I made it for Bulgaria or rather I should say I have successfully been deported to Sofia, Bulgaria and I'm staying with Lily and her family in their fantastic apartment here. The magical bus trip from Istanbul to Sofia was interesting to say the least. I nervously hopped a service bus from Kadikoy, after saying very hasty good-byes to Hazel, Gurkal and Ozlem (which was probably better because if I had taken the time to conceptualize that I was saying good-bye for possible 3 months I would have been a complete basketcase) and after about 45 minutes of driving I was dropped off at some other bus station on the Asian side. I got off the bus and realized that I wasn't actually at the Buyuk Otogar (the main bus station in Istanbul) only as my service bus was driving away and the little old lady who had been sitting behind me was anxiously asking me where the car was. I politely (or rather selfishly as the case may be) smiled and said that I did not know but I was going to go inside and ask someone. I wandered around, what can only be described as a dirt parking lot with a few random shops and a big Metro (the bus company) waiting room, desperately trying to find someone who would know what was going on. I went inside and asked the man behind the counter (of course prefacing my question with the obligatory turkish, I'm going to ask something phrase) what exactly I am supposed to be doing at this lovely roadside stop and why I'm not at the Buyuk Otogar. He gave me the typical 'Oh this foreign girl is speaking Turkish' look and plainly told me that I had to wait a hour and a half and then another service bus would come and take me to the Buyuk Otogar and then wait another half hour and from there we would go to Sofia. How silly of me! I should have known that I would have to take 2 service buses, 3 1/2 hours before my real bus left, and wait at random bus stops throughout Istanbul.
The bus trip itself was relatively smooth. There was no traffic and we made it to Bulgaria in about 6 hours. However when we got to the border we were subject to about 4-5 different security checks, each at which I waited in horror to see what the guards would say about my passport. Thankfully I passed all the checks without any problems and after the last one I practically ran back to the bus anxiously wanted to get to Sofia and get this show on the road.
However I was apparently the only passenger who simply wanted to cross the border...everyone else wanted, no needed, to go to the duty free shop and load up on cigarettes. The Turkish woman behind me asked me if I was going to buy cigarettes. The verb she used also meant to have and to take so I stupidly replied that I did not smoke and I did not have any cigarettes (keep in mind its 2:30 am and all I really want to do is sleep). She repeated her question about 3 more times, each time saying it a little louder because apparently when people say things to foreigners louder its easier for them to understand (?). Eventually she gave up on me and muttered something about annoying foreigners to her friend as they left the bus. Thinking I had dogged a bullet I happily closed my eyes and attempted to go back to sleep. Maybe about 2 minutes later I was josseled awake by the bus driver who was telling me it was time to leave the bus and buy cigarettes. The bus driver was clearly speaking Turkish with a Bulgarian accent and I was hoping that maybe he was just confusing his sentence structure, like I often do. But no, it was definitely time for me to wake up and buy cigarettes. He told me to get my passport and get off of the bus. Ok...? I got by passport and mindlessly began following him to the little duty free shop. The rush of cold air woke me up a little and gave me enough courage to explain to him that I do not smoke and I do not want to buy cigarettes. He simply smiled and said, no you are buying cigarettes for me, for me, with your passport. Having never made the border run by bus I still had no idea what he was talking about but I figured it was probably easier for me to do what he says quickly so I can get back to the bus and go to sleep. He handed me a little shopping basket, which he filled with about 10 10-packs of cigarettes and ushered me to the cashier. He bought about 4 packs first and then told me to hand the cashier my passport while not so stealthly giving me 100 euros under the counter. The woman packed up the bag, gave me change and told me I had to carry the bag out of the store. Way past the point of caring, I took the bag and returned to the bus only to be met by the angry stares of the two women sitting behind me, who I then realized also wanted me to use my American passport to buy cigarettes for them. Apparently a Turkish or EU passport has restrictions on the number of cigarettes (or possibly other goods) one can purchase from duty free. The thing one learns when crossing the Turkish-Bulgarian border...
When I arrived in Sofia I was super anxious to get to the Turkish Embassy but it was only 6 am and I knew there was no way the Embassy would be open before 8. I went inside the bus station, bought something that looked like a cheese filled roll and attempted to order a coffe but ended up with a plastic water cup with probably the most disgusting espresso I have ever tasted. At 8:30 I took a taxi to the Embassy, which was a pretty unappealing building that was covered in huge metal grates/gates/I don't know what to call them. It looked like a former military office that hadn't been used since the fall of Communism and I began to worry that I had been taken to the wrong place. Luckily a man walked out of the building and I was able to talk to him in Turkish and find out that I was in fact at the right place and it would open at 9:30.
I had a good hour to kill so I wandered around a little and found a pretty park to sit in and watch the people as they went about their morning routine, walking the dog, going to work, one man was going for a run and collecting leaves (in leather shoes, a sweater and slacks). I went back to the Embassy at 9:30, which of course was still closed, and waited outside with a number of other Turks until 10ish. Some man walked up as they were openning the doors and tried to cut me in line but I yelled at him in Turkish (probably more forcefully than necessary) and told him we had all been waiting a long time and he had to do that same. We were ushered into a tiny room that resembled a ticket office and I presented my case to the one and only open window. The man smiled at me and told me that I had to talk to his friend (who was sitting in the other window drinking tea and looking disinterested). He didn't really want to deal with my broken Turkish and called in a woman who spoke English, who was unsuprisingly terribly unhelpful. I won't trouble you with the details of my conversation, as ridiculous as it was, but basically they would not give me a visa because I did not have a Bulgarian residence permit. Blah.
So now I'm here in Sofia. I don't really know what I'm going to do with my life. I may be stuck here for 3 months. I'm trying to get the Embassy in DC to issue me a new visa but goodness only knows what they are going to say. My boss in Istanbul gave me a number of a Turkish man who a friend of a friend and is the principal of a school here in Sofia and said that he would help me. I haven't called him yet but there is a good chance I might be taking a 3 month vacation from my Istanbul wonderworld and living in Sofia. I'm trying to keep positive but I'm really just annoyed. Annoyed at the school for not doing what they were supposed to, annoyed with myself for standing by at letting this happen, annoyed that Hazel gets to stay in Istanbul comparatively problem-free, ugh just annoyed. Ok I've been on Lily's computer for a long time so it's probably time to venture out and face my Bulgarian reality.
