Turkey once was

Back in a place where I can read signs, ask for and follow directions, deal with money without quick mental conversions, drive, blend in (which after that long, actually feels great), and most importantly speak to fellow human beings and gain my independence back.

I think about that family from time to time and how great it probably is for them to get back to just being them. They’ve had an american girl living with them since May. Judging by my experience and being the second au pair, I can imagine what a relief it is getting rid of the foreigner in the equation. Only 33% of that family agreed to have me there.  I could tell right away I was not unanimous decision.

God knows I feel much more at peace being back home.  It was getting awfully lonely. Of course nothing has changed here, everything is just as I left it. Literally. Its weird to see my desk, my room, in the exact same situation as the day I left. Same things still in the pencil jar. Same clutter on my dresser. Same books. For some reason I thought it would have all changed. As a small reflected image of myself. If I change while I’m gone, why don’t belongings at least get up and move around too?

But this is why it’s home. And that’s why I love it.

My last days were surprisingly relaxing. I visited a traditional turkish bath, called a hamam. It was gorgeous and in the historic district. It was my by-far best “spa” experience. I went on my second-to-last day and loved it so much I considered going on my last day.    http://www.cemberlitashamami.com.tr/hamam_english.htm

Til we meet again

From one hillside to another

I miss the mosques

If walls could talk

When I think of the streets of europe, this is what I think of

One of the first greek orthodox churchs. If my neighborhood church looked like this, maybe I would have liked going

Life off the coast

Nothing does it for me like the bosphorus, the boats, and the mosques. All at once.

My fellow ferry boaters enjoying the ride

Tell the captain to just linger here a while

Alright, everyone suit up and man a tower

My lucky day

And I thought gutting a turkey was gross.

I took a nice sunny stroll around the neighborhood on the lookout for this bayram I’ve been hearing about.  The infamous sacrificial holiday. But since Im posted up in a pretty ritzy complex, I had to go on a search, following the smallest dirtiest roads I could find. And thats just where I found this prize.

Oh, uhh okay. Hm. Wow. The head was upside down? Thanks for grabbing it like a ball and flipping it over for me. Really.

Much better. Appreciate it. Now he's ready for his close up.

It was like a car accident, you didnt want to look but you couldnt look away. Luckily I got to the scene of the crime post sacrafice, otherwise I think this would have ended up a completely different experience. I felt a little out of place being a white girl with a camera imposing myself in the middle of this family’s holiday but I had to. This couldn’t go undocumented. Thinking about it, they probably thought it was funny that I wanted to take pictures of it. Shocking this american girl who’s never seen anything slaughtered. Yeah. They liked it.

I’m glad they decided to keep things sanitary and put a paper thin tarp down. You dont want to take any chances you know. Safety first. And this is happening in a place where you are not allowed to enter a home without taking off your shoes and immediately putting on clean slippers, in a place where floors are washed daily literally on hands and knees, in a place where crumbs are carefully picked off the floor with a clean napkin. But go head darling and slaughter that sheep outside in the dirt. Here, take the childrens play bucket to throw the meat in. They can do without for a few days.

Sweet dreams lamp chop

The holiday lasts for about 4 days. But now its almost over. Its been fun, like a Turkish thanksgiving. Exchanging invitations for meal-get togethers, sending desserts, sharing recipes, bbq’s, the whole nine. Minus the turkey. You think if you were to find a turkey anywhere in the world it would be in turkey. Instead you find this.

Act Casual

I planned to go to Kadir Has University’s art exhibit today. I wasn’t 100% sure where in the university it was so when I got there I just walked in the first door I saw.  The front entrance has metal detectors and those horizontal revolving walk-through things, like they have a sporting events. But to go through you have to scan your university id.

Luckily I walked in at just the right time. I walked through the metal detector, it beeped, no one did anything. Cool, whatever. Oh wait, now I have to scan some sort of card? Well thats not gunna happen. Quick, the side gate is open and the guards are distracted. Alright, now Im in. Just keep walking and act casual. Why do I feel like I’m not supposed to be in here?

I head upstairs following signs to the exhibit I think Im looking for. I pass by what seems to be  an official sign-in table but no one is there.  There’s an auditorium and someone’s speaking. Ooh, its in english. I go in and about 5 minutes later its break time for lunch! This is when I realize this is not an art exhibit, this is some kind of conference. But its lunch time, and Im hungry. Encouraged by my swift moves pass the guards downstairs I decide to eat with the crowd. I’m eavesdropping on as many conversations as I can as we all herd out of the theater. You know, in case someone wants to know my story, I’ll just use someone elses.

