Canadian Abroad

 Most of the time I love travelling as a Canadian.  We are generally well liked around the world, have a good reputation for being kind and polite, and enjoy living up to these expectations.  There are times, however when it is a righteous pain in the ass.  Those times include moments when I meet a Canadian who I don’t feel are giving us a good name abroad (like my ex-coworker from the Japanese school), or when I find that I don’t want to live up to these expectations.  This new guy is testing my patience.  We got that he was a little odd right from the beginning- that was obvious, but we have lived with odd, oblivious people before, so that’s not the end of the world.  He seemed okay, a bit absent-minded, but we showed him around a bit, and wrote him a note on how to get into town, we got him a bottle of wine, and managed to chat with him a bit that night.  The next day he was frantically trying to find a Western Union, as his wallet had been stolen in Manchester and he had no cash, but instead of asking he disappeared.  By the time we found him one, it turned out he needed a MoneyGram, so Joe and I located one, but by then, he had once again disappeared.  We were supposed to meet Eser at the pub, and so I went ahead, and Joe waited at the school for half an hour.  When he didn’t show, we got Isilay to call us when he arrived and Joe came along.  We found him an hour or so later, and he came around to the pub and we had a good time.

              

Some of the appetizers- already overflowing the table before the main meal arrived

               The next day the garbage was overflowing and there was watermelon juice all over the floor.  I was pissed, but I cleaned it up, figuring I would give him a day or two to settle in.  The next day, three of our four plates were missing- two in his room, one with his leftover dinner on it, and more watermelon juice all over the floor.  Seething, I went for work, leaving Joe to deal with it.  He spoke to him, asked him to be more careful with the watermelon, and he apologized profusely (I genuinely don’t think he knew he left juice all over the floor) and ‘mopped’ a section of the floor, leaving the mop in the middle of the floor and the rest of the kitchen untouched.  The floor was still sticky, but I had been planning to clean that day anyways, so I let it go.  He had gone out by then, and I cleaned and Joe and I hung out. Just before we went to get dinner, I looked in the bathroom, and there was brown stuff all over  the floor and the sink.  All over.  It took me a minute to clue into what it was, but eventually I realized it was hair dye.  So, resigned slightly to the fact that we are living with the most obtuse individual I have ever had the misfortune to meet, I knocked and asked him if he had dyed his hair.  He answered, yes, why, to which I retorted that there was hair dye all over the bathroom.  He cleaned up most of it (although I think he used the kitchen sponge to do it) and not wanting to knock AGAIN, I let it go. I am trying to maintain my Canadian composure but he is wearing me down thin and at some point that politeness may deplete pretty rapidly if he doesn’t learn how to think.

a delicious Turkish coffee out with friends.

              

           In other Malatya news, not much is happening.  I had a lovely ‘iftar’ (evening break-fast) with the girls from work, and even though I had been eating and drinking normally all day, watching people who haven’t drank all day, sit there with twenty minutes to go and a glass of water in front of them, makes you very thirsty.  According to most people, it’s the most difficult part of the day.  The food was delicious though, and the company a lot of fun, and all in all it was a good day out.  Buglem also seems to be quite aggravated over the fasting.  I don’t know if perhaps the adults in her life are a little shorter-tempered with her, or if she just doesn’t understand why people aren’t eating, but she has been having a daily meltdown the past couple of weeks- which is not a lot of fun for me, and I can’t imagine it is a lot of fun for Kubra either.  I am hoping she will be ok, as we are starting week 3 tomorrow, but I’m not counting on it.

Some of us girls out for dinner.

On a happy Canada Day note, I leave you with my final Canadian story of the week.  One of my students has been trying to add me on facebook, but as she is twelve, I don’t feel that is appropriate.  She seemed to understand, but continues to message me daily.  Yesterday she messaged me, “Can I you a question?”  I answered, “Yes, of course.”  “Where are you from?” She inquired.  “Canada,” I responded. “That’s my favourite city or country.” She responded.  I didn’t respond to her, as I laughed to myself, pleased she couldn’t see me laugh.  It was a sweet answer as she clearly has no idea where Canada is or what Canada is, but it was sweet none the less.