The Music

My roomie's band, Native Project, a couple of weeks ago in a neighborhood bar. 

How Bazaar!

 i wandered the ancient aisles above the spice bazaar again yesterday. weathered men hauling copious amounts of everything from high-dollar headscarves, to birdfood, to beautifully hand-stitched textiles up and down the crooked streets where no cars go. little old hunched ladies nodding curtly to me as i pause to watch them help their young grand-daughters select which bright, satiny headscarf fabric best expresses them. after a couple of hours of wandering, i found my primary target: what i like to call 'costume row.' influenced by centuries of belly-dance (or, 'oriental dance,' as they call it here) costume design, the shops here are a veritable mecca of costuming accouterments.  sequins, fringe, beads, stones, ribbons, feathers, gold coins, hand-stitched trims of every flavor imaginable. my intention being to purchase a smattering of the selection to bring back to nola for my friends who have already started working on their mardi gras costumes. ran into two guys from miami who were in istanbul for the sole purpose of pricing and purchasing costume supplies for the big carnivale fest there each year. they've already picked out their group theme and have story-boarded their outfits. the sheer scale of retail in this city is truly staggering. its impossible not to be drawn in and hypnotized  by scents, colors,textures.... jewelry, bedspreads, shoes, scarves, clothesclothesandmoreclothes, intoxicating spices, teas, soaps, electronics, fresh glistening produce, rich fabrics.... and the food...mygod the food....i could walk mere steps in any direction and be confronted by carts selling slow-roasted chicken, beef and lamb, cig kofte (a bulgar 'meatball' wrapped in a tortilla), fresh squeezed orangegrapefruitcarrotpomengranateapple juices, stuffed mussels, borek, turkish delight, baklava, so many sweets and candies that i couldn't possibly learn the names of all of them,gozleme flatbread stuffed with potato spinach and cheese, kebab, bakery after bakery....this city loves its food. last week i ate lamb that was hung on hooks and slow-roasted over a pit, by a kurdish family who has supposedly been preparing lamb this way since the late 1800s. tender, juicy, rich, served with yoghurt over flatbread in the shadow of the ancient roman aquaduct. Ahhhh, life.....

Public Perspiration- I Mean, Public Transportation

For a city of 12-17 million people, Istanbul is surprisingly easy to navigate without a car. I'm infinitely grateful I don't have to drive in this place. The traffic snarls on the major roadways many hours a day, but its not for lack of providing other public options. Public transportation here is damn good. Diverse options. Several public train lines, tramlines, bus systems, ferry boats- all of which you can use with the same rechargeable transportation card. Super easy! There are also a couple of different privately-run bus options, the mini-bus & the Dolmuş, which are dirt cheap and take cash. I don’t really ever see anyone on bicycles, but people walk everywhere. There are taxis, and they always seem busy, but I can barely count on one hand how many times I’ve taken a taxi here since January.

One of the bus systems is called the Metrobus and it runs on one of the major highways between the airport and Kadikoy, across the Bosphorous Straight on the Asian side. I love the Metrobus because it has its own lanes in the middle of the highway so it doesn’t have to fight traffic. I took it a lot when I was living in Bahcelievler because the stop was right in the middle of the pedestrian bridge near my house. It was a relatively quick trip into to Taksim or over to visit Umit in Kadikoy. And super cheap- like 2 Lira. I don’t take it much anymore because my apartment is pretty far from the closest stop. Being that this city is so densely populated, inevitably you end up crammed with what feels like about a million other people on all of these busses, trains, trams, etc. And its only getting more crowded now that tourist season is here.

There are a few things that Turkish people are famous for (well, more than a few), that seem exacerbated by close quarters on public transit:   1) pushiness and a general lack of spatial awareness. I noticed this for my first time when I was in Greece last summer actually. There is just an entirely different concept of personal space over here, meaning, it really doesn’t exist. The only rule is that there are no rules. This goes for standing in line, walking on sidewalks, walking in overly crowded spaces… It is an accepted fact that you don’t really wait in line. Anywhere. You push your way to the front- along with everyone else. In most American cities I’ve been to, when walking in crowded places, there is a certain level of flow and spatial awareness. In Turkey? Not so much. One of my coworkers calls it Istanbull-dozing. Totally accurate. 2) STARING! Oh. My. God. The staring. Especially as a woman. Especially as a foreign woman. 3) Body odor. I don’t know why, but, at the risk of overgeneralizing, Turkish folks don’t utilize the benefits of deodorant. I noticed this with some of my students in the winter. Powerful stuff, I tell ya…. Of course, the weather is getting much warmer now, and much more humid. And the public transits much more crowded. So……you can probably do the math. Ripe. Potent. Palpable.

All of that being said, there is a TV advertisement for the Metrobus that I want to share with you. I’m only sharing the actual advertisement because I reallllllllly want to share the spoof of the ad with you, which shows how it actually feels on the bus. It features the three things I just mentioned. Enjoy!

The Original Ad (watch this one first, or the 2nd one won't be as funny):

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0RBPdi0K29U

The Spoof:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eHdzOMNR_Do

Well now, that's better!

I just said goodbye to my new ‘landlord’/sometimes flatmate, Volkan as he took a breather from practicing his clarinet. We were just admiring this fresh, gorgeous spring weather, looking out from our balcony across the Golden Horn to Suleyman Mosque, on what is one of the clearest days I’ve seen here in Istanbul. It stormed last night and there is a freshness and cleanliness in the air today~ I can tell that some of the thick smog has been pushed out. I put on my sunglasses and walk down the five flights of worn marble stairs, each floor home to a different music or art studio, and out onto the narrow, steep cobbled street. In less than 2 minutes, I’m passing one of my very favorite landmarks, the Galata Tower, heading down another narrow alley to the coffee shop where I’m sitting.

Galata Tower

The past few weeks have monumental.  

