she got a phone call. Apparently there was a problem with the Vienna connection and we wouldn't be able to do it after all. More tickets ripped up, more reissuing, and the 7 of us Barcelona passengers stood looking harassed as all the other passengers received their reissued tickets and walked off happily to check in. &lt;br&gt; &lt;br&gt; We finally got our new tickets (which were the same as the old tickets, not the original ticket, but the Mark II version. This was ticket Mark IV), and went to check in. At check-in, after finding out that in all the reissuing, I had lost my exit row window seat which I had taken the trouble of booking the day before . I then watched my bag go through, looked at the tag, and realised that it was checked to Barcelona. So I asked if I would get it in Milan, she said no. So basically, I was overnighting with no luggage. I asked if it would be possible to arrange for me to pick up my bag in Milan, she said no. It seemed strange to me, because everytime I've had an overnight connection, I've also had to pick up my luggage.... Luckily, my mom taught me well, and my carry on bag contained a change of underwear and toiletries. &lt;br&gt; &lt;br&gt; We arrived in Milan an hour and half late. Exactly 9 p.m. The same time our flight to Barcelona was due to depart. I skipped the luggage conveyor but went over to baggage services just to make sure I didn't need to pick up my suitcase. It would suck to arrive in Barcelona the next day with no bag, especially since I was leaving for Paris the next evening.&lt;br&gt; &lt;br&gt; I found 4 of the the other 6 Barcelona travellers at the luggage conveyor picking up their luggage. They said that at check-in, they were told that it was impossible to check it through to Barcelona since there was an overnight layover. That's when I started to get nervous. They had been told the exact opposite of what I had been told. &lt;br&gt; &lt;br&gt; We went to the ticket counter to get our hotel vouchers. Got to the front of the line and were told to go to the check-in counter. There we met the other 2 stranded Barcelona-bound passengers waiting. THe guy at the counter said that someone else was coming and they should wait. He wasn't doing anything. We realised half an hour later that we were waiting for his shift to end, so someone else could come and deal with us. Not just anyone, but The New Girl. She had no idea what she was doing and was very easily confused. It took her about 45 minutes and 25 phone calls to start issuing us with vouchers for dinner and breakfast and hotel and airport transfers. Mine was finished first so I also asked her to check and make sure my bag was headed in the right direction. This was difficult for her, since while she was on hold for 10 minutes with the baggage people, it was impossible for her to handle the other passengers' vouchers. I told her to forget it and deal with them, since I was holding everyone up. It also came out that the other couple travelling, had been offered the option of collecting their bags in Milan, or sending them through to Barcelona.. Three groups, three different stories. All in all I was the only one out of the 7 of us who had no luggage....&lt;br&gt; &lt;br&gt; While we waited, France scored a goal in the semi-final match and still we waited. As she was starting on the last voucher, she got a call. She then explained to us that the past hour and a half had basically been a waste of time. The flight to Barcelona had been delayed by 2 hours and was still here in Milan. That's the flight that ticket Mark I had us on. Of course, none of us still had ticket Mark I, and the inept agent we were dealing with now had to cancel 7 ticket Mark IVs, issue 7 ticket Mark Vs and check us and our luggage in to the flight. She informed me that my bag had already been put on the flight. Basically, the 9 p.m. flight was now leaving at 11:30 p.m. and we would arrive in Barcelona at 2 a..m. or something crazy like that. Hold up. I have cancelled my plans in Barcelona, re-made them and cancelled them. Now you're telling me that I have to give up this voucher in my hand which allows me to keep things as they are and rest tonight and fly tomorrow, and instead rush now to get reissued another time (which, in my experience that day, takes about 45 minutes) and arrive in Barcelona in the wee hours of the morning with nowhere to stay, and no public transportation. I told her not to bother with my ticket. I was keeping things how they were. She looked both surprised and relieved. That meant only 6 tickets to reissue. I told her to leave my luggage on the flight and I would see it in Barcelona the next day. I took my voucher and headed for my Italian dinner, and comfy hotel room.&lt;br&gt; &lt;br&gt; The next morning, I didn't have to check in, because that had been done the night before and I had my borading pass, and no luggage. I got on the plane, and there, in seat 26A, my seat, was someone else with a boarding pass, also for seat 26A. I had to wait for the whole flight to fill up and took the last available seat, luckily also an A window. Our flight left with no delays. I arrived in Barcelona, all prepared mentally to give a description of my bag in Spanish to baggage services, because I knew it wouldn't be there. Thank goodness. I was wrong.&lt;br&gt; &lt;br&gt; After my Alitalian Adventure, spending a day re-exploring Barcelona was relaxing and fun. I hopped on the shuttle to Girona, and caught my RyanAir flight with much less fuss and confusion. I arrived in Paris at 11 last night and saw Violetta. It was so good to see her again!!! This morning we went to a cafe around the corner for some coffee and a croissant, and now I'm heading out to explore Paris under overcast but comfortable weather....&lt;br&gt; &lt;br&gt; &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6638159-115226122337729258?l=insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com/feeds/115226122337729258/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6638159&amp;postID=115226122337729258&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6638159/posts/default/115226122337729258'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6638159/posts/default/115226122337729258'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com/2006/07/alitalian-adventure.html' title='An Alitalian Adventure'/><author><name>Krisia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03746222871170523486</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://static.flickr.com/76/192953712_c8af85065a_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6638159.post-114847401617688457</id><published>2006-05-24T15:30:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2006-05-24T15:38:59.790+03:00</updated><title type='text'>Birthday Pic</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN-BOTTOM: 10px; MARGIN-LEFT: 10px"&gt;&lt;a title="photo sharing" href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/krisia/152454825/"&gt;&lt;img style="BORDER-RIGHT: #000000 2px solid; BORDER-TOP: #000000 2px solid; BORDER-LEFT: #000000 2px solid; BORDER-BOTTOM: #000000 2px solid" alt="" src="http://static.flickr.com/45/152454825_65fb6338ac_m.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="MARGIN-TOP: 0px;font-size:0;" &gt;&lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/krisia/152454825/"&gt;Birthday Pic&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Originally uploaded by &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/people/krisia/"&gt;Krisia&lt;/a&gt;. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;We went bowling for my birthday. Here's a group pic....&lt;br clear="all"&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6638159-114847401617688457?l=insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com/feeds/114847401617688457/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6638159&amp;postID=114847401617688457&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6638159/posts/default/114847401617688457'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6638159/posts/default/114847401617688457'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com/2006/05/birthday-pic.html' title='Birthday Pic'/><author><name>Krisia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03746222871170523486</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://static.flickr.com/76/192953712_c8af85065a_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6638159.post-114406273571202312</id><published>2006-04-03T14:12:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2006-04-10T14:14:52.306+03:00</updated><title type='text'>It's been so long...</title><content type='html'>It's not that I have nothing to say. I just haven't been inclined to blog it. Let's see if I can sum up the last few weeks since my last blog in the 5 minutes I've given myself to blog it. Work's good, the cats are good, Rebecca (my flatmate) is doing well, her dad came to visit for a while and that was nice. We saw a solar eclipse last week (the partial in real life through a hastily-constructed pinhole camera which I somehow remembered how to make from high school physics, and the total simultaneously on television as it happened in Antalya, south of here. On a related note, during the eclipse, I was so excited that I called my parents, remembering later that we had just started daylight saving time, so I apologise mom and dad e because I think I called you at 4:45 a.m.! Geesh, and they were so sweet, they didn't even mention it! Also related, I've added myself to the Skypers of the world. I love it. If you want to add me then just add the word Krazy to myfirst name and there i'll be. I can't use it very often, since the work computer has no sound capabilities, however I go to an internet cafe nearby when necessary.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My Turkish is improving. I've lost most of my Spanish.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm still going to the gym every day. Still losing weight. I started a new "diet". Not so much a diet as a change in eating. After the first week I realised that I've been hungry since October! For the first time, I'm losing weight and I'm not hungry. That's nice. None of my clothes from last year fit. They look like they belong to a big fat woman. They did.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I met a guy. He's really nice. We hang out a lot. Mostly reading.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was at my company class a couple of weeks ago and one of my students mentioned that there was a nother Bermudian woman living here. I've since met her. She and her sister are both married to Turks. Jennifer and Jane Conyers. There's another Bermudian in Istanbul as well, Denise something. The chances of 4 Bermudians in Istanbul are pretty slim. I thought it was kinda cool.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I cut my hair last night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm doing latin dance classes. I'm getting really good, and having fun and making friends. Salsa, mostly, but also merengue, cha cha cha and bacchata. It's also half an hour's walk from my house, so I'm getting extra exercise.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I play squash. It's fun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Time's up! Don't forget my birthday this Saturday :o)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6638159-114406273571202312?l=insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com/feeds/114406273571202312/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6638159&amp;postID=114406273571202312&amp;isPopup=true' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6638159/posts/default/114406273571202312'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6638159/posts/default/114406273571202312'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com/2006/04/its-been-so-long.html' title='It&apos;s been so long...'/><author><name>Krisia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03746222871170523486</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://static.flickr.com/76/192953712_c8af85065a_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6638159.post-114072461293766461</id><published>2006-02-23T21:56:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-02-23T21:56:52.980+02:00</updated><title type='text'>When and How did I get so BUSY?</title><content type='html'>When did it happen? I no longer have time to blog, answer e-mails check out Google Earth, Wikipedia or my friends' blogs. I haven't sent a personal e-mail of more than 5 lines in about 2 months. I can't figure out what's happening with my time. I let my class out early tonight, I was sick and tired of them. I know it sounds bad but it's true! I was teaching present perfect continuous, which always gets them because they don't have present perfect in their own language, and how do you explain a tense that is talking about the past but is actually the present? So that confused them on Monday and Tuesday and then today I go and throw in the continuous aspect of it and time words like &amp;quot;for&amp;quot; &amp;quot;since and &amp;quot;ago&amp;quot;. English is so complicated! Anyway, I got tired of the looks of complete incomprehension from some of the students as I explained for the 15th time, while the other students sat there getting into trouble because they were bored. &lt;br&gt; &lt;br&gt; Teaching is fun though. &lt;br&gt; &lt;br&gt; I think my soluteion to my time problem is to get a computer at home. Unfortunately, that's way down on the list of priorities. &lt;br&gt; &lt;br&gt; Speaking of priorities, my birthday is April 8th and I've already decided what I want. I would love 3 magazine subscriptions: Rodale's Scuba Diving, National Geographic, and Scientific American. No need for it to be a surprise. If you'd like to give me a gift that I'd really love, e-mail me and I'll give you my address :o)&lt;br&gt; &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6638159-114072461293766461?l=insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com/feeds/114072461293766461/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6638159&amp;postID=114072461293766461&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6638159/posts/default/114072461293766461'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6638159/posts/default/114072461293766461'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com/2006/02/when-and-how-did-i-get-so-busy.html' title='When and How did I get so BUSY?'/><author><name>Krisia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03746222871170523486</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://static.flickr.com/76/192953712_c8af85065a_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6638159.post-113852811459198911</id><published>2006-01-29T11:48:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-01-29T11:51:39.546+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Gym folks go bowling</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="float: right; margin-left: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px;"&gt; &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/krisia/92504954/" title="photo sharing"&gt;&lt;img src="http://static.flickr.com/19/92504954_a897fe6784_m.jpg" alt="" style="border: 2px solid rgb(0, 0, 0);" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="margin-top: 0px;font-size:0;" &gt;  &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/krisia/92504954/"&gt;Gym folks go bowling&lt;/a&gt; &lt;br /&gt; Originally uploaded by &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/people/krisia/"&gt;Krisia&lt;/a&gt;. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Last night I met up with some friends from the gym and made some new friends as well. We all went bowling and had a wonderful time! Afterwards we went to a cafe for the ubiquitous Turkish tea. Click on the picture or click &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/krisia/sets/72057594055584629/show/"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;here&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;  and check out the others!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6638159-113852811459198911?l=insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com/feeds/113852811459198911/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6638159&amp;postID=113852811459198911&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6638159/posts/default/113852811459198911'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6638159/posts/default/113852811459198911'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com/2006/01/gym-folks-go-bowling.html' title='Gym folks go bowling'/><author><name>Krisia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03746222871170523486</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://static.flickr.com/76/192953712_c8af85065a_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6638159.post-113750225812616201</id><published>2006-01-17T14:50:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-01-19T11:41:24.436+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Santa's a little strange in Turkey...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="float: right; margin-left: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px;"&gt; &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/krisia/87790270/" title="photo sharing"&gt;&lt;img src="http://static.flickr.com/40/87790270_7f899ff641_m.jpg" alt="" style="border: 2px solid rgb(0, 0, 0);" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="margin-top: 0px;font-size:0;" &gt;  &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/krisia/87790270/"&gt;Santa's a little strange in Turkey...&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Originally uploaded by &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/people/krisia/"&gt;Krisia&lt;/a&gt;. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Maybe because of bird flu, he hasn't been eating chicken and lost a lot of weight. Also, he's been shopping for his suits at the Grand Bazaar.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Whatever the explanation, Santa definitely looks different in Istanbul!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6638159-113750225812616201?l=insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com/feeds/113750225812616201/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6638159&amp;postID=113750225812616201&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6638159/posts/default/113750225812616201'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6638159/posts/default/113750225812616201'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com/2006/01/santas-little-strange-in-turkey.html' title='Santa&apos;s a little strange in Turkey...'/><author><name>Krisia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03746222871170523486</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://static.flickr.com/76/192953712_c8af85065a_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6638159.post-113750185388699646</id><published>2006-01-17T14:44:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-01-19T11:40:29.940+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Duygu</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="float: right; margin-left: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px;"&gt; &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/krisia/87789295/" title="photo sharing"&gt;&lt;img src="http://static.flickr.com/39/87789295_721f271fe5_m.jpg" alt="" style="border: 2px solid rgb(0, 0, 0);" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="margin-top: 0px;font-size:0;" &gt;  &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/krisia/87789295/"&gt;Duygu&lt;/a&gt; &lt;br /&gt; Originally uploaded by &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/people/krisia/"&gt;Krisia&lt;/a&gt;. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;When I started going to the gym a few months ago, one of the first people I met was Duygu. She's a (hmmm) I want to say sculptor, but I know that's wrong. She does ceramics stuff.... pottery... oh a potter! I guess... That's&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;what she studied in university. Right now she's a d.j. at Arka Oda, a bar in Kadikoy. She's also my squash partner. I owe her a Starbuck's coffee because I lost the match yesterday..... She's really nice, lots of fun :o) This is her in the mirror of the gym locker room....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6638159-113750185388699646?l=insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com/feeds/113750185388699646/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6638159&amp;postID=113750185388699646&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6638159/posts/default/113750185388699646'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6638159/posts/default/113750185388699646'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com/2006/01/duygu.html' title='Duygu'/><author><name>Krisia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03746222871170523486</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://static.flickr.com/76/192953712_c8af85065a_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6638159.post-113750161489854562</id><published>2006-01-17T14:40:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-01-19T11:46:24.090+02:00</updated><title type='text'>flatmate, and her boyfriend</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="float: right; margin-left: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px;"&gt; &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/krisia/87788490/" title="photo sharing"&gt;&lt;img src="http://static.flickr.com/42/87788490_db56c25a4d_m.jpg" alt="" style="border: 2px solid rgb(0, 0, 0);" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="margin-top: 0px;font-size:0;" &gt;  &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/krisia/87788490/"&gt;flatmate, and her boyfriend&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Originally uploaded by &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/people/krisia/"&gt;Krisia&lt;/a&gt;. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;This is Rebecca and her erkek arkadaş, Cengiz. He's a sweetie.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6638159-113750161489854562?l=insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com/feeds/113750161489854562/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6638159&amp;postID=113750161489854562&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6638159/posts/default/113750161489854562'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6638159/posts/default/113750161489854562'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com/2006/01/flatmate-and-her-boyfriend.html' title='flatmate, and her boyfriend'/><author><name>Krisia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03746222871170523486</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://static.flickr.com/76/192953712_c8af85065a_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6638159.post-113750159429779487</id><published>2006-01-17T14:39:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-01-17T14:39:54.303+02:00</updated><title type='text'>flatmate</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="float: right; margin-left: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px;"&gt; &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/krisia/87788222/" title="photo sharing"&gt;&lt;img src="http://static.flickr.com/38/87788222_c6f2a66a6c_m.jpg" alt="" style="border: solid 2px #000000;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="font-size: 0.9em; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;  &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/krisia/87788222/"&gt;flatmate&lt;/a&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;  Originally uploaded by &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/people/krisia/"&gt;Krisia&lt;/a&gt;. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;I realised that I have pics of the cats but none of my human flatmate,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rebecca. She's from Oxford, England. She's the best flatmate in the world&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;:o)&lt;br clear="all" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6638159-113750159429779487?l=insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com/feeds/113750159429779487/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6638159&amp;postID=113750159429779487&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6638159/posts/default/113750159429779487'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6638159/posts/default/113750159429779487'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com/2006/01/flatmate.html' title='flatmate'/><author><name>Krisia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03746222871170523486</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://static.flickr.com/76/192953712_c8af85065a_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6638159.post-113750098352443597</id><published>2006-01-17T14:29:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-01-17T14:29:43.586+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Coffee Cups</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="float: right; margin-left: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px;"&gt; &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/krisia/87786242/" title="photo sharing"&gt;&lt;img src="http://static.flickr.com/37/87786242_3d40d9a55e_m.jpg" alt="" style="border: solid 2px #000000;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="font-size: 0.9em; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;  &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/krisia/87786242/"&gt;Coffee Cups&lt;/a&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;  Originally uploaded by &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/people/krisia/"&gt;Krisia&lt;/a&gt;. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;I had my last lesson with my weekend class on Sunday. On Saturday evening,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;they came over for dinner. They presented me with a gift, these coffee cups.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They are the small ones, designed for Turkish coffee (espresso or demitasse&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;cups). They're gorgeous, 6 different colours, gold rim, square instead of&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;round, very unique and pretty. They told me to think of them when I use&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;them, which I will :o)&lt;br clear="all" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6638159-113750098352443597?l=insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com/feeds/113750098352443597/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6638159&amp;postID=113750098352443597&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6638159/posts/default/113750098352443597'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6638159/posts/default/113750098352443597'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com/2006/01/coffee-cups.html' title='Coffee Cups'/><author><name>Krisia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03746222871170523486</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://static.flickr.com/76/192953712_c8af85065a_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6638159.post-113741194626092201</id><published>2006-01-16T13:45:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-01-16T13:45:46.266+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Me and the Senior Education Adviser</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="float: right; margin-left: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px;"&gt; &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/krisia/87321211/" title="photo sharing"&gt;&lt;img src="http://static.flickr.com/40/87321211_b1cc6bc605_m.jpg" alt="" style="border: solid 2px #000000;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="font-size: 0.9em; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;  &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/krisia/87321211/"&gt;Me and the Senior Education Adviser&lt;/a&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;  Originally uploaded by &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/people/krisia/"&gt;Krisia&lt;/a&gt;. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Now that there are no other education advisers, Halil has promoted himself&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and is now known as the Senior Education Adviser (a.k.a. Superman) :o)&lt;br clear="all" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6638159-113741194626092201?l=insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com/feeds/113741194626092201/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6638159&amp;postID=113741194626092201&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6638159/posts/default/113741194626092201'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6638159/posts/default/113741194626092201'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com/2006/01/me-and-senior-education-adviser.html' title='Me and the Senior Education Adviser'/><author><name>Krisia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03746222871170523486</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://static.flickr.com/76/192953712_c8af85065a_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6638159.post-113741186390986251</id><published>2006-01-16T13:44:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-01-19T11:43:09.453+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Savaş and Barış</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="float: right; margin-left: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px;"&gt; &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/krisia/87320865/" title="photo sharing"&gt;&lt;img src="http://static.flickr.com/43/87320865_3dcec94e03_m.jpg" alt="" style="border: 2px solid rgb(0, 0, 0);" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="margin-top: 0px;font-size:0;" &gt;  &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/krisia/87320865/"&gt;Savas and Baris&lt;/a&gt; &lt;br /&gt; Originally uploaded by &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/people/krisia/"&gt;Krisia&lt;/a&gt;. