On Turkish Turf

The Marriage Talk

2010-02-26T21:48:00.000-08:00

February 5, 2010

Over the two week vacation I learned a lot. I learned why Islamic Nation does not celebrate Easter, What marriages are unlawful by the Qu'ran, How to make Kosma and a lot in addition. What stuck closest to me is something I learned from my host mother. I explained to her how the women in my family are not married. I explained to her that it is nothing we planned it has just turned out this way over the last several decades, generations. I also made it clear to her that someday I want to be a wife but I do not know how for the fact that I lack an example. The society I come from works in ways so that women can survive with out men and the women in my family have been living accordingly: A generational Curse I call it. Next, I asked her if she could teach me. She replied to say that she could not teach me such a thing: how to become a wife but, "STAYING a wife was simple." She told me two things, she told me to never forget them; 1) You will not meet your husband until 2-3 after the honeymoon so giving up before then would be unfair. 2) "Birakmazsin" You do not let go. She then reassured me that I have nothing to worry about becoming a wife but there are things I need to learn to stay one. "Learn to be commentless sometimes, let him have the last word chances are he knows you're right." She told me she can smell my potential thru my skin... But will he?

February 4, 2010

2010-02-26T21:29:00.000-08:00

It seems as if everything is within a few steps of vanishing: my experience, my vacation, my life in Turkey. It feels like just yesterday I was in a rush to get back home. In an ongoing rush to pack my bags and fly back to the Los Angeles that is not any golder than I left it. I miss my job, my car, my things and not to mention my family. However, now things are becoming clearer in a different perspective. I am suprisingly dreading leaving my life here: my town, my school, the relationships I've built, oh and not to mention my family. Initially I did not think it was possible to have a family both at home and abroad. Now that I will be leaving them I feel like a rock falling above a spider's web. I am anticipating hittig rock bottom soon. I fnd myself torn between two homes, two places with many different values. I find myself more emotional and more attached than ever. This is such an emotional rollercoaster, but the ride is almost over I guess...

Elma Toplamak...Apple Picking.

2010-01-19T15:01:00.000-08:00

So on the 17th, Rebecca and her family held Fatihah and I hostage for eleven hours. Our day started at 9:00a and ended at 8:00pm. First we went to a beautiful orchard to collect apples and picnic. It took 15 minutes alone to drive into the orchard (did I mention Rebecca’s dad did 100mph all the way there) and another 10 minutes to walk through the woods, past the creek and up to the apple trees. It was a rather enjoyable walk… on the way there. I found the shortest tree and began my collecting while Mustafa Amca and Ozhan, Rebecca’s father and younger brother hopped on in a tree. I guess I was going about this all wrong. Fatihah was helping Gülşen Teyze, Rebecca’s mom sort the good apples from the bad apples, and Rebecca was near-by catching the apples Mustafa Amca and Ozhan were throwing down. Feeling a little out of place, I decided to join Rebecca. We collected about 200 red apples. Afterwards, we had a picnic. Sesame Börek and Vişne suyu. We talked for a while and then got back to work. Since, Mustafa Amca and Ozhan were making the climbing look so easy I decided to join … why in the heck did I do that ? Before asking how I was going to get down! I was fine at first picking and throwing, throwing and picking. All of a sudden… the branch holding all 60 kilos of me began to move. My first thought was “down I go”! Apparently, Mustafa Amca and I were now sharing a branch that makes 60 kilos times two plus some on one branch! Okay 1,2,3… “panic mode”. Mustafa Amca get off my branch, get your own! Of course I didn’t say that but if I knew how in Turkish…! I wanted to jump down but I’m 4’11… that’s a long way down lol. I resulted to a rather loud yell and then bracing myself while Mustafa Amca continued tos hake the branch we were sharing. Eventually I made it down and of cpurse til this very day… Mustafaf Amca giggles when he sees me. By now we had collected 250-300 apples. Hardwork had obviously paıd off only we stil had a debt. Tha long “enjoyable walk” this time back from the trees, past the creek, through the woods and to the car… Oh yeah the 250-300 apples lol! You think you know but you have n idea, “Ernek gibi çalışyordum” I worked like a horse! After packing all the apples in to the trunk we headed back into town . We stopped at the top of the mountain to take pictures of the city below and then Mustafa did his 100mph all the way back to Şarkikaraağaç.

December 28, 2009

2010-01-15T11:41:00.000-08:00

      I sometimes feel like a foreign postcard in a large postoffice: but instead, I am simply a Black-American in a small Turkish town. Everyone is reading me, this postcard. Considering that I am written in a language that they are not very familiar with, they take the words they know and make of them what they wish. My every action, my every word, my every opinion:in the public eye and most of the time its texture wrongly fabricated (usually not in my favor). Here I am, on front stage like a financial proposal before the House of Representatives during a recession. Everyone's attention is focused in my direction. The lights are shining in my direction and they seem to be noting my every flaw: in search of a Revote, some even a Veto.

     Other times, I feel like a manakin on display in a department store window only I am modeling a Burga, a BLACK one of course. This manakin cannot be aggressive it does not work in the tinted window she must stand before. They can only recognize the sillhouette of her Burga. She has no hair to feel the breeze, no nose to breath (privacy) and as far as I can see no mouth. She could possibly have a mouth full of English that no one understands which translates directly into no form of communication. There are no colors on her clothes, no freedom nor expression. She is limited to the two eyes she peers out from: seeing, watching, silently observing. Now that I think about it... I have not seen her ears. What could she be hearing? I imagine her hearing little if any Turkish.

    In Muslim countries, I have observed that hair symbolizes freedom. Young girls unveil themselves in public as a form of rebellion against their fathers and the rest of the non-secular population. Why can she not express herself? Why can she not hear? Why is she unable to unveil herself? And why does this manakin in this Burga sound like me? Why have I, the usually outspoken me, been rolling with all the punches being thrown? Lately, I have a reluctant nod to every opinion expressed at me, frequently leaving mines left unsaid and equally unheard. In Turkish, there exist no words to express myself and I have yet to find a color other than Black. Sometimes I have to hold my breath. Here, privacy: unheard of and what The Man says goes, something new to me whether it be expressed in Turkish or English.