First, I moved out of the ‘armpit of Istanbul.’ Peace out, Bahcelievler. I found a big, super groovy apartment in Galata. The guy who owns it is my age, a Turkish man who plays a hybrid of traditional Turkish, gypsy, Balkan, jazz clarinet with a few outfits in town. The flat is huge: 2 big bedrooms, a big living room, and a soundproof music studio space with a drum kit, hand drums, guitars, among other things. Tall ceilings, old jazz vinyl hung on the walls, framed photographs of Miles and Dizzy, taken by my favorite music photographer, Herman Leonard (who lived for years in New Orleans), a west-facing balcony over- looking the iconic Golden Horn. It would be an understatement to say that I am pinching myself regularly. I am in heaven. Band members come over regularly to practice, so there is a steady stream of musicians passing through. They are all so sweet and kind. And they are GOOD. Last week I had a Macedonian accordion player kicking ass in my living room. Totally surreal Istanbul moment….. I saw their band last week. Insane! The rhythm section was unreal. He’s assembled a really solid group of musicians.

Second, I quit my job. I started working at another language school part time, and am working on building up my private lesson practice. My old school was so horribly mismanaged, they treated their teachers so horribly, the hours sucked, plus I was way out by the airport in a soulless neighborhood of stripmalls. Palpably painful.

So, I’ve pretty much carved out a whole new life for myself here, all put in motion exactly on the Spring Equinox, which I love because it symbolizes the return of the light after the dark of winter. I can’t even describe how much happier I am living here. Steps away from everything that I love about this city…. History, artists, historic buildings, museums, young people, countless restaurants, courtyards, narrow cobbled streets, dark alleys, transportation to anywhere…. I feel like here, I have finally found the Istanbul experience I’ve been craving, but that has been eluding me since my arrival. This is one of my absolute favorite parts of the city. The streets are lined with music shops. The tower never gets old to me. Now that the weather is nice, there are always people sitting in the square surrounding the tower drinking beer, wine, coffee, tea… Buskers, circus performers, food vendors….. It is never boring. Ever.  It feels so right. I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be. Finally. Spring is here. Life is good.

Just an average night of amateur circus performers at the foot of the Galata Tower

Click here for updated pics.

Tarlabaşɪ

As soon as the Dolmuş belched its way onto the tiny, steep lane, I knew it. I knew it by the colorful, historic homes reaching to the sky. I knew it by the narrowness of the streets. I knew it by the drying clothes strung high above the street between buildings. But mostly, I knew it by my gut. I felt it. This place was different. This was Tarlabaşɪ.

Recycler in Bahcelievler (photo by Oji)

Let me back up a bit. When I first moved to Bahcelievler, I noticed what appeared to be a relatively ‘organized’ effort of people diving in the dumpsters pulling out recyclables. What struck me was that they were all on foot, pulling large tyvek sacks, approximately 4x4x8, attached to a large dolly all hours of day/night. They are everywhere.  I wondered: Is this government sanctioned recycling? Is this one of the indications of Turkey’s still-developing status? The collectors are generally men, although I have been seeing more and more head-scarved women lately. None of them ever make eye-contact with me. Of course, my wheels start spinning with questions….  Where do they take it all? Who are they? What are they collecting? Where do they live? Are they part of one big group or do they work as individuals or families? Are there turf wars?

Then my favorite researcher came to town….. One of my favorite things about Oji is that he just can’t stand not knowing the answers. I pointed out these recyclers to him, and by the time I got home from work that night, he was beside himself with excitement. He had a full report ready for me. It started with, “We’ve got to go to Tarlabaşɪ.”

It turns out that they are a group of primarily Kurdish people who make their living pulling recycling. They make the most money from paper. They typically pull in about 30-40 TL per day, which is the equivalent of about 15-20 USD. They are not government sanctioned. In fact, the municipality views them as competition and often confiscates their carts and bags. Many of the recyclers are from the city of Van in Eastern Turkey. After the big earthquake there last October, recyclers pooled their earnings to send 12 lorries full of blankets, jackets, hygiene products, and food to the devastated areas (Click here for a link to an article about their efforts).

It was this research on the recyclers of Istanbul that led to Tarlabaşɪ. From what I can gather, this is where the majority of the recyclers live. It is an old neighborhood, with the first homes built as early as 1535 for the non-Muslim diplomats during the Ottoman Empire. It was largely destroyed by fire in 1870 and was rebuilt with stone to protect from fire danger, as was common practice during this time (this post-fire transition from wood to stone also happened in New Orleans around the same time). Tarlabaşɪ is located between the Golden Horn and the hip, modern, bustling, neighborhood of Taksim/Beyoglu.  At the turn of the 20^th century, this hood was inhabited by non-Muslim lower-middle class Armenian, Greek and Jewish craftsmen who sold their stuff to the diplomats over on Istiklal Street. The buildings are 4-story Levantine bow-fronted homes with the ground floor typically used as commercial or studio space. A series of anti-non-Muslim laws and events took place in the 20s, 40s and 50s, which caused large portions of the non-Muslim population to take off. As Istanbul developed out into the ‘Burbs instead of up, as is common in urban development, the Tarlabaşɪ hood was sort of left in a state of arrested decay.  In the 1990s, Kurdish refugees from the Turk-Kurd civil war came to Istanbul. Tarlabaşɪ was the only hood they could afford, or in some cases, squat in. Flash forward to present day and we have the homebase for the dumpster-diving recyclers.