Good thing I pseudo-dressed up today. Everyone looks really nice. We all line up to this buffet. As we inch forward Im just praying its something good. Whoa! Score. Dolmas, stuffed peppers, and numerous gorgeous entrees. I get my food and try to sit in the most inconspicuous seat. Another nice surprise, its right on the shore of the Golden Horn. I look around…some people are wearing name badges…but phew, not everyone. I dont feel like this is a good situation to sit back, eat slowly, enjoy the view, and strike up conversation. I really wanted to though. I wanted to see how much I could get away with. But I noticed several people eyeing me since we left the theater. With every bite I’m thinking, damn, I should do stuff like this more often. This was easy.

The food was great. My getaway clean. And the art museum I found later was amazing.

The Soup Story

The whole time I’ve been here, they’ve never bothered or were the least bit interested in doing anything in a way that I’m used to. I guess you could say The American Way. No, this doesnt necessarily piss me off but  I’ve been totally down and accepting of doing things their way, all the time. I feel like I’ve put up with a bunch of shit. Also, to help this story, I need to add that Ali doesnt really care too much for me. He wants help with his homework and studying for tests. He’s made that clear. All he wants is a good grade. Sometimes we joke and call me his sister, Laura Küçükbasmacι (koo CHUKE bas mahjuh) and that really gets him pissy, he doesnt like the sound of that. Like a typical 11 year old, all he likes to eat is meat and bread. I try to get on him all the time to eat his colors. Of course, he hates it. ‘Colors are so gross’

This, plus daily being insulted about my personal abilities and decisions, adds up to the night I decided to make soup. I mean jesus, its just soup, how hard can it be? Plus I’ve seen them make it 100 times. Water and grated veggies. Allright lets do it.

Immediately Omer is critizing everything. EVERYTHING. I dont even want to describe all the shit he was wasting his breath on. Sad thing is this is nothing new. I’ve just started grated some zucchini when he realizes there are no lentils for the soup. I try and talk him down because he freaks out quick. I dont NEED lentils, they arent that essential its just vegetable soup. Ohhh no. He calls the neighbor to tell her I’ll be coming over to borrow some lentils. I didnt even know he did this until he’s half yelling at me why dont I hurry up and go get the lentils next door. Fine. Come back and tensions are rising. I didnt peel the potato and carrots before I grated them..why? Because Omer, that is where lots of the vitamins are. While back I find all my grated carrot in the trash and Fatma grating some new carrots she apparently peeled first. God who even peels carrots anyways, this is nuts.

He’s walking in and out the kitchen pretending to look busy but really I know hes watching my every move analyzing everything I do.  Realizing he is standing staring at me and my veggies I want to turn around and scream ‘WHAT!?!’ but I dont, I’m trying to remain calm. Eventually his 50th F-ing comment was the last straw and forced me to respond. Loudly. ‘Look Omer, I am JUST trying to make some soup. I’m doing what you want me to.  You wanted me to make some dinner and I’m giving it my best shot and all youre doing…’ Here I get interrupted. I’ve never met anyone like this family ESPECIALLY Omer that absolutely loves to interrupt. Just fuel to the fire.

Basically that was my long awaited but short outburst. Right after that Ali comes in and does something I never believed he would do. He’s calling me Sister and putting his arm around me. He’s never once touched me and usually cringes when I try and hug him. “Hey sister! Look sister (points to the soup) we’re eating colors! Yay, colors, its good to eat colors. Sister laura!”

This was huge. He’s actually trying to make me feel better, and saying things I always thought he hated to hear. I think about this every day since. Maybe this sounds petty, or maybe I didnt set up the scene well enough, or maybe I was so emotionally vulnerable right then but I was amazed. Truly touched.

My emotions: “What the FUCK is going on???” I was so angry a second ago and now Ali is saying things I always wished he’d say. I dont know what to feel. Thank god the ‘rents left soon after so I had time to cool myself down and heat up the soup. Plainly put, that nights soup turned out to be very emotional but epic. And no, these tears are not because of the onions.

In other news, I have compiled a few of my favorite photos. Feel free to take a look around.

Grand Bazaar, here we go!

Inside the Grand Bazaar. Traditional bazaars are apparently outdoors. This one, being famous, is a huge tourist trap

Park near a palace

Spice Girl in the Spice Bazar

This is about as close as I wanted to get and as long as I wanted to stay. Phew!

The aqueduct and its partially being restored

Dont mind if I do

How bout a show tonight?

I see an impressionist painting

I'll take THAT one

Old city walls. I absolutely love these.

Yes, this is Turkey. Now if only they were a little lower it might feel like a car wash

What an exact opposite way to sell dolls. Could they be more creepy? I think not.

Turkey Day

50 cent boat ride anyone?

Can I just live on this block please

Is there a reason why we refrigerate eggs?

