English Lessons

For the past few months my friend Kenzie and I have been teaching an English class. I am sure this must worry all of you reading my blog and noticing more than a few errors. Sorry! There is so much editing I can do before I would become disgusted with my writing or never actually put posts up.  Anyway, I have have been passing on my excellent grasp of the English language to the five women in my class, and I actually think we did a pretty good job. I'm not always sure about some of the grammar rules and when I break things down for them I sometimes feel like English is just a big mess, but they are getting the hang of it. These woman aren't studying to take the big test at the end of high school, they are studying for when they travel, or so that they can help their children become fluent. That gives us the freedom to teach them things that will come in handy on a daily basis, not what the present perfect continuous tense, whatever that means, is. Plus it helps that the woman are so nice and they put up excellently with being taught by a couple of teenagers. They bring us coffee and treats, and focus while we teach them. They even came to see us preform our dance and me give my speech at my high school. When I first started teaching the class, I as so excited. I truly believed that we had power to really make an impact on these woman's lives. If we helped them better their English then maybe they could get a better job, or help their children move up. Part way through I became sort of disillusioned, they were missing classes, and not studying and though I still enjoyed teaching them it started to feel like more of a chore. When they started slacking off, we started slacking off as well, not putting at much time into our lesson plans, or explaining things as clearly. In the end though, we pulled through and I think we all got something pretty great out of the class. These English classes won't be a deciding factor in their lives but it was a chance for them and us to get to know an age group that we wouldn't normally interact with from a different country.


A week ago we had our last dinner and said goodbye to them for who knows how long. They said they wanted to come to the states, maybe even do some kind of exchange with the students they teach at the elementary school. Though I know it probably won't work out, I really hope it does. The whole time we were teaching them it felt so funny for them to call us "teacher", probably because they all have about 10 years on us, but I think it was also because though we were teaching them English a case could easily have been made for them having been the teachers. They corrected not only our Turkish but explained things about Turkish culture, and were one more window into Turkish life. After six months of four hours a week lessons, it was sad to say goodbye.

Ailem

In less than a week from today I will be at the airport in Adana, getting ready to board a plane to begin my trip back to the United States. That said, let the sentimental blogging begin! I can't believe how fast this year has gone by, it doesn't seem at all like I left ten months ago, but as the seasons come full swing I can see the differences.

For one last trip with my host family before I leave, they took me to Maraş a city about three hours north-east of Adana. My mom's brother lives there with his wife and daughter, and we stayed there for a night in September on our way to the village my host mom grew up in. Like last time we were supposed to continue on to the village but the trip was canceled. I was disappointed that we weren't going back there, I thought it would be nice to see the comparison between then and now. Then I knew nothing, now at least I know some, but I liked getting to see Maraş. It is a really old and surprisingly beautiful city. Lots of open shops and trees surrounded by brownish-red hills and dotted in the center by a castle that sits above the rest of the city. We went, my host mother, Dilşad, grandmother and grandfather, and great aunt, on a hot Saturday and with four of us squeezed into the back it felt like a long car trip. We only spent one night, most of it in their home, eating and drinking tea. We did go to the old section to buy more things, to stuff my already over-stuffed bag. I bought spices, dried eggplant and peppers to make a Turkish meal, a rolling pin , and at my host mom's encouragement, a pair of shoes though that is probably the last thing I need. Most of the time in Maraş I filled by playing with their precocious daughter Liya, we went through her children's book and she taught me words I didn't know. Even without such a high language barrier like before, I still find myself sitting awkwardly sometimes, not really sure what to do with but for the most part I enjoy being around my family here, and I think they like having me. They told me that they had gotten used to my being there and considered me as part of the family. They say I dress more like a Turk, they love it when I wear skirts because Dilşad never does, and that my Turkish is excellent. Though the real test of whether I have adapted to being here does not ride on the way I look, or the way I speak, but really, on how well I can make a pot of Turkish coffee. Ok, that's an exaggeration, but it is taken seriously. Perspective brides make it for her potential fiance's family, and it is made for most guests.  I liked it from the beginning but the past few months  I have started making it a lot, for myself and host mom or friends so I am pretty confident, but making it for my host grandparents and great aunt was nerve racking. Turks are kind but they don't coddle when it comes to making Turkish food properly which is good and bad. I carefully scooped the coffee and focused only on it while waiting for the grounds to thicken at the top and the rest to boil. So when my great aunt (the most critical one) declared that it was well done, and I am officially a Turkish child (though I shouldn't watch the tray when I carry it, and I should serve from oldest to youngest) I blushed with pride. "Eline sağlık" (health to you hands) they said,  "Afiyet Olsun" (bon appetit) I beemed.


After along trip back from Maraş a city a couple hours north of Adana we went to our family friends house to go for a swim. It was about 9:30 by the time we actually got there but at this time of year Adana never gets cold, and it was an especially balmy night. Jumping into the cool water brought me right back to my first night in Adana with my new family. An hour or so after arriving in Adana over ten months ago we went to  the same friends house and jumped into the same pool. Completely unaccustomed to the heat that hit me when I stepped off the plane and onto the hot pavement of Adana's airport there was nothing better than being submerged in the quiet water. Back then I knew almost nothing about my family, Dilşad spoke with me in English but it was sort of awkward, and my host mom and I couldn't exchange any words at all. After swimming in the pool that night I quickly feel asleep on the couch, exhausted from travel. But last night I sat on the porch with my host mom, sister, and their friends and ate fruit, sipped tea, and talked. The difference is astonishing, less because I can now speak, and more because I feel so comfortable around all of them. It's natural, Dilşad making fun of me, me trying to translate my retort quickly and usually to no avail and then my mom and her friend defending me. It all feels so normal now, part of the routine, which I guess is why it doesn't seem at all real that I won't be part of it anymore.

With my immediate family, Dilşad and my host mom, Nihal things couldn't be much better and a small but important sign of that is the names we use to identify each other . She introduces me to people as her daughter and only if asked explains that I am an American exchange student. When she is talking to me she calls me aşkim (my love) or charlottecim (my charlotte) and in turn I call her anne or annecim(my mom). Dilşad usually refers to my as kardeş (sibling) or fil (elephant), a slight at my weight gain here.  I'll miss sitting around with them eating dinner, or watching TV and honestly I think they will miss me, especially Dilşad who will have nobody to make fun of.

Kına Gecesi

On Friday I had to give a speech and do a performance with all the other NSI-Y girls at my high school graduation. I'm in 11th grade this year so why we did it at the senior graduation I am not really sure, but I can tell you that I was not looking forward to the performance. In fact I was dreading it because even if everything went perfectly well, it would still be very very embarrassing, and that it was, but not as bad as I thought it would be.

The speech was to say thank you to all the people that have helped and influenced us this year, and the dance, well the dance was...I'm not really sure what the dance was for, entertainment? Last year the foreign exchange students at my school did something from Shakespeare, but we were roped into doing something a little bit more localized, a very traditional Turkish song and dance. It is called the Kına Gecesi, and it is a dance that they do around a bride the night before her wedding. The song was based off a girl who a very very long time ago was married off to a man who lived in a village a few hours away from her family. Basically the man was really terrible and beat his wife and because the woman lived so far away from her family she couldn't visit them. She begs her family to come and see her but they don't come until she gets really sick and is on her deathbed, she sings the song about her life just as they get there to watch her die. So, for some reason this is the song they sing right before weddings and everyone cries, and for a more obscure reason, we were singing it for the graduation. Believe me, it's not as weird as it sounds. Turks love to hear foreigners speak their language and sing their songs, it's very much that 'watch the monkey dance' kind of thing. Anyway if that weren't bad enough I was the only one who had to do the speech by myself because I go to school alone, and the head AFS person from Istanbul was coming to watch my speech. Not to mention that it would be in front of the entire senior class, all my teachers, and anyone that came to watch the graduation. Needless to say, I was very very nervous.

