Too busy I suppose....

Trent and I are happily making our way around Sweden. We drove up to meet my distant relatives in the North and ended up staying a couple extra days there. My life is changed. There is no way to really blog about it.

On patrol

My last day in Odessa I went out on social patrol with the organization. Essentially you get in a van with some workers and usually a couple of kids who live at the shelter come to help. When I went a reporter for canada's NPR came as well. The pastor who started this child here was also a photographer and helping journalists document these kids is important to him. We then drive to places kids are known to be living, tell them we have food and medicine and wait for them to come get it. Some can hardly walk from nerve damage from drugs, others are on drugs at the time. They are all dirty. Some sport obvious injuries... Part of a foot is gone or their face looks like a mashed up stretch Armstrong.

They get soup and bread and random tablets. Workers talk to them. We all smoke. I say little more than hi and how are you, but I let them pull cigarettes put of my pack with there muddied hands and light them for those who are shaking. I gave a lip gloss i never use to the one girl we found who was living on the streets after losing a boyfriend to prison, a baby from the womb, and her apartment in the wake. Many of them choose the streets because they are scared of cops and somehow that makes sense to them. Many are from other countries like moldova. Many aren't ready to get clean. The ones that are true orphans would have to go to real orphanages which is apparently an undesirable place to go. Most basically a normal life with strict rules and school and no drugs or booze is too much for them. But when they decide to change, these organizations are here to help.

It's hard to express how I feel from those moments. I was reminded of my life goals and my immense love of helping others. I didn't feel depressed about it at all. I felt great because I am someone who will help a lot of people.


-- Post From My iPod

I will not spend $200 on shoes.... I will not spend $200 on shoes.

Okay I know its a little cruel, the pictureless posts... but deal with it. I'll update later.

I just spent 3 days in Rome with Teresa. Well, sort of with Teresa... she had a lot of work to do so most of my touring was done alone.

I have to admit I didn't think I would care about Rome. I went because I was tired of Odessa, knew someone in Rome, and felt somehow obligated to see it. One of those places you are supposed to go. But I couldnt escape the power that city has over people. Everything there was beautiful and alive. It was big and busy but still, somehow, felt cozy and safe. The streets are skinny alleys mostly, packed with scooters and smart cars (the Back to the Future had it all wrong. We are all going to be driving micro cars). It is easy to get completely lost in a matter of minutes, because the streets have no rhyme or reason directionally speaking, and yet somehow I felt like I could never be lost as long as I kept my head up and acted like this random square was exactly where I had intended to end up. I felt sexy and beautiful in the city, although I have often heard the opposite from girls intimidated by the confidence of italian women. For me, I felt like they were just like any other women, yes some gorgeous and thin, but there were normal shaped women as well. The key was the walk and the steady facial expression. It is serious, yet not hard, poised on the edge of a smile. A constant Mona Lisa, if you will. Once you have this down (and walking on cobblestones with grace) you are good to go. Plus style, but I got it!

I saw the Colleseum and the Roman stuff first. Not one for history, I wasn't that excited to go, but couldn't help but be in awe once I was there. Old shit is cool. But true to form by the end of the day I was in my usual, "yeah, yeah, yeah... old stuff, old stuff, old stuff" mode. The next day I did the Vatican city, being sure to go to the Sistine Chapel first so I could use my excitement there, and only reach "yeah, yeah, yeah" in St. Peters. Catholics are silly and thats all I'll say. There is a lot to be said for touring major tourist attractions alone. The cigarette becomes your best friend, but its much easier to wade through rivers of tourist groups. You can wear sunglasses and headphones and the street vendors generally leave you be assuming you are a local who just needs to get through this part of the city. You don't need to debate what to see, when to eat, how long to stay... I am actually really glad I saw Rome alone. I was so happy to be there. So filled with the city, I didn't need to stand out as one of the many outsiders invading the place, like V's of geese filling the Ohio parks and skys heading down from Canada each fall.

