The month of Ramazan started last Friday here. While I lived through Ramazan in Turkey last year, it was really not any sort of an issue, as I lived in a diplomatic section of Ankara, and socialized with expats and fairly westernized folks. Neighborhood restaurants were full all day long. I never even heard the early-morning drums, which are sounded to wake people up before dawn to eat before sunrise.
This year, oh boy is Ramazan a part of my life. About 5 people at work do not fast; that leaves at least one hundred people in the building not eating, drinking or smoking during daylight hours. As a Catholic, I look at our fasting and feel like a weakling: we get water, there's nothing about smoking for those so inclined, and we even get a light meal as part of our fasting requirements. And our fasting days are generally one at a time, spread out over the year. A solid month of not eating or drinking, even water, from sunup to sundown, while working, is rough.
As part of Ramazan at a religiously-inclined workplace, the company cafeteria has been shut down, as has the bakery on the ground floor. The coffee machines are out of coffee and will not be refilled until late September. The snack machine has 2 bags of pretzel rods left and also will not be refilled til almost October. The one thing that is still around, thank goodness, is the water cooler. Us non-fasting heathens have stockpiled tea and instant coffee mixes to get our workday coffee fixes, although I've tried to avoid drinking my blackberry tea, because the smell wafts across the news floor, and that seems pretty insensitive especially towards the end of the day.
The nice part about Ramazan at work though is that the company gave the nonfasters gift cards to spend on lunch at local restaurants. Unfortunately, so far they only work at McDonald's and Sbarro. On the bright side, Sbarro has caesar salad, which is excellent. On Fridays, when we work late, the cafeteria opens to serve iftar, or the fast-breaking meal, which is a big production. Community iftars are pretty fun, especially as the countdown to sundown begins: there's a tide of noise as everyone gets excited to finally eat, which gives way to absolute silence, save the occasional clink of silverware.
One cultural crossover I learned about today is the Ramazan gift exchange. One of our page editors is organizing this, at work; it's exactly like Secret Santa, except the exchange occurs at the end of Ramazan. It's fitting, because Seker Bayram, the holiday at the end of Ramazan that literally means "sugar holiday," is somewhat Christmas-like.
In my neighborhood here, as well, most people observe the fast. The restaurants are nearly empty, and even the touristy fish restaurants are hurting for customers until about 8p.m., when everyone can eat again. My bread guy has a small stand in front of his shop piled high with Ramazan bread, which is apparently special and made only for Ramazan. It's delicious, so I wish they'd make it year-round, but alas. It's round, and slightly puffier than their normal pide bread.
Another new experience for me has been the Ramazan drums. On Sunday morning I heard them for the first time ever. Good Lord are they loud. I'm fairly certain there was a two-party drum-off below my window Sunday morning; it went on for over ten minutes, which I'm sure many would agree is not at all what you want to hear when it is 4a.m. and you don't need to get up and eat because you can indeed eat all day, heathen that you are. Also, it woke the cat up, who then decided that 5:30a.m. was most definitely time for me to get up.
Aside from the drums (which actually can be somewhat pleasant, part of the charm of living in my part of Istanbul) and the lack of coffee and breakfast at work, I've really enjoyed Ramazan this year, as I've actually been able to see and live with people who are really fasting, and who embrace the spirit of Ramazan. I'm really impressed by everyone I know who is able to work all day without caffeine or even water (I think the water part is particularly impressive); going all day without imbibing anything would be not bad at all if one did absolutely nothing all day, but to get up, travel to work, concentrate on frustrating wording issues all day (current challenge: trying to catch every time writers refer to the government's Kurdish initiative as the "final solution to the Kurdish problem" -- because that's just not good) and then travel home, all without water or anything to nosh on, that's just really darn impressive. And they do it every day for a month.
I've heard that tempers get short towards the end of Ramazan, which is understandable. Luckily, I've just happened to plan my trip back to the States to coincide with the last week of the fasting month. So while everyone here is counting down the days til they can eat normally again, I'll be doubly haraam, with my not-fasting and my seeking-out-of-pork-products planned for my visit to the States. It's going to be good.