The night of the performance, I  was struggling to keep my composure as the seats filled up and we watched the seniors file down the aisle. They, the seniors, were sitting on the back of the stage on these sort of steps, my teachers to the side, and the audience in front, so I was pretty much surrounded. We all had these hands free sort of microphones that looked like something Brittany Spears might wear which was pretty cool, but it kept slipping around and just added to my anxiety. Plus after my speech I had about five seconds to change before we went on to do the song. I kept it together for the most part. I was super nervous, and definitely stumbled over more than a few words, but I made it through. I talked in my speech about my first few days at the school, learning Turkish with the help of my classmates teachers, friends and family. I thanked my teachers and told a few funny stories about mix ups and embarrassments, and talked about how much I have grown to love living here. The dance went off with only a few minor hitches, the tie on my skirt thing that goes over the Jasmine-esk pants kept slipping and I stepped on it every time I moved. Fortunately the dance itself is not complicated at all, it is basically just us walking around a chair where the bride (Kenzie in our case) sits. The challenging part is the song, I was worried that our voices would be too loud and sound terrible, but it actually sounded alright.Overall I guess the night was a success!

When my host mom turned on the video later -my real mom paid my host sister to film the whole thing, though Dilşad would have done it anyway-I had to leave the room. It was so embarrassing to listen to myself speak and it sounded to me like a lot of mistakes, but the feedback I got was very encouragıng. The Turks who heard it were really impressed, though I can't tell if that was because they are still shocked I speak any Turkish at all, or if it actually was good, but I did my best. I am happy that at least in some small way I was able to show my appreciation to all the people that helped me this year. And hey if the speech made both my real mom and my host mom cry, then I guess it is a success!


I'm not sure if you can watch the videos, they are from Dilşad's facebook, but here are the links!


Speech: http://www.facebook.com/home.php?ref=home#!/video/video.php?v=410897608088&ref=mf

Dance: http://www.facebook.com/home.php?ref=home#!/video/video.php?v=410906268088&ref=mf

Exploremak-ing

At some point this year while struggling through writing an essay for my Turkish class, I wanted to use the verb, to explore but I simply couldn't muster up the energy to look it up in my dictionary. Instead I added the suffix -mak to the end because every infinitive verb in Turkish ends with either -mak or -mek. It wasn't the first time we have experimented with Tinglish and certainly not the last, but it has a nice ring to it and Rebecca brought it up again this weekend when we were able to do a fair bit of exploremak-ing.

 Saturday afternoon Rebecca and I set out at a leisurely pace to do something a little bit out of the ordinary, to take the train to Tarsus. The train trip is a little under and hour and at about $2 you really can't find a better way to travel. Tarsus is the birthplace of St. Paul and is a very historical city though a lot of that has been destroyed in the past couple thousand years since St. Paul was there. We didn't have any idea where we were going but we had some idea of what we wanted to see and figured we would play the rest by year. We ended up stumbling across this ancient Roman road that I had read about in my guidebook. There we found a very unhelpful man working at a information booth, who while I the watered plants, retrieved maps for us. We also found our way to St. Paul's well where I stole some water, hopefully St. Paul won't take offense. We wandered through the old streets and were talked to everywhere we went. A group of women invited us to join them for tea and a little girl on her bike offered to give us a tour. We did join the women for tea and when the little girl left us she said that she was delighted to have done it, and she meant it. For such an ancient city they don't seem to see a lot of tourists, to me it sort of had a desolate, post-apocalyptic feel to me. We also visited Cleopatra's Gate which has little to do with Cleopatra herself except that it is said that she and Mark Antony met in Tarsus. At St. Paul's church (built in the 19th century, so also little to do with St. Paul) we ran into a group of Americans which was exciting!I got pretty sick on the way back, probably from not enough water and too much sun but nonetheless it was a successful day! 
The next day, we went on another adventure of sorts. One of the the AFS leader's husbands planned a trip for us to Karatepe National Park and the surrounding areas.It was originally planed for us AFS girls but because three of us are away visiting with our families that left just Rebecca and I, our host families, Kenzie's host family, and an assortment of other Turks. Karatepe itself is an open-air museum on a site which has been inhabited for almost 4000 years. It was a pretty beautiful little hike, though it was REALLY hot. Jeans were a really bad choice on my part. Though it was cool to see ruins that date back to the 13th century, if felt a little bit like a sculpture garden, all evenly spaced  out along the paths. We spent the rest of the day visiting ruins in their more natural settings. An unceremonious roadside stop led past some small houses to one of the most awesome arches I have ever seen. Through the arch you come to a big field littered with columns and other remnants of the Roman era in Turkey, it was amazing. The edge of the field meets steep cliffs that crawl up to a castle on a steep rocky out cove. We felt the presence of the Hellenistic period castle as Rebecca and I scurried around the hills surrounding it. The Turks gave us a hard time for being unsafe but we couldn't be bothered, it was so fun! We scampered from one unguarded ruin to the next like mountain goats enjoying the scenery and picturing what took place there hundreds and hundreds of years ago. It was terribly hot, but totally worth it. The best part was either laying down in what we believed to be thousand year old tombs or climbing rickety scaffolding to the top of the arch. It was a wonderful day and just went to remind me of how much Turkey has to offer!

On another note, home in less than a month!

Istanbul'da Bahar

The time that Ebba was here was sort of like an alternate universe. There we were,a Swede and an American speaking Spanish in Istanbul, a city I have spent practically no time in this year. It was a wonderful universe to be in though, and I miss it already. Ebba and I were in Istanbul for lovely five days, and we were able to see a lot. We stayed with our friend Mertcan who was also on our exchange to Spain. It was nice to see the a more residential area of Istanbul because it is a HUGE city and those parts tend to get missed by travellers. Plus his family was super sweet and seemed to enjoy having us there. Mertcan lives on the Asian side, so to get to the European side we took various different methods of transportation. During the day we took the bus and then the ferry, the quickest way to cross to the European side, and at night, buses or mini-buses called Dolmus. Depending on the traffic it could take anywhere from 45minutes-2hours to get to his house. The ferry boat ride was beautiful though, a little picturesque boat that crosses the sparkling blueish-green water. We spent most of our time on the European side though because that is were the main sights of Istanbul are located.


Sultanahmet is home to some of the worlds oldest and most famous sights, such as the Aya Sofya and the Blue Mosque. If you had been with Ebba and I as we toured these places in awe you too would have been subjected to listening to me read excerpts out of the guidebook, just as my mother would have done. Ebba and I had no real agenda except that we wanted to see as much as possible of Istanbul without ever feeling rushed, and for the most part we accomplished that. We were able to see most of the main sights-Istanbul has and endless amount-with the freedom to just wander around. One day we wandered from the Kapllı Carsı (The Grand Bazaar) down the hill towards the water and ended up in this very quiet little neighborhood completely empty of all tourists. We sat down at a quaint cafe with roses on the colorful tables and drank tea out of pretty glasses. The friendly old man who owned the cafe immediately switched the roses on our table for prettier ones saying that pretty girls needed pretty roses. It was exactly the kind of place you hope to run across in a city like Istanbul, a place that holds onto the past without effort. We enjoyed our tea in the quiet and then asked for directions back to the center. Turns out we had wandered so far away that the easiest way was to take the train back. The owner of the man reminded us that there was plenty of food and tea, and absolutely no rush, before pointing us in the direction of the train. I love being able to wander comfortable, not because I think we won't get lost, but rather Becca's there is no reason not to get lost. We had no idea where were going a lot of the time, and when we wanted to set ourselves straight I would just ask somebody.

We spent a fair bit of time in Taksim, the center of new Istanbul. It starts at the main square and then you can follow Istikklal Caddesi past tons of European shopping and little roads that lead off like veins from a leaf. There is a ton to do and see there and it seems to be the place to be when it comes to nightlife. I think one of the best parts about Istanbul was being able to communicate in Turkish. It was so fun to respond to the constant stream of comments from vendors and people on the street in their own language. After even just a couple words in Turkish it was instant astonishment. In Spain I felt like it was pretty normal for somebody to speak Spanish, but here it is so unusual that they seem kind of flattered that I am trying to learn their language. Almost everyone asked how I spoke it and where I was from. Ebba was a good sport about my speaking Turkish all the time, and reminded me from time to time that I needed to translate for her.