Now I'm Vienna looking more to hang out with my friend whose spent his whole life here than to sight see. Tonight we go to his University party. The poster looks promising for sure.

Xanadu, or as I like to call him, "Kitten"

So true to form, I actually did something a lot of people just talk about doing. I found a stray kitten on the street and brought it home. It LOVES me! I gave him milk and when he had finished he instantly crawled onto my lap and started purring so loudly I made Trent listen on the phone (which is stupid and annoying I know). He is really calm and sweet and just wants to sleep on me and purr. The first night I gave him a bath because I wanted to sleep with him in my bed and he was filfthy. He was not happy about said bath, but he curled up next to me none-the-less.

Also, his meower is broken and he cannot meow. So sometimes he looks up at me and opens his little mouth, but nothing comes out. I love him. Because I am leaving town soon, I have shirked all responsibility and I pretty much spend the day reading with him on my lap (and then I go shopping). Anywho... he's pretty great.

Yorkshire pudding

So my roommate left, which I'm more than okay with. And i still made her pay the full amount she was supposed to, and I'm okay with that too. (for those keeping track i'm spending about 200 US dollars on a giant one bedroom apartment for6 weeks) anyways, we decided to have a dinner party last night. Flor (austrian) made delicious pasta stuff, Joanna (Westpoint) brought cake and vodka (bless her soul), and James (english) made Yorkshire pudding. Up until this point in my life I have only hold stories of the bland english food, and its all together nothingness, but he seemed confident Yorkshire pudding was delicious so we went with it. First of all, he didn't follow directions the first time, so I had to help him make it AgAIN... boys are dumb.

When it was finished it didn't look half bad, and I was willing to put it in my mouth. It tasted.... fine. Apparently it tasted very similar to how it was supposed to, like breadish french toastish pancake-ish stuff. Flor, Joanna, and I all agreed he had clearly forgotten the sugar, but he claimed it was "savory" not sweet. Although I always thought savory meant rich in flavor, which this was not. In an act reminiscent of the Boston tea Party, i quickly brought forth my strawberry jam. when jam was added, Yorkshire pudding was declared delicious by the non-brits, and James declared he hated us all and would never cook again. I think the jam was probably worth it.

pics soon. promise.

Health Insurance smealth insurance

Right now is the first time I have ventured out of my home in 2 days. I woke up at 5 am yesterday morning to experience one of the most painful vomitting experiences of my life. I slept through Wednesday almost entirely, only waking up a few tmes to notice what extreme pain and discomfort i was in and wonder at what point a person is supposed to go to the hospital. i could barely even sit up on my own. but when i woke up at 9 at night i was a little bit "better" and even managed to eat crackers and juice, so i took it as a good sig and just went back to bed. i slept through most of today as well, and at 4 in the afternoon woke up feeling almost functional and decided to try to move. so i came down to this internet cafe. i'll admit i'm a little dizzy and the stuck shift keys were taking too much effort so i completely gave up on them, but i hope ill be doing alright by tomorrow.

when i walked into the center on monday, everyone was wearing face masks. they told me that two of the kids had gone to the hospital, and half of them had the flu, but no one looked that bad, and when i went on tuesday lots of people weren't wearing masks, and everyone said i didn't need one. chances are, i got it. oh well.

it's an odd, shitty, thing being sick alone. my roommate was kind enough to buy crackers and juice, but wasn't exactly there for me, nor did i want her to be. but we do, when we are at our most pathetic and ugly, really need other people. i wanted someone to sit on the bed til i fell asleep, someone to help me to the bathroom, somone to go buy me a personal dvd player and dvds (extravegant? nah), even someone to talk to. i gave myself headaches texting people when i was awake because i so badly wanted to be acknowledged in my misery. i think its survival instincts. like if none of the other cave people are around and know you are miserable, they won't notice when you die.

pictures

This is simply a post to let yu know im trying to add pictures but im in a country with wanky internet and no personal computer. so just keep checkin!

