Celebrations.

First and foremost, I want to thank everyone for the wonderful birthday wishes. I very much appreciated them. Many of you inquire as to whether my family here celebrated my birthday, and if so, how they did. I wasn’t expecting them to do anything, as I didn’t’ think that they knew it was my birthday. Well they did. Not a word was mentioned about my birthday all day. After dinner I was reading with their son Goki when they asked me to help make dessert in the kitchen. When I walked into the kitchen I was bombarded with their (and now my) friends, family, and neighbors. They threw me a surprise party. It was wonderful. They tried to make it very American, so they made me a cake with candles and sung me happy birthday in English. Though I would have loved to hear the song in Turkish, I was overjoyed that they all put in the effort to learn the song in English. The rest of the evening was spent with tea, cake, and conversation. A delightful evening. They also gave me a wonderful birthday present—I am allowed make a list of the cultural attractions that I would like to visit, and I will be able to visit one a week. This is fabulous for me, as I spend the majority of time in the house (upon their request).

On Thursday I visited my first landmark in Istanbul: Topkapi Palace. It was built for Mehmet II during the 15th century. It remained the home of the emperor/sultan until the 1850s. The palace was originally the government headquarters, and since then has included a school, stables, housing for foreign ambassadors, but the focal point of the palace museum is the harem. The harem housed over a 1,000 women at its peak. The majority of women were common concubines—very few actually made it into the presence of the Sultan. It took special talents to impress royalty; the most sought skill was belly dancing. Below you will find a picture of where foreign guests would be entertained by concubines training to be selected to perform for the Sultan.



Though the Harm is one of the main attractions due to size and architecture, the treasury hosts some of Islam’s most precious artifacts: Muhammad’s sword and cloak. Pictures unfortunately are not allowed in this section of the palace. One of the many perks of the palace is its location. It is located right next to the Hagia Sophia (which I will be visiting before I leave) on the European side of the Istanbul. Below are more pictures of the visit to the Palace.

This picture is taken from the palace walls looking across the sea towards Asia.


The Influence of Arabic was strong during the time that the palace was constructed. Nearly every room had Arabic scripts or traditional paintings.


This is the first lady's (the father of the Sultan)bathing quarters.



This week while I was in the city with Nurdan, my host mother, we visited her new house. The family bought an entire apartment building. When I say the family, I don’t only mean the immediate family. Tomar, my host father, is very close with his family. His parents will be living in one of the suites in the apartment. His great uncle in other. His brother’s family in another. They are all relocating together, so that as the grandparents and great uncle age, it will be easy to take care of them. This isn’t an uncommon practice in Turkey.

Last night I missed out on experiencing a Muslim tradition. Nurdan, Tomar, and Goki went to a wedding while I was asked to stay with Miray (whose cast comes off in 3 weeks). In Turkish, wedding means two things: a marriage ceremony and an event to celebrate the circumcision of a boy. This wedding was the latter. In the Muslim world, though not written in the Quran, it is a common practice that boys are circumcised as a rite of passage before puberty. From what I understood from my family, it is most common between the ages of 8-10. Once the boy undergoes this procedure a celebration is thrown by his family in order to celebrate his devotion to Islam and the completion of one of the stages necessary to become a man.

Electricity, College, Kurds.

I’ve been a bit MIA from the blog recently—sorry for that. Quite a bit has happened since my last posting, so I will try to be as concise as possible. One of the things that has become quite common at the house are power outages. Apparently during the summer months, they happen multiple times a week. They range anywhere from a brown-out to a few minute black-out. However, on Monday the power went out for over an hour. I didn’t really think much of it, as I have become quite accustomed to having the power go out. However, come to find out that this electricity ran out. Kasaba, the gated community where my family here lives, runs on what I will call a debit system for electricity. You buy a certain amount and when it runs out, it runs out. There is no meter or any warning that you are running low, so it can become a bit tricky (also, apparently you cannot “refill” you electricity until you run out). I just thought that was an interesting way for electricity to function.

