Due to a 200,000 person protest/riot down the street, Gavin has forbid me from leaving the house with the exception of a visit to the Internet Café to post this blog.

Not too much to report. We had a really good Valentine’s Day. I ended up cooking us dinner: Turkish dolmas, carrot/yogurt salad, a cheese platter and salad to start, and creamy eggplant pasta for dinner. YUM!!

Last weekend we joined a group of our friends for a night out in Taksim. Unfortunately when we decided to leave at 2 am we were faced with the challenge of getting back to the Asian side from Europe. After about 11 all the ferries stop running and Gavin refuses to take the bus, so we were stuck taking the Domus (mini bus). After walking about a mile in the pouring rain (a torrential downpour that soaked me through my winter jacket, jeans, and shoes) we finally got to the domus stop. The five of us pilled into the vehicle, only for the driver to tell us we have to wait for two more passengers before he can leave. WTF. Gavin tried to bribe him with 4.80 TL (the price of one fare) but the driver refused. It took about 15 verses of “The wheels on the bus go round and round,” “This is the song that never ends,” and a 5 TL bribe to finally get him to drive us. I guess the “This is the song that never ends” is just as annoying if you don’t understand English.

I have become addicted to yet another Turkish food: Gozleme. Some of Gavin’s students recommended a gozleme restaurant near our school. We have dinned there 3 times in the past week. I cannot get enough of it!

This morning started like any other morning until on our walk to work we realized the main street we have to cross had been barricaded off with police fences and was being guarded by hundreds of armed policemen. When we got into work we found out there was going to be a protest along the waterfront today. Two hundred thousand people were expected to come from all over Istanbul, making it the largest protest in over 20 years. Rumors were flying about potential police brutality and what not. The noise on the street grew louder and louder throughout my morning class. When we left school just an hour and a half ago, the police force had tripled, if not quadrupled since the morning. There were soldiers with machine guns, army tanks and police in riot gear amongst the regular police. There were already thousands of protesters filling the street. From our apartment I can see helicopters flying over where the protest is happening. Pretty wild.

Tonight one of our fellow English Time teachers is having a Valentines Day party at her apartment in Moda. I am supposed to meet Gavin at work around 7 to go to the party. I hope I am not pummeled by the angry mob on the way over.

I guess that’s all for now. Hope all is well back home!!

Oh! Almost forgot… HAPPY BIRTHDAY MOM!!

MAJOR EVENTS OF THE PAST TWO WEEKS

Gavin and I celebrated our one year anniversary on the 27th of January. Very exciting. I bought Gavin a guitar, which has led the creation of our music/art collective, “Beyaz Balina.” When we aren’t teaching Turks English, we are busy recording our album and working on our watercolors. Expect the album out soon!

We received 10 month residency permits last week. We can now legally live in Turkey for the rest of our contract.

I have finally recovered from my three week mysterious illness. Still finishing up my second round of antibiotics, but I am off pain killers and am feeling better. YAH!!!

Gavin got a weekend afternoon class assigned to him. He has not been very happy about it. He can’t handle the 32 hour work week.  Luckily I still have my afternoons free to do as I please.

We celebrated my 24th birthday on February 1st with a bang! I worked that morning. My students surprised me with a birthday party. They brought me a cake lit with candles and sparklers, cookies and tons of presents. What a sweet class I have. We spent the last hour of class talking and listening to American music,which for the most part my students like. I spent my free afternoon working on some art projects. Around 8, Gavin took me to dinner at Viktor Levi. We ordered steaks and wine. It was fabulous. After dinner had some friends over for cake and cocktails. Over all my birthday was perfect.

We went to our friend Andy’s apartment for a Super Bowl party on Monday night. All the guys watched the game, ate pizza and hooted and hollered over the plays. Amy, Shari, and I decided that in the future we will have to have some sort of girls night out whenever there is a sports event on TV.

Guess that’s all to report over here in Istanbul. Hope all is well back in the States.

Hilary Figgs: I have no idea if you read this blog, but I need your address. I have no idea where you are living now.

Headline: Shitty Sting Song from the Nineties Quoted on Random Blog: “I’m a legal alien, I’m a legal alien…I’m an [American] in [Istanbul].”