When in Ukraine experience

Currently I'm on an upperbunk in the platscart wagon of a train headed back to Odessa from a weekend in ivano franckof, surrounded by snoring Ukrainians. Down the aisle from me I can see my 6'7" Austrian friend Flor's feet hanging off the end of his bunk. We passed the 16 hour train ride the only way I know how, by drinking heavily. A few beers and vodka shots into the ride, people around us started to really open up and we began to practice our Russian. At one point a man brought to us a plastic bottle of clear liquid. Real ukranian moonshine. Of course I stepped up to the plate! Truly a once in a lifetime experience and I wasn't going to pass it up for something silly like fear of going blind. I would be lying if I said it wasn't that bad. It really really was that bad. Any who. I climbed up into my bed at 9:30.

The weekend overall was a great success, the apex of which was summitting the highest mountain in the Ukraine. There is something so empowering about climbing a mountain. It's like you accomplished the best thing you could. You can't go any higher. We even felt extra badass because wanting to go quickly we chose the "steep" route, and they weren't kidding. Numerous Ukrainians who were taking this route down as recommended by the woman at the park entrance (jokingly?) encouraged us to turn back. The carpathian mountains around us were breath taking and I really needed this sort of back to beauty release.

Another highlight of that day was our superb negotiating skills with our taxi driver. He drove us two hours out there (would have been a 4 hour bus ride had we made a bus in the morning). We then coerced him into driving us 6 km into the park on some really treacherous roads. We agreed that he would meet us in the same spot at 8 and gave him half his money (the equivilant of 50 usd). He also gave us his "documents" as collateral. It was an amazing soviet Id from 1980. We could tell he was a genuinely helpful guy who was also making a ton of money off us. We really liked him. We even took up his offer to take us to a nearby town with some of the popular sights of the area including a museum of intricate decorated Easter eggs the next day. When he rolled in in the morning he had his 12 year old son with him and he spent the day as our personal tour guide. He even gave me his phone number in case I ever came back. Good guy.

I also found out the answer to "what's the worst that can happen?" when pointing to something random in a menu you can't understand. In this region people really spoke ukranian which is pretty different from Russian and made many things difficult on our trip, menus definately being the most notable. I couldn't decide and thought fuck it, I'll take whatever and picked something cheap, sola. The waitress repeated my order without any hint of amusement so what I ordered couldn't have been that bad. Wrong. What was brought to me was a plate full of thin white slices of something that at first glance resembled fish and whole cloves of garlic. Ugh. But it didn't smell like fish, and it didn't really feel like meat. It was greasy and hard to pull apart. It didn't really taste like anything at all, but reminded me of eating butter a little. Cheese? Nope. The Austrian figured it out upon tasting. "I tink tis is fet". Oh my god! Yup! Fat! Turns out the guide book actually said that sola was something only available and beloved in Ukraine so I said your welcome to everyone for bringing this cultural experience to them, but a rolly polly puppy enjoyed the meal later.

-- Post From My iPod

ya iz amerike

I'm in an internet cafe actually trying to finish up an assignment I didn't do for one of my courses. Ooops. Anyways, I just want to make a note that there is a vending machine here that must be described.

Top two rows: Candy bars.
Third row: Chips including ham flavored and chicken flavored (okay, i bought the chicken ones once thinking it was baked potato, but then really looked at the picture. They were pretty good.
Fourth Row: Soda (but NOT any diet soda... they don't even have diet soda at mcdonalds!)
Bottom Row: 20 oz Cans of beer.

ummmm. Awesome.

Also, I am pleased to report that according to the Austrian, Brit, and Portugeuse dude I hung out with last night. I am the most cliche american they have ever met. I am loud and crazy and get too drunk. I think they like me.

