Last night I had dinner with 10 children and 4 adults. Yes, this is my idea of vacation. You could call me crazy. You could call me slightly unstable. I call me a family...woman? Can I say that? We'll just go with it. So yes, my idea of a relaxing vacation is to go to Kapadokya and stay at a friend's house with her husband and 6 children. This morning I woke up early, had coffee, helped put chocolate spread and jam on at least 10 pieces of toast (but not on the same piece of toast - sugar rush!), and now I'm sitting listening to two boys younger than 5 discuss possible names for their toy cars.
But I digress...
I've been pondering what I'm doing here. If I'm forever a language student, people will forever treat me like a 19 year old. This treatment could also have something to do with the reality that at 31 years old I look at most like I'm 25. (Last night a 5 year old did guess that I was 75. The guess was preceded by 12 and followed by 62.) They will then try to give me all kinds of advice, tell me what I should and should not be doing, and believe that when I say slightly mind-boggling things that I just don't know the language well enough yet.
The question then comes up - do they do this because I look young, because I don't have a job, or because they are of a culture that loves to give advise? Or, as my friend just reminded me, because of pride? Or...the list of questions in my mind goes on and on and on.
I could be an eternal student. Go back to school for the second bachelor's degree, go on to get a master's degree in linguistics, a doctorate in linguistics, and then become a crazy old linguistics professor at a university somewhere. But then, how much of my time would that take? I have a friend who is getting her doctorate here. Unbelievable amounts of work are happening in her life. It's good. But is that what I want?
Last night over Mexican pile-up, one new acquaintance asked me if I like to write. Amazing! I do indeed love writing. The recommendation was for me to write about life here. It's now another idea stewing around in my mind.
If I choose to go this route, I may need to buy a thesaurus....
Friday, December 30, 2011
Wednesday, December 28, 2011
Running in Ankara
Yesterday I ran my first 10k ever. Actually it was a 10.8k, but whose counting? (We are, of course...) It was also my first race in Turkey and my first race in any foreign country.
It all started a month or so ago when I found out I would have to get a lisans in order to run the Büyük Atatürk Koşusu, aka the Great Ataturk Race. I would translate this word lisans, but I'm not sure if it means a license, a diploma or something else. All you French speakers out there, let me know what it means in French. Then I'll maybe be able to give you a good translation in Turkish. I learned that getting a lisans to be an athlete is not hard, but it does help to know someone. My second time going to the Ministry of Youth and Sports I knew someone! One of the guys I run with just happened to be waiting on paperwork. We chatted. I told him what I needed my lisans for. He gave my paperwork to the guy behind the counter. And ten minutes later I had my lisans and the necessary information for the race. In Turkey it really is all about who you know.
I realize I look a bit scary in said lisans. And no, Ferdi is not some weird sort of disease or even a club name. It means I run independently.
Lisans in hand, in word an athlete, in reality just a person who enjoys the fact that she can run again, I was ready to make the call and register for the race.
I made the call and found out I would have to attend a meeting the night before the race. Hmm. This is new. The only race I'd ever run in the States was Only Fools Run at Midnight in Juneau about 10 years ago. No meetings happened before that race. Of course there was also no cumulative prize purse of 2,000+ TL.
Monday night I walked into the meeting. I'd run into (almost literally) one of the guys from the track on my way in. And we walked into a room full of men in black coats. I don't remember actually seeing a woman in the room at that point. Later I looked around and saw a few other women. By the time the called us up to sign up for our numbers I knew there were at least 8 other women in the room. I ended up with number 8 and a woman behind me in line was waiting for number 10. In total 38 women ran the race.
Race day. The race was set to start at 14:20. Buses left the stadium to go to the race start at 12:30. I was there at 12. All told, preparation for the actual event took longer than it took me to run the route. Riding the bus was an experience. I wish I could accurately describe it all - from the bus that was supposed to be for women but was mixed to the guy who apparently runs every year and is convinced that there is some sort of scandal going on in the Turkish Athleticism Federation.
At the race start I wandered around, chewed the fat with people from the track, and received an over sized sweatshirt with Ataturk's face on it that I was informed our group would be wearing during the race. It ended up being a little like running in a dress.
The race started. And for me it ended around 56 minutes later. I had promised a girl friend of mine from the track that I would run with the other guys in our group. And so I did. At least until the last 2 km or so. Another moment of "the group is more important the individual". At the end they released me with much heckling. We'll see if they're mad a me or not when it comes to hit the track Tuesday.
56 minutes of running and my first 10k in Turkey was over. I think I'll do it again. Antalya, March 4th.
It all started a month or so ago when I found out I would have to get a lisans in order to run the Büyük Atatürk Koşusu, aka the Great Ataturk Race. I would translate this word lisans, but I'm not sure if it means a license, a diploma or something else. All you French speakers out there, let me know what it means in French. Then I'll maybe be able to give you a good translation in Turkish. I learned that getting a lisans to be an athlete is not hard, but it does help to know someone. My second time going to the Ministry of Youth and Sports I knew someone! One of the guys I run with just happened to be waiting on paperwork. We chatted. I told him what I needed my lisans for. He gave my paperwork to the guy behind the counter. And ten minutes later I had my lisans and the necessary information for the race. In Turkey it really is all about who you know.
I realize I look a bit scary in said lisans. And no, Ferdi is not some weird sort of disease or even a club name. It means I run independently.Lisans in hand, in word an athlete, in reality just a person who enjoys the fact that she can run again, I was ready to make the call and register for the race.
I made the call and found out I would have to attend a meeting the night before the race. Hmm. This is new. The only race I'd ever run in the States was Only Fools Run at Midnight in Juneau about 10 years ago. No meetings happened before that race. Of course there was also no cumulative prize purse of 2,000+ TL.
Monday night I walked into the meeting. I'd run into (almost literally) one of the guys from the track on my way in. And we walked into a room full of men in black coats. I don't remember actually seeing a woman in the room at that point. Later I looked around and saw a few other women. By the time the called us up to sign up for our numbers I knew there were at least 8 other women in the room. I ended up with number 8 and a woman behind me in line was waiting for number 10. In total 38 women ran the race.
Race day. The race was set to start at 14:20. Buses left the stadium to go to the race start at 12:30. I was there at 12. All told, preparation for the actual event took longer than it took me to run the route. Riding the bus was an experience. I wish I could accurately describe it all - from the bus that was supposed to be for women but was mixed to the guy who apparently runs every year and is convinced that there is some sort of scandal going on in the Turkish Athleticism Federation.
