Spring is in the Air!

Spring has finally arrived in Malatya.  It took considerably longer to arrive than I had originally anticipated- with some late winter winds and snow impeding the few teasingly warm days we had, but all in all it was worth the wait.  During those bleak days I kept telling myself that I would miss the cold when summer kicked in with blisteringly hot days, no air conditioning and a serious lack of rain, but selfishly I was ready for some warm weather and felt that by the end of April, it was time.  With spring, the flowers have finally blossomed and the perfumed air is delectable as I move my exercise regime into the great outdoors, wandering the cliffs that overlook the side of the house and I am finally glad that we live outside the city as it allows more opportunity to explore.

It's finally green again!

A few firsts have come along with the warmth: my students invited me to join Islam, which was a mildly amusing experience that I hope doesn’t happen again, because it turns out it is a little tricky to politely decline such an invitation with a limited use of my vocabulary, but I did the best I could.  Friday night was also the first time that we have invited people into our house- a couple of my students (Eser and Ilker) drove me home after class and so we picked up some beers and invited them in.  They agreed, but Ilker’s socks had holes in them, which I guess he was embarrassed about, so he bought new socks along with the beer and we stopped at a gas station under the guise of him needing cigarettes so he could change them, and although it was sweet, I teased him for it as neither Joe nor I would have noticed or cared that his socks had holes in them, but I guess falls under disgraceful behaviour in Turkey.  It was a little awkward (as is normal) until the first beer had been drunk, but after that was a lot of fun.  

On Saturday after class I walked up to the mall to meet one of my students and her friend for lunch, running into a bunch of my other students and reaffirming the reason I do not go to the mall on the weekends.  It passed pleasantly enough with a few strange moments, when my student told me that her fiancé will not allow her to have any form of social media (which I find alarming) and that her friend is married to “her uncle’s son” or her first cousin.  Again it is tricky to find a polite answer to “Is this normal in Canada?” when the answer is blatantly ‘no’ but again I did the best I could.

Dance dance

              I headed back into town to wait for Joe to finish work as we were heading to an African student union party that night.  We managed to find the café and rows of people sitting awkwardly as Turkish music blasted so loudly it was impossible to have a conversation, but we found Malik (Joe’s friend from the Gambia) and Seb (his Turkish friend) and joined their table.  Seb was a little intense, but his wife was friendly enough (despite the fact that it was too loud to speak).  Eventually they turned off the Turkish music and the African music (not sure which country specifically- they seemed to be from all over) started.  It fulfilled every stereotype I have about African culture as all the African students began to dance.  And they didn’t stop.  For the couple of hours that we were there it was constant dancing.  Eventually the non-Africans got over there awe and stopped watching and joined them (myself and Joe included- a rarity when there is no alcohol around).  We stuck around until about 9, and then called it a day after a long social weekend.

Quality Time in Cappadocia: Part 2

4 am rang in far earlier than anyone would have liked, but alas, the things we must do.  We bundled in our warmest clothes and made the short walk to the hotel down the street for our pick up.  We headed to the waiting place for the most pathetic buffet breakfast I have ever seen (buns and instant coffee) and then we waited.  For three hours.  To have it cancelled.  In truth, we had all known that this was a distinct possibility, as the winds had been quite strong and they had been cancelling flights all week, so although it is disappointing to be within arm’s reach of a once in a lifetime opportunity and have the winds snatch it away, it was expected and didn’t mar the trip in any way.  We headed ‘home’, napped and then Dad, Jason and I went to scout out a lunch place where we could celebrate Mom and pick up some beer, before gathering the others, going for a lovely walk through town and then down to the river for a lovely late lunch.

The view from lunch

We all took another rest when we got back, agreeing to meet for “cocktails” at 4pm (beer and nuts) and a fantastically fun new game called “Heads Up”.  We took a break for dinner (which Emily and Mom lovingly whipped up), and then slowly began winding down for the night.

Our last full day began with Emily, Jason, Joe and I heading to Derinkuyu, one of the underground cities that are scattered throughout the region.  It was an impressive place, fully stocked with a stable, graves, a baptismal pool and big boulders to push into passage ways to ward off attacks.  Apparently people could live there for up to six months at a time if the need arose, and although they were spacious, six months seems an awfully long time to go without seeing any daylight.

We met M and D in Urgup just before noon and wandered the town before our last lunch overlooking the town square.  It’s a pretty little town- probably my favourite of the three we visited as it seems to have more character, and then the boys headed home and us girls went in search of a Haman or Turkish Bath, since we felt Mom had not had the pampering worth her due what with the cancelled balloon ride.  However, the one in Urgup was not to our liking, so we caught the mini-bus back to Avanos (we were tired of making Jason have to shuttle) and after some asking around, found one more to our tastes.  Our Hamam offered a mud face mask, sauna, various scrubs and a Jacuzzi, and although it was a little different from the one I had in Antalya, it was equally as enjoyable and a fun experience to share with M and E.  Feeling thoroughly relaxed, we picked up some veggies and met the boys (who had apparently spent their afternoon playing checkers- I think we got the better end of the deal) for our typical evening activities.