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Savaş is in the foreground. Her name means "war", it's a common Turkish name. Barış, in the back, licking his lips, means "peace". Also a common Turkish name. I've heard Barış used for men and women, but Savaş is usually a boy's name.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We named them according to their characters, rather than their genders :o)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6638159-113741186390986251?l=insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com/feeds/113741186390986251/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6638159&amp;postID=113741186390986251&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6638159/posts/default/113741186390986251'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6638159/posts/default/113741186390986251'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com/2006/01/sava-and-bar.html' title='Savaş and Barış'/><author><name>Krisia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03746222871170523486</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://static.flickr.com/76/192953712_c8af85065a_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6638159.post-113741174893357101</id><published>2006-01-16T13:42:00.001+02:00</published><updated>2006-01-19T11:43:43.336+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Crowded in the Bus</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="float: right; margin-left: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px;"&gt; &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/krisia/87319999/" title="photo sharing"&gt;&lt;img src="http://static.flickr.com/38/87319999_03c7cbcb82_m.jpg" alt="" style="border: 2px solid rgb(0, 0, 0);" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="margin-top: 0px;font-size:0;" &gt;  &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/krisia/87319999/"&gt;Crowded in the Bus&lt;/a&gt; &lt;br /&gt; Originally uploaded by &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/people/krisia/"&gt;Krisia&lt;/a&gt;. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;This is a shot I took in the bus when our train couldn't go across onMonday. The guy next to me is from Athens, and he was holding a lot of stuff in his lap because there was no more room on the floor of the bus, in the aisles or under the seats to put it!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6638159-113741174893357101?l=insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com/feeds/113741174893357101/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6638159&amp;postID=113741174893357101&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6638159/posts/default/113741174893357101'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6638159/posts/default/113741174893357101'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com/2006/01/crowded-in-bus.html' title='Crowded in the Bus'/><author><name>Krisia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03746222871170523486</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://static.flickr.com/76/192953712_c8af85065a_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6638159.post-113741174714652120</id><published>2006-01-16T13:42:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-01-16T13:42:27.153+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Roman Ruins</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="float: right; margin-left: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px;"&gt; &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/krisia/87320316/" title="photo sharing"&gt;&lt;img src="http://static.flickr.com/36/87320316_264ac33a08_m.jpg" alt="" style="border: solid 2px #000000;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="font-size: 0.9em; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;  &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/krisia/87320316/"&gt;Roman Ruins&lt;/a&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;  Originally uploaded by &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/people/krisia/"&gt;Krisia&lt;/a&gt;. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Roman ruins in Thessaloniki.&lt;br clear="all" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6638159-113741174714652120?l=insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com/feeds/113741174714652120/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6638159&amp;postID=113741174714652120&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6638159/posts/default/113741174714652120'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6638159/posts/default/113741174714652120'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com/2006/01/roman-ruins.html' title='Roman Ruins'/><author><name>Krisia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03746222871170523486</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://static.flickr.com/76/192953712_c8af85065a_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6638159.post-113741149910512738</id><published>2006-01-16T13:38:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-01-19T11:45:27.346+02:00</updated><title type='text'>A Thousand Words....</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="float: right; margin-left: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px;"&gt; &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/krisia/87319635/" title="photo sharing"&gt;&lt;img src="http://static.flickr.com/42/87319635_3da24346ff_m.jpg" alt="" style="border: 2px solid rgb(0, 0, 0);" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="margin-top: 0px;font-size:0;" &gt;  &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/krisia/87319635/"&gt;A Thousand Words....&lt;/a&gt; &lt;br /&gt; Originally uploaded by &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/people/krisia/"&gt;Krisia&lt;/a&gt;. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Mom said I don't have enough pictures.... So the next few blog entries will be photos of some Thessaloniki things and I just took some pics with the office staff. I also took a large number of pics of Barış (pronounced BarUSH - rhymes with "push") and Savaş (pronounced Savash), the cats Rebecca and I adopted in October. They are our pride and joy. :o)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This first picture is of Doğan (that's a silent g in the middle there) and Kemal. Kemal is the nice trucker that gave us a lift. As you can see, he smokes. It was a long road to Thessaloniki!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6638159-113741149910512738?l=insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com/feeds/113741149910512738/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6638159&amp;postID=113741149910512738&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6638159/posts/default/113741149910512738'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6638159/posts/default/113741149910512738'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com/2006/01/thousand-words.html' title='A Thousand Words....'/><author><name>Krisia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03746222871170523486</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://static.flickr.com/76/192953712_c8af85065a_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6638159.post-113706832366053887</id><published>2006-01-12T14:18:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-01-12T14:18:43.703+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Lonely Planet and Budget Hotels</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;I grew up travelling. I used to go with my parents all over the place and we either stayed with friends or in a hotel. I had the impression that all hotels were nice, had indoor pools, room service, were immaculate and I never gave a thought to what they must cost. Until 2003, the only other times I'd stayed in hotels were when I was bumped from a flight and then they put me up in an airport Holiday Inn or something, still nice. I had not a clue. &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;When I was in Haifa, I went on a trip with some other people to the Galilee. I wanted to camp. They wanted a hostel. We went to a hostel. At the time I was appalled. I had never imagined sleeping somewhere so gross and grimy and hot and nasty, with a shared unisex bathroom and shower down the hall. It was a rude awakening. Since then I've found out that nice hostels exist, as do nice budget hotels. But they are a different category altogether from the idea of &amp;quot;hotel&amp;quot; that I grew up with. The Lonely Planet Guide books have been a godsend in terms of finding decent, but cheap hotels and hostels in unfamiliar cities. However, guidebooks are put together by a variety of travellers with a variety of standards, so I've found the best thing to do is leave your bags somewhere safe, get the Lonely Planet out, and comb the city for the budget hotels. Read between the lines on the entries, and find the best value. LOOK AT THE ROOMS!!! Don't trust the book! Don't say yes to the seedy reception guy who asks if you want the room until you've seen it. This is how I spent my day. The first place looked really good on paper. It mentioned that the reception was a little offputting so I expected the scary-looking hunchbacked man that greeted me in Greek. I did not expect the dark dingy room with sticky linoleum floor and toilet with gross stains in it... I think I left that place running. After a couple of similar experiences, I found The One. The hotel that no one knows about that somehow is a million times better than the rest but for the same price. I have a hunch that every city has that hotel. It's just a matter of finding it. I paid the money, had a cup of (complimentary)&amp;nbsp;tea with the (handsome) receptionist guy, and headed off to explore the city and get my bag from the cloakroom of the other place. &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;The weather was beautiful, the city was gorgeous, and I had a great day. I found an Indian restaurant where I had lunch. It was absolutely delicious, though a bit too spicy. Now, about 10 hours later, large flakes of skin are peeling off the roof of my mouth... is that normal? It was good though! &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;I'm going back to the hotel to watch tv and read the books I brought with me. Trying not to think about the bird flu that awaits me in Istanbul.....&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6638159-113706832366053887?l=insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com/feeds/113706832366053887/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6638159&amp;postID=113706832366053887&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6638159/posts/default/113706832366053887'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6638159/posts/default/113706832366053887'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com/2006/01/lonely-planet-and-budget-hotels.html' title='Lonely Planet and Budget Hotels'/><author><name>Krisia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03746222871170523486</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://static.flickr.com/76/192953712_c8af85065a_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6638159.post-113693142222451215</id><published>2006-01-11T00:17:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-01-11T00:17:02.273+02:00</updated><title type='text'>It's all Greek to me...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;On Saturday evening after class, I made my final decision about my plans for the Bayram holiday. In the week leading up to that, I had gone through a number of options including, but not limited to: Fethiye with my flatmate, Bodrum and Rhodes, Skiing in Bulgaria with a gym friend, Plovdiv, Bulgaria with Georgina, visiting Violetta in Paris, and going somewhere, finding a cheap hotel, and chilling for a couple of days. Because of the  4.5 day bayram holiday (known to most people as Eid), which is celebrated with a ritual sacrifice of a sheep, or a cow, or some animal, and lots of eating and family get-togethers, I really didn't want to stay in Istanbul. I have nothing against holidays. However, during Kurban Bayram, I had been invited to quite a number of students' houses. I know from my experience back in 1991 that being at someone's house during Bayram means that you are a guest of honour when they serve the freshly slaughtered and prepared meat, the choicest part being the (ugh) liver, and to turn it down makes everyone sad, and is nearly impossible anyway. Having been invited by neighbours, students, people from the gym, etc, I realised the only excuse that worked was that I wouldn't be in Istanbul. That said, I had to make it so. I made my final decision and decided to go to Alexandroupoli. It's a small town near the Greece/Turkey border, on the Mediterranean. Cheap hotels aplenty (seaside towns in January are generally not in high season), and a short, cheap&amp;nbsp;bus trip made it the ideal destination. Turks have trouble getting visas to leave the country, so I figured it wouldn't be crowded with Turks doing some Bayram travelling. So after class on Saturday, I headed down to the bus company to buy a ticket. All the buses were full. There was one on Wednesday, but since I was planning to be back by Friday morning at the latest (to meet with a Baha'i coming from Haifa to Istanbul), that wasn't an option. I hopped on a ferry and went over to the train station at Sirkeci to try for a train ticket.  &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Sirkeci Train station is the historical home of the Orient Express. You can read about it in books and stuff. It was also the first place I set foot in Istanbul back on August 12, 1990. I found out from the enthusiastic guy at the information desk that tickets were available, and I wouldn't be able to get the youth discount because I was over 27. Too bad. I went and got the ticket, but the ticket guy didn't ask my age, and I guess I look like I'm 26 or younger because I got the discount! Woo hoo :o))))  &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Anyway, at 7 yesterday morning I headed to Sirkeci to catch my train. &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;It was quite comfortable, and nice. The train was divided into booth-like compartments, with 6 comfortable, reclining seats in each. I was in one with a guy named Dogan, who had just come back from Israel. He had sat next to&amp;nbsp;an Australian Baha'i 3 days before coming from Tel Aviv to Istanbul, and here he was in a train compartment with another! He had been thinking about it a lot since meeting her and had some questions to ask, which was pretty interesting. We chatted for a couple of hours, until we reached some place in the middle of nowhere, and 3 more people joined the compartment.  &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;About 4 hours into the trip, what is suppposed to happen is that the last car of the train is attached to another engine and gets taken over the border. Up until then, basically we are on the local train to Edirne, so there are lots of stops. Lots. After the border crossing, the train gets attached to a local train to Alexandroupoli, and that ride takes an hour. I was expecting to be there at about 2 in the afternoon. &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;What actually happened is that they disconnected us from the local train, as they were supposed to. The rest of the cars headed back to Istanbul. They then told use that the bridge up ahead was flooded and we would be unable to cross. We were given 2 options. We could sit in the train and wait for 2 hours, and the next local train would take us back to Istanbul, where we would be able to come again the next day ( i.e. I left home at 7 in the morning, would get back home at about 8 at night, and would have to leave home again the next morning at 7 to do it all over) - I think NOT! The other option was to wait about 20 minutes, and the train company had arranged for a bus which would take us an hour south to the next border crossing. The problem with this option was that the bus that took us to the border would not be allowed to carry us across (the driver not having a visa for Greece) and you have to cross the border in a vehicle. Dogan assured me and the Greek tourists in the next car and the nervous british man from 3 cars down that there were taxis that could take us across, and that we would find a way. Of course the other problem was that once we were across the border, we would be in this place 100 km from any towns or anything with no transportation, but that we would deal with when we got there. &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Given these two options, one of which would mean that I had wasted a day and gone nowhere, the other which had no conclusive plans, but definite adventure, I picked the obvious choice. An hour later (not 20 minutes) and freezing cold (it was about -7), I was in a minibus with 22 other adventurous travellers and their luggage, headed for the next border crossing. &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Another hour later we were at the border. The minibus driver went in and had a chat with the border guards, and they agreed to let him take us across to the other side, but with a police escort. We were grateful, and collected some tips to give him. At this point, there was palpable worry on the bus about what would happen at the other end. I was going to alexandroupoli, a nearby town, but most of the other passengers were headed for Thessaloniki and Athens. We were nowhere near the train station and the taxis that we had been told would be on the other side weren't. &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;After the Turkish exit, and while waiting for the Greek entry process to be complete, a couple of Turkish container truck drivers came over and offered us rides. I have never been in a container truck before and I found out that in addition to the 2 seats&amp;nbsp;for the driver and passenger, there are also bunk beds! Dude! So we rearranged ourselves into groups for the free rides. I joined a group going with Kemal. He was headed for Thessaloniki. OK so my destination was Alexandroupoli, but I heard that Thessaloniki was nice too, so what the heck! 5 hours later, we were at the port in Thessaloniki. It was 1 in the morning. I was tired, no exhausted. I knew nothing about the city I was in. The others headed for the train station to try and catch up with the train they would have been on, in order not to have wasted their ticket. I wandered around the city looking for a cheap hotel. I found a place that had heard about the train and gave me a great discount on a room for the night, I think in part because I looked so tired and pathetic. However, the hotel was about three stars more than I had budgeted for (my budget being in the range of &amp;quot;dirt cheap&amp;quot;) so I knew that I would have to leave.  &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;This morning&amp;nbsp;I woke up and had the continental breakfast included in the price of the hotel and grabbed some maps and headed out.&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Thessaloniki is a beautiful city! I realised then that I know not a word of Greek, except for what I heard on &amp;quot;My Big Fat Greek Wedding&amp;quot; which was a great movie, but not necessarily a very good language class! &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Fortunately, everyone here is very friendly. Last night in the truck, reading the signs in Greek and English,&amp;nbsp;and recalling the greek letters we used in maths, I was able to figure out most of the alphabet, so although I don't know the language, I'm not illiterate! I bought a lonely planet guide and investigated the budget hotels. &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;This requires a separate entry.&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6638159-113693142222451215?l=insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com/feeds/113693142222451215/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6638159&amp;postID=113693142222451215&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6638159/posts/default/113693142222451215'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6638159/posts/default/113693142222451215'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com/2006/01/its-all-greek-to-me.html' title='It&apos;s all Greek to me...'/><author><name>Krisia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03746222871170523486</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://static.flickr.com/76/192953712_c8af85065a_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6638159.post-113138719604064161</id><published>2005-11-07T20:13:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2005-11-07T20:13:16.086+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Bayram</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;After Ramazan there is a 3.5 day festival called Seker Bayram (sheh-KEHR BYE-rahm). It started last Wednesday afternoon and continued until saturday night. Ask any Turk what happens during Bayram and they will tell you that you kiss hands. As a sign of respect, you go around to all the old people you know, kiss their hand and put it to your forehead. Sounds really sweet, like there's a lot of love and respect for old people during Bayram.... Well, what they don't tell you is that the old people put a little piece of candy or some money in the hand you kiss and at the end of the affectionate interchange, it belongs to the young kisser. What people also neglected to tell us is that kids go around to the houses in the neighbourhood knocking on doors and wishing you a happy bayram. Of course, in exchange, you give them handfuls of candy. It's like trick-or-treating at halloween, except in the morning, and without costumes, and &amp;quot;Iyi Bayramlar&amp;quot; instead of &amp;quot;Trick-or-treat&amp;quot;.  &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Let me tell you a little about my first morning of Bayram....&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;First of all, my flatmate and I adopted 2 cats. Shhh..... don't tell anyone. So I was awakened by the cats in the morning. Something had scared them and they came running into my room and under the bed. It was someone at the door. Our doorbell sounds like birds chirping, then the chirping slows down, and sounds like birds dying. One press, and there's 5 seconds of dying birds. Someone pressed 3 times. I dragged myself out of bed (we had gone dancing in Taksim the night bfore and I had only been in bed for about 3 hours at this point). Anyway, I dragged myself out of bed and headed for the door. I took the wadded-up tissue out of the peephole (ghetto privacy) and saw a strange young&amp;nbsp;man. Now bear in mind, it's 7:30  a.m. on the first day of a long holiday. I figure if there is someone at the door, there must be a big problem. I contemplated whether or not to open it, when he killed the birds again. I unlocked the door and poked my sleepy head out.&amp;nbsp;It turns out he has a drum over his&amp;nbsp;shoulder. I then realised that I was standing face to face with the Ramazan Drummer.&amp;nbsp; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;During&amp;nbsp;Ramazan, those who are fasting wake up very very early to have breakfast before the&amp;nbsp;call to prayer indicating sunrise. In order to have time to wake up, clean up,&amp;nbsp;pray, prepare breakfast and then eat, they get up quite early, somewhere around&amp;nbsp;4  a.m.&amp;nbsp;if I remember correctly. However,&amp;nbsp;Turkey being the hospitable place that it is, they aren't going to just assume that you have an alarm clock to wake you up. There's a guy that comes around with a dream, beating on it in the echoey-hallways&amp;nbsp;of your apartment building EVERY SINGLE MORNING of Ramazan at 4  a.m. He doesn't do a halfway job either. He bangs loud enough to make sure that everyone in every flat of every building on his beat&amp;nbsp;is&amp;nbsp;awake.&amp;nbsp;Thank you very much. People who&amp;nbsp;are not fasting are not figured into the calculations here. Therefore, for a month, every day at 4&amp;nbsp;I was awakened by the&amp;nbsp;Ramazan Drummer. Of course by&amp;nbsp;the time I finally drifted off to sleep after his wake-up call, there was the call to prayer, which, during Ramazan was exceptionally loud, long and hearty.  &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;So there, on my doorstep, after I've had 3 hours sleep, is the Ramazan Drummer, waking me up on the first morning that I don't have to be awakened by the Ramazan Drummer. Apparently, it's another Turkish tradition to pay the drummer on the first day of Bayram, in apreciation for his selfless service. Needless to say, I did not give him what I thought he actually deserved. I mumbled incoherently at him and closed the door and tried to go back to bed.  &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;I drifted off to sleep, then the dying birds again. I ignored them. Whoever it was was pretty insistent, and after a few more rings of the doorbell I dragged myself out of bed again, secretly wishing I slept as deeply as my flatmate, dead to the world in her room, or her visiting friend, Daniela, our houseguest, also dead to the world. There at the door were 3 little Turkish girls wishing me a happy bayram! OOPS! No candy to give away. I explained to them in stilted early morning Turkish that I didn't know about the candy thing and we didn't have anything to give them. Hoping against hope that they didn't have the tradition of throwing rotten eggs at the neighbours who don't have candy.... Luckily they don't. Over the next 4 hours, the doorbell rang about 50 or so times. When I didn't answer, the kids banged their tiny little fists against the door until someone came. For the first 3 hours, no one else was awake. After that, we got Daniela to go to the door and tell them in English. All the kids in the neighbourhood know that Rebecca and I speak Turkish so having te unfamiliar houseguest babbling to them in English was the only thing that worked. Eventually the dying birds and banging tapered off.... &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Next Bayram I will be prepared with my candy!&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Oh yeah, and when i caught the bus on Friday, the driver wouldn't let me pay. I asked why and he said that public transportation is free during Bayram. I wish I had known earlier. I would have gone all over Istanbul in the ferry and seabus, and metro and tram, and everything!!! &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6638159-113138719604064161?l=insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com/feeds/113138719604064161/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6638159&amp;postID=113138719604064161&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6638159/posts/default/113138719604064161'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6638159/posts/default/113138719604064161'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com/2005/11/bayram.html' title='Bayram'/><author><name>Krisia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03746222871170523486</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://static.flickr.com/76/192953712_c8af85065a_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6638159.post-113138566699563926</id><published>2005-11-07T19:47:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2005-11-07T19:47:47.053+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Gym Jam</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;(I started this entry about 2 weeks ago now, so just add 2 weeks to all time references in the first 2 paragraphs)&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;I joined a gym a week and a half ago when I came back from Sofia. There was a promotional special for Interlang staff, and I had been looking for one to join for the past month or so. It all worked out perfectly.