It is hard for me to believe that exactly two years ago I was on the same timeline as I am here, with only a month or so left to go. I realized after talking to her I am in a  similar mindset to when I was in Spain. Just like then I feel like this year will go on forever, contrary to the evidence. This place has just become so much a part of my every day life that I forget that in no time at all I will be back on San Juan Island. It is a bittersweet feeling, on one hand I am really excited to get home. I look forward to seeing my friends and family and being back on the Island. On the other hand though, I know I will really miss living here, even if that reality hasn't exactly caught up with me yet. For now though, I am trying to be as present as possible, enjoying each moment here.

Friends and Family

On this Sunday morning I am the only one awake, Dilsad has already gone to her lessons, and my host mom and our guests are still asleep. This is usually the case on weekends, I get up at around 9:00 or so, make myself a cup of coffee, and read or write my blog. It is nice to be awake in the quiet. Today though there is one big difference, last night there was a wedding last night and we have some relatives staying with us, and I have a guest as well. My friend Ebba is here visiting from Sweden. Ebba was on the same exchange as me to Spain in 2007-08 and she was one of my best friends there. Though I lived in Barcelona and she lived in a city called Mataro about 45 minutes north we were able to meet up all the time. We explored all over Barcelona and had a bizillion adventures. Many of which we giggled about last night. Her being here reminds me that thought there are inevitable similarities between my exchange to Spain and my exchange here, my life was so different. As is the Spanish way we had a lot of freedom, and we took advantage of that. That is not to say my life was better there, but just starkly different.


She arrived last night at about 10:30 and hurled into the Turkish lifestyle. A bunch of family was over after the wedding so like always we sat around drinking tea and chatting, well not so much chatting as yelling to be heard over one another. They were all curious about Ebba and for the first time I was doing full on translating in Turkish. The tricky part is that Ebba and I used to speak Spanish together, and it is a real challenge translating from Turkish to Spanish. I get it all confused and end up speaking Turkish to Ebba and Spanish to my host family, so eventually we reverted back to English. It was pretty funny, my host family kind of just yelled at Ebba, thinking if they spoke loudly enough she would understand and told her how much they loved me and how I was part of their family, it was really sweet and Ebba took it all in stride. It did make me feel good about my Turkish though, nothing makes you realize how far you have come than seeing somebody who can't understand anything.


We stayed up till about 3:00am or so chatting and reminiscing about our friends and families in Spain, and catching up on the two years we have missed. I can't believe that I left Spain almost two years ago, and talking to Ebba it doesn't feel like it. I am so excited to show her around Adana, well mainly just show her the food I have been eating for the past eight months. I guess we will start this morning as we have another family meal to attend. Then on Wednesday we will go to Istanbul for five days! I can't wait to explore that city!

Looking Forward to May Flowers

Last week I reluctantly awoke at the ungodly hour of 6:00am to go for a run. I had no desire to pull myself out of the warmth of my bed especially since I had woken up to the sound of thunder, a sure sign of rain, but my friend Kenzie was waiting. It started drizzling as soon as we left the overhang to of my building but what choice did we have to go, we had already woken up. So we set off, barely a car on the road, trying to avoid the dogs that roam the streets in packs during the night. It felt good to be running outside instead of the basement where my gym was, but the thunder and lightning were foretelling and slightly intimidating. Sure enough it wasn't long before it was pouring rain and we were drenched almost immediately. I considered turning around but Kenzie wouldn't hear of it, and it wasn't terribly cold. We ran past the train tracks in the direction of the Toros mountains. We ran past a man with a little road side stand in what seemed like the middle of nowhere, he looked at us like we were completely crazy. We ran past the big fair building and up a hill just as the sky let loose a round of hail like little pebbles that bounced off our skin. As we got to the top of the hill we could see out see over the sprawling valleys that led to the base of the mountains. We stood still for a minute but soon felt the cold creeping into our bones and ran back the way we had come. The man on the side of the road yelled to us that we would get sick and offered to let us sit under his tent but we waved away the offer and ran home. By the time we made it back to my apartment I was completely drenched, and with each step my feet squished. I was as quiet as possible as I slipped through the door, all was silent and I thought I had gotten away with my crime-that of getting wet-which of course makes you very very ill.


I thought I had gotten away with it but my host mom found my sopping wet clothing from the run and forbid me to run until the weather gets nice. I honestly don't think my host mom has ever forbid me to do anything before, she just kind of suggest that I don't, so I don't. You wouldn't argue with my host mom either. But it wasn't long before I was caught in another Adana-style flash flood.


Kenzie, Sahalie and I had finished teaching our English classes and were killing a bit of time before we had our Turkish class, and what better way to kill time than to get a bite to eat. We went to one of our favorite haunts a Turkish bakery called Kardeşler (brothers), they are all over the place, on almost every block you can catch a smell of the pastries and bread wafting through the air. We bought these delicious fried dough balls that are then soaked in syrup call Lokma and just as we sat down the rain started thundering in. The noise of it was amazing bouncing off the tin roof, we could barely hear make out each others voices. Everyone in the cafe positioned their chairs facing the big glass doors as if were some enthralling movie, or a soccer match. People without umbrellas huddled together under any overhang they could find and even those with went as fast as they could. As the cafe filled up with people in various states of wetness it began to feel like we were all in this together, like we may never get out and like Lost we would all become friends. Apparently we weren't the only ones with that idea, these girls came over from a table of a big group of kids and just sat down at our table, as if they were people we knew that had just gotten up to go to the bathroom. It was funny and slightly awkward but mostly nice. They were around our age, still in high school, and had noticed we looked like foreigners so decided to talk to us for a while. We talked about school, what we were doing there, where we lived, etc. I love that in Turkey is is perfectly normal for people do sit with strangers without any explanation whatsoever. People are friendly here.


We had hoped that the rain would stop before we had to go to our Turkish class, but it seemed if anything to be coming down harder. The roads had turned to rivers and the cars threw up jets of water as if a parting the sea. I had my trusty U of Chicago umbrella but Kenzie and Sahalie were just in tee-shirts. It was only two blocks to our lessons but enough to attract the attention of everybody we went by. Crossing the road there was water up to my shins, and cars driving by splashed water up to our necks. The rain drenched Sahalie's hair until the ringlets stuck to her face as she squealed and danced through the rain. We giggled uncontrollably as ran by people standing under the awnings, and they yelled at us to take cover. By the time we made it to our Turkish class we were soaking, only to find out it had been canceled due rain induced road closure. We sat in a cafe close by and sipped hot Turkish Coffee as we willed our clothes to dry. Rebecca and Sophie were already there and laughed as we came dripping into the warmth or the cafe and Sahalie actually dumped water out of her flats. We sat there for a while and the rain died down only slightly before we decided to get home. One of the guys at the cafe graciously offered to pay for us because that too is pretty normal here.


The rain has been fun and exhilarating. I like how here it pours for only a few hours at the most unlike at home where is can be constant rain or drizzle for days or weeks. After these storms though, I am looking forward to may, the rise in temperature and the flowers that my host family and I planted to bloom on our balcony to bloom.

Rolling up our şalvar and getting our hands flowery

Throughout the past eight months (eight months!!) we have had a lot of opportunities to eat, and I mean a lot, but not nearly as many to learn how to prepare the food we were devouring. A hospitable Turkish person will cook you as much food as you could possibly fit into your stomach, and do it happily, but when it comes to sharing the secrets of the deliciousness it proves to be a bit more tricky. I think it's less out of wanting to safeguard their secretes and more out of a 'they know they can do it better, so why produce anything less than perfect' attitude. They pride themselves on their food. So it was a nice change to try our own hands at one of my favorite meals, sıkma. I have talked about this meal in a past blog, so this may become repetitive, but bear with me.