Friday, 31 October 2008
Wednesday, 22 October 2008
My Life as an Illegal Alien
Life lesson #1: No matter how meticulously one plans out their life they must always prepare themselves for disaster.
Case and point: Before I came to Turkey I mapped out everything very carefully. My plane ticket was provided for me by the lovely people at the State Department, I had housing for the summer, I had signed a contract and had a job and free housing and/or a housing stipend waiting for me in Istanbul. However, surprise surprise when I got to Turkey things were not quite as simple as I thought they would be. My contact at the school had mysteriously gone missing and only resurfaced about 3 weeks before I was supposed to start work to tell me that she was no longer working with my school and she was sorry for the inconvenience...oh and I should probably contact the school because she was not sure whether or not they had secured my spot. That first speed bump was actually very quickly resolved after I went to the headquarters, demanded a job and then signed a new contract. At that time I made it very clear that I had arrived in Turkey in June on a tourist visa and would need them to get me a residence permit before September (when my visa expired). They casually assured me that I need not worry, they deal with these things all the time and it would not be a problem.
Naively I waited. My beloved little Hazel decided to stay in Istanbul and take a job at another school so we started to make our little Istanbul fantasy a reality and feather our lovenest. I emailed the school a few times before classes started and tried to arrange a time to go and get my permit but they kept telling me not to worry falan falan (and so on). Classes started, they were a total mess but they slowly slowly got better. I kept emailing and calling the school but no one seemed concerned about my quickly expiring visa except me. Turns out the reason no one was concerned was not because my situation did not merit concern but rather because the person who usually handles these matters had left the school and the remaining employees had absolutely no idea what they were doing.
So let´s skip the tedious details and flash forward to today. My visa expired a month ago. Turkish immigration regulations say that I must leave the country and I am not permitted to return for 3 months. However I went to the police station (a monstrous fortress of bureaucratic hell) and filed for a declaration for a visa, which basically says that I have acknowledge that I need to file for a new permit, I may legally stay in Turkey until November 3rd after which I must leave the country for one month before I can return. Yes, it is an improvement from 3 months but still one month is a long bloody time. I have been told that if I go and file for a new trouist visa in a country other than Turkey then there is a chance that they will be able to grant me that visa faster than one month and I would be able to come back. However no one really seems to know exactly what I should do. I have had a lot of people tell me that it really depends on the mood of the people I speak with. For example, there is a chance that the border guard could just let me back in if he felt like it but there is also a chance that he could be a complete (insert fervent bad word here) and make me stay the month.
Luckily I actually have a friend who lives in Sofia, Bulgaria and has very very generously offered to let me stay with her while I sort this mess out. My plan as of right now is to finish out the week, take a bus to Bulgaria on Sunday or Monday and the second I cross that border go to the Turkish Embassy in Sofia and submit my visa application.
However another big headache to add to my already body numbing Turkish migrane is, what will my school do without for one month or even 2 weeks? I have been assured that when I return I will have a job with the umbrella company that runs my school, possibly working at one of the other campuses but I dont want to have to start all over again. I really like the people I work with and I have really started to build a relationship with my students. Every Thursday and Friday after school I run this program called VIP Fun Club (I didnt pick the name) and we do little projects, read plays or sing songs as extra English practice. Only 16 students can come each week and they have to come and ask me permission to be in the club or be choosen by their teacher, hence the VIP, its very exclusive. Anyway its been going really well and we actually have a lot of fun together. Its a nice chance to get to know the kids and I feel like each week we are actually accomplishing things because the students who come all want to be there and are all very eager to participate. I have another student who rides the afternoon bus with me who speaks almost perfect English because she used to live in America and has become my little buddy. Sometimes I sit with her and her class during lunch (teachers do that here, its not just me being super cool). I met her Mom the other day and they have invited me over for breakfast or lunch one weekend. This whole process is most frustrating because I want to be able to continue to build relationships with my students and really become a part of the community here but I cant do that if I am uprooted and placed in a different school.
Its all pretty much out of my hands so I all I can really do is wait and see what happens. I wrote the headquarters yet another angry email yesterday basically demanding that I be compensated for my time in Bulgaria because this whole issue is their fault and NOT mine. I have not heard anything back from them and honestly I dont really expect to. I have a feeling that I will have to make the hour and a half bus ride to the office and yell at someone in person, most likely in broken Turkish. They are already paying for my round-trip bus tickets but I am really going to push as hard as I can to be paid all of my salary...keep your fingers crossed.
Case and point: Before I came to Turkey I mapped out everything very carefully. My plane ticket was provided for me by the lovely people at the State Department, I had housing for the summer, I had signed a contract and had a job and free housing and/or a housing stipend waiting for me in Istanbul. However, surprise surprise when I got to Turkey things were not quite as simple as I thought they would be. My contact at the school had mysteriously gone missing and only resurfaced about 3 weeks before I was supposed to start work to tell me that she was no longer working with my school and she was sorry for the inconvenience...oh and I should probably contact the school because she was not sure whether or not they had secured my spot. That first speed bump was actually very quickly resolved after I went to the headquarters, demanded a job and then signed a new contract. At that time I made it very clear that I had arrived in Turkey in June on a tourist visa and would need them to get me a residence permit before September (when my visa expired). They casually assured me that I need not worry, they deal with these things all the time and it would not be a problem.
Naively I waited. My beloved little Hazel decided to stay in Istanbul and take a job at another school so we started to make our little Istanbul fantasy a reality and feather our lovenest. I emailed the school a few times before classes started and tried to arrange a time to go and get my permit but they kept telling me not to worry falan falan (and so on). Classes started, they were a total mess but they slowly slowly got better. I kept emailing and calling the school but no one seemed concerned about my quickly expiring visa except me. Turns out the reason no one was concerned was not because my situation did not merit concern but rather because the person who usually handles these matters had left the school and the remaining employees had absolutely no idea what they were doing.