At the race start I wandered around, chewed the fat with people from the track, and received an over sized sweatshirt with Ataturk's face on it that I was informed our group would be wearing during the race. It ended up being a little like running in a dress.
The race started. And for me it ended around 56 minutes later. I had promised a girl friend of mine from the track that I would run with the other guys in our group. And so I did. At least until the last 2 km or so. Another moment of "the group is more important the individual". At the end they released me with much heckling. We'll see if they're mad a me or not when it comes to hit the track Tuesday.
56 minutes of running and my first 10k in Turkey was over. I think I'll do it again. Antalya, March 4th.
Saturday, October 8, 2011
a little forgiveness and a little asking for forgiveness goes a long way
I'm in the midst of learning how to be a language coach. This is not the same thing as a language teacher. Heaven forbid I try to be a Turkish language teacher! Not only am I not remotely prepared for such a thing, I live in a city of 4.5 million Turks. May they teach. A language coach is one who helps a learner through the learning process. She can direct and supervise through a specific program, she can give encouragement and/or accountability where needed, she can give advise on language schools, she can explain grammar points that are tricky, or any combination of the above. My role will probably be a combination of the above.
It also includes the ever dreaded job of finding language helpers. Language helpers are those who will actually be doing the teaching/guided practicing of the language with the language learner. In my case I am not finding teachers, I'm finding helpers. The tricky part is in the word helper. The Turkish for this word does not communicate as well, partially because the concept is not here and partially because we live in an expert culture.
Rabbit trail on the expert culture. You need your oil changed? Call the expert. You want to go on a diet? Call the expert. Keep in mind, this is a fairly generalized description. I do have a friend who, with her husband, has taken it upon herself to design their future house. I have a feeling she would appreciate life in the Northwest. She may even have a career in fishing.
Back from the rabbit trail. Finding language helpers. For me this involved both talking to friends to see if they knew of someone who might be able to do the job and putting up signs in my friend's neighborhood. One gal came through the "asking friends" method. Things seemed to be going well. I was set to meet up with her for tea two days before lessons were to begin and then we would start lessons two mornings a week at my friends house. All clear. But when you include the telephone and someone's second language into the equation, suddenly things are not quite so clear. All kinds of misunderstandings transpired. Unfortunately, because of the miscommunication I had already promised the position to another person.
I ended up calling our mutual friend to see if she could play mediator. She said she would pray about it for a couple of hours and get back to me. As soon as we hung up the phone, the would be language helper just "happened" to walk by our mutual friend's house, see her light on, and decide to stop by! They talked for quite a while. Our mutual friend was able to explain the situation without even telling her that I had called. Later that evening, I talked to our mutual friend. She suggested that I stop by sometime to apologize for the miscommunication. It had become clear that no one was at fault and yet, in a culture where apologizing is not the norm and asking for forgiveness is often unheard of, humbling yourself and accepting the blame speaks volumes. Maybe we could say it shouts when words are not clearly heard.
It also includes the ever dreaded job of finding language helpers. Language helpers are those who will actually be doing the teaching/guided practicing of the language with the language learner. In my case I am not finding teachers, I'm finding helpers. The tricky part is in the word helper. The Turkish for this word does not communicate as well, partially because the concept is not here and partially because we live in an expert culture.
Rabbit trail on the expert culture. You need your oil changed? Call the expert. You want to go on a diet? Call the expert. Keep in mind, this is a fairly generalized description. I do have a friend who, with her husband, has taken it upon herself to design their future house. I have a feeling she would appreciate life in the Northwest. She may even have a career in fishing.
Back from the rabbit trail. Finding language helpers. For me this involved both talking to friends to see if they knew of someone who might be able to do the job and putting up signs in my friend's neighborhood. One gal came through the "asking friends" method. Things seemed to be going well. I was set to meet up with her for tea two days before lessons were to begin and then we would start lessons two mornings a week at my friends house. All clear. But when you include the telephone and someone's second language into the equation, suddenly things are not quite so clear. All kinds of misunderstandings transpired. Unfortunately, because of the miscommunication I had already promised the position to another person.
I ended up calling our mutual friend to see if she could play mediator. She said she would pray about it for a couple of hours and get back to me. As soon as we hung up the phone, the would be language helper just "happened" to walk by our mutual friend's house, see her light on, and decide to stop by! They talked for quite a while. Our mutual friend was able to explain the situation without even telling her that I had called. Later that evening, I talked to our mutual friend. She suggested that I stop by sometime to apologize for the miscommunication. It had become clear that no one was at fault and yet, in a culture where apologizing is not the norm and asking for forgiveness is often unheard of, humbling yourself and accepting the blame speaks volumes. Maybe we could say it shouts when words are not clearly heard.
Thursday, September 29, 2011
Thankful Things
Last week I was out doing something (yes, this is grand revelation!) and I was struck smack in the face with my recent thought patterns. I start by knowing that God wants me to be obedient to some task. I then realize how much "easier" said task would be if I was living in the States. I proceed to inform God of this fact. This would also be known as complaining. As my final step I either do the task with a complaining heart or I choose to be 100% disobedient and not do the task at all.
Repentant prayer and thoughts later, Tuesday afternoon found me preparing to lead our weekly co-worker gathering/planning/talking session. As those newest to the country and culture, we often take time to share new cultural or language insights. Combined with this, I knew I wanted to spend time in prayer. It's easy for me to spend a lot of time talking about my requests with friends and very little time, if any time at all, praying with these friends for my requests.
Introducing the list of things we are thankful for specifically because they are easier or better than in the States. (I want to preface this by stating that this was NOT an America bashing hour, as can so easily occur when one is surrounded by other ex-pats. We could have made a list of things we will be thankful for on home assignment because they are easier or better than here! We have the privilege of living in two lands, two cultures, two continents and of enjoying the benefits of both countries.)
1. Toilettes. Yes, we are thankful for what is lovingly referred to here as the TT or the Turkish toilette. It is much more refined than what probably comes to mind as a hole in the ground. Enough said.
2. Less processed food. The processed food craze is newly arriving to Turkey. May it be very, very, very short lived!
3. The ability to make friends with shop keepers. While my mom and step-dad were in town they related to me that in the States some companies require that their employees refrain from chit chat with customers and shoppers so as to create a more professional atmosphere. Here it is common to get into conversation with shop keepers of regularly frequented stores. The conversation can be short or long and at times results in tea, a chair, and in my case, requests to give English lessons.