    It seems as if the teeth of everthing I do or say here: innocent or michievious, go thru a sharpening process before coming back to bite me in the ass: OBSERVED, ABSORBED, DISECTED, REFORMED and REPEATED. The only thing that continues to bother me is that for 18 years, I have been nothing less than myself and here I am on the other side of the ocean writing about how I would like to be myself... I wonder how long this will last. 4 down, 6 to go.... currently fighting to live of my experience rather than in it.

Christmas Away From Home...

2010-01-15T11:00:00.000-08:00

On Christmas Eve, I received the box my family sent. I was so excited to open it, I think I became two years old all over again! The box...OH THE BOX was ull of presents. I had almost forgotten Christmas was a day away before opening the box. The wrapping paper, confetti and the 10" Christmas Tree... it was the happiest moment I had since I've been here. In a place where Christmas is unheard of and coming from a place where it is everything and it fitting in a box was heart warming. In this moment, I was in my own world in Turkey almost. They should start selling Christmas in a box! I may have figured out why I hate Christmas... the spirit during the season is the only thing that makes it alive; the decorations, the christmas trees, the gifts... without its is simply December 25. It's temporary happiness, people have allowed this holiday to loose its meaning and boundaries. No one sits around with family anymore and just appreciate each other or the moment in itself. Instead we hop from house to house fixing plates and seeing what else ther is to collect. This year I lived without Christmas other than wha was sent to me in a box... I survived even though I lived 18 years within it.

December 19, 2009

2010-01-15T10:32:00.001-08:00

So my birthday party was held at the Turkish Bakery with ten of my turkish friends, Fati and Rebecca. It was American all over even though I was told it would not be. We took pictures, cut cake, blew out candles, sang Happy Birthday and I received gifts from almost everyone that came. Happy Born Day to me in Turkey!

My First Turkish Hamam Trip

2010-01-15T10:29:00.000-08:00

On December 18th, Sero came into town. We convinced him to take us to Isparta! We arrived at a quarter to eleven and had breakfast at the Simit Cafe. Shortly after, we set out to find a Hamam for women. What we did not find out until later was that this day was a test to determine whether we could travel to Isparta alone in the future. We had to ask for directions in Turkish, the three of us... and Sero just watched (cruel right)! It turnedout to be fairly easy and we learned that all the major shops are on one straight strip. After walking about 30 minutes and asking a million and one questions we finally found the Hamam! Sero decided to wait for us in a cafe across the street (now, before I go on I must first say that I do not think Sero will ever take us to a Hamam again lol). So we went in, Rebecca, Fatihah and I and we were completely clueless. I have been to enough spas but never a Turkish Hamam. We were given lockers for our personal items, issued towels and then directed to the changing rooms. We undressed down to our undies and towels and then proceeded to the bathing room, the sauna. Not. HAMAMS ARE MOST DEFINITELY UNDER RATED! We had baths, deep tissue scrubs and last but not least... massages on the center of a hot rock! Besides the old women staring that have never seen naked brown skin, tattoos or perky breasts, I had a great time! However, this trip to the Hamam that was supposed to last 45 minutes turned into 2 and a half hours.... and boy was Sero bothered!!!! If we want to go back I'm certain we'll get the permission to go alone because I doubt Sero waiting in a cafe again for 2 and a half hours. Be back later with details about my birthday party.

The Whirling Dervishes of Mevlana

2010-01-15T06:56:00.000-08:00

On December 17th, the other girls and I took a trip to Konya, the most religious city in Turkey. AFS managed to snag is seats at Sema: the prayer and ceremony of The Whirling Dervishes of Mevlana. Rebecca, Fatihah and I, our day started at 4:00am. We had to take a three and a halfv buss ride from Sarki Karaagac. Upon or arrival we were greeted by the other Amber and Sadie from Canakkale and while waiting for the Adana girls we had a brief breakfast. We soon found out that they would not arrive for ours and of course… we decided to SHOP! (Okay off topic for a sec, Sarki is a small town, a village hell and Konya is one of the largest cities in Turkey). We managed to find a mall, (which I have not seen in 16 weeks) boy was I excited! Not only was this mall similar to the ones residing in Los Angeles but the walls inside were decked with Christmas decorations! There was a food court, jungle gym, huge department store similar to Macy's or Sears and not to mention AMERICAN TRADE PRODUCTS! After spending about an hour in the mall, the girls from Adana arrived and we got our day started. We went to a restaurant in Konya for lunch. So AFS's choice was lamb, which I was not expressed to us til after we ingested it. We were told that we would be eating meat that, "melts in your mouth." I should have no comment at all but I will say... inereting. After the "melted meat", we went to the Buyuksehir Belediyesi Mevlana Kultur Merkezi, where Sema (The prayer) would be held. There were thousands of people there from all over the world, representing almost every nationality: Turks, Germans, Russians, Koreans, Africans, Indians and of course us the Americans. The show was opened with a performance given by a live band. Next, the history of Mevlana was presented. Apparetly, he died on my birthday, December 17, 1273 and was the father of mysticism. After the history was presented, Sema began. The first Dervish came out and placed a red sheep skin over the prayer rug. The Sema musicians came in shortly after. Once the music began the additional 25 Dervishes filed in. The were wearing the brown hat representing Mevlana's Tomb and a black robe representing the flesh and worldly comforts. Underneath the rob the wore white skirts symbolizing the spirit. The prayer started with four selams (greetings) between each Dervish. They performed th selams while still coated in the "wordly comforts", the black robes. After the four selams, the Dervishes removed their robes and formed a line. There were two higher Dervishes: one determining when they can pass the highest Dervish during the whirling while the other gave them the initial blessing to begin whirling, one after another. These two higher Dervishes stay in their robes ( I was told that this is because they can communicate with God in the flesh or the spirit). The line of 24 Dervishes beagn to move forward and receive their blesslings form the higher Dervish and then began to whirl. The whirling lasted about 5-10 minutes at a time and then they cleared the floor and gathered in groups of 2-3 around the arena. A minute or two after, the whirling began again. During the whirling the Dervishes held their heads slightly tilted to the right, their right hand extended out and bent upwards (receiving God's blessing) while their left hand held extended outward and bent downwards (delivering the blessings to the Earth). After the ceremony was over the Dervishes dressed back in the “flesh”, a part of the Qu’ran was recited and they then returned back to their caves for meditation. The same Dervish that place the sheep skin prior to the performance, received it once all the Dervishes exited. After Sema, the group and I went to the museum about Turkey’s war for independence and later the Tomb Of Mevlana. At Mevlana’s Tomb, again there were hundreds maybe thousands of people there. Inside, people were sitting as well as standing along the walls in prayer and in trances (sorry readers cameras were not allowed). Mevlana’s Tomb was the largest and it was green and decorated with prayers from the Qu’ran. His father is buried behind him on a tilted angle. Rumor has it, his father’s tomb tilted on its own in respect due to Mevlana and his great works. In addition, Mevlana’s immediate relatives, close friends and some of his students are buried there as well. On display in glass cases, throughout the Tomb/Museum, are his instruments, The Original Versions of the Qu’ran, his rugs and clothes from his home as well as Muhammed The Prophet’s beard. On this last note the people visiting the tomb had to have been the most spiritual people I have ever seen.