Enter ‘urban renewal.’  The government has now decided that Tarlabaşɪ is prime real estate and they have begun a campaign to ‘renew’ the area. The Kurds have been pushed out of their homes, some bought out, some forced to leave. The old historic homes are slated to be demolished. Torn down. Destroyed. And ‘redeveloped’ to something shinier and prettier. I’ve noticed this practice here in Istanbul. Rather than restore existing historic structures, there is this push to tear down and rebuild ‘in the style of’ the former structure. "In the style of....." Kind of like Karaoke…. The melody is recognizable, but you can’t quite place the artist, and the person singing usually butchers it. There is little resemblance to the original. In an attempt to pay tribute, we actually destroy the very thing we are trying to honor. (Click here for a link to the project's Official Website)

This is when the two-years-dormant planner in me kicks in. In the US, we have distinct definitions and regulations dealing with the semantics of preservation, reconstruction, restoration, rehabilitation of historic sites. Historic preservation is guided by The Secretary of the Interior’s Standards and Guidelines for Historic Preservation.  There are a few different types of treatments allowed for protection (forgive me for going all planning-nerd on you):

Preservation is defined as the act or process of applying measures necessary to sustain the existing form, integrity, and materials of an historic property.

Reconstruction is defined as the act or process of depicting, by means of new construction, the form, features, and detailing of a non-surviving site, landscape, building, structure, or object for the purpose of replicating its appearance at a specific period of time and in its historic location.

Rehabilitation is defined as the act or process of making possible a compatible use for a property through repair, alterations, and additions while preserving those portions or features which convey its historical, cultural, or architectural values.

Restoration is defined as the act or process of accurately depicting the form, features, and character of a property as it appeared at a particular period of time by means of the removal of features from other periods in its history and reconstruction of missing features from the restoration period.

In California, anything more than 50 years old must be assessed for historic value by a qualified historian, archaeologist, architect, etc. Now, I’ll be the first to admit that the 50 year threshold is a bit cumbersome. Does this mean we have to start assessing tract homes from the 1950s for historic value and integrity? Gaudy 1960s suburban shopping malls? There is a grey area there, for sure. But, there are some periods and styles that are no-brainers. Such as old homes in the Tarlabaşɪ hood.

Istanbul has chosen to go the ‘reconstruction’ route in Tarlabaşɪ, which, from what I’ve seen, is one of few remaining architecturally in-tact neighborhoods. As I mentioned in previous posts, many historic structures have already been torn down all over the city and replaced with the homogenous apartment cubes. I’ve seen some examples of other reconstructions here and I haven’t been impressed. They look über modern and remind me of cheesy, shiny replicas of historic styles that I used to see in California. It makes my heart hurt to think of Istanbul going in this direction with their ‘conservation’ strategy. I think its something they will regret in the long run, once all the buildings with any character and soul are gone and forgotten. Meanwhile, the demolitions have begun in Tarlabaşɪ, slowly but surely. Some of the property owners have sued the government for attempting to force them out of the neighborhood, presumably using something similar to eminent domain. I hear that these court cases have slowed, maybe even halted, the demolitions for the time being.

So, where will my recyclers go now that their hood is on the fast track to gentrification?

Oji and I had a lengthy conversation with a suit-and-tie guy in a back-alley hole-in-the-wall (literally) nargile café (aka hookah) about this displacement. Clearly educated and middle-class if not upper-middle class. His response: the government finds a place for them. The government put them in Tarlabaşɪ and the government will find a place for them now that they want to redevelop the hood. He wasn’t concerned at all for their future because, in his mind, they were taken care of. He spoke of the Muslim tradition to take care of the less fortunate. Cultural values… “There is no homeless problem in Istanbul.” He was floored by the homeless problem in America when he visited Los Angeles. He didn’t understand how we could just let people live outside on the street. It should be our (ALL of us) duty to take care of them. Listening to him talk, it sounded like there is less judgment of the poor here than there is in the US.  He said this was something that was shifting now in the younger generation, as people begin to make more money in Turkey. Is this one of the byproducts of increasing westernization/globalization? As the gap between rich and poor increases, so does the level of judgment? “Well, if I can do it, everyone should be able to do it.” But is that really true? Is there really space in this world for everyone to be ‘rich?’ What if people just want to be relatively comfortable? Or what if they want to collect recycling for 40TL/day? Who are we to judge that? I’ve watched these people, they are working their asses off! I'm still in the process of trying to determine whether or not Istanbul actually has a homeless problem or not. its surprisingly difficult to find information on it. So, there either isn't a huge problem, or its ignored at such a level that it has been imagined away.

As I rubber-necked the beautiful Levantine bow-front houses in Tarlabaşɪ from the Dolmuş in the late afternoon amber light, I felt different. I felt like I was in an in-tact neighborhood in a way that I hadn’t experienced here in Istanbul yet. I wanted to jump out of the van and wander the streets in that moment because I was unsure if it would even be there the next time I came through. I am indebted to the recyclers and Tarlabaşɪ for providing an incredible lense through which to view so many of the current issues of an ever-expanding, ever-Westernizing metropolis.

For more information about Tarlabaşɪ, visit this blog: http://www.tarlabasiistanbul.com/

I am a bad blogger.....
I have many articles, stories, history lessons floating around in my head for you, some of which have made their way to paper, but haven't made their way to this blog.... I have been working, working, working... Have discovered some amazing places.... Spring is springing here, trees and flowers are blooming.... The city is coming alive. Everyone, myself included, is welcoming this change with open arms. I hope to write more soon. 


Things I've Learned:


* As punishment for their choosing the wrong side in the conflict, the Ottoman Empire was divided up by the Allies after the First World War. A certain general, Ataturk, rose up against this separation to create what is now modern-day Turkey. He is responsible for uniting the post-WWI fragments, making Turkey a Democracy, as well as secularizing it (which was no small feat, considering that most people and governments in the region followed Islamic Sharia Law. I still don't understand how he managed this). If Turkish citizens have a superhero, Ataturk is it. Sides of buildings are plastered with him, always dapperly dressed, sometimes on horseback, sometimes with rainbow light shining on him from heaven. He is revered in the most serious of ways by schoolchildren to university students to grown men and women. He fought hard to keep Turkey secular. So it is interesting to note that the current Turkish government is trending the opposite direction. 


* There is a group of gypsies who cart massive tyvek sacks on wheels around collecting recycling. Photos forthcoming.