4. Public transportation. Not a single one of us has a car/drives a car in this country at the moment. We can. It is completely legal. It is also slightly frightening (rules?) and very expensive (Turkey has some of the highest gas prices in the world). We can get almost anywhere we want with great ease due to an extensive public transportation system.
5. No shoes in the house. People here remove their shoes as soon as they enter a home, sometimes even before they walk through the door. This practice makes the cleaning of rugs and floors much easier.
6. Flexibility of people's schedule. Plan for the afternoon cancel? Call another friend! It's very possible that they are free. The longer I live here, the more I find planning more than two days in advance slightly stressful and unnecessary.
The list could be longer, but we'll leave it at that.
For those of you who may be wondering, we did spend time in prayer thanking the Lord for each of these things. Yes, it is totally appropriate to thank Him for toilette situations and opportunities. I do believe that He has actually commanded us to do so. Thankful in ALL circumstances.
Repentant prayer and thoughts later, Tuesday afternoon found me preparing to lead our weekly co-worker gathering/planning/talking session. As those newest to the country and culture, we often take time to share new cultural or language insights. Combined with this, I knew I wanted to spend time in prayer. It's easy for me to spend a lot of time talking about my requests with friends and very little time, if any time at all, praying with these friends for my requests.
Introducing the list of things we are thankful for specifically because they are easier or better than in the States. (I want to preface this by stating that this was NOT an America bashing hour, as can so easily occur when one is surrounded by other ex-pats. We could have made a list of things we will be thankful for on home assignment because they are easier or better than here! We have the privilege of living in two lands, two cultures, two continents and of enjoying the benefits of both countries.)
1. Toilettes. Yes, we are thankful for what is lovingly referred to here as the TT or the Turkish toilette. It is much more refined than what probably comes to mind as a hole in the ground. Enough said.
2. Less processed food. The processed food craze is newly arriving to Turkey. May it be very, very, very short lived!
3. The ability to make friends with shop keepers. While my mom and step-dad were in town they related to me that in the States some companies require that their employees refrain from chit chat with customers and shoppers so as to create a more professional atmosphere. Here it is common to get into conversation with shop keepers of regularly frequented stores. The conversation can be short or long and at times results in tea, a chair, and in my case, requests to give English lessons.
4. Public transportation. Not a single one of us has a car/drives a car in this country at the moment. We can. It is completely legal. It is also slightly frightening (rules?) and very expensive (Turkey has some of the highest gas prices in the world). We can get almost anywhere we want with great ease due to an extensive public transportation system.
5. No shoes in the house. People here remove their shoes as soon as they enter a home, sometimes even before they walk through the door. This practice makes the cleaning of rugs and floors much easier.
6. Flexibility of people's schedule. Plan for the afternoon cancel? Call another friend! It's very possible that they are free. The longer I live here, the more I find planning more than two days in advance slightly stressful and unnecessary.
The list could be longer, but we'll leave it at that.
For those of you who may be wondering, we did spend time in prayer thanking the Lord for each of these things. Yes, it is totally appropriate to thank Him for toilette situations and opportunities. I do believe that He has actually commanded us to do so. Thankful in ALL circumstances.
Monday, September 12, 2011
Streets
Roads here are a curious thing. A while back I learned the hard way that one should never run or walk quickly (or walk at all) without looking down. You never know if you are going to fall into a hole. Equally important, you should look up once in a while. You never know when a car might be driving towards you down the sidewalk. Crossing the road, now there's a chance to potentially take your life into your hands.
You've heard of car games - games played while driving across America. Whoever spots licenses plates from the most states wins. Here we play road games. Leap frog anyone? You leap from one lane of traffic to the next. I have on more than one occasion found myself standing in between two lanes of traffic, both traveling at over 50 km/hr, while waiting to finish my crossing attempt.
Having my parents come to visit strikes home that these behaviors are now normal for me. One should always be prepared for a car or motorbike driving down the sidewalk. This normally occurs when they want to park on the sidewalk, exit a parking garage, or go the wrong way down a one way street. Double parking is a must (otherwise there's no room to walk on sidewalks!). And waiting for traffic to stop in order to cross the street is a waste of time.
Those who come to visit: be warned. Those drivers who I may offend when I arrive back to the States for home assignment in a year and a half: my apologies ahead of time.
Thursday, September 8, 2011
Istanbul
Riding through the streets of Istanbul is strikingly different than riding through the streets of Ankara. Old houses and new mixed together. And by old I mean Ottoman Empire old. They're old, wooden and falling down but for one reason or another cannot be torn down. So they sit. There are the fish sellers. They occasionally sell fresh fish and occasionally they sell fried fish sandwiches. There are the fresh stuffed muscles on the dock. Yes, the dock. Three famous bridges, several famous docks, uncountable ferries, tours of the Bosphorus, tankers and freighters, and various fishermen plying the choppy waters in various forms of fishing boats.
Ankara is where I live. Istanbul is where I wander.
Sunday, August 7, 2011
Are you from the city or an outlying town?
Back in June I went to a wedding with a friend of mine in her village. Or rather, I went on a marathon celebration with my friend, stayed in her village, and did a whole lot of travel on the road. It went something like this...
Go to a different part of town that happens to be more conservative than mine. Wear skirt without nylons. Feel rather uncomfortable. Oooppss.. (Hadn't done that before and won't do it again.) Hang out with friend's mom while friend and friend's sister-in-law get their hair done. Go as a family to a circumcision celebration for friend's 12 year-old cousin. Head to the village. Stop and eat dinner at 12 pm on the way to the village. Arrive at village home at a very late hour. Go to sleep. Wake up, eat breakfast, get ready for wedding. Go as a family to friend's mother's hometown near the village for part one of the wedding. Have fun at wedding, dance, eat food, meet a million relatives. Leave wedding, go to house. Bride and groom have religious ceremony. Leave house, head to Sivas (a town waaaaaay to the east of Ankara). In Sivas find location for part two of the wedding. Have fun at wedding, dance, eat cake. Watch bride and groom's civil ceremony. Dance more. Head out to car and drive back to village, stopping to have soup on the way at 1 am. Sleep in car. Arrive back at village at 3 am. Sleep more.
