Free Association

I don't have a purpose for this post aside from my need add a post. So I've decided to just free associate and see what we end up with...

I returned at 11:11 this morning with a confidence I'm not sure I had before. Confidence about the language, confidence about the culture, confidence about my own independence, and most importantly--confidence in my decision to move here.

Something I have gotten a lot of since I moved here from the natives is the question "Why?" Why Turkey? Everyone seems astounded by my impulsive decision to move here--and the fact that I did it not having one Turkish friend in the world. That is something that before I came never struck me as an issue. When needing a change in life, you pack a bag, get on an airplane, and go. I have never thought of myself as a spontaneous person before....but in comparison to the Turks, I suppose I am. There is a purpose to everything they do and a specific series of steps they take in which to do them. Though this logic often alludes my grasp leading me to commit confusing though harmless faux pas, to the Turks it all makes perfect sense. Generally, I don't like to speak in vague generalities like this--I prefer concrete examples to demonstrate my point. But as these ideas are just beginnning to form in my mind--I haven't yet defined which experiences exactly have influenced my thinking.



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(Right: Umit, Me, and Patatas french fries. Istiklal cad. Feb.12)

Yesterday was my second day off---how I live for Friday! I sometimes think that my body and mind have begun to run on an internal Cuma (Friday) clock. At all times I can tell you how long its been since I returned home Saturday morning and how long it is until I can leave again next Friday. I am only truely alive when I am outside this house. People how I love thee.
     I am not sure what exactly it is, but everywhere I go out in Istanbul I am an instant crowd favorite. Whether I am dancing, bumbling Turkish words, or ogling feathered headbands in a shop window I am endearing myself in the heart of some Turk. Never have I known such popularity. I think a part of it is my enthusiasm to learn the language and more then culture--to learn the Turkish people's story. The support and praise from my brand new friends as I strive to add to my expanding Turkish vocabulary is a constant reinforcement. I work hard at pronunciation and accent and from the delighted surprise  or every cab driver's and waiter's face, apparently I am doing well.

"Seni Seviyorum"

     I was told "I love you" today by a Turkish woman of indeterminate age. I was also invited to sit in the kitchen over a leisurely cup of tea with said woman and the other maid, both of whom I have been invited to call my "Abla", or big sister; a title which I am coming to learn holds a great amount of affection and deference to the Turkish people. Abla is perhaps my favorite word in the Turkish language...right after guzel (beautiful) and yemek (food/eat) that is.
     Another thing I like and need to practice is the "Turkish Blink" An exaggerated blink of the eye is the Turk's version of the head nod. I means 'yes' but it also seems to mean much more then that. 'I knowledge you'...it's like a double wink, or an extra long hug.

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     Standing in the living oda of Yasemin's Babaanne (Paternal Grandmother) two days ago, I was struck dumb with wonder. Laid out before me was the most magnificent view of my life, the Fatih Sultan Mehmet Bridge across a milky turquoise Bosporus in the Foreground with the dogpiled buildings of Istanbul spilling all around it. There was even a cami (meaning Mosque, pronounced jah-mee) or two sprinkled in the mix, all cuddled under the most gently grey overcast sky I have ever seen.
     Yet my eyes were drawn time and again to the equally shocking display of opulence behind me. Shifting my perch on the canary brocade sofa I am met with a clash of gold, brass and real silver. LOTS of real silver. The nutty, chewy taste of my first Turkish Delight still making the acquaintance of my tongue, I fight the urge to be a gawky American and reach for the camera that should be hanging around my neck somewhere between my visor and my fanny pack. And here I thought our house further up the Bosporus was nice. This one has an elevator and a gatehouse complete with security attendant.
     One short elevator ride later I was ushered into the home of yet another Keceli family. There I watched 2 little girls ooh and ahh over a newborn baby, 2 little boys run wild, banging on toy pianos, and realized that for all the glam and all the psycho traffic, there are somethings that transcend language and timezone.
     I also made my second American contact, the Au Pair of the little terrors afore mentioned. I suspect she was even more relieved by the short moments of American conversation than I was.