&lt;br&gt; On Tuesday I was chatting with a couple of the trainers (the gym, like all Turkish businesses, is very service-oriented. You don't have to think about anything, the instructors are all there for you constantly. I don't even have to get off the treadmill when I run out of water, just press the button and the instructor comes over to you, you ask for water, instructor calls down to the cafe on the intercom, cafe guy shows up 10 seconds later, at your treadmill, with your bottle of cold water! It's great. But I digress.) So I'm chatting with the&amp;nbsp;trainers, and somehow it comes up that I play the violin and guitar. One of them&amp;nbsp;suggested that I bring one of them sometime and play for them. It just so happened that the next day was a Baha'i Holy Day and I would have my guitar because I was going to the gym before the Holy Day &amp;nbsp;celebration, so the next day I had it there. I wasn't going to say anything, thinking that the trainers were just making the suggestion for the sake of conversation, but when I was leaving, one of them saw me with the guitar and called me back to play something. I went into the office and played a song. Some of you may know that generally when I'm playing the guitar and singing, I close my eyes. This is not out of shyness or anything, it's just that I still have trouble focusing when playing and singing at the same time and with my eyes closed I can concentrate. So I'm almost at the end of the song, and I open my eyes, and there at the door of the office, are 4 trainers, a couple of cleaning staff, and about 6 of the other member who had been working out. When I started the song there were just the 2 instructors there! Anyway, I was quite embarassed, but they all loved it and asked for more. I played one more then packed up. It turned out that one of the other members who was there working out was a professional guitarist and singer. He works in a cafe just around the corner from the gym. His name is Ozgur. He suggested we jam together sometime, and the other members, and the instructors all were trying to be sure it was a time when they could all make it, as you can imagine, it was pandemonium, and all in Turkish! Anyway, we decided to get together at the gym cafe on the following Friday night at 10. Hence the title of this entry :Gym Jam. &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;On the&amp;nbsp;Friday morning I went to the gym, and one of the trainers told em that there was another guitarist coming. I was really looking forward to it. &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Friday after class I headed over to the gym with my flatmate and another English teacher. We went down to the cafe, and there were about 30 people there! I was shocked. There were 3 chairs set up for the &amp;quot;performers&amp;quot; and there it was. We all took turns playing songs, singing, improvising backup, improvising gitar parts, and I occasionally drummed out a rhythm on the body of my guitar when the chords got too far out of my league. We had a great time jamming, and the audience (which I defintely wasn't expecting) loved it! What I was really surprised about was that I really wasn't nervous. That was nice. Anyway, it's encouraged me to play the guitar more and sing more. Ozgur and I are talking about setting up another time to actually work on some stuff together. I'm really looking forward to it. I really miss sitting down with musicians and just playing music together. It'll be interesting being a part of that as&amp;nbsp;a violinist, guitarist and singer now... it's so weird. People at the gym now refer to me as &amp;quot;the singer&amp;quot; (in&amp;nbsp;Turkish of course).... &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;That was the Gym Jam!&amp;nbsp;&lt;br&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6638159-113138566699563926?l=insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com/feeds/113138566699563926/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6638159&amp;postID=113138566699563926&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6638159/posts/default/113138566699563926'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6638159/posts/default/113138566699563926'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com/2005/11/gym-jam.html' title='Gym Jam'/><author><name>Krisia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03746222871170523486</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://static.flickr.com/76/192953712_c8af85065a_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6638159.post-112982338735578655</id><published>2005-10-20T18:49:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2005-10-20T18:49:47.410+03:00</updated><title type='text'>My Day Trip</title><content type='html'>Last you heard, I was on my way to a seemingly boring day in an interesting place. Here's the rest of it. &lt;br&gt; After I left the Internet cafe, I wandered around the city a bit. The plan was to visit the zoo, which seemed like an interesting place to see. One of the things I realised very quickly is that almost no one speaks English. Usually I'm not the kind of person to go to a country and not try to learn a few basic words and phrases first, but as you know, this trip was quite different. My mission was to find out how to use the public transportation to get to the zoo. One thing that I've realised is that the languages we speak are only a part of how we communicate. I got to put this to the test. The word &amp;quot;zoo&amp;quot;, fortunately, seems to have made it into the lexus of many languages, so that was easy. Here was a typical conversation:&lt;br&gt; Me: (big friendly smile)&lt;br&gt; Sofian[that being someone from Sofia, not an actual name]:(smile back)&lt;br&gt; M: (still smiling) Do you speak English? (using that higher-than-normal pitched, friendly voice that we all seem to use when talking to strangers politely)&lt;br&gt; S: (shaking head) &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;No &lt;/span&gt;(in this dialogue, italics mean it was in Bulgarian)&lt;br&gt; M: (undaunted and still smiling) Zoo? (pointing in many directions and shrugging shoulders using body language to ask the way)&lt;br&gt; S: (nodding vigorously and with a spark of understanding in eyes) Zoo! (then shaking head sadly) &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Very far!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br&gt; &lt;br&gt; At this point I must add some commentary. I didn't realise until then that there was obvious body language for &amp;quot;Very far&amp;quot;. There is. It was extremely clear that that was what the person was saying although it was in Bulgarian. I dunno if it was the slump of the shoulders, the raising of the eyebrows, or the hand motioning in repeated air circles radiating away from the body in a clockwise direction, but it was all very obvious.&lt;br&gt; &lt;br&gt; M: (mirroring sad look and spark of understanding) Ok. (then smiling) Thank you&lt;br&gt; S: (smiling) &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;You're welcome.&lt;br&gt; &lt;br&gt; &lt;/span&gt;I had this exact conversation with about 5 people before deciding that the zoo was too far to reach and I wouldn't be visiting it that day. Probably all for the better because I soon realised that the wather that seemed cold at 6 a.m. wasn't warming up. So I wandered around. I found a guy who sold maps of Sofia. He spoke about 4 words of English and was really excited about being able to practice them on me. Of course, they were interspersed with a liberal sprinkling of Bulgarian so it was puzzling at best. He invited me to sit with him at his newsstand and chat. I had nothing better to do, since the zoo thing was off the schedule. So we chatted for about 10 minutes about life the universe and everything, or at least I think we did... like I said, most of it was in Bulgarian. At the end of the conversation he told me that he had maps in&amp;nbsp; Swedish Russian and Greek, but none in English. I decided to try my luck elsewhere rather than paying for a map that I couldn't read. It was hard enough deciphering the street signs from cyrillic script. To then try to work it out on a swedish map was a little too much for me.&lt;br&gt; &lt;br&gt; Eventually I found a map. It cost 2 leva (or what I called &amp;quot;Bulgarian things&amp;quot; in my head for the whole trip). Yes, I found out the name of the currency. It's exchange is about 1.25 to 1 for the New Turkish Lira (which is one to one million old Turkish Lira), and the New Turkish Lira is 1.65 to one Euro or 1.35 to one dollar.... So that means 1 Bulgarian Leva is worth....??? Exactly! I had no clue either. I called them Bulgarian things, changed 30 Euro at the border, and hoped it would be enough! Basically, when it came to food, I looked at the price and decided if it sounded like a decent amount of money to pay. A big slice of pizza for 1 Leva? Excellent! A sandwich for 5 Leva? I don't think so! See! No conversion required :o)&lt;br&gt; &lt;br&gt; Soo I window shopped, and took in the sights of Sofia. At one point I bought some postcards (they were quite expensive - I wouldn't imagine paying more than 0.25 - 0.50 whatevers for a postcard, but these were about 0.75 Levas) in a 5 star hotel. I figured I needed to sit for a while, and I might as well be comfortable, and I wasn't buying a pen to write the postcards... So I went into this really nice hotel, asked the receptionist for a pen, bought the postcards in the gift shop, and sat in the lobby for an hour (writing postcards for 10 minutes, staring out the window for the other 50). It was nice. I then went on a search for the post office to buy stamps.&lt;br&gt; &lt;br&gt; This post is too long. I'm posting.&lt;br&gt; &lt;br&gt; ...to be continued...&lt;br&gt; &lt;br&gt;  &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6638159-112982338735578655?l=insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com/feeds/112982338735578655/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6638159&amp;postID=112982338735578655&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6638159/posts/default/112982338735578655'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6638159/posts/default/112982338735578655'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com/2005/10/my-day-trip.html' title='My Day Trip'/><author><name>Krisia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03746222871170523486</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://static.flickr.com/76/192953712_c8af85065a_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6638159.post-112901484436067394</id><published>2005-10-11T10:14:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2005-10-11T10:14:04.416+03:00</updated><title type='text'>At the Internet Cafe in Sofia</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="float: right; margin-left: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px;"&gt; &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/krisia/51488301/" title="photo sharing"&gt;&lt;img src="http://static.flickr.com/25/51488301_0be6022b66_m.jpg" alt="" style="border: solid 2px #000000;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="font-size: 0.9em; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;  &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/krisia/51488301/"&gt;At the Internet Cafe in Sofia&lt;/a&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;  Originally uploaded by &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/people/krisia/"&gt;Krisia&lt;/a&gt;. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;This is me :o)&lt;br clear="all" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6638159-112901484436067394?l=insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com/feeds/112901484436067394/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6638159&amp;postID=112901484436067394&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6638159/posts/default/112901484436067394'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6638159/posts/default/112901484436067394'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com/2005/10/at-internet-cafe-in-sofia.html' title='At the Internet Cafe in Sofia'/><author><name>Krisia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03746222871170523486</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://static.flickr.com/76/192953712_c8af85065a_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6638159.post-112901010078057000</id><published>2005-10-11T08:55:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2005-10-11T08:55:00.830+03:00</updated><title type='text'>Sofia</title><content type='html'>So, at 3 in the afternoon yesterday, I decided to take advantage of 3 days off and take a trip. I packed my backpack (realising later that I had forgotten essentials like toothbrush and underwear) and headed to Kadikoy. I found a bus to Sofia Bulgaria that was leaving at 8:30 p.m. When I called, they said there was no shuttle from Kadikoy to the main bus station, but when I turned up for my ticket, I asked again and they obliged. I went to Kadikoy to buy said forgotten items and got back to the bus station at 4:30, in time to get a little service bus that took me to some way out place, where I was put on a bus that had come from Ankara, and about an hour later, I was in Esenler, with 2 hours to spare. &lt;br&gt; Anyone who knows me knows that I am a pretty spontaneous person. However, this time it was a new level of spontaneity. When I reached the border at around 11 p.m., I went to the currency exchange place. It was at that point that I realised that I didn't even know what currency they used in Bulgaria, and since everything was written in cyrrillic script, the signs were no help either. Anyway, I changed 50 Euros and got 96 Bulgarian Whatevers and got my passport stamped and got back on the bus. I also realised at about that point that I had no idea when the bus would arrive in Sofia. I knew that there were a number of stops in Bulgarian cities, and Sofia was the last one, being on the far side of the country, but that's about it. In fact all I really knew about Bulgaria was that Sofia is the capital and the word &amp;quot;Restaurant&amp;quot; looks like &amp;quot;PECTOPAHT&amp;quot; - this last piece of information I gleaned from the big signs above the places with chairs and tables that served food by the side of the road. For the next few hours, between naps, I looked at street signs and tried to become literate. By the time I reached Sofia at quarter to 6 in the morning, I was semi-literate. Started to figure out vowels and consonants, and which sound the same as English and which are different, and which ones are just strange to me... e.g the &amp;quot;L&amp;quot; sound is made by something that looks like the Greek Pi but with a backwards hook on the left leg. The regular Pi is a P, X sounds like the english letter H, the D sound is made by a weird-looking boxy letter with squggles at the bottom. The backwards N, similar to the one in Hebrew that is the generic vowel with the same range as the English phoneme &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;schwa&lt;/span&gt;, makes the I sound. S,T,A and many others are the same.... Anyway the substitution game is kinda like doing a cryptogram puzzle. The trick is remembering the ones you're not sure of and checking them in words you can figure out.&lt;br&gt; So I arrived at the Sofia bus station at quarter to 6. I had a cup of coffee and a sandwich while working up the nerve to figure out where to go and what to do.I finally went downstairs&amp;nbsp; and asked directions on how to walk to the city centre. According to the woman it was a 10 minute walk. I know I walk slowly but... it was more like 40 minutes. The walk did me good though, after all those hours cooped up in the bus seat. So I got to the centre of Sofia and started looking for an internet cafe. I think it would probably be a good idea to take a look online and see what there is to do here. &lt;br&gt; There's something about walking through a city in the wee hours of the morning, just before sunrise. It's like seeing a beautiful woman in the morning before she puts on her makeup. I kind of got an idea of the potential the city had, and what it might look like in the full light of day, but there was something fresh and raw about it as well. Pretty cool. &lt;br&gt; So I found this place. After walking for about an hour and asking at a bunch of different places (with no helpful answers) I saw this sign, and was able to read the word &amp;quot;internet&amp;quot; despite the unfamiliar characters in it. It helps that the place is called [SITE] as well. Then I followed the signs down a narrow alley past a tattoo and piercing place, into an old building, up to the first floor and in a big steel door. What I found was a sweet old woman and her teenage son in this place with funky music, wooden floorboards, and multicoloured walls. It's obviously a 3-bedroom apartment that has been converted into a nice, airy internet cafe with flat screen monitors, cameras and the works. Very nice. &lt;br&gt; One of the reasons I wanted to live in Europe was that there is access to so many places. There are a lot of different cities and countries within a few hours' bus ride. So here I am, in Sofia, waiting for the world to wake up and join me here :)&lt;br&gt; &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6638159-112901010078057000?l=insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com/feeds/112901010078057000/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6638159&amp;postID=112901010078057000&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6638159/posts/default/112901010078057000'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6638159/posts/default/112901010078057000'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com/2005/10/sofia.html' title='Sofia'/><author><name>Krisia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03746222871170523486</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://static.flickr.com/76/192953712_c8af85065a_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6638159.post-112885187557015388</id><published>2005-10-09T12:57:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2005-10-09T12:57:55.633+03:00</updated><title type='text'>Racing Garbage Cart Men</title><content type='html'>You may remember a few months ago I posted a blog about garbage cart men. I would put a link here, but that's too much work and I don't feel like it. Check the archives if you really want to read it. My friend Dustin, a fellow teacher, also blogged recently about the eskicis and recylcle-cis that wander around trawling the dumpsters for various items. &lt;br&gt; I alos mentioned that one group of men (dubbed &amp;quot;recycle-cis&amp;quot; by me and pronounced &amp;quot;recycle-jeez&amp;quot; in English) have dolly-like trolleys with huge canvas one-ton sugar bags that they fill with either cardboard, plastic, cans or glass by going therough the dumpsters. Istanbulites (is that the word? Istanbullians, Istanbullers....? Istanbullies!!!!)&amp;nbsp; don't have any individual recycling programme, where you put your garbage in separate bags. However, one cannot say that Istanbul doesn't recycle. Judging by the number of these guys one can see in any given neighbourhood on any given day, I would guess that Istanbul probably recycles more stuff than any city I've ever lived in. I'm pretty sure almost every piece of glass, plastic, metal and paper that can be recycled is enthusiastically collected by these guys. They all seem to know the schedule for garbage collection (if one actually exists) or maybe they set it! I guarantee that within minutes of the recycle-cis leaving your neighbourhood, the garbage truck will show up. They're magical!&lt;br&gt; Anyway, what really inspired me to write this blog was that the other night while walking home along Hasanpasha street, two recycle-cis ran past at lightning speed with theur trolleys in tow. It looked like some kind of old-fashioned night-time chariot race... It was so hilarious! But maybe you had to be there....&lt;br&gt; &lt;br&gt; It's still Ramazan. &lt;br&gt; &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6638159-112885187557015388?l=insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com/feeds/112885187557015388/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6638159&amp;postID=112885187557015388&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6638159/posts/default/112885187557015388'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6638159/posts/default/112885187557015388'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com/2005/10/racing-garbage-cart-men.html' title='Racing Garbage Cart Men'/><author><name>Krisia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03746222871170523486</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://static.flickr.com/76/192953712_c8af85065a_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6638159.post-112853470508075769</id><published>2005-10-05T20:51:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2005-10-05T20:51:45.126+03:00</updated><title type='text'>First Day of Ramazan</title><content type='html'>Today was the first day of Ramazan (known in many other places as Ramadan), the Muslim month of fasting. As you may know, Turkey is known for not being a Shi'ih Muslim country. The population here is is 98% Sunni Muslim, and the majority of them aren't really practicing. Among the many changes Ataturk made (including changing the script from Arabic to Latin in one fell swoop), the secularisation of the country was among the biggest. This means that Islam is the religion of the majority, yes, but it is not technically an Islamic country, in that there is a separation of religion and government. &lt;br&gt; After having spent 3 Ramadans in Israel (and 2 Pesachs as well), and having my favourite Arab-Muslim run felafel stands and hummus places closed for a month during ramadan, and not being able to buy bread, pasta and various other non-kosher-for-pesach products for a month, I got used to the idea of the various fasts not only being carried out by the adherents of the religion, but spilling out onto other people as well. It was kinda nice, I thought. I think most of my sympathy for the plight of fasting restaurant workers comes from the fact that in March, during the Baha'i Fast, while I was growing up, I was one of maybe 2 or 3 students in my school of 500 who were fasting at that time, and had to sit there in the lunch quadrangle at the lunch bench with all my friends and fellow students while they ate. I wasn't allowed to not be around the food. I guess it's not hard enough for a 15-year old to not be eating from sunrise to sundown - the added test of sitting there while one's friends try to tempt you into breaking the Fast by waving food in front of your face builds character, I guess.&lt;br&gt; Anyway, back to Istanbul. So because of the large Muslim population, in theory, the whole city is on the whole Ramazan thing. However, because so many of the people here are not practicing, in reality, all the restaurants are still open, everything is still available, people still smoke absolutely everywhere and it seems to be a lot of Ramazan lip-service... kind of an excuse to have a BIG dinner at sunset.... &lt;br&gt; I met Sema to go to the hotel to check out the sound system and to make sure we would have everyhting we needed for the wedding on Saturday. After our hotel visit, we went for something to eat at a restaurant. The hotel was on a street that was barricaded off and closed to vehicular traffic and marked with a huge arch-shaped sign at the entrance with a name that translates loosely as &amp;quot;Istanbul Ramazan Village&amp;quot;. On this street there are lots of shops and restaurants. At 6 p.m., about 50 minutes before sunset, we sat out on the sidewalk in Ramazan village and had a bowl of lentil soup. It seemed a bit weird to me.... but apparently it wasn't.&lt;br&gt; After that, I was feeling a little bit down about the whole Istanbul Ramazan situation - I mean, shouldn't people be at least trying to support the people who are fasting, and make life easier for them? &lt;br&gt; So I got on my bus at 6:30 and headed home, feeling a bit disappointed with the first day of Ramazan. While we sat in traffic with the regular irate Istanbul drivers, the call to prayer sounded. The ticket-collecting guy (a strange, redundant job, since right next to him sits the automatic ticket machine that takes your tickets for you - but that will be in another blog) got up and walked around with a package of dates offering one to everyone on the bus. Some took them, some politely declined, me included, because I'm not fasting. But it brought a smile to my face. As I looked around in the bumper to bumper traffic, I saw people in service buses (the private shuttles that take commuters to and from work all over Istanbul) being offered tea, fruit, and sometimes sandwiches. On other city buses, passengers were being offered a variety of things. It made me smile. There's Ramazan! The ticket guy got off the bus a few minutes later with his pack of cigarettes to go get his nicotine fix. The traffic was bad enough that he was able to smoke and walk alongside the bus without a problem, and a couple of other passengers joined him - others who had taken dates. &lt;br&gt; Anyway, there it was. The first day of Ramazan in Istanbul.&lt;br&gt; &lt;br&gt; &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6638159-112853470508075769?l=insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com/feeds/112853470508075769/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6638159&amp;postID=112853470508075769&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6638159/posts/default/112853470508075769'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6638159/posts/default/112853470508075769'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com/2005/10/first-day-of-ramazan.html' title='First Day of Ramazan'/><author><name>Krisia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03746222871170523486</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://static.flickr.com/76/192953712_c8af85065a_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6638159.post-112826795504206249</id><published>2005-10-02T18:45:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2005-10-02T18:45:55.046+03:00</updated><title type='text'>Teaching English</title><content type='html'>Wow. I just came from my last class with my elementary students. It is amazing how well they are doing! I am so proud of them. Something about teaching ESL makes all of us feel almost maternal towards our students. There's something even more special about teaching a group from beginner. They walked in 5 months ago not being able to express simple concepts in English. This afternoon I had them doing a conversation exercise and they were saying things like, &amp;quot;Murat's not here. He's gone to work.&amp;quot; Dude!!!! So cool! Next week they have their final exam and in 2 weeks they will be pre-intermediate. Fortunately, I will continue teaching them through the next level. I know the day will come when I will no longer be teaching them. In fact after having them for 3 levels, the policy is that someone else has to teach them. It reminds me a lot of working in the greenhouse. You go out and collect all these cuttings of plants and they're there with no roots. You give them the stuff they need and then one day you look and they have roots! It's not like you gave them roots, they grew them on their own, but you helped them do it, and it's really cool to see them go out into the garden and grow there......&lt;br&gt; &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6638159-112826795504206249?l=insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com/feeds/112826795504206249/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6638159&amp;postID=112826795504206249&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6638159/posts/default/112826795504206249'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6638159/posts/default/112826795504206249'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com/2005/10/teaching-english.html' title='Teaching English'/><author><name>Krisia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03746222871170523486</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://static.flickr.com/76/192953712_c8af85065a_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6638159.post-112775502995342729</id><published>2005-09-26T20:17:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2005-09-26T20:17:10.003+03:00</updated><title type='text'>Google Earth Freak</title><content type='html'>I haven't blogged for months ... well weeks. A long time anyway. Part of the blame should be assumed by Google for putting out Google Earth. Between &lt;a href="http://Wikipedia.com"&gt;Wikipedia.com&lt;/a&gt; and &lt;a href="http://earth.google.com"&gt;earth.google.com&lt;/a&gt; (download Google Earth for free and have your world completely reshaped for you!) I find myself in a neverending quest for further knowledge about everything. During breaks, I come down to the teacher's room, and open google earth. I randomly pick a spot and start zooming. I found the pyramids the other day. I have marked almost every house I have ever lived in, I have gotten familiar with my environs here in Istanbul, and finally figured out why two streets that seem parallel always spit me out in the same place! Basically, Google Earth rocks. The coolest new thing I've seen is here &lt;a href="http://googleblog.blogspot.com/2005/09/illuminated-continent.html"&gt;http://googleblog.blogspot.com/2005/09/illuminated-continent.html&lt;/a&gt; It's a wonderful article about how they have linked google earth with national geographic articles about places in Africa. What drew me to it was the title &amp;quot;The Illuminated Continent&amp;quot; - something about that warms the cockles of my heart!&lt;br&gt; &lt;br&gt; But that's not the only reason I haven't been blogging. The other reason is that I haven't felt like it. When I don't feel like it, I don't blog. It's not like the blog police are out there waiting for me. Istanbul is just amazing as it was almost 6 months ago when I arrived. Each week I am happier with my choice to come here, and each paycheck I'm a tad bit closer to my goal of debt-free by my next birthday. I have many reasons to be happy to be here. &lt;br&gt; &lt;br&gt; Nesim Sisan is getting married in 2 weeks. She met a really nice Australian guy named Sohrab and they are getting married on October 8th. I'm really happy for them. About 5 or 6 months later Nesim will be moving to Australia.... I'm going to miss her. I'm working on a song with her cousin Sema and a Baha'i guitarist named Murat. Doing music stuff again reminds me of Insight and Haifa.... I really really miss that, and I'm looking forward to getting some equipment to be able to record and work together with McSkinney again...