-R
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
Sunday, August 16, 2009
Summer in the city
Note: I most definitely wrote and tried to post this about a week ago, but apparently it didn't post, so I'm posting it now for your reading pleasure
Summer's just been flying by, punctuated by an annoying and ongoing lack of home internet (hence the intermittent blog posts). Many expats seem to leave or come to a country in the summer, so the past several weeks have been overfull of meeting new people and saying goodbye to older friends. I did take the time to join the Professional American Women of Istanbul, and although I've not been to a meeting yet I've heard they organize some pretty good things.
I also met a set of new neighbors, also Americans, and am currently catsitting for them. I think we're probably the only 3 Western yabancis in the area. They're quite nice, one does legal consulting and the other aid consulting and they've lived all across Central Asia, so of course I've been picking their brains about life in the wider Turkic world.
Earlier this week, I headed to an expat meetup, where everyone was concerned when they found out I didn't have a Turkish boyfriend. Everyone was quite fun though, and, like most expats in this city, had fascinating back stories.
This weekend I had Sunday off, and a friend and I had a pretty full weekend planned, til she emailed Friday night: her cat had fallen out the window of her 4-story flat. After a brief panic, we found out that everything was fine and the whole neighborhood seems to have seen the whole thing: the cat fell, spread her 4 legs, puffed out her belly "like a parachute," landed, and scampered over to the astounded bakkal. We scaled back our plans to spend a bit more time with the "ucan kedi," as the neighborhood now calls Baykus ("The flying cat"), but still ended up having margaritas and Mexican food at one of the maybe 2 Mexican restaurants in the city, taking the midnight ferry up to the edge of the Black Sea (it's round trip, and there are fish restaurants at the top, but when we got there the captain said they'd be leaving again in 30 minutes! So we wolfed down our calamari and took a quick sprint through town).
This morning, we got up pretty darn early and took the bus up to Emirgan, which is pretty was up the Bosporus but still part of Istanbul. There's a fantastic regional park there, and we did some running and training (or, Cat did a lot of running, and I did some running and some walking). I'm trying to get ready for the Istanbul Marathon's 15k run, in mid-October, which will be a bit of an adventure as I don't know that I've ever run more than 4 miles at once before.
After some catching up and grad school research (now on my watch list: Oxford?), I'm on my way back home to the cats and the houseguest, with scrathing post in hand (it's been an issue). I think I'm getting kicked out of this manti place, so I'll inshallah update sooner rather than later
-R
Summer's just been flying by, punctuated by an annoying and ongoing lack of home internet (hence the intermittent blog posts). Many expats seem to leave or come to a country in the summer, so the past several weeks have been overfull of meeting new people and saying goodbye to older friends. I did take the time to join the Professional American Women of Istanbul, and although I've not been to a meeting yet I've heard they organize some pretty good things.
I also met a set of new neighbors, also Americans, and am currently catsitting for them. I think we're probably the only 3 Western yabancis in the area. They're quite nice, one does legal consulting and the other aid consulting and they've lived all across Central Asia, so of course I've been picking their brains about life in the wider Turkic world.
Earlier this week, I headed to an expat meetup, where everyone was concerned when they found out I didn't have a Turkish boyfriend. Everyone was quite fun though, and, like most expats in this city, had fascinating back stories.
This weekend I had Sunday off, and a friend and I had a pretty full weekend planned, til she emailed Friday night: her cat had fallen out the window of her 4-story flat. After a brief panic, we found out that everything was fine and the whole neighborhood seems to have seen the whole thing: the cat fell, spread her 4 legs, puffed out her belly "like a parachute," landed, and scampered over to the astounded bakkal. We scaled back our plans to spend a bit more time with the "ucan kedi," as the neighborhood now calls Baykus ("The flying cat"), but still ended up having margaritas and Mexican food at one of the maybe 2 Mexican restaurants in the city, taking the midnight ferry up to the edge of the Black Sea (it's round trip, and there are fish restaurants at the top, but when we got there the captain said they'd be leaving again in 30 minutes! So we wolfed down our calamari and took a quick sprint through town).