• We obtained our residency permits after a harrowing experience at the Emniyet (Turkish version of the DMV) so we are legal aliens for the next ten months. Our next bureaucratic-stepping-stone to avoiding death in Turkish prison is obtaining work permits. I expect another long day in a musty, cramped room.

• According to the scathing teacher evaluation recently delivered by my boss - I am experiencing a “complete disconnection” with my students. I don’t exactly know what that means but it sounds serious…maybe a mutiny is brewing. Looks like I may have to play guitar in the subway for change.

• Still working 23 hours a week and loving every minute of this gleeful existence…hate to be a braggart but this whole free time thing is dope. Per the above note, I probably won’t be as stoked when I’ve suddenly happened upon 24 hours of day of free time after I’m forced to abscond from English Time, sneaking away from a horde of banshees carrying burning torches, saliva dripping from their blood-thirsty jaws as they search for infidels, neophyte teachers, and other assorted wretches from the dregs of society. 

• Turkish buses are the bane of my existence. Most of my friends know I cream over public transportation and will rap ad nauseam about the benefits of transportation modes that most Americans find horrendous (SF Muni for example), but the buses here just plain suck. Cramped, moist, gut-wrenchingly jerky, expensive…I could list negative adjectives for pages. Stick to the ferries at all costs my visiting compatriots. Lucky for me bus trips are few and far between…
  

A Big Island

A brilliant sun shines down from the azure sky and all is good. Two days of respite from the frozen sheets of rain that fall indefatigably and we are left in the brightest of dispositions. Mix that pleasant weather in with a break from the classroom and a heavenly confluence is reached. The ephemeral nature of these crisp, clear winter days turns any wise soul into a newborn Utilitarian – one must squeeze as much activity as possible into every waking hour.
We took full advantage of the circumstances, awoke early, scraped the crust from our tired eyes, and made haste to the ferry terminal. Excitement was in the air as we strode towards the coastline. The school life had been taxing this past week and we were ready for an epochal day to mark the early stages of the year. (In common fashion, we waited in the wrong terminal and missed the initial boat. This was aggravating but gave us ample time to hit up the local guitar shop and plot out my next big payday splurge before we caught the noon ferry).
Our final destination on this picturesque Monday afternoon was Büyükada (Big Island). The largest of a chain of islands that lie just off the mainland in the Sea of Marmara, Büyükada is known for its traditionally non-Turkish population and its absence of motorized vehicles. It is a summer destination for the wealthy and the deciduous tree-lined streets are cluttered with beautiful old wooden mansions. Picture the strange juxtaposition of the sprawling, genteel estates of the American South transplanted to a Mediterranean setting and you have a likewise image.
In short order we discovered that the preferred mode of transportation is horse-drawn cart and of course the animal lover/fair-weather vegetarian of the group was opposed to being dragged through the streets by sorrowful, emaciated beasts of burden. (The evil little fiscal conservative that lies in us all and sometimes has the audacity to raise his conflagrant voice was also quick to dissent to the idea due to the 30 lira price tag that accompanied the carriage ride.) The fashionista of the group subsequently decided against bike travel due to a coat that somehow impeded leg movement…arrgh. Thus, we were forced to march the three and a half miles or so to the top of the island by foot in search of a mystical church and restaurant that supposedly awaited us.
The hike to our destination was no trek in the Himalayas; conversely, it was more akin to the proverbial “walk in the park”. Sadly, this duo carries none of the fitness and dexterity of the Sherpas and thus our energy began to waver rather quickly.
If I recall correctly, I was finding it hard to produce any saliva to expectorate and was silently cursing myself for leaving the Nalgene at home when Nellie histrionically shrieked to the unflinching Gods, “I am so dehydrated that I’d drink my own pee…if I could pee!”
It was at this same, desperate moment that the faint, yet unmistakable clamor of shitty Euro techno could be heard through the trees. A few more minutes of trudging along the footpath and we happened upon an oasis in the form of a makeshift café, a toothless garçon, and cold, sweet spring water. Spirits were immediately lifted with the nourishment and the remainder of the journey was a pleasant sojourn as we moved with a new purpose along the path.
At the apex of the island sits an old Greek Orthodox church and a modest outdoor eatery ran by a one man marvel that both cooks up some great comfort food (word to the French fries and meatballs) and has enough beer stocked in his fridge to replenish the hydration of even the weariest traveler.
We arrived late in the afternoon to this area of apotheosis and as the waning sun shimmered off the cool waters of the sea far below and the droplets of perspiration on my forehead began to dry it was all too easy to experience the warmth of inner solitude. The calm of the hilltop was all encompassing and a strange feeling of religious devotion descended upon me that could never be duplicated by the cold didacticism of organized piety. A spirit devoid of human tampering permeated my core, something so pure and pagan that only nature could have produced it in all her breathless glory.
I hoped to pass an eternity in this aforementioned condition…alas, I am doomed to live a faithless existence and the moment was abruptly ended when a gregarious bastard of a feline strode out of the churchyard and broke the enduring silence with a brutal cacophony - the sharp staccato of mournful howls and mews accompanied by a deep, reverberating purr bass line. Awoken from my state, I tapped Nell on the shoulder and motioned towards the trail. It was time to return to civilization.
The descent was all too easy. Sated by the delicious meal and the feeling of accomplishment our legs weightlessly cruised along the footpath towards the ferry terminal. We’ll be back soon.

