I knew that I would love Turkey, but Istanbul surpassed my expectations. I hold Evrim, our delightful hostess, responsible for this. We had arrived from Africa, worn down after 3 months of budget travel. I felt tired. Mark felt depressed. We had lived for 3 months without responsibility, contributing nothing to society aside from our financial contribution (well, that and a few items that were taken without our consent). Travel is incredible, but at some point it just loses its luster. When travel loses its luster, I’ve found that what works best for me is to just wait it out, slow things down and wait for the glitter to return. Fortunately, God was working on our behalf to bring back the razzle-dazzle of travel, and meeting Evrim was exactly what we needed at exactly the right time. Things slowed down, we met friends, and found a sense of community. It was the perfect recipe for coping with a case of travel fatigue.
For starters, meeting locals was a huge boost to our learning curve. Instead of getting frustrated about blocked websites, we got the work-arounds for our computer woes. Tolga introduced us to ktunnel.com, a website that allowed us to illegally access our blogs. Evrim introduced us to diziport.com where we could watch movies and catch up on our television series for free. Cue the final episodes of Dexter, Desperate Housewives, Chuck, and Smallville…all in English!
Lord knows I love to laugh, and Evrim’s sense of humor is hilarious. Almost daily, she would put on an unintentional comedy routine of pantomiming to explain cultural habits. On more than one occasion, I nearly lost a mouthful of water to her skits. One skit had to do with her saucy contempt for Turkish men and their ever-present twirling tespih (they’re like a wrist-size necklace of beads). With one hand behind her back, she put on a lazy look, stuck out her stomach, and walked hips first while twirling the beads in her free hand. “Look what I can do; I’m important,” she joked as she flipped the beads like a lifeguard twirling a whistle. Another of her skits had to do with the Turkish men and their Turkish Balconies. She explained, “American men look pregnant, but Turkish men, French balcony maybe.” I loved her humor. When she talked to her friends on the phone in rapid Turkish, I would pick up the occasional, “AllahAllah!” the Turkish equivalent of OMG which always made me laugh. She came home one day from a meeting with her boss and explained how he had harped on her about the importance of keeping a professional appearance, “I’m not supermodel, not celebrity!” was her response. “Maybe next year, ah?” She was heading into the heavy season for tourists and hadn’t worked in nearly two weeks (um, more specifically, since we arrived). With concern, her parents called and suggested she should go in to the office. “Very sick (she fake coughed into the phone).”- We laughed hysterically. It was impossible to find her anything other than adorably cheeky.
In addition to her comedy skills, Evrim was one hell of a cook in the kitchen. For two weeks, I said “Yes, please,” to bread carbs and sweets. I mean, why not? I was wearing Evrim’s jeans and sweaters, her scarves. Without my clothes for reference, I didn’t notice how much my “Turkish balcony” was growing. On the last day, when I suggested to Kemet, Evrim’s cousin, that I wasn’t thrilled about this development, she endorsed pilates. I was already walking up to 10 miles each day; really I think there’s no amount of exercise that can keep up with a Turkish cook.
In addition to the normalacy of movies and television, humor, and food, Istanbul offered even more little gems. Turkish people adore Americans, and I began to understand and articulate how different and similar we are. People talk about Americans sphere of comfort/personal space being large, about 3 feet, but I felt it in Turkey as I watched women fawn over my husband. With Turkish women¸ the boundaries of a married man are very small, not even centimeters. Turkish women love to sit beside and touch my husband which threatens me less than I thought it would. Mark and I joked that we could make a lot of money in Turkey by selling perfume called “American Passport.” The tagline would be something along the lines of “It’s intoxicating. It smells like money.” Don’t be deceived, people in Istanbul are doing very well; in many ways, they live very similarly to Americans in New York; they just like what they see in Hollywood.
One night on the bus, Mark and I met a family on holiday from Boston. I instantly knew they were Americans because they talked in loud voices (think Texan), had an attitude of superiority (we’re not even aware of it), and huddled together in a tight group (it’s natural for us to remove the 3 foot barrier when facing a foreign environment). They talked in mild complaints, “When is this bus going to get here? It’s been 10 minutes already!” and worried about directions (“Is this the spot for the 42T bus to Taksim?” and after asking many people for confirmation of their directions, their mild impatience grew). They were a lovely family, and we enjoyed talking with them, and I appreciated how watching them helped me articulate how Americans are perceived in the world- all of this behavior we exhibit without even being aware of it. On this trip, I’ve gotten better at spotting Americans and Canadians from a distance. We dress for comfort whereas Europeans wear tight-fitted clothes regardless of their size or shape. For example, on the beach, the 60 year olds in speedos and bikinis are from Europe. On the street, the American/ Canadian is the one in comfortable baggy clothes, sneakers, and an untucked t-shirt. Oftentimes, we add a baseball cap for good measure. The European, on the other hand, has on brown or black dress shoes, a tucked in shirt with dress slacks, rarely blue-jeans. It’s something I’ve been self conscious about as I travel, but until I saw the Boston family, I’ve been unable to articulate what it looks like to be a foreigner.
In Turkey, I discovered that nearly everyone adores Ataturk, the Father of Turkey. He gave his people a new written language which united their country. In his honor, there are posters, banners, and monuments throughout the city. It’s not just a propaganda campaign; Turks really believe in this man. They display their pride in clothing labels and tatoos. Although Ataturk created a uniting language, it is not the easiest one for Americans to learn. In fact, it’s quite difficult. I couldn’t figure out the dishwasher or washing machine without assistance, couldn’t figure out how to turn on the television or laptop, but finally, after two weeks, I could pronounce Bisiktas (prounounced “bish-ick-tash”), Evrim’s favorite football team (which, by the way, Mark and I have adopted this team as our own; we like their black eagle mascot which is proudly displayed on black and grey stripes). Prounounciation got a little better for me when I heard that c’s and s’s with the squiggly lines underneath are meant to be pronounced as “ch” or “sh.” Still, to put it mildly, my Turkish could use improvement, especially after that accidental cussing incident at the supper table (I was trying to say “Health to the chef’s hands,” honest).
To learn bits of the language was wonderful, but to stay at a place that felt like home was really the best part of Istanbul. It felt so much like home, Mark and I considered staying. We toured Turkey’s prestigious private campus of Koc University to check into their graduate programs. Unlike the Embassy debacle, we were invited into the security shed to wait for an English-speaking representative, without an appointment. We were invited in for tea at the campus’ admissions office, and a representative took us on an impromptu tour. Finally, the representative connected us with return shuttle, a 2 hour trip by bus, but just 1 hour by shuttle. So, Hawaii is out, and Turkey is on the burner for Fall of 2011. We’ll see what happens. It could mean a 2 year return to Istanbul Fall of 2011.
So, after 2 weeks of enjoying Istanbul, we announced to Evrim that we would be leaving for Izrim. Anyone else in the world might have said, “Thank Allah,” but Evrim exclaimed, “Why!?!” We had started to feel the same way. We were quite comfortable in Istanbul. We’d figured out how to navigate the city of 16 million people. We could recognize landmarks like Galeta Tower where Freedom Street connects to Taksim Square which leads to Evrim’s house where we could play with Tiffany, her sassy black cat. We had a routine of staying up late and waking up later. We liked our housemate and her friends, and the relaxed environment they lived in. Why leave? Well, there’s more of Turkey to see. So, here we are on a Luxury coach bus with personal televisions, cheese sandwiches, and Turkish tea… just 8 hours to Izmir where who knows what awaits us. We’re excited to find out.
No comments:
Post a Comment