This morning, we got up pretty darn early and took the bus up to Emirgan, which is pretty was up the Bosporus but still part of Istanbul. There's a fantastic regional park there, and we did some running and training (or, Cat did a lot of running, and I did some running and some walking). I'm trying to get ready for the Istanbul Marathon's 15k run, in mid-October, which will be a bit of an adventure as I don't know that I've ever run more than 4 miles at once before.
After some catching up and grad school research (now on my watch list: Oxford?), I'm on my way back home to the cats and the houseguest, with scrathing post in hand (it's been an issue). I think I'm getting kicked out of this manti place, so I'll inshallah update sooner rather than later
-R
Saturday, July 18, 2009
Thoughts on the neighborhood
After living in a fairly expat-rich neighborhood in Ankara, I was in for a bit of a shock when I moved to my current neighborhood in Istanbul. As far as I can tell, I am the only Western foreigner living here, and definitely the only single female twenty-something Western foreigner.
This is both a blessing and a curse. My first week here, I wandered into a pide shop to buy bread, and chatted with the owner a bit. The next day, as I walked down a different street, I heard a man turn to his friend to fill him in on me: “She’s American, she used to live in Ankara but now she lives here. She writes and she studied at ODTU.” My conversation with the pideci had spread around the neighborhood in under 24 hours, and almost everyone knew my basic background.
Not everyone remembers that I do live here though; there is a street nearby lined with restaurants catering primarily to tourists, and I walk down it almost every day. Even a month after moving, waiters and restaurant owners chorus behind me as I navigate between groups of German and Japanese tourists: “Excuse me lady! I have a question, do you want to eat? Our fish is the best!” I find the “I have a question” one a bit annoying, as I usually stop to hear what it is, hoping it’s not a request that I eat at their establishment, only to hear “Why aren’t you stopping here for dinner?” or “Do you want a drink? Fish?”
There is one fish restaurant whose staff has figured out that I’m a local. We exchange greetings as I take the corner in front of their tables, me in Turkish and them in English.
I’m not, however the only foreigner in the neighborhood -- not by a long shot. My neighborhood is home to a “migrant guesthouse -- Turkish doublespeak for an illegal immigrant detention center. The people who live there are allowed to stay there, and not much else: they cannot work, they would face problems leaving Istanbul, and I believe their movements within Istanbul, outside of the guesthouse, are restricted as well.
Most of these “guests” are of African origin: the call shops around my neighborhood prominently advertize their rates to Somalia, Congo, Libya and Ethiopia. It’s actually quite odd, I’ve seen more pagnes here than I have since leaving Niger; I keep meaning to ask if there’s a Turkish source for them.
I do wish that the government would allow the migrants to work legally, as I’d love to see some migrant-operated businesses in the area (especially restaurants -- Turkey has a dearth of ethnic food and I would absolutely love to find a place selling shinkafa da wake or fari masa, or serving up fresh cold glasses of byssop). I occasionally see a migrant or two working, clearly under the table, in one of the small tailoring factories that dot the neighborhood.
I do think I enjoy my current neighborhood more than I'd enjoy living in one of the "expat-heavy" areas -- Cihangir, for instance, although I do find myself walking around that neighborhood quite often. There's just something to be said for walking down the village-like streets of my neighborhood, where if everyone doesn't know my name, they do know who I am.
This is both a blessing and a curse. My first week here, I wandered into a pide shop to buy bread, and chatted with the owner a bit. The next day, as I walked down a different street, I heard a man turn to his friend to fill him in on me: “She’s American, she used to live in Ankara but now she lives here. She writes and she studied at ODTU.” My conversation with the pideci had spread around the neighborhood in under 24 hours, and almost everyone knew my basic background.
Not everyone remembers that I do live here though; there is a street nearby lined with restaurants catering primarily to tourists, and I walk down it almost every day. Even a month after moving, waiters and restaurant owners chorus behind me as I navigate between groups of German and Japanese tourists: “Excuse me lady! I have a question, do you want to eat? Our fish is the best!” I find the “I have a question” one a bit annoying, as I usually stop to hear what it is, hoping it’s not a request that I eat at their establishment, only to hear “Why aren’t you stopping here for dinner?” or “Do you want a drink? Fish?”
There is one fish restaurant whose staff has figured out that I’m a local. We exchange greetings as I take the corner in front of their tables, me in Turkish and them in English.
