A Presidential Visit

         Spring is in the air!  Or, it was.  Last week the weather became sunny and crisp, with that nip in the air and the smell of freshness everywhere.  It was invigorating.  I began my spring cleaning (scrubbing my floors, etc.) when spring betrayed me, only a false alarm.  Winter returned, with below freezing temperatures and snow to boot!  Apparently this is a good thing, as summer tends to get quite hot here and the longer the winter lasts, the more bearable it is, but to be honest, I was ready for a change of season.

Fresh snow on the mountains

                One of these snowfalls occurred last night as I was getting ready for my class.  Although giant posters had been up all over town, and I knew some event was occurring, I was unsure of what it was until my students informed me that the President of Turkey (Erdogan) was to give a speech in Malatya the following day.  Now, although I do not know much about Erdogan, I know enough to know that we would not be friends and that he is a power hungry man who is trying to change the Turkish parliamentary system to give him more powers.  That attached to his views on women and the fact that he imprisoned a 16 year old for criticizing him, makes me feel like I have enough information not to think he is a fantastic leader, but alas.  

           The snow was still falling as I left work and headed to the bus stop.  The problem was that that were in the process of setting up for the President’s speech, so my bus was taking a different route and I didn’t know where that was.  This meant that I ended up walking 3km out of the city centre to where I figured the bus would stop.  Normally I don’t mind walking three kilometers, but at the end of the day, in snow, negative temperatures and heeled boots (which I would not have worn had I known I would be walking) it is not my idea of a good time.  I finally made it to the bus stop just as the President’s motorcade was coming in from the airport, meaning they shut the road for a good twenty minutes so he could get through, and again, waiting in the cold and snow (without my toque which I had forgotten) was not ideal.  It ended up taking me an hour and a half to get home, and I took off my boots in the elevator and walked in my socks to the apartment.

                The next day, I had a rough idea of where the bus would go, but left a little early just in case, and ended up behind the big mosque in the centre, instead of in front of it, but that wasn’t too bad.  Even though it was early, the city was a buzz in preparations, red and white balloons, and giant banners of Erdogan were everywhere.  I made it through my first four classes before the celebrations got under way, and then ran upstairs to the balcony to watch (snipers on the roof tops) as an old folk song that had been redone to chant his name blasted throughout the city (the whole thing felt very cult-ish) and watched as the President began his speech before my next class started. 

Snipers on the roof!

Giant banners adorned the streets.

                This following a week of protests after a young university student was murdered on her way home from school in Mersin (she was brutally attacked on a mini bus after fending off her rapist with pepper spray) has made for an interesting week of street viewing in Malatya.

Doctors and Beers

                Tuesday chalks up to one of the strangest days I have ever experienced whilst living overseas.  It all began a couple of Thursdays ago when I noticed a painfully sore throat emerging on my way home from visiting Buglem.  I brushed it off, took some medicine and went to bed.  However the sore throat quickly developed into a chest tightness, and hacking up (I wouldn't say coughing because it wasn't a consistent thing) disgusting coloured mucus from deep in my throat/lungs are somewhere of the like.  I managed to brave the pharmacy to pick up some medicinal cough drops (which you can only buy from pharmacies here, which is a titch annoying as they are closed on the weekend) and heating up raki (to numb the throat pain, and quite possibly kill all the bacteria living there- that stuff is potent) however with the pain keeping me awake at night, and more rusty blood coloured stuff starting to appear with my hacking, I decided to swallow my pride and ask someone to take me to the doctor.

              

             The second weekend of a lack of sleep found me asking Onder about the medical plan to see how much money this outing would cost me.  It turns out that since our papers are still being processed (another rant for another day) the school was going to have to front the bill (an added bonus after the unforeseen addition of the winter heating bills the school is making us pay despite the fact that it is not written in the contract- again, another rant) which quite pleased me.  He told me to go and then bring them the bill.  Now Onder is a bit clueless, so I gently reminded him that while I have made significant advances with my Turkish, navigating a doctor’s office and knowing the word for ‘phlegm’ and such are not yet in my vernacular.  To which (after his unnecessary display of surprise) he said that either he, Yasar or Gungor would take me. 

              

              I had a guess that Gungor would be the one slotted for this duty (as one is a bit awkward and the other has a tendency to be an ass) and so I was not surprised when I got a message saying that Gungor would pick me up at 3:30pm on Tuesday and take me to the **hospital (don’t worry- Turkish people always go to the hospital for everything.  It sounds serious but is the equivalent of a mere doctor’s visit)  Anyways, he picked me up and said we had two options- we could go to his family doctor (and a friend of his) or we could go to the big hospital, although that would take longer. Since I was already feeling guilty about taking up his afternoon we went to see his family doctor (who is located a stone’s throw from my house- I didn't even know there was a doctor’s office there).  We went in and made small talk, Gungor translated my symptoms for me, she checked my throat and my lungs and determined that my throat was infected but because of the blood, she wanted to send me to the specialist, so (apologizing profusely for the inconvenience) we headed to the hospital.