&lt;br&gt; &lt;br&gt; I have a new flatmate. I don't know if I blogged her before. She's been here almost a month... Her name's Rebecca. If I had been given a form to fill in depicting my ideal flatmate, I think Rebecca's name would have been top of the list of results. She's from Oxford and she also recently became an English teacher .She came to Istanbul because she was here before and fell in love with it. She's sooooo easy to live with, and we get along really well. We have a lot of fun together, whether it's while lying on our couches in the living room watching CSI:Miami and laughing at the cheesy lines, or hanging out in Kadikoy watching Istanbul go by. We're similar enough to understand each other, while different enough to not be irritating, and we're both pretty independent and outspoken so there's really no problems. It's great. &lt;br&gt; &lt;br&gt; My classes are going great. My weekend class which I started with from Beginner way back in May is about to do their final exam in Elementary and then they will go on to Pre-Intermediate. A couple of them have left the class because of other time commitments, but most of them are still together and there are a few newbies. We have a wonderful time together, often going out for dinner after class as well. They're advancing really well and I am so pleased when I hear them speaking together in English and explaining things and having real conversations, knowing that when they started a few months ago I had to teach them &amp;quot;Hello, my name is....&amp;quot; and the alphabet and the numbers. It's so cool! Rebecca and I were saying that it's classes like these that make you feel like a real teacher. Some of the classes you get have students with a really negative attitude, or who are there because their parents or their boss sent them. It's tough then... they don't want to talk, don't want to do homework, don't want to learn, and it sometimes spreads to the other students. Also when you have your own group from the beginning, they get used to your style of teaching and that's cool too. They know what to expect and the class runs really smoothly. Yesterday when I got to class, I was a bit hoarse from practicing the songs all weekend with Sema. My students were so concerned! They all really helped out and made sure I didn't have to talk much. It was so cool. Instead of me calling on students, they took over, and started this thing where after answering one question, they would call on another student to answer the next. It was not only nice that they did it, but that they did it out of concern for me using my voice and hurting my throat, and they organised themselves to do this in English! So cool!&lt;br&gt; &lt;br&gt; Apparently students in all of my classes have commented on my teaching. The manager mentioned it in a meeting and I was really touched that they cared enough to mention to the manager that they liked me teaching them. It makes me want to do even better! I remember in CELTA, Ian, one of our tutors, told us that every teacher wants to be loved by his or her students, and that's so true. No matter what the people in the class are like, it's really cool when they tell you that you are a good teacher and that they want you for the next level. &lt;br&gt; &lt;br&gt; Anyway, I'm going now. Google Earth calls!&lt;br&gt; &lt;br&gt; Oh, and check out my mom's pics on Flickr!!!! They are amazing!&lt;br&gt; &lt;br&gt; &lt;br&gt; &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6638159-112775502995342729?l=insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com/feeds/112775502995342729/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6638159&amp;postID=112775502995342729&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6638159/posts/default/112775502995342729'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6638159/posts/default/112775502995342729'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com/2005/09/google-earth-freak.html' title='Google Earth Freak'/><author><name>Krisia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03746222871170523486</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://static.flickr.com/76/192953712_c8af85065a_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6638159.post-112524360085707628</id><published>2005-08-28T18:40:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2005-08-28T18:40:00.890+03:00</updated><title type='text'>Modern Technology</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="mobile-post"&gt;I haven't blogged in a long time... I've had stuff to blog and no time&lt;br /&gt;to blog it. There has been something that I've recently found that is&lt;br /&gt;definitely blog-worthy. Have you seen Google Earth yet? Download it.&lt;br /&gt;Run it. It will change how you view the world, literally! It's&lt;br /&gt;basically a souped-up virtual globe... using satellite pictures of the&lt;br /&gt;places all around the world. We downloaded it in the teachers' room&lt;br /&gt;and now instead of us coming in to check e-mail, we come in to look at&lt;br /&gt;google earth. We've all put little push pins in our houses. I found&lt;br /&gt;both houses where I grew up in Bermuda, the house I stayed at in&lt;br /&gt;Spain, my flat in Istanbul.... It's so cool! Unfortunately Barbados is&lt;br /&gt;at a very low resolution so I can't find my parents. Yesterday I took&lt;br /&gt;a look at the pyramids and the sphynx. We checked out some rooftops in&lt;br /&gt;Tokyo... Oh it's crazy!!!! I got a new flatmate. So that she knows&lt;br /&gt;where she is and can find places, I'm printing a google earth map for&lt;br /&gt;her showing the area where we live, the school where we work, etc.&lt;br /&gt;It's so much better than a regular map because each building is there,&lt;br /&gt;everything is so perfect!!!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="mobile-post"&gt;The other thing that is pretty blog-worthy, but it's been around much&lt;br /&gt;longer, is Wikipedia. It's so cool! As Josh put it, "I go online and&lt;br /&gt;spend like AN HOUR just reading the ENCYCLOPEDIA! And when there's not&lt;br /&gt;much information on something, it makes me want to go and find out&lt;br /&gt;more so I can post it! I'm READING an ENCYCLOPEDIA!"&lt;br /&gt;I think that's pretty cool, moern technology that makes people want to&lt;br /&gt;read the encyclopedia, and not feel like a freak for doing so.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="mobile-post"&gt;www.wikipedia.org&lt;br /&gt;http://earth.google.com&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="mobile-post"&gt;I used to have a map of the world shower curtain. I used to read the&lt;br /&gt;encyclopedia. If I had grown up 25 years later, this stuff would have&lt;br /&gt;been cool!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6638159-112524360085707628?l=insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com/feeds/112524360085707628/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6638159&amp;postID=112524360085707628&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6638159/posts/default/112524360085707628'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6638159/posts/default/112524360085707628'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com/2005/08/modern-technology.html' title='Modern Technology'/><author><name>Krisia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03746222871170523486</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://static.flickr.com/76/192953712_c8af85065a_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6638159.post-112280435938655089</id><published>2005-07-31T13:05:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2005-07-31T13:05:59.426+03:00</updated><title type='text'>Breeze-a-Phobia</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="mobile-post"&gt;It's midsummer and the temperature is in the 30s every day. As many of&lt;br /&gt;you know, I hate the heat. I hated it during the summer months when I&lt;br /&gt;lived in Bermuda and submerged myself in the Atlantic ocean as often&lt;br /&gt;as possible to excape it. I hated it when I was living in the&lt;br /&gt;Caribbean and it was all year round, either a dry, dusty, fly-ridden&lt;br /&gt;heat, or a wet, muggy, mosquito-laden heat - but heat, every day of&lt;br /&gt;every month. In Israel I convinced myself that it was all worth it&lt;br /&gt;because I was in the proximity of the holiest places on earth, but the&lt;br /&gt;heat there for much of the year was unbearable as well. I managed to&lt;br /&gt;survive by dousing myself with cold water every 15 minutes or so while&lt;br /&gt;I was at work in the greenhouse, and the rest of the time trying to be&lt;br /&gt;in as many air-conditioned places as possible. Now I'm in Istanbul.&lt;br /&gt;Fortunately, all the classrooms and the offices and the teachers' room&lt;br /&gt;are air-conditioned. Unfortunately, the air-conditioner in the&lt;br /&gt;teachers' room has given up and blows smelly lukewarm air (from&lt;br /&gt;lord-knows-where) around the room. The school is in the middle of the&lt;br /&gt;city, so it's not like there's a lot of open space and breeze. The&lt;br /&gt;windows that do open, open out over the noisy street, or into a weird&lt;br /&gt;closed shaft between our building and the next (the bathroom windows&lt;br /&gt;also open out into that shaft, and the air-conditioners vent their hot&lt;br /&gt;air into it making it not such a good idea to open those windows).&lt;br /&gt;It's not really a problem though, beacause I go into the classroom&lt;br /&gt;with my handy remote control, and set it up to cool me down. Then the&lt;br /&gt;students arrive. Invariably, someone will walk into the room and make&lt;br /&gt;a signal as though they have arrived at the north pole in February&lt;br /&gt;wearing a bikini. In my quest to be an effective English teacher, I&lt;br /&gt;don't accept the little charades as acceptable communication and make&lt;br /&gt;them express their thoughts in English. Responses range from "Here&lt;br /&gt;very cold" to "Can you turn off the air conditioner please" and&lt;br /&gt;everything in between. At first, as an inexperienced teacher, trying&lt;br /&gt;to please my students, I used to capitulate and let one of them be the&lt;br /&gt;air-conditioner remote controller. In one class it got ridiculous,&lt;br /&gt;when the person with the remote would turn it on, someone would&lt;br /&gt;complain, they would turn it off, someone else would complain, or I&lt;br /&gt;would start sweating, and they'd turn it back on... this continued at&lt;br /&gt;a frequency of about 7 or 8 times an hour. And the air conditioner&lt;br /&gt;makes a beeping sound whenever you press the remote. That system&lt;br /&gt;lasted a day.&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, at some point I realised that the problem isn't just the a/c.&lt;br /&gt;Turks don't like anything blowing. It's as if moving air is something&lt;br /&gt;to be avoided at all costs. Hence, the same problem occurs in a&lt;br /&gt;crowded minibus. You sit down and a million people crowd in, and the 2&lt;br /&gt;windows that can open on the whole bus are only opened to about 2&lt;br /&gt;inches. If we go onto the highway, they are closed completely. It's&lt;br /&gt;crazy! Taxi drivers also express their displeasure when I open the&lt;br /&gt;window, but in that case I can just pretend I don't understand....&lt;br /&gt;So it's hot. I'm hot. Luckily my flat is cool and breezy. I can't&lt;br /&gt;invite my students over on a hot day though, they'll probably go&lt;br /&gt;around closing the windows and saying that they will get sick. Dude,&lt;br /&gt;what would they do if they knew that I sleep with a fan on me on high!&lt;br /&gt;When it gets really unbearable, I dampen a sarong and wring it out,&lt;br /&gt;then drape it over me. Breeze and water - enough to kill a Turk!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6638159-112280435938655089?l=insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com/feeds/112280435938655089/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6638159&amp;postID=112280435938655089&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6638159/posts/default/112280435938655089'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6638159/posts/default/112280435938655089'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com/2005/07/breeze-phobia.html' title='Breeze-a-Phobia'/><author><name>Krisia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03746222871170523486</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://static.flickr.com/76/192953712_c8af85065a_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6638159.post-112257416106302208</id><published>2005-07-28T21:09:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2005-07-28T21:09:21.156+03:00</updated><title type='text'>it's been a while!</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="mobile-post"&gt;I'm here having a ten minute break. For each hour of class that we&lt;br /&gt;have, we actually teach for only 50 minutes then have a ten minute&lt;br /&gt;break. So a 3- or 4-hour class that starts on the hour actually&lt;br /&gt;finishes at 10 to. Somehow, by some freak of scheduling, I am now&lt;br /&gt;teaching 3 Pre-Intermediate classes, and one elementary, plus an&lt;br /&gt;intermediate private student. 2 of the pre-int classes are at about&lt;br /&gt;the same polace in the book. At first I thought it would make my life&lt;br /&gt;easier, plan once, teach twice.... however, with my sucky memory I&lt;br /&gt;seem to be forgetting whom I've taught what to. Hehehe I said whom. I&lt;br /&gt;like saying whom. I don't use it with my students though, the pre-ints&lt;br /&gt;and elementaries don't know about that yet. too much at once and they&lt;br /&gt;could self-destruct!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="mobile-post"&gt;But anyway, I feel like I've always been here. There is no longer&lt;br /&gt;anything unfamiliar about the place. My flat is homey - I'm living&lt;br /&gt;alone right now which is really nice. My neighbours are friendly, the&lt;br /&gt;men in the shops at the corner know me. The mussel-man in the street&lt;br /&gt;said I can pay anytime I want. I haven't taken advantage of his easy&lt;br /&gt;credit system yet, but it's nice to know it's there. I don't have to&lt;br /&gt;keep loose change for mussels if I don't want to. my students are (for&lt;br /&gt;the most part) really sweet and nice, and most of them are good&lt;br /&gt;students as well. The weather is getting hot, but my flat is cool and&lt;br /&gt;breezy all the time. Something to do with the oasis outside the window&lt;br /&gt;I guess, and the uninterrupted plain beyond it. At school the&lt;br /&gt;classrooms are air-conditioned and I've managed to find the exact&lt;br /&gt;setting that pre-empts the shivering motions and requests to turn off&lt;br /&gt;the a.c., while still keeping me cool and collected. Incidentally,&lt;br /&gt;most people don't seem to understand the concept of a thermostat. I&lt;br /&gt;used to have the setting at 23 degrees celsius, that's a good 3&lt;br /&gt;degrees above comfortable room temperature. After a few minutes,&lt;br /&gt;everyone would complain that it was too cold. Geesh. I realise that at&lt;br /&gt;24, it cuts off at just the moment they are about to complain that&lt;br /&gt;it's too cold (in fact, sometimes they try, but by the time I make&lt;br /&gt;them ask me to turn it off politely in proper English, it cuts out :o)&lt;br /&gt;and at the moment when a bead of sweat is forming on my forehead (and&lt;br /&gt;theirs) it cuts in. Turks are breeze-a-phobics. I'll explain this&lt;br /&gt;later.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6638159-112257416106302208?l=insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com/feeds/112257416106302208/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6638159&amp;postID=112257416106302208&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6638159/posts/default/112257416106302208'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6638159/posts/default/112257416106302208'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com/2005/07/its-been-while.html' title='it&apos;s been a while!'/><author><name>Krisia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03746222871170523486</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://static.flickr.com/76/192953712_c8af85065a_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6638159.post-112081916834820932</id><published>2005-07-08T13:38:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2005-07-08T14:00:17.183+03:00</updated><title type='text'>Midye Dolmasi</title><content type='html'>I know I've mentioned before that I like Turkish food. There is one thing that I like more than anything else. This food is the cause of much discussion among locals and foreigners alike.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Midye Dolması&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Midye - mussels&lt;br /&gt;dolma - stuffed&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I don't know exactly how they do it, but the end result is what looks like a closed mussel. In fact the meat inside has been cooked with spicy seasoned rice. I think they use red hot pepper and cinnamon. There's not a lot of pepper, you can still taste all of the flavours. So when you buy midye dolma, the vendor guy opens the shell, and uses one half of the shell to scrape any rice and mussel that may be stuck to the other side, and squeezes lemon over it. So what you get is a half shell containing a mouthful of rice and seafood. If you think it sounds delicious, you're right! What's more, the price is great. Usually they have a tray with 2 or 3 different sizes for different prices. I've seen the smallest for 200 000 turkish lira (which is 0.20 New Turkish Lira), which is somewhere near15 cents US. There are also some for 250 000, 300 000 and sometimes 400 000 and 500 000 (about 40 cents  in US money).The price is right and it's a delicious meal! So what's the fuss about? Well, this isn't something you buy in a restaurant. It's readily available everywhere and it's street food. The guys who sell it appear out of nowhere with a tray. They set up shop, open the midye, serve it to you and collect your money and you eat while standing on the sidewalk with traffic going by. There's a lot of them too. Apparently, in one guide book, they have been referred to as "gastroenteritis time bombs" (although, I'm inclined to believe that might be the Fodor's Guide (a.k.a. the Fogies' Guide, which also tells you where the best bingo halls in any given city are!). So, you may wonder, why I venture to eat street food that could possibly cause gastric upset... well the thing is, I was first introduced to midye dolma by my friend Tolga, back in 1991 when we were at the summer house. We used to spend the day on the beach, and a guy would come by in the afternoon selling midye dolma out of the back of the truck. Everyone and their parents and sister would come running out to buy them and eat their fill. There was never any mention of gastro or any other disease. In fact, the midye dolma truck was more popular than the ice cream truck among the kids! It's one of those flavours you remember forever. for a month I ate large quantities of this stuff daily and never got sick. Neither did anyone I know. In fact I've never known anyone to get sick eating it. So when I came back here and saw them, dude! Dig in! I was here last year with Lyndsay and Aida and Veronica and we had some in Taksim. They all loved it too - oh yeah, there's also deep fried midye, but that's greasy and fattening.&lt;br /&gt;The other teachers who have tried midye dolma are all as addicted to it as I am. we all agree that the flavour and enjoyment one gets from eating them far outweighs the hypothetical risk of gastroenteritis. They're that good. Those who haven't tried it, however, are adamant that the thought of eating them is absolutely disgusting and that they will never in a million years try one.&lt;br /&gt;So that makes me wonder - how do people actually try them? I found out the other night. Josh insisted that he would never try it. He and Mark and I were walking home one night, and we passed my midye guy (yeah, I have a guy I buy from frequently). I was like "who's having one with me?" Josh was about to say yes, but Mark talked him out of it.... It's only a matter of time now! Ha!&lt;br /&gt;The locals have a different problem. Apparently, Muslims don't eat the meat of mensturating female animals. Apparently, according to them, female mussels menstruate. Because one can't tell the difference between a female mussel and a male mussel, there is a chance that the one you eat may have been a menstruating female before being cooked to death, and so people with stronger religious inclinations (not a large portion of the population) don't eat them. I find the idea of a female mussel having a period absolutely fascinating and a bit off the wall. I'm going to check it out now... maybe after I have some midye dolma....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6638159-112081916834820932?l=insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com/feeds/112081916834820932/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6638159&amp;postID=112081916834820932&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6638159/posts/default/112081916834820932'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6638159/posts/default/112081916834820932'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com/2005/07/midye-dolmasi.html' title='Midye Dolmasi'/><author><name>Krisia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03746222871170523486</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://static.flickr.com/76/192953712_c8af85065a_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6638159.post-112081816868013870</id><published>2005-07-08T13:20:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2005-07-08T13:38:13.360+03:00</updated><title type='text'>Every now and then...</title><content type='html'>I haven't blogged for a while. Sometimes it comes down to either living life or blogging it, and recently it's been more about living than blogging. That said, it's also nice to sit down and type a bit now and then as well, otherwise the days fly by and all meld into one. There are so many times when I'm doing something and I think "I should blog that" and all I remember when I'm sitting here in front of the computer is that I've said "I should blog that" about 15 times in the past 2 weeks. Oh well!&lt;br /&gt;The biggest thing and the thing that is occupying all my mental space right now is the fact that Violetta's coming to visit on Sunday. She came to Spain in February at a time when we were both at a bad point for the visit, and although it was nice having her there, it was hard because she was sick most of the time. It didn't help that she couldn't stay with me and I was packing and getting ready for the course in Barcelona, and I lost my wallet and my cellphone and the weather was awful.... Anyway, she arrives on Sunday afternoon and she will be staying at my flat. She will be my second houseguest (Chris Mazloomi got fisrst dibs on his last night in Istanbul). It's so nice to be living somewhere where I don't have to ask permission for houseguests, I have extra keys, everything is mine (well, kinda mine). We're going to Edirne on Monday, and in my free time next week, I'm taking her to my favourite places in Istanbul. While I'm working, she'll be able to visit my non-favourite places that she wants to see. I'm guessing she'll want to see Topkapi Palace and some other historical places. Maybe a museum or two. I'd like to go with her to the Whirling Dervish museum, but I have to find out when they do the actual whirling....&lt;br /&gt;Other things in my life - teaching. I have really settled into it. I'm happy teaching. It has its strange days, like last Thursday when my Pre-Intermediate morning class spent the whole last hour looking at me with blank stares. And then there are the times when people just say things, and they're hilarious! I'm getting used to the different textbooks, personalising the activities, doing different review games, etc. It's really interesting. My flatmate Lydia is gone. I'm expecting a new flatmate at pretty much any moment. That'll be interesting.&lt;br /&gt;One of the things that's really tough on me is that with my schedule, I work almost every night. It means that I don't have the opportunity to take part in any study circles. There is one that I was invited to on Wednesday nights, which was perfect because I had Mondays and Wednesdays off, but now that Lydia's gone, our schedules changed, and I'm working 6-day weeks and they took my Wednesday nights.... Ugh! It's only temporary but still disappointing. Lucky for me, activity starts pretty late at night in the Baha'i community. In order to make sure people show up for feast, they have dinner first. That means that I can usually get there after teaching.&lt;br /&gt;I know I've said this before, but I'm really happy here. I like Turkey much more than Spain. All my Spanish friends will hate me for that comment but it's true. I think I'm better suited to it. I'd love for my family to come visit me, and more friends to come, but that will come as people get used to the fact that I'm here.&lt;br /&gt;My neighbours are fun. There are lots and lots of kids in the neighbourhood, and those who speak any English at all like to try it out on me as I walk to and from home or one of the 2 corner stores. Now it's become commonplace for me to hear a little voice calling out "Kris abla!" and a tiny hand waving from a window or balcony or sidewalk as I walk by. Abla means older sister so that's cool. I feel at home.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6638159-112081816868013870?l=insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com/feeds/112081816868013870/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6638159&amp;postID=112081816868013870&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6638159/posts/default/112081816868013870'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6638159/posts/default/112081816868013870'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com/2005/07/every-now-and-then.html' title='Every now and then...'/><author><name>Krisia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03746222871170523486</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://static.flickr.com/76/192953712_c8af85065a_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6638159.post-111935533060331974</id><published>2005-06-21T14:53:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2005-06-21T15:02:10.610+03:00</updated><title type='text'>Friday Night - Cuma Akşam</title><content type='html'>I went to dinner with Josh and some of his Elementary students on Friday night. I promised them I would post the pictures here, so here they are! Click on this pic and you can see the rest of them on Flickr.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a title="Photo Sharing" href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/krisia/20679629/"&gt;&lt;img height="480" alt="DSCF0037" src="http://photos15.flickr.com/20679629_f0b9f076f2.jpg" width="500" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Resimler burda! Resime tıkla ötekileri görebilirsin&lt;/strong&gt;.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6638159-111935533060331974?l=insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com/feeds/111935533060331974/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6638159&amp;postID=111935533060331974&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6638159/posts/default/111935533060331974'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6638159/posts/default/111935533060331974'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com/2005/06/friday-night-cuma-akam.html' title='Friday Night - Cuma Akşam'/><author><name>Krisia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03746222871170523486</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://static.flickr.com/76/192953712_c8af85065a_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6638159.post-111840589604644292</id><published>2005-06-10T15:18:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2005-06-10T15:18:16.090+03:00</updated><title type='text'>Rubbish Cart Men</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="mobile-post"&gt;I just asked the people in the teachers' room "What's interesting&lt;br /&gt;about being in Turkey?" First answer was the rubbish cart men. What&lt;br /&gt;are the rubbish cart men? These are random guys, who walk around the&lt;br /&gt;city going through the dumpsters and collecting stuff. I know, most&lt;br /&gt;cities have the equivalent, but here it's a bit different. Upon&lt;br /&gt;further discussion, we've determined that there are actually two&lt;br /&gt;types. There's the old junk man, who collects literally anything -&lt;br /&gt;pieces of wood, wire, metal, old light switches, and other random&lt;br /&gt;stuff. His cart is more like a table with big wheels, and it appears&lt;br /&gt;that all his stuff is for resale. He also walks down the street&lt;br /&gt;shouting "ESKIJI!", somehow managing to make that word into 6 or 7&lt;br /&gt;syllables. I guess at that point people would go outside with their&lt;br /&gt;old stuff and give (sell?) it to him. Eskici (pronounced es-kee-jee)&lt;br /&gt;means "old-stuff man" literally. In Turkish you add ci (jee) to the&lt;br /&gt;end of stuff to mean "the person who sells/makes", So "dondurma" is&lt;br /&gt;ice cream, and you go to a dondurmaci to buy it. Ekmek is bread and&lt;br /&gt;the ekmekci sells it. Those of us here who speak English, quickly&lt;br /&gt;adopt this convention and we start talking about people like the&lt;br /&gt;juice-ci who sells fresh squeezed orange juice, and the telephone-ci&lt;br /&gt;who will help you with a sim card for your cellphone....