The U.S. Needs more stray cats

So I've been living in Odessa, Ukraine for almost a week now. I'm in an apartment I'm subleasing with another girl. Luckily I got here first and had no qualms about taking the bedroom and leaving her the pull out couch. I even stuck pictures on the walls before she got here, making a switch almost impossible. Turns out she is book smart not street smart, which is my nice way of saying she is totally boring and stupid. She is also from Slovakia, which sounds like a made up country to me. Anyways, I've had worse roommates... Which is probably why I like living alone so much. That, and loud sex.

I'm volunteering at an org called this child here (www.thischildhere.org). Basically there is a home of 20 kids, mostly some end of teenaged, who came there off the street. Many used to use crude street drugs. I asked what the rules of the house were and it was basically "go to school, participate, don't do glue.". It's marvelously disorganized... esp the volunteer role. So far ive accompanied kids places and sat around pretending I could understand them and making faces when I can tell they are talking about me. Needless to say, my Russian has gone to shit, but I'm actually gonna begin taking some lessons. So far the most bonding I've done is through smoking cigarettes... And I smoke way more to strengthen this bond. Who'd have thought I'd be sitting here with a sore throat due to peer pressure from 14 year olds? But I really like them and know in time it'll get easier.

Yesterday was the birthday of the city and I celebrated by heading downtown for the party... Which was mostly marked by the sale of silly wigs and head bands...? But I got a little drink on and danced with some wasted people to street musicians, so all in all, not a bad solo travel night. Also can I just say, god bless a place where the woman who sells you a beer from a street kiosk (for 75 cents) automatically opens it for you. Gotta love soviet mentalities. Life is hard, might as well get drunk.



-- Post From My iPod

Cruise boat!

Its 4 pm and Im in the music bar of a Ukrainian cruise ship drinking a giant beer. On stage I guess what could be called karioke is happening. Karioke with paid back up singers of all classic russian songs everyone knows and the kind that speed up as they go along. My favorite member of the band is the extremely over weight back up singer in a majenta top with make up and hair like a drag queen who just ran backstage for a costume change and is currently sans wig.

The man next to me Is so drunk he was laughing and then it seemlsly morphed into sobbing until his head fell to the bar and stayed there. He is now lamenting in Russian about something I'm sure is sad, but I can't understand him so I just keep repeating tri goda (3 years) and nodding in agreement.

A bartender is wearing friendship bracelets. Im ready for a nap. Ooo! I know this one! Strangers in the night!

-- Post From My iPod

Please don't say I told you so

So you were right. My mom was right. Everyone was right. (an attractive) woman should not travel alone in turkey. Earlier this week I had a run in with a man who lied to me until I finally took a stand and by that point I didn't know where I was. I've been harassed daily. I've refused shady offer after shady offer and with a smile. But last night was the final straw. Turkish men are disgusting rude jerks, and they are a major reason I am leaving this country so soon.

Last night guner put me on a bus to Istanbul where Ill catch a ferry to Odessa. I like long drives and they have hilariously nice road stops, so I was looking forward to some nice time with my thoughts and music. These buses are common and a lot like planes with a flight attendant offering drinks and meals and making sure they don't leave without anyone. I had a set of seats to myself right in front of his prep area and settled in to get some sleep.

Within minutes I felt weird nudging on my back but when I checked nothing was there. I assumed this was how it felt when my seat got bumped into. Oh well. Minutes later I felt a hand brush up on my arm. It was coming from the steward reaching up between the seats. Odd. But obviously he was just keeping his balance.

I dozed. He brushed my leg with his hand. And again on his way back... And lingered? By the time I woke up to find his hand coming through the seat to rest on my upper inner thigh I was in too deep. I yanked my body away thinking he'd get the message. By the point his hand hovered next to my ass I just held my breath and faked being asleep until he fully grabbed it and I pulled away again because I was just too confused,shocked, and upset to know what else to do. He'd grope. I'd pull away with fear... How else do you say no without causing a scene? I know I should have caused a scene but I was at such a loss. I curled up in a tight scared ball, leaving nothing touchable. I felt the same nudging I had in the very beginning of the ride, his fingers pushing up between the seat cushion and back to touch my back.