Happy New Year!

This past week in Istanbul: Gavin and I rang in the New Year with a Canadian couple we have been palling around with. I made a pasta dinner, we drank wine and Raki at our house then wondered down to the water front just before New Years and toasted to 2009 with KIWI flavored white wine, which was the cause of my hangover the next morning. Good god…what will these crazy Turks think of next? We of course had a drunken altercation with two Turkish men, which resulted with Amy getting her ass pinched (luckily my long winter coat spared me from getting pinched as well, and saved Gavin from a life time in Turkish prison for ripping a Turk limb from limb.)

My classes have been going well, my weekend class is preparing for their Grammar Exam. It is nice when you see students’ faces when they finally really get something you have taught them. However it is very frustrating when they call in a fellow teacher, whom they all have a crush on, and forget all the English I have taught them altogether.

As I previously mentioned, my weekend class met Gavin last weekend at our “party” and after finally learning the simple past tense this week, they were able to ask me questions about him. After they learned that we lived together in San Francisco and that we moved to Istanbul together, one student actually asked me if we “sleep together.” Interesting. (Editor’s Note: We maintain separate sleeping quarters once a week to observe the Sabbath).

Gavin and I finally got paid on the 3rd. Very exciting. Suddenly we have found ourselves rich with the Turkish Lira and spent over 100 TL the day we got paid. I bought myself my fleece blanket and a Grammar exercise book for my classes, and of course we finally got a chance to stock up on necessities like toilet paper, which was, of course, Gavin’s big purchase (Editor’s Note: Had to jump at such a great price).
********************************************
A Brief Forward: Nellie is a self-professed "crazy cat-woman in training" and has spent some time observing the felines next door. I think everyone will enjoy this piece that she wrote the other night... Gavin

An interesting fact about our apartment: we live next to a cat palace. The building next door looks as though it should be abandoned. The stucco exterior is crumbling. The occupants have opted to create a scrap metal yard in front of their door. Mountains of trash are heaped in front of a pointless two-foot cement wall that surrounds the scrap yard. The only tenants appear to be cats, however the ever-changing laundry that hangs on one of the balconies suggests that humans do in fact occupy the building. The only life I have ever seen coming or going from the building are cats. The king cat appears to be an orange tabby that usually sits on the wall, but can often be seen following the fish cart that a man pushes through our street to the corner to sell his daily catch of sardines. About twenty other cats live under the king’s rule. They can be seen rooting through the trash, hiding under cars, and sleeping among the shards of scrap metal.

These cats have become quite a distraction to our daily lives. As some cat lovers may know, cats udder an earsplitting shriek whenever they fight or have sex. From the sounds of it, the cats next door do both quite frequently. Although our apartment is on the fourth floor, and a wide alley way divides our building from the cat palace, the shrieks sound as though they are coming from our balcony. These cries come at all hours of the night, echoing through our apartment.

Happy Belated Christmas!!!