Another Phase of Temporary Hostility

2010-01-09T02:52:00.000-08:00

When I signed up for this experience I knew everything would not be clear skies and sunny days. I anticipated feeling afraid, scared, indifferent, angry and of course crying. I did not think it would be easy living here for a year. However, I never imagined becoming so uncomfortable that I would want to throw my entire scholarship away and return home early. AFS warned us about the many negative emotions that would come while being abroad, the chances of changing families at least once, getting sent home early and/or not being able to adapt to your host family or your host family not being able to adapt to you. All I could think to myself through those orientations was, "NOT AMBER BROCK!" Now that I am facing the reality that being here is character building I guess I counted my chickens before the hatched. I have never been a quitter nor a weak individual, but I must make it clear to you all... an experiece abroad (not CAN but) WILL bring the strongest people to their knees. When you take a soldier from his base, or a gangster for his own stomping grounds... he tends to back into a hot corner and dry up like a raisin in the sun, in the face of a fight: fruitless, fightless. I truly believe I still have some fire in me but being so far from home... the fight in me has vanished. In this type of experience I have come to learn that you ONLY loose when you fight back. In addition, after you have lost the fight and chances are that you will there is only one place to run to...back to your home abroad, where the fight began. I have never felt so stripped from my comfort zone that I could not be myself, feeling like I do not even know myself... it feels like Modern Oppression at times! Here the only thing that has always separated me from the other: my strength, has been snatched and its intensity drained until it takes on a pale white shade. COLORLESS, Lifeless, Strengthless. Everybody keeps telling me to enjoy my next 7 months here and duke it out, but how do I drift off to sleep at night in such discomfort, 7 months is a long time.... I'll tell you how long in fact: 212 days, 30 weeks and some change, or about five thousand and eighty-eight hours. This emotional rollercoaster is no fun and I pray that this too passes!

P.S. Romans 5:3-5 and 12:12

And not only so, but we glory in tribulations also; knowing that tribulation worketh pantience; And patience experience, and experience hope: And hope maketh not ashamed, because the love of God is shed abroad in our hearts by the Holy Ghost which is given to us.

Rejoicing in hope; patient in tribulation; continuing instant in prayer.

Older Diary Entries

2010-01-09T02:14:00.000-08:00

October 2, 2009

Back to hostility... this time it is not even cultural. I can not believe I passed Chemistry with an "A" no point less than 100 in the states. Now I'm here in Turkey, in Kimya, without a dog gone clue! Pause... WTH! In addition I have only been here a month and some change. How in the hell will I make it a whole nine months in the future? Past transition and trapped in what seems to be confussion: I have wet feet.

October 7, 2009

Lately, all I want to do is TURN IT OFF! Flip the channel, turn my heador simply put a period on it: The Turkish. It's everywhere, i am submerged, I am drowning. The radio, the television, every single conversation, it's muttered in my dreams! Uhhhhhhhhh!

There is no doubt that I have acheived, "Home Sweet Home" in my experience. In fact I may have surpassed it. I am potty trained to the squat pot (lol), I have learned the madness to the shower room and drain, I can prepare a few Turkish meals and I have learned how to ignore my brat of a brother.... but dog gone it, THE TURKISH!

October 28, 2009

We just had a Felsefe Sinav (Philosophy Exam) and afterwards Emrah HC, the instructor made paper planes out of the exams so he could sail them to the trash can across the room. He later gave an explanation for his doings which I of course did not understand... I hope this will not be his Philosophy for the next exam I work hard on LOL!

December 1, 2009

I am beginning to believe that I should sit still sometimes, OK..... Most Of The Time! I called myself "cleaning house" before my host mother came home from work, well I always do. This is not the first time that I messed something up but damn I did it this time, the other stuff managed to be fixable. I broke the handle on the washer machine... :-( My host mother's response was "bos ver" (don't worry) but how embarassing. How in the hell will we get the clothes out the washer now?