I called Trent when we stopped. He reminded that this was not okay and eventually when I cowered away from a probing hand, I tapped it and made my angriest face a shook my head no. He only did it a few more times after that because "no" in turkey aparently means "keep trying, I'm into it" and he did the boob brush when serving me tea. But I mean, at that point, the old brush trick could be considered polite.

I was so excited to get off that bus I left my phone on it. Not every man I met here is terrible, just most. I'm gone.



-- Post From My iPod

Sea Leaps (and dance parties)

My first real day in Gumusluk, it was hot, but oh yeah, I lived under a minute walk from "the beach" (which has nothing to do with sand, btw) so I suited up and headed down. My options were a stone pier sprinkled with tattered wooden sun umbrellas and weathered chairs, or a big hotel cove-like beach, sprinkled with topless italians and spoiled kids. Pier it was!

I took in the sun for a while, and sort of reflected on where I was and what the fuck I was doing there. I wasn't sure about much. I knew I would be okay. I knew I needed to be free. And when "My Girls" from the latest Animal Collective album came on (wink, wink), I knew I needed to dance.

So I did. I was NOT alone on the pier. I was highly visibly to the hotel crowd. I was wearing headphones, so no one else could hear the music. But I got up and danced the shit out of it (in a bikini). I continued to dance for a couple more boppy tunes, and then pumped myself up for my next big move. I was going to jump into the sea. This task seems simple enough, but honestly, some pretty big waves come rolling in. Not to mention, that not knowing the temperature of something you are about to submerge yourself in always makes a moment intense. I picked a pump up song (KC Accidental, if you really care) and wandered the edge for a while. I got dramatic and told myself all about what this jump meant, and how very important it was to jump even though it was scary. A life metaphor that I needed in that moment. And eventually I counted to 3 (in Turkish) and leapt off the edge of the pier.

I came up and laughed out loud. The water was cool, but comfortable. The salt so dense that you couldn't help but float. The waves rolled in a way that fighting them was impossible and you had to either ride over them or dive underneath. It was exhilerating to say the least.
Almost every day since then I've made a point (after working on my tan) to have a tiny private dance party and jump into the sea. It still was daunting and scary, but everyday I reminded myself how important it was to take that leap. Slowly but surely it got more easy and I found myself swimming farther and farther away from the pier. Today I had my very last dance party and jumped into the sea for the last time for a while.

This is where the magic happens! The end of the pier has seen many a headphones dance party from me followed by a chicken shit leap that usually involves me screaming and everyone else laughing.

This is an abandoned half built hotel that I really wanted to make into my fort, but didn't have the guts to explore alone.

This is the hotel swimming area I never use because its full of tourists and children, two of my least favorite things.

You speak english too?!

I met Americans! It seems a little hypocritical to say you are running away to see the world, and yet flock with glee toward the sound of a midwest accent, but I was getting really tired of not being able to communicate. So when I was out on my own in a crazy crowded party town, and heard English, I took advantage of it. Excruciatingly, I bumped into the first Americans I have found in Turkey at a bar called "The White House." Of course.

We got drizza drunk. Boys hit on German girls. I left on my own and ended up meeting the Turkish guy my mother warned me about (quite literally). But the next night the Americans actually called me to invite me to go on a boat trip with them. So I went.

These trips are pushed hard here in Bodrum, and basically you get on a boat in the morning, and they tool you around to different picturesque locations and you swim and lay in the sun and they blast the same thumping pop music on repeat. But it still rocked. I swam, I tanned, I laughed. It was nice.
Tolga and some crazy dude cutting up sea urchines, which i was warned not to eat because they were "Viagra."

Chrissy and Timur jump off the boat into the BLUE water.

Okay... so obviously these boat trips aren't a secret or anything.

This picture is purely meant to point out how gorgeous the water was. With goggles on you could see all the "creatures." Beautiful.

This is kind of what our boat looked like. Most of our jumping then happened from that top level. Also one cliff face we found.