Christmas in Istanbul is rather strange. Around the 22nd of December people start decorating their windows with holly and lights. Christmas trees and toy Santa dolls start appearing in store displays around the 23rd. Christmas comes and goes on the 25th, however none of your students wish you a Merry Christmas. Even the Turkish staff at work is totally oblivious to the holiday. Around the 28th people dressed in Santa Claus costumes start roaming the streets of Istanbul, more trees, more lights, more holly. Students start giving you gifts around the 29th… total confusion.

Istanbul update:
-This week has been quite nice. I taught six days in a row, covering two morning classes for my partner teacher, Katie, who went on holiday for Christmas, as well as teaching my regular two morning classes, two evening classes and two weekend classes.
-We are having a dinner party tonight with our Canadian pals and our landlord Ahmet. Ahmet told Gavin he is going to bring a bottle of Rakı, which we have yet to try and is an alcoholic drink similar to Ouzo or Sambuca. Should prove to be interesting.

-Istanbul has been getting colder by the minute. For the past few days we have had freezing rain all day and night making walks to and from work unbearable and going out after work impossible. My only saving grace has been the hat Oya got me for Christmas, without which I might have frozen to death.

-Gavin finally decided it was time to turn the heat on after we went a week (editors note: a day) without being able to feel our hands. However he refuses to turn on the radiators in any room but the living room (editors note: saving energy is good for the Earth and cost effective). After my complaints and protests that we should be able to turn the heat on in our bedroom so we didn’t have to sleep in hoodies and sweatpants every night, I received a hot water bottle for Christmas. Thanks Gavin.

-My Weekend Level One class threw me a surprise New Years party after class, complete with tons of homemade Turkish dishes, decorations, balloons, and music. I felt like a movie start as the girls in my class lined up to take pictures with me, giggled, and begged me to get my boyfriend. After Gavin finally arrived, there was more giggling, more picture taking and finally we got a chance to eat. Gavin’s only comment about the party was that the Profiterole was “slop on top of slop.” I think he was just upset at the lack of booze. (pictures of this party and of my lovely Turkish students can be found on facebook.)

-Our stage of temporary poverty is nearly to an end, as we recently learned that our monthly rent allowance is given out on the 3rd of each month. Gavin plans to buy himself a cheap guitar with some of his allowance, I plan to buy myself a cozy fleece blanket. But in the meantime I have perfected Poverty Stricken Teachers in Istanbul classics such as rice and beans, eggplant pasta, and lentil soup. YUM!

***On an even more exciting note, the photo of me on Election night that made it to the cover of the Seattle Times was voted as one of the Top 10 photos of the year out of over 6,000 photos taken for the newspaper. It was reprinted again, for the THIRD time. I need to start collecting royalties on that picture….first the front page, then tee shirts, now again on the front page….

Cold Rain, Good Food, and the Strange Feeling of Going to Work (Without Dread)

Cabin fever and its accompanying symptoms have started to enshroud the occupants of the flat like a thinly veiled mist. The pretty young thing in the blue hoodie twirls her hair, deeply enthralled by her cheap paperback. She is an avid reader and was educated by artists at the finest of institutions; thus, she is naturally drawn to the novels’ myriad allusions to symbolism in the realm of religious artifacts. For this fact alone, she can be excused for delving so wholeheartedly into a story with such an otherwise contrived narrative.

The man sits typing, bent over the computer resting in his lap like a vulture picking at roadside carrion. It is again raining sheets outside. The precipitation is coupled with a sharp sea breeze that quickly turns even the briefest of cigarette breaks into an arduous test of human endurance. The man attempts to put words into sentences, but he is incessantly distracted. A tempo change in the background music, the sound of pages turning, a rattling in the above flat…the poor soul was raised on MTV and, alas, he is now equipped with the attention span of a housefly. Despite the Sisyphean task that lies ahead he trudges onward…hunting and pecking on the keyboard – a constant battle waged with the word processor and its tyrannical grammar check.

The people are both perfectly comfortable in their respective pastimes and the room is surely large enough to ward off any feeling of claustrophobia, but they both unconsciously feel as if they should be amongst others. With bones warmed by a recent shower, they are both entertained for the time being; however, their youthful energy and spendthrift tendencies will soon prevail. Into the night my children, into the cold night…