* In Turkey, 'architectural preservation' = 'architectural redevelopment.' Rather than restore, they tear down the old historic buildings and rebuild them 'in the style of....'


* Homelessness: Problem Yok! (really???)


* Sufism vs. Islam


* My Turkish vocabulary is improving. I'm nowhere close to speaking in sentences, but I feel good about my vocab. 


* Potentially some major changes on the horizon as we enter the Spring season... I am working out the details, but hope to have some news to report soon.


I miss you all much! Know that I carry you all around with me. 

MURAT KEKİLLİ - EŞEK GÖZLÜM

As promised, the donkey eyes song.....

Still waiting on the official translation from my student, but he told me the gist is:

"The world's most beautiful eyes has donkey, so always I am say your eyes beautiful like that."

One of the few remaining old wooden homes in Bakirkoy.

The view from my classroom on one of the rare sunny days we've had.

Istanbulizzard 2012

I hear shrieks of laughter outside my bedroom window as I wake up.  I pull back the delicate, white, shimmering curtains to find not one, but two, families rolling balls of snow down their sidewalks toward the growing snowmen at the street. It has been snowing for a week. My students tell me this is the most snow Istanbul has seen in 15 years. I welcome this sort of novelty. It came at the perfect time. Something to push all Istanbulians outside their comfort zones- something I’d been experiencing for the two weeks prior. I feel like it leveled the playing field a bit. Who doesn’t love it when 90% of people are carrying snowballs while walking down the street- regardless of age? Snowball fights everywhere. People walk so slowly, trying desperately not to fall on the icy, snowy, slushy streets and sidewalks. I passed two men playing fetch with their dogs with snowballs today in a park around the corner from my house.

The past two weeks have found me feeling infinitely more grounded. I did move again. Into another one of Cherry Mama’s apartment buildings. I’m pretty sure that if there is a Bahcelievler mafia, Cherry Mama is its Godmother. It’s a bigger space, closer to the metro, on a quiet sidestreet a block removed from a busy street in Bahcelievler. It is definitely somewhere I can live for three months, which is how long English Time will pay my rent. After that, I trust that I will feel comfortable navigating the world of apartment rental. We’ve got two perfectly 70s orange sofas in the living room, a TV stuffed in the corner that hasn’t been turned on once, and beautiful, shimmering curtains in every room. It’s a quiet neighborhood, close to grocery stores, metrobus, restaurants, cafes….

I take language notes in my phone and practice them at every opportunity. I quiz my students about Turkish. They laugh at my pronunciation, but its obvious they love to correct me. I love it- its fun. I feel more confident to explore now. Fear has left me. Culture shock has worn off. I feel happy, content, no anxiety anymore. Settled. I am able to lean into the unknowns now with the curiosity that inspires me to travel. I am feeling my personality come out more, even through the language barrier. It is incredibly fascinating to see which personality traits surface in such a foreign environment. I am learning how much I truly love people- across cultures, oceans, religious beliefs, socio-economic status. I want to know about all of them. I want to understand. Demographics are fascinating to me…. What leads people to have the life that they do?

Bahcelievler vs. Bakirkoy

26 Jan 2012

On the eve of my second move (third, if you count my moving bedrooms in the Lojman), I was sitting in my living room on my orange couch, listening to the wind howl over the Stax-Volt Collection. Or maybe that’s the kids in the apartment upstairs. Or maybe its the singing pipes in the bathroom. It was freezing rain on my way home that night. I had accomplished my goal for the day. I bought a Turkish cell phone. I discovered a new area of Bahcelievler in the process- what is most likely B.Evler proper, actually. I liked it. Mellow, but modern. Lots of restaurants, specialty shops, bakeries, cheese shops, cafes… It isn’t nearly as busy as Bakirkoy, where school is. I found a little restaurant where I ate lamb kabob (kuzu shish). I popped into a cell phone shop and sat with the owner, Adem and his customer, Aytac for about an hour, drinking coffee and communicating through Aytac’s limited English and Google Translate. Adem spoke no English and Aytac spoke a little. The both want English lessons and Adem has a pilot friend who also wants lessons. I told them about my time in Taksim and told them that I needed some time to get settled, but that I may consider giving lessons later. I got a used Nokia phone and a pay-as-you-go SIM card. I paid about 150TL, which is about $75 US.

I am starting to look and feel more like myself again. I’ve been walking to and from Bakirkoy for work, which takes about 30-40 minutes. Bahcelievler is separated from Bakirkoy by a massive highway. Four lanes in each direction plus two center lanes dedicated to the public buses so they don’t have to deal with traffic. There is a pedestrian bridge over the highway with the Metrobus stops in the middle. It’s a huge interchange that is always clogged with people. I walk across this bridge every day. There are usually vendors on the bridge selling cheap watches, hot water bottles, glowing animal trinkets, books, Kleenex packets, movies, necklaces…… On the Bakirkoy side, I can catch a minibus right to my school for 1.40TL that takes about 5 minutes. Lately though, I’ve been walking.

Its between 20-25 minutes to school from the skybridge. I stay off the busy main street, Incirli, for as long as I can, sticking to the side streets. Passing the ubiquitous 6-10 story cement apartment cubes, which typically have commercial space in the bottom in the form of markets, cafes, flower shops, or of course, clothing stores. This architectural style is nothing to write home about for this girl who gets off on gawking at groovy architecture. I find it a bit boring. The more unique examples are entirely covered in tiny shimmering tiles approximately 1”x1”, mosaic-style. Most of these tiled buildings are a single color, but a few are multicolored and they truly are beautiful. The tiles have an iridescent coating and when they catch the light, the whole building glimmers. Another defining characteristic is vertical mosaics running up the narrow band of cement separating rows of windows. I can’t quite place the style- some of them look Art Deco, some Southwestern American, some Aztec, and some just pure ‘70s. If I were in the States, I would definitely put these buildings squarely in the 1970s style, but I’m unsure if our architectural time periods match up…. I’m guessing not.  Supposedly all the historic homes here were quite cute and unique, with big gardens. Bahcelieveler actually means ‘houses with gardens.’ In a period of rapid development in the ‘80s & ‘90s, most of the namesake historic garden homes were torn down and replaced by the apartment cubes. I’m sad they didn’t make it. In Bakirkoy I’ve spotted a couple of older homes with wooden siding and balconies, and delicate latticework, and I’ve read that there are some surviving older homes in ‘central’ Bahcelievler. Hunting those down is on my list.