So let´s skip the tedious details and flash forward to today. My visa expired a month ago. Turkish immigration regulations say that I must leave the country and I am not permitted to return for 3 months. However I went to the police station (a monstrous fortress of bureaucratic hell) and filed for a declaration for a visa, which basically says that I have acknowledge that I need to file for a new permit, I may legally stay in Turkey until November 3rd after which I must leave the country for one month before I can return. Yes, it is an improvement from 3 months but still one month is a long bloody time. I have been told that if I go and file for a new trouist visa in a country other than Turkey then there is a chance that they will be able to grant me that visa faster than one month and I would be able to come back. However no one really seems to know exactly what I should do. I have had a lot of people tell me that it really depends on the mood of the people I speak with. For example, there is a chance that the border guard could just let me back in if he felt like it but there is also a chance that he could be a complete (insert fervent bad word here) and make me stay the month.
Luckily I actually have a friend who lives in Sofia, Bulgaria and has very very generously offered to let me stay with her while I sort this mess out. My plan as of right now is to finish out the week, take a bus to Bulgaria on Sunday or Monday and the second I cross that border go to the Turkish Embassy in Sofia and submit my visa application.
However another big headache to add to my already body numbing Turkish migrane is, what will my school do without for one month or even 2 weeks? I have been assured that when I return I will have a job with the umbrella company that runs my school, possibly working at one of the other campuses but I dont want to have to start all over again. I really like the people I work with and I have really started to build a relationship with my students. Every Thursday and Friday after school I run this program called VIP Fun Club (I didnt pick the name) and we do little projects, read plays or sing songs as extra English practice. Only 16 students can come each week and they have to come and ask me permission to be in the club or be choosen by their teacher, hence the VIP, its very exclusive. Anyway its been going really well and we actually have a lot of fun together. Its a nice chance to get to know the kids and I feel like each week we are actually accomplishing things because the students who come all want to be there and are all very eager to participate. I have another student who rides the afternoon bus with me who speaks almost perfect English because she used to live in America and has become my little buddy. Sometimes I sit with her and her class during lunch (teachers do that here, its not just me being super cool). I met her Mom the other day and they have invited me over for breakfast or lunch one weekend. This whole process is most frustrating because I want to be able to continue to build relationships with my students and really become a part of the community here but I cant do that if I am uprooted and placed in a different school.
Its all pretty much out of my hands so I all I can really do is wait and see what happens. I wrote the headquarters yet another angry email yesterday basically demanding that I be compensated for my time in Bulgaria because this whole issue is their fault and NOT mine. I have not heard anything back from them and honestly I dont really expect to. I have a feeling that I will have to make the hour and a half bus ride to the office and yell at someone in person, most likely in broken Turkish. They are already paying for my round-trip bus tickets but I am really going to push as hard as I can to be paid all of my salary...keep your fingers crossed.
Sunday, 12 October 2008
The Misadventures of Boncuk Patlıcan (and Savaş)
Hazel and I took a major step in our relationship and got a cat this weekend. Well that cat was given to us by a friend whose cat had 2 kittens, but as of Sunday October 12, 2008 (12 Ekim) our lovenest has grown to an occupancy of 3. The decision to get a cat started out as me desperately trying to convince Hazel that it would be the perfect solution to our (ahem...my) loneliness. But seeing as Hazel does not believe in domesticated animals she was not exactly thrilled about it. Luckily the day we went to go visit the kittens for the first time was a particularly fantastic Saturday, which we had spent wandering around Taksim with Gürkal and Alper and by the time we got to Alper`s apartment our spirits were high and we were in an I love living in this amazing city mood. Sometimes I forget that Im living in one of the most amazing cities in the world because my life has settled down and started to feel very normal. On weekends when we go explore or have little outings that require me to take a ferry or bus to the European side, I am reminded where I am and immediately get this rush of excitment. A couple weekends ago we (the collective Hazel and Sarah unit) met a bunch of friends on the European side and went to go see a Dali exhibit at a small gallery, sat by the Bosphorus and had tea and basically relished how fantastic our lives were/are.
Back to the point, our kitten is the tiniest little marmalade stripped dream, who loves to cuddle on people`s shoulders and sleep in the nook around your neck. After a great amount of discussion we decided to name him Boncuk Patlıcan (Bon-juk Patla-jan), Boncuk is apparently the name Turks give cats because everytime we would ask someone what we should name our cat they would immediately offer up Boncuk. Patlıcan means eggplant but Hazel and I like to call each other patlıcanım, literally meaning my eggplant but canım is a term of endearment like my dear or darling (although it actually means my soul) so we put extra emphasis on canım when we call each other patlıcanım. Boncuk Patlıcan is still getting used his new apartment and refuses to sleep in the snazzy bed I splurged and bought him but he has already brought new warmth and fun into our apartment and I am actually feeling a little bit of separaton anxiety being at work while he is home by himself probably going nuts and peeing on everything. Actually that is not true, bless his heart, Alper house trained him before he gave him to us.
This weekend I started my second job at an English language center in Kadıköy. I am teaching 2 different classes there, 3 times a week (Sat 9:30-1:20 and Tues/Thurs 7:00-9:00). My classes are supposed to have 15 students ages 16-30 but not everyone showed up for the first class and a lot of them left half way through or came late, but I guess they are paying for the course so they can come and go as they please. I think it will be a nice opportunity to meet new people and make some extra money with minimal effort. The other people who work there are all about my age or a little older and seem fun and interesting. I feel like a complete fraud though because most of my students are older than I am and definitely view me as this silly little girl who is only their teacher because she is an American living in Istanbul, which of course is completely true. The institute also uses books that teach British English, which I am slowly discovering is quite different than American English. For example, instead of saying I have a book they say I have got a book. There are other stupid grammatical differences but I am drawing a blank.
It is amazing how much we (Americans) take the English language for granted. I just happened to be born in the US and learned English as my native language but for the rest of the world English is a highly prized commodity that can open all sorts of social, political and most importantly economic doors. My friends who work at the hotel where I lived in this summer are a good example of the value of English. They are all from Eastern Turkey and migrated to Istanbul at a very young age, many without completing high school, in search of better employment opportunities. For some families it is better for their child to quit high and go find work in a big city rather than wait to finish school and miss 2-4 years in which the child could bring in an additional income. My friend Mehmet is 23 and works the late night-morning shift at the hotel almost everynight. He is learning English but is not fluent enough to work during the day. When he learns enough he will be able to work during the day and subsequently earn more money. From what I understand he finished high school but he did not attend college. He desperately wants to go to college but he cannot pass the very rigorous entrance exam that all Turkish students must take to gain college acceptance. I thought I had it bad with the SATs but really they were cake. Every student in Turkey takes this exam and their score not only determines which university they will attend but also what field they will be able to study. The highest scores study engineering and I know a number of kids who got high scores, dont want to be engineers but still study engineering because it is just what you do. In Turkey you also do not apply for different schools, you are selected by the university according to your score. Everyone takes the exam process very seriously and many kids spend an entire year just studying.