I’m not, however the only foreigner in the neighborhood -- not by a long shot. My neighborhood is home to a “migrant guesthouse -- Turkish doublespeak for an illegal immigrant detention center. The people who live there are allowed to stay there, and not much else: they cannot work, they would face problems leaving Istanbul, and I believe their movements within Istanbul, outside of the guesthouse, are restricted as well.
Most of these “guests” are of African origin: the call shops around my neighborhood prominently advertize their rates to Somalia, Congo, Libya and Ethiopia. It’s actually quite odd, I’ve seen more pagnes here than I have since leaving Niger; I keep meaning to ask if there’s a Turkish source for them.
I do wish that the government would allow the migrants to work legally, as I’d love to see some migrant-operated businesses in the area (especially restaurants -- Turkey has a dearth of ethnic food and I would absolutely love to find a place selling shinkafa da wake or fari masa, or serving up fresh cold glasses of byssop). I occasionally see a migrant or two working, clearly under the table, in one of the small tailoring factories that dot the neighborhood.
I do think I enjoy my current neighborhood more than I'd enjoy living in one of the "expat-heavy" areas -- Cihangir, for instance, although I do find myself walking around that neighborhood quite often. There's just something to be said for walking down the village-like streets of my neighborhood, where if everyone doesn't know my name, they do know who I am.
Tuesday, June 23, 2009
And now for something a little different
Hey folks (I hope this works, I'm updating via email as this wifi doesn't seem to want to let me access Blogger),
I'm settling in nicely here in Istanbul, and inshallah will write some mildly amusing posts on that as soon as I get internet in my flat (should be any day now...). Til then, here's a piece I'm working on in response to an article I edited for my new job; the original article can be found here: http://www.todayszaman.com/tz-web/detaylar.do?load=detay&link=178707&bolum=100
This isn't my usual blog fare, but I figured I couldn't very well post just the article with no commentary, so here goes:
I was somewhat bemused to read the recent headline "Judge sentences man to give flowers to his wife for 5 months," a bemusement which quickly faded when I read on to the article: a man in Diyarbakir beat his wife, and was sentenced to buy her a bouquet of flowers a week for five months after he told the judge he didn't know her birthday or their anniversary and had never bought her flowers. He justified the abuse by complaining that his wife wasn't helping out around the house enough, noting that his recently-married second wife was much more easy-going.
I almost don't know where to start here; I guess first would be the point that domestic abuse is never justified, and the excuse that his first wife "didn't help around the house enough" is nothing short of pathetic. But the background here is truly sad, for all involved but especially for the women. While I can't know for certain this exact situation, I imagine it was something like this: the man and wife's marriage was arranged by relatives, in a match that was set up because of the desirability of the families involved, or the bride price, or because they were of marriageable age. They may have known each other, but almost certainly would not have married each other if left to their own devices. After awhile, enough time for them to have a child, the man found a girl he was attracted to and actually wanted to marry. He lucked out, as her family was amenable to allowing her to be a second, not-legally-recognized wife (they probably were able to negotiate a higher bride price because of this). Most likely he didn't see a need to inform his first wife of his plans to take a second wife until perhaps as late as his wedding morning. As part of his second wife's bride price, he probably bought a new house for her to live in, which led the first wife to press for a new house for her and her child as well (this was mentioned in the article, as part of the man's justification for beating his wife). The man had probably spent any savings he had and took loans to finance his second wife's bride price, making him irritable on the subject of money, an irritation only exacerbated by the fact that he now had the wife he wanted, making the first wife almost superfluous. When the abuse started, the wife probably didn't think of going to authorities; recent studies have shown as many as 40% of Turkish wives have been hit by their husbands (I highly recommend reading through posts on the Kamil Pasha blog, on the sidebar, for background on the status of women in Turkey). The fact that she did go to police, and that there was enough evidence to find the man guilty, points to the likelihood of severe abuse.
