Happy New Year!

It's the new year here. I know that isn't an entirely profound statement. It's the first day of the year officially in almost every part of the world. Only in my former state and one friend's former state is the new year still many hours off (hats off to those of you in Alaska and Hawaii). The ball has fallen in New York City, the bells have rung at St. Stephen's in Vienna, the guns have gone off in the streets of Cappadocia.

This morning I woke up twice. Once because, well, I guess sometimes something just wakes you up. A thought? A baby crying? A really weird dream? One never knows. The second and final time to a dog howling out in the distance. It could have been a cry of pain. All I really remember was thinking that it's only 7 am or so and that I should try and get more sleep. And then there was the thought, "doesn't the dog know I'm trying to sleep here?" Clearly street dogs are no more aware of our need for sleep after ringing in the new year than, say, the sun.

The new year always puts me, and several million other individuals, in a philosophical frame of mind. Several years ago while sitting at dinner with my step-mom in Denver, I reneged entirely on the idea of new year's resolutions. My step-mom likes to make new year's goals. (Any change in philosophy or practice calls for conversation over a glass of wine and sushi at the Four Seasons in Doha, where she and my dad recently moved.) New year's resolutions tend to last for a day, a week, a month, but not typically for an entire year. Goals are a bit more...trackable, flexible, renegotiable, measurable, up my alley.

So I'm now sitting in the same spot I sat last Thanksgiving reflecting over sunrises and pecan pie. I wonder what my goals will be for 2012. Yes, January 1 might be a bit late to be deciding these things. I could say that I want to master the entire Turkish language. But that is not possible this side of eternity. I do want to get better at Turkish. Yet how do you measure such a thing? Does that look like being able to discuss everything from the stock market to aliens in outer space while not sounding like a small child? Or I could say that I want to memorize every story in the first four of the NT. Could be realistic. Or could it be that I want to keep my 10k time consistently under an hour? It always helps to run downhill for 10.8k.

The possibilities are truly endless. Everything from learning to make dantel (very detailed crocheting that women do here...I'm basically hopeless) to checking out every bus company in the country of Turkey. In search of the decision I plan to spend this afternoon on my favorite ridge, hopefully not freezing to death, in prayer. Always thankful that I serve One who reveals Himself and His desires to His people.

Thoughts on Working

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....

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.