Because this university entrance process is so competitive there are a great number of kids who do not even consider college as an option and drop out of high school without regret because they know that continuing their education is not only costly but unrealisitic. My friend Savaş is the perfect example of a bright and dilligent kid who dropped out of high school for financial reasons. Savaş is a 16 year old kid from a small town in Northeastern Turkey. He speaks Kurdish (Kırmancı) and Turkish and is trying to learn English but doesnt really know much besides what would you like to drink. He is living in the basement of the hotel and working as a waiter but because the cook was fired, he is now working as the cook. We became good friends over the summer because at night when I would be sitting down in the lobby studying he would always bring me tea and help me with my Turkish. He actually helped me move into my first apartment in Kadıköy and carried my ridiculously large bag for me from the hotel, to the ferry and all the way up the hill to the apartment, it was pretty epic. I dont know if it is just because I miss my own brothers (which I obviously do so dont worry) but I feel a real closeness to him and a maternal(ish) compulsion to help and protect him. I mean I work with children all day and I am 23 now so I guess that old clock has started ticking. I really want to teach him English and Ive given him little practice sheets with basic conversations on them and vocabulary that are relative to the hotel business.
Yesterday he met me in Kadıköy for brunch and we wandered around, had some coffee, some breakfast and chatted. I cant imagine what it must be like to be a 16 year old kid living alone in a city like Istanbul. Savaş and Mehmet are actually cousins and come from the same village. They have this mini community here, mainly boys, who have migrated from their village to live and work in Istanbul. I used to be really fixated on finding a way for Savaş to finish high school but I am slowly beginning to understand that a high school degree in the US and in Turkey do not hold the same value. He has been a really great friend to me so far and I know its a little strange that one of my best friends here is 16 but it is what it is and I really hope that I can find a way to help him break out of this work cycle that seems to trap people into food services.
I am really struggling with what I perceive to be good and what others believe to be the best thing for them. I have been very fortunate to grow up in an environment where I was always completely and utterly provided for (probably even spoiled), whether that be food, shelter, clothing or education. I actually took that trite expression you can be whatever you want to be seriously and thus far I have been able to live pretty much exactly the way I want to live. But how do you tell someone who moved from an impossibly small village in Northeastern Turkey to Istanbul to work that you think they could be doing more? That there are greater opportunities out there but they have to give up what they have now, go back to school and work hard for another couple of years before they can take advantage of them. So far, Ive decided that for now the best thing I can do is just be their friend, remind myself that I am no one´s mother and help them with English.
Back to the point, our kitten is the tiniest little marmalade stripped dream, who loves to cuddle on people`s shoulders and sleep in the nook around your neck. After a great amount of discussion we decided to name him Boncuk Patlıcan (Bon-juk Patla-jan), Boncuk is apparently the name Turks give cats because everytime we would ask someone what we should name our cat they would immediately offer up Boncuk. Patlıcan means eggplant but Hazel and I like to call each other patlıcanım, literally meaning my eggplant but canım is a term of endearment like my dear or darling (although it actually means my soul) so we put extra emphasis on canım when we call each other patlıcanım. Boncuk Patlıcan is still getting used his new apartment and refuses to sleep in the snazzy bed I splurged and bought him but he has already brought new warmth and fun into our apartment and I am actually feeling a little bit of separaton anxiety being at work while he is home by himself probably going nuts and peeing on everything. Actually that is not true, bless his heart, Alper house trained him before he gave him to us.
This weekend I started my second job at an English language center in Kadıköy. I am teaching 2 different classes there, 3 times a week (Sat 9:30-1:20 and Tues/Thurs 7:00-9:00). My classes are supposed to have 15 students ages 16-30 but not everyone showed up for the first class and a lot of them left half way through or came late, but I guess they are paying for the course so they can come and go as they please. I think it will be a nice opportunity to meet new people and make some extra money with minimal effort. The other people who work there are all about my age or a little older and seem fun and interesting. I feel like a complete fraud though because most of my students are older than I am and definitely view me as this silly little girl who is only their teacher because she is an American living in Istanbul, which of course is completely true. The institute also uses books that teach British English, which I am slowly discovering is quite different than American English. For example, instead of saying I have a book they say I have got a book. There are other stupid grammatical differences but I am drawing a blank.
It is amazing how much we (Americans) take the English language for granted. I just happened to be born in the US and learned English as my native language but for the rest of the world English is a highly prized commodity that can open all sorts of social, political and most importantly economic doors. My friends who work at the hotel where I lived in this summer are a good example of the value of English. They are all from Eastern Turkey and migrated to Istanbul at a very young age, many without completing high school, in search of better employment opportunities. For some families it is better for their child to quit high and go find work in a big city rather than wait to finish school and miss 2-4 years in which the child could bring in an additional income. My friend Mehmet is 23 and works the late night-morning shift at the hotel almost everynight. He is learning English but is not fluent enough to work during the day. When he learns enough he will be able to work during the day and subsequently earn more money. From what I understand he finished high school but he did not attend college. He desperately wants to go to college but he cannot pass the very rigorous entrance exam that all Turkish students must take to gain college acceptance. I thought I had it bad with the SATs but really they were cake. Every student in Turkey takes this exam and their score not only determines which university they will attend but also what field they will be able to study. The highest scores study engineering and I know a number of kids who got high scores, dont want to be engineers but still study engineering because it is just what you do. In Turkey you also do not apply for different schools, you are selected by the university according to your score. Everyone takes the exam process very seriously and many kids spend an entire year just studying.