Bahcelievler seems to be a bedroom community- apartment block after apartment block, grocery stores, furniture stores, mini-markets, hair salons, a couple of mosques, a few street vendors selling roasted chestnuts, round Simit bread (the equivalent of the bagel), fresh nuts and fruit, flowers. There are nearly always people on the move here in Bahc, but not nearly as many as Bakirkoy. The main street in Bakirkoy, Incirli, is loud, crowded, and congested. Tons of buses, people…. It has the feel of one long strip mall with everything you could possibly need: hookah bars, eye glass shops, cell phone stores, rug shops, pharmacies, electronics, flooring, shoe stores, food, food and more food, formal wear, formal wear, and more formal wear. And this is before you even hit the main square: Meydan Square, which is a pedestrian shopping corridor. And this is before you even get to the two actual shopping malls on the other side of the Meydan. I just discovered that on top of all these shopping options, there is also an underground OUTLET mall that runs the entire length of the pedestrian mall. Damn! Istanbulians love to shop. I suppose America isn’t much different. The Meydan is a shitshow- a massive TV screen is always flashing, people walking in every direction. Once the weather gets a little warmer, I am going to plant myself in the Square and just watch.

Working in Bakirkoy makes me glad I live in Bahcelievler. Its quieter and quainter. I have heard that its more conservative than Bakirkoy, so not much nightlife, other than cafes and hookah bars. No ‘alcohol’ bars that I’ve found yet. All-in-all, I’m happy with where I’ve landed. I haven’t done much sightseeing yet, just been enjoying nesting and getting to know my new hood. I’m expanding my radius very slowly. The freedom to do this slowly is one of the benefits of actually LIVING somewhere, rather than just traveling there. I know I have time to get out and see everything. I don’t have to feel rushed. There isn’t the feeling that I have to DO IT ALL NOW or I’ll miss it. I can ease into it. It’s a nice feeling…….

Bakirkoy Promenade

Bethy's Turkey Blog

Click here for: Pictures!

"The Gracehoper was always jigging ajog, hoppy on akkant of his joyicity"

“There’s something wonderful about drinking in the afternoon.  A not-so-cold pint, absolutely alone at the bar-even in this fake-ass Irish pub.  It’s new, built to look old.  Erin Go Braugh bullshit with it’s four flat screens silently flashing sports crawls for games I don’t care about.  The generic Irish bric-a-brac they deliver by the truck-load.  Empty moving vans roaming the Irish countryside right now, I imagine, waiting for old Missus Meagher to drop dead into her black pudding so they can buy up the contents of her curio shelves.  All of it shipped straight off to a central clearing house, where it is divvied up between Instant Irish Pubs in New York, Milwaukee, Singapore, Verona.

         

I’ve been at this bar before, of course. We all have. Yet I’m strangely, indefensively happy here. Even the stink of Lysol from the too-clean floor, the fruit flies hovering over the garnish tray do not distract me from a general feeling of well-being.

Bushmills or Jameson, Celtics or Rangers, don’t mean a thing here. This is a nondenominational Irish bar. No difference no raised eyebrows. Few Irish, now that I think about it. And the Guinness, of course blows.

         The owner’s got ten or twelve of these bars and they all look the same and they all have names like Paddy McGee’s or Seamus O’Doul’s or Molly whatever-none of whom exist or ever existed.

Among the pool table, the juke box, the inevitable dartboard, the moose head, toy trains, Yankee banners, the photos of Irish authors who never came here and whom nobody here ever read. You want to talk Joyce or Behan? A Yeats’s bust may sit dust-covered on a shelf, but start spouting lines from The Second Coming and you can just fuck off down the street, ya prat.”

-excerpt from “I Drink Alone” Medium Raw: A Bloody Valentine to the World of Food & the People Who Cook by Anthony Bourdain

         

My first week in Istanbul, I found myself at one of these ‘fake-ass’ Irish pubs in Taksim, down an old, crooked alley. It was named the James Joyce and, it being my first week in Turkey, I understand Turkish about as well as most of the world’s population understands Joyce’s Finnegan’s Wake. (If you’ve never taken a look inside Finnegan’s Wake, the next time you’re in a book store, if you are one of the precious few who still visit bookstores, open it up and give it a whirl.)

I was with my co-worker, Alex, recently arrived from Orange County. Alex is 25 and he is a fellow fan of Jameson Irish Whiskey. We were on our way home from an outing to Asia (oh, did I forget to tell you that I went to Asia?), and we decided to pop into the James Joyce to satisfy our craving for one of our favorite adult beverages. We walk into the “pub” to witness 2 Turkish men playing acoustic versions of Radiohead, REM, and Willie Nelson songs. We take a table in the back and each get a Guinness and a Jameson. We sit there for a couple of hours getting to know each other. We talk music, California, travel…. Mostly music….

The table next to us turns over a couple of times as we sit there, each party speaking English. Men in business suits, primarily. I admit that I had a modicum of guilt sitting there in this “pub.” This is usually the kind of place I only visit after I’ve been somewhere foreign long enough to feel that I’ve ‘earned’ something kitschy. By my standards, I haven’t been in Istanbul long enough to be in a place like this. It made me feel even more like a tourist than I already did. That said, Alex wanted to come here, and I did find it valuable to bond with him over Radiohead covers and lukewarm Guinness.