Sıkma, as one of my friends wrote so eloquently is like the Turkish equivalent of fast food. Don't get me wrong, Burger King and McDonald's are all over the place, but this very old practice of making sıkma has been around for ages and you can still find the stands, and watch the process done mostly the same way all over the place. So that (I will get to exactly what that is in a second) is what we set out to learn one sunny afternoon. We got out of school early and were taken to a part of town that I have spent almost no time in this year. The part of town that you think of when you picture Turkey; colorful two story apartments covered in ivy, children playing in flip-flops in the street, garage doors opened exposing a wealth of colorful items for sale, men drinking tea on low stools, women in headscarves and flowery pants, and a liveliness and color that I don't feel as much in my neighborhood or lack there of. As we entered the courtyard greeted by a jolly looking woman with red, round cheeks we marveled at our surroundings, it was so pleasant. A compact courtyard with a big tree providing shade was bordered by a small, quaint house. The women there kissed our cheeks and showed us into their home. There was a flurry of commotion as they pulled out şalvar (these sort of loose, cloth pants where the crotch hangs about down to your knees) and colorful headscarves for us to wear in the process. We spread  table clothes and carpets  out on the ground in the courtyard and began our first tutorial on sıkma 101.

Sıkma is made quite simply, first the dough mixture (flour, water and a tiny bit of salt) is kneaded for ages, then pulled off into round more or less 2 by 2in balls that are then rolled out into large, flat, thin, circles. Sounds easy enough but getting the ball to roll out into the flat circle proved to be far more challenging than the experts made it look. They roll it out on a low wooden table that they fold their legs under and use a long, thin, wooden stick as a rolling pin. Mine started off ok, but quickly took a shape of their own, one resembled the batman sign, though apparently perfection will come with practice. After they are rolled out thin they are put on sort dome shaped flat grill, that has an open fire underneath. I can't imagine the people that do it all day because just to flip a few, it was unbearably hot, not even my şalvar was protecting me.  Using the flat stick to flip, you watch it crisp. The women whose job it was to flip did not part easily with that stick, but gradually she became accustomed to it, or maybe she just suffered thought it knowing we would give up eventually. Apparently I was alright at it because the the matriarch said that I would make a good wife, which I took as a compliment. After getting it nice and crispy the butter butter is spread, and the various toppings of cheese, spinach, potatoes, or sugar are added. All that is left to do it enjoy!


We stuffed ourselves to the brim and then spread out like cats in the shade of the courtyard until it was time for dancing, because really it wouldn't be a Turkish afternoon without some traditional dancing and me making a fool of myself. The older women seemed to enjoy watching us and teaching us a few moves. At one point one of their sons came home and it's possible that they were trying to marry me off, such is life. All in all though it was a pretty wonderful afternoon and it was good practice as a I get more and more into the idea of starting a sıkma stand for this summer every day. Watch out for that!

The Things They Sent

As a continuation to the post I wrote about my experiences at the post office I thought I would explain why I (and my family) go through so much trouble to get these packages. Getting real, tangible mail while in the states is fun, getting packages  is a billion times more exciting, and getting packages while abroad is exponentially  more exciting than that. Packages from home include little bits of the place you come from, and it is nice to be reminded of that and to be treated to the things I miss. Over the nearly two years I have spent in foreign countries I have gotten a large variety of things through the mail, and spent a lot of time at post offices picking them up. Some of the things are necessities and boring, some are exciting, some make me nostalgic, and some are just weird, thanks mainly to my mother. Here is a list of some of the more memorable things I have gotten in my time abroad.

• I love getting books! This year I have gotten a lot and though it pains me, I will probably have to leave some behind.
  

• Both my parents sent me Annie's Mac and Cheese in recent packages and I have been working hard to ration it. I made it for my host family, and they didn't seem to really understand why five boxes of it had shown up. My host sister said it was plain, and that I could make something similar to it here. Needless to say I will not be wasting it on them anymore! 
• While in Spain my dad sent a beautiful, hand made cribbage board, and tucked into the little place for the pegs he slipped in $100. 
• My friend Mollie recently sent these beautiful postcard sized pastel drawings she made, on the back of each one she wrote a different note. They are right above my bed here and I love looking at them as I fall asleep. 
• While in Spain, Howard and my grandma sent a paperweight from a town in Germany(I think) and I can't think of anything I needed less, but became attached to throughout the year, and couldn't bring myself to leave it when I left. 
• Shelle sent me the most beautiful paisley PJ pants that she made herself, I wore them all winter! Among other things she also sent Starbursts and M&Ms which I grudgingly shared with my American friends and host family. 
• The silliest thing I ever had sent was probably my snowboarding jacket which I convinced my  mom was necessary even though snow very very rarely hits the ground in Barcelona. The real reason was that I just couldn't stand to see Lizzy wearing it in pictures. I never wore it once and had to have it sent back at the end of the year because I didn't have room for it.
  
•  I had my dad send me makeup me because I lost mine on the plane ride over here, he drew the line at sports bras though.
• He also forwarded me a twin survey the University of Washington sent which included a pamphlet telling me that being a twin is special, 5$ included! 

  My mom has sent by far the most packages and every single one comes with the most bazaar things, though I love getting them. Some of the best include;

• A Michel Jackson video saying that she wanted Dilsad to learn the moves, she was ecstatic.
• Throughout the year in Spain my mom sent various cards from this deck of daily saying cards for life. They are these thick, square, illustrated cards that say things like, take a deep breath, feel the nature outside and try to replicate that calmness inside of yourself..or something along those lines. They were nice to decorate my wall with, but I had no idea what to do with them at the end of the year.
•  Mini-lip glosses
• Trader Joe's bags, which have actually come in really handy, Dilsad uses hers for the gym
• LOTS AND LOTS of family pictures, the ones of Lizzy riding her horse where cherished
• A pink cheetah print Betsy Johnson makeup bag (she actually brought that one to Rome, along with M&Ms and peanut butter)
• Bright orange and blue nail polish 
• Black leggings with jewel decals all over one side:)
• Many copies of the Journal (has the barefoot burglar been caught yet?)

As listed I have received a variety of wonderful things through the international postal system, and sent a few good ones myself, (if you would like a postcard, I would love to send one, all I need is your address!) because there is nothing better than a package. I am sure that I have left out some good ones and I may add to and revise my list. I am looking forward to a birthday package from my mom and there are a few things I hope are included;

• Lizzy. Nothing like a birthday to remind me of my little Bizzy so far far away. You would think I would forget all about it without the countdowns till queen Lizzy can celebrate the day she was born. Thankfully facebook exists, and I am reminded almost daily.
• A cake made by our own Mary Elford
• Anything made my Jane Burton Bell or Shelle Cropper
• All of my other family and friends that I will miss being around this year

If none of those things make it in the package, mom, I will understand and I do look forward to all the other great things I am sure are in there! I will keep you all updated.

 As I side note I also added a few pictures to the past couple of blogs, take a look!

Additions:

• As my sister reminded me I forgot the camera charger! That made it's way back from Rome with Lizzy instead of me, then to Turkey, and due to some malfunction, back to the United States, and then resent to Turkey. I now use it all the time:)

Gündoğdu

Yedi ve bir yabancı ( seven and one foreigner) my classmates answer when asked how many kids are in our class, and for all intensive purposes I am a yabancı. I don't have to take tests, fill out the multiple choice exams that they do in all of our classes and I am certainly not preparing to take the big ÖSS exam that they will all be taking at the end of their senior year. That is not to say that I don't make use of my time, I am catching up on all my children's books by reading them in Turkish. I am proud to say that I am now working on a chapter book! I spend a lot of time at Gündoğdu, and I like to think that getting use out of so much free time is a good lesson in time management.