Because this university entrance process is so competitive there are a great number of kids who do not even consider college as an option and drop out of high school without regret because they know that continuing their education is not only costly but unrealisitic. My friend Savaş is the perfect example of a bright and dilligent kid who dropped out of high school for financial reasons. Savaş is a 16 year old kid from a small town in Northeastern Turkey. He speaks Kurdish (Kırmancı) and Turkish and is trying to learn English but doesnt really know much besides what would you like to drink. He is living in the basement of the hotel and working as a waiter but because the cook was fired, he is now working as the cook. We became good friends over the summer because at night when I would be sitting down in the lobby studying he would always bring me tea and help me with my Turkish. He actually helped me move into my first apartment in Kadıköy and carried my ridiculously large bag for me from the hotel, to the ferry and all the way up the hill to the apartment, it was pretty epic. I dont know if it is just because I miss my own brothers (which I obviously do so dont worry) but I feel a real closeness to him and a maternal(ish) compulsion to help and protect him. I mean I work with children all day and I am 23 now so I guess that old clock has started ticking. I really want to teach him English and Ive given him little practice sheets with basic conversations on them and vocabulary that are relative to the hotel business.
Yesterday he met me in Kadıköy for brunch and we wandered around, had some coffee, some breakfast and chatted. I cant imagine what it must be like to be a 16 year old kid living alone in a city like Istanbul. Savaş and Mehmet are actually cousins and come from the same village. They have this mini community here, mainly boys, who have migrated from their village to live and work in Istanbul. I used to be really fixated on finding a way for Savaş to finish high school but I am slowly beginning to understand that a high school degree in the US and in Turkey do not hold the same value. He has been a really great friend to me so far and I know its a little strange that one of my best friends here is 16 but it is what it is and I really hope that I can find a way to help him break out of this work cycle that seems to trap people into food services.
I am really struggling with what I perceive to be good and what others believe to be the best thing for them. I have been very fortunate to grow up in an environment where I was always completely and utterly provided for (probably even spoiled), whether that be food, shelter, clothing or education. I actually took that trite expression you can be whatever you want to be seriously and thus far I have been able to live pretty much exactly the way I want to live. But how do you tell someone who moved from an impossibly small village in Northeastern Turkey to Istanbul to work that you think they could be doing more? That there are greater opportunities out there but they have to give up what they have now, go back to school and work hard for another couple of years before they can take advantage of them. So far, Ive decided that for now the best thing I can do is just be their friend, remind myself that I am no one´s mother and help them with English.
Tuesday, 7 October 2008
Only 28 hours and 140 YTL to revisit a past life and remind you how happy you are to be living your new one
For the Şeker Bayram Hazel and I hopped a bus (a 14 hour bus) down to Alanya to escape rainy cold
It’s funny because I am so used to being perceived as a foreigner in Turkey but because Alanya is chalk full of, as Hazel so eloquently put it, “some really strange looking” blonde Scandinavian, Russian and German types, people barely gave me a second glance. Dr. Kay (one of my
The waiter/bar tender population of Alanya is really fascinating. All of these young men, probably starting at age 14, travel to Alanya from the East, looking for work and the opportunity to mingle with the hordes of blonde women that frequent the Alanya’s beaches seriously looking for a good time. So Alanya is teeming with these uber-eager and over gelled young men who basically spend all day having fun with their buddies and hitting on beautiful women. I can’t decide if I am jaded because I’m secretly jealous that I’m not an adolescent boy who gets to basically live in a hormonal paradise or if it is really outrageous…I’m thinking it’s probably a combination of the two but a little bit more of the later.
When I lived in Alanya I frequented this bar called SkyBar because we were friends with all the guys who worked there and it was one of the few places in Alanya that I could be 100% sure that what I ordered would be the same thing that was placed in my drink. I kind of left on bad terms with some of the guys there and really did not want to go back but then I saw one of them ride past us on their scooter and decided that the potential for a fantastically awkward situation was just too great to pass up. Hazel and I went with her 2 host brothers and were basically greeted with dropped jaws by all of the guys there. It was totally strange and awesome. It was also one of the first times I actually had a real conversation with these guys in Turkish because goodness knows my Turkish 2 years ago was complete fluff.
Another place we frequented was this Türko (traditional Turkish music) Bar called Çello, which we of course returned to and had a lovely drink there with Dr. Kay. All of the wait staff remembered us and were super excited that we came back. Cello is great because it’s not the strobe light, clothing optional, pounding bass bar typically found in Alanya but rather usually frequented by local young and old Turks alike. There is a band that plays and people sit around sipping on a drink, eating nuts, and jump up and break out into traditional dances when the mood strikes them. The dancing is usually a line of people holding hands dancing around the room and the two people on the end usually hold napkins and flag them up and down as the group makes its moves. I don’t really know how to do it justice but it’s just fantastic, good clean fun. It’s something that all ages of Turks love and have no qualms about doing together and calling it a raging Saturday night.
I think I’m going to add more to this later but I want to cut it short so it doesn’t become too overwhelming…to the 4 people that read this that is…Char and Sammy.
Wednesday, 17 September 2008
Fighting the good fight
Before I left for my semester abroad in Turkey in the Spring of 2007 (ages ago...) I attended a pre-orientation session that attempted to prepare me for all of the vast and challenging differences between American and Turkish culture. Although there are obvious differences, I felt like they were exaggerated in order to better prepare us for our big adventure abroad. Yes, some women cover their heads. Yes, some people pray 5 times a day. (Don't tell anyone but people do that in the US too...) But my first encounter with Turkish culture was not shocking at all but rather incredibly warm and inviting. It was not until after I returned to the States and took a series of in depth courses on Turkish government, history, and culture that I begin to fully understand and appreciate all of the idiosyncrasies of the collective Turkish identity.
The big sore spots of the united Turkish nation are the Armenians, the Kurds and the nature of secularism. At Georgetown I wrote a series of papers on these issues, which I would be happy to share, but for the sake of time and general interest I will try and keep this entry to recent and ridiculous personal experiences.
The Armenian Issue: During the Ottoman Empire Turks and Armenians lived together in relative harmony (relative being the key word) until the great expulsion of the Armenians between 1915-1918, an issue that continues to serve as a tremendous source of conflict between the neighboring nations. There are still a great number of Turks that have Armenian ancestors, however the majority of them consider themselves to be Turkish through and through. My real estate agent was an exception to this majority.