After two Guinness each, we decide its time to go home. We get our bill (hesap, in Turkish). Our bill is 170 Lira. Do the math on this: we had 6 drinks between the two of us. This puts each drink at roughly 30TL each, or $15. A $15 Guinness? We call over our server and he shows us that, indeed, our beers were 30TL apiece and our Jamesons were 25TL. Damn.

I guess when you’re importing Missus Meagher’s curios directly from Ireland, costs really add up.

Moral of the story: Always look at a menu before you order.

Life lesson: Stay away from ‘fake-ass Irish pubs.’

Duly Noted.

Legendary Donkeys

My students make me laugh every day.... They are funny, motivated, challenging, intellectual, and some of them are quite charming. Last week I was teaching my Level 2 (Elementary) students about comparative and superlative adjectives, (big, bigger, biggest). Their assignment was to write five sentences about their family using this sort of descriptive language. "My father is the funniest." "My mother is the smartest." "I am shorter than my brother." Things like this.... I am walking around to their desks checking on their progress and learning about their families, when I come to one of my male students' desk. He is young, probably in his very early 20s, if not late teens, attractive, and I can see the laughter in his eyes as I walk over. He has written only one sentence:

I am the Legendest.

We both burst out laughing. 

I move on to another male students' desk. He is laughing too as I approach. He looks at me earnestly and says, "Teacher? Is this true?" and shows me his sentence:

The Word's most beautiful eyes have donkey.

I stare at it for a few seconds. I look at him. I look back at the sentence. I look back at him. I say, "Are you saying that donkeys have the world's most beautiful eyes?" His face lights up and he says, "Yes! Yes! Its true! We say this in Turkey! There are many songs about it!" I look to the other students to get confirmation. Apparently, this is a Thing here. It is a well-known and accepted fact here in Turkey that the donkey has the most beautiful eyes in the entire world. Within minutes someone had pulled up a google image search of donkey eyes. And you know what? They are surprisingly beautiful and delicate. Who knew? I confirmed this long-held belief again with one of the Turkish teachers at my school. My next mission is to find these songs about donkey eyes. Trust that I will report back on that.

This City Will Eat You

That’s what the short, wild-eyed American man said who had stopped me on the crowded, dirty steps at the metro stop above the clogged highway. I was walking home from work with my coworker- a quiet, 22-year-old British bloke- when this man chases us up the steps calling, “Do you speak English?” with such a sense of desperation that we both turned around. His relief was palpable when he realized he’d guessed correctly. He was waving 20 Turkish Lira and holding a cell phone. He had just arrived back in Istanbul, he explained, and was desperate to contact the woman at whose home he was supposed to stay that night. He only had an American cell phone, didn’t speak any Turkish, and didn’t have any idea where he was.  Speaking a mile-a-minute, he explains that he has lived in Istanbul as an English teacher on and off for the past 8 years, and is recently back to begin a new position. The look on his face when he discovered both Jon and I were new to the city was one of sympathy, understanding, and humor. “How are you finding it?” he asked, his eyes twinkling devilishly. “Hardest transition of my life,” I replied. It was then that he looked me straight in the eye and said, “This city will eat you.”

That statement accurately summarizes the emotions I’ve been feeling over the course of the past couple of weeks. Scared. Helpless. Exhausted. Anxious. Isolated. Angry. Desperate. Lost. Overwhelmed. Dirty. Confused. Unsettled.

I consider myself to be a resilient person. For those of you who know me well, you know I lived on top of a mountain, basically in the wilderness, in extremely rustic conditions, for over 6 years. I have shoveled my own shit out of my outdoor composting toilet. I have showered outside year-round. I have chopped my own wood to heat my home. I have shoveled gravel for hours in the pouring rain to get my car up my driveway. I have rescued my cat from fights with rattlesnakes. For 6 years.

But this? This is resiliency of an entirely different breed.

I had decided to begin my stay in Istanbul by staying at the Lojman, essentially a dormitory provided by my new employers for their incoming English teachers. It was affordable, centrally located, and provided, in theory, a safe, easy, place to land, get my bearings and decide what I wanted to do. I was open to living in the Lojman my entire 6 months here, but I was also open to looking for my own place either alone or with other teachers. I was just grateful to have a spot to stay that the school had endorsed. I expected this transition to be a hard one. A completely foreign culture, the biggest city I’ve ever been to, and certainly the biggest city I’ve ever lived in, major (almost complete) language barrier, distancing myself geographically from my loved ones, insomnia/jetlag, starting a new job, transitioning back into working (let’s be honest, I haven’t really worked in over a year). All of these things are, in my mind, pretty major. To NOT have to worry about the accommodation piece right away was a big relief. One less variable in my lengthy LIFE equation.

It was a nice idea….. One that unfortunately backfired. Beginning on that first Monday, I kept hearing rumors that we were moving sometime that week, but no one seemed to know anything for sure. The chain of command at the school was unclear, so I wasn’t even exactly sure who I should be asking. English Time is comprised of numerous branches scattered throughout Istanbul, each with a head teacher. There is a main branch somewhere in the city- still unclear as to where that is. I learned upon my arrival that the American woman who hired me, the Director of Education, had taken a sudden leave of absence and it was unclear whether she was coming back at all. My head teacher was getting no response from the head office to his inquiries about our hot water, heat, or potential move date. He was visibly frustrated and very apologetic. Despite his helplessness, I was grateful for his tenacity and apparent empathy. My one remaining roommate, Elise, said her head teacher basically told her to suck it up and get over it because she was just lucky to have a roof over her head.

Somehow I stumbled through my first three days of teaching. I can only imagine what my students thought of me….. I must have looked like a zombie. No sleep, no shower, minimal planning for my lessons. Incredibly, my first few days teaching didn’t go horribly. I was encouraged that I could walk in, pretty much worse case scenario, and not completely fall on my face. It can only go up from here, right?