The next day, celebration marathon officially over, we had a late breakfast and wandered around. At one point we ran into one of my friend's many cousins wives who I had met the previous day at the wedding. She asked me where I was from. My response - America. Her follow-up question - am I from the city or an outlying town? My response after trying not to laugh - I'm from Alaska.
To explain such a quandry, I suppose I have to explain a bit of Turkey's design. We have provinces, each named after the main city in the province. So there's Ankara province and in Ankara province is the main city of Ankara as well as many outlying towns and villages. The common question here when you say where you are from is my friend's cousin's question - from the city or from the village. So in her question she revealed that she thought of America as similar to a Turkish province, having one main city and several smaller towns.
I wondered why she would ask such a question. Asking my friend was out of the question. Their family is full of gossip. The last thing I wanted was for my question to make it back to the cousin.
I learned the answer just last weekend at...another wedding. Talking to the same cousin I found out that she finished school through either fifth grade or eighth grade. She and I are the same age. Apparently when I was enjoying fifth grade and/or eighth grade, in her town there was no high school. She loved school and did well at school, but would have had to leave her small town for a much larger city in order to go to high school. (I have a feeling this might remind my mom of rural Alaska when she was in high school.) Her mom was fearful for her. Girls who stayed in dorms occasionally became pregnant. So significant was it that she stay pure and clean, she was not permitted to attend school in another town.
Today there is a high school in or very near her village. Her daughters will have the opportunity to go to high school.
Before I laugh again at such a question as her's I have to ask myself - this one who is my age, did she have the chance to learn? Whether or not she did, is it that important that she know that America is large, that Alaska is no longer a part of Russia, or that cars made in Europe and cars made in America are driven the same way? In view of eternity these facts seem terribly insignificant.
Go to a different part of town that happens to be more conservative than mine. Wear skirt without nylons. Feel rather uncomfortable. Oooppss.. (Hadn't done that before and won't do it again.) Hang out with friend's mom while friend and friend's sister-in-law get their hair done. Go as a family to a circumcision celebration for friend's 12 year-old cousin. Head to the village. Stop and eat dinner at 12 pm on the way to the village. Arrive at village home at a very late hour. Go to sleep. Wake up, eat breakfast, get ready for wedding. Go as a family to friend's mother's hometown near the village for part one of the wedding. Have fun at wedding, dance, eat food, meet a million relatives. Leave wedding, go to house. Bride and groom have religious ceremony. Leave house, head to Sivas (a town waaaaaay to the east of Ankara). In Sivas find location for part two of the wedding. Have fun at wedding, dance, eat cake. Watch bride and groom's civil ceremony. Dance more. Head out to car and drive back to village, stopping to have soup on the way at 1 am. Sleep in car. Arrive back at village at 3 am. Sleep more.
The next day, celebration marathon officially over, we had a late breakfast and wandered around. At one point we ran into one of my friend's many cousins wives who I had met the previous day at the wedding. She asked me where I was from. My response - America. Her follow-up question - am I from the city or an outlying town? My response after trying not to laugh - I'm from Alaska.
To explain such a quandry, I suppose I have to explain a bit of Turkey's design. We have provinces, each named after the main city in the province. So there's Ankara province and in Ankara province is the main city of Ankara as well as many outlying towns and villages. The common question here when you say where you are from is my friend's cousin's question - from the city or from the village. So in her question she revealed that she thought of America as similar to a Turkish province, having one main city and several smaller towns.
I wondered why she would ask such a question. Asking my friend was out of the question. Their family is full of gossip. The last thing I wanted was for my question to make it back to the cousin.
I learned the answer just last weekend at...another wedding. Talking to the same cousin I found out that she finished school through either fifth grade or eighth grade. She and I are the same age. Apparently when I was enjoying fifth grade and/or eighth grade, in her town there was no high school. She loved school and did well at school, but would have had to leave her small town for a much larger city in order to go to high school. (I have a feeling this might remind my mom of rural Alaska when she was in high school.) Her mom was fearful for her. Girls who stayed in dorms occasionally became pregnant. So significant was it that she stay pure and clean, she was not permitted to attend school in another town.
Today there is a high school in or very near her village. Her daughters will have the opportunity to go to high school.
Before I laugh again at such a question as her's I have to ask myself - this one who is my age, did she have the chance to learn? Whether or not she did, is it that important that she know that America is large, that Alaska is no longer a part of Russia, or that cars made in Europe and cars made in America are driven the same way? In view of eternity these facts seem terribly insignificant.
Tuesday, June 28, 2011
Rock Climbing in Olympos
Last week while on language break/vacation down by Antalya I discovered again the wonderful world of rock climbing. Olympos is amazing - lots of really, really old rocks left by those who worshiped everything from Zeus to the Real Lord. It's also a place where supposedly a pirate died. And...it's a climbing mecca.
Tuesday, June 7, 2011
Weddings and a...Circumsision Party
This past weekend I found myself partying halfway across Turkey. Literally. Friday afternoon I went over to a friend's house to, well, wait for my friend to get back from having her hair done. As soon as the girls came back, we were off. First stop...a circumcision party near downtown Ankara. This marks a coming of age in a boy's life and usually takes place between 6 and 12. In this case, the boy was 10 or 12 (I kept getting different answers). He's been battling cancer for a while and had to wait until the upper end of the age range for his party (an presumably circumcision, although I never did have the guts to ask).
Party number one down and it was off to the village, about an two hours east of Ankara. Crashed out for the night at my friend's house in the village. Saturday morning we all crawl out of bed, have breakfast and get ready for a marathon wedding day. First the village wedding party, about a half hour east of my friend's village. We ate (men first then the women), we danced (Turkish folk dances), the women gossiped (so did the men), we danced some more.
Then it was time to leave the village wedding and head east to Sivas for the groom's side to have a wedding party. This is the farthest east in Turkey I had been so far. Five hours farther east is the town of Erzurum and after that comes Armenia. The Sivas party was a little different than the village wedding in that it was inside, there was no meal, and company was mixed. Other than that, it was fairly typical. We danced folk dances, guests (friends and family) pinned gold on the bride and groom and we ate cake.
At about 10:30 or 11 everyone headed for home, we for the village. I was in bed by 3 am and...drum-roll, please...slept in until 8:40. Yes, this is a miracle. Still slightly in shock that I traveled all the way to Sivas to dance folk dances and eat cake.
