Gym folks go bowling

Gym folks go bowling
Originally uploaded by Krisia.

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 here and check out the others!

Santa's a little strange in Turkey...

Santa's a little strange in Turkey...
Originally uploaded by Krisia.

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.

Whatever the explanation, Santa definitely looks different in Istanbul!

Duygu

Duygu
Originally uploaded by Krisia.

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

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....

flatmate, and her boyfriend

flatmate, and her boyfriend
Originally uploaded by Krisia.

This is Rebecca and her erkek arkadaş, Cengiz. He's a sweetie.

flatmate

flatmate
Originally uploaded by Krisia.

I realised that I have pics of the cats but none of my human flatmate,

Rebecca. She's from Oxford, England. She's the best flatmate in the world

:o)

Coffee Cups

Coffee Cups
Originally uploaded by Krisia.

I had my last lesson with my weekend class on Sunday. On Saturday evening,

they came over for dinner. They presented me with a gift, these coffee cups.

They are the small ones, designed for Turkish coffee (espresso or demitasse

cups). They're gorgeous, 6 different colours, gold rim, square instead of

round, very unique and pretty. They told me to think of them when I use

them, which I will :o)

Me and the Senior Education Adviser

Me and the Senior Education Adviser
Originally uploaded by Krisia.

Now that there are no other education advisers, Halil has promoted himself

and is now known as the Senior Education Adviser (a.k.a. Superman) :o)

Savaş and Barış

Savas and Baris
Originally uploaded by Krisia.

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.

We named them according to their characters, rather than their genders :o)

Crowded in the Bus

Crowded in the Bus
Originally uploaded by Krisia.

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!

Roman Ruins

Roman Ruins
Originally uploaded by Krisia.

Roman ruins in Thessaloniki.

A Thousand Words....

A Thousand Words....
Originally uploaded by Krisia.

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)



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!!!

Lonely Planet and Budget Hotels

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.

 

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 "hotel" 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) tea with the (handsome) receptionist guy, and headed off to explore the city and get my bag from the cloakroom of the other place.

 

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!

 

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.....

 

 

It's all Greek to me...

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 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.

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))))

Anyway, at 7 yesterday morning I headed to Sirkeci to catch my train.

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 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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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 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 "dirt cheap") so I knew that I would have to leave.

This morning I woke up and had the continental breakfast included in the price of the hotel and grabbed some maps and headed out.

Thessaloniki is a beautiful city! I realised then that I know not a word of Greek, except for what I heard on "My Big Fat Greek Wedding" which was a great movie, but not necessarily a very good language class!

Fortunately, everyone here is very friendly. Last night in the truck, reading the signs in Greek and English, 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.

This requires a separate entry.

Bayram

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 "Iyi Bayramlar" instead of "Trick-or-treat".

Let me tell you a little about my first morning of Bayram....

 

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 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. It turns out he has a drum over his shoulder. I then realised that I was standing face to face with the Ramazan Drummer. 

 

During Ramazan, those who are fasting wake up very very early to have breakfast before the call to prayer indicating sunrise. In order to have time to wake up, clean up, pray, prepare breakfast and then eat, they get up quite early, somewhere around 4 a.m. if I remember correctly. However, 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 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 is awake. Thank you very much. People who are not fasting are not figured into the calculations here. Therefore, for a month, every day at 4 I was awakened by the Ramazan Drummer. Of course by 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.

 

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.

 

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....

 

Next Bayram I will be prepared with my candy!

 

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!!!

Gym Jam

(I started this entry about 2 weeks ago now, so just add 2 weeks to all time references in the first 2 paragraphs)

 

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.
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 trainers, and somehow it comes up that I play the violin and guitar. One of them 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  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.

On the 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.

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 "performers" 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 a violinist, guitarist and singer now... it's so weird. People at the gym now refer to me as "the singer" (in Turkish of course)....

That was the Gym Jam!