The judge's sentence here, while it initially appears whimsical, serves to trivialize the issue of spousal abuse by advancing the notion that "everything will be solved if this man proves he cares about his wife by buying her flowers." The fact that the wife brought this case to court means that she does not feel safe in her living arrangement, and the husband's clear annoyance with his wife and her perceived 'unhelpfulness' is, if anything, a warning sign: there have been all too many recent cases of uxoricide in the Southeast, in many cases after the woman has sought help or the court has interfered. In all likelihood, this is one marriage that would be best served by a divorce: giving this woman freedom from her abusive life with this man, and paving the way for this man's second wife to legally marry him, which would afford her certain legal protections she currently lacks as the religiously-recognized second wife.
It should also be noted that the judge ordered this particular sentence in lieu of jail time or other probationary options; other judges recently have assigned men convicted of similar crimes to plant and care for trees, or in one case to print 1000 fliers apologizing to the man's wife and his neighborhood for beating his wife and distribute them throughout town. While this still doesn't do anything tangible to address the very real abuse, it at least doesn't trivialize the woman's experience like this flower sentence, and I suppose the fliers may serve to make the neighbors more ready to watch out for the woman and recognize signs of abuse.
Domestic abuse is a huge and largely not-talked-about issue in Turkey. Change is needed, at the judicial level and at the political level but most importantly at the social level. We need to figure out how to get from 40% of Turkish housewives reporting instances of abuse to 100% of Turkish spouses knowing that spousal abuse is never justified. Unfortunately, changing laws and changing judicial practices, while difficult, can be and have been done, whereas changing society's views is a formidable task indeed. Still, we owe it to ourselves and our communities to do our small part, so that women don't think they have no choice but to stay with an abusive spouse and so that men don't even consider beating their wives an option.
kib
-R
I'm settling in nicely here in Istanbul, and inshallah will write some mildly amusing posts on that as soon as I get internet in my flat (should be any day now...). Til then, here's a piece I'm working on in response to an article I edited for my new job; the original article can be found here: http://www.todayszaman.com/tz-web/detaylar.do?load=detay&link=178707&bolum=100
This isn't my usual blog fare, but I figured I couldn't very well post just the article with no commentary, so here goes:
I was somewhat bemused to read the recent headline "Judge sentences man to give flowers to his wife for 5 months," a bemusement which quickly faded when I read on to the article: a man in Diyarbakir beat his wife, and was sentenced to buy her a bouquet of flowers a week for five months after he told the judge he didn't know her birthday or their anniversary and had never bought her flowers. He justified the abuse by complaining that his wife wasn't helping out around the house enough, noting that his recently-married second wife was much more easy-going.
I almost don't know where to start here; I guess first would be the point that domestic abuse is never justified, and the excuse that his first wife "didn't help around the house enough" is nothing short of pathetic. But the background here is truly sad, for all involved but especially for the women. While I can't know for certain this exact situation, I imagine it was something like this: the man and wife's marriage was arranged by relatives, in a match that was set up because of the desirability of the families involved, or the bride price, or because they were of marriageable age. They may have known each other, but almost certainly would not have married each other if left to their own devices. After awhile, enough time for them to have a child, the man found a girl he was attracted to and actually wanted to marry. He lucked out, as her family was amenable to allowing her to be a second, not-legally-recognized wife (they probably were able to negotiate a higher bride price because of this). Most likely he didn't see a need to inform his first wife of his plans to take a second wife until perhaps as late as his wedding morning. As part of his second wife's bride price, he probably bought a new house for her to live in, which led the first wife to press for a new house for her and her child as well (this was mentioned in the article, as part of the man's justification for beating his wife). The man had probably spent any savings he had and took loans to finance his second wife's bride price, making him irritable on the subject of money, an irritation only exacerbated by the fact that he now had the wife he wanted, making the first wife almost superfluous. When the abuse started, the wife probably didn't think of going to authorities; recent studies have shown as many as 40% of Turkish wives have been hit by their husbands (I highly recommend reading through posts on the Kamil Pasha blog, on the sidebar, for background on the status of women in Turkey). The fact that she did go to police, and that there was enough evidence to find the man guilty, points to the likelihood of severe abuse.