Elise and I did finally move on Friday the 20^th into an apartment in the town of Bahcelievler, which is the next town over from Bakrikoy, where my school is. It was a comedy act moving in. There were at least 6 English Time staff there, and I think three people who own the apartment building. The mattresses were brand new, still wrapped in plastic, and they asked us to not take the plastic off? They had brand new sheets, duvets, and pillows for us, which they all helped us put together. The third bedroom made me laugh out loud. It has a lofted children’s bed with an old soccer net hanging from the ceiling, ostensibly to keep a small child from rolling out? Safety first here in Turkey! Over the course of an hour, every single person in the apartment attempted to stuff a twin sized mattress up there. Every one of us failed. What size mattress is smaller than a twin? I spent some time trying to imagine the look on a potential third roommate’s face when she sees her new bedroom situation.

During this somewhat chaotic moving scene, where only one woman spoke passing English, I read and signed my 6-month school contract. Was I apprehensive? Hell yes! She explained English Time’s new Apartment Policy, replacing the old Lojman Policy. In this new policy, English time pays our full rent for the first three months, then after three months we pay 400TL if we want to stay in this apartment. Three months free? Awesome! The fine print? English Time relinquishes all responsibility for repairs or other problems. If something goes wrong, we deal directly with the landlords and are not allowed to contact English Time about it. Do the landlords speak any English? Nope. Awesome. After a few minimal instructions in Turkish, and a random, almost off-handed promise from the school staff that we would move again on the following Wednesday into another apartment closer to the metro stop, they all left.

Long story short…. We’ve been in this place about a week now. Our hot water has been in and out on a daily basis. We’ve been told every day that the internet is being installed ‘tomorrow.’ There was a bunch of garbage left in the apartment when we moved in from the previous tenants.

The good news? We have had heat consistently. Our landlords own a beautiful, lively café on the walk between my home and my school. Elise and I have been treated like princesses whenever we stop in to ask about the hot water (which has been daily). Yildez, our landlady with curly cherry colored hair actually held my hand and pet my arm one night while we attempted to work through our language barrier. We have dubbed her Cherry Mama, seeing as how she has called us her American daughters. That combined with the hand-holding and petting…. They have been very responsive in fixing our hot water heater each time we ask about it. Elise had the brilliant idea one night to pull up Google Translator on her laptop and this is now our standard means of communicating with Cherry Mama. Last night I sat with her for an hour, our table surrounded by 6-7 Turkish people all laughing at us, trying to chime in with their limited English to work us through our communication barrier. She was finally able to tell me what’s wrong with our hot water heater (or Combie, in Turkish). After each use, I need to press a certain button twice to reset it. So simple! Thanks Google! I was also able to determine that we are moving to a new apartment on Friday (tomorrow).  This was just confirmed by my school about an hour ago. I kind of feel like I’m in a game of Let’s Make a Deal. I know what’s behind Door Number 1: its where I’m living now. Consistent heat. Inconsistent hot water. Minimal furniture. No internet. Plastic bedcovers. 35 minute walk to work. Door Number 2: well, that’s an unknown. I may end up with a live llama. Or a monkey. We just don’t know.

And this manner of risk is the theme that weaves itself through my experience here in Istanbul. I am navigating a crashing sea of complete and utter unknowns. I would be lying if I said I didn’t think about bagging the whole thing and running back to America. But then I would have to live the rest of my life saying that I let Istanbul eat me. I would rather end up with a llama.

Thanks Unisom!

Yesterday was my fırst day teachıng and İ didn't sleep at all the nıght before.

Naturally, İ really struggled all day. But, İ made ıt through it. There were highs and lows. The good news: connecting more w my fellow teachers; had some good teaching moments; nothing went terribly, even though I was completely unprepared for any of my lessons. I guess if it can go okay when Im totally unprepared and on zero sleep, how can i complain, right?  I heard from my head teacher yesterday that someone is supposed to come look at and fix the hot water heater today and we are supposed to be out of the building by this Friday. Fingers crossed....

I worked 14 hours yesterday. My students are funny, smart, challengıng, and fashıonable. Both of my classes have about 19 people ın them. My evenıng students were upset that the sıze was so large. Several of them mentıoned tryıng to swıtch to another branch. Durıng the week, I have a mornıng class on Monday and Tuesday from 10am-2pm, wıth all the same students. Four 45-mınute long sessıons. Then, I have a break from 2-7pm. On Monday, Tuesday and Wednesdays, I have evenıng classes from 7-10pm wıth a new group of students. Three 45-mınute long sessıons. On Saturday and Sunday, I have class from 9am-1pm; then agaın from 3-7pm. My days off are Thursday and Frıday.

My school ıs ın Bakırköy, a neıghborhood near Istanbul's aırport. It ıs about a 20-25 mınute busrıde from the lojman (dormıtory) where I lıve. Our route takes me over a long brıdge over a small ınlet of the Sea of Marmar wıth a stunnıng vıew of the Sultanahmet and the Blue Mosque. I counted 7 mosques at one poınt from that vıew. We drıve under an ancıent stone aquaduct and between what seem to be a gate ın an ancıent stone cıty wall.

 The fırst thıng I dıd yesterday mornıng when I got to Bakırköy was to go straıght to a pharmacy and buy some Unısom... I popped two of those babıes rıght when I got  home and slept lıke a baby last night. This morning's class went well. Now I have five hours to plan for tonight's class. I have tomorrow morning off, and teach tomorrow night. Then I have two days off. Already looking forward to that. A coworker told me about an ex-pat happy hour group that meets for drinks Thursdays in different parts of the city. I am going to go this week- its on the Asian side, so it will be my first time over there.  Dıd you know that Istanbul ıs sıtuated on 2 contınents: Part ıs on Europe, part on Asıa- separated by the Bosphorus Straıt. The Bosphorus connects The Black Sea wıth the Sea of Marmar, whıch ıs an ınlet of the Medıterranean Sea. There was a dazzlıng dusting of snow today when I woke. It really quieted the city. Before I even looked out my window and saw that it had snowed I thought, I have never heard Istanbul so quiet! Nearly sılent.....