"The life which is unexamined is not worth living" -Socrates

2009-12-05T05:04:00.000-08:00

Before my arrival here, I knew I was living a life in the lap of luxary. However it had not dawned on me that my life had maybe even been a, "boss's life" lol. None of the things in my life seemed superficial until I lost all access. My car, my cell phone, my computers, a complete collection of The Sims one two and three, my camera, my calculator, the bathtub, the television and cable, my mom's humongous collection of movies, freedom of fashion and speech, even my job. I could go on for days, maybe even weeks but the point I am trying to prove is that I failed to realize I was clinging to these things. For one, the monetary value of these things never dawned on me because I had a job and money to spend. Now, the realization that all things are impermanent has me feeling as if their superficiality was trying to make a fool of me: placing me in the highest spot amongst my peers and then anticipating my huiliation once all was lost. The pain of al being lost managed to remain intangible and well hidden until I got here, to Turkey. I guess after your hands are sour from wringing every piece of clothing before hanging it on the line to dry, you really begin to think and wonder, "If I had not brought all these damn clothes, I would not have to wash them." Maybe that will not do it for you... maybe its the well need nap after digging potatoes out of the garden all morning for dinner that will snatch from your dream and pull the wool from your eyes. Possibly, its the backache you endure after sweeping your shower water into a tiny drain so your family will not have to swim to the toilet. What ever it takes for you to realize that all things are impermenant and that thou shall not cling... by all means remain humble. What ever might be your signal to start examining the worth of the life you are living... let it come soon. With all these things gone I thought I would die but now I see that until I learned to die was it then shortly after that I really began to live. The air here tastes better now that I can clearly see the color of my surroundings. I feel as if I had been, "sleepwalking all these years." -Morrie (Tuesdays with Morrie) I feel as if something perpetual had tricked me because all along everything around me was semi-perpetual and that's something that I cannot even paint a picture of. A painter can paint a portrait of you and include the Benz you drive, the mansion you live in, the Gucci shoes you wear, the gold drapping your neck but you and only you can determine the color that the canvas wiil bleed. Shall it be crimson or ruby, purple or blue, whether it be black or brown, your destined reguards and your future remain colorless and the material things will vanish.

Kürban Bayram

2009-11-28T08:23:00.000-08:00

So I guess I lied... Kürban Bayram is nothing, NADA like Thanksgiving! What I'm about to describe is rather graphic so PLEASE READ WİTH YOUR OWN DİSCRETİON!

My family and I woke up at about 6:00 am yesterday morning to clean the house from top-to-bottom (temizlik, in Turkish). Something similar to Spring Cleaning only this was far more intense. We washed walls, floors, surfaces, clothes...pretty much everything. We vacuumed every floor and rug... even the corners and the cobwebs. LOL! You get my drift I hope. After, the males in the house, actually every house in Turkey left for morning Cami (call to prayer). In the meantime, my host mother and I prepared breakfast; potatoes, eggs, a variety of cheeses, fresh olives, fresh honey (the kind still in the honey comb), tomatoes, cucumbers, tea and of course the FRESH Turkish Bread that my host dad gets from the bakery every single morning. Soon after, my dad and my two brothers returned from Cami and Abdula Amca and İşmael joined us. I was under the impression that this was all preparation for Bayram... little did I know it had already began. The cow that my family was sacraficing was patiently waiting in the back of Abdula Amca's truck parked in the front of our house. Allof a sudden breakfast had turned into a rush and before I knew it we were in the car headed to the place where this cow would be sacraficed (Fatih, Erkek Yurdu, all I know is Erkek=male I couldn't tell you what the rest means lol). Now, I had heard a little about this Bayram before my Fatih but when I say little TAKE THAT LİTERALLY... it was in Turkish for good heavens. I was warned about the blood and warned about the cold air but there was no way that I could be prepared mentally. Black shoes and a thick coat just wouldn't cut it. Ok I'll cut the crap now... on one side of this building, there were cows everywhere chained to trees and tractors waiting for their turn to be sacraficed. On the other side of this building, "it was going down". Cows were being tied, tipped over and slaughtered! so it didn't dawn on me that these cows knew exactly what was going on until one got a loose LMAO! It was on! It was like a movie, here were four men trying to trap and catch this big cow that had every idea that it was his turn to hit the "chains". These men were sliding on "fall" tree leaves! Finally they caught him. I don't think I ever paid so much attention to the behavior of animals. These cows were giving hell; mooing, rubbing noses together to try and get the ties a loose and alltogether kicking for an in more of life... for one last breath. This all was happening too fast for me to even attempt to cover my eyes and at the moment I knew it was something I'd never get to experience again. Anyways, this is how it went; the butcher chose the next cow to be butchered, DRUG it to the "chains"(the chains being the machine that straddled the legs and tipped the cow over) and I say drug because these cows were aware and reluctant. Afterwards, the cows legs were tied up and this cow was lifted a little more than an inch of the ground. Then, before the sacrafice was performed, the butchers recited a prayer from the Holy Qu'ran (something to the nature of: God gave the animals to the earth for the people to feast during Kürban month, and then they feasted) then the cows throat was severed. Blood was shooting everywhere and at this point I was begging my tummy not to let go. The cows let out a loud piercing cry and gave its last kicks before its organs gave in. After that, the cow was placed on thie tray with wheels moved towards this large area so the blood could drain from its body. After it finished draining and the head was removed it again was tied and lifted to be skinned and gutted. It's hide was whisked to one side of the building and its intestines and internal organs to another. After the body was lowered, cut into portins and distributed to its sacraficer.

I might have something very intellectual to say about this experience later but as of now all I can think of is, "What The Hell." This is for three reasons: I'm not finished telling my story, the cow is still stretched across the kitchen (which happens to be the room adjacent to where I'm writing this journal entry) and I had beef for dinner.

After our cow was sacraficed it was placed back in the trunk of Abdula's truck in portions and then we headed home for who in the hell knows next. When we get home, I don't know what I imagined happening but it could not have been anything close to what I'm about to explain. I came in the house leaving the bloody shoes at the door of course and ready to get out of everything I was wearing even though I had not directly made contact with any meat or blood...YET. After changing clothes I come out of my room, which is directly across from the kitchen, to find half of a cow laying across the kitchen table and the rest on the floor leveled table and some in a bucket near by. And again, all I could think was, "What The Hell!"