The judge's sentence here, while it initially appears whimsical, serves to trivialize the issue of spousal abuse by advancing the notion that "everything will be solved if this man proves he cares about his wife by buying her flowers." The fact that the wife brought this case to court means that she does not feel safe in her living arrangement, and the husband's clear annoyance with his wife and her perceived 'unhelpfulness' is, if anything, a warning sign: there have been all too many recent cases of uxoricide in the Southeast, in many cases after the woman has sought help or the court has interfered. In all likelihood, this is one marriage that would be best served by a divorce: giving this woman freedom from her abusive life with this man, and paving the way for this man's second wife to legally marry him, which would afford her certain legal protections she currently lacks as the religiously-recognized second wife.
It should also be noted that the judge ordered this particular sentence in lieu of jail time or other probationary options; other judges recently have assigned men convicted of similar crimes to plant and care for trees, or in one case to print 1000 fliers apologizing to the man's wife and his neighborhood for beating his wife and distribute them throughout town. While this still doesn't do anything tangible to address the very real abuse, it at least doesn't trivialize the woman's experience like this flower sentence, and I suppose the fliers may serve to make the neighbors more ready to watch out for the woman and recognize signs of abuse.
Domestic abuse is a huge and largely not-talked-about issue in Turkey. Change is needed, at the judicial level and at the political level but most importantly at the social level. We need to figure out how to get from 40% of Turkish housewives reporting instances of abuse to 100% of Turkish spouses knowing that spousal abuse is never justified. Unfortunately, changing laws and changing judicial practices, while difficult, can be and have been done, whereas changing society's views is a formidable task indeed. Still, we owe it to ourselves and our communities to do our small part, so that women don't think they have no choice but to stay with an abusive spouse and so that men don't even consider beating their wives an option.
kib
-R
Saturday, June 06, 2009
Just a quick update
I'm back in Ankara with my mom, after meeting her in Istanbul and spending a few days there. Mom's been a real trooper, heading from mosque to bazaar to my new house and all over the Golden Horn, as well as out to Arnavutkoy and back in rush hour traffic.
I'll inshallah get more details and stories from our trip so far up soon, but I just wanted to leave you guys with a few pics from our days so far:
This is Mom with the US Ambassador to Turkey, James Jeffery. Aren't they adorable?
We were at his residence earlier tonight for a talk and dinner by the Ankara Friends of the American Research Institute in Turkey. The talk was really good, and we both learned a lot: it focused on the architectural and other achievements of women in Ottoman Turkey, primarily the Valide Sultanas (mothers of the sultans). We had a great time, Mom got to meet the Ambassador and his wife, who are both really nice people and who both just love Turkey. We had dinner with a few Turkish-American couples and a Brit, from a variety of fields, and had all in all a fully enjoyable evening!
My trip to Istanbul to pick up Mom had another purpose as well: find housing for my pending move to the city. Luckily, a friend of mine hooked me up with her professor, and I am now renting his house for the year. It's a serendipitous find. It's in the Kumkapi section of town, which is in the Golden Horn, about a block off the water. There are many fish restaurants in the neighborhood, so I guess I'll finally find out what all Turkish fish varieties taste like. The pic above is me in the doorway of my new house.
So Mom and I are walking down the street in Sultanahmet (Istanbul, the tourist area), and we pass a little boy strutting around in one of these outfits, out with his family. I lean in and to murmur that he's on his way to get circumcised. Mom was pretty shocked, mainly at the relatively late age of Muslim circumcision ceremonies (I believe around 8 is the normal age here). And thus followed a fun, occasionally awkward, and interesting discussion of Muslim circumcision tradition. We saw these for sale the next day and naturally took a photo; what you can't see is below the cape in front, where the shop is displaying some sort of cup/protector, which kind of goes against the whole point there.
So there's a brief and incomplete snapshot of my 3.5 days showing Mom how awesome this country is. It's been great! Much more to come.
kendine iyi bak,
-R
I'll inshallah get more details and stories from our trip so far up soon, but I just wanted to leave you guys with a few pics from our days so far:
This is Mom with the US Ambassador to Turkey, James Jeffery. Aren't they adorable?