I first met Can Bey when I wondered into his office with a Turkish male friend of mine who was helping me look for apartments. Can Bey did not have anything that we were looking for so we left and continued the search. A few days later, I wandered back into his office and only realized I had been there before about 10 minutes into my second cup of tea and the conclusion of my well rehearsed "I am an American, teaching English at a private elementary school who wants to live in Kadıköy with another female American teacher" speech. Let's just say it's far more impressive in Turkish... So anyway, I was desperately trying to sell myself to this man and get him to help me because I had been turned away by a number of other real estate agents who did not rent to foreigners (charming people) because foreigners, especially women, will use their apartments to have relations with a number of random men and shame the rest of the apartment building. Lucky for me, Can Bey was a decent elderly gentleman, who appreciated the fact that I spoke Turkish and was very helpful in finding me an apartment in a safe, quiet and affordable area. After we went together and looked at the apartment (the one I am currently living in aka the lovenest) we went back to his office to discuss logistics. He took a long sip of his tea, an even longer drag of his cigarette, glanced out the window, turned dramatically towards me and said, "Sarah you are an American, I am Armenian. I understand your situation and I know what it is like to live as an outsider. We will get you this apartment (rough translation from Turkish)." Apparently in his eyes, deep-seated culture and religious conflict between 2 nations was akin to whatever he perceived to be my daily struggles as an American girl living in Turkey (being perceived as a promiscuous foreigner?). So what does one say to that? Yes thank you, I appreciate all of your help Can Bey and I will see you tomorrow...
The Kurdish Issue: The Kurds are an ethnic minority who have lived throughout Iran, Iraq, Syria and Turkey for centuries. They are commonly lumped together under one monolithic identity but in reality there are 4 different Kurdish languages, all of which are not mutually comprehensible. The two most common dialects are Kurmanji and Sorani, but I have also met a number of Kurdish Turks who speak Zaza. Kurdish is considered a rather stigmatized language because it had been banned since the start of the Republic and has only been legalized within the last decade or so. As a result it is almost impossible to find a book, magazine, or newspaper written in Kurdish. Most of the Kurdish Turks I have befriended can speak Kurdish but are unsure how write it. The majority of the staff at the hotel where I stayed this summer was Kurdish and as a result I have had a bit of exposure to Kurmanji and Zaza. I really really want to Kurmanji and have this fantastic plan of going and living in Eastern and sitting and having long chats with the amcalar (a term meaning uncle but you can basically call any elderly man amca) and learning how to cook with the teyzeler (aunt, same deal as amca) and hearing stories of their parent's adventures in Turkey during the Ottoman Empire. I'm thinking first I'll try and learn Turkish and then put the moves on Kurdish.
The other day I was visiting a friend at her family's office where she works with her father. This is the same family who took me and Hazel in the night we were homeless. During this particular visit our friendly chitchat somehow turned into a heated discussion about whether or not there was such a thing as Kurdish culture. The father was arguing that Turkish and Kurdish are the same and I, of course, was respectfully arguing the opposite. Our little 2 person discussion quickly grew to a room full of 6 or 7 people, who all crowded in to hear what the silly American girl thought she knew about Turkey. My friend's father called downstairs and had the building's security guard leave his post and come upstairs to talk to me because he was Kurdish and apparently was going to reinforce the belief that not only was there no such thing as Kurdish culture but there is no reason for me to want to learn Kurdish. The security guard only added to the complete pandemonium because he embodied all of the extreme stereotypes that many Turks attribute to the Kurds; loud, difficult to understand, very dark complexion, and extremely argumentative. I couldn't really understand the majority of what the security guard said but I'm pretty sure he was loving the fact that I knew how to say a few things in Kurdish and that I was arguing with his boss about how the Kurds have been historically repressed throughout the region and are often viewed as second class citizens.
My big moment came when I interrupted the conversation, which at quickly spiraled out of control and politely asked my opposition (in what I perceived to be fantastic Turkish), "may I ask you a question?, if Turks and Kurds share the same culture and history then why was Kurdish banned at the beginning of the Republic and continued to be an illegal language well into the 1980's?" BAM. I thought I was totally back in the game but then my friend's father turned around and pulled a giant picture of Atatürk out from behind his desk and hit me with the big, do you know who this gentlemen is...? Do I know who Atatürk is? These people clearly had not realized that 1. I was Turkish in another lifetime 2. I have studied Turkish history and most importantly 3. anyone who has been to Turkey and possesses the gift of sight is familiar with Atatürk (because he is in every shop, building, school, and there are probably statues of him every two city blocks in Turkey). We ended the conversation prematurely, both because we weren't really getting anywhere and also because my friend wanted to go get some tea and leave work.
Needless to say there is still much more to be said on both of these issues and as my Turkish improves I plan on talking to more people and trying to build a more complete and circumspect picture of the who, what, where and why of these invaluable pieces of Turkey.
The big sore spots of the united Turkish nation are the Armenians, the Kurds and the nature of secularism. At Georgetown I wrote a series of papers on these issues, which I would be happy to share, but for the sake of time and general interest I will try and keep this entry to recent and ridiculous personal experiences.
The Armenian Issue: During the Ottoman Empire Turks and Armenians lived together in relative harmony (relative being the key word) until the great expulsion of the Armenians between 1915-1918, an issue that continues to serve as a tremendous source of conflict between the neighboring nations. There are still a great number of Turks that have Armenian ancestors, however the majority of them consider themselves to be Turkish through and through. My real estate agent was an exception to this majority.
I first met Can Bey when I wondered into his office with a Turkish male friend of mine who was helping me look for apartments. Can Bey did not have anything that we were looking for so we left and continued the search. A few days later, I wandered back into his office and only realized I had been there before about 10 minutes into my second cup of tea and the conclusion of my well rehearsed "I am an American, teaching English at a private elementary school who wants to live in Kadıköy with another female American teacher" speech. Let's just say it's far more impressive in Turkish... So anyway, I was desperately trying to sell myself to this man and get him to help me because I had been turned away by a number of other real estate agents who did not rent to foreigners (charming people) because foreigners, especially women, will use their apartments to have relations with a number of random men and shame the rest of the apartment building. Lucky for me, Can Bey was a decent elderly gentleman, who appreciated the fact that I spoke Turkish and was very helpful in finding me an apartment in a safe, quiet and affordable area. After we went together and looked at the apartment (the one I am currently living in aka the lovenest) we went back to his office to discuss logistics. He took a long sip of his tea, an even longer drag of his cigarette, glanced out the window, turned dramatically towards me and said, "Sarah you are an American, I am Armenian. I understand your situation and I know what it is like to live as an outsider. We will get you this apartment (rough translation from Turkish)." Apparently in his eyes, deep-seated culture and religious conflict between 2 nations was akin to whatever he perceived to be my daily struggles as an American girl living in Turkey (being perceived as a promiscuous foreigner?). So what does one say to that? Yes thank you, I appreciate all of your help Can Bey and I will see you tomorrow...