Turkish 101

So far I’ve been here over 4 weeks. Before I left I didnt even know if their alphabet was letters or squiggleys. Now I got a good few basics down. This may or may not be the case with English, but I’ve noticed they say the same 10 phrases about 200 times a day. If you ever must pretend you speak Turkish I got you covered. In a (premature) list from most said, here goes.

1. Çok guzel. choke goozel/goozar. Very beautiful, very nice, very good.

I cant believe how many times I say and hear this. It works in about every situation, its my fail safe. Constantly heard in the kitchen, so much so that you might mistake this phrase for another word for food.

2. Yok.    No. There isnt any. None.

This one I’m still figuring out. People say this in such a wide variety of contexts its hard to realize how it translates. Its probably like saying ‘negative’.

3. Efendim.      What was that? Excuse me? Hallo?

This one might be specific to this house since everyone talks casually to each other through multiple rooms and floors. Good to use when you pick up the phone, ha like I do much of that around here. The one and only time I picked up the phone Fatma came hauling ass downstairs, “Loda, no!” I thought it was funny, our conversation didnt get much past Hallo.

4. Inshallah.    With Allah’s grace or help.

I would similarize this with ‘Good Luck’ or ‘I hope so’. Supposedly this is a special word that I was let in on. Ooh secret Muslim word..not.

5.  Tamam.   Alright. Okay. Uh huh

Almost equally used as ‘yes’ or ‘evet’. I love it when Ali tunes me out and this is all I get in response from him.

I felt proud of this one, discovered totally on my own: anything that ends in -ek means something related to food. Whether it be bread, the verb to eat, dinner, restaurant, soup..okay maybe not soup. But now this makes me want to tell you about this families eating habits. Prolly goes for all of turkey.

These people go to the market every day. I mean,  every  day. There is no doubt in mind right now the fridge is stocked with tomatoes, cucumbers, yogurt, lemons, and some weird tangerine/lime thing, cheese, soda, and milk. There is also at least one fresh loaf of bread in the cabinet. Bet you 5 lira. I cant believe how much bread and rice they eat. Its truly astonishing. Given it is quite delicious and at times Ive had more than my usual share but I cant compare to how these Turks put away their loaves.

You know those picturesque produce stands with tons of shining colorful fruits and veggies just waiting to be weighed and taken home? Everywhere. And ever heard that joke about the couple who met at starbucks, but not the same starbucks? When they met he was at one starbucks, and she was at another across the street. That joke could easily be translated, just switch out starbucks for produce stand. (Actually, doesn’t that sound like a terrific idea??) Fresh food is just about all they eat here. You cant really buy anything pre-made.  I love trying to imagine how grandma will cook up all this food for us. With what looks like limited spices and ingredients, she’ll turn it into a masterpiece. And you wont even see her do it. If I could speak perfect Turkish for one day I would probably spend most of my time getting detailed recipes from this woman. Either that or kidnap her and make enough room in my suitcase.

 

Islands, Boats, and Benches

A whirlwind of miscommunication lead me to a series of Princess Islands by myself.

For a few dollars you can jump on a boat, sail for about 6 hours while stopping at 4 islands. What? Yes please!  (Evet lüftan!) The whole way were a flock of seagulls flying right alongside our boat. People were even getting them to eat bread out of their hands. Crafty little seagulls. I’ll try not to bore you with all the pictures and videos I took of this.

Waiting to embark, gazing at the Bosphorus bridge

Beats the dock at the neighborhood pond

Gorgeous too, but your guess is as good as mine

Stalling for the next boat on an official Kadiköy bench

The last island is where you have time to get off and walk around. I strolled by seaside cafes, palm trees, ice cream stands, and noticed lots of bike rentals. I think thats because cars arent allowed here. Cheers to bikes!

Ugh, what doesn’t Turkey have?? 2 continents, a natural strait, beautiful weather, countless islands, seas, coffee, rugs, delicious food, beautiful people..and the list goes on. I dont understand how this is one country! Now if I could just speak the language.

So island-y

Here we are!

Fellow island hoppers after they let us loose on the last (but not least) island

Taxis

I can see Asia from here

The navy put on a little show for us as we left

I think next week I’ll take the ferry to the Black Sea.

I do! I do!

We’re going to a wedding tomorrow?? Oh, and we’ll go to Asia the next day? Why do I always feel like I’m the last to know? If anyone is waiting to do something fun around here its me.

I felt like I was in deleted scene of the Wedding Crashers. Walking into this wedding I instantly felt out of place. There was no use pretending like I knew the bride and groom, just look at me…Who invited her?? But dancing and joining in the fun leveled the playing field. Even after being prepped repeatedly about how this is a middle/low class wedding, and “we’ve never been to one of these types before, so dont get your hopes up. How do you say it? Don’t have high expectations okay??” This is a pretty typical comment fromOmer, always with the same goal: I’m smarter, better and more privileged than you.