We were at his residence earlier tonight for a talk and dinner by the Ankara Friends of the American Research Institute in Turkey. The talk was really good, and we both learned a lot: it focused on the architectural and other achievements of women in Ottoman Turkey, primarily the Valide Sultanas (mothers of the sultans). We had a great time, Mom got to meet the Ambassador and his wife, who are both really nice people and who both just love Turkey. We had dinner with a few Turkish-American couples and a Brit, from a variety of fields, and had all in all a fully enjoyable evening!
My trip to Istanbul to pick up Mom had another purpose as well: find housing for my pending move to the city. Luckily, a friend of mine hooked me up with her professor, and I am now renting his house for the year. It's a serendipitous find. It's in the Kumkapi section of town, which is in the Golden Horn, about a block off the water. There are many fish restaurants in the neighborhood, so I guess I'll finally find out what all Turkish fish varieties taste like. The pic above is me in the doorway of my new house.
So Mom and I are walking down the street in Sultanahmet (Istanbul, the tourist area), and we pass a little boy strutting around in one of these outfits, out with his family. I lean in and to murmur that he's on his way to get circumcised. Mom was pretty shocked, mainly at the relatively late age of Muslim circumcision ceremonies (I believe around 8 is the normal age here). And thus followed a fun, occasionally awkward, and interesting discussion of Muslim circumcision tradition. We saw these for sale the next day and naturally took a photo; what you can't see is below the cape in front, where the shop is displaying some sort of cup/protector, which kind of goes against the whole point there.
So there's a brief and incomplete snapshot of my 3.5 days showing Mom how awesome this country is. It's been great! Much more to come.
kendine iyi bak,
-R
Saturday, May 30, 2009
Big news for my 100th post
I said I'd try to find something good for my centenary post, and it appears I have. Several of my readers have been asking what exactly I'm doing once my Fulbright grant is finished (especially those of you related to me, hi folks!), and my response has generally been a measured account of options I've been exploring.
Well no more: as of yesterday, I have gainful post-Fulbright employment, and in a development that will be good news for this ostensibly-a-travelblog blog, I'll be staying in Turkey!
I will be moving though, and fast. Next week I head to Istanbul to meet up with my mom, who's coming to Turkey for the first time to see Istanbul, Ankara, and me. After a full week of travel, sightseeing, and packing I'll see Mom off to the airport, turn around, and start studying for the foreign service exam, which I take the next day.
The day after I take the foreign service exam, I'll be shipping out to Istanbul, hopefully with all my stuff, although I'm not actually sure how this operation is going to happen. That weekend will be a maelstrom of unpacking, setting up house, and getting ready to start work that Sunday or Monday. Before I unpack though, I need to find an apartment, which at the moment I do not have.
So I'm two weeks out from starting. The job itself sounds really fun and challenging: I'll be copy-editing for an English-language newspaper here, turning questionable prose into beautifully clear articles. Since I'm a stickler for grammar, spelling, and good writing, and have spent the last year learning the ins and outs of the Turkish political system pretty intricately, I think it'll be a good fit.
In the meantime though, I'm commencing a blizzard of activity: packing up everything, getting rid of as much as possible, finding a new flat, getting my current flat ready for the realtor, settling my finances, physically moving all my belongings to Istanbul (this would be so much easier if I had a car), and somehow, between all that and showing my mom how awesome this country is, tracking down all my Ankaralilar to say goodbye. Luckily as I'm still going to be in the country, and in the largest city at that, it should be easier to still meet up with Ankaralilar.
Also easier, oh ye who have not yet visited but who should come see Turkey/me, will be visiting: my new job is 2 Metro stops from Ataturk International Airport, and flights into Istanbul are ludicrous amounts cheaper than flights to Ankara (and you get to skip the 6 hour Istanbul-Ankara busride, too--bonus). So once I have a legit place to live, visits are highly encouraged.
I'm pretty excited about all this, even though it will be a loooong few days getting all the details of my move organized. I'm taking a break from playing The Weakest Link with my wardrobe tonight to go see the last football match of the season, Genclerbirligi versus Kayserispor. It should be a good game, and I'll be in a pretty celebratory mood.
Side note, I'm soliciting ideas for a new blog title; I can't exactly write on Ankarali life when I'm living in Istanbul maalesef. Ideas?
kib,
-R
Well no more: as of yesterday, I have gainful post-Fulbright employment, and in a development that will be good news for this ostensibly-a-travelblog blog, I'll be staying in Turkey!