Another difference in our cultures: university. Miray will be going to college next year. Though she did well in high school, she didn’t do nearly as well as she had anticipated on state-mandated exam for all seniors. For this reason, she is not permitted to go to the United States for college, as only the top students are allowed to. Therefore she was wavering between France and Istanbul, before settling on Istanbul (which a bit of persuading from both her boyfriend and parents). College beings in about 7 weeks, and Miray is only just beginning to look at schools. This is quite common here. They first will meet with a general college counselor who will recommend the schools that are within their reach. Then, they will visit a counselor who specializes in the field of student the student wants to pursue so ensure that they are going to receive the best education possible. The final day for the students to apply to the Istanbul universities is August 3rd—less than a month before the school year begins.


Great news for Turkey (and me!): Turkey went smoke-free July 19th. Here below is a poster boasting that Turkey is finally smoke free.



This is the final stage of the smoking ban. They first began earlier last year by banning smoking on airplanes, buses, malls and most commercial enclosed areas. Now they are putting on the final touches by banning smoking in all public areas including restaurants and cafes. This has caused quite a bit of talk, though I have been in the city for twice since the ban, and haven’t seen any rebellion (which the state expected). One of the main reasons why Turkey began the smoking bans was to comply with health regulations set for by the EU in order for Turkey to enhance its application. Now, the focus actually does seem to be for the health of the citizens as opposed to cooperating with the EU.

While I am on the topic of the EU, I’ll mention that the Turks don’t seem as excited as they might have been a year or two ago about joining the EU. Especially with the rising tensions between France and Turkey, the people who I have spoken to here would rather not join an organization who sets so many prerequisites for joining (they believe they are already good enough, and do not necessarily want to become European/western). When I asked Firat, Miray’s boyfriend (who will be applying for an international studies program in college for next year) who Turkey’s greatest ally was, he paused. I gathered it was because he didn’t understand the question, as his English though conversational is not quite as good as Miray’s. But no. The pause was because he never really considered Turkey to have any allies. Though it is a bridge between Europe and the Middle East, it is not part of either. Before coming to Turkey, I was excited to see how Turkey functions in both of these two regions, but I am coming to understand it really is ostracized by both more than accepted.
This next story is the one that has resounded with me the deepest since my arrivals. I am quite interested with the events going on with the Kurds in Southeast Turkey. For those of you unaware of who the Kurds are, they are a separatist group attempting to gain independence from the countries in which their region spans: Turkey, Iran, Iraq and Syria.



For decades now there has been ongoing violence in the region, as there is a group of Kurds which are deemed a terrorist group called the PKK. As I am quite interested in the happenings of the Kurds, it is frequently a question that I will inquire about when I am talking about politics here. One of the questions I had was where the Kurds acquired their weapons from, as they are a notorious for living in the poorest regions of Turkey. Firat and Miray glanced at each other before answering me. This time I knew that it was not because Firat needed help translating, they didn’t want to tell me. Finally Miray told me that she thought that the US was supplying the Kurds with weapons. When I asked why she thought this, she explained that if the US helped the Kurds to free themselves, then the Kurds would be indebted to the US, and the US would finally have a solid ally in the Middle East. Also, it (so she says) has been proven that many of the weapons that the Kurds using are from the United States. Though this didn’t surprise me entirely, as I know that our weapons have landed in the hands of many terrorists, she mentioned that it was like the movie “Ironman” (for those of you who haven’t seen it, watch it). The US gives terrorists money because it is cost effective for them. So in addition the US fiscally benefitting from selling weapons to terrorists, she and Firat believe that the US is prompting it so that we have friends in the region.

Return from Bodrum

The reason that I had to return early with the younger two children on Friday is because Aylena went to camp today (and will remain there for the next two weeks) and Goki insisted on going to ProKart racing today. I hadn’t realized that this was going to be his first time being allowed to race his own car. The car that I am referring to is a glorified go-kart. The combination of his nerves and excitement truly was a delight to watch. Accompanying us on the trip to the race track was his older cousin Barat who has been racing for 4 years now. He was offered a spot in the summer program today because the instructors were so impressed with his driving ability. Though Goki was not offered a spot, he was more than thrilled when Barat told him maybe he could find a way for Goki to be part of his pit spot team. Apparently Formula One is quite a big deal for boys Goki’s age. I made the mistake of bringing up NASCAR, for which I was immediately shunned, because NASCAR is not real racing.