Of course it exceeded my expectations, how was I supposed to have any expectation of  a Turkish wedding? It was awesome! When we got there the love birds were standing there, balling out of control covered with stacks of gold and cash money. I’ll have to track down the pictures of me dancing with the bride.

Picture? With me??

Guys turn to get down! I was really excited seeing so many guys dance at a wedding, they WERE the dance floor

Everybody now!

A day in the life

Usually my days here are surprisingly casual.

My room is fully lit and awake by 8.  All of us linger around the kitchen eating random bits of tomato, cucumber, motz, and torn pieces of danky bread. And by ‘all of us’ I am now speaking of me, Ömer, Füsun, Ali, and the new Gma and Gpa.

Information that most people would find valuable slips thru the cracks. For instance. From Fusun’s broken english I got: My mother is coming tomorrow. What happened: her mother and father came and are staying for a month, sleeping on random couches in the house (I tried to graciously “give up” my bed for the couch, I really did) But they’re absolutely adorable and Gma would kick ass and take names on Top Chef.

Back to breakfast. Everyone meanders somewhere by 8:30. The cute maid Fatma comes at 10:30. Here we are mid-hazelnut owning

Fatma! You crack those shells girl!

Hazelnut country

The day idles by from this time til about 4 when Ali is back followed by Ömer and Füsun. A few days I’ve ventured downtown. Otherwise I walk around the neighborhood, swim, read, google, and try to bond with Fatma. When Ali done with school and done expelling all the left over energy from school, I help him with his english homework which is usually worksheets of vocab. Or sometimes we read the books I brought and write down random words he should remember. We also work on reading comphrension and pronounciation. I still can’t get his attention as well as his dad does. Little frustrating, but its teaching me about teaching, which is nice.

I also love to listen to the conversations around the house because everyone sounds so angry when they talk. It’s actually kind of funny. But a few times they do get pissed, I like to try and figure out what the hell is going on.  When I’m downtown my English radar is on high alert. I just relish in listening to some tourists walk by mumbling my native tounge.

Now its time for show and tell.

Taksim Square. THE place to be

Walking down the main street off Taksim. The most adorbale trolly runs down here

Just a fraction of downtown

This looks like a nice spot for a book and a brew

Kansas sunflowers

Just so happened I picked up his book for this trip

Taksim packed at night

Fusun and Omer

Ali's 11th Bday Party! Hahah, he has his cake face on. And that cake, oh man what a masterpiece. Ooh, there's Gma!

I made the little chocolate bundt cake. I was so out-done, it was embarassing

Held myself back from jumping into these flowers like a bed of raked leaves. There were 10x more flowers on either side

Yours truly. Safe and sound

Free your toes

Once someone told me how they can pinpoint americans. They wear jeans with flipflops. At the time I thought that was a weird comment, because it seems like a normal, especially comfortable, combination. But the flipflop stereotype holds true here. I haven’t seen anyone else’s toes. Minus one time, but they were clearly american too. In chaco’s, props.

Let me brief you. When you walk into a house, you take off your shoes, either right outside the front door, or right inside and put on slippers of some kind. I thought it was just a gesture at first, but now I realize its kind of a big deal. Yesterday I put on my tennis shoes and just walked upstairs for a second, and the maid looked at my feet..you know with a kind of weird look. Lots of feet peeking going on. Then I saw the mother, Fusun, specifically take her tennis shoes out to the patio to put them on. Its hard  to try and get away with wearing shoes in the house even a little! I find myself always taking them on and off. Off to lay on the couch, on when I step out of bed, off to change shoes, on to go outside…or do I? Haven’t mastered slippers and the outside world yet. More tricky than youd guess.

Here’s a tribute to some famous feet. Chime in if I forgot yours.

Kim- You’d never be able to show off your cute handmade toe designs. No one would notice your post-toe trauma either tho.

And Dana with her super adorable LA-pedicured bubble toes would go to waste :(

Matt, you’d go nuts, period.

Dad: No one would have to ask you to put those nasty toes away. Please, before I puke in my mouth a little bit.

Lauren. I’ve been told that summer if officially gone, so that means no flipflops (like its probably ok anyways, psh). Come here and be the extreme flipflop-wearer that I know you are! F it, 5 degrees outside? Where are my sandals?!

I say free dem toesies!

Don’t forget to write – or Skype!

Laura Langdon
Yürcel Sokak  Aytek Evlerı B29
Göktürk / Kemerbugaz 34070
Eyüp/ Istanbul
Turkey

*Evlerı does NOT have a dot above the “i”

It’s legit. I promise.

My skype sn is obvious:   Laura.Langdon or use my email: LTLangdon@gmail.com