I will be moving though, and fast. Next week I head to Istanbul to meet up with my mom, who's coming to Turkey for the first time to see Istanbul, Ankara, and me. After a full week of travel, sightseeing, and packing I'll see Mom off to the airport, turn around, and start studying for the foreign service exam, which I take the next day.
The day after I take the foreign service exam, I'll be shipping out to Istanbul, hopefully with all my stuff, although I'm not actually sure how this operation is going to happen. That weekend will be a maelstrom of unpacking, setting up house, and getting ready to start work that Sunday or Monday. Before I unpack though, I need to find an apartment, which at the moment I do not have.
So I'm two weeks out from starting. The job itself sounds really fun and challenging: I'll be copy-editing for an English-language newspaper here, turning questionable prose into beautifully clear articles. Since I'm a stickler for grammar, spelling, and good writing, and have spent the last year learning the ins and outs of the Turkish political system pretty intricately, I think it'll be a good fit.
In the meantime though, I'm commencing a blizzard of activity: packing up everything, getting rid of as much as possible, finding a new flat, getting my current flat ready for the realtor, settling my finances, physically moving all my belongings to Istanbul (this would be so much easier if I had a car), and somehow, between all that and showing my mom how awesome this country is, tracking down all my Ankaralilar to say goodbye. Luckily as I'm still going to be in the country, and in the largest city at that, it should be easier to still meet up with Ankaralilar.
Also easier, oh ye who have not yet visited but who should come see Turkey/me, will be visiting: my new job is 2 Metro stops from Ataturk International Airport, and flights into Istanbul are ludicrous amounts cheaper than flights to Ankara (and you get to skip the 6 hour Istanbul-Ankara busride, too--bonus). So once I have a legit place to live, visits are highly encouraged.
I'm pretty excited about all this, even though it will be a loooong few days getting all the details of my move organized. I'm taking a break from playing The Weakest Link with my wardrobe tonight to go see the last football match of the season, Genclerbirligi versus Kayserispor. It should be a good game, and I'll be in a pretty celebratory mood.
Side note, I'm soliciting ideas for a new blog title; I can't exactly write on Ankarali life when I'm living in Istanbul maalesef. Ideas?
kib,
-R
Saturday, May 23, 2009
Tekirova Pics, and This Week in Ankara
These giant fish greeted us at our last group dinner, Saturday night. Fittingly, it was a seafood banquet.
6 of us braved "The Banana". I'm third from the front.
We missed the oil wrestling championships by just a week. Maalesef! I've still never seen oil wrestling or camel wrestling, so clearly my time in Turkey is not finished quite yet.
George powers up at the Antalya otogar on the long journey home. We were all a little worn out on Sunday.
This week though has been full as always; I had lunch on Youth and Sport Day (Tuesday) with a few assorted Fulbrighters and a Harvard PhD student newly arrived at ARIT. We went back to Spice, for their lunch special, which was well worth it. Afterward we took a group trip to Migros, and then split up. I walked back to my flat, and then on through town, as it was 80 degrees and beautiful. Of course Wednesday dawned chilly and rainy, but that worked well for me as I cloistered myself in my flat to work out what exactly I'm doing this summer. I think I've figured it out, but we'll see how all the pieces move.
Today I met up with the sister of a good friend of mine from Minnesota, who's been living in Ankara as an exchange student. It was nice to finally meet her, and to exchange thoughts on Ankara, Minnesota, and even Boston. It's odd how 2 people can have such a different experience in Turkey (in Ankara, at that), but I suppose it makes sense, as she's been living with a host family and going to high school here, whereas I've been living in my flat and researching. Still, our social circles apparently overlap: I go to football matches with her English teacher. Ankara's a small world.
Well, more will have to wait for later. Side note, this is my 99th blog post. I'll try and think of something suitably exciting for the 100th.
kib,
-R
Also: For those with access to Turkish television (or incredibly good American satellite packages), my cooking show will be aired June 15, at 12:10 and 13:40 EET on TRT Int. I don't actually have TRT International, so I'll be trying to figure out something to see my cooking show glory. Inshallah.
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