&lt;br /&gt;Anyway the other rubbish cart men are the ones who go through the&lt;br /&gt;dumpsters removing recyclables. Ok, so in most places you sort the&lt;br /&gt;trash BEFORE you put it in the dumpster. Here there are guys with huge&lt;br /&gt;bags, like the kind they use at sugar factories that hold a metric ton&lt;br /&gt;of sugar (which we used in Israel for the equvalent amount of potting&lt;br /&gt;mix), somehow attached to a dolly so it can be pushed around. I think&lt;br /&gt;there are different categories, one guy who collects cardboard,&lt;br /&gt;another plastic bottles, another glass. They are all over the place. I&lt;br /&gt;think if the separate dumpsters concept were introduced here, a lot of&lt;br /&gt;recycle-cis would be out of work!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6638159-111840589604644292?l=insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com/feeds/111840589604644292/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6638159&amp;postID=111840589604644292&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6638159/posts/default/111840589604644292'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6638159/posts/default/111840589604644292'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com/2005/06/rubbish-cart-men.html' title='Rubbish Cart Men'/><author><name>Krisia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03746222871170523486</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://static.flickr.com/76/192953712_c8af85065a_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6638159.post-111771922828058395</id><published>2005-06-02T16:33:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2005-06-02T16:33:48.283+03:00</updated><title type='text'>The grainiest photo ever.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="flickrEmailPost"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/krisia/17063829/" title="The grainiest photo ever."&gt;&lt;img src="http://photos11.flickr.com/17063829_c74569760c_m.jpg" alt="The grainiest photo ever." class="flickrEmailImage" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;p&gt;At the end of the beginner course, one of the students took some pics.&lt;br /&gt;I was surprised to see a camera that had film! It's been a while. Even&lt;br /&gt;more startling was that it needed to be wound after each pic. When was&lt;br /&gt;the last time I have seen one of those!!! Geesh. The result, the&lt;br /&gt;grainiest photo ever! I won't bother to name the people, you can't see&lt;br /&gt;them anyway. I'm the black one! ;o)&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6638159-111771922828058395?l=insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com/feeds/111771922828058395/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6638159&amp;postID=111771922828058395&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6638159/posts/default/111771922828058395'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6638159/posts/default/111771922828058395'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com/2005/06/grainiest-photo-ever.html' title='The grainiest photo ever.'/><author><name>Krisia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03746222871170523486</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://static.flickr.com/76/192953712_c8af85065a_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6638159.post-111771656571515531</id><published>2005-06-02T15:49:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2005-06-02T15:49:25.760+03:00</updated><title type='text'>Changing Schedule</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="mobile-post"&gt;My schedule changed this week. One of the teachers had a death in the&lt;br /&gt;family and had to return to the US. Two new teachers joined us,&lt;br /&gt;another put in her notice. Sum total of all this change is that my&lt;br /&gt;schedule is completely different. OK, not completely. Fortunately, I&lt;br /&gt;still have my weekend afternoon Elementary class, my favourites. Did I&lt;br /&gt;mention that they all passed their end of beginner exam with flying&lt;br /&gt;colours? Only 2 students (of 13 who took the exam) got under 85%, and&lt;br /&gt;the majority got over 95%. Impressive? I think so. I was so proud of&lt;br /&gt;them!!!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="mobile-post"&gt;So now, I still have Mondays and Wednesdays off. Tuesdays I teach for&lt;br /&gt;only 2 hours! That means that in 3 days, I only teach a total of 2&lt;br /&gt;hours. I like that! I'm considering Tuesday as my planning day, so I&lt;br /&gt;can plan my classes for the week and get ready. Because I teach so few&lt;br /&gt;hours in 3 days, it means that all the other 25 or so hours are&lt;br /&gt;condensed into 4 days. Pretty hectic. But cool. I have 2 company&lt;br /&gt;classes now. So I take a minibus to the company and teach them. They&lt;br /&gt;are both in a place called Umraniye, about 30 minutes away from the&lt;br /&gt;school. One company is a communications network company. They have a&lt;br /&gt;couple of months a year when they don't work (although I don't know&lt;br /&gt;why this is) and instead they do English classes every morning. I'm&lt;br /&gt;sharing this class with another teacher, Eda. I had them for the first&lt;br /&gt;time today, and they seem really nice. Since the job is paying for the&lt;br /&gt;class, and they have nothing else to do during that time, their&lt;br /&gt;attendance is really good, and they really work hard. That's nice to&lt;br /&gt;deal with. The other company does something else, I'm not sure what, I&lt;br /&gt;believe it's something to do with medical equipment. Maybe as a&lt;br /&gt;speaking exercise I can get them to tell me what the company does!&lt;br /&gt;They are also really nice and Intermediate students. So that's cool&lt;br /&gt;because I can plan once, and since one company is a couple of weeks&lt;br /&gt;behind the other in the material, I can use the same lesson plan for&lt;br /&gt;the other in a couple of weeks. I also have an Intermediate private&lt;br /&gt;student on weekend mornings. I will meet her on Saturday for the first&lt;br /&gt;time.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="mobile-post"&gt;The other class I have is a PreIntermediate class on Friday evenings.&lt;br /&gt;I taught them their first 2 classes, while my flatmate, Lydia, was out&lt;br /&gt;sick. Apparently, one of the students (rather tactlessly) suggested to&lt;br /&gt;Lydia that she teach my class (at the time I had 2 private advanced&lt;br /&gt;students) and I teach hers. Oops. I think they like me a lot. Lydia&lt;br /&gt;was kind of upset about that for a while, and it didn't help to find&lt;br /&gt;out that she would be teaching them Mondays and Wednesdays and I have&lt;br /&gt;them on Fridays!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="mobile-post"&gt;On the home front things are going well. Lydia and I have settled into&lt;br /&gt;our new flat. I'm getting to know the neighbourhood. There is a small&lt;br /&gt;group of boys who play in the street every day. They like talking to&lt;br /&gt;me and have started calling me "abla" which means big sister. One&lt;br /&gt;asked me yesterday what my name is and I told him Kris, so now when I&lt;br /&gt;leave home they all say "Hello Kris Abla! How are you?" In Turkish of&lt;br /&gt;course! It's so cute. They're between about 7 and 10 years old. The&lt;br /&gt;man in the shop on the corner is also very friendly, as are the&lt;br /&gt;neighbours. I make sure and say hello to everyone. There is one old&lt;br /&gt;lady who gets on my nerves though, every time she sees me, she calls&lt;br /&gt;to the kids in the next lane to come and look at me. As if I don't get&lt;br /&gt;stared at enough already! geesh! She means well though, and told me&lt;br /&gt;the other day that I was very cute and had a nice smile - maybe&lt;br /&gt;because I was purposely not smiling at the time? hmmm.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="mobile-post"&gt;I've been exploring the neighbourhood. We live on a small road&lt;br /&gt;parallel to the main road. There are about 4 apartment buildings on&lt;br /&gt;each side of the street, and thw two roads at each end intersect ours&lt;br /&gt;perpendicularly, forming and H shape, with our street being the short&lt;br /&gt;cross line. At each end of the street we have a small grocery store,&lt;br /&gt;and since we are just about in the middle, they are both about 25&lt;br /&gt;seconds' walk away. Very convenient! At the top of the road on the&lt;br /&gt;left, there is a university, high school and primary school. Because&lt;br /&gt;of the university, there are also a lot of cafes and restaurants. But&lt;br /&gt;to get there, it's a short walk up a very steep hill. At the bottom of&lt;br /&gt;said hill there is a mosque. From the living room balcony there's a&lt;br /&gt;great view of its only minaret. Luckily the volume on the loudspeaker&lt;br /&gt;system is not overly loud, like many I've heard, so the call to prayer&lt;br /&gt;is more pleasant than disruptive. However, I've noticed that all the&lt;br /&gt;dogs in the neighbourhood howl during the prayers. It's kind of like&lt;br /&gt;they are singing along. Kind of funny in a very irreverent way! It&lt;br /&gt;freaks Lydia out a bit....&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="mobile-post"&gt;The weather is warming up. I've never been one who is anxious for&lt;br /&gt;summer to come, though so this isn't huge news for me. I wish it could&lt;br /&gt;stay like it is now, about 24 or so during the day, dropping to the&lt;br /&gt;mid to upper teens at night. Is there anywhere that is like that all&lt;br /&gt;year round? Nothing compares to Hamsin in Haifa though! Dude! I don't&lt;br /&gt;miss that at all!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6638159-111771656571515531?l=insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com/feeds/111771656571515531/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6638159&amp;postID=111771656571515531&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6638159/posts/default/111771656571515531'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6638159/posts/default/111771656571515531'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com/2005/06/changing-schedule.html' title='Changing Schedule'/><author><name>Krisia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03746222871170523486</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://static.flickr.com/76/192953712_c8af85065a_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6638159.post-111708761730214423</id><published>2005-05-26T09:06:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2005-05-26T09:06:57.350+03:00</updated><title type='text'>We've Moved!!!</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="mobile-post"&gt;I think I have mentioned at some point that we were moved from the As&lt;br /&gt;Hotel about a month ago to a tiny little flat 10 minutes' walk from&lt;br /&gt;school. Since that fateful day, Lydia and I have been dreading the end&lt;br /&gt;of the teaching day when we had to return to the flat. It was tiny,&lt;br /&gt;and I really mean miniscule. The kitchen could not fir 2 people at the&lt;br /&gt;same time - not like small kitchens where if there are 2 people in&lt;br /&gt;them they are constantly bumping into each other and trying to get&lt;br /&gt;past one another. This is a different category of small. There was not&lt;br /&gt;enough floor space in the kitchen for 2 people to stand in it at the&lt;br /&gt;same time!!! The refrigerator was out on the balcony. Someone trying&lt;br /&gt;to cook in the miniscule kitchen would have to walk past the oversized&lt;br /&gt;dining table (as in, if you put the chairs at the table, you couldn't&lt;br /&gt;walk by), through the cluttered living area (a couch, a love seat, 2&lt;br /&gt;armchairs in a 3 square metre area) open the balcony door (the word&lt;br /&gt;"balcony" being used here because I don't know if there is a word for&lt;br /&gt;the 1 by 2 metre space enclosed on 2 sides by windows overlooking the&lt;br /&gt;neighbours' balconies), go out onto the balcony (because the&lt;br /&gt;refrigerator door opened towards the living room and so you had to go&lt;br /&gt;out onto the balcony itself to open it) and get their stuff from the&lt;br /&gt;fridge. This wasn't a long walk, as the apartment was tiny, however,&lt;br /&gt;the various obstructions of the furniturial kind made it quite a feat.&lt;br /&gt;The kitchen and the layout of the flat were paltry problems when&lt;br /&gt;compared to the bedroom situation. As you may know, I was sharing the&lt;br /&gt;flat with another teacher, Lydia, a delightful Irish lass. We get&lt;br /&gt;along well, which is a very good thing, since our "bedrooms" were&lt;br /&gt;separated by a window that runs the length of the room. The window had&lt;br /&gt;3 ill-fitting glass panels, the middle one supposedly sliding on a&lt;br /&gt;poorly-designed wooden track if you wanted it open. The result was&lt;br /&gt;that because of the poor alignment of the glass and the badly warped&lt;br /&gt;wood, the glass pieces didn't actually touch each other, except to&lt;br /&gt;rattle annoyingly whenever anyone in the building opened or closed a&lt;br /&gt;door, and more so whenever a door in the flat was opened or closed.&lt;br /&gt;The window was high off the floor, and we're both about 5'3" so&lt;br /&gt;fortunately we couldn't see into one another's rooms, but volume-wise&lt;br /&gt;it was as if we were sharing a room.&lt;br /&gt;Why did my bedroom have a window to the next bedroom? What was the&lt;br /&gt;reason for this bizarre design? Ventilation. That window was the only&lt;br /&gt;window in my room. There was no light from anywhere else. If you&lt;br /&gt;managed to slide open the window without cutting your hand on the&lt;br /&gt;glass, there was a one square foot space through which air could enter&lt;br /&gt;the room. Not fresh air from outside. Not a breeze. But if you waved&lt;br /&gt;the bedroom door in and out, you could get the air in the room moving.&lt;br /&gt;That window was also the only source of natural light. My room was a&lt;br /&gt;windowless, airless box.&lt;br /&gt;The other bedroom was not designed as a bedroom. It was a sort of&lt;br /&gt;sunroom. In fact it was so not a bedroom that it didn't have a bed. An&lt;br /&gt;uncomfortable folding couch, yes, bed no. It also had no place to&lt;br /&gt;unpack and store anything. When we arrived, it was a small sitting&lt;br /&gt;room, with the couch, an armchair from the living room, 2 dining room&lt;br /&gt;chairs, a round living room table, a set of 3 small square tables, and&lt;br /&gt;a huge display cabinet filled with dishes. If this sounds like a lot&lt;br /&gt;of furniture for one small room, it is. We moved out the chairs,&lt;br /&gt;squeezing the armchair into the already crowded living area, stacking&lt;br /&gt;the dining chairs out on the balcony next to the fridge, moving the&lt;br /&gt;round table (along with the other 2 that were in the other bedroom&lt;br /&gt;making it impossible to move) to a storage area above the bedroom&lt;br /&gt;window, and putting the small tables to use elsewhere in the flat. It&lt;br /&gt;was insane. What was left was a sofa bed, and the cabinet with plates&lt;br /&gt;and stuff in it. The room had a lot of light (as opposed to the box&lt;br /&gt;next door), but nowhere to put anything. No clothes could be unpacked&lt;br /&gt;or hung up. Basically, the person in that room had to live out of a&lt;br /&gt;suitcase.&lt;br /&gt;I'm not going to describe the bathroom. The apartment was a hellish&lt;br /&gt;experience and to go talk about the worst part of it would just take&lt;br /&gt;me back there. It was bad.&lt;br /&gt;So anyway, sometime last month not long after moving in, after&lt;br /&gt;explaining to the manager that our accomodation was unsuitable and a&lt;br /&gt;long, involved discussion about what exactly qualified as suitable,&lt;br /&gt;and also a few thoughts on what I thought about the fact that he put&lt;br /&gt;us in this place, we were told that we would be moving out and that&lt;br /&gt;they would use that flat for a couple.&lt;br /&gt;The couple just moved in yesterday, and we moved out. The apartment&lt;br /&gt;we've been moved to is WAY better. It's definitely up to standard and&lt;br /&gt;is about what I expected when we first moved. Comfortable, airy,&lt;br /&gt;bright, spacious - it's great! There's also 2 sofa beds for guests!&lt;br /&gt;The sofa beds are double beds. So all you potential houseguests, Lydia&lt;br /&gt;and I have agreed that houseguests are a good thing :o) Let me know&lt;br /&gt;when you're coming!&lt;br /&gt;We also have a balcony that overlooks a garden. It looks like all the&lt;br /&gt;people on the ground floor of the buildings in the vicinity have&lt;br /&gt;access to backyard space that they've used to grow flowers and things.&lt;br /&gt;In addition, there seems to be an empty plot that someone is using to&lt;br /&gt;grow vegetables and things. The flat is on a bit of a rise and we are&lt;br /&gt;on the top floor, so we have a view over the neighbours' buildings to&lt;br /&gt;distant areas and in the distance we can see mountains! There's a&lt;br /&gt;mosque at the bottom of the street, a really cheap grocery store at&lt;br /&gt;the end of the road, and a bus stop about a minute from the house.&lt;br /&gt;It's a 25-minute walk to school (or a 7-minute bus ride or a $2.50&lt;br /&gt;taxi ride if we're really late).&lt;br /&gt;It's very nice.&lt;br /&gt;We're happy :o)&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6638159-111708761730214423?l=insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com/feeds/111708761730214423/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6638159&amp;postID=111708761730214423&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6638159/posts/default/111708761730214423'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6638159/posts/default/111708761730214423'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com/2005/05/weve-moved.html' title='We&apos;ve Moved!!!'/><author><name>Krisia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03746222871170523486</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://static.flickr.com/76/192953712_c8af85065a_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6638159.post-111695002937330983</id><published>2005-05-24T18:53:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2005-05-24T18:53:49.380+03:00</updated><title type='text'>A Funny Thing Happened on the Way Home From the Baklavaci...</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="mobile-post"&gt;Many nights I finish work late. Classes finish at 10 p.m. and then I&lt;br /&gt;walk home. Of course, in Spain, 10 p.m. wasn't late, but Istanbul is&lt;br /&gt;kinda normal in that respect. My way home is very safe, well-populated&lt;br /&gt;and well-lit, so don't worry mom! About 75% of the walk is through a&lt;br /&gt;pedestrian street with lots of shops and restaurants at closing time.&lt;br /&gt;Along the same street is a baklavaci, a dessert shop (And again mom,&lt;br /&gt;don't worry, I'm not pigging out on baklava either). This place also&lt;br /&gt;sells "chee kofte" which is a Turkish specialty that a lot of&lt;br /&gt;unsuspecting foreigners have tried (and enjoyed) before finding out&lt;br /&gt;that it is actually raw meat ground finely and heavily seasoned, then&lt;br /&gt;shaped by hand into little lumpy things roughly the size of a large&lt;br /&gt;meatball but then squeezed in the hand so that it is elongated and has&lt;br /&gt;the imprints of the fingers in it... kinda bizarre. More bizarre is&lt;br /&gt;the fact that it is often sold in the same place as desserts and&lt;br /&gt;sweets... raw meat and baklava please!&lt;br /&gt;So anyway, the baklava place is one of the few places in the street&lt;br /&gt;that is not closing up when I pass at about 10:20. As a result, the&lt;br /&gt;guys who work there are usually hanging out watching people go by, me&lt;br /&gt;included. So over the past few weeks they've invited me in a few times&lt;br /&gt;for tea and chat. This is not out of the ordinary, in fact it's a&lt;br /&gt;normal turkish thing.&lt;br /&gt;Last night I was walking by and decided to get some tulumba for my&lt;br /&gt;flatmate and I. I was in the shop chatting with the guy, and he was&lt;br /&gt;asking about what I do. He is kinda new so didn't know all the&lt;br /&gt;details. So I told him I'm an English teacher and he asked me if I&lt;br /&gt;know Ryan. There's no Ryan at Interlang  so I asked him where Ryan&lt;br /&gt;teachers. He points out the window in the direction of an English&lt;br /&gt;school that was about a block away. As he points and I look, a guy&lt;br /&gt;walks past the window. The baklava guy says "Hey! Ryan!" and invites&lt;br /&gt;him in. Coincidentally, the very second that baklava guy was asking me&lt;br /&gt;if i know this guy (whom I didn't know), the very same guy walked by&lt;br /&gt;the shop! Baklava guy bustles us in, hands us little pieces of&lt;br /&gt;complimentary baklava, bustles us to one of the 2 tables in the place&lt;br /&gt;(it's tiny) and sits us down to chat with each other while he went to&lt;br /&gt;serve customers that had just come in. It was hilarious! We were like&lt;br /&gt;"I guess we're supposed to meet and make conversation now!" Ryan from&lt;br /&gt;Toronto, and his friend Dallas, who is visiting from Montreal were&lt;br /&gt;really nice. Dallas went to McGill - how cool is that :o) She's&lt;br /&gt;thinking of coming here in September to teach.&lt;br /&gt;As it turns out, Ryan and I live about 5 or 6 buildings away from each&lt;br /&gt;other! We exchanged phone numbers and plan to keep in touch.&lt;br /&gt;What's really funny, is that I just told Josh and Kris this story in&lt;br /&gt;the staff room and when I said that the baklava guy asked if I know&lt;br /&gt;Ryan, Kris said, I know Ryan. It turns out him and Dallas have visited&lt;br /&gt;Kris's flat, because Ryan's a good friend of Kris's flatmate.&lt;br /&gt;Geesh. Small world!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6638159-111695002937330983?l=insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com/feeds/111695002937330983/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6638159&amp;postID=111695002937330983&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6638159/posts/default/111695002937330983'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6638159/posts/default/111695002937330983'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com/2005/05/funny-thing-happened-on-way-home-from.html' title='A Funny Thing Happened on the Way Home From the Baklavaci...'/><author><name>Krisia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03746222871170523486</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://static.flickr.com/76/192953712_c8af85065a_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6638159.post-111640018299419977</id><published>2005-05-18T10:09:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2005-05-18T10:09:43.030+03:00</updated><title type='text'>Being Different</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="mobile-post"&gt;Istanbul is different. It's different from any place I've ever been in&lt;br /&gt;and everyone else who I've spoken to about it agrees. Turkey was a&lt;br /&gt;place very similar in culture and customs to most of the Middle East.&lt;br /&gt;Then Mustafa Kemal Ataturk came along and changed everything. The&lt;br /&gt;script, the laws, the way people dress, the way women are treated....&lt;br /&gt;Everything. A top-down revolution. So what does that mean? Probably a&lt;br /&gt;lot of stuff, and people much more capable than me have probably&lt;br /&gt;analysed it to death. But the things that I've noticed have a lot to&lt;br /&gt;do with this, I think. Turkey's uniqueness stems from the fact that&lt;br /&gt;the culture is based in Islam(Sunni though, not Shi'ih), but the&lt;br /&gt;country is technically secular. Ataturk changed the script from the&lt;br /&gt;Arabic script to the Roman script (thus making it easy for foreigners&lt;br /&gt;to come here and be able to read things like street signs and stuff).&lt;br /&gt;If I understand correctly, the women's dress normally associated with&lt;br /&gt;arab cultures was banned. So women were not allowed to wear the full&lt;br /&gt;head to toe covering gear. Although, you still see them occasionally&lt;br /&gt;(when I was here as an exchange student, we irreverently referred to&lt;br /&gt;them as "Ninja women" and considered it good luck to see one). Women&lt;br /&gt;who feel particularly religious wear colourful scarves on their heads&lt;br /&gt;and long skirts.&lt;br /&gt;Where am I going with this train of thought? I dunno. &lt;br /&gt;Istanbul was described by one of my students as "very cosmopolitan&lt;br /&gt;because it has people from all parts of Turkey". Hmmmmm... This is&lt;br /&gt;what is considered diversity here, that explains a lot. 15 years ago I&lt;br /&gt;quickly got used to people staring at me constantly everywhere I went.&lt;br /&gt;Most people had never seen a black person except on t.v. I was here&lt;br /&gt;again visiting last year and the year before and people stared, they&lt;br /&gt;had seen black people in real life, but it was still a rare event.&lt;br /&gt;Some of the other teachers have a big problem with being stared at by&lt;br /&gt;Turks (who don't necessarily consider it impolite), but they all agree&lt;br /&gt;that the staring that they get because of their blond hair or fair&lt;br /&gt;skin (or one teacher who is Indian, who gets stared at because of her&lt;br /&gt;dark skin) is nothing compared to what I get as a black person walking&lt;br /&gt;around here with dark brown skin and crazy hair.&lt;br /&gt;However, as I noticed 15 years ago and still notice today, the staring&lt;br /&gt;and the comments that I get do not feel like a negative racist thing.&lt;br /&gt;It is pure curiosity. I don't feel like when I walk into a store&lt;br /&gt;people are staring at me because they think I will pick up something&lt;br /&gt;and run out of the store with it. Very often, the stares are&lt;br /&gt;accompanied by smiles. People encourage their children and little&lt;br /&gt;toddlers to look at me, and I smile back at them and most of the time&lt;br /&gt;the parents are more excited than the kids! I decided a long time ago&lt;br /&gt;that if this is going to be people's only exposure to a black person,&lt;br /&gt;then I had better make it a pleasant experience! My flatmate Lydia&lt;br /&gt;thinks that it's a crazy idea. She hates being looked at, and with her&lt;br /&gt;fair Irish skin, dark hair and blue eyes, people tell her that she&lt;br /&gt;looks a lot like someone from the Black Sea region. People generally&lt;br /&gt;don't pay her too much attention here, but the few that do really irk&lt;br /&gt;her. She was amazed at how many people look at me as I walk down the&lt;br /&gt;street, and for fun, she sometimes walks a few paces behind to&lt;br /&gt;observe. It's really funny, I wish I could see things from that&lt;br /&gt;perspective, the way people walk by and pretend not to look, then pass&lt;br /&gt;me and stop to turn around and stare. She said people sometimes trip&lt;br /&gt;and bump into other people as well.&lt;br /&gt;The other thing that I noticed is that people think I'm beautiful.&lt;br /&gt;This never happens anywhere else. I remember last year when I was here&lt;br /&gt;with Lyndsay and Aida and Veronica, they were saying that Turkey does&lt;br /&gt;wonders for your self esteem, because people, men and women, young and&lt;br /&gt;old, are constantly telling you how beautiful they think you are. It's&lt;br /&gt;true, they do. I realise that their exposure is really limited. They&lt;br /&gt;see Turks constantly. Anyone who looks even a little different is&lt;br /&gt;exotic and beautiful. It's very flattering and you have to not let it&lt;br /&gt;go to your head :o)&lt;br /&gt;It's a nice place to be though, when "different" is a good thing!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6638159-111640018299419977?l=insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com/feeds/111640018299419977/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6638159&amp;postID=111640018299419977&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6638159/posts/default/111640018299419977'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6638159/posts/default/111640018299419977'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com/2005/05/being-different.html' title='Being Different'/><author><name>Krisia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03746222871170523486</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://static.flickr.com/76/192953712_c8af85065a_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6638159.post-111539350398119576</id><published>2005-05-06T18:31:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2005-05-06T18:42:10.773+03:00</updated><title type='text'>Ishikawas in Istanbul (and other things)</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="mobile-post"&gt;On Monday night I had a call from Shingo, he was here with his wife&lt;br /&gt;Amelia, and their 5-month old foetus for a visit. Lucky for me, I had&lt;br /&gt;the day off on Wednesday, so I arranged to meet them and go to the&lt;br /&gt;Grand Bazaar.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="mobile-post"&gt;We met, wandered and a good time was had by all. Bargaining,&lt;br /&gt;sightseeing, and just being tourists. Thanks to Shingo we found a nice&lt;br /&gt;little tea garden, a nice respite amidst the noise and bustle of the&lt;br /&gt;bazaar, and with the tea being only 35 YTK, which is the equivalent of&lt;br /&gt;about $0.25, it was all good!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="mobile-post"&gt;We then met up with Suzan and her husband, whose name evades me right&lt;br /&gt;now, although when I think it might be Gokhan, it feels kinda right.