The Kurdish Issue: The Kurds are an ethnic minority who have lived throughout Iran, Iraq, Syria and Turkey for centuries. They are commonly lumped together under one monolithic identity but in reality there are 4 different Kurdish languages, all of which are not mutually comprehensible. The two most common dialects are Kurmanji and Sorani, but I have also met a number of Kurdish Turks who speak Zaza. Kurdish is considered a rather stigmatized language because it had been banned since the start of the Republic and has only been legalized within the last decade or so. As a result it is almost impossible to find a book, magazine, or newspaper written in Kurdish. Most of the Kurdish Turks I have befriended can speak Kurdish but are unsure how write it. The majority of the staff at the hotel where I stayed this summer was Kurdish and as a result I have had a bit of exposure to Kurmanji and Zaza. I really really want to Kurmanji and have this fantastic plan of going and living in Eastern and sitting and having long chats with the amcalar (a term meaning uncle but you can basically call any elderly man amca) and learning how to cook with the teyzeler (aunt, same deal as amca) and hearing stories of their parent's adventures in Turkey during the Ottoman Empire. I'm thinking first I'll try and learn Turkish and then put the moves on Kurdish.
The other day I was visiting a friend at her family's office where she works with her father. This is the same family who took me and Hazel in the night we were homeless. During this particular visit our friendly chitchat somehow turned into a heated discussion about whether or not there was such a thing as Kurdish culture. The father was arguing that Turkish and Kurdish are the same and I, of course, was respectfully arguing the opposite. Our little 2 person discussion quickly grew to a room full of 6 or 7 people, who all crowded in to hear what the silly American girl thought she knew about Turkey. My friend's father called downstairs and had the building's security guard leave his post and come upstairs to talk to me because he was Kurdish and apparently was going to reinforce the belief that not only was there no such thing as Kurdish culture but there is no reason for me to want to learn Kurdish. The security guard only added to the complete pandemonium because he embodied all of the extreme stereotypes that many Turks attribute to the Kurds; loud, difficult to understand, very dark complexion, and extremely argumentative. I couldn't really understand the majority of what the security guard said but I'm pretty sure he was loving the fact that I knew how to say a few things in Kurdish and that I was arguing with his boss about how the Kurds have been historically repressed throughout the region and are often viewed as second class citizens.
My big moment came when I interrupted the conversation, which at quickly spiraled out of control and politely asked my opposition (in what I perceived to be fantastic Turkish), "may I ask you a question?, if Turks and Kurds share the same culture and history then why was Kurdish banned at the beginning of the Republic and continued to be an illegal language well into the 1980's?" BAM. I thought I was totally back in the game but then my friend's father turned around and pulled a giant picture of Atatürk out from behind his desk and hit me with the big, do you know who this gentlemen is...? Do I know who Atatürk is? These people clearly had not realized that 1. I was Turkish in another lifetime 2. I have studied Turkish history and most importantly 3. anyone who has been to Turkey and possesses the gift of sight is familiar with Atatürk (because he is in every shop, building, school, and there are probably statues of him every two city blocks in Turkey). We ended the conversation prematurely, both because we weren't really getting anywhere and also because my friend wanted to go get some tea and leave work.
Needless to say there is still much more to be said on both of these issues and as my Turkish improves I plan on talking to more people and trying to build a more complete and circumspect picture of the who, what, where and why of these invaluable pieces of Turkey.
Sunday, 14 September 2008
Testing 1 2 3
After a great deal of resistance to the idea of a blog I have finally given into the inevitable take over the technological revolution. When I first moved to Istanbul, I deluded myself into thinking that I would be able to write weekly or even monthly emails giving family and friends updates but as the school year starts I am finding it even more difficult to motivate myself to sit down and type out emails about the going ons of my life. O zaman (therefore) blog it is.
Living in Kadikoy, a quasi-hipster area on the Asian side of Istanbul is just as wonderful as I thought it would be. Although there are a number of yabancilar (foreigners) wandering around, it isn't nearly as overwhelming as Sultanahmet (home of the Aya Sofia and the Blue Mosque) or Sirkeci, where shopkeepers automatically start speaking to you in English and ignore my attempts to engage with them in Turkish. Despite being surrounded by Turkish I am finding it difficult to build on my language skills outside of my mastery of the basics. For example, when I go into a restaurant I can order food, chat it up with the waiter and ask for the check like a pro but there are times when I'm talking to someone and I literally cannot understand entire sentences or things they are telling me. It's both embarrassing and frustrating and I've decided it's time to seek outside help aka a tutor. I'm thinking one of the dark, mysterious and male variety but right now as long as they speak Turkish and will let me pay them next to nothing, they will suffice.
My school started last week and it was rocky to say the very least. I am the native English teacher for grades 1-5 and each grade has at least 3 different levels of English. I probably have about 100 something students and meet with each class twice a week. The week before classes started I was supposed to go through a week of training but I really just went to school and helped the other teachers cut, color and paste things to decorate their classrooms and the school itself. The first day of class started off really exciting because all of the kids were so psyched to be there and see their friends again. As an opening ceremony of sorts, everyone met in the parking lot in front of the school and they kids recited the Turkish school pledge:
Türküm, doğruyum, çalışkanım. Yasam küçüklerimi korumak, büyüklerimi saymak, yurdumu, budunumu özümden çok sevmektir. Ülküm, yükselmek, ileri gitmektir. Varlığım Türk varlığına armağan olsun.