               

            Now Malatya is full of hospitals (seriously a ridiculous amount of hospitals) both public and private- but Gungor knows someone who works in admissions at the new big one, so off we went.  We met his friend and chatted with him and his wife (naturally) and then this man ferried us around the hospital (which was good because it was big) to this desk, and that desk until we found where we were going.  We finally registered me (which I have a feeling went most faster than it should have due to our guide) and then they stuck a needle in my arm to take blood (routine), but what was odd was that after they finished the blood test, they left the needle taped in my arm- in case they needed to do more later (spoiler alert: they didn't) and then sent me for a lung x-ray (again- spoiler alert: everything was normal) and then sent us away for two hours (still with a needle in my arm).  Gungor asked what I wanted to do, and jokingly, I suggested the pub, and then in all seriousness I said he could go home, and I would stay and read.  It was already getting quite late and I was feeling guilty.  He shrugged off both of my suggestions and instead called one of his friends.

               

             Gungor’s favourite way of drinking is to have a friend drive slowly around Malatya and the surrounding villages while he drinks.  On this particular outing, I tagged along.  (Joe was very jealous he didn't come to the hospital with me.)  We picked up his friend and some beers (at first I was supposed to only be allowed one, but after the first one he caved and gave me more) and we laughed and talked from books to religion to travel, driving 40km/hr around the city for two hours.  Two hours later (a little drunk) we headed back to the hospital to get the results- and if there is ever a way to not worry about test results it is to drink a few beers while you are waiting- and found the doctor to take the needle out of my arm.  Since everything was normal except for my raw throat, they told me I had a throat infection, and would need some antibiotics.  Gungor bought be a ‘celebratory beer’, which I gave most of to Joe in exchange for him cooking me an egg sandwich.  All in all an interesting outing- unfortunately there is no photographic evidence of this strange day, but alas.   All’s well that ends well.

A Rare Dinner Party

             There have been precious few times in the past couple of months where I have wished that Joe and I had working cell phones.  Usually the internet is sufficient enough that online communication is simple and as there are no dire circumstances that arise, imminent communication is rarely an issue.  However, Saturday night was one of those nights where a working cell phone would have come in extremely handy.

               

            Last week at coffee, we got to talking about English TV shows, and Mustafa was saying that he had a desire to watch the Wire. Since it is complete on my harddrive- along with a plethora of other English movies and shows- we offered to have him over and he could take whatever he wanted.  Since his wife works and he has to be around when his daughter gets home, he said that it would be easier if we came by his house.  I messaged him on Saturday morning and said we would stop by after we had eaten if that fit his schedule.  He vehemently protested this saying that we would eat at his house (it’s much easier to cave sometimes) and so I agreed.  I made it home after a long day, had a quick shower and then tried to finalize our plans, as there had been a slight miscommunication about what time Joe finished work and what time we were supposed to be at his house.  While I quickly downed a beer (which thank God was in the fridge) and messaged back and forth between Joe and Mustafa, our internet decided to crash.  This as I was waiting for a response from Joe and trying to get back to Mustafa, stressing me out and making me even more grateful for the aforementioned beer.  I managed to reset it, sent Joe a frantic message telling me to meet him at Mustafa’s (praying he would get it in time) and set out (leaving a note on the door just in case).  The lahmajun place closed at 7pm, and I only had a hunch as to what time Joe should be arriving in front of the building.  After saying a quick hello to his wife and daughter, and discussing how best to figure everything out, we decided that I would go wait at the bus stop and hope Joe saw me, and that Mustafa would go to the lahmajun place, and hopefully everything would work out.  To put an extremely stressful twenty minutes to an anticlimactic finish, Joe spotted me at the bus station, Mustafa got the food before it closed and we were happily warm inside his house not long after.    

              

             Joe had a pillow/toque fight with Mustafa’s seven year old daughter (her shrieking with laughter) and Mustafa and I occasionally taking part, while his wife got dinner together in the kitchen.  It feels very awkward not to help, and is a cultural norm I am definitely not used to yet.  We sat down to a delicious dinner and then after Sibel cleaned up (again I was not allowed to help and my Turkish is not good enough to insist) and a disgusting dessert of rice pudding (Turkish style) which I ate all of to be polite, we sat down to tea and Joe and I taught them how to play Yahtzee.  It was more difficult to explain than we would have imagined, but Mustafa tends to over-complicate things and they were sort of getting it by the end of the second game.  We spent the following hour telling Mustafa which shows to download, and watching clips of his favourite films (a process which was drawn out considerably longer than I would have liked) before heading home to bed in anticipation of another long day (for me at least) on Sunday.