Our classroom, in the basement of the Gündoğdu building, is far too big for the eight of us but it leaves us room to pull our desks into different formations or push them to one corner or another. At the very top of one side of the class room there are a couple of large windows that look out at ground level outside. On the opposite side there is one big window that looks out onto the hallway, but for some reason unknown to me they have made tinted it so it is only possible to see into the class room and not out, hence the nickname aquarium.  On sunny days I stare out wistfully at the little children playing in the big open courtyard and wish to be out of out of my little yellow fish tank and enjoying the wonderful weather of Adana.

As I said there are eight of us which is very small classroom, in Dilşad's there are over 20, but I have really come to like my classmates. I have gone through several stages of comfortableness  with them, but I think we are at a pretty good level. I can talk to any one of them and not feel to awkward, and they in turn have become comfortable with me. One of the girls, Başak, tells me about her boy problems and Can my favorite kid in the class and I have very joking relationship. It has been a gradual process but I think there were two times that I realized that I have actually become friends with them.

Once was at a class dinner, we went with two teachers to a Kebop place and I wasn't really looking forward to it but it turned out to be really fun! My classmates were way more dressed up than me but I felt like part of it, and that was nice. We talked and took tons of pictures and I rarly felt out of the conversation. The only weird part of it was that they were all drinking Raki and insisted I do the same, my teacher actually ordered it for me. It was a little different coming from the States where that wouldn't ever happen since out of my class I am the only one legally old enough to drink here, but hey, this is Turkey.

The second time was a slightly less fun experience. It was a normal school day and we were just milling about moving our desks to another part of the room for like the third time that day. The desks are the kind where the desk part and the chair part are connected by a couple flimsy bars, to make a very un-sturdy desk. The back edges are rounded which makes them prone to tipping backwards, so usually I am careful, though apparently not careful enough. When I went to sit down the entire chair and desk flipped backwards and the next thing I knew I was on my back staring up at my converse. The stuff I had spread across my desk went everywhere, and unfortunately I had decided to wear the school uniform skirt that day. It took me a couple seconds for my class and I to get past the shock and then there is nothing to do but laugh. Nothing but my pride was damaged and the girls in my class immediately told me about the times that they had been victims of the flawed desks, and of course the boys just laughed. Though I was embarrassed it passed relatively quickly and by the next period I though it was hilarious. Because we are so few and I have been able to talk to each student separately I'm not embarrassed around them. My history teacher making me get up and talk in front of them every lesson has helped get me past that.

Sometimes I feel like more of a pet of theirs, I do tricks and play around. They show me off and take credit for my Turksh abilities. It doesn't really bother me though because I really do feel like one of the fish in the aquarium, granted a slightly different colored fish.

Alman Köprüsü

Last week my host mom arranged for us to have a little picnic. Now, I realized a while ago that a the Turkish "piknik" is not at all the same as the picnics I am used to . A"pikniks" usually includes a barbecue, sausage, a pot to make tea over the grill and Raki (the national alcoholic beverage of Turkey). There may also be a lot of driving and little to no walking. I wasn't really sure what to expect when my host mom told me we were going to the Alman Köprüsü (German Bridge) but the other Americans were coming and it was supposed to be pretty. I had no idea where we were going, I thought the bridge was in Adana which turned out not to be the case at all, it was over an hour drive. So goes the life of an exchange student, we almost never have any idea where we are going, which is kind of nice, a sort of surprise.

We pulled off the road at around midday, and the second we got out of the car we started sweating. It was so warm! I feel as if I looked away and summer showed up. As I write this it is about 8:30 and I am sitting on my balcony in only a t-shirt and jeans, something that on San Juan even in summer is  rare. We were all a little bit giddy getting out of the car because the surrounding sight was so beautiful! The drive out was nice too, lush green valleys and rolling hills, but the view of a small gorge with a clear blue river rushing down was so gorgeous. As we started walking in we were amazed that so close to Adana was such a beautiful sight and that we had not only never been there but had never heard of it. We only walked for 20 minutes or so along the water, but the trail kept going. We were eager to explore but our host mothers turned us back to the car. I think we were so excited because it had been so long since we had spent time in nature. It is fun to live in a city but coming from a place as visually and naturally beautiful as San Juan Island it can feel a bit desolate.

After the mini-hike we went the actual Alman Köprüsü that was built about a hundred years ago for trains to pass, and it still used today. It is a beautiful stone bridge and I've read that it was built over a century ago, but I was never able to get a clear answer.  We ate lunch in a nearby village where one my host moms friends showed us around and who's family made sıkma, a very yummy Turkish meal. Sıkma is dough that has been rolled out into a very thin flat circle and then cooked on a sort of dome shaped grill heated from beneath. They use a long stick to flip it over and over again. After being fried they add cheese and butter, potatoes, or a spinach mixture and heat if up again. Sometimes they are made with sugar or honey as a dessert and they are equally delicious. My American friend Sahalie and I are planning on making them this year at the fair if we can work out the logistics!

All in all it was a pretty wonderful day, and the cherry on top was getting a package from my mom without even having to go to the post office! Being outside and seeing some more of the beautiful and natural things Turkey has to offer was a nice change and  got me excited to see some more, hopefully that will be possible in the next few months.

Pazarlar!

"BEŞ YÜZ, BEŞ YÜZ, BEŞ YÜZ!!!"
It's sort a joke we have in our little American circle this year, and sometimes we pull it out to amuse the locals who find it pretty funny. The quote translates literally into "FİVE HUNDRED, FIVE HUNDRED, FIVE HUNDRED!!!," which actually means 50cents and vendors  yell it out to attract the attention of people walking by. This is extremely common at a pazar, known also as a bazaar they are large markets filled to the brim with cheep goods. They sell everything there from sheets, silverware, sport wear, food, hair clips, abercrombie knock-offs and so much more. It is not all that common for people my age to go, they prefer to shop at the stores downtown, but my fellow Americans and I love them.

My host mom took me to my first one way earlier on in the year and I was overwhelmed and in awe. There are just so many people all over the place that you have to push your way to get through. It was sensory overload as there are so many different smells, good and bad, and man, the COLORS! The different hues of the goods combined with the white tents and blue sky was amazing. Plus everything is so cheep. I bought one of my favorite dresses there for the equivalent of $5, and everything else is of similar prices. There are definitely things of pretty bad quality but there are a lot of gems if you have the time, patience and willpower to look.

sekiz A sekiz B

On my way home from the center of Adana the other day, something wonderful happened. I was sitting next to a woman on the bus who was chatting with a few other women, all of whom were dressed pretty conservatively and wearing headscarves. I observed the women for a few moments becuase people watching is the best way to pass time on the bus and then went back listening to my ipod. About 15 minutes into my 35ish minute ride home one of  the women turned to me and asked if I knew my way around Turgut Ozal, the rode my bus goes on. I know it pretty well riding it almost everyday to and from my Turkish course and told her so. She asked if I knew a restaurant that is on the way back and I told her my stop was after and I would tell her where to get off. She thanked me and when the time came I pointed out where to go, she replied iyi aksamlar (good evening) as she and her friends left the bus. Though it seems like no big deal, for me it was exciting. Giving directions in a city is the equivalent of translating from one language to another, like evidence that are fluent in the place you live. When me as a yabanci (foreigner) was able to give directions to a person from Adana it was proof that I am living in a place that at least in some ways I can call home.

 From living in Barcelona and Badalona I discovered what a joy it is to learn your way around a new city. Some of my most memorable days were wandering around Gracia or Barrio Gotico on spring days and discovering new cafes and shops. Adana is admittedly very different than Barcelona but I have enjoyed learning my way around this city. There have of course been some minor missteps, but that is half the fun of figuring it out. Once Rebecca and I decided to take a break from our normal 8A green bus and took a dolmuş, a sort of small bus, and ended up on an unfamiliar street. It didn't take us long to find our way to the right bus but our mini-adventure was exhilarating. We realized that we had finally made it to that point in Turkish that if we were lost or needed help with something we could ask for it.