Also, I was able to spend some one-on-one time with the father today as he brought me to the race track. I am not able to speak with the father as he knows as much English as I know Turkish and without props or animated expressions, neither conducive to the car, it’s difficult to communicate. I continually hear the kids talking about how strict and serious their father is, so I never really took it personal that he never seemed excited that I was there living with them. However, today seemed to change that. When we arrived at the race track and we saw Goki zipping around the track, I would struggle to find a parent more proud of his son. Tomar (the father) wishes that he had more sons—that has been made clear by everyone. So having a son being his youngest child must be rather difficult in a society that really does put quite a bit of emphasis on men being leaders. Therefore, when Goki is able to prove that he can succeed if motivated, really seemed to make Tomar proud.

An unfortunate event happened in Bodrum while the kids and I were returning to Istanbul: Miray broke her leg. She tripped down one of the winding hills and will be in a cast for the next four weeks. As I was in Istanbul when this occurred, I did not go to the hospital with her. I really would have enjoyed comparing it to my other experience in Turkish hospitals. Miray’s cast looks as most casts would in America, but her crutches as cane-like (as I have found is common in most of Europe). I tried them out this morning, just to see how different they were, and I am convinced that I would break my other leg if I had to use them. I asked her if she had the option of using the crutches that rest under your arms, and she laughed and explained that they were old-fashion and didn’t know why Hollywood still used them in the movies (i.e. She figured that Americans used cane-like crutches as well). Interesting the little differences I am finding.

Bodrum

Story One: Though I know that punctuality is something that is not practiced in all cultures, I was becoming increasingly worried when we were still at the house an hour before our plane for our holiday was to take off. Since we left so late, our driver was trying his best to have us arrive at our destination both on-time and in one piece. I mention the latter part because we were traveling at about 180kph (translation to over 100mph on back roads). Granted for those of you who have been in the car with me know that I don’t mind traveling at fast speeds—so long as I am doing the driving. I was shaking by the time we arrived at the airport. I knew that the driver was on the phone most of the ride, and since I don’t understand Turkish, I hadn’t a clue of what he was saying. I found this out once we arrived at the airport. He had called them, asked security to save us a spot in-line and we were checked in and on the plane 3 minutes before take-off. Needless to say I was relieved. Our luck however ran out on the way back. I took the younger two kids on Friday and we missed our 11:00pm plane. Unlike most international airports that I have been in, the receptionists did not speak English well—which meant that I had to have the 10-year-old translate everything for me. Quite the humbling experience. We ended up flying out that evening on the 2:00am flight.

Now a bit about Bodrum…The father did not join us for the holiday, which meant that there was no one capable of captaining their yatch. Thus, we stayed in a hotel. Bodrum is a small peninsula in the south of Turkey on the Mediterranean Sea designed for upscale tourists—both local and international. Despite the hotel not being all-inclusive, you wouldn’t be able to tell that based on their clienteles ordering habits (if the ice melted in their drink, they would order a new one instead of asking for more ice). Goki is quite the picky eater, and yes, that comment is coming from me. He refuses to eat breakfast unless there is Nutella. One of the mornings when we went out for breakfast he declined eating because he couldn’t have Nutella. I mentioned to Nurdan that right next door there was a market, and I remembered seeing Nutella when we passed it. She immediately thanked me, took 100 liras (about 75$) out of her purse and told the waiter to get Nutella and keep the change. She later additionally tipped him. Now I understand that this is not common practice in Turkey, but in Bodrum, it appeared to be that way.

