Turkey for Thanksgiving

Question: What are Turkish people thankful for?

Answer: Their teachers.

Ironically (or perhaps, not so ironically) Nov 24th is Teacher Appreciation Day in Turkey. This means students shower you with gifts, flowers, love & adoration. Even the ones you thought didn't care for you! I received numerous roses & tulips, a huge bottle of perfume (like, the biggest one I've ever seen), chocolate & countless hugs. It's quite nice.

Then, a school sponsored dinner is held in your honor. In our case this dinner took place at a nearby hotel & was complete with a belly dancer, live musical entertainment & a sufficient amount of food to co-mingle with a sufficient amount of alcohol. (Note: if you do not like anise flavoring or ridiculously potent alcohol, do not have Rakı. Bleh.)

At such events, do not expect to sit since your hospitable & energetic co-workers will not allow you to do so. Dancing or eating are your only options for passing time. So if you don't want to dance, well... too bad. Fake eating? Mind you this is coming for the girl who looooves to dance. But even I had to point out sweat on my brow to earn a 3 minute water break. I do love unexpected exercise, though.

Hours later, with full bellies & ringing ears, you are permitted to go home as you have successfully celebrated "your" day to the Turks liking. Phew. Sleep.

Now let's back up & focus on that dancing portion again....

Similar to Greek & Hebrew celebratory dances, Turkish people also have "group dancing" with skilled legs kicking, tapping (or flailing) & stepping; large inner & outer circles moving to a repetitive beat you can't get out of your head; holding hands & laughing smiles. Don't know the steps? Not to worry, you'll be taught in the standard sink-or-swim manner. Hopefully you're next to someone who knows what they're doing...

There were 3 or 4 discernible dances as far as I could tell. Two large group line-dances, one hip-moving, circle-making war dance between two girls? & one, well .... you'll see the pictures.

It started because I saw a handful of girls dancing in pairs with a minimal amount of choreography taking place. They were casually kicking & doing something pretty with their hands. It also seemed there was "free" time in the song as the movements were sometimes synchronized & sometimes free-style. As I watched I found the moves easy enough to mimic but wasn't sure where the song or dance started & stopped. So I asked a co-worked standing next to me to "teach me" then pointed to the nearest pair of girls we could see dancing. With an arched eye-brow she pointed & clarified, "teach?"

...Nod, "Yeah!"

She then took one of my hands in hers, pointed towards the ground & proceeded to kneel down... on the floor. For a minute this looked like a lesbian proposal as I remained standing & contemplated whether my request had been misunderstood. But she was persistent & although I didn't understand WHY we were kneeling on the ground, I joined her.

Evidently this "dance" I innocently noticed was the end portion of a much longer dance that tells the story of a maiden (gypsy) completing a hard-days work.

This gypsy starts by washing clothes by the river. She washes & washes, subsequently building-up quite a sweat. After wiping the sweat from her brow, she proceeds to make baklava (or food in come capacity). Also working up a sweat, she wipes her brow again. And so it continues - washing clothes, making food, seducing, being playful then actually standing up & dancing (the part I witnessed).

Despite my years of dance/theatre/live performance, I could not contain my laughter. I mean, I was on the floor surrounded by co-workers as well as my boss playing the part of a gypsy woman, complete with a white napkin (towel) & all. I laughed the e.n.t.i.r.e time Cansu taught me the story sequence & movements. I could take nothing seriously in that moment.

But it sure was fun! And I can prove it : )

I WIN!!!!

Remember When Jasmine "Steals" the Apple...

Everyone's seen the Disney movie Aladdin (if you haven't please do NOT continue reading until you have).

You know the scene when Jasmine casually hands a hungry little beggar boy an apple - then walks away without paying? The merchant-man accuses her of stealing & threatens to cut off her hand if she doesn't pay for the fruit. Standard (but not accurately portrayed) punishment in Islamic culture. You steal, you lose the sinful instrument. That's what Disney says & what Disney says is TRUE!

Well, I live in a predominately Muslim country & although I wouldn't have liked the idea of illegally taking something any better in the U.S, I am particularly sensitive to such accusations here. Foreigner. No concrete understanding of the language. Going to jail is not. an. option. So you can imagine my sheer terror at the mere idea of stealing.