Party number one down and it was off to the village, about an two hours east of Ankara. Crashed out for the night at my friend's house in the village. Saturday morning we all crawl out of bed, have breakfast and get ready for a marathon wedding day. First the village wedding party, about a half hour east of my friend's village. We ate (men first then the women), we danced (Turkish folk dances), the women gossiped (so did the men), we danced some more.
Then it was time to leave the village wedding and head east to Sivas for the groom's side to have a wedding party. This is the farthest east in Turkey I had been so far. Five hours farther east is the town of Erzurum and after that comes Armenia. The Sivas party was a little different than the village wedding in that it was inside, there was no meal, and company was mixed. Other than that, it was fairly typical. We danced folk dances, guests (friends and family) pinned gold on the bride and groom and we ate cake.
At about 10:30 or 11 everyone headed for home, we for the village. I was in bed by 3 am and...drum-roll, please...slept in until 8:40. Yes, this is a miracle. Still slightly in shock that I traveled all the way to Sivas to dance folk dances and eat cake.
Tuesday, May 31, 2011
A Trip to the Center of the...Country
This past weekend I decided to shake things up a bit and...get out of Ankara. Wait. For me, that really isn't shaking things up a whole lot. This I admit. I get out of Ankara on a regular basis. I have to say that this frequent trip out of Ankara business does make you love home when the bus rolls back into town, though. I'm getting a bit ahead of myself.
I have friends and co-workers in Kayseri who are currently without other co-workers in the city. They also just had a baby in March. Woohoo! I get mixed reactions to traveling outside of Ankara. Some friends do the same and understand. Others are jealous, but at the same time love to brag about how much their foreign friend has seen of the country. Still others worry for me while I'm on the road. Make that all of them. All my friends worry for me when I'm on the road, while I'm living alone in Ankara, when I get home late...basically my friends worry. A baby is a reason to travel that is 100% normal. I've found the way to travel! Now if I can just convince all my friends to continually be having babies.... I think I'll just have to settle with being weird for a while.
Hop on the bus Friday afternoon (bought the bus ticket Thursday - I love the last minute convenience of life in Turkey!) and 5 hours later was in Kayseri. Met my friends at the bus station, went out for birthday dinner and then proceeded to have one of the most relaxing weekends I've had in a long time. I would love to give you all my impressions of Kayseri culture, but alas, I spent Saturday chatting it up and flipping through American magazines. And Sunday? Two friends from America showed up right around breakfast (this is not exactly normal - a great surprise!). Sat around talking to them until it was time to go to fellowship in the afternoon. Great teaching from Heb. 11 from a nat'l brother. Back home. Pizza and a few rounds of Master Chef Australia. So as far as special Kayseri "events", I didn't do a whole lot. Wait - I did eat pastırma Friday night. My dictionary says it's "preserve of dried meat", "cured spiced beef" or "pastrami". My friend says "dried garlic meat." None of these are quite as appetizing as the real thing, I assure you. Kayseri folk are quite proud of their "dried garlic meat", so she says.
Yesterday, off to Kapadokya to meet up with a group of students here from Liberty. Again, no camera because I was feeling lazy. Yes, I went to thousand or so year old historical sites and did not take pictures because I was feeling lazy. You know you live in Turkey when...
Caught a bus last night at 6:30 out of Nevşehir and was in my house by 11 pm or so. And I did buy the bus ticket at the counter that afternoon. As I rolled into Ankara, in between waking and sleeping, I thought, I love my city with all of its ministry buildings and government offices. Yes, sadly, this did come to mind. But it is home. And I do love it.
I have friends and co-workers in Kayseri who are currently without other co-workers in the city. They also just had a baby in March. Woohoo! I get mixed reactions to traveling outside of Ankara. Some friends do the same and understand. Others are jealous, but at the same time love to brag about how much their foreign friend has seen of the country. Still others worry for me while I'm on the road. Make that all of them. All my friends worry for me when I'm on the road, while I'm living alone in Ankara, when I get home late...basically my friends worry. A baby is a reason to travel that is 100% normal. I've found the way to travel! Now if I can just convince all my friends to continually be having babies.... I think I'll just have to settle with being weird for a while.
Hop on the bus Friday afternoon (bought the bus ticket Thursday - I love the last minute convenience of life in Turkey!) and 5 hours later was in Kayseri. Met my friends at the bus station, went out for birthday dinner and then proceeded to have one of the most relaxing weekends I've had in a long time. I would love to give you all my impressions of Kayseri culture, but alas, I spent Saturday chatting it up and flipping through American magazines. And Sunday? Two friends from America showed up right around breakfast (this is not exactly normal - a great surprise!). Sat around talking to them until it was time to go to fellowship in the afternoon. Great teaching from Heb. 11 from a nat'l brother. Back home. Pizza and a few rounds of Master Chef Australia. So as far as special Kayseri "events", I didn't do a whole lot. Wait - I did eat pastırma Friday night. My dictionary says it's "preserve of dried meat", "cured spiced beef" or "pastrami". My friend says "dried garlic meat." None of these are quite as appetizing as the real thing, I assure you. Kayseri folk are quite proud of their "dried garlic meat", so she says.
Yesterday, off to Kapadokya to meet up with a group of students here from Liberty. Again, no camera because I was feeling lazy. Yes, I went to thousand or so year old historical sites and did not take pictures because I was feeling lazy. You know you live in Turkey when...
Caught a bus last night at 6:30 out of Nevşehir and was in my house by 11 pm or so. And I did buy the bus ticket at the counter that afternoon. As I rolled into Ankara, in between waking and sleeping, I thought, I love my city with all of its ministry buildings and government offices. Yes, sadly, this did come to mind. But it is home. And I do love it.
Saturday, May 21, 2011
The Day of Unpreparedness
So today was going to be a quiet day. I was going to study, find a pack cover for tomorrow's hike (the forecast declares rain in our future...again), and teach my friend Gizem to ice skate. The studying happened - love Tchibo and their 2.95 filter coffee (although it would be nice if they had a bathroom...but then again, a bathroom in a store sort of promotes shoplifting). The pack cover was found and purchased. In the purchasing process I also may have stumbled upon one of the only cross-country skiers in the entire city. Winter is only a few short months away, folks!
