Breeze-a-Phobia

It's midsummer and the temperature is in the 30s every day. As many of
you know, I hate the heat. I hated it during the summer months when I
lived in Bermuda and submerged myself in the Atlantic ocean as often
as possible to excape it. I hated it when I was living in the
Caribbean and it was all year round, either a dry, dusty, fly-ridden
heat, or a wet, muggy, mosquito-laden heat - but heat, every day of
every month. In Israel I convinced myself that it was all worth it
because I was in the proximity of the holiest places on earth, but the
heat there for much of the year was unbearable as well. I managed to
survive by dousing myself with cold water every 15 minutes or so while
I was at work in the greenhouse, and the rest of the time trying to be
in as many air-conditioned places as possible. Now I'm in Istanbul.
Fortunately, all the classrooms and the offices and the teachers' room
are air-conditioned. Unfortunately, the air-conditioner in the
teachers' room has given up and blows smelly lukewarm air (from
lord-knows-where) around the room. The school is in the middle of the
city, so it's not like there's a lot of open space and breeze. The
windows that do open, open out over the noisy street, or into a weird
closed shaft between our building and the next (the bathroom windows
also open out into that shaft, and the air-conditioners vent their hot
air into it making it not such a good idea to open those windows).
It's not really a problem though, beacause I go into the classroom
with my handy remote control, and set it up to cool me down. Then the
students arrive. Invariably, someone will walk into the room and make
a signal as though they have arrived at the north pole in February
wearing a bikini. In my quest to be an effective English teacher, I
don't accept the little charades as acceptable communication and make
them express their thoughts in English. Responses range from "Here
very cold" to "Can you turn off the air conditioner please" and
everything in between. At first, as an inexperienced teacher, trying
to please my students, I used to capitulate and let one of them be the
air-conditioner remote controller. In one class it got ridiculous,
when the person with the remote would turn it on, someone would
complain, they would turn it off, someone else would complain, or I
would start sweating, and they'd turn it back on... this continued at
a frequency of about 7 or 8 times an hour. And the air conditioner
makes a beeping sound whenever you press the remote. That system
lasted a day.
Anyway, at some point I realised that the problem isn't just the a/c.
Turks don't like anything blowing. It's as if moving air is something
to be avoided at all costs. Hence, the same problem occurs in a
crowded minibus. You sit down and a million people crowd in, and the 2
windows that can open on the whole bus are only opened to about 2
inches. If we go onto the highway, they are closed completely. It's
crazy! Taxi drivers also express their displeasure when I open the
window, but in that case I can just pretend I don't understand....
So it's hot. I'm hot. Luckily my flat is cool and breezy. I can't
invite my students over on a hot day though, they'll probably go
around closing the windows and saying that they will get sick. Dude,
what would they do if they knew that I sleep with a fan on me on high!
When it gets really unbearable, I dampen a sarong and wring it out,
then drape it over me. Breeze and water - enough to kill a Turk!

it's been a while!

I'm here having a ten minute break. For each hour of class that we
have, we actually teach for only 50 minutes then have a ten minute
break. So a 3- or 4-hour class that starts on the hour actually
finishes at 10 to. Somehow, by some freak of scheduling, I am now
teaching 3 Pre-Intermediate classes, and one elementary, plus an
intermediate private student. 2 of the pre-int classes are at about
the same polace in the book. At first I thought it would make my life
easier, plan once, teach twice.... however, with my sucky memory I
seem to be forgetting whom I've taught what to. Hehehe I said whom. I
like saying whom. I don't use it with my students though, the pre-ints
and elementaries don't know about that yet. too much at once and they
could self-destruct!

But anyway, I feel like I've always been here. There is no longer
anything unfamiliar about the place. My flat is homey - I'm living
alone right now which is really nice. My neighbours are friendly, the
men in the shops at the corner know me. The mussel-man in the street
said I can pay anytime I want. I haven't taken advantage of his easy
credit system yet, but it's nice to know it's there. I don't have to
keep loose change for mussels if I don't want to. my students are (for
the most part) really sweet and nice, and most of them are good
students as well. The weather is getting hot, but my flat is cool and
breezy all the time. Something to do with the oasis outside the window
I guess, and the uninterrupted plain beyond it. At school the
classrooms are air-conditioned and I've managed to find the exact
setting that pre-empts the shivering motions and requests to turn off
the a.c., while still keeping me cool and collected. Incidentally,
most people don't seem to understand the concept of a thermostat. I
used to have the setting at 23 degrees celsius, that's a good 3
degrees above comfortable room temperature. After a few minutes,
everyone would complain that it was too cold. Geesh. I realise that at
24, it cuts off at just the moment they are about to complain that
it's too cold (in fact, sometimes they try, but by the time I make
them ask me to turn it off politely in proper English, it cuts out :o)
and at the moment when a bead of sweat is forming on my forehead (and
theirs) it cuts in. Turks are breeze-a-phobics. I'll explain this
later.