Now the night before Bayram I asked my host dad what to expect and I thought I understood him saying that the cow was coming home but it didnt dawn on me until after I saw this cow meat, the same cow that had just been sacraficied, laying on the kitchen table. My mom, in addition had been huffing and puffing about Bayram for 2days and again, it wasnt until that moment that I understood why... and it was a little too late to withdraw the help I had promised her. In case you missed my implication... the rest of the butchering would be done by my host dad, my host mother, MYSELF... and at the kitchen table. NO COMMENT! We made it home after the sacrafice at 11:37 am Nov.27.2009, and here I am Nov.28.2009 writing about it at 1:35pm. Oh yeah, the meat is still laid across the entire kitchen drying. About two thousand DOLLARS worth of beef..... ONCE AGAİN NO DAMN COMMENT!

November 26, 2009

2009-11-28T07:21:00.000-08:00

So today is Thanksgiving in America. I guess I can mark 2009 as my first Thanksgiving away from home. I didnt realize that I had been taking this day for granted. I never knew or even imagined I would be longing for that dinner and conversation with my family that I before believed to be more casual than traditional. I figured since I'm missing out on thse elements of the "Turkey Tradition" (which is ironic because they rarely eat Turkey here) I'd at least take the time to jot down the things that I'm thankful for, I mean that's what this day is about right?
-I'm first thankful for God... I know that with him all things are possible and obtainable.
-I'm thankful that he woke me up this morning to enjoy my family here in Turkey and appreciate the family I have back at home.
-I'm thankful for the 18 years that He has blessed me with, and might I add plentiful.
-I'm thankful for the people he put in my life both for a reason and a season. For its the seasonal people that clarify the purpose of those in my life with reason.
-'m thankful for this opportunity that he has blessed me with .,f I weren't here I wouldn't have this journal nor its entries.
-I'm thankful that I have a clear head (half the time LOL), peace of mind,strength, and clarity! These are the only things (aside from the support of my family here and abroad) that will guide me thru these next seven months.

Thats all I have for now it's 10:00pm in my timezone. But I'll be adding on all week.....maybe all month.

P.S. Tomorrow is Kürban Bayram. This is the bayram when the animals are sacraficed. It so far seems to be their form of Thanksgiving but I guess I'll find out when the cow arrives, see you then!

November 24, 2009

2009-11-28T07:00:00.000-08:00

So today is Öğregtmenler Günü (Teacher's Day) and my dad decided that I was going to work with him. I didn't expect it to be so thrilling. It started with the honor s-ceremony at Central which is where the entire town meets to kick off a holiday. Of course every school was there with their Turkish flag as well as their school flags, we sung the national anthem, and since my dad is the Minister of Education he did the kick off by wishing everyone a, "Öğretmenler Günü Kutlu Olsun."

Shortly after a meeting at his office we visited Çicekpınar Elementary School in Çicekpınar about 20 minutes outside of town. There the teachers were given roses and pendants. Also, the children performed the traditional Turkish Dance in honor of all the teachers. It was beautiful! Afterwards, inside this rather large auditorium the children recitied poems, sang songs and put on plays for the teachers and the city officials. To conclude the program the teachers made a pledge to always teach dignified and with love and pleasure and all that other good stuff. Later outsied, while waiting for my father to salute the city officials and all his fellow conrads (which always takes a hell of a long time for whatever reason) I got bum-rushed by about a hundred elementary school students and about a million and one questions came along with them. "Adınız nedir (What is your name), kaç yaşındın (how old are you), Nerelisiniz(where did you come from), etc?" They took a bunch of unexpected pictures and then without my awareness, organized a line for everyone to take pictures with me one-by-one! They were all so cute. The part that warmed my heart was when they followed me and my dad all the way to the car and then chased the car waving and yelling that they loved me as we drove off! Boy I love Turkish kids... their innocence is priceless!

November 21, 2009

2009-11-28T06:43:00.000-08:00

So today Fatihah and I had a lunch date at Mevlana Lokantası. I could go into detail about our meal, the dessert and the tea and coffe we had but that isn't the purpose of this journal entry. We happened to be sitting at the first table facing the clear windows and doors. We expected everyone to stare and whisper as they passed and well... they did. However, there were two young boys that came along. I'm guessing that they were 7 or 8 years old because they were fairly small but old enough to be out playing alone. One of the little boys had on a blue shirt and blue jeans while the other had on a red shirt, black jeans and a power ranger mask. The one in red was holding a metal bar that appeared to had fallen offof a rail near by and it happened to be shaped like a gun. As they passed we couldn't help but to giggle at how cute they were. The one in blue caught a glimpse of us giggling thru the window . He told his friend, "the little red bandit" as I call him now. Boy didn't they have a field day after that. They were so entertaining! They began to "shoot at us" thru the window. LOL! At first we just giggled and after a while we decided to play along. They pretended to shoot us and we pretended to be shot! We were falling all over each other grabbing our chests like we were in so much pain. By mind you... we were sitting at the first table in the nicest restaurant in our town, and oh yeah we were the only Americans. Not that we needed anymore attention but now, on public display we were horse playing with two little boys thru a glass window. Eventually, it got old and Fatihah and I tried our best to get back to our meal but the two rascals just wouldn't quit and now they were disturbing everyone's meal. Not to mention the PERFECT machine gun sound effects that they were making. After about ten minutes they were still at it and now the restaurant owner was a bit disturbed.... okay maybe a lot. He sent the cook outside to chase them away. They were gone for max, a minute and a half. But afterwards they were right back in the window putting on their show.Now we were watching the cook chase these little boys back and fourth (which could not have been sanitary since he was going back in the kitchen to cook LOL, but tthat's on another note) thru the glass window along with everyone else in the restaurant. Us being the origin of this catastrophe... we decided to pick up our tab and make an escape while everyone was distracted LOL! We made it about ten feet from the restaurant before we heard those same perfect machine gun sound effects. It turned out that we were being followed by "the little red bandit" and his accomplice. Fatihah snapped apicture of and it was on again. The followed us for about 15 minutes. In this 15 minutes they managed to get the whole town's attention, keep up the sound effects and ambush us. This was the most excitement that me and Fatihah had had for a while!