The basic gist of the which is embodied in the first sentence, "I am Turkish, I am right (true/correct) and I am hardworking." This pledge has been recited in all Turkish elementary and middle schools since the beginning of the Republic (1923) and is one of the many great legacies of the great founder of the Turkish Republic, Mustafa Kemal Ataturk. A few kids then recited what I assumed to be famous poetry (emphasis on assume because I did not understand anything) and then the gym teacher rallied the students, cued the cymbals and electric keyboard (anxiously waiting on the wings) and the school sang a song that sounded like a military march but was probably something similar to our National Anthem. It was really interesting being an outsider and watching this all unfold. It all seemed like a very strange exercise to me, with a hint of militaristic socialism but when I thought back to my elementary school experience and how every morning we would all stand up, put our hands on our hearts and pledge allegiance to the United States of America, I guess it's not that strange at all and only appears so to those who were brought up with different (yet equally conformist) customs.
Ok enough of that, my kids are great. Some are totally mystified by the fact that I am America and only want to ask me about what the US is like and whether or not I know Kobe Bryant (which of course I always reply yes, because well, I'm pretty sure I do know Kobe Bryant). Some classes do not understand a word of what I say and just look blankly and disinterested while others have a solid command of the basics and can follow my instructions. It is definitely going to be a challenging year, balancing the different levels of English and continuing to pretend that I don't speak Turkish or understand their never-ending pleas (teacher I do not understand anything you are saying). It's hard now but I know in the end that if they think I do not understand Turkish then they will be forced to think of ways to express themselves in English and will eventually benefit from it....until that moment I will just have to live with a tremendous amount of guilt and heart-wrenching pain when I look at my sad and frustrating little students. The great thing about the student-teacher relationship in Turkey is that outside of the classroom they are very loving. My colleagues are constantly hugging and giving little kisses to the students and the students in turn come up to us and give us big hugs and kisses. It's wonderful. The other day I was sitting and eating lunch and I had a group of girls just come up to me and give me big hugs and ask, "how are you Sarah Teacher?" (In Turkey surnames are not used and one would call their teacher Sarah Hoca or Sarah Teacher. The Sarah Teacher thing seems like a language cross-pollination gone terribly wrong but who am I to say that they should change it?) It's pretty adorable and it really helps counter the overwhelming feeling of hopelessness that tends to occupy the majority of my day.
Tomorrow starts week 2 (Classroom Rules). Keep your fingers crossed for me that I figure out what to do with these kids for another week before the official curriculum begins.
Living in Kadikoy, a quasi-hipster area on the Asian side of Istanbul is just as wonderful as I thought it would be. Although there are a number of yabancilar (foreigners) wandering around, it isn't nearly as overwhelming as Sultanahmet (home of the Aya Sofia and the Blue Mosque) or Sirkeci, where shopkeepers automatically start speaking to you in English and ignore my attempts to engage with them in Turkish. Despite being surrounded by Turkish I am finding it difficult to build on my language skills outside of my mastery of the basics. For example, when I go into a restaurant I can order food, chat it up with the waiter and ask for the check like a pro but there are times when I'm talking to someone and I literally cannot understand entire sentences or things they are telling me. It's both embarrassing and frustrating and I've decided it's time to seek outside help aka a tutor. I'm thinking one of the dark, mysterious and male variety but right now as long as they speak Turkish and will let me pay them next to nothing, they will suffice.
My school started last week and it was rocky to say the very least. I am the native English teacher for grades 1-5 and each grade has at least 3 different levels of English. I probably have about 100 something students and meet with each class twice a week. The week before classes started I was supposed to go through a week of training but I really just went to school and helped the other teachers cut, color and paste things to decorate their classrooms and the school itself. The first day of class started off really exciting because all of the kids were so psyched to be there and see their friends again. As an opening ceremony of sorts, everyone met in the parking lot in front of the school and they kids recited the Turkish school pledge:
Türküm, doğruyum, çalışkanım. Yasam küçüklerimi korumak, büyüklerimi saymak, yurdumu, budunumu özümden çok sevmektir. Ülküm, yükselmek, ileri gitmektir. Varlığım Türk varlığına armağan olsun.
The basic gist of the which is embodied in the first sentence, "I am Turkish, I am right (true/correct) and I am hardworking." This pledge has been recited in all Turkish elementary and middle schools since the beginning of the Republic (1923) and is one of the many great legacies of the great founder of the Turkish Republic, Mustafa Kemal Ataturk. A few kids then recited what I assumed to be famous poetry (emphasis on assume because I did not understand anything) and then the gym teacher rallied the students, cued the cymbals and electric keyboard (anxiously waiting on the wings) and the school sang a song that sounded like a military march but was probably something similar to our National Anthem. It was really interesting being an outsider and watching this all unfold. It all seemed like a very strange exercise to me, with a hint of militaristic socialism but when I thought back to my elementary school experience and how every morning we would all stand up, put our hands on our hearts and pledge allegiance to the United States of America, I guess it's not that strange at all and only appears so to those who were brought up with different (yet equally conformist) customs.
Ok enough of that, my kids are great. Some are totally mystified by the fact that I am America and only want to ask me about what the US is like and whether or not I know Kobe Bryant (which of course I always reply yes, because well, I'm pretty sure I do know Kobe Bryant). Some classes do not understand a word of what I say and just look blankly and disinterested while others have a solid command of the basics and can follow my instructions. It is definitely going to be a challenging year, balancing the different levels of English and continuing to pretend that I don't speak Turkish or understand their never-ending pleas (teacher I do not understand anything you are saying). It's hard now but I know in the end that if they think I do not understand Turkish then they will be forced to think of ways to express themselves in English and will eventually benefit from it....until that moment I will just have to live with a tremendous amount of guilt and heart-wrenching pain when I look at my sad and frustrating little students. The great thing about the student-teacher relationship in Turkey is that outside of the classroom they are very loving. My colleagues are constantly hugging and giving little kisses to the students and the students in turn come up to us and give us big hugs and kisses. It's wonderful. The other day I was sitting and eating lunch and I had a group of girls just come up to me and give me big hugs and ask, "how are you Sarah Teacher?" (In Turkey surnames are not used and one would call their teacher Sarah Hoca or Sarah Teacher. The Sarah Teacher thing seems like a language cross-pollination gone terribly wrong but who am I to say that they should change it?) It's pretty adorable and it really helps counter the overwhelming feeling of hopelessness that tends to occupy the majority of my day.
Tomorrow starts week 2 (Classroom Rules). Keep your fingers crossed for me that I figure out what to do with these kids for another week before the official curriculum begins.
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