&lt;br /&gt;We had dinner at Hala, the favoured restaurant when I was in Turkey on&lt;br /&gt;my 2 trips from Haifa. Well, not really dinner, Shingo and I had&lt;br /&gt;appetizers. Then we went to chicheck pasaji. The Turkish spelling of&lt;br /&gt;that would kill my blog if I try to type it here, but that's the&lt;br /&gt;pronounciation. It's known for the seafood restaurants that vie for&lt;br /&gt;your presence as you walk along. I've only eaten there once, about 15&lt;br /&gt;years ago, however, at the entrance there's a place where you can get&lt;br /&gt;deep fried mussels on a stick for 1 YTL which is something like 60&lt;br /&gt;cents in euros, and stuffed mussels, for about a third of that price.&lt;br /&gt;When I took Vero, Lyndsay and Aida there last year, we stood there and&lt;br /&gt;had dinner and it came to like $2.50 each, and we were stuffed with&lt;br /&gt;mussels ourselves! On Wednesday night I had my fair share. Shingo will&lt;br /&gt;probably have the pics. Here's one of the 2 pregnant couples!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="mobile-post"&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/krisia/12641607/" title="Photo Sharing"&gt;&lt;img src="http://photos9.flickr.com/12641607_4b9c7a8724.jpg" width="500" height="375" alt="Ishikawas in Istanbul" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;p class="mobile-post"&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="mobile-post"&gt;I seem to be one of the few non-Turks who eat the stuffed mussels in&lt;br /&gt;the street. Okay, so the idea of having seafood being sold by a street&lt;br /&gt;vendor is sketchy at best, and scary at worst, but I realise now that&lt;br /&gt;when I was here as an exchange student, I was led around by the&lt;br /&gt;locals, and did the things the locals do. Turks walk up to street&lt;br /&gt;vendors and buy mussels, prepared with seasoned rice and stuffed back&lt;br /&gt;into the shell. They squeeze some lemon on it and there you are. It's&lt;br /&gt;absolutely delicious and a great snack. Eat enough and you can call it&lt;br /&gt;dinner... really cheap. I didn't think twice about it when I was with&lt;br /&gt;my host family or my school friends and we all stopped and ate them. I&lt;br /&gt;never got sick then, and I probably won't get sick now. In case I do&lt;br /&gt;though, I've found out the name of the active ingredient in Immodium&lt;br /&gt;(that story is for another blog), and my flatmate has a supply, so I'm&lt;br /&gt;good to go!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="mobile-post"&gt;Despite my love for Turkish food, and my recent reintroduction to all&lt;br /&gt;my favourites, I've lost some weight since I've been here. I've been&lt;br /&gt;sticking to the Spanish meal schedule (also popular in Barbados, but&lt;br /&gt;all meals about 4 hours earlier!). It works perfectly with my teaching&lt;br /&gt;schedule, and it's much cheaper. Light breakfast, lunch main meal,&lt;br /&gt;light late dinner. S'all good&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="mobile-post"&gt;I haven't shared the story of The Flat yet. It's still a continuing&lt;br /&gt;saga and I don't really want to get into it until it's resolved. But&lt;br /&gt;in a nutshell, the flat that Lydia and I were moved to is absolutely&lt;br /&gt;tiny, has no privacy, and has a choice of rooms that are very loosely&lt;br /&gt;termed bedrooms. One is a bedroom with a wardrobe and double bed and&lt;br /&gt;nothing else, no room for anything else. No windows either, except a&lt;br /&gt;sliding window to the other room which is actually a sunroom. Plenty&lt;br /&gt;of windows, no bed except a very uncomfortable sofa bed, and no&lt;br /&gt;wardrobe or anywhere to put your things. The kitchen is miniscule, the&lt;br /&gt;fridge is out on the balcony, on the other side of the flat from the&lt;br /&gt;fridge, the bathroom, I won't even get into. Suffice it to say, that&lt;br /&gt;we looked at it in horror and let the school know that if they&lt;br /&gt;expected us to stay there, they needed to think again. They're working&lt;br /&gt;on finding us a better place, so it should be a matter of days, a week&lt;br /&gt;at most.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="mobile-post"&gt;The teaching is going really well. I really love my classes. I went to&lt;br /&gt;lunch today with some of my upper intermediate students, and i love my&lt;br /&gt;weekend students, as I may have mentioned one or two (or 10) times&lt;br /&gt;before. so I'm really looking forward t otomorrow. For the past 4&lt;br /&gt;lessons, the pair of private students that I've had have been not&lt;br /&gt;coming, alternately, so basically for 4 lessons I've had to prepare 2,&lt;br /&gt;which is fun!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6638159-111539350398119576?l=insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com/feeds/111539350398119576/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6638159&amp;postID=111539350398119576&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6638159/posts/default/111539350398119576'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6638159/posts/default/111539350398119576'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com/2005/05/ishikawas-in-istanbul-and-other-things.html' title='Ishikawas in Istanbul (and other things)'/><author><name>Krisia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03746222871170523486</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://static.flickr.com/76/192953712_c8af85065a_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6638159.post-111494508251432312</id><published>2005-05-01T13:58:00.004+03:00</published><updated>2005-05-01T14:18:43.136+03:00</updated><title type='text'>Demonstration!!!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="flickrEmailPost"&gt;&lt;p&gt;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.&lt;br /&gt;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&lt;br /&gt;majorettes and a mack truck of speakers wouldn't have been out of place.&lt;br /&gt;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...&lt;br /&gt;Posse!) of riot police on the left.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a title="Demonstration!!!" href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/krisia/11746829/"&gt;&lt;img class="flickrEmailImage" alt="Demonstration!!!" src="http://photos8.flickr.com/11746829_0a56908b0d_m.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;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&lt;br /&gt;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&lt;br /&gt;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&lt;br /&gt;drinking tea....&lt;br /&gt;So I got to school, thinking, hmmm, if I could take a picture, that would be cool.&lt;br /&gt;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. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/krisia/11746849/"&gt;&lt;img class="flickrEmailImage" alt="Demonstration!!!" src="http://photos9.flickr.com/11746849_d14ca6d745_m.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/krisia/11746864/"&gt;&lt;img class="flickrEmailImage" alt="Demonstration!!!" src="http://photos11.flickr.com/11746864_23b7b26abc_m.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;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.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/krisia/11746893/"&gt;&lt;img class="flickrEmailImage" alt="Demonstration!!!" src="http://photos8.flickr.com/11746893_78cc07efa3_m.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/krisia/11746907/"&gt;&lt;img class="flickrEmailImage" alt="Demonstration!!!" src="http://photos10.flickr.com/11746907_08a6a31b46_m.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;They were all very nice and friendly and thought it was great that we wanted pics. As we&lt;br /&gt;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?&lt;br /&gt;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)&lt;br /&gt;More later....&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6638159-111494508251432312?l=insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com/feeds/111494508251432312/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6638159&amp;postID=111494508251432312&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6638159/posts/default/111494508251432312'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6638159/posts/default/111494508251432312'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com/2005/05/demonstration.html' title='Demonstration!!!'/><author><name>Krisia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03746222871170523486</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://static.flickr.com/76/192953712_c8af85065a_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6638159.post-111425063257008306</id><published>2005-04-23T13:03:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2005-04-23T13:03:52.570+03:00</updated><title type='text'>2 weeks</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="mobile-post"&gt;I've been here for 2 weeks already! Time is flying.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="mobile-post"&gt;I'm still living in a hotel, however our new flat will be ready for us&lt;br /&gt;on Tuesday!!! Yayyyy!!!!!!!&lt;br /&gt;All my classes are going really well. I am getting ready to teach my&lt;br /&gt;beginner class this afternoon, and they are my favourites. During&lt;br /&gt;their conversation activity, my intermediate class told Lydia that&lt;br /&gt;they really like me, and last night, one of my two private advanced&lt;br /&gt;students said that they had been talking about me, and they've had a&lt;br /&gt;lot of teachers so far, and I'm definitely one of the best they've&lt;br /&gt;had. In addition to being liked, I think I'm also managing to teach&lt;br /&gt;them English, which is the real success!&lt;br /&gt;I worked 25 hours my first week, 29 my second and I'm going into my&lt;br /&gt;3rd with a schedule for 31. It's a lot for a new teacher, but since&lt;br /&gt;the classes are 3 and 4 hours long, it doesn't take as much planning&lt;br /&gt;as, say 30 hours of one hour classes. Planning 4 hours is the same as&lt;br /&gt;planning 1 hour!&lt;br /&gt;I've got more pics to upload, possibly later. I have just switched&lt;br /&gt;with Alex for conversation practice with the upper intermediates, so I&lt;br /&gt;have to go get ready.&lt;br /&gt;Oh yeah, and Happy Ridvan!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6638159-111425063257008306?l=insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com/feeds/111425063257008306/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6638159&amp;postID=111425063257008306&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6638159/posts/default/111425063257008306'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6638159/posts/default/111425063257008306'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com/2005/04/2-weeks.html' title='2 weeks'/><author><name>Krisia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03746222871170523486</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://static.flickr.com/76/192953712_c8af85065a_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6638159.post-111364552233158654</id><published>2005-04-16T12:58:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2005-04-16T12:58:42.330+03:00</updated><title type='text'>Schedule</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="mobile-post"&gt;I keep missing people's phone calls because they are calling while I&lt;br /&gt;am in class.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="mobile-post"&gt;Here's my schedule as it stands right now, but subject to change...&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="mobile-post"&gt;Monday and Wednesday off.&lt;br /&gt;Tuesday and Thursday: 9:30 - 13:20, 13:30 - 14:20 and 19:15 - 22:00&lt;br /&gt;Friday: 19:15 - 22:00&lt;br /&gt;Saturday and Sunday: 13:30 - 14:20 and 14:30 - 18:20&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="mobile-post"&gt;Please don't call me during those times. I won't get your call.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6638159-111364552233158654?l=insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com/feeds/111364552233158654/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6638159&amp;postID=111364552233158654&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6638159/posts/default/111364552233158654'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6638159/posts/default/111364552233158654'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com/2005/04/schedule.html' title='Schedule'/><author><name>Krisia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03746222871170523486</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://static.flickr.com/76/192953712_c8af85065a_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6638159.post-111363201416866681</id><published>2005-04-16T09:13:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2005-04-16T09:13:34.166+03:00</updated><title type='text'>First weekend</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="mobile-post"&gt;I've been here a week today.&lt;br /&gt;I've taught 17 hours of classes.&lt;br /&gt;I've spent 7 nights in the As Hotel.&lt;br /&gt;I'm remembering about 75% of my Turkish.&lt;br /&gt;I've made friends with the other teachers in the school and some of&lt;br /&gt;the students.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="mobile-post"&gt;I really like it here. I was talking to another teacher yesterday,&lt;br /&gt;she's also new, and we were discussing our first week of teaching. How&lt;br /&gt;rewarding it is, and how easy and quickly the time passes while&lt;br /&gt;teaching. I thought that teaching 3- and 4-hour classes would be&lt;br /&gt;hellish. Our longest class during teacher training was an hour and&lt;br /&gt;planning that one took forever. Planning a 4 hour class is not any&lt;br /&gt;more difficult than planning a 1-hour class, and it's much easier to&lt;br /&gt;execute. There's time to deal with any problems that come up, play&lt;br /&gt;games, and just chat with the students. It's really nice. I think&lt;br /&gt;after teaching these classes it would be difficult to step down to 1&lt;br /&gt;and a half or 2 hour classes!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="mobile-post"&gt;On a completely different note, I saw a sign the other day and checked&lt;br /&gt;the internet to confirm, and Yes, it is true. IKEA is opening a store&lt;br /&gt;in Istanbul on May 5!!! Am I excited! YES!!!!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6638159-111363201416866681?l=insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com/feeds/111363201416866681/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6638159&amp;postID=111363201416866681&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6638159/posts/default/111363201416866681'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6638159/posts/default/111363201416866681'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com/2005/04/first-weekend.html' title='First weekend'/><author><name>Krisia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03746222871170523486</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://static.flickr.com/76/192953712_c8af85065a_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6638159.post-111355109087116924</id><published>2005-04-14T10:44:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2005-04-15T10:46:10.600+03:00</updated><title type='text'>Clear skies</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="flickrEmailPost"&gt;&lt;a title="Clear skies" href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/krisia/9460947/"&gt;&lt;img class="flickrEmailImage" alt="Clear skies" src="http://photos7.flickr.com/9460947_f02c78c748_m.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;p&gt;It rained last night so the pollution and dust in the air got cleaned&lt;br /&gt;out. This morning I had a nice view of the Blue Mosque and the&lt;br /&gt;Ayasofia Mosque across the Bosphorus. I said a nice view, not a nice&lt;br /&gt;picture...&lt;br /&gt;Another good morning of teaching. The intermediate class seems to like&lt;br /&gt;me, so that's nice.&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday evening I went across to the European side and had dinner&lt;br /&gt;with Nesim and her mom. It was nice catching up and chatting with&lt;br /&gt;Nesim. There really is a kinship with ex-BWC staff! It's nice.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6638159-111355109087116924?l=insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com/feeds/111355109087116924/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6638159&amp;postID=111355109087116924&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6638159/posts/default/111355109087116924'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6638159/posts/default/111355109087116924'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com/2005/04/clear-skies_14.html' title='Clear skies'/><author><name>Krisia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03746222871170523486</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://static.flickr.com/76/192953712_c8af85065a_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6638159.post-111339623879031123</id><published>2005-04-13T15:43:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2005-04-13T16:01:22.676+03:00</updated><title type='text'>lunch time by the sea</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="mobile-post"&gt;On my lunch break today, which wasn't really a lunch break, since I&lt;br /&gt;didn't have t owork today, but anyway, I went with Alex and Julia and&lt;br /&gt;one of their students, Little Can (pronounced little john - the c in&lt;br /&gt;turkish makes a j sound). We went and sat by the water and hung out&lt;br /&gt;for a bit.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="mobile-post"&gt;Here are some pics. Click on the pic for the big version on Flickr.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="mobile-post"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a title="Photo Sharing" href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/krisia/9305520/"&gt;&lt;img height="180" alt="by the sea" src="http://photos6.flickr.com/9305520_942d824dad_m.jpg" width="240" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a title="Photo Sharing" href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/krisia/9305527/"&gt;&lt;img height="180" alt="by the sea" src="http://photos4.flickr.com/9305527_5160008761_m.jpg" width="240" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a title="Photo Sharing" href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/krisia/9305535/"&gt;&lt;img height="180" alt="by the sea" src="http://photos6.flickr.com/9305535_83ac46d746_m.jpg" width="240" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a title="Photo Sharing" href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/krisia/9305552/"&gt;&lt;img height="180" alt="by the sea" src="http://photos7.flickr.com/9305552_5c305b135a_m.jpg" width="240" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a title="Photo Sharing" href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/krisia/9305566/"&gt;&lt;img height="180" alt="by the sea" src="http://photos4.flickr.com/9305566_20e253d5ce_m.jpg" width="240" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6638159-111339623879031123?l=insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com/feeds/111339623879031123/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6638159&amp;postID=111339623879031123&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6638159/posts/default/111339623879031123'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6638159/posts/default/111339623879031123'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com/2005/04/lunch-time-by-sea.html' title='lunch time by the sea'/><author><name>Krisia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03746222871170523486</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://static.flickr.com/76/192953712_c8af85065a_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6638159.post-111337595370125472</id><published>2005-04-13T10:05:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2005-04-13T10:05:53.703+03:00</updated><title type='text'>...and the sister hotel...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="flickrEmailPost"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/krisia/9290550/" title="...and the sister hotel..."&gt;&lt;img src="http://photos4.flickr.com/9290550_f4eeebee4e_m.jpg" alt="...and the sister hotel..." class="flickrEmailImage" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;p&gt;around the corner from the As Hotel is the sister hotel the Grand As Hotel.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No more ass jokes. I'm going for a walk this morning to take pictures&lt;br /&gt;of real things in istanbul :o)&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6638159-111337595370125472?l=insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com/feeds/111337595370125472/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6638159&amp;postID=111337595370125472&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6638159/posts/default/111337595370125472'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6638159/posts/default/111337595370125472'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com/2005/04/and-sister-hotel.html' title='...and the sister hotel...'/><author><name>Krisia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03746222871170523486</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://static.flickr.com/76/192953712_c8af85065a_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6638159.post-111337579787488594</id><published>2005-04-13T10:03:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2005-04-13T10:43:55.860+03:00</updated><title type='text'>ok, so not quite 5 stars...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="flickrEmailPost"&gt;&lt;a title="ok, so not quite 5 stars..." href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/krisia/9290447/"&gt;&lt;img class="flickrEmailImage" alt="ok, so not quite 5 stars..." src="http://photos8.flickr.com/9290447_fb208d009a_m.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;p&gt;here's a view of the entrance to the ass.... My hotel here in Istanbul, the As Hotel, is on a side street in Kadikoy. As you can see, it's not the epitome of luxury accomodation, but there's a double bed, my own bathroom, a t.v., a free breakfast, and my room gets cleaned every day. Oh and I found a couple of t.v. stations in English! The downside is that my room is lit by a 15 watt bulb! Yikes.&lt;br /&gt;If you want to know what it's like to have a room lit by a 15 watt bulb, try this: Light a candle. Blow it out. The glow that is left for a few second on the wick is about the brightness of the bulb in my room. Apparently the wiring is old and can't support anything more than that. It's only temporary so I don't mind. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6638159-111337579787488594?l=insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com/feeds/111337579787488594/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6638159&amp;postID=111337579787488594&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6638159/posts/default/111337579787488594'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6638159/posts/default/111337579787488594'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com/2005/04/ok-so-not-quite-5-stars.html' title='ok, so not quite 5 stars...'/><author><name>Krisia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03746222871170523486</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://static.flickr.com/76/192953712_c8af85065a_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6638159.post-111337504063441895</id><published>2005-04-13T09:50:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2005-04-13T10:08:20.756+03:00</updated><title type='text'>Tibidabo Randomness</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="flickrEmailPost"&gt;&lt;a title="Tibidabo Randomness" href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/krisia/9289766/"&gt;&lt;img class="flickrEmailImage" alt="Tibidabo Randomness" src="http://photos8.flickr.com/9289766_c66dc31014_m.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;p&gt;Refer to my blog of a March 29 of our day trip to Tibidabo.&lt;br /&gt;This first picture is of the old church with the new church sitting on top.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I've posted the other pics as March 30th...&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6638159-111337504063441895?l=insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com/feeds/111337504063441895/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6638159&amp;postID=111337504063441895&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6638159/posts/default/111337504063441895'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6638159/posts/default/111337504063441895'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com/2005/04/tibidabo-randomness.html' title='Tibidabo Randomness'/><author><name>Krisia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03746222871170523486</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://static.flickr.com/76/192953712_c8af85065a_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6638159.post-111331636597645012</id><published>2005-04-12T17:32:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2005-04-12T17:32:45.976+03:00</updated><title type='text'>Let the Teaching Begin!</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="mobile-post"&gt;I taught my first lesson this morning. It was a 4 hour class with a&lt;br /&gt;group of Intermediate students. For the past 2 days I've been worrying&lt;br /&gt;and fretting and planning and replanning this class in my head. It was&lt;br /&gt;totally unnecessary. The class went really well! The students were&lt;br /&gt;really nice and pleasant, fun to work with, agreeable... absolutely no&lt;br /&gt;problems! I think I could get used to this teacher thing!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="mobile-post"&gt;My next class is in an hour and a bit. I have 2 Advanced students for&lt;br /&gt;3 hours. This may be a bit more of a challenge, because they are&lt;br /&gt;advanced, but on the other hand, I will be able to have normal&lt;br /&gt;conversations with them. The challenge is making them feel&lt;br /&gt;challenged.... We'll see how it goes.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="mobile-post"&gt;So far so good!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6638159-111331636597645012?l=insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com/feeds/111331636597645012/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6638159&amp;postID=111331636597645012&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6638159/posts/default/111331636597645012'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6638159/posts/default/111331636597645012'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com/2005/04/let-teaching-begin.html' title='Let the Teaching Begin!'/><author><name>Krisia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03746222871170523486</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://static.flickr.com/76/192953712_c8af85065a_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6638159.post-111314955090009456</id><published>2005-04-10T19:00:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2005-04-10T19:12:30.900+03:00</updated><title type='text'>after a day</title><content type='html'>So I went for a walk this afternoon, to get acquainted with the area. It's hard to believe how much things are exactly as I remember them from when I was living here. The people, the place, everything! I love it!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My brain is still adjusting to Turkish. I understand everything perfectly, much to the surprise of the Turkish staff at the school, but when I try to speak, Spanish comes out! It's so funny! It's all coming back though, and after just a day, I am doing much better.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm so glad I came here. The people here at the school are wonderful. The school facilities are great. I haven't started teaching yet, so I reserve the right to change my opinion at any time!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All is well though.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6638159-111314955090009456?l=insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com/feeds/111314955090009456/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6638159&amp;postID=111314955090009456&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6638159/posts/default/111314955090009456'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6638159/posts/default/111314955090009456'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com/2005/04/after-day.html' title='after a day'/><author><name>Krisia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03746222871170523486</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://static.flickr.com/76/192953712_c8af85065a_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6638159.post-111314855145694373</id><published>2005-04-10T13:50:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2005-04-10T18:59:57.753+03:00</updated><title type='text'>In Turkey!!!!</title><content type='html'>So I made it... I'm tired, and still not in my place yet. I arrived at2, and I'm now at the school. I'll be working in the Kadikoy branch, and living on the Asian side. It's pretty cool here in this area. There's no flat available for me yet, so I'll be living in a hotel for a few weeks. I've just met some of the teachers here and they arereally nice. They-ve told me that the hotel is nice but it has arather peculiar name.... It's basically the Turkish for the "Ace Hotel" but it is "As Hotel" in Turkish... (continued from yesterday...I started this blog saturday, yesterday, and now it's Sunday) pronounced like "Ass Hotel" in English. As you can well imagine, there are lots of jokes among the english teachers here about staying in the ass etc... It's not bad at all though, and it's only temporary.