I ended up hanging out with them a couple more times. It felt safe and comfortable, which are feelings I've lacked lately. Its nice to have people who want to take shots around! Last night we went out in Bodrum, and I ended up taking the very last "mini bus" back to Gumusluk (a 40 minute ride). I walked in slightly before 6 am to find Guner rummaging about in the kitchen. When I niavely asked what he was doing up at that hour, he reminded me that he gets up that early every morning. Oh.

Edgar the loveable

So a two days ago I went for a run and I passed by a big ole dog. Me being me, I gave him a head rub and talked to him a bit and ran on, and he apparently liked it so much he decided to come! He ran with me for at least half a mile, probably more (i'm bad with distances). Sometimes he bounded next to me smiling, sometimes he'd run ahead, and sometimes I'd loose him behind me, but turn around to see him chasing to catch up. I named him Edgar. Eventually we passed by some boys who had bread, and I didn't see Edgar again.

Until my next run when I saw him sitting on the side of the road. I was so happy to see him and gave him some good petting, and told him to "Stay" as I ran home (and he did).

Last night, I was coming in from a crazy night in Bodrum at around 4. I was walking from the point on the main street where public transportation drops you off to my house and I was really in a shit tastic angry mood. And then I saw him, curled up in a driveway. EDGAR!!! I walked up to him, a little scared to wake such a big, fully balled dog, but he was happy to see me! I sat down and hugged him and cuddled and rubbed his belly. I needed his loving to fix my sour mood. And when I started to walk home. He came. He came right up to the house. I brought him out some cold cuts but he didn't want them. He wanted to stay with me and wouldn't take no for an answer. I tried to shut him out on the porch and he stood by the door looking in. So I caved. I totally brought him inside and all the way up the roof (where I was sleeping) and he without any hesitation curled up next to the bed and slept there. I fell asleep to the sound of him licking *ahem* himself. This morning I woke up with his head nudging me to get up, and let him out. It was awesome. Don't tell Guner.

So I live in a turkish tropical paradise. I am a 30 second walk from the Agean Sea, a 10 second walk from a salt water pool. Its sunny all the time and the skies and water are blue. More pics on Fbook

Do you want to go to a rock concert?

So I started living here I guess...

Yesterday afternoon I decided to walk into town, not really even knowing how far it was, just that it was walkable. Note: by "town" I mean the village of Gumusluk, full of beach side restaurants and tourists.

So after walking about 20 minutes, I pass by a car parked with some middle aged men standing around. I actually remembered them from earlier in the day, because they had witnessed my first leap into the Agean Sea. So they said "Town? Town?" and waved me into their car, and I went with them, figured "why not?" Turned out to be only about a thirty second drive to town, but they dropped me off and went on their way.

I was literally wandering around looking for somewhere to buy a new pre-paid card for my cell phone, and I passed by three girls who were publicizing a concert.

"Hello! Do you want to go to a concert?"

I stopped and came back... "What kind of music?"

"Rock Music! Do you like rock music? Do you want to go to a rock concert?"

I got some info but told them I didn't have a car... to which they responded, "you can come with us!" Uhhhhhhh. YES?! I got a phone card, made some calls, wandered, and came back to ride with them.

We took a mini bus a short ways to a place in the hills called Gumusluk Academy, which apparently rents rooms to artists and writers to stay and work. Turns out the concert was a benefit for an organization trying to keep the ancient city of Myndos (which Gumusluk is built over) to be bought and privatized by some rich guy. The band was apparently really popular in Turkey in the 80's.

So I got drunk and smoked a lot of cigarettes and hung out with the staff of this place. Then I went to a crazy rock show through which the crazy drunk turks sang along and snuck Red Label shots (my kind of girls). It was awesome. I got a ride back home pretty soon after the concert, because I'd missed the last mini bus and had to take what I could get. Most of the people I met aren't sticking around long, so no real friends made, but I can totally do this.

CHECK IT!