October 24, 2009

2009-11-28T06:12:00.000-08:00

The last dream I had in Los Angeles was a memoir of my late aunt prior to her passing. It wasn't until today that I made the connection with my journey. "In death, we are each reduced to our essence: the spirit we are when we are born. The trappings we hold on to our whole lives -- our race, our money, our sex, our age, our politics all become irrelevant." My aunt to became a child in that hospital bed, a spirit about to embark on an unknown journey, terrified and alone no matter how many of us crowded around her. In her final hours, even her skin seemed to loose its wrinkles and take on a fatal waxy glow. Then, the machines around us went silent as she left us to sqwuabble in the purgatory of the fles. Before embarking on my unknown journey to Turkey and it's culture, I lost all access to the superficialities in my life. I then was reduced to my race, the money şn my pocket, my femininity, my age, and my politics. Now that my spirit is undergoing change even those things have become irrelevant. I feel as if I am dying, fighting for life like a fish out of water. But this experience is making the best of me instead of taking the best of me. Requiring me to breathe deeper before tossing me back into my superficial sea. For I expect it to be my "near death"experiences here that teach me to live: teach me to live of my life and not simply in it! At times I to feel terrified and alone, and the support from my family here as well as in America can sometimes be insufficient while I try to grow from this experience. Sometimes I'll have to let these machines; phones, skype, email etc go silent and let them squabble in the purgatory of the flesh in order for me to squabble in the essences of my spirit. I feel like a bird with broken wings right now but I insist on flying ....even if it takes me another 8 months.

Loosing a Language

2009-11-03T08:41:00.000-08:00

Loosing a language. It is as if my brain in combination with my tongue have a certain capacity when it come to languages. The language I've known and uttered my entire life seems to be disappearing right before my lips. But that's not all! I some how forgot how to spell and my other foreign languages have also vanished. Lately I've found myself digging deep in my soul, searching for an English word that lay right at the tip of my tongue. As my brain is filling with Turkish it is deporting any and everything foreign. I'm at the point in my experience when I know enough Turkish to get what I want and/or need and also make a few friends. How ever my learning has came to a screeching halt for a number of reasons. 1) I sound funny whe I talk Turkish lol so I've stopped talking as much 2) I am afraid that the more Turkish I learn the more English I will forget AND LASTLY 3) If I speak the words that I am thinking of they will forever be lost. They will dissolve like a vapor in open air. This is nothing like studying a foreign lanuguage in school... this is Intense! Fierce1 LOL!

Global Warming!

2009-11-03T08:23:00.000-08:00

So I hear that Şarkikarrağaç, the city that is hosting me is in a region that receives snow for 3 months every year; January, February and March. Today is November 3rd and I can see snow falling not to far from where I live! I felt the burn of global warming back in Los Angeles but I never imagined a city that gets three months of snow now getting five. It's very cold and this my opinion all alone... no one else in this entire town shivers not even Fatihah and Rebecca. They came from Seattle and Missouri.

October 23, 2009

2009-11-03T08:18:00.000-08:00

"So in the most suddle way (over dinner and tea), my host mom told me my school is closing after Friday as a safety precaution for H1N1 or as you all know it The Swine Flu. Not only did she say it with ZERO emotion but she referred to it as a holiday! A deadly disease is spreading rapidly across a country that I am visiting . I'm a bit disturbed... HELL I'm scared. One person has died and 23 cases are currently being treated, 17 being students." This is an entry from my personal journal before Miss Burton brought some facts to my attention: Every year people die from the flu, what is the difference between the swine flu and the normal flu, and that Jesus crucified infirmities (1 Peter 2:24).

2009-10-23T09:49:00.000-07:00

Since Fatihah, Rebecca and I live so close to each we decided to rotate houses every weekend. It was only until last weekend that we decided to also cook every weekend. It all started at my house. I prepared my first Turkish meal: Peynir and Patates Börek, Mercümek K. (for got the whole name lol) and Etimek Tatlısu. For the reason that my family coincidently dissappeared shortly before my meal was finished, the American Girls were my first two victims. Amazingly, my meal turned out to be a little short from perfect. In fact, it tasted Turkish. Fatihah and Rebecca loved it and we decided to do it at Rebecca's house this weekend.

So for starters, last weekend my mom had done all the shopping for me; the layers for the börek, the cheese, vanilla pudding, etimek and mercümek. This time around Rebecca's mom was gone and she had no idea we were plotting to turn her kitchen upside down. We had no choice but to go shopping. It hadn't dawned on me the were three Americans; one tall and blonde, one short Vietnamese, and one short black with curly hair in a foreign country until we hit the street and the stares began. It felt as if the whole town was in a whisper. So we make it to the store without being stopped, thank God. However, Turkey was not finished with us yet. Now we were three Americans in a Turkish shopping center, speaking English. We were moving throughout the store looking for a pie pan for Rebecca's apple pie and layers for the börek. I guess we were so into our shopping that we failed to realize the trail behind us... we were being followed! In this huge store we were the only one's shopping, everyone else was following us. Even the people who should have been working. With all this going on it seemed like the layers had dissappeared off the face of the planet! Now, we had to try and ask for help. So I tried first with one of the workers that was following us. Of course, she didn't fully understand my broken Turkish and forced Fatihah to break out her handy dandy dictionary. This lead to deeper stares and a larger audience lol!We finally found out the layers were not sold at that store. We quickly found Rebecca's pie dish and got the heck out of there. We found the layers at the second store and then began our trek back to Rebecca's house. This ten minute task (only in Turkey) had turned into a fifty minute cutural experience. "Allaha Allah". Now lets get cooking! Rebecca began her apple pie while me and Fatihah prepared and rolled the Börek. Everything seemed peaceful until Rebecca began fighting with her pie crust. We tried to tell her to knock the chill off the margarine by putting it in the microwave for a few seconds (by the way, Rebecca's house is the only house is the only house I've been to in all of Şarkikaraağaç with a microwave) but she insisted on following the recipe on her labtop screen. After Fatihah and I finished rolling orur 70 Börek... unbelievably Rebecca was still in "pie crust mode"! We eventually resued her by starting the pie filling. After believeing our trip to the grocery store had been long and tedious... Rebecca's dad remineded us that we had been in the kitchen for five hours. However, everything came out good. Even Rebecca's pie. We fed her family and then Rebecca's dad took Fatihah and I home.