Oh, Jetlag! Why Must You Torture Me So?

Friends,
I wish I could report that my transition INTO Turkey was as smooth, painless, and anxiety-free as my transition to get here.... In the words of Alex Robinson: FALSE.

Jetlag has made me her bitch. I have yet to fall asleep prior to 6am and am really struggling with the most severe insomnia of my life. I have tried all the tricks in my book.... Deep, meditative breathing; reading; relaxing music; eye mask and ear plugs; counting sheep, goats, guinea pigs, and weiner dogs; benedryl..... Sweet slumber continues to elude me. I don't know if you've ever experienced insomnia, but its quite an enigma to me. Countless times, I get myself to the point where I am about to let go- I even start to dream little dreams.... Then, BAM- I come up against something that jolts me awake (sometimes its yellow, is that weird?), and I'm back to square one. Is it just jetlag? Am I having that hard of a time letting go of the Central Time Zone? Am I really this anxious to begin my teaching job tomorrow? I had two big travel days, but I figured I'd be back on track after another couple of days. I thought last night, Saturday night, would be my night..... Awake until 6:30am. Again. Normally I wouldn't care, but I have to start teaching on Monday/tomorrow morning.

In other news, the apartment I'm living in is falling apart around my ears... Most of the other apartments in the building haven't had hot water or heat for at least a week now, but ours was a hold-out. Last night our hot water heater exploded and flooded our kitchen. Yay! I was able to shut off the valves, which stopped the leaking, and we still have water- just not hot water- and we have radiator heating, so now no heat. The school has apparently been arguing with the folks who own the building due to their lack of attentiveness to this place, and I was told when I got here that I would be moving into a new apartment within 7-10 days. Realllllllly looking forward to that....

My roommates are cool, but most of them have moved out now, since the school told them they had to find other accommodations by today. There is one woman, from Iowa, who is staying here with me, so at least I won't be all by myself.

I realize that large transitions like this one are bound to have moments like this... I realize that I really shouldn't complain- I mean, look where I am! I am so blessed and lucky to have this experience. That said, I AM struggling right now and am looking forward to working out all these kinks and settling into a rhythm here in my new ancient city.

I observed at my teaching branch yesterday. I will have a four hour block in the morning with all the same students and a four hour block in the evenings with a different group of students. I lucked out and both are Level 2, which cuts down my lesson planning. I'll probably get a weekend class too, but haven't heard any details of that yet. My days off are Thursday and Friday.

It snowed yesterday! Big,slow flakes... It didn't stick, but it was beautiful!

I am right in the heart of nightlife here in Istanbul and I could hear a hilarious cover band out my window last night until 4am that played covers of Bon Jovi, The Police, Adele, and Eric Clapton. It reminded me of places on Bourbon Street like the Cats Meow, Krazy Korner, and Tropical Isle. I was laughing out loud about that one. Did I move to the French Quarter of Istanbul?

Alright, back to lesson planning.... Love you all. Drop me a note anytime- I could use the contact right now! Love Love Love,
Bethy

Loving Wandering Aimlessly...

I discovered I am in the Beyoğlu neighborhood, which features lots of 19th century European architecture. Sandwiched between the Taksim and Galata areas, this is supposedly "the most active art, entertainment and nightlife center of Istanbul." Uh-oh...
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Beyo%C4%9Flu

I had a great 1st day- slept till 1230, then went wandering with my roommate all day long. Walked to several different neighborhoods, including Galata, which is named for theGalata Tower, built in 1348. Beautiful! I didn't go up inside it yet, but I imagine the view is pretty impressive. Ate some good food, including a chicken Durum, drank lots of chai... It was sunny and 50 degrees, but got really cold and windy in the late afternoon. Love the area I'm in... people everywhere, inviting intimate restaurants. Its an interesting mix of shopping, bars, and food. I even found a couple of jazz clubs... I report to school to observe tomorrow morning at 1030. Its about 20 minutes away by bus in the Beyoğlu  neighborhood. I will observe tomorrow and Sunday, and get my own classes starting on Monday. Excited to go to a new 'hood and, as my dear friend, Kevi Sirgo says, Neighboorhood Shop. One of my fave pasttimes.

The people are very stylish here- I'm going to have fun shopping (wait, did I just say that?). Lots of scarves, long jackets, leggings, and tall boots. I can get used to this sort of fashion.... 

Still trying to get back on my sleep schedule after two days of travel, so I'm heading to bed now. I apologize for the vagueness and brevity of these first couple of posts- I just wanted to get the ball rolling sooner rather than later, before I turn around and a month has gone by. 

Miss you all and wish you could all be with me experiencing this!

Serefe!

Merhaba!

Made it to Istanbul with absolutely no problems! Couldn't have been smoother. I came straight to the teacher dormatory, where no one was home. I'm on the 4th floor, up a tiny, narrow winding staircase. Its modest, but clean. I am completely unpacked and organized already. I took off to grab some dinner and find an internet cafe. I rounded a corner and was greeted by a bustling pedestrian thoroughfare with hundreds and hundreds of people of all ages, genders, nationalities wandering around. I found a yummy cafe to eat in- I had a chai and Turkish dumplings with minced meat, yoghurt, chili oil, and sage. They brought an entire spice rack to my table for me. After dinner I wandered and am already in LOVE with it. Sooooo old..... Incredible stonework, ironwork, mosaics, cobblestones. Street musicians everywhere... I've already passed at least 4 buildings that I'm pretty sure are old palaces. I've bought a bottle of red turkish wine and am going home to have a glass and read. I figure my roommate(s) are teaching tonight and won't be home till after 10pm. It is 8:15 right now. I don't have the internet code for my building yet, so can't log on there. I talked to my head teacher today on my way from the airport. I have to report on Saturday for two days of observation, then I start my own classes on Monday. Still not sure what area of the city i'm in.  Can't wait to explore more tomorrow....