And that is where all good planning ended. After I first left the house I realized I had left without my umbrella. This is not a good situation to be in when the clouds are looming black overhead. So I turned around and headed home to pick up my umbrella which was no where to be found. I have to admit, the first thought to enter my head was not a charitable thought. I assumed that someone had stolen my umbrella the night before. Nothing to be done, I would simply have to buy an umbrella while I was out. Which I did, from a toy store (first mistake) for 5 lira (second mistake). The third mistake of the day, I left home without suitable long sleeves. Not only was I something to stare at in my bright blue shirt, I was possibly going to be very cold later. So into one of my favorite stores I tromp and buy a new, very pink hoodie for 15 lira. Yes, we are at 20 extra lira here, people. After coffee and on my way to skating I popped into a cosmetic shop to buy a nail file. I assumed that such a thing would cost a lira or two. Wrong! Got to the counter and I was so surprised that I did pay the 19.50 lira for a package of 6 and walked back out the door. Yup, this is now up to 39.50.
To skating I go. And, oh, wait - a hockey game has appeared. No more sessions today? Guess I'll go home. Maybe to the market first. Catch a bus as it starts to rain. Good thing I have my new 5 lira umbrella. Well, we get to the station, I hop off the bus, open my umbrella and the handle completely separates from top! Too bad I bought a hoodie and not a rain coat. I dash off to the nearest covered area where a gentleman asks me what happened to my umbrella. Thank you very much, it appears to be broken (we have a lovely tense in Turkish for such appearances).
I wait until the rain lets up before I run to the taxi. A taxi from the bus station to my house is 5 lira. We're now up to 44.50 in unpreparedness money. As I'm in the taxi digging for my house keys, what happens to be sitting in the bottom of my bag but my umbrella.
And that is where all good planning ended. After I first left the house I realized I had left without my umbrella. This is not a good situation to be in when the clouds are looming black overhead. So I turned around and headed home to pick up my umbrella which was no where to be found. I have to admit, the first thought to enter my head was not a charitable thought. I assumed that someone had stolen my umbrella the night before. Nothing to be done, I would simply have to buy an umbrella while I was out. Which I did, from a toy store (first mistake) for 5 lira (second mistake). The third mistake of the day, I left home without suitable long sleeves. Not only was I something to stare at in my bright blue shirt, I was possibly going to be very cold later. So into one of my favorite stores I tromp and buy a new, very pink hoodie for 15 lira. Yes, we are at 20 extra lira here, people. After coffee and on my way to skating I popped into a cosmetic shop to buy a nail file. I assumed that such a thing would cost a lira or two. Wrong! Got to the counter and I was so surprised that I did pay the 19.50 lira for a package of 6 and walked back out the door. Yup, this is now up to 39.50.
To skating I go. And, oh, wait - a hockey game has appeared. No more sessions today? Guess I'll go home. Maybe to the market first. Catch a bus as it starts to rain. Good thing I have my new 5 lira umbrella. Well, we get to the station, I hop off the bus, open my umbrella and the handle completely separates from top! Too bad I bought a hoodie and not a rain coat. I dash off to the nearest covered area where a gentleman asks me what happened to my umbrella. Thank you very much, it appears to be broken (we have a lovely tense in Turkish for such appearances).
I wait until the rain lets up before I run to the taxi. A taxi from the bus station to my house is 5 lira. We're now up to 44.50 in unpreparedness money. As I'm in the taxi digging for my house keys, what happens to be sitting in the bottom of my bag but my umbrella.
Friday, May 6, 2011
On Shepherds
My language helper and I are working on describing John 10 in my lessons. The Good Shepherd. Of course, it helps to know a bit about shepherds when one wants to describe a passage on shepherds. I grew up in Juneau, Alaska which means I have not spent a large portion of my life observing sheep. My helper, on the other hand, spent part of her childhood in a village on the southern coast of Turkey. She has had the chance to see and observe sheep.
Sheep must have a shepherd. Without a shepherd they don't know where to go, don't know what to do. They're standing in the middle of the road, a car comes along and they don't move. In a standoff between a flock of sheep and a car, the sheep win. Sheep will eat their way off a cliff.
The shepherd truly does know the sheep and the sheep truly do know the shepherd. They will follow him, they will run to his voice. When a stranger comes into the fold, he can say whatever he wants, but the sheep will not hear him.
Ah, but she made an interesting comment. If a stranger comes into the fold and beats the sheep into submission, they will follow him. But it is not out of trust that they follow. Instead it is out of fear.
So, what have I learned? I've been thinking about this off and on for the last several days. Jesus is our Good Shepherd. We really are like sheep. Yes, I know I've heard this uncountable times before. But I've gotten a little closer to it in this process. And...those who come to kill, steal and destroy? They really can come in. But it is only the Good Shepherd who we will follow in trust.
Sunday, April 17, 2011
Measuring a Day
Five cups of tea, a cup of Turkish coffee, Nescafe with creamer, and (of course) the morning cups of joe later, I went to bed. Yes, my day was fueled well. For those who may be wondering , this is not entirely a normal day. Typically I don’t drink the Turkish coffee.
I lay in bed last night pondering the day. It was full. It was good. It really was a typical fall/winter/spring Saturday. Morning at home (coffee), basketball game in the afternoon (nescafe), dash home to greet friends (three cups of tea), run over to the two neighbors on my floor to give them leftover pastries (no tea), then run upstairs with cake to welcome the new neighbors into the building (Turkish coffee and two more cups of tea).
Instead of tea, lets describe it based on food. Woke up, drank coffee and made pancakes. So good. And the strawberries this time of year…heavenly! My goal is to have strawberries every day until they are out of season. After working out I made börek, a pastry I would serve to my friends coming over later in the day. Lunch and off to the game. No food at the game. This was a good thing. My friends lost by a hair, which means that if I did have food I would have ended up mindlessly tossing it in the air every time my friends missed a basket or let a turnover happen. Several times I was forced to put my cell phone in my pocket for fear that it would end up flying three rows up and smacking someone in the head. Game over, run home. My roommate, being the younger member of the household, served the börek I had made this morning, along with purchased stuffed grape leaves (sarma), a bean salad (piyaz), cake, and baklava given as a gift by the visitors. Off to greet the new neighbors. I gave them my plate of cake. In return they invited me in. They’re offering was a poğaça (sort of like a roll or a bun), éclairs and a slice of pound cake. Fortunately, as I had dropped in, I was not obligated to eat everything on my plate. Even more fortunate, they did not force the issue. This bodes well as I look ahead to future visits.
