Language Thoughts

Last night I had arrived at my gate in Frankfurt and...I realized that I understood the overhead announcement.  No, I had not magically learned Germany.  I spent the last week in Hungary where they speak Hungarian (no, that is not meant to be a revelation), a language that is related to nothing I speak or have ever studied.  This means that I spent 7 days understanding basically....nothing spoken to me in public.  In some ways this was a bit refreshing.  I could zone out because, well, there wasn't another choice.

This brings me to my language thoughts.  Last night I switched back to the wonderful world of understanding.  This world is sometimes wonderful and other times not.  But mostly it's wonderful.  I can read the Word in two languages, I can chill out with friends in two languages, I can order Starbucks in two languages.  Okay, the Starbucks one is not much of a feat, half of the words used come straight from English.  We'll change that one to the ability to order Starbucks in two accents.

This week in Hungary was not a, "lets wander around feeling like the English speaker who understands nothing" week.  I was attending a workshop on language coaching.  I'll save you a long explanation of language coaching...for the time being.  The people we were discussing are language learners, much like myself.  Some of our learners were brand new to the field, some had been around for a while, others were in the middle ground of discouragement.  Half of the learners on my radar screen are brand new, new, or fairly new.  They have varying degrees of understanding.  Our brand new gal still doesn't hear separate words, simply sounds.  She doesn't know what at least 90% of shop signs are advertising.  Much like my experience in Budapest.

So I have come to this conclusion: all language coaches should spend time in a country who's language they not only do not speak, but who's language is absolutely nothing like...almost any other language in the world.  I'm thinking that that next workshop should be in either Latvia or Estonia. 

Thankful Things - March

Today I'm doing a bit of running around town.  I'm in search of cat treats and a new shirt.  I need to buy gas for the house.  I'm meeting a friend at 6:30 downtown.  I have plans to drop by a friend's this afternoon.  All of this must be done today because I leave town tomorrow.

This morning my road prep included picking up several items I had dropped off earlier this week.  I started at the tailor.  Monday I bought a pair of black dress pants on sale.  Tuesday morning I dropped them off to be hemmed.  This morning I picked them up, paid 7 TL and was on my way.  Fast, good, cheap service. 

Next stop, the pottery studio.  I walk in the door of one my favorite places in the whole neighborhood.  Shelves full of people's different projects.  My two favorite, so very patient pottery instructors greet me.  Before I can even ask if my project is ready to be picked up, I'm offered a seat, tea and a bit of conversation.  Of course the answer is yes.  Who cares if I have a million things to do today?  This is truly one of life's simple pleasures.

I finish my tea and I'm on my way to the next stop, the shoe repairman.  Quick swing past the grocery store, one of my step-mom's requested items and a few groceries (lesson than 20 TL) in hand.  Five minutes later I'm at the shoe repairman.  I own one pair of high heels (no one tell my orthopedic surgeon or my physical therapist).  At a New Year's celebration dinner the sole of one heal broke off.  In a week I'll be at my dad's in Doha and will need said shoes to be in good repair.  The shoe repairman not only replaced both soles but also replaced the elastic so they wouldn't make noise when I walk.  All for the originally stated price of 7 TL.

Stop number three, the framer.  I'd dropped off a project to be framed a couple weeks ago.  Today my favorite framer was out of the shop and thus I did not actually get to pick the piece up.  This of course means that no payment has transferred hands.  The response when learning that I will be gone for three weeks?  It can wait.  No problem.

Home I go, thankful for great service, good friends, and a shoe repairman who makes sure that I will walk silently along the streets of Doha in a week.  All to the tune of around 34 TL.  With today's exchange rate it works out to around $18.  I think today would be a good day to pull money.

Reactions, Part 2

And on to my second favorite reaction, to date.  

This weekend  I headed out to a friend's house in another part of town.  (Why is it that interesting things in my life only seem to happen on the weekends....babies, fights, skiing, dieting adventures.  Something to ponder.)  This part of town is quite different from my part of town.  When friends from over here find out that I'm going over there, the response is quite incredulous, as though I could not POSSIBLY have business over THERE.  Mind you, while parts of it are unsafe and there is logical concern that a person not venture into these areas, the parts I find myself wandering around in are not unsafe.  They are, rather, different.  More traditional, more conservative, possibly more religious.

I ventured out to see friends who I had not seen in over five months.  This fact was one that I had not known until I arrived.  They had done the calculations.  Oopsies.  They moved five months ago and this was my first visit to their new house.  Should have gone out at least four months ago.  Blame it on...

Anyway, I ventured out first to their place of work, not knowing exactly how to get to their new house.  They own several businesses, including a tutoring center and a canteen at a school.  Starting at the tutoring center and wandering to the canteen with Big Brother, I found Mom and Dad busy at work.  Of course I sat and of course they offered me tea and of course they wanted to know where on earth I had been for five months and what on earth I had been doing.  So I started explaining.  As both Mom and Sister-in-Law are superb cooks, I included that my doctor recently gave me a diet.  This line of conversation continued as she discussed the fact that I had indeed gained weight in five months.  During this conversation, Dad wanted to know what I would like to eat.  Twice he asked and twice I refused.  And then one of the workers put a piece of cheese toast in my hand.  So I ate it.  What is a girl to do.