Something else about Bodrum is that it is notorious for its nightlife. This is the reason why Miray enjoys Bodrum. She had 6 friends spending their holidays in Bodrum, and we were allowed to go out with them at nighttime. It was quite nice for me to spend time with people my own age, because as much as I enjoy the family that I am living with, I’ve found that people of Miray’s age tend to have the best English (though one of her friends only brought her exchange student from Argentina who didn’t speak English or Turkish, so he would talk to me, and I would translate into English to tell everyone else. It was quite enjoyable.) All of the nightclubs are open-air and most are docks (or ships) on the sea. As the weather at night is still in the 70s, it was perfect for going out. Here you reserve a table, which includes a bottle of your choice of liquor, and all of the appetizers that you want. The people varied in ages ranging from teenagers to early 60s. It was quite entertaining witnessing the mingling of both ages and cultures on the sideways and in the clubs.

As I eat 95% of my meals in the house, it was certainly different to be eating out every day. I was able to see not just the Turkish food that my family enjoys, but all of the things that Turks tend to eat in general. I really have to thank my brother Steve here, because if he had not forewarned me about Ayran I wouldn’t have fully been prepared. Ayran is a famous Turkish drink that is salty liquid yogurt. Ayran, like tea, is refilled as soon as the person drinking it finishes their glass. Therefore, I timed it perfectly so that I only had one glass. The drink is literally more salty that the sea that I had been swimming in all day. That mixed with its creamy thick texture does not suit my taste buds well. I did of the fortune of trying stuffed vine leaves which were actually quite tasty. Also between courses at one of the restaurants we were given Bodrum’s infamous cherry juice to enjoy before the next portion of the meal arrived. Trying new foods is becoming quite exhausting, simply because they are so proud of their food here—not liking it is not an option. I can politely decline a few things (such as seafood) but as a whole, I must try and finish everything offered to me. I know this sounds strange to many of you as for most people trying new foods is the highlight of traveling, but as for me, it’s the most cumbersome aspect of being abroad.

First Belly Dancing Lesson. Check.

Story One: Nurdan, my host mother, sent me to her sister-in-laws house to retrieve a platter we brought to her house yesterday with Turkish Baklava. So I made my way through the passage in the bushes, representing the closeness of both the homes and the family, to their house. I was greeted by their housekeeper (common in this neighborhood) and was asked to wait in the sitting room. AnNe, their 5 year old son, came running into the room with something behind his back. I assumed it was the platter. No. Instead he had his toy gun, which upon aiming it at me cried "Die America". Though he was rather fond of me, I am now treated like the bad guy in his video games, because video games come from America.

Story Two: My host family and I were invited to a dinner party the other night. This was perhaps the most lavish dinner party I have ever been too--Chinese themed food and decorations, French themed music, and international guests galore. Oh and about 100 guests. That being said, I was still the only American, and apparently the only one who doesn’t know how to belly dance. Therefore I was given a group instruction lesson--about 20 instructors with me being their puppet. Though it took me a few songs to get the hang of it, I can get by with a few simple moves. However, they noticed I was embarrassed, so they gave me the wonderful opportunity to redeem myself--by singing. Oh yes, you read correctly: singing. The host, on the microphone, informed all the guests that they were in for a surprise, as he flew someone all the way in from America to sing the next song: I Will Survive. For those of you who are aren’t aware of my singing ability, that’s probably because you’ve never heard me sing. I am awful. Yet with a smile and the band microphone turned way up, I granted the host his wish, and belted out all of the words of Aretha Franklin that I could remember. Fortunately no one left immediately afterwards (or god forbid during my fiasco) and most found it rather endearing. However, I am hoping never to have to have a repeat performance.

There is quite bit more that I will be posting on, more political and a bit less personal. But two stories hopeful is enough to suffice for the day. I will be going to Bodrum (better known as Yaktür to my Uncle Scott) for the week, so do not expect any new postings from Tuesday until Saturday. Miss you all, and hope all is well on the home front.

Week One. Check.