Midye Dolmasi

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.

Midye Dolması

Midye - mussels
dolma - stuffed

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.
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.
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!
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....

Every now and then...

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!
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....
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.
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.
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.
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.

Friday Night - Cuma Akşam

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.



Resimler burda! Resime tıkla ötekileri görebilirsin.

Rubbish Cart Men

I just asked the people in the teachers' room "What's interesting
about being in Turkey?" First answer was the rubbish cart men. What
are the rubbish cart men? These are random guys, who walk around the
city going through the dumpsters and collecting stuff. I know, most
cities have the equivalent, but here it's a bit different. Upon
further discussion, we've determined that there are actually two
types. There's the old junk man, who collects literally anything -
pieces of wood, wire, metal, old light switches, and other random
stuff. His cart is more like a table with big wheels, and it appears
that all his stuff is for resale. He also walks down the street
shouting "ESKIJI!", somehow managing to make that word into 6 or 7
syllables. I guess at that point people would go outside with their
old stuff and give (sell?) it to him. Eskici (pronounced es-kee-jee)
means "old-stuff man" literally. In Turkish you add ci (jee) to the
end of stuff to mean "the person who sells/makes", So "dondurma" is
ice cream, and you go to a dondurmaci to buy it. Ekmek is bread and
the ekmekci sells it. Those of us here who speak English, quickly
adopt this convention and we start talking about people like the
juice-ci who sells fresh squeezed orange juice, and the telephone-ci
who will help you with a sim card for your cellphone....
Anyway the other rubbish cart men are the ones who go through the
dumpsters removing recyclables. Ok, so in most places you sort the
trash BEFORE you put it in the dumpster. Here there are guys with huge
bags, like the kind they use at sugar factories that hold a metric ton
of sugar (which we used in Israel for the equvalent amount of potting
mix), somehow attached to a dolly so it can be pushed around. I think
there are different categories, one guy who collects cardboard,
another plastic bottles, another glass. They are all over the place. I
think if the separate dumpsters concept were introduced here, a lot of
recycle-cis would be out of work!

The grainiest photo ever.

At the end of the beginner course, one of the students took some pics.
I was surprised to see a camera that had film! It's been a while. Even
more startling was that it needed to be wound after each pic. When was
the last time I have seen one of those!!! Geesh. The result, the
grainiest photo ever! I won't bother to name the people, you can't see
them anyway. I'm the black one! ;o)

Changing Schedule

My schedule changed this week. One of the teachers had a death in the
family and had to return to the US. Two new teachers joined us,
another put in her notice. Sum total of all this change is that my
schedule is completely different. OK, not completely. Fortunately, I
still have my weekend afternoon Elementary class, my favourites. Did I
mention that they all passed their end of beginner exam with flying
colours? Only 2 students (of 13 who took the exam) got under 85%, and
the majority got over 95%. Impressive? I think so. I was so proud of
them!!!

So now, I still have Mondays and Wednesdays off. Tuesdays I teach for
only 2 hours! That means that in 3 days, I only teach a total of 2
hours. I like that! I'm considering Tuesday as my planning day, so I
can plan my classes for the week and get ready. Because I teach so few
hours in 3 days, it means that all the other 25 or so hours are
condensed into 4 days. Pretty hectic. But cool. I have 2 company
classes now. So I take a minibus to the company and teach them. They
are both in a place called Umraniye, about 30 minutes away from the
school. One company is a communications network company. They have a
couple of months a year when they don't work (although I don't know
why this is) and instead they do English classes every morning. I'm
sharing this class with another teacher, Eda. I had them for the first
time today, and they seem really nice. Since the job is paying for the
class, and they have nothing else to do during that time, their
attendance is really good, and they really work hard. That's nice to
deal with. The other company does something else, I'm not sure what, I
believe it's something to do with medical equipment. Maybe as a
speaking exercise I can get them to tell me what the company does!
They are also really nice and Intermediate students. So that's cool
because I can plan once, and since one company is a couple of weeks
behind the other in the material, I can use the same lesson plan for
the other in a couple of weeks. I also have an Intermediate private
student on weekend mornings. I will meet her on Saturday for the first
time.

