Recently I was in a lesson with my original and now former language helper. We were talking about the question, what does "iyilik yapmak," or "doing good things" mean. Here it is a means of earning sevap, or scoring brownie points with God. My helper said that "iyilik yapmak" usually involves helping someone in need. You have extra eggplant and your neighbor has come into hard times? You share. You have old bread? You give it to the animals in the park.
Okay, so not all that interesting yet. But wait, now she gets to the part where she describes what we as Americans think helping another person involves. Our words. We warn, we thank, we encourage.
As believers our response to those we see in need should always be different, marked by a love for our Maker. This is one way my dear friend perceives the American believers around her, in one way or another.
Life does get complicated. Situations over here are far more gray than the black and white way I so often perceived them to be when I was not the foreigner. My actions have ramifications. But it leads me to ask myself this question: am I willing?
Sunday, July 25, 2010
Monday, July 5, 2010
When Are You Going To Eat The ONE Clif Bar?
This weekend, in celebration of July 4, three friends and I headed off to Kızılcahamam, a small town about an hour outside of Ankara for some hiking and some good 'ole fashioned girl time. It's never a bad thing for a small town girl to get out of the big city and have some head-clearing time in the pine trees.
Saturday's adventure began with the discovery that the bus to Kızılcahamam left from a different location than it did a year ago and the taxi driver who wasn't sure the bus stop had changed to would be happy to take us there for a "good price". We declined and ended up riding with one who knew where he was going...or at least sounded more knowledgeable.
After arriving in Kızılcahamam, eating a Magnum bar and finding out hotel we went for a stroll down the road that cuts through the national park to the tune of Turkish folk music. On either side of the road, relatively closely packed together are all kinds of picnic tables for people to "make a picnic" or "make a grill." It's better that way - if you've forgotten something, you can always ask your neighbor! And quiet? Nope! Kids running everywhere and out of every other car or so load music.
Later that evening, after a delight supper we walked the streets with everyone else, eating (with everyone else) sunflower seeds and spitting the shells on the street (again, with everyone else). And of course, when we returned to our hotel room we played the requisite card games and laughed the requisite laughs.
Among the many topics of discussion was the Clif Bar I currently have stashed in my kitchen. Who knows how the topic came up. It seems that whenever you get a group of American ex-pats in a room (in this case, four American single worker women) the topic of various and sundry foreign...a.k.a. American...foods comes up. Normally I would bring such a Clif Bar hiking with me, but as there is only one in my kitchen and no easy source of replacement, it waits for the next, longer hike. And when my roommate asked me when I was going to eat "the" Clif Bar, we truly couldn't help but laugh.
Saturday's adventure began with the discovery that the bus to Kızılcahamam left from a different location than it did a year ago and the taxi driver who wasn't sure the bus stop had changed to would be happy to take us there for a "good price". We declined and ended up riding with one who knew where he was going...or at least sounded more knowledgeable.
After arriving in Kızılcahamam, eating a Magnum bar and finding out hotel we went for a stroll down the road that cuts through the national park to the tune of Turkish folk music. On either side of the road, relatively closely packed together are all kinds of picnic tables for people to "make a picnic" or "make a grill." It's better that way - if you've forgotten something, you can always ask your neighbor! And quiet? Nope! Kids running everywhere and out of every other car or so load music.
Later that evening, after a delight supper we walked the streets with everyone else, eating (with everyone else) sunflower seeds and spitting the shells on the street (again, with everyone else). And of course, when we returned to our hotel room we played the requisite card games and laughed the requisite laughs.
Among the many topics of discussion was the Clif Bar I currently have stashed in my kitchen. Who knows how the topic came up. It seems that whenever you get a group of American ex-pats in a room (in this case, four American single worker women) the topic of various and sundry foreign...a.k.a. American...foods comes up. Normally I would bring such a Clif Bar hiking with me, but as there is only one in my kitchen and no easy source of replacement, it waits for the next, longer hike. And when my roommate asked me when I was going to eat "the" Clif Bar, we truly couldn't help but laugh.
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