Remind me not to get sick while here in Turkey. Though I know with my track record that is easier said than done, I think visiting the local hospital gave me motivation for staying healthy. So here is the story of how I ended up at the hospital: Every night now, the family and I go for a walk, and Goki rides his bike alongside us. Last night, we thought that it would be a great idea for me to race him—me on foot, him on bike. “Temple, TEMPLE” (quickly, quickly) Aleyna is chanting, behind us as Goki and I take off. Needless to say that about 10 seconds into our race as I glanced behind me, and we made eye contact, Goki managed to flip over his handlebars and slid into the side of the road making stealing home look easy. Then, the security van, which patrols the neighborhood 24 hours a day almost runs him over because they don’t see him. Fortunately, Goki didn’t have to endure another collision, but instead has a free ride to the hospital (for all of us).

When we arrived at the neighborhood hospital we were greeted as if they had been expecting us to stop by all evening. The tea was ready for those of us who were not in any imminent pain, and Goki was immediately taken into a room. Being curious, I followed him in with his mother, and saw the doctor rummage through a few syringes in a coke bottle, give him a shot, and then proceed to wipe off the needle and place it back into its 2 liter container. Upon cleaning what originally appeared to be small abrasions with some liquid--which no one knew the name of in English — his wounds literally bubbled and grew in size. He could have probably walked home from the accident and put a few band aids on his cuts, but instead he would have to put full bandages on his pussing wounds by the time we left. Though I fully understand this was an isolated incident, and a very small local hospital, it still made me reconsider the praise I once gave regarding the Turkish healthcare system. Fortunately enough for them though, it doesn’t but them a few trillion dollars further in debt.

Turkish citizens must carry with them their identification cards at all times. This is a different card than their driver’s license, as it proves nothing expect their citizenship status—oh and their family tree, religion, and political tendencies as well. As these cars are administered at birth, the parents choose the responses to these questions. Islam is the predominant response to the question regarding religious affiliation; however, as Modern Turkey was clearly established as a secular democracy, not all citizens are happy to be sharing their personal beliefs with anyone who needs to be reassured of their identification (credit card purchases) or may be considering hiring them for a job. Perhaps they aren’t as obvious as yellow star on their jacket, but these cards reveal quite a bit of information about a person in the allotted 4x6 parameters.

Barbie is apparently making the cover stories in the newspapers here, as a religious group in Istanbul is voicing their concerns with how sinful the doll is. They are along the same complaints heard in America: gives girls unrealistic physical expectations, the outfits are too provocative, the outfits are not inclusive to all cultures, and they exude sexuality (to both men and women). Therefore, the group proposes that to save their religion, Barbie should be banned from the country, joining the ranks of sinful pleasures such as YouTube (though YouTube is being reconsidered to be legal soon). Barbie, according to this article, also represents the West, which this group considers to be a rollercoaster of conservatism. There are eras when sex and promiscuity are flaunted in film and splashed across billboards, and other times when it is confined to more private venues. I wanted to inquire what stage the Turks believed we were in now, a high or low of sexual radiation.

Other things, as I am sure that you are aware that are associated with the United States is our relationship with McDonalds and Hollywood. Those I am sure are self-explanatory, so I won’t bother explaining them for fear of insulting you. However, today Miray and I went to the mall to look for a few things—among them a bathing suit cover-up for me. She told me that she had the perfect store for me when I told her what I wanted: a dress like article of clothing that can go over a bathing suit so that I am not walking around the pool or boat in just a bathing suit. She brought me to Hugo Boss. After I pretended to be interested and told her that I didn’t see anything I liked—which was true—she took me to Armani Exchange. Before we walked in I kindly told her that I needed something a bit simpler, which she didn’t understand. “These stores are all over America, and this is what everyone wears on the OC”. Yes indeed, the OC characters might—but I do not. Though Miray is generally quite aware that Desperate Housewives and Dirty, Sexy, Money do not give the most accurate portrayal of America, she did have the misconception that America is a population drowning in designer apparel.