Or we could describe the day based on friends. I woke up to a quiet house. My roommate had stayed the night with friends. Ah, the sound of silence. Off to the game. On my way I ran into one of the players, walking her dog to the gym. We talked on our way in. She told me of her latest crush. To the gym where I said hi to another player, chatted with a player’s mom, and sat in the stands to watch warm-ups. During warm-ups I waved to several other players. Another friend came in and we watched the game together. A sad play-off loss, but we still have another chance. Game over, run home to greet friends. My roommate and I had a believing couple and their son over for 5 o’clock tea. Amazing conversation. I am full of thanksgiving for this couple! They leave, and I deliver pastries to the neighbors. These neighbors are my landlord’s sisters and they are a hoot and a half! One is practically blind, the other is basically deaf. Home to fill up a plate with cake, then off to the new neighbors. A new family moved into the building a few weeks ago. As far as I can tell, its two single girls in their 20s/30s and their parents. Their grandparents are staying with them at the moment so their grandma can have tests done at the hospital. The girls recently opened a beauty salon. We talked about everything from my background to university studies to the tort problem in America (but not in so many words). And we have basketball in common. They have a friend playing on the other women’s division two basketball team in Ankara. Turkey is indeed a small country.
I lay in bed last night pondering the day. It was full. It was good. It really was a typical fall/winter/spring Saturday. Morning at home (coffee), basketball game in the afternoon (nescafe), dash home to greet friends (three cups of tea), run over to the two neighbors on my floor to give them leftover pastries (no tea), then run upstairs with cake to welcome the new neighbors into the building (Turkish coffee and two more cups of tea).
Instead of tea, lets describe it based on food. Woke up, drank coffee and made pancakes. So good. And the strawberries this time of year…heavenly! My goal is to have strawberries every day until they are out of season. After working out I made börek, a pastry I would serve to my friends coming over later in the day. Lunch and off to the game. No food at the game. This was a good thing. My friends lost by a hair, which means that if I did have food I would have ended up mindlessly tossing it in the air every time my friends missed a basket or let a turnover happen. Several times I was forced to put my cell phone in my pocket for fear that it would end up flying three rows up and smacking someone in the head. Game over, run home. My roommate, being the younger member of the household, served the börek I had made this morning, along with purchased stuffed grape leaves (sarma), a bean salad (piyaz), cake, and baklava given as a gift by the visitors. Off to greet the new neighbors. I gave them my plate of cake. In return they invited me in. They’re offering was a poğaça (sort of like a roll or a bun), éclairs and a slice of pound cake. Fortunately, as I had dropped in, I was not obligated to eat everything on my plate. Even more fortunate, they did not force the issue. This bodes well as I look ahead to future visits.
Or we could describe the day based on friends. I woke up to a quiet house. My roommate had stayed the night with friends. Ah, the sound of silence. Off to the game. On my way I ran into one of the players, walking her dog to the gym. We talked on our way in. She told me of her latest crush. To the gym where I said hi to another player, chatted with a player’s mom, and sat in the stands to watch warm-ups. During warm-ups I waved to several other players. Another friend came in and we watched the game together. A sad play-off loss, but we still have another chance. Game over, run home to greet friends. My roommate and I had a believing couple and their son over for 5 o’clock tea. Amazing conversation. I am full of thanksgiving for this couple! They leave, and I deliver pastries to the neighbors. These neighbors are my landlord’s sisters and they are a hoot and a half! One is practically blind, the other is basically deaf. Home to fill up a plate with cake, then off to the new neighbors. A new family moved into the building a few weeks ago. As far as I can tell, its two single girls in their 20s/30s and their parents. Their grandparents are staying with them at the moment so their grandma can have tests done at the hospital. The girls recently opened a beauty salon. We talked about everything from my background to university studies to the tort problem in America (but not in so many words). And we have basketball in common. They have a friend playing on the other women’s division two basketball team in Ankara. Turkey is indeed a small country.
Wednesday, March 30, 2011
By Your Tears...
Recently I had the opportunity to go see Ravi Zacharias speak. Following his presentation (which, after hearing it translated into Turkish, I've decided that I will go into professional translating ONLY after living here for 25 years and even then, we'll see) there was a time for questions. Several people asked very interesting, very good questions. Some of those asking questions were believers, others clearly were not believers.
One question in particular sticks out in my mind. The very last question was asked by a believer. She said that one of the biggest problems we face here as believers is our family. Our families say, "choose us or choose your faith, you cannot have both." She said that sometimes believers were beaten or kicked out of their home. Would it be better for us to keep our faith a secret? I'm not sure if she knew, but the individual to whom the question was asked had been there before.
My initial response to such a question, admittedly and unfortunately, is not very merciful. I want to say, "We are promised to have difficult times, so get out there and proclaim what is most important!" He never said that. He also did not deny that we are to be open about what we believe. He shared out of his own experience. He said that he would often leave books and tapes around the house and he knew they would be listened to. He told of a father who was quite mean in his discipline, but who, after coming to saving faith completely changed. The change was so complete that in a lineup of pictures from his life, his friends and family could tell when he had become a believer. Ravi did say that one way or another our light must shine forth. "By your tears..." he understood the heart of the person to whom he was speaking.
This is one side of the picture here. In my studies I listened to words of another believer who had been kicked out by her family. She told of how He had provided for her, both through work and through housing. Next time I see her I want to ask whether or not her relationship with her family has been at all mended. She continues to walk in faith.
This may not happen everyday to every believer. It happens often enough to know that there are even those who are reticent to come because of their families reaction. Do not ask only that they would have courage. Ask also that I would have an understanding and merciful heart. I have not been in their shoes. I can direct them to One who has. But I want to do so with compassion and grace.
One question in particular sticks out in my mind. The very last question was asked by a believer. She said that one of the biggest problems we face here as believers is our family. Our families say, "choose us or choose your faith, you cannot have both." She said that sometimes believers were beaten or kicked out of their home. Would it be better for us to keep our faith a secret? I'm not sure if she knew, but the individual to whom the question was asked had been there before.
My initial response to such a question, admittedly and unfortunately, is not very merciful. I want to say, "We are promised to have difficult times, so get out there and proclaim what is most important!" He never said that. He also did not deny that we are to be open about what we believe. He shared out of his own experience. He said that he would often leave books and tapes around the house and he knew they would be listened to. He told of a father who was quite mean in his discipline, but who, after coming to saving faith completely changed. The change was so complete that in a lineup of pictures from his life, his friends and family could tell when he had become a believer. Ravi did say that one way or another our light must shine forth. "By your tears..." he understood the heart of the person to whom he was speaking.