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So it's Sunday now. I came in this morning to observe some classes, so I will have a clue when I start teaching. Speaking to the teachers, seeing the school, meeting the students, has got me looking forward to teaching. I've just found out that I'll be doing a private class for 2a dvanced students 3 days a week. The classes here are hardcore... 4 hours at a time. I thought it would be tough, because in training theclasses were 2 hours, and we only ever had to prepare an hour at most. But after observing this morning, I feel much better, there's a lot less pressure when teaching a 4 hour class. You don't have to worry that students will leave and be clueless at the end of it. There's time to address al the problems that come up, and do all sorts ofrelated activities. I will also be teaching a beginner class onweekends, saturday and sunday afternoons. 4 hours at a time. That's also exciting, there will be 12 people in that class to start with, although it may increase to up to 16 by then. 16 is the maximum class size here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm in Turkey again. It's so wonderful! I woke up this morning and it's glass-enclosed and has a view of the Bosphorus, so I can see the Blue mosque and Ayasofia Mosque across the sea. Oh yeah, I thought Iwould be at the new school that they are opening in Taksim, which is in the centre of the new city on the european side. I'm actually inKadikoy, which is on the Asian side. It's a nice area though. I've never lived on the Asian side before, but when I was an exchangestudent, we used to come over here a lot by ferry or seabus, and hangout. The main street on the Asian side looks more like a European city than any part of Istanbul! But I'm not on that street. I'm in an area near the seabus and ferry terminal (about a 4 minute walk). The school is on a main street, and the streets around are chock full of stores, restaurants, cafes, internet cafes, language schools and random otherstuff. There's a huge mall about 3 blocks away, and that other streetI was talking about starts about 3 blocks in another direction. There are cinemas, and all the movies are in the original language, but withTurkish subtitles, as opposed to dubbed like in Spain. The Kadikoy market is also nearby, with fresh fruits and vegetables, a meatmarket, a fish and seafood market and all sorts of stuff.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So as I was saying, I woke up and went to the terrace cafe and had aturkish breakfast. It's served every morning in the hotel. Chay -Turkish tea, Orange juice, and a plate with beyaz peynir - 'whitecheese' similar in texture to feta, but nicer, kahsar peynir - a cheese similar to a mild cheddar or maybe gouda, a boiled egg, olives,jam and butter, and a basket of fresh ekmek - the delicious turkishbread that i've missed all these years.&lt;br /&gt;Anyway I have to go (someone else has to use the computer).&lt;br /&gt;Later! :0)&lt;br /&gt;);&lt;br /&gt;//--&gt;&lt;br /&gt;went up to the terrace cafe on the roof of the hotel for breakfast.It's glass-enclosed and has a view of the Bosphorus, so I can see theBlue mosque and Ayasofia Mosque across the sea. Oh yeah, I thought Iwould be at the new school that they are opening in Taksim, which isin the centre of the new city on the european side. I'm actually inKadikoy, which is on the Asian side. It's a nice area though. I'venever lived on the Asian side before, but when I was an exchangestudent, we used to come over here a lot by ferry or seabus, and hangout. The main street on the Asian side looks more like a European citythan any part of Istanbul! But I'm not on that street. I'm in an areanear the seabus and ferry terminal (about a 4 minute walk). The schoolis on a main street, and the streets around are chock full of stores,restaurants, cafes, internet cafes, language schools and random otherstuff. There's a huge mall about 3 blocks away, and that other streetI was talking about starts about 3 blocks in another direction. Thereare cinemas, and all the movies are in the original language, but withTurkish subtitles, as opposed to dubbed like in Spain. The Kadikoymarket is also nearby, with fresh fruits and vegetables, a meatmarket, a fish and seafood market and all sorts of stuff.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So as I was saying, I woke up and went to the terrace cafe and had aturkish breakfast. It's served every morning in the hotel. Chay -Turkish tea, Orange juice, and a plate with beyaz peynir - 'whitecheese' similar in texture to feta, but nicer, kahsar peynir - acheese similar to a mild cheddar or maybe gouda, a boiled egg, olives,jam and butter, and a basket of fresh ekmek - the delicious turkishbread that i've missed all these years.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6638159-111314855145694373?l=insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com/feeds/111314855145694373/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6638159&amp;postID=111314855145694373&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6638159/posts/default/111314855145694373'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6638159/posts/default/111314855145694373'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com/2005/04/in-turkey.html' title='In Turkey!!!!'/><author><name>Krisia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03746222871170523486</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://static.flickr.com/76/192953712_c8af85065a_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6638159.post-111272877632747073</id><published>2005-04-05T22:19:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2005-04-05T22:21:50.873+03:00</updated><title type='text'>Big Changes!</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="mobile-post"&gt;Okay so last July I moved to Spain. The plan was to get a job and work until it was time to do the Cafe thing. Since last September I've been living in Bilbao, looking for a job. To no avail. Last month I went to Barcelona and did the CELTA course to become an English teacher. I got a pass B and started the job hunt again. In addition to there being a few jobs available in Spain, and even one or 2 in Northern Spain, there were jobs available online all over the world.  Out of curiosity, I sent for more details on a job in Istanbul, since I lived there before, love the city, speak Turkish etc.... Well, to make a long story short, it's now 2 and a half weeks later, I've been offered a contract in Istanbul, for a job that pays well and includes accomodation. Incidentally, I also got one of the jobs in Northern Spain, but the problem is it is for a week at a time. The contract is only for a week, if they like you they give you opportunities to work more weeks. It's a good deal, moneywise, but not very stable. They can decide at any moment to ask someone else. Not really what I need at this time!&lt;br /&gt;So anyway, I leave for Istanbul on Saturday. Friday is my birthday, and it looks like I'll be spending it in Barcelona, since that's where  I have to be on Saturday morning at 4:30 a.m. for check in. Why not hang out for my birthday then go? :o)&lt;br /&gt;So for the next year, I will be in Istanbul. The original contract was for 9 months, but the extra 3 months is worth it for the bonus, plus, 1 year's experience teaching English is much better than 9 months!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="mobile-post"&gt;In case it slipped by you, Friday April 8 is my birthday :o) It may be hard to get a gift to me, but if you want to send cash, I'm a PayPal user and will gladly accept :o)&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="mobile-post"&gt;Happy my-Birthday everyone!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6638159-111272877632747073?l=insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com/feeds/111272877632747073/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6638159&amp;postID=111272877632747073&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6638159/posts/default/111272877632747073'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6638159/posts/default/111272877632747073'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com/2005/04/big-changes.html' title='Big Changes!'/><author><name>Krisia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03746222871170523486</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://static.flickr.com/76/192953712_c8af85065a_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6638159.post-111218553316724299</id><published>2005-03-30T15:25:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2005-03-30T15:25:33.166+03:00</updated><title type='text'>Hang guy!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="flickrEmailPost"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/krisia/7880645/" title="Hang guy!"&gt;&lt;img src="http://photos4.flickr.com/7880645_8b04838ad7_m.jpg" alt="Hang guy!" class="flickrEmailImage" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;p&gt;So in Barcelona, among the many odd street performers (see future blog&lt;br /&gt;about chinese balancing man), we found a guy playing a strange&lt;br /&gt;instrument that looked like a cross between a flying saucer and a&lt;br /&gt;steel pan. Captivated by the beautiful, meditative sound coming from&lt;br /&gt;the instrument, and it's similarities to the ever-popular Trinidadian&lt;br /&gt;steel pan, I moved in for a closer look and listen. Jen got a picture&lt;br /&gt;(thanks Jen!). I got to talk to him when he finished playing, and it&lt;br /&gt;turns out, this instrument is called a "Hang" - pronounced "hung". The&lt;br /&gt;guy in the picture (from then on referred to by all of us present as&lt;br /&gt;"hung guy") went on to explain that this is a new instrument,&lt;br /&gt;developed in Switzerland. It is a derivative of the steel pan, and is&lt;br /&gt;played with the fingers, by hitting the spots on it. It's really cool.&lt;br /&gt;Has a beautiful sound. Haunting and melodic. I found a website that&lt;br /&gt;talks a bit about it and has a sound clip as well...&lt;br /&gt;http://www.oddmusic.com/gallery/om16250.html&lt;br /&gt;It comes in a variety of different scales. The one that Hung Guy had&lt;br /&gt;was in F Minor. In his little demonstration of how it worked, he also&lt;br /&gt;turned it over, and used a cupped hand to bang percussively on the&lt;br /&gt;opening, creating an eerie drumming sound. Very cool.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6638159-111218553316724299?l=insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com/feeds/111218553316724299/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6638159&amp;postID=111218553316724299&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6638159/posts/default/111218553316724299'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6638159/posts/default/111218553316724299'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com/2005/03/hang-guy.html' title='Hang guy!'/><author><name>Krisia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03746222871170523486</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://static.flickr.com/76/192953712_c8af85065a_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6638159.post-111337546176833501</id><published>2005-03-30T10:57:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2005-04-13T10:09:31.006+03:00</updated><title type='text'>Lame amusement park...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="flickrEmailPost"&gt;&lt;a title="Lame amusement park..." href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/krisia/9290116/"&gt;&lt;img class="flickrEmailImage" alt="Lame amusement park..." src="http://photos4.flickr.com/9290116_bba232c849_m.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;p&gt;... falling off the edge of the mountain. We found out later that the&lt;br /&gt;cool rides are down below and around the corner. We also decided that&lt;br /&gt;this place (the church pictures and the amusement park pictures are&lt;br /&gt;taken from exactly the same viewing point) would be a perfect location&lt;br /&gt;for a horror movie. The weather helped that impression too!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6638159-111337546176833501?l=insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com/feeds/111337546176833501/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6638159&amp;postID=111337546176833501&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6638159/posts/default/111337546176833501'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6638159/posts/default/111337546176833501'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com/2005/03/lame-amusement-park.html' title='Lame amusement park...'/><author><name>Krisia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03746222871170523486</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://static.flickr.com/76/192953712_c8af85065a_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6638159.post-111337532514152666</id><published>2005-03-30T10:55:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2005-04-13T10:09:08.856+03:00</updated><title type='text'>Tibidabo 3</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="flickrEmailPost"&gt;&lt;a title="Tibidabo 3" href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/krisia/9290008/"&gt;&lt;img class="flickrEmailImage" alt="Tibidabo 3" src="http://photos7.flickr.com/9290008_bc7eec2cb9_m.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;p&gt;If you look closely, you see the Christ statue up in the clouds....&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6638159-111337532514152666?l=insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com/feeds/111337532514152666/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6638159&amp;postID=111337532514152666&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6638159/posts/default/111337532514152666'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6638159/posts/default/111337532514152666'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com/2005/03/tibidabo-3.html' title='Tibidabo 3'/><author><name>Krisia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03746222871170523486</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://static.flickr.com/76/192953712_c8af85065a_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6638159.post-111337519238769862</id><published>2005-03-30T10:53:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2005-04-13T10:08:51.120+03:00</updated><title type='text'>Tibidabo 2</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="flickrEmailPost"&gt;&lt;a title="Tibidabo 2" href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/krisia/9289883/"&gt;&lt;img class="flickrEmailImage" alt="Tibidabo 2" src="http://photos7.flickr.com/9289883_7ddb767dfb_m.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;p&gt;This one is the thing next to the church. I can't remember what it's&lt;br /&gt;called... Oh well...&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6638159-111337519238769862?l=insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com/feeds/111337519238769862/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6638159&amp;postID=111337519238769862&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6638159/posts/default/111337519238769862'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6638159/posts/default/111337519238769862'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com/2005/03/tibidabo-2.html' title='Tibidabo 2'/><author><name>Krisia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03746222871170523486</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://static.flickr.com/76/192953712_c8af85065a_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6638159.post-111209397845259072</id><published>2005-03-29T13:39:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2005-03-29T13:59:38.456+03:00</updated><title type='text'>Back in Bilbo</title><content type='html'>Bilbo is the Basque (Euskera) word for Bilbao. Curiously enough, it is also the name of a Hobbit in Lord of the Rings. I don't think there is any connection... but you never know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am back in Bilbao again, after 5 weeks in Barcelona. I used to think that Barcelona was my favourite city in Spain. 4 weeks of a highly intensive, highly stressful course, and then one week of Semana Santa there has changed my mind. I really like it still, but as Jen and Alice and I discussed last week, there is something slightly bizarre about it. Bizarre things happen there, people are slightly off-kilter.... Sarah agreed. She's from Holland as has been studying there for a while. It's as if everything is slightly tilted. If you turn your head to the side a little, everything looks and seems normal, but if you look harder, and put your head straight, you realise that things are not quite.... I don't know how to explain it.... I still would love to visit every so often, it's such a cool place, all the Gaudi stuff makes me happy when I look at it, and I would love to get a chance to visit MACBA and the Picasso Museum. Walking down from Tibidabo to Barcelona was cool too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tibidabo, now that was a surreal experience that totally summed up the weirdness that is Barcelona. Outside of the city, on the highest mountain in the area, 512 metres above sea level, there is a place called Tibadabo. We made a day triip of it on Friday, even though it was kind of cloudy out. By all guidebook reports, it would be an interesting view of the city and there was a cool church and an amusement park up there. I envisioned a mountaintop with a park and places to walk and sit, and this cool church, and an interesting amusement park.... Well. Not quite. We caught the Tibibus from Plaza Catalunya and after an infinitely long ride (I think it was half an hour) on a crowded, hot bus (the driver had turned on the heat, and some of the passengers kept closing the windows), we arrived. We got off the bus and it appeared we had landed in hell. Not in the fiery brimstone sense, but it was a public holiday, and everyone and their 6 children had decided to go to the amusement park. It hadn't opened yet, so there was just a 'line' - or rather a moving, screaming, shouting mass of excited children and frustrated parents. There doesn't seem to be much space on the Tibidabo peak.... the entrance to the church is right next to the entrance to the amusement park.... of course there was no line for the church... not even on Good Friday! So we squeezed through the people and walked up. There are actually two churches built one on top of the other. I don't quite understand why they would do this. The end result is an old-looking stone bottom bit, and a weird light grey granite monstrosity on top, towering overhead, topped by a figure of Christ with hands outstreched, which can be seen from all over BCN. So we climbed up. The weather was crap, we couldn't see a lot of the city for the fog. Looking up, the Christ statue emerged eerily out of the bottom of a  cloud. The view straight ahead was of the top of one of the amusement park buildings, and a lame ferris wheel, an even lamer roller coaster, a sketchy looking merry-go-round and some other rides. The scary thing is, these rides are built into the side of a mountain. They look like the slightest gust of wind will blow them over the edge, crashing into the city below.  We were there in time to see the gates open and the people rush in from one line to form another to go ont the lame rides. Kinda sad really.&lt;br /&gt;We stayed there for all of about 15 minutes, at which point we had had enough. We had gotten a map from the info desk with a route to walk down the hill through the woods. We didn't quite know where the path ended, just that it was near Barcelona. The estimated time for the walk was somewhere between 30 minutes to one hour and 30 minutes. The fact that a possible 1 hour and 30 minute walk to an unknown destination was preferable to the idea of that bus again gives you some idea of how hellish the ride actually was.&lt;br /&gt;The walk was beautiful, except for the first 10-15 minutes of it, which was on a road not designed for pedestrians, crowded with cars of people going up to join the lines at the park. But once we got onto the bike path, it was all good.&lt;br /&gt;I still don't know how long the walk was, it was nice to be outside though, and walking, and not inhaling exhaust fumes or secondhand cigarette smoke, and not seeing buildings. Very nice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm sitting here in Bilbao now with the view of the mountains, clean air, blue sky. I'm not missing Barcelona at all and it will be a while before the Gaudi buildings call me back for a short visit.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6638159-111209397845259072?l=insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com/feeds/111209397845259072/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6638159&amp;postID=111209397845259072&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6638159/posts/default/111209397845259072'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6638159/posts/default/111209397845259072'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com/2005/03/back-in-bilbo.html' title='Back in Bilbo'/><author><name>Krisia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03746222871170523486</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://static.flickr.com/76/192953712_c8af85065a_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6638159.post-111185863920188751</id><published>2005-03-26T19:37:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2005-03-26T19:37:19.203+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Last month in San Sebastian</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="mobile-post"&gt;Something happened last month that I never blogged, but I've really&lt;br /&gt;wanted to, and although it happened about 6 weeks ago, when I was in&lt;br /&gt;San Sebastian with Vi, it's still fresh in my mind as if it happened&lt;br /&gt;yesterday.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="mobile-post"&gt;We were in a bar, checking out the selection of pintxos that San&lt;br /&gt;Sebastian is renowned for. While we were trying to decide between a&lt;br /&gt;yummy looking salmon thing or a yummy looking something else, a man&lt;br /&gt;with a young child in his arms stood next to us. The man, very&lt;br /&gt;sweetly, came up to me and explained that his child (I'm still not&lt;br /&gt;sure whether it was a boy or a girl, but definitely toddler-age, maybe&lt;br /&gt;2 years old or so) had never seen a Black person and the father wanted&lt;br /&gt;to show him (or her) that there was nothing to be afraid of. I was so&lt;br /&gt;touched. He gently touched my hand and held his hand next to mine and&lt;br /&gt;encouraged her (or him) to touch them both, and see that it felt the&lt;br /&gt;same and that the only difference was the colour. The child was shy&lt;br /&gt;and a bit scared, and didn't want to touch my hand, and the man was&lt;br /&gt;sad, and very apologetic. He didn't force anything on the child, but&lt;br /&gt;was very encouraging. They went and sat down and we got our pintxos&lt;br /&gt;and sat next to them. Vi was also very cute and kissed me on the cheek&lt;br /&gt;and touched my hand to show how much she loved me and that I looked&lt;br /&gt;different but was still loveable. It wasn't any more than 5 minutes of&lt;br /&gt;this, and the little kid was still a bit shy, but it was so touching.&lt;br /&gt;Sweetest of all was the man's sadness that his child could grow up&lt;br /&gt;being afraid of black people and his willingness to overcome his own&lt;br /&gt;shyness and approach me to help him to show his child that it's okay&lt;br /&gt;to look different. I don't know for sure if anything was accomplished&lt;br /&gt;as far as the child was concerned, and whether or not this will be&lt;br /&gt;remembered, but I think if his/her father remains as willing to help&lt;br /&gt;overcome the prejudice that comes with ignorance, there's a lot of&lt;br /&gt;hope....&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6638159-111185863920188751?l=insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com/feeds/111185863920188751/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6638159&amp;postID=111185863920188751&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6638159/posts/default/111185863920188751'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6638159/posts/default/111185863920188751'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com/2005/03/last-month-in-san-sebastian.html' title='Last month in San Sebastian'/><author><name>Krisia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03746222871170523486</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://static.flickr.com/76/192953712_c8af85065a_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6638159.post-111149098119702963</id><published>2005-03-22T13:29:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2005-03-22T13:29:41.196+02:00</updated><title type='text'>It's only just begun...</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="mobile-post"&gt;Interviews... jobs, decisions.... &lt;br /&gt;For the past month I have been constantly writing lesson plans,&lt;br /&gt;praying for the end of the course and the end of the long tedious&lt;br /&gt;mapping out of every step a half-hour or 40-minute or 60-minute class&lt;br /&gt;will take. They assured us that lesson planning will never again be&lt;br /&gt;like it was on the course. Once we start working, a simple overview of&lt;br /&gt;the lesson will suffice. They promised. But they forgot to mention one&lt;br /&gt;thing... every interview I have been on, every application I have&lt;br /&gt;filled in, has asked for at least one lesson plan. The latest job has&lt;br /&gt;asked me for 3 one-hour plans. This is insane! I mean, theoretically,&lt;br /&gt;I could download and adapt one off the Internet, so what are they&lt;br /&gt;testing really? I think I've got the answer. They want you to prove&lt;br /&gt;that you really are interested in the job.... So far they haven't been&lt;br /&gt;too challenging. But right now I've hit a wall. For this well-paying&lt;br /&gt;job that I really want, that will allow me to stay in Bilbao in my own&lt;br /&gt;place and have a lot of free time, one of the 3 lesson plans is&lt;br /&gt;teaching a businessperson the subjunctive in English. OK. Let's look&lt;br /&gt;at this. In Spanish they have a whole set of stuff dealing with&lt;br /&gt;subjunctive. it's a mood, with 6 tenses of its own. All the verbs have&lt;br /&gt;6 conjugations for the subjunctive. It's a big thing. In English, we&lt;br /&gt;hardly use it, and when we do, it's even easier than using a verb&lt;br /&gt;normally. So yeah, I can teach it. But really, unless a person insited&lt;br /&gt;on learning it, I probably wouldn't include it in a syllabus. Why are&lt;br /&gt;the Spanish so preoccupied with it? If I were them, I would be glad to&lt;br /&gt;be rid of it. (in that sentence 'were' is the subjunctive form). So,&lt;br /&gt;since this employer demands that I prove my ability to plan a lesson&lt;br /&gt;(another subjunctive... 'that I prove'), I shall....&lt;br /&gt;Bye bye.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6638159-111149098119702963?l=insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com/feeds/111149098119702963/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6638159&amp;postID=111149098119702963&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6638159/posts/default/111149098119702963'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6638159/posts/default/111149098119702963'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com/2005/03/its-only-just-begun.html' title='It&apos;s only just begun...'/><author><name>Krisia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03746222871170523486</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://static.flickr.com/76/192953712_c8af85065a_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6638159.post-111130567252530642</id><published>2005-03-20T10:01:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2005-03-20T10:01:12.526+02:00</updated><title type='text'>It's Over!</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="mobile-post"&gt;Wow, a month flew by! The course is finally over. I got the grade I&lt;br /&gt;was working so hard for. Now comes the fun part where I'm job-hunting&lt;br /&gt;again. But this time I'm an English teacher. I came to Zaragoza for an&lt;br /&gt;interview yesterday. It seems like a decent job, and the pay is good.&lt;br /&gt;Only problem is that I have to come up with three sample one-hour&lt;br /&gt;lesson plans to send him by tomorrow afternoon. I thought the assessed&lt;br /&gt;lesson plans ended with the course... but it's only the beginning! The&lt;br /&gt;job is fora company that does intensive residential English courses.&lt;br /&gt;Basically clients come for a week (mostly business clients) and are&lt;br /&gt;immersed in English. It normally takes place at a hotel in the country&lt;br /&gt;somewhere, the company has a number of places that they use, including&lt;br /&gt;some very near to and on the outskirts of Bilbao. The teachers live&lt;br /&gt;wherever they want, and just come to the place to do the courses. It&lt;br /&gt;looks quite promising. The pay is good, but it's because it's an&lt;br /&gt;intensive work week (followed by a week of relaxing). If I get it,&lt;br /&gt;I'll take it. I had an interview on Thursday for a job, but it doesn't&lt;br /&gt;offer enough hours or money to be worth it, although I got the job.