Yes, reaction number two: when your daughter's friend is on a strict diet given to her for health reasons by her doctor, you feed her.

(To be fair, normally over dinner she insists that I eat much more than I did on this occasion.  And she served no dessert.)

Reactions, Part 1

I've officially been on a "katı rejim" aka strict diet for a week.  It's been an interesting week.

Turkey is a land of extremes.  I can safely say that I have lived these extremes in the past seven days.  One friend tells me, "good, you've gotten fat."  Yes, that is the actually word she used.  Fat.  If I was to walk up to a friend in the States and tell them they'd gotten fat I'd either get punched, loose a friend or both.  Another friend tells me that it's not necessary.  Another friend tells me that I'm always dieting.  Another looks at me as though my favorite dog or my mother has died.  (I realize that a dog and a mother are significantly different.  It's just that I'm still trying to figure out to what level her mourning on my behalf has gone.)

So far I have two favorites.  Or, as the case may be, non-favorites.

A week or so ago I went up to a neighbors at about 9 pm.  It was one of the girls' birthdays, so of course there was food.  Lots of food.  Pastries galore!  All things that I've been informed that I am no longer permitted to eat.  At all.  Of course, to me this is not new news.  I was informed of this six months ago and proceeded to do whatever came to me as convenient at the moment.  These gals have know this for the past six months.  So when I inform them that, please overlook my fault, but my doctor has said I really and truly cannot eat dough foods/work (yes, this is actually a direct translation and includes many, many fabulous foods), my neighbor tells me that its very shameful, I must eat.  So I insist.  Really, my doctor does not permit it.  Please may I just drink tea.  No, very shameful.  Insisting again, I say that unfortunately, as much as I love all of her cooking, I simply must follow my doctor's orders.  She tells me to eat now and just not eat tomorrow.  So I insist again.  This time I tell them that my doctor is concerned I might later end up diabetic if I continue down my current path.  The response?  You're not diabetic yet so enjoy!  Thankfully the conversation turned away from me and to other things.  I think I actually did not end up even drinking tea.  They might be mad at me, I'm not sure.  I went in to the girl's shop a few days later.  They don't seem mad.  Only time will tell.

Favorite number two to follow....

Dieting and Healthcare Adventures

Six months ago I went to a new endocrinologist.  This was after running around to several doctor's who's response to a hormone deficiency was, "You have a low hormone.  Here's a pill."  No questions as to why, no further tests on the specific hormone.  I don't know that the pill popping phenomenon any different here than, say Canada, England or America.  I probably should have just left that list to America as I have never been to England (although this week I've been asked twice if I'm English) and I've merely driven through and visited Canada more times than I have ever cared to count

Friday Basketball

The colors change, the cheers change, the fans change but basketball is still the same.  From Alaska to Turkey I somehow have found myself back in the stands.

Oh, and we won...

Thankful Things - February

Illness? Since when are we thankful for illness? Well...when you're ill in Turkey there are many things to be thankful for. And really, should we not be thankful in all circumstances?

First, I grew up in Alaska. The independent state. The "pull yourself up by your bootstraps" state. The "girls can fix their own cars" state. (As a side note, I once replaced the exhaust system on my old Subaru wagon with my step-dad. He claims I did most of the work. All I remember is him wrestling with a rusted on bolt.) Yes, we are a proud people. We get sick and still go out to haul firewood.

In Turkey you get sick and immediately receive the sympathy of everyone in your circle of friends. Every circle of friends. Tuesday morning I call a friend to cancel an English lesson and receive the offer of staying at her house for two days so she can take care of me. The past three days two of my friends from my running group have kept tabs on me. Friends may get upset if you cancel a date for other reasons, but if your sick you'd better stay home - there's no anger to be found.

I admit, all of this is a tad on the annoying side when you only have the sniffles, but when you're nursing a wicked sinus infection and don't want to leave your house, it's super!

Second, I normally have a huge dislike for anything found in the drug family. "Run far, far, far away" is my motto. This time I attempted to run far, far away. When after a week I actually found myself with a fever instead of improved health I decided that it was time to take myself to the doctor. So I did. I left my house, hoped in a cab, and headed to the health clinic. No appointment. No waiting (that part was only because it was seriously cold outside and 10 am on a Wednesday morning). Good questions. No payment. Just a list of drugs on a prescription sheet and I'm out the door again to the pharmacy. Meds included, this infection has cost me under 50 TL. And that is without insurance paying a portion. Turks love their medications and they are cheap!















The pile is large, but helpful. I am especially loving my netty pot - not on the list from the doctor, but something my wonderful step-mom brought over from the States a few years back.















Oh, and notice the scribbled words on the Zinnat box? Yup, dosage instructions from the pharmacist. It's a different world here.

Third, I'm reminded again and again that I am not the key figure in my life. Not in my work, not in my play, not in my friendships. It is His work, His play, and these are His friendships. I am the steward. Apparently this steward needs to rest. And so she shall.