Story-time! Let me set the scene...

It is a beautiful, mildly chilly Friday afternoon & I have taken a ride to Mersin with my friend & fellow English Teacher, Angela. Her boyfriend drops us off at Forum, a local outdoor Mall then continues on to work (I know, I know - me shopping, weird). I have one goal & one goal only: find a warm, wonderful leather jacket. And coffee.

Angela & I grab a cup "to-go," which is a novelty here. Everyone sits to drink their coffee before continuing on with their day. Strange custom. Anyways, coffees in hand, we commence perusing the stores for sweaters & coats. Adana is colder than we thought it would be...

Three or four places in, I find a leather store & try on some jackets. One is a "maybe" so we continue to the next store where I have more luck but I'm still uncertain which one I should settle on. Angela suggests we walk around so I can "think about it." Great idea! There is a Turkish department store not far away that she wants to check-out.

Enter department store, browse racks, try on a few things, kill some time... no big deal. Angela finds a few vests she likes so we get a little girly & hog the dressing room mirror together, toss shirts, sweaters & vests of different sizes all around until we have the ones we like. For me, she picks out a goofy but adorable lounging tee with a Sherlock bunny & three cupcakes.

Yes, you read correctly.

The shirt is a size too large so I throw it on the chair behind me & ask her to grab a smaller size. She obliges. It fits. I decide it is too silly not to buy. We grab our purses, I grab my coat - let's go pay! With happy lil shopping bags in hand we head downstairs to walk through makeup on the way out of the store. And then it happens...

As we walk through the security sensor, lights & sounds go off. A little confused we both turn & show our bags plus receipts to the nearest sales-assistant. She nods in approval so they run Angela's purse & bag past the sensor. Nothing. Angela walks through the sensor. Nothing. My bag? Nothing... My purse... nope...

Now the security guard has come over. With a puzzled look on my face I brush my jacket by the sensor. Alarms go off. I am shocked. I unfold the jacket and to my bewilderment, the shirt I purchased falls to the ground. What. The. Fuuuudge.

I scream and cover my face with my hands. My eyes are wide & momentarily I feel like I should grab Angela & run because there is NO way we can explain this!?!

Instead, I immediately show the guard the shirt from my bag with the attached receipt. I shout "too large" while pointing to the identical item on the floor. All I am thinking is "You have GOT to be kidding me!" The shirt must have been under or in or between or around my coat & I accidently grabbed them both in the dash to leave the store! Surely he'll understand?

But, much like Aladdin, said Security Man pulls out an oversized knife. "Wow," I think "It really is just like the movies..."

JUST KIDDING!!

What really happened is Security Man & Sales Lady started laughing hysterically. Apparently my genuine yet ridiculous reaction was believable. Finally, through his laughter he managed to say "no problem, no problem..." & proceeded to take the shirt back upstairs. So I grab Angela & leave the store before anyone has a chance to change his/her mind about the events which have just transpired.

Outside, Angela is now laughing but my heart is still pounding out of my chest. All I can think is "Who would I have called from jail?" "What would they have done to me?" I then take a moment to share love & appreciation for both my hands.

Phew. Close call.

But all's well that ends well! I found a jacket at the next store & love my unexplainable sleeping-T. I never knew shopping could be so dangerous - lesson learned!

It isn't a complete story without photos....

I Can't Find My Size....

American sizes. European sizes. The even numbers or the odd numbers. Something runs small. Something else runs large. Many things just don't fit at all no matter the size.

Today is hard. Unexpectedly so. My "avoid and keep busy" coping mechanism failed me. Merely 22 days in but I feel I'm running out of techniques to overlook the things I miss & focus on the the things I like here. It isn't that there aren't things to like. Of course there are. It's less what is out there & more what is in here (points to self).

But I wouldn't have escaped her in the U.S, either. Maybe I should have left myself at home when I packed.