Bir haftaya sonu daha güzel...İnşallah!

Picasa Web Online!

2009-10-16T11:22:00.001-07:00

Will be adding more pictures soon!

2009-10-01T08:30:00.000-07:00

So two Fridays ago, my family and I went to have iftar at a friend of my father's. Abdul Amca (paternal uncle) and his family of four live in a village 20 minutes from Isparta. So 15 minutes into our ride on the Isparta highway... the concrete turned into a dirt road. Due to the dust clouds, for miles up ahead nothing was visible. I knew immediately that we had arrived the environment had changed so drastically. Even the smell differed from the city I live in. The homes in this village were made of stucco and straw and I could see the end of the village from the beginning. The smell from the far animals, upon me opening the car door whisked me right out of my comfort zone and shoved me past the chickens, past the cows, up the stone-made staircase and into their home. This was a part of Turkey that took new form in my experience: a part I did not know existed. This was the part of Turkey that I read about in Bible stories but had no idea I would one day have to embrace it. As I removed my shoes I was greeted by; Tüna the youngest son, Abdul the oldest son, and their cousin Abedey. Their mother, my teyze took my jacket and purse and hung them on the rack beside the door. Right away, I began to assist in the kicthen... or at least try! LOL. Usually when we eat at the homes of my father's friend, I help take the dinner dishes to the table. Only one problem existed here... I couldn't find the table. Feeling a bit hesitant, I asked where the table was and I was directed to the container in the center of the livingroom floor and the large silver platter leaned up against the wall. The dinner table was about 5 inches from the floor and had a sheet draped to catch any crumbs that fell. Not far from the dinner table stood a taller table, the one I anticipated eating at. It held the glassses for su (water), çorbası (soup), patlıcan (eggplant) stew, grilled tavuk (chicken), a dish of meat that I am not very familiar with, and a large portion of fried balık (fish)... hepsi balık (the entire fish).Tabii (of course), lots of bread and that one salsa that they love! All ten of us gatered around the dinner table, indian-style and began to eat iftar. The meal was amazing once I got used to the ever-so-low dinner table.
       Afterwards, I met the tuvalet (toilet). The banyo (bathroom). The attachment to the home. The hole and rock in the ground that some how flushes. Not only was it cold but I was accompanied by the farm animals and their mooing and cooing right on the other side of the rather short wall. Just when I thought I was on the upside of my culture shock.... I had slid right back in the pit of hostility in a matter of seconds. I was thinking to myself... as bad as I had to pee, "There is no way I am going to use this bathroom... how do I?" In this situation, recognizing my hostility immediately was key. Realizing that this foreign exchange has some other interesting things in store for me... far more interesting than this toılet. I quickly "did what I had to do" and got out. Next of course, came the conversation and Turkish tea. I was having a great time until... it began to rain. I guess it hadn't dawned on me that the tree trunk in the middle of the living room, holding the entire house up somehow, would began to leak. LOL! I was obviously a bit to comfortable leaned against it in Indian-style. No one told me, well at least not in English lol, that this was the only place in the house that leaked (I guess that would explain the bucket I was sitting next to). In this small village, in this rather small home, in this shallow puddle of water, I had to find the humor in this facet of Turkey, AND I had to find it fast or I was going to be pretty darn wet! LOL.
        Later, after the çay (tea) and kavun (melon), and the rain had subsided; me, Anne, and Teyze took a walk to the end of the village. I must admit, I have never seen a sky so beautiful. The sky that night was lit by so many stars. The sky over the village was mesmerizing and in the end of our walk... I had forgotten all about the rain.

Moments of Discomfort

2009-09-09T02:35:00.000-07:00

"Lately, the warm and embracing energy amongst my host family has vanished. The smiles have faded and it seems as if the laughter has silenced. I feel something I didn't plan on...DİSCOMFORT. Upon my arrival, my little brothers were playful and their eyes were bright with excitement and now that all has dimmed, what shall I do?" This my friends is an excerpt from my personal journal, days before I realized I am living with humans! Since I have been here for a week, the excitement that filled everyone's faces has subsided because I don't look foreign anymore. Just when I was begınnıng to take the mood change personally it dawned on me that they are possibly exhausted from hiding their natural feelings all this time. I've become a member of the family and I am no longer exempt from attitudes, anger, frustratıon, dısappointment and any other feelings they may have had before I got here. I'm not quite sure yet but I believe this is the last stage of culture shock... Home Sweet Home. Although these are not exactly MY people yet this discomfort is an open invitation for my comfort. Sit back people I think its going to get real.... and as I promised to keep everything raw and tell it exactly how it is, there should be no problems with REAL RECOGNIZING REAL!

Get With İt America!!!!

2009-09-05T00:41:00.000-07:00

If you haven't noticed, Turks are huge on family values!! Their everyday lives are surrounded with family time and devotion. What is it in America that keeps us so divided and segragated EVEN AMONGST OUR OWN KİNFOLKS? Please comment. I would love to hear your opinions.