More personal details of my life—I rarely do leave the house, as my main responsibility is teaching spending time with kids teaching them English. The city center is an hour drive when the traffic is decent, so trips to the city are made on necessity basis. Other than the one small intestine ordeal, I haven’t struggled too much with their foods. As everything is buffet style, my only obstacle is that I am watched like a hawk to make sure that I am satisfied after every meal. Which means that if I don’t take something, they will offer it to me multiple times. I think they understand that though I do like yogurt, I don’t need it on my salad or in my rice, though I could try it with my vegetable assortment. Snacking isn’t too important here, but fruit is always out to be consumed at one’s pleasure—so fruit it is. Fortunately it’s decently healthy for me, because if I ate traditional American snacks, I would be gaining kilos quickly as I am pretty sure I consume close to have my caloric intake from olive oil alone. Oil on my salad, on my bread, on my meatballs, on the table in the center of the patio for lotion…the list goes on.

I am really enjoying how genuinely friendly everyone here is. I have been invited over to countless houses for coffee and/or dinner (AND a wedding, but I couldn’t go as the kids did not). I have now taken two people up on their offer—the kids grandparents (who speak no English) and a gentleman who taught physics at UNH in the late 1970s (mom and dad, I asked if by some odd chance he knew you. He did not). As I still haven’t acquired the taste, or stomach, for coffee, I settle on their tea which I have come to look forward to at the end of every meal. Everyone seems to be interested in why I chose Turkey to stay for the summer, and I still haven’t found out the best way to tell them that I am here because I wanted to see how a secular democracy operates.

I still haven’t taken any pictures yet, but will soon. When I do, I will post them and intersperse them through my postings. Hope all is well on the home front.

Gooble Gooble

This being my first post of the season I apologize in advance for the scatteredness you are about to encounter. Thus far, life here is wonderful. The family that I am living with has a 19 year old daughter (Miray), a 14 year old daughter (Aleyna) and a 10 year old son Gökı. Miray seamlessly speaks English, as well as French. Aleyna speaks French with only one year of schooling for English, and Gökı speaks some English and is learning Spanish. I spend the most time practicing English with the mother and Gökı. I am hoping to improve my French with Aleyna (as she virtually knows no English) but her parents are fairly insistent that I only speak English with the kids. The family also has two housekeepers, a chef and a gardener--no of who speak any English, so I am trying to quickly learn the basics of Turkish so that I can communicate with them and the father.

I have become a show-and-tell piece for the family. Dinner is a minimum of 10 people, as they always have guests over. The gated community where we live (an hour drive from the city center) is filled with extended family and old family friends. Therefore the evenings are always filled with stories. My family will intentionally invite people over who have studied English, so that their guests can practice their English as well. Fun fact about guests here--upon arrival, they are part of the family. You bet your bottom dollar that they will put their feet on the couch and kindly (or not so kindly) remind your child the proper way to behave.

Because there are so many guests over, I have had some great conversations. One of their neighbors was trying to figure out much I knew about Islam by asking me to point out who in the room was Muslim. Though I did not go about pointing fingers at anyone, I had previously known (from conversations with Miray) that everyone in my family was Muslim. I explained to him I understood that many people of their class and more-open mindset do not display their religion in the form of a scarf of symbol. As Turkey is 99% Muslim it was safe to assume that everyone in the room was whether the practice religiously or not. My family is not practicing as they do not partake in prayer nor do they attend the weekly Mosque. Miray explained that her friends also have a similar relationship with religion, as they do not wear scarves nor do they pray at school.

Another interesting topic of conversation was the role that religion should play in the government. Modern Turkey was founded as a secular nation. However, today's government is dominated by an Islamic party, who according to dinner conversations is reverting the country back into a more close-minded style of Islam. Though nothing drastic has happened yet (besides apparently the government secretly paying girls to wear scarves publicly) they are worried about the lack of separation between church and state in the near future.

Fireworks went off at midnight, so I am choosing to believe that an American lives nearby as it is officially the 4th of July here now. I will inquire in the morning as to the real reason however, just in case my assumptions are off. Hope you all have wonderful celebrations.

For now, that's all folks. I will write more (and add pictures) soon.