Who's Who

So one of these women is my mother:

And this is Guner.

Making your way in the world today...

First, i tried putting pics on here of guner and my mom, but kept getting turkish error messages, so there are some on facebook. Oh yeah, they are all taken by my mom because i forgot my camera. Ha ha ha.

Dropped my mom at the bus stop for the airport and guner and I are drinking tea waiting for a ferry to bidirma from which we will drive to ephasis to see some ruins and then on to bodrum. 1. I drink and enjoy more tea here than I ever dreamed of and 2. I cannot wait to be somewhere I can settle in. I want to meet people I'll see more than once and unpack my suitcase. I want to know how to get around a place and who sells the best figs.

I wasn't prepared for how much I'd stand out here. Generally I like standing out; blending in never appealed to me, but people here stare and boys are very forward. I had emre give his number to my mom after seeing me walk by. A driver who fashioned a flower out of a napkin for me and said I had beautiful eyes. A waiter who showed my mom his ID to prove he was 25. An old man ask me to go home with him when I was alone at starbucks (though I'm pretty sure he thought I was a Russian hooker). And countless other waiters and strangers coming up to me to ask where I'm from, if I'm married, etc. Usually the issue is not that this is happening but the lack of tact. I now know why celebrities get flustered by fans coming up to them. I'm just trying to eat lunch and talk to my family. Please leave me alone. But I can't complain really, better to be pretty than ugly I suppose and I'll get used to the attention. If I can last as a muzungu in Africa, I can certainly handle being blonde in turkey.

-- Post From My iPod

Rubber duckie

Just got back from the hamam, or traditional Turkish bath house. Ummm, okay, life experience... Odd and hilarious and yet still wonderfully relaxing.

Normal enough spa experience to begin. Go to this changing room, wear this cloth... Then you walk into a giant ancient circular tiled room that is at the high end of safe sauna temperatures and are confronted by the truth. Fat old turkish women in black underwear are at work scrubbing down topless Europeans. "Scrubbing down" is by no means an exageration.

The room is mostly filled by a large smooth stone slab. This is essentially the massage table, so you lay down and get comfy and start sweating. when it's your turn to be washed, after a brief wait, during which i stared at the light coming in through the gorgeous stone ceiling, focused on my breathing, and told my mother to shut up,you find your place on the slab in front of one of the matrons. She dumps water on you and scrubs your entire body vigourously. Not gonna lie, it's awesome. Next comes the suds; a literal blanket of lather is laid over you, and the rubbing continues. You flip over, sit up, foot massages, arm massages, etc. When she briefly and enjoyably attacked my shoulders, my big mama pressed my head to her bosom for the best angle. she was all business though, so I refrained from motorboating her. The piece de resistance, however, is the rinse and shampoo. You are lead over to the edge of the room, which is where the numerous taps of running water are found, and told to sit... on the stone floor. Then water is dumped over your head. Warm. Cold. Hot. Warm. Shampoo. Scrub. Water. All I could manage was to not breath in at the wrong moment. When you are done you can relax on the hot stone again,then towel off and dress.

Anyways i sweat a lot but now have some silky smooth skin. Sigh. Good times in the old world.

-- Post From My iPod

Turkish delight

So for those of you that don't know Guner, he is the (wonderful) crazy old turkish man my mother has been engaged to for a couple years. By crazy I mean silly jokester who likes to do things like convince my mom he has invited someone she dislikes to spend the day with us and keeps the rouse going until she practically refuses to speak to him. By old I mean he turns 70 this year.

He grew up muslim but is athiest now (although today he kept asking how to become Mormon). One of his very favorite running gags of the trip has been to pretend he finds the women in full black burkas irresistably attractive. This involves pointing out the "Turkish delights" that have just come around the corner and panting and making "heh heh heh" noises as they walk by. Hilarious.

Get fit turkey!

I swear I've gained 8 lbs since getting here. These people never stop eating bread and cheese and drinking. Not that I'm against these things, I just usually get 90 minutes at the gym to help manage it all.