Even on San Juan I enjoy giving directions, and can remember clearly the times in Barcelona I was asked where to go.  Part of why its seems like a such a big deal to me is probably because I grew up in a place so small that I rarely had to ask for directions and when I did they were given in reference to places like 'the Jangard's house' or 'the rock.' Here, I am not really asked for directions, most likely because my hair color tends to attract more questions on where I come from rather than where to go. So when mistaken for somebody that looks like they actually might be from here or know where to go, I soak it in.

There are many definitions of when and how you call a place home. In some respects I feel that I have never been able to call a place home like I have San Juan, but I would also claim to feel at home in my 5th floor apartment in Adana, Turkey. Giving directions, especially to a place I pass everyday, is no claim to being a local, or even knowing my way around the city but it does feel pretty good to feel like I am getting a handle on my surroundings. After seven months one would hope so.

Sitting On My Balcony Feeling Fortunate

My weekend is rapidly coming to a close, and tomorrow I will be back to school ready to face the new week. Sahalie, my fellow blond, and one of my American friends is staying at my house. Her host mother is in Azerbaijan (a trip we begged to go on) and because my host mom and her host mom are good friends they sent her to live with us for ten days. It is nice to have her here and especially good to have somebody to go to the gym with while Rebecca, my usual companion is in Istanbul with her natural family.

Friday was a welcome last day of the week, and we got out early to teach our English classes. It was a big day because Kenzie and I had prepared a test for our class. From giving a test I feel like I had a bit of an insight to how my teachers back at home felt on test days. First, I realized that it is not only hard for the students. I was worried that if the test was too easy they wouldn't try as hard from now on, but if it was too hard they would become discouraged. Fortunately, though I felt like it went really well, Kenzie came up with some really good questions, and we now know what they do and don't understand. I take the class probably why more seriously than I should, but I really enjoy teaching them.


Saturday after eating a ginormous Turkish breakfast we hit the gym, and had a good workout. I have been a bit embarrassed lately because the man who owns my gym asked me the other day if I had beer in my Klean Kanteen. I guess they are not that common here. Though really, who would work out while drinking beer?

Also on Saturday, we did something very out of the ordinary. We went out in Adana. It took a lot of preparation, and the buildup was extreme, but we actually made it out. It hasn't really bothered me that we don't go out here because it's really not all that common, nonetheless it was a nice change. We, the four of us as rebecca was gone,  arranged it with one of the AFS volunteers. Asking for permission from my host mom was somewhat terrifying because though I really love her I maintain a healthy bit of fear that keeps me in line (not that I'm not afraid of you mom and dad!) It was so unnatural for me to get nervous just to ask if I could stay out till 12:00ish. Eventually, I got up the courage and surprisingly she was ok with it, but just till 12:00, and I don't argue with my host mom. Actually I don't think the prime minister of Turkey would argue with my host mom. It felt slightly like a high school dance, taking more time to choose what to wear than the actual event, but we had a good time.


It was nice to get out, but the best part of my weekend was what I spent at home. With Sahalie, Sophie, Rebecca and Kenzie we have a great time. Also I love that we can be at my house and talk with my family and it just feels natural. I am at home here. I have really felt that with my host mom and sister lately. My host mom jokes with me and calls me aşkım which means love and I feel so comfortable around them. Plus it is so nice that my friends can be over and Dilşad can hang out with us, or not and I feel no strain whatsoever.


Sunday morning we ate and even bigger Turkish breakfast than the day before, with lots of simit, and lounged around chatting for most of the day. When Kenzie and Sophie left Sahalie and I cleaned up my very messy room, and then sat out on the balcony to enjoy the warm air. Adana already feels well into spring and it was a beautiful day. I made us Turkish Coffee and we chatted about our lives here without making any solid points or conclusions but just thinking about all that we are grateful we are to be here. Sometimes all it takes is sitting on a balcony to see that.

Second Podcast

So Rebecca and I have finally gotten our second podcast up! We are still working out some bumps but this one is a little bit smoother and slightly less giggly. We talk about our recent trip to Ankara and Cappadocia, and  about our live here in Adana. We also include a little bit of Turkish! We appreciate comments or feedback, so please feel free to do so! 

Charlotte and Rebecca's Podcast

Türk Yemeği: Kahvalti

I have mentioned the food here in just about every blog I have written, so I though I would dedicate a few blogs solely to Türk Yemeği(Turkish food.) The food here is so wonderful that I can't seem to ever get enough, I swear my stomach has expanded. I am starting with my favorite meal and the first one of my day, breakfast.

My favorite part about the weekend is that I get to sleep in and enjoy a leisurely breakfast which is always wonderful! Every breakfast varies, depending on the season, region, and just what is in your house. Though there are a few things that are almost always included;

Ekmek(break)is the main staple without which would nullify any Turkish meal. Though I don't eat it at every meal, it is always present, school meals included. I love it at breakfast though, and eat it with everything. There is a wide range of breads but they are always fresh and never come in plastic. I love simit, which is a doughnut shaped bread crunchy on the outside and soft and doughy on the inside and all covered in sesame seeds. I love bread.

Zeytin(Olives) are almost always present, and usually there is a variety. Green olives, black olives, brown olives, etc. My favorite olives are these green little ones that are always soaking in olive oil and red pepper spices.

Peynir(cheese) is another main staple of breakfast, and there is also always at least a few different kinds. At grocery stores the delis always have a huge selection of cheeses so I am always surprised and delighted by new ones. Last Sunday we went to a fruits and veggies market and I picked my favorite cheese. It looks like a braid and is reminds me of string cheese though it is salty and delicious. Also on the table is feta and a couple other kinds.

Yoğurt(yogurt) is present in many Turkish meals and in a variety of different forms; Soup, drinks, pasta sauce and the list goes on and on. For breakfast we eat what is called süzme yoğurt and it is sort of a thick unsweetened yogurt. At my house we put it on top of bread and other things though I am not sure how common it is, some of my friends don't.

Salata(salad)is probably the healthiest thing on the table. My host mom usually includes (depending on what is in season) cucumbers, sweet peppers, tomatoes and is dressed in olive oil and spices. Delicious.

Yumurta(eggs) cooked omelets style and flipped to perfection. They are also usually cooked with olive oil, spices and possibly some sort of veggie or sausage.

Patates(potatos) are not often cooked at my house but I always look forward to them when they are. Same sort of thing, spices and olive oil and though I am not sure exactly how my host mother does it but they are SO good.

Reçel(jam) is often present. My host mom's family makes it with the fruit from the village the lived in, and it is really yummy. I love the cherry jam which is not something I ate a lot of in the states but I see a ton here.

Kaymak ve Bal(kaymak and honey) arguably my favorite thing ever, and for sure on the breakfast table. I remember the first morning I tried this and I couldn't stop eating it. My friend Sahalie and her host family was over, so together we declared that every piece was going to be our last. We may have finally gained enough control to stop eating but more likely is that we ran out of bread. Kaymak is (and this is what I understood in translation) the cream that you get off the top when milk is boiled. It is super thick with the most brilliant creamy taste, though alone alright when you add honey on top it is amazing. When my host mom asks if she should buy it I always hesitate, do I really want to be around that?

Nutella or the Turkish version Çokella is common as another sweet thing to spread on breads.

Fındık Ezmesi (hazelnut butter)is not something we eat in our house but I have had it at friend's houses and it is so good. Just as it's names describes it is like peanut butter but more crunchy and less refined. We get peanut butter as well here but it is not the same as in the states, my mom brought it to me from Rome and Dilşad agreed, she has made me promise to send it when I get home.

As I said there could be a wide array of other things but here is enough to wet your taste buds, and mine as well. Fortunately we have kaymak and bal at this very moment! I will continue writing about the food, as I move on to other meals.

Yarın, napacaksın?

"yarın, napacaksın?" This is the question my host mom asks me most nights meaning, what will you do tomorrow? and for weekdays it goes pretty much like this;

My Mondays are like for most people the first day of my week. Also, like for most people I don't generally look forward to this day, but neither do I dread it. I make my cup of coffee, eat my cornflakes, Dilşad waits for my to be ready (just as my sister did in the states,) and we walk to school together. I could sleep in about an extra half hour and save myself sitting awkwardly alone in my classroom waiting for the other students, but Dilşad likes to get there early and I appreciate the time together. Sometimes we don't talk, sometimes I probably talk way too much singing her the Turkish songs I have learned, and taking suggestions for new ones. The walk is only about 7 minutes so it's really not enough time to get on each others nerves.