Over a year ago there was a dinner discussion one night on the topic of traveling & living amongst a new culture. I wanted this. I had an insatiable itch to move around & explore new places while meeting new people all at the same time. I feared without such opportunities the itch would never be scratched. I also feared the itch would be reoccurring - maybe on a yearly basis. But being young, it didn't hurt to find out... this was the life I saw for myself. A sort of vagabond, leave it all behind bohemian lifestyle that resurrected itself after a year or two of settling down somewhere, organizing & stabilizing. Two opposing ends of the spectrum forced to coalesce in one tiny 5 foot 3 girl.

But what can truly coalesce when forced? Nothing. It's like putting a size 8 girl in size 3 pants: you aren't hiding anything.

Ready to admit I feel bipolar & equally ready to admit I've followed the path that brought me half-way around the world whilst listening to my starry-eyed subconscious, I now have to admit: I can't find my size.

Not my clothing size. I found that here just fine... one dress, a pair of jeans and a new shirt later.

I meant my size in happiness. Because in this post we're attributing human dress sizes to happiness. Keep up, really.

I've been shopping for it. Looking all over the city each day. No luck. Maybe it is the labeling - with my limited Turkish vocabulary, maybe I can't read the packaging properly. They must sell happiness, right? Clearly I'm either a day late to the store, unable to see above the 3rd shelf or impaired by the all Türkçe. Wouldn't I recognize the packaging if I saw it? Maybe I've just got it all wrong.

I miss the happiness that was there for me each morning I woke up next to my boyfriend. The same happiness that was in a nice, pre-bottled container I could open then shower myself with as necessary. The grab-and-go happiness I found all over The City even immediately following Mr Subway Jerk or Taxi Driver from Hell. Happiness in so many forms I couldn't figure out which one to choose sometimes. I don't remember it being so difficult. Not to say I remember it being easy; but I certainly don't remember having to fight & work so hard for it.

Ah. I see now.

The cultivation of happiness from unhappiness.

Before now, I would have sworn mastery level at this. Unpleasant experiences thrown your way, trudging through the thick of it just to come out the other side mildly scathed yet the better for it. I've been here many, many times. I have! I know it. I remember. Patience was key - waiting it out, being strong enough to find something small each day that made you smile or laugh. Not looking back until enough time had gone by you were sure to see road behind you. Trying not to judge yourself harshly for the meltdowns. Yes, yes, yes. This is all checked off my To-Do list. So what is the problem here? Why am I finding this so difficult?

If you expected me to answer that, I'm sorry. I don't know yet. I have only guesses. Possibly the self-discovery process I've been catapulted into & all the long-hours awake this equates to. Staring at yourself in a mirror while wearing ill-fitting clothing isn't enjoyable.

Anyways, where I go from here is unclear but I do believe it will bring clarity in a way I hadn't bargained for. I look forward to the challenge the same way a girl shopping the day after Thanksgiving looks forward to a dressing room finally making itself available. You know it will happen... if you're patient. But how patient can you be? And how many times can you check your phone, hum along to the store's pre-holiday soundtrack or thumb through the closest rack, potentially adding another item to your pile? Yeah. You see my point. We've all seen the women in front of us abandon piles of clothes silently saying "I'll come back later" or "I didn't really want any of these anyways."

I won't do it. I'm waiting for the damn dressing room. Even if it takes all day. Let's just hope some of these clothes fit...

Kurban Bayram (and The Day of the Locked Door)

I just locked myself out of the apartment. How did I manage this? Well, a hospitable neighbor came by to wish me “Happy Bayram” and in an effort to actually speak with him, I shut the door on a barking Louie – momentarily forgetting that the door locks behind you.

Whoops.

Thank baby Jesus and all his godly friends – this man knew a locksmith who was not only in town for the holiday but was a mere “on beş” minutes (15) away. So I sat down on the steps to the 5^th floor and patiently waited while Louie frantically cried on the opposing side of our massive apartment door.

After 60 seconds of sitting (I know this because the hallway light only stays on this long) I stood up and used the railing to practice some ballet barre work. Right side. Turn light back on. Left side. Turn light back on. You get the idea…

While “enjoying” my workout, I realized that this being my 17^th day in Adana, it felt important to take a moment and reflect on what led me to my decision to accept this teaching position. Under the circumstances any positive, deep yet calm thoughts seemed appropriate.