So today I was determined to get in a run. Now that I think about it, I've never seen anyone out running, but it didn't strike me as that odd. Wrong. Everyone looked at me like I was crazy. No. Like I was a fucking idiot. However this didn't stop them from trying to peddle their goods to me; waving a welcoming hand over their window of pastries. Not only have I clearly gone for a jog with lira stuffed down my shorts, but what I'm craving midrun is a generic circle of sesame seed bread. This, btw is called simit, and as far as I can tell is the most popular food in turkey with two or three old men selling it from a cart on every street corner.

Istanbul is a cross between Russia and NYC. Less soviet uniformity than Russia and many more mainstream brands, but the same awkward stuck between east and west, old and new issues. Off to Cuban night at the lycée alumni club!



-- Post From My iPod

Dawn

It's dawnish and I'm up. Out the window of the apt we are staying in the colors are muted And the sky is overcast but it's still beautiful in a way only a city you've never woken up in before can be. I personally love the visual of a cityscape. It's all layers and assymetry. Rows and rows of different heights colors and geometries (and rows and rows and rows for Istanbul, fuck, this city Is big).

I have no idea what we are doing today but my ankles are still puffy from the plane yesterday and my bruise makes me self conscious.

Okay hours later due to lack of wifi. We saw some mosques. We rode some ferries. I pet a lot of stray cats. My mom got some dudes number for me who said he'd teach me english. None of you know guner but if you did it is no surprise he won't let this go. I'm out on my own for the first time right now... Star bucks. But it is convenient to have a native around too. I'm already tired of being a tourist and I really need to work out.


-- Post From My iPod

So fucking scared

So I leave tomorrow. I spent yesterday cleaning out my apartment. Giving away or throwing away about 80-90% of everything I own. Eerie.

I am scared out of my mind. I don't know if I am more scared or more sad. I am scared of the unknown. I am scared of being alone. I am scared of leaving and regretting it, and looking silly for coming home. I know how shitty it can feel to be alone, and I am so scared to feel that way again.

And I am sad. Sad to leave the friends it took me so very long to make here. Sad to leave the comfort it too me so very long to find here. Sad to leave the new people I've just met, and the old people I truly love. I can't help but wonder what I'm going to miss out on here. This is a problem I often have. Never content to be happy where I am. Always wondering whats going on some where else. In this very second, I feel like Lawrence will have the cool stuff I don't want to miss out on.

I know I will make my own memories. I know my life will be better no matter what. I'll be stronger no matter what. I know I will meet amazing people and have so much fun.

But right now, I am just so fucking scared.

skin

So I've been sleeping naked a lot lately. I feel like its an exercise in totally and fully being comfortable with myself. I'm about to embark on a trip where all I've got is myself, and I want to know every inch of me before I go. Be perfectly confident in it. I like how soft my skin is. I am amazed at the way my body regulates its own temperature. God, I love my breasts and the shapes they make on my chest when I wake up in the morning with the blankets disheveled. They are totally perfect. They are smaller than they were two years ago, and I miss the old ones, but the new ones are pretty cool too. I like the way my cats face feels on my shoulder. Sometimes he isn't touching my skin and I'll go out of my way to throw my arm under him, connecting our warms (yup, warms).

When I used to sleep naked (okay, sometimes by way of "passing out") I would wake up a few hours later feeling exposed and throw on a t-shirt or underwear to fix it. Haven't had those moments lately. Its good. Don't like them.

I should also mention I live on the ground floor with giant sliding glass doors for windows. And I leave the blinds open so I can wake up to the woods and birds and squirrels. But last week I totally woke up to a utility worker walking around in my back yard. I was definitely naked. Oh well.

before me....

Before me lies the edge of the world. I am on my way there running.

-from a papago song

before...

I have about six weeks before I go. Sometimes I am scared out of my mind.

I travel a lot; I hate having my life disrupted by routine. ~Caskie Stinnett