I try to make use of my time in school by studying Turkish, reading children's books, writing, etc. I am participating more and more in my lessons but certainly not up to their level. My history teacher who I have mentioned in previous blogs still enjoys getting me up in front of the class to answer questions. I enjoy being pulled in to participate but the problem is I really can not understand this man. My classmates think my impression of him is funny, but it's true he speaks in a low rapid grumble, and I can't make out much of it. His classes do wake me up though!

I also joined a gym! Most Mondays, Wednesdays, Thursdays and Saturdays I try to go. I joined for a few reasons. One was admittedly to try to counteract some of the affects of the enormous amount of delicious Turkish food I have been eating. Another is simply for my health, I get very little exercise here since I don't play any sports. It's also nice to add a little variety to my life even if it just means going into a small sort of basement stuffed full of workout equipment.

Tuesdays, Wednesdays and Fridays like always I have Turkish classes. Now that another three of our members have left classes are smaller and though more empty, also more serious. We have been upping the difficulty level, deciding to only speak in Turkish while there, taking tests and pushing each other unintentionally to improve. We now start our weeks by picking a song to sing, dissecting it, and learning it by heart. The first two weeks have been Turkish pop (I will try to find a way to get them online) and the third is a rehearsal dinner wedding song, used to make the bride cry, yeah, it confused me too. It feels good to get more out of our time there and I still really enjoy being with my friends though we do miss our girls.

The newest addition to my schedule has been teaching English. Every Wednesday and Friday at about noon I leave school early to go to the Gençlik Merkezi (youth center) so teach English with to about six women who must be in their late twenties to early thirties. I teach the class with Kenzie, who has been doing it a bit longer than me. I started with volunteering at a kindergarten, trying to teach 15 or so 5-year-olds English, and when I had the opportunity to teach older people, I jumped at the chance. So far, I like it a lot. Kenz joked that my enthusiasm was normal for the first few lessons, and I was enthusiastic. I feel like I have the opportunity to really help these women learn English, and I have been thinking a lot on how to explain things. Teaching English is not an easy task! It reminds me of the English as a Second Language classes I helped with on the island, and I have a whole new respect for both the teachers and the students there. What a confusing language English is!

So there is my extended answer to a pretty simple question. With that, if anyone has a specific question about life here or anything, I would be happy to answer it. I love comments and feedback!

Lost in the Mail

Warning: this is a very long post on what really only occupied a few hours of time.

Throughout this year, for reasons I will get to, the Post Office has been the setting for some of my most embarrassing and frustrating scenes. It has gotten so bad that many of the people there know me and probably, like I do, dread the visits.

 

First a little background on the postal system of Adana. There are a few scattered around the city but only one main office where any packages from outside the country are delivered. Apparently the first day your package arrives they bring it to you house but if nobody is home, as is often the case in my house, they leave nothing and bring it to the post office where you must be physic to know has arrived. If you don't show up in time they send the package back, which has now happened to me twice. 

 I am being a bit unfair to the post office though, the first couple package miscommunication started at a more local level. Somehow between Dilşad and we managed to get one letter in our address mixed up, which caused my moms package to take like three months to get here and my dads to simply be sent home, all this after hours of confusion. This was all frustrating, but it really only added fuel to the flame when I tried to pick up a very small package my sister had sent. 

 I have forgotten a lot of stuff a lot of places in my life, but leaving my camera charger with my sister in Rome while I returned to Turkey was a bummer. The cost to send it express so I could have it in time for my trip to Ankara and Antalya was also pretty bad, especially considering that it is a 2inch box of plastic. From experience with my other packages I knew that I needed to come with a barcode and patience. I first went to the package pick up room which is a small office adjoined to the big main post office. There I gave them my barcode, but was told my package wasn't in the system so I should go to the main post office. In the main post office I was directed to a row of high counters with a few people milling about chatting. When I gave them my barcode number, they told me there was some sort of problem, they weren't really sure, but did I know my address? That is were things started to get rough. I don't know my address because it is about six lines long and full of words I can't pronounce. At this point in very Turkish fashion, everyone wants to help, whether they are post office staff, just sending a letter, know English or whatever, before I know it  I have a group of people gathered around me all trying to explain something I was pretty sure I understood but was now only getting more more confused. Finally, when I was at the point of tears, I made it out believing if I returned with my address somehow it would all work out. 

Though I probably should have given myself a day or so to recharge, I went back that day to get with a friend who also had a package to pick up. She knew this because I saw her name in the three-ring-binder they keep with the print-offs from the incoming packages so you can sometimes see without asking if you have a package. When I looked in that binder again, I saw that I too had a package, one that turned out to be from Shelle, though when I showed the man there my id it ignited the fire. He remembered my dads package and the address problems, and apparently my dads package had been there (about 3 months) until the day before when they had finally returned it home, though my host mom says they are lying and it went back about a month before. He seemed a bit mad, and started yelling at me about all these problems that had occurred, obviously all my fault. He kept at it for a few minutes, and when I was bright red and near tears because everyone in the post office was staring at me he decided to get my new package and help me find the old one. He told me to go to Seyhan, though I had no idea where I was and so he told me to climb over the counter. I stared blankly thinking I had misheard. Climb over the counter? But no, because then he pantomimed climbing over this counter. My friend Sophie and I looked at each other, shrugged, and climbed over the counter. My face was about the color of the Turkish flag. We followed him through a hall and up a flight of stairs where we went into some filing room where after a quick check they confirmed my fear, the package had been sent back to the states. They say it was because there was no name, my sister says she put a name on it. Who knows? but I had no camera charger, fortunately I have great friends, one of  whom lent me her camera for a of couple weeks. Also having a new and wonderful package to open softened the blow.

This is not the end. About a month later, I made my way back to the post office. Already wary I avoided the package office and went straight to the big one. They send me immediately to Seyhan, which I now know is accessed from the other side of the building, and is also the drop off. After exchanging my ID for a beat-up looking card the security card points me to a door, when I entered, I was in the inner workings of the post office. All around me people were dropping off packages, filling mail, or loading their postal bags. I was confused. A nice man asked me what I wanted, when I told him I was looking for this package he didn't respond but asked me if I was from Turkey or Azerbaijan, which flattered and annoyed me, but mostly flattered. I was finally sent to a man named Erken who made some calls, and then wanted my number. Of that I was skeptical, I don't often give out my number and this didn't seem very protocol, but none of this does really. So I tried to give him my host moms so at least she could understand him when he called, I handed him my phone to see the number and he just called himself with it so he had my number. He told me to call him on Monday, which confused me even more, but I said I would. Saturday morning I woke up at 9:00 to post office Erken calling, and immediately passed the phone to my host mom. Apparently he had my package and now all I had to do was pick it up. Back at Seyhan on Saturday, Erken was nowhere to be found, and the gathering of, I swear, every member of the post office started. Finally I just gave up and called my host mom who talked to the men, and my package was found. 

 As I ripped open the tiny envelope and pulled out that plastic charger that I had gone through so much to get, I felt a sense of disappointment. I mean after all there is not that much exciting about a Panasonic DE-A59 charger. I was so frustrated by the postal system which seems to run without rhyme or reason, but comforted by the kindness of the people. I must have heard 15 times that my Turkish was good, and asked over and over what I was doing there. They were curious and anxious to help. It really helps in a place where I know so few people compared to my own little island, when people are as friendly as if they have known you for years.

Turkish

When I found out that out that I had gotten then NSLI-Y scholarship to live in Turkey I was asked primarily, why Turkey? but also a lot about the language. What language is spoken there? Is it written in the western or Latin alphabet? What does is sound like? Not many people outside of Turkey know how to say hello, or goodbye as they do in Spanish, Italian, or German. The reason of course being that it is mainly only spoken in Turkey, a country still working its way up to its full potential. So I thought I might explain a little about  the language, and my reasons for learning it.