17 days ago…

A conversation. It was the phone call I shared with Jovana, my boyfriend’s sister, shortly before boarding the flight from JFK to Istanbul. She was actually the last person I spoke to stateside and by that time I had cried multiple tears throughout the day. But it was only in speaking with her that I recognized what scared me so much about leaving NY/NJ and heading abroad. It wasn’t the standard “don’t speak the language,” “going to a foreign place,” “being far away from home” or “adjusting to a new job and living situation.” Sure those were concerns but nothing I hadn’t dealt with in the past and nothing that seemed overwhelming. I would learn the language, that I knew, and living in a different country would take some adjusting but was a dream of mine for too long to let that be a source of struggle. No, something else was nagging at me. I just couldn’t understand what it was … until I remember how I felt each time I “left” someplace in the past. New Orleans, DC, New York, Charleston… even one apartment for another, boyfriends, friends, family…

These other instances of moving on came about because I was ready to go. SO ready to go, I couldn’t possibly have stayed. More importantly, the moment of leaving didn’t feel like I was “leaving” behind anything at all. It felt only as if I was heading somewhere better to a place with infinite possibility and a new, improved me at the end of it. What I would find there would only make me happier. This is not to say it would all be rainbows and butterflies but any trouble along the way was merely a reminder that I’d have to fight for what I wanted and earn the life I dreamed of.

To put it more bluntly, each time I’ve left a place in the past it was with a good riddance attitude.

Back at JFK’s international terminal, this wasn’t at all how I felt... quite the opposite, in fact. I didn’t want to leave behind anything that I had in NY. Not the city, not the few friends I had there. And the key component – not my boyfriend or his family. For once, I felt at home. For once, I wanted to stay right where I was.

Yet there I was sitting with my dog waiting for a Turkish Airlines flight to Istanbul. The opportunity to travel abroad appeared and I took it because I needed to prove to myself that I could be challenged. I needed to take a risk on life. If I hadn’t moved, I would have always wondered how I might have handled it all. Would I have changed? What I would have learned? How it would have felt coming home…

So this is what I look forward to. The changes I will start to see in myself. The growth. The knowledge. The calmness. A gratitude that will come with knowing I did something not many people have the chance to do. I was fortunate enough to experience the world as an outsider, to exchange cultures and languages with people – some willingly and some by happenstance. Better yet, for the first time in my life I will experience the sensation of coming home to the open arms of my boyfriend and knowing without any shadow of doubt that I belong.

I could go halfway around the world and the world I left behind will be patiently waiting for me to return when I’m ready. This will be the ultimate prize for me. This will be what I work for each day as I immerse myself in the present - the full circle effect of coming and going - the love shaping that journey.

Minutes have passed and Louie has stopped barking. The locksmith comes and opens the door. I pay him 40TL and eat half a bag of Fritos out of mild frustration.

Then I sit to write this entry because it is true. I was scared to come. I am unsure of myself here at moments. Still, I feel inner warmth when I recognize my strength, persistence and channel the love that I carried with me over all those miles.

I only wish Louie could tell me how he feels about all this : )

10 + 1 Reasons to Love Turkey

1. That the caloric value of food is referred to as “energy” rather than calories and somehow makes me feel as if it has only positive energy with no negative effects.

2. Women here are plump and beautiful – a hard combination to find.

3. Medical care is willingly and easily forged when your insurance has not yet kicked in.

4. My newfound love of honey.

5. Turkish Dondurma (ice-cream) because it is so amazingly different from gelato or frozen yogurt.

6. Incredibly cheap pastries and bulk nuts (especially hazelnuts).

7. The availability of potato chips, sprinkles & Haribo gummy bears – because I already have to live without so many other things I will miss over 11 months.

8. Crazily inexpensive “within Turkey” travel. Thank you.

9. Hard Wax, Brazilian Keratin Treatments & beauty supplies at half the normal cost.

10. My students adoring the idea of me learning Turkish to the point of wanting to teach me all words they can translate between English and their native language.

11. The fact that this experience (or 2 weeks of it) is inspiring me to focus on the positive no matter what negative crosses my path.