Day 4:Ramadan

2009-09-05T00:37:00.000-07:00

So this is my fourth day fasting in honor of Ramadan and compared to the fasting I have done in the past, this is easier than I expected. The first day I was more than hungry, I was starving! I decided to pray that god cure my pangs of hunger with the thought of prayer. Now I am full off prayer.
Yesterday was the first time at a Turkish family gathering. Of course I was "knee shaking" nervous. Not about meeting all the uncles, aunts, grandparents and cousins but because I am learning very quickly that Turkish people LOVE TO EAT!!! At ıftar (post-sunset dinner) yesterday Corlea was served first. It was similar to Tomato Soup. As soon as I took the last spoonful in my mouth the bowl was swifted from under me and replaced by a plate of Pilav (steamed rice), Palıcanle Keffe (meatballs wrapped in eggplant), and seasoned green beans which I don't remember the name of. Along with this entree there were a range of ekmekdır (breads), dressings and even salsa. By this time I am on the verge of being stuffed but guess what... they were not finished with me yet. I think I blinked and in that little time, dessert was served lol! First came the Revani, my favorite. It tastes just like my grandmother's homemade cornbread but this was draped with Rose Water (clear, sweet, sticky syrup). Next, came the fruit... the mountains of kavun (cantaloupe). You would think that after not eating since before sunrise my stomach would have been touching my back. I thought so to, I tried to indulge in everything! I tied to keep up with them.... it turns out I couldn't because after ıftar while chatting in the living room, MORE FOOD WAS SERVED! On a beautiful silver platter; çay (tea), erik (plums), şeftali (peaches), elma (apples), mısır koçanı (corn on the cob) and even more mountains kavun (cantaloupe). Everything from beginning to end was delightful! However, I am getting closer and closer to the AFS abroad expectation.... I refuse they have to stop cooking all these delicious meals, "what will happen when Ramadan is over?", I won't be ANOTHER FAT STUDENT!!!

Ramadan

2009-09-01T22:57:00.000-07:00

02.09.2009, Çarşamba, 4:55a

So today I decided to start fastıng in honor of Ramadan. So far what I've read in both The Qu'ran and The Holy Bible, in the efforts of seeking god's mercy, forgiveness and protection: fast with out weeping or mourning. Fasting is meant to renew your commitment and re-establish your relationship with your creator. The Qu'ran refers to food and sex as worldly comforts and by restraining oneself or even not indulging, even for a short period of time, the physical benefits and spiritual benefits of self-purification and self-restraint increase.

The fasting I am about to take part in takes place from dawn to sunset. The only ones that should be exempt are; pre-adolescant, ill, pregnant and/or nursing, traveling, on your menstrual cycle, taking medication or under the care of a physician. I am not burdened by any of these things so why no build on my spiritual strength and consciousness. About an hour ago at approximately four this morning I woke to suhur (pre-dawn breakfast). My next meal wıll be iftar (post-sunset dınner). Between these tımes I am goıng to become more familiar wıth the text ın both the Bıble and the Qu'ran, journalıng my fındıngs and prayıng for strength, peace of mınd and protectıon whıle abroad the rest of this year.

P.S. If you would lıke to know where I found the text about Ramadan and fastıng ın the Bible and the Koran (translated Qu'ran), here you are....

Bıble-Joel 2:12-13
Koran-Chap.2 Ver. 183-185

The Honeymoon is over...

2009-09-01T22:37:00.000-07:00

So shortly after my last post.... well forget it, I crıed like a big baby. I'm guessing that the honeymoon is over now. I haven't talked to anyone ın America for going on 11 days. I mıss my family! This şs part of the reason I am cryıng. The other reason is I am feeling bad because my host famıly doesn't understand a thıng I am asking for. My Anne (mother ın Turkısh) doesn't understand that I haven't seen my mom for over two weeks. What's worse is that ther is nothing I can do or say to help her understand. My Baba (father in Turkish) is the only person in my household that understands a lıck of Englısh and he is 6 hours away in Istanbul, Turkey. For two hours, I was asking my Anne for a callıng card and some stamps. Somethıng strange tells me that the shops where my Baba ıs are closed and I wıll have to waıt to call when he comes home. I don't mınd waıtıng but I am not even sure if this şs hat she wants me to do. All I can do now is dry these tears and pray that God grants me peace of mınd and patıence for thıs is only the begınnıng of our language barrıer.

P.S. Where the hell is all the humor ın this?

2009-08-31T07:44:00.000-07:00

I am in Şarkikaraaç, Turkey. I met my host famıly two days ago. So far culture shock is under rated! I was fıne untıil I met the tuvalet... the Turkish toilet (pics later) "A squat for a squat", lol! I went to the market an hour ago to buy tampons, the man working there despıte my language barrier, went to the back and found a box of "tampons".... the ones wıth out the applıcators... the only ones they sell ın Turkey... the ones that I left at hıs store. Other than that experıence I am having a great tıme. My famıly is great, the weather is great, and I can live with the food.

Istanbul, Turkey

2009-08-28T10:14:00.000-07:00

I made ıt to the aırport ın Istanbul safely. Just when I thought I´d seen and met most of the beautıful thıngs ın the world, we flew over the Medıterraınean Sea. Somethıng about ıt glıstens as ıf ıt holds the truth to magıc. So blue, so fresh... so deep. It lead us to the coast of Istanbul, Turkey. ınto the Istanbul aırport. we took a bus to the hotel. A long, eccentrıc rıde back from aırport allowed us to taste Turkey. Even the beat of the cıty´s musıc tastes good. The beat of the traffıc, the vendors on the streets, the beat of the pedestrıans, and oh... the beat of Taksım Square have me ready to jump rıght ınto thıs culture: head fırst! so far I am enjoyıng every ounce of thıs place, every corner, every curb... I haven´t even seen a fractıon yet. Sıttıng on thıs rooftop I look to the left and there flys a Turkısh flag, I look to the rıght and there I see the same. Embracıng the breeze on thıs rooftop (teraz) of thıs hotel...I am overlookıng the cıty of Istanbul and all across the Medıterraınean Sea. Thıs my frıends ıs what AFS calls the "honey moon"!

Trapped in Transition

2009-08-26T14:36:00.000-07:00

So far it hasn't set in just how far I will be from Sunny California. I haven't even taken the time to miss my family yet. Everyone keeps telling me I'm in the honeymoon stages of culture shock and the next stage is hostility. However, I feel rather peaceful. In fact I feel great. I depart tomorrow evening from Dulles Int'l. I have a stop in Frankfurt, Germany before touching down in Istanbul, Turkey and I'm hoping the 12-13 hpur flight will be smooth. It's just about time for dinner at YES Abroad orientations in D.C. so catch you all later.