Though Turkish is the official language of only Turkey and one of the official languages of Cyprus there are over 77 million people worldwide who speak it as a first language.There are concentrated speakers in Kosovo, Macedonia, Greece, Bulgaria, and Germany which is home to many Turkish immigrants. Also in countries such as Azerbaijan and Turkmenistan dialects of Turkish are spoken. Though Turks push for their youth to learn English they remain proud of their language and the evolution it has undergone to become what is is today. In 1932 Atatürk kind of redid the language, getting rid of a lot of Arabic loanwords and changing the alphabet to the Latin one, (great for me!) though there are still quite a few Arabic words used today.

As for why I decided to learn this somewhat unusual language I have a many reasons yet I am still not 100% sure. I loved Turkey the last time I was here and almost went as an exchange student my junior year, but chose Spain instead.. I probably would have jumped at the chance to learn any new language, and I wanted to take a gap year so when this opportunity presented itself it seemed pretty perfect. I believe that there is a lot to be gained from learning a new language and Turkey is a pretty extraordinary country to do so in. Through learning a country's language it is possible to connect  with the people and culture in a pretty unique way. There is so much about this place and people that I have become very fond of that it would be challenging to put into words. Also just speaking Turkish as a foreigner, especially as an American, Turk  are automatically impressed and excited.

When this year ends, my dad wants to know if I will be able to put the language I have labored over learning to any use, if I will be able to apply it to my job or future plans. I have no idea. I love the idea of having a job that I can use both Turkish and Spanish, but I don't know.  I'm not even sure I will be able to continue studying it. I do know though, one day I will live here again. Probably not in Adana, but Istanbul, Izmir or Antalya are all tempting choices. Though even if I don't manage to make it a big part of my life, I feel in no way that any of this year is being wasted.

So, as a final bit I am including a brief Turkish lesson, if you would like to know how these things are  pronounced (or at least our attempt at pronouncing them correctly,) check out my the podcast my friend Rebecca and I made, you can get to the link a couple posts down.


Merhaba- Hello
Hoşçakal and güle güle- goodbye
Görüşürüz- see you later
Teşekkür ederim- thank you
Sağol- another way to say thank you
Günaydın-good morning
İyi günler- good day
İyi akşamlar- good afternoon
İyi geceler- good night (İyi means good)

Göüşürüz!

Afiyet Olsun!

On Saturday Kenzie, one of my AFS friends and her family invited us for an afternoon barbecue, and since I rarely pass up an opportunity to eat some delicious Turkish food I happily accepted. It was a beautiful springy  day as we sped along the gravel roads that line the lake of Adana. I don't feel that the lake here gets nearly the credit it deserves especially since I would argue that it is the most beautiful part of the city. To get  out to our picnic spot it is quite a drive, past the packed commercial center, past the sprawling apartments, past the little houses that make up the outskirts of town into an area of lush green hills and lakeside restaurants. It would be very picturesque if it weren't for the trash that is pretty much everywhere. It is amazing thought the changes that occur once you make it past the urban areas, it turns into green fields, clear blue water, and absolutely awesome sunsets.

Long before the sunset though, we ate, and I was excited for this part because I was pretty hungry. So when Kenzie's host mom asked "acıktınızma?" (are you all hungry?) I quıckely replıed that I was and being a Turkish mother she immediately started preparing me something. She pointed to a bowl of what looked like ground meet and asked if I would like it in a flour tortilla, I didn't think twice when I said sure. Though as an afterthought I should have thought twice since I really had no idea what it was, but my general rule of thumb when it comes to Turkish food is to try everything and it generally works out pretty well. She handed over a pretty appetizing looking burrito with an "afiyet olsun," the phrase you say to the people who are eating. I knew I was in trouble when my friends giggled a bit but I took a first big bite anyway of what turned out to be lung, sheep lung.


If you have ever had sheep lung you may know that the though first taste is not good, it's not terrible either, but as you continue chewing the it seems to get bigger and bigger and the taste more and more distinct. Trouble is that in Turkish culture you eat what is on your plate and it is pretty impolite to take one bite of something and stop eating. But for the first time since being here I really did not think I could eat any more. I carefully set it down on my plate trying to create the illusion that I would come back to it later. The rest of the food was wonderful, sausage cooked over a campfire then stuffed in fresh bread, çiğ köfte, a sort of raw meat that is wonderful, and more. But every time I looked down at my forlorn sheep lung I felt a guilty. At some point one of the men there noticed that I wasn't eating it and quietly fed it to one of the many stray dogs that roam especially in that part of Adana but it only made me feel worse. Food is a huge part of the culture here, men and women take a special pride in not only their own cooking but the dishes of the country.I'm not exactly sure what I should have done, next time though I will try a little harder to get down a few more bites unappetizing as it may be.

Podcast!

Hello again!

About two weeks ago  my friend Rebecca I were inspired one morning by the podcasts we were listening to, to create our own podcast, and by the end of the day it was finished! Though the process of actually creating the podcast was pretty quick, without notes or a plan, our challenge was putting it on the Internet. Only today did we overcome the challenges of bad Internet, podcast information confusion, and our own general lack of tech-savviness, and get it online! Though we know our podcast is pretty rough we are confident that we will get better. We hope that you enjoy listening to us talk about our experiences here in Turkey and before.  We would also love your feedback, you can e-mail us at crpodcast@gmail.com, let us know what you think! Here is the link:

Rebecca and Charlotte's very first podcast!

 

Thanks for listening! 

 

Back to Cappadocia

As you can imagine Lent is a time not really celebrated here in Turkey, but I am a sucker for any time I get to make new goals and start fresh, so I am using these next 40 days to hopefully create some habits. Among my goals are writing more often in my journal, studying more Turkish, and blogging more consistently. Wish me luck.

I am finally and somewhat sadly back to my normal routine after a few weeks of travels. I returned to Adana after my trip to Ankara and Antalya but I was home for only a few days before I left for Ankara, again. The idea of getting back on the huge, cramped, smoking-bus-driver bus was not extremely appealing but I'd travel much worse in order to see Turkey. The purpose of our trip, me and the other NSLI and YES students, was to say goodbye to three of our group who are now home from their six-month programs. In what was a group of eight their loss is felt. We said a tear felt goodbye to them on Friday night and were then rushed off to a four day camp in Cappadocia.

I must have said this before, but Cappadocia is possibly the coolest place on the planet. Jammed inside this tiny region are underground cities used as far back as 400bc, homes carved into the soft Tufa rock, and natural rock formations that seem so unrealistic they were named fairy chimneys because such wondrous works could only have been made by fairies. And they do seem somewhat magical.

Unfortunately we spent two of our three days in camps talking about everything from our family issues to the reason Turks have a strange fear of wet hair. Though it is helpful to talk about the things we don't like or are having trouble with, I was anxious to get out and explore. The last day was our chance and we saw A LOT! We explored a different underground city than the one I had visited before, and it was a treat. We entered through and unimpressive mound in a hill into an intricate system of tunnels and rooms. At first glance a room may appear to sleep only a few people but with further inspection there are low walls and tunnels which lead to more space and as you continue through there seems to be an endless amount of different directions to turn. There are holes in the ground which our guide explained were for storing jars and small pools that were used for making wine or storing dish water (the underground cities had no septic system.) It is truly amazing, especially considering that they were built for thousands of people.

We also visited the Open-Air-Museum; a place that as I was walking through I realized my family had visited almost six years ago. Cut out of the soft rocks are monasteries side by side each with it’s own fantastic church. It is famous for frescoes that still maintain their original color. Though it was inhabited in mainly the 10th,11th, and 12th centuries as you enter the dark, cool caves and squint at luminescent artwork it feels far more recent. Some were better preserved then others but all of them have the distinct smell of damp cave and unfathomable history.