&lt;br /&gt;I'm going to Madrid this weekend. Hector just told me about a Baha'i&lt;br /&gt;school they're having so I'm going to go and help out. I haven't done&lt;br /&gt;much Baha'i stuff for the month I've been in BCN so it's nice to be&lt;br /&gt;doing something. Farida is coming for a visit this week and I'm&lt;br /&gt;looking forward to seeing her again. We always have lots o' fun :o)&lt;br /&gt;Happy Naw-Ruz!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6638159-111130567252530642?l=insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com/feeds/111130567252530642/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6638159&amp;postID=111130567252530642&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6638159/posts/default/111130567252530642'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6638159/posts/default/111130567252530642'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com/2005/03/its-over.html' title='It&apos;s Over!'/><author><name>Krisia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03746222871170523486</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://static.flickr.com/76/192953712_c8af85065a_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6638159.post-111087383819680043</id><published>2005-03-14T10:02:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2005-03-15T10:03:58.196+02:00</updated><title type='text'>No Time for Anything!!!</title><content type='html'>This course is intense!!!I can't believe it's been 3 weeks already! I only have to teach 2 more times and it's over. Of course the 2 times are today and Friday, so the intensity is here all week... Everyone else finishes teaching before Amanda and I. We were scheduled to teach our last class onThursday, but because the Cambridge assessor is coming on Friday, instead of going to observe someone who is already scheduled forFriday teaching practice, they decided to have her come and observe Amanda and I, and switched us from thursday to friday! ugh!!! It's okay though. I can prepare that class tonight and I'll be good to go. It's so strange still... on the lesson plans, there is a box where you put your name, and instead of "name" as the label, it says "teacher" I still feel weird putting "Krisia" in that box.&lt;br /&gt;I have to go now... this is a lame blog I know, but such is life....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6638159-111087383819680043?l=insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com/feeds/111087383819680043/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6638159&amp;postID=111087383819680043&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6638159/posts/default/111087383819680043'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6638159/posts/default/111087383819680043'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com/2005/03/no-time-for-anything.html' title='No Time for Anything!!!'/><author><name>Krisia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03746222871170523486</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://static.flickr.com/76/192953712_c8af85065a_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6638159.post-110932967899176001</id><published>2005-02-25T13:07:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2005-02-25T13:07:58.990+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Swimming in a CELTA Sea</title><content type='html'>Well, I'm one week into my course in teaching English as a second&lt;br /&gt;language, and I am enjoying it immensely. They definitely threw us in&lt;br /&gt;the deep end, with an "orientation meeting" on friday last week, which&lt;br /&gt;was actally to teach us the icebreaker games that we would be teaching&lt;br /&gt;our students on Monday, our first teaching day, which also happened to&lt;br /&gt;be the first day of the course. Of course, my big question was "who&lt;br /&gt;are these suckers that have agreed to learn English from teacher&lt;br /&gt;trainees?". I learned very quickly that, no they are not crazy&lt;br /&gt;masochists, but actually a group of 14 wonderful adult students, who&lt;br /&gt;jumped at the opportunity to get english lessons catered to their&lt;br /&gt;level for 2 hours every day for a month at a hugely discounted&lt;br /&gt;rate.... I mean huge. They pay about the same as most language schools&lt;br /&gt;charge for 1 or 2 of the same lessons. It even includes some lessons&lt;br /&gt;from tutors - our teachers who actually know what they are doing!&lt;br /&gt;One of the first things that was done was that we were put into TP&lt;br /&gt;groups (no, not toothpaste or toilet paper, but Teaching Practice).&lt;br /&gt;Unfortunately, our group is missing one person, as Christopher the&lt;br /&gt;mountain-climber was a no-show for the course. I am in a group with&lt;br /&gt;Kate, Amanda, Caspar and Nives. The five of us spend a lot of time&lt;br /&gt;working together, as we teach the same class, and are together for the&lt;br /&gt;teaching and feedback. We don't teach in groups, but rather each of us&lt;br /&gt;is respnsible for a 30- or 40-minute portion of the 2-hour class.&lt;br /&gt;Our mornings are occupied with seminars and videos, followed by a&lt;br /&gt;feedback session from the teaching practice the day before. Then&lt;br /&gt;lunch, and the afternoon is spent teaching, reviewing how it went, and&lt;br /&gt;preparing for the next day. So far so good.... must go. More to come!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6638159-110932967899176001?l=insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com/feeds/110932967899176001/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6638159&amp;postID=110932967899176001&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6638159/posts/default/110932967899176001'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6638159/posts/default/110932967899176001'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com/2005/02/swimming-in-celta-sea.html' title='Swimming in a CELTA Sea'/><author><name>Krisia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03746222871170523486</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://static.flickr.com/76/192953712_c8af85065a_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6638159.post-110892933386664198</id><published>2005-02-20T21:55:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2005-02-20T21:55:33.866+02:00</updated><title type='text'>In Barcelona</title><content type='html'>We arrived on a bus at 6:15 a.m. &lt;br /&gt;Disoriented, stiff and tired, we decided to take a taxi instead of the&lt;br /&gt;metro to the apartment where I am staying for the duration of the&lt;br /&gt;course.&lt;br /&gt;We got in the taxi. I couldn't find the card where I had written the&lt;br /&gt;address. I rummaged around in my bag, and in my pockets. Nada. So I&lt;br /&gt;decided to call the lady who I am staying with, and get the address.&lt;br /&gt;Rummaged in pockets again - no cellphone! Geesh! Vi had the brilliant&lt;br /&gt;idea of taking the taxi to the other bus station, where the bus was&lt;br /&gt;going next. Our taxi driver, a Spanish driver with clear streets at 6&lt;br /&gt;a.m., in a city where red lights are more of a guideline than a rule,&lt;br /&gt;managed to get us there in record time. I ran downstairs to where the&lt;br /&gt;buses were, and found our bus. It was being cleaned. The driver let me&lt;br /&gt;get on and look. I checked our seat, and under it, and the seats in&lt;br /&gt;front and behind. Nothing. The sweeping guy asked what I was looking&lt;br /&gt;for and I explained that my phone was missing. He checked the seat,&lt;br /&gt;then he did something I thought was crazy, he felt under the seat. Not&lt;br /&gt;in the space on the floor, the underside of the seat. Hooked in a&lt;br /&gt;really weird way that totally obscured it from view, was my phone.&lt;br /&gt;There is no way I would have found it otherwise! Wow! So a few minutes&lt;br /&gt;later we were in another taxi headed for my new home for the next&lt;br /&gt;month....&lt;br /&gt;Barcelona is beautiful. Just as beautiful as I remembered. The people&lt;br /&gt;in my course are great, and I'm looking forward to the first day&lt;br /&gt;tomorrow. The only bad thing is that Vi's foot is really badly injured&lt;br /&gt;and she can't walk very well. We managed to get to park guell today&lt;br /&gt;and will see things little by little :o)&lt;br /&gt;Oh yeah, and i lost my wallet friday night.... internet time's up&lt;br /&gt;though.... Next post....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6638159-110892933386664198?l=insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com/feeds/110892933386664198/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6638159&amp;postID=110892933386664198&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6638159/posts/default/110892933386664198'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6638159/posts/default/110892933386664198'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com/2005/02/in-barcelona.html' title='In Barcelona'/><author><name>Krisia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03746222871170523486</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://static.flickr.com/76/192953712_c8af85065a_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6638159.post-110830071843311935</id><published>2005-02-13T15:18:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2005-02-13T15:40:06.796+02:00</updated><title type='text'>A Day and a Night in San Sebastian</title><content type='html'>Violetta arrived yesterday. We had planned to meet in Irún, where her train was arriving, and since she was arriving a day earlier than originally planned and organised with her host in Bilbao, I was going to meet her there and spend a night there, and then come back to Bilbao together today. Thing is, when I read the Lonely Planet about Irún, it basically said there's nothing to see here. The only information it gives is how to get out. This lack of interesting things was reaffirmed when I mentioned to a couple of people that I was going to Irún. "¿Irún? What are you going there for??? There's nothing there." If I needed more confirmation, I got it as the bus drove through the city/village when we got there. No problem. I met up with Vi and we hopped on a train that left for San Sebastian 2 minutes later. San Sebastian is said to be the most Basque City of the Basque Country. It was originally a fishing village, and then a century or so ago it became a really popular resort town for rich European holidaymakers. Now, with the old city containing more bars and restaurant per square metre than probably anyplace in the world, it's party central on weekend nights. It's also the host of an International Jazz Festival in July. Anyway, we hung out in San Seb, sampling tapas and mosto in various bars, played backgammon with churros y chocolate in a family-type churreria-cafeteria, and continued the backgammon game in a really cool cafe with some mint tea. Very nice. The plan was to go back to our nice (and cheap) room and rest before taking on the dance scene later that night. As I've already mentioned in a number of places in this blog, everything in Spain works on a different schedule. I have been told that clubs don't really get going until about midnight or so. When we went out at 10 or so looking for somewhere to hang out and dance, we proved this rumour true. We stopped at a few different places, they were pretty empty, just a few people hanging around, no one dancing. Not surprising, since at 10 or so, a lot of people are just having dinner. Some restaurants don't open for dinner until 10! Anyway, Vi was tired and suffering from a case of uncomfortable shoes so we went back to the room with plans to come back out later. However, the travelling must have taken it's toll and she had no inclination to get up at 1 in the morning and go party. So I went myself and checked it out. It was all I thought it would be. Every single place had people dancing and each place was, as they say in Bermuda, RAMMED. I didn't stay out long though, since it was weird all by myself.&lt;br /&gt;We got up at about 10 and went for a walk by the water. The weather really wasn't good for taking pics, windy and rainy... so we went for croissants for breakfast and the ncaught the bus to Bilbao. Now we're here in "my city" and for the next few days I will show her around. I really hope she likes it! She's already addicted to Mosto.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6638159-110830071843311935?l=insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com/feeds/110830071843311935/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6638159&amp;postID=110830071843311935&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6638159/posts/default/110830071843311935'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6638159/posts/default/110830071843311935'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com/2005/02/day-and-night-in-san-sebastian.html' title='A Day and a Night in San Sebastian'/><author><name>Krisia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03746222871170523486</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://static.flickr.com/76/192953712_c8af85065a_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6638159.post-110797762324890772</id><published>2005-02-09T21:32:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2005-02-09T21:33:43.250+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Engrish</title><content type='html'>I've seen a lot of Engrish here in Spain. So much so that I have started ignoring it. I've really gotta start carrying my camera. The menus in "English" are the best. Meanwhile, if you want something to laugh at occasionally, take a look at &lt;a href="http://www.Engrish.com"&gt;www.Engrish.com&lt;/a&gt;. I'm sure as a future ESL teaher, my Engrish days are just beginning.....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6638159-110797762324890772?l=insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com/feeds/110797762324890772/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6638159&amp;postID=110797762324890772&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6638159/posts/default/110797762324890772'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6638159/posts/default/110797762324890772'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com/2005/02/engrish.html' title='Engrish'/><author><name>Krisia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03746222871170523486</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://static.flickr.com/76/192953712_c8af85065a_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6638159.post-110797012209059651</id><published>2005-02-09T18:45:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2005-02-09T19:35:20.643+02:00</updated><title type='text'>The Bus Community</title><content type='html'>I live in Bilbao. Greater Bilbao (Bilbao and the many suburbs surrounding it) has a population of about 500 000. It's pretty small for a city. I've lived in smaller, and I've lived in bigger. To get some perspective, I was sitting on the bus this morning comparing the population of Bilbao to the populations of the other places I've lived. Bilbao has (according to my memories of the populations of these places and some sketchy mental arithmetic):&lt;br /&gt;almost 10 times as many people as Bermuda,&lt;br /&gt;1/18 the population of Istanbul,&lt;br /&gt;about twice as many people as Barbados,&lt;br /&gt;half as many as Trinidad,&lt;br /&gt;1/6 as many people as Montreal, and&lt;br /&gt;2 and a half times as many people as Haifa.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As far as cities go, it's beautiful. As I showed Serene around last week we were talking about this. It is big enough to have everything you need, and is small enough that you know where to find it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So generally in a city this size, taking public transportation you would find a random assortment of people every time. Well that's what I thought. But I don't live downtown. I live in a small residential area called Artxanda, known for its hilltop location overlooking the city, and with the beautiful views the restaurants where many couples go to get married. When one says "Artxanda" though, it's not the views or the restaurants that come to mind. I've come to realise that "Artxanda" is synonymous with "lover's lane" in Bilbao. From sunset, the road leading up to Artxanda is lined with parked cars. If the people in the cars were to look out of their steamed-up windows, they would have a beautiful view of a city surriounded by mountains, with a river running around the edge, the buildings lining it, a mixture of old and new.... but they're otherwse occupied.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Artxanda has very few residents. Probably less than a couple of hundred, I don't know really. It's more of a neighbourhood than a town or suburb. There is one bus between Artxanda and Bilbao. It runs a circular route, once an hour. I've never seen it full, and I've gotten used to seeing certain people getting on. I know the regulars, where and when they get on and off.... Obviously, so does the bus driver. Today we had a driver who I haven't seen in a couple of weeks. I guess he was either sick or on vacation. Either way, there was a regular who got on a few stops after me, and she was happy to see him and gave him a kiss on the cheek. How cute!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There's a lady who comes on the 2 o'clock bus with her daughter who has Down's Syndrome. The daughter talks to everyone on the bus and always has something to laugh about. She never wants to get off when it's time, and usually another passenger has to come to the mother's aid to gently push and slide the daughter from behind while the mother pulls her by the hands out towards the door and out of the bus.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There's a lady who comes on the bus in the morning and the afternoon. She seems to have problems with her neighbours, and the bus seems to be the only place she feels comfortable shouting at them and venting her problems. When she gets on, I usually make sure I have my walkman on and headphones in place.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There's a guy who catches the bus in the evenings. He looks Arab. I want to say hello to him in Arabic and talk to him a bit, but I always lose my nerve.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A girl who lives next door catches the 9 o'clock bus most evenings. She never talks to anyone. Yesterday, she nodded slightly and acknowledged my presence for the first time. I feel like I'm making progress.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;David, the neighbour from 2 doors down, and a friend of Neisan's who I helped with preparing for his English exam comes on the bus periodically. We usually chat for the whole trip home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are various old people (there's an old-folks' home opposite our place) and young people (mostly students at the culinary academy near the end of the route). Not many people in between, I suppose they all have cars....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6638159-110797012209059651?l=insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com/feeds/110797012209059651/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6638159&amp;postID=110797012209059651&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6638159/posts/default/110797012209059651'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6638159/posts/default/110797012209059651'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com/2005/02/bus-community.html' title='The Bus Community'/><author><name>Krisia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03746222871170523486</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://static.flickr.com/76/192953712_c8af85065a_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6638159.post-110780430536817901</id><published>2005-02-07T21:07:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2005-02-07T21:26:12.180+02:00</updated><title type='text'>VI'S COMING!!!!</title><content type='html'>A week from now, I will have spent a whole day and be well into my second day here in Bilbao with Violetta.&lt;br /&gt;She arrives at 5:45 a.m. on Sunday and will stay with me until February 17th, when we will both head to the beautiful city of Barcelona, and spend a few days together there. I am so excited!!!! As I walk around Bilbao, I try and see things the way Vi will see them. I can't wait to see this city that I've fallen in love with and come to think of as home as described by Violetta.&lt;br /&gt;She's arriving by bus, so I know she will be tired when she gets here, but it will be Sunday morning, perfect for checking out the bizarre bazaar that is the flea market in Plaza Nueva in Casco Viejo. That's the place where you can buy things that most people would call junk. It's kinda scary sometimes, you look at the stuff arranged on a table and you know this guy is selling the contents of a house he robbed recently. One guy was selling used car radios... come on! Cellphones without sim cards? find them at the flea market! However, this flea market is also a collector's dream. There are stamp collectors, gem collectors, coin collectors, old book collectors, dirty magazine collectors, and whatever.... In the `plaza itself, groups of people congregate to trade trading cards of different types, other areas contain makeshift pet stores selling birds, turtles, goldfish and other pet paraphernalia, and near to them you will find people who are owners of new litters of kittens or puppies, looking for adoptive parents. I go there looking for books in English, and sometimes I even find them! The atmosphere is really fun though. I am sure most people aren't there to buy. Just to drink in the crowd while sipping at their red wine or a glass of &lt;em&gt;mosto&lt;/em&gt; in one of the jillions of &lt;em&gt;barras&lt;/em&gt; that line the plaza.&lt;br /&gt;Speaking of &lt;em&gt;mosto&lt;/em&gt;... I discovered it a few months ago. I have yet to find out what the difference is between &lt;em&gt;mosto&lt;/em&gt; and &lt;em&gt;zumo de uva&lt;/em&gt; (grape juice). &lt;em&gt;Mosto&lt;/em&gt; is grape juice. However if you go to a bar and ask for grape juice, no one has it. If you ask for mosto, they always have it. It is served in a tall glass with ice and a slice of orange. Always. And it's always the cheapest thing on the menu. If a coke or nestea is 1.50, the &lt;em&gt;mosto&lt;/em&gt; is almost always less than 1 euro, often 80 cents. I don't get it. But I like it :o)&lt;br /&gt;So tip for non-drinking travellers in Spain who want to save a few centimos... drink &lt;em&gt;mosto&lt;/em&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6638159-110780430536817901?l=insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com/feeds/110780430536817901/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6638159&amp;postID=110780430536817901&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6638159/posts/default/110780430536817901'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6638159/posts/default/110780430536817901'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com/2005/02/vis-coming.html' title='VI&apos;S COMING!!!!'/><author><name>Krisia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03746222871170523486</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://static.flickr.com/76/192953712_c8af85065a_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6638159.post-110780325637357705</id><published>2005-02-07T20:48:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2005-02-07T21:25:18.436+02:00</updated><title type='text'>My Blog Is Boring</title><content type='html'>I'm bored of my blog. I can't believe you're even here reading it. It is totally lacking in substance, interest, humour, depth, and pretty much everything.&lt;br /&gt;It's not that my life is devoid of substance, interest, humour, depth etc, it's just that I haven't felt like writing about it. There's a lot of stuff I'm going through as part of moving to a new country, learning a new language etc. Most of it is fun, but hard to describe. The stuff that is easy to describe is the stuff that is not necessarily positive, and borderline backbiting, and that's a border I want to stay away from. So for now, my blog will probably remain boring and dull....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6638159-110780325637357705?l=insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com/feeds/110780325637357705/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6638159&amp;postID=110780325637357705&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6638159/posts/default/110780325637357705'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6638159/posts/default/110780325637357705'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com/2005/02/my-blog-is-boring.html' title='My Blog Is Boring'/><author><name>Krisia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03746222871170523486</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://static.flickr.com/76/192953712_c8af85065a_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6638159.post-110693476246468736</id><published>2005-01-28T19:33:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2005-01-28T19:52:42.463+02:00</updated><title type='text'>According to my profile...</title><content type='html'>I boredly clicked on my blogger.com profile. Narcissistic? Maybe. I occasionally Google myself too, just to see what comes up.&lt;br /&gt;I was born in the year of the tiger. I think that's cool. If someone told me all the possibilities of animal names of years for the Chinese year thing and I had to choose one, I would definitely choose tiger. The years are Rat Ox Tiger Rabbit Cat Dragon Snake Horse Ram Monkey Rooster Dog and Boar. If I were born in the year of the rat, I probably wouldn't be writing anything about it. Tigers are cool though. Dragons are a nice second choice.&lt;br /&gt;I really don't believe this stuff though. I just found out my tiger horoscope for today:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Your spouse will have much to do to endure your changes of mood. Take good care of your feet. At work, you'll be more realistic, more careful and pragmatic than ever. In family, you'll be surrounded with warm affection; you will achieve an understanding of rare perfection. Know that you're a unique being -- you don't have to act like everybody else.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. I don't have a spouse, so yeah, no.&lt;br /&gt;2. Take good care of your feet... ummmm ok. Random.&lt;br /&gt;3. At work... ha! I have been unemployed for ages. In fact, maybe the take good care of your feet comment has something to do with the fact that I've been pounding pavement for months job-hunting....&lt;br /&gt;4. Hmmm family, warm affection, rare perfection. Well that's nice. I love my family. I'm helping my mom with some cards, so maybe we will accomplish rare perfection...&lt;br /&gt;5. Unique being... Dude... I know that already!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So all in all this daily horoscope thing is mostly wrong. I could be a daily horoscope writer. It must be fun to make this stuff up. Almost like writing the copy for the back of product labels. You can pretty much say anything you want.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is my overview for the upcoming year of the rooster starting february 9th:&lt;br /&gt;Eager for action, the Tiger may instead be surrounded by harmony. In order to turn their energy into useful channels, they must join cultural clubs or participate in different debates and seminars. If an occasion presents itself, they will have an interest in discovering new countries, civilizations and peoples still unknown to them. Their trips will stimulate their thinking and help them acquire wisdom.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The character summary for tiger people is kind of interesting too.... I read it &lt;a href="http://chinese.astrology.com/tiger.html?ice=ast,scopes,mssc&amp;arrivalSA=1&amp;amp;cobrandRef=0&amp;arrival_freqCap=2"&gt;here&lt;/a&gt;. Read yours if you want... If you're bored.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;(for entertainment purposes only. InsideKrisiasHead cannot be held responsible for anything resulting from any adviced followed as a result of reading this blog or reading anything on the links from this blog, or the links from those links. In fact, InsideKrisiasHead is totally irresponsible. I'm just bored and writing stupid garbage. If you really want something to do, read &lt;a href="http://Threeleggeduck.blogspot.com"&gt;Violetta's blog&lt;/a&gt;, or look at &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/18929289@N00/"&gt;Ryan's pictures&lt;/a&gt;. Now go, get a life.)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6638159-110693476246468736?l=insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com/feeds/110693476246468736/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6638159&amp;postID=110693476246468736&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6638159/posts/default/110693476246468736'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6638159/posts/default/110693476246468736'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://insidekrisiashead.blogspot.com/2005/01/according-to-my-profile.html' title='According to my profile...'/><author><name>Krisia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03746222871170523486</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://static.flickr.com/76/192953712_c8af85065a_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