This is one side of the picture here. In my studies I listened to words of another believer who had been kicked out by her family. She told of how He had provided for her, both through work and through housing. Next time I see her I want to ask whether or not her relationship with her family has been at all mended. She continues to walk in faith.
This may not happen everyday to every believer. It happens often enough to know that there are even those who are reticent to come because of their families reaction. Do not ask only that they would have courage. Ask also that I would have an understanding and merciful heart. I have not been in their shoes. I can direct them to One who has. But I want to do so with compassion and grace.
Sunday, March 20, 2011
On Hiking and Uniformity
A week ago a friend and I joined a hiking group for a Sunday stroll in the mountains. Okay, not so much a stroll. Definitely a hike. Actually, had the snow been a little less tricky and slow going in spots, we could have called it a climb.For a while now, I've been wanting to both get out and be in the great outdoors that I've grown up loving and to find those locals who enjoy the same types of pursuits. It became very clear that this type of activity is primarily done through an association and an association is found by asking those you know. So off to my acquaintances I went and I began to ask for information. All of their answers led me back to one group, who's office happens to be a 10 minute walk from my house. Then, when one of my co-workers who will shortly be moving to another city joined the group for a hike, I decided to follow suit. But before I committed, I asked a good friend to join me - one who happens to be a girl. The last thing I wanted to do is to show up and be the only girl!
Last Sunday at 7 am we headed out my door with all our gear and walked up the hill to the association office. There we were met by folks who, by all outward appearances, had done this sort of thing before. And, as I am finding to be true in this country, they were a community of sorts that all knew each other. We picked more people up as we headed out of town in our hired bus and were off to the mountains.I looked around me. Everyone was dressed in more or less the same brand of clothing, more or less everyone was wearing red and black, and everyone was basically of the same socio-economic status. We had our tea, we had our rolls, and we had our conversation.
We stopped on the way at their usual bakery to buy bread where almost everyone walked out with loaves of bread. Then we stopped at the truck stop where soup and tea would be consumed and gaiters would be put on. Here my friend learned that there is only one way to put on gaiters.
So off to the trail we went. Ah, but wait - no real trail would lead us to where we were going. We were at the mercy of our guide, his GPS, map, and previous hiking in the area. The remainder of the day I watched him climb and teach. Every time we stopped everyone was instructed to drink water. When we hit slopes covered with snow that would require a certain type of step, everyone was not only told how to walk, but shown how to do so. When a decision needed to be made as to whether or not we would attempt the peak or attempt to simply get back to our vehicle, everyone was given all the possibilities and all the reasons for deciding certain things. Here was a guide, a teacher, a shepherd of a flock of hikers with varying levels of experience.Lunch time came. We found a flat area, stomped down our snow and out came, once more, identical gear and identical menus. The guide (who we called hoca - the word for a teacher - and who called us hoca, i.e. Catherine hoca, Sevda hoca) had everyone put on all their layers, stamp down the snow in a certain way, and continued to instruct on different aspects of winter climbing.
Hours later, right about sunset, we made it back to the vehicle. Here the hoca led everyone in stretching and then back to the vehicle. Down the road we went to the truck stop for the same bowl of soup, the same pickles and onions and the same tea. Rested, hydrated, happy and tired it was back to the vehicle and back to town where we all went to our various, non-identical houses, jobs, friends and families.Slowly, slowly, slowly I am learning more about the community aspect of this culture. Community and doing/liking the same things as my friend seem to be the order of the day. With me Ask that whole communities will decide together to follow the Truth. And as we Ask this question for Turkey, lets Ask something for ourselves - do we live in community with one another? I don't believe we are taught that community and uniformity are the same, but there is something to be learned here from this culture that so values community.
Thursday, January 13, 2011
Hey Litle Girl
This song seems to fit well with the people I walk amongst day and and day out. Love enough to cover shame...
Sunday, January 9, 2011
Skiing
Yesterday I went up to Ilgaz with friends for a day of skiing. Ilgaz is small - a big lift and a few...um...Dad? What was it that you used when you learned to ski back in the 60s? Yup, those. Unfortunately they weren't running, so it was up the lift and down the run, up the lift and down the run, up the lift and down the run, up the lift and down the run. No, I did not actually count the number of times I went up the lift and down the run.
I did learn that skiing here is a different type of adventure than what I grew up with. To start with, I met everyone just before 7 am at the skating rink in town. We boarded a rented small van (larger and more comfortable than a 12 passenger van but smaller than a short bus) and off we went towards Kastamonu. And on said bus, I expirienced my first "bus çay." We have building çay, evening çay, çay during lessons, etc. Now I can say that I have had bus çay down to making sure there were sweet things and savory things to eat.
We got up to the mountain at about 10:30. The lifts had been running for about an hour and a half, but that did not mean crowds running over and 20 minute waits at the base lift. It did take us quite a while to figure out exactly what we were doing with rentals, where to stash our stuff, etc. By 12 I was skiing. A little late, but it was the first lift up and run down. I raced my friend and won! From there on out it was ski, ski, ski until I decided to try and show another friend how to ski. Ever try to teach someone how to do something in your second language that you have almost no vocabulary for? Lets just say, she did get a couple turns in, she made it down the mountain and we're still friends.
Here there is a group mentality. We do things with the group. Yesterday I did ski on my own quite a bit, but I ate with the group, rode with the group, rented with the group, laughed with the group. It wasn't too much different that when I was in college running up to Bridger or Big Sky. Then we were all about the group, too.
Here I saw too types of skiers. There was a ski race going on the same time we were there. I saw the serious skiers from Mid-East Tech and Ankara University. I saw those who had never put on skis before and were trying for the first time. So really, how different was it from what I was used to? It was everything we had when I was growing up, only compact into one run.
So what was different? My own thoughts. Part of me wanted to ski the whole day. Lets leave at 4 am just so we can be up there by 8:30 in time to rent gear and catch the first lift up. Stop for lunch? That's what Clif Bars are for. But there really is something to the outside grill, friends' laughing, and then being able to share stories later.
And I think before I give another ski lesson in Turkish I might want to take one from someone who speaks Turkish. Vocabulary is not overrated.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)