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.