The other class I have is a PreIntermediate class on Friday evenings.
I taught them their first 2 classes, while my flatmate, Lydia, was out
sick. Apparently, one of the students (rather tactlessly) suggested to
Lydia that she teach my class (at the time I had 2 private advanced
students) and I teach hers. Oops. I think they like me a lot. Lydia
was kind of upset about that for a while, and it didn't help to find
out that she would be teaching them Mondays and Wednesdays and I have
them on Fridays!

On the home front things are going well. Lydia and I have settled into
our new flat. I'm getting to know the neighbourhood. There is a small
group of boys who play in the street every day. They like talking to
me and have started calling me "abla" which means big sister. One
asked me yesterday what my name is and I told him Kris, so now when I
leave home they all say "Hello Kris Abla! How are you?" In Turkish of
course! It's so cute. They're between about 7 and 10 years old. The
man in the shop on the corner is also very friendly, as are the
neighbours. I make sure and say hello to everyone. There is one old
lady who gets on my nerves though, every time she sees me, she calls
to the kids in the next lane to come and look at me. As if I don't get
stared at enough already! geesh! She means well though, and told me
the other day that I was very cute and had a nice smile - maybe
because I was purposely not smiling at the time? hmmm.

I've been exploring the neighbourhood. We live on a small road
parallel to the main road. There are about 4 apartment buildings on
each side of the street, and thw two roads at each end intersect ours
perpendicularly, forming and H shape, with our street being the short
cross line. At each end of the street we have a small grocery store,
and since we are just about in the middle, they are both about 25
seconds' walk away. Very convenient! At the top of the road on the
left, there is a university, high school and primary school. Because
of the university, there are also a lot of cafes and restaurants. But
to get there, it's a short walk up a very steep hill. At the bottom of
said hill there is a mosque. From the living room balcony there's a
great view of its only minaret. Luckily the volume on the loudspeaker
system is not overly loud, like many I've heard, so the call to prayer
is more pleasant than disruptive. However, I've noticed that all the
dogs in the neighbourhood howl during the prayers. It's kind of like
they are singing along. Kind of funny in a very irreverent way! It
freaks Lydia out a bit....

The weather is warming up. I've never been one who is anxious for
summer to come, though so this isn't huge news for me. I wish it could
stay like it is now, about 24 or so during the day, dropping to the
mid to upper teens at night. Is there anywhere that is like that all
year round? Nothing compares to Hamsin in Haifa though! Dude! I don't
miss that at all!

We've Moved!!!

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

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

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

Being Different

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

Ishikawas in Istanbul (and other things)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Demonstration!!!

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

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

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

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

2 weeks

I've been here for 2 weeks already! Time is flying.

I'm still living in a hotel, however our new flat will be ready for us
on Tuesday!!! Yayyyy!!!!!!!
All my classes are going really well. I am getting ready to teach my
beginner class this afternoon, and they are my favourites. During
their conversation activity, my intermediate class told Lydia that
they really like me, and last night, one of my two private advanced
students said that they had been talking about me, and they've had a
lot of teachers so far, and I'm definitely one of the best they've
had. In addition to being liked, I think I'm also managing to teach
them English, which is the real success!
I worked 25 hours my first week, 29 my second and I'm going into my
3rd with a schedule for 31. It's a lot for a new teacher, but since
the classes are 3 and 4 hours long, it doesn't take as much planning
as, say 30 hours of one hour classes. Planning 4 hours is the same as
planning 1 hour!
I've got more pics to upload, possibly later. I have just switched
with Alex for conversation practice with the upper intermediates, so I
have to go get ready.
Oh yeah, and Happy Ridvan!

Schedule

I keep missing people's phone calls because they are calling while I
am in class.

Here's my schedule as it stands right now, but subject to change...

Monday and Wednesday off.
Tuesday and Thursday: 9:30 - 13:20, 13:30 - 14:20 and 19:15 - 22:00
Friday: 19:15 - 22:00
Saturday and Sunday: 13:30 - 14:20 and 14:30 - 18:20

Please don't call me during those times. I won't get your call.