The next morning, the others set off for Kayseri to catch their flight and Joe and I waited for the owner to come and collect the keys.  He kindly dropped us off at the bus station in Avanos so that we could get to Kayseri (amidst a backdrop of snow) and then kill many an hour at the bus station in Kayseri.  We killed some time by walking over to the mall and having coffee and lunch, before heading back through the rolling hills to spring snows (a most unpleasant surprise) that were awaiting us in Malatya.

Quality Time in Cappadocia: Part 1

Joe and I awoke bright and early to finish cleaning (well- I finished cleaning, but I am more particular to the return to a clean house than he is), finished the remnants of the fridge, got ourselves organized and headed to the bus station.  We arrived with a half an hour to spare, stowed our bags on the bus and went for a walk to wait.  Luckily Mom had brought me some crossword puzzles from home and they helped kill the time quite nicely (more than once this trip).  The first couple hours of the journey were lovely, although the last few dragged a bit, but all in all we made it to Kayseri (our first stop) in good time, and called Jason- as he had the token phone for the journey- to inform them we were approaching our final bus leg.  After asking three different people where to catch a bus to Goreme- and being sent in three different directions- we finally managed to find a mini-bus to Urgup (close to Goreme) that was leaving in ten minutes, so we hopped on. This bus wasn’t nearly as pleasant, but we made it in good spirits, and after a couple of quick calls, located Emily and Jason (who were picking us up in the rental car to take us to the house in Avanos), picked up some beer and headed to the house to meet up with the rest of the clan. 

The walk to the Open Air Museum

The accommodation Mom and Emily had picked far exceeded my expectations.  It was in a fantastic location, spacious and rustic with a very authentic Cappadocian feeling to it.  We drank beer and played a couple games before heading out to dinner at a lovely local restaurant, followed by grocery shopping for breakfast the next morning and an early-ish night.

I surprised myself by being the first person out of bed, so I tidied the beer bottles and put the kettle on for coffee as the rest of the family slowly roused.  I cooked eggs for everyone as we got ready in shifts (the frying pan couldn’t accommodate everyone at once) and we shuttled our way out the door in shifts, courtesy of Jason and our handy Ford Fiesta.  Jason drove in group the fifteen minutes to Goreme, and when we all arrived, we walked the winding road about a kilometre to get to the Open Air Museum.  We paid 20TL to get in and wandered around the beautiful cave houses and churches (some still with skeletons in them) in the blustering winds, posing for many a  photo. 

Once we had finished, we headed to the fairy chimneys and open fields across the way and spent a lovely hour frolicking through the fields and up the chimneys.  In some ways it was more fun than the actual museum, as we were the only ones there, and I can easily see how just walking through the chimneys could take up your whole vacation.

By this time, however, the winds were really zipping along, and the cold was setting in, so we decided to head back into the town to find lunch.  The ambiance was so-so, the service not so good, but the price was right and the food was good, but still cold, we headed for a coffee shop and a little perusing of the tourist stalls before heading out.  We left in shifts again, and headed for more fairy chimneys on the way back to Avanos, with an hour or so spent climbing rock stacks and taking more photos.  We spent the evening in with games and food and beer, and in anticipation of our early balloon ride the next morning, we went to bed early.

Social Outings

                By the time M and D left, it was quite early so I crashed on the couch for a few hours before Joe and I had to head in to the police station to pick up our visas (which are only valid until the end of April so I don’t know what good that is supposed to do or why we had to pick them up in the first place) and then we came back home and did absolutely nothing.  We needed some down time, so he read in the living room and I watched TV and dozed for hours.  We only moved because we had promised to meet Eser at the pub that night, and since we bailed on him the week before, we figured it would be bad form to do it two weeks in a row.  Knowing it would be an enjoyable evening- but still moaning about moving- we made our way into town on an uncomfortably crowded bus (the buses are always crowded here) and he joined us not long after.  We laughed and talked and drank- typical things one does at a pub- and then he drove us home, fairly early-ish as both Joe and I work full days on the weekend. 

               

           By the time I got home from work on Saturday, I had to begin editing a paper that my boss had given me (an academic paper on reading skills) that his friend had wrote.  I had eagerly agreed to it, but as I started my task, I quickly realized that this was not going to be an enjoyable way to pass the time; especially as I wasn’t being compensated.  I didn’t even edit my own papers in university (much to my occasional detriment) and here I was editing a non-native speaker who was arguing that reading is the most important part of language learning- a premise I whole-heartedly disagree with, combined with severe grammar mistakes.  It took me a good four hours spread out over three days before I finished it.  When my boss asked me how it was, I had to bite my tongue, instead using the adjective, “Ok” as opposed to “abysmal”- the word I honestly had in mind.

               

One of the 14 pages I had to edit.

            The man for whom I edited was quite lovely; buying me a giant box of chocolates for my trouble- I shared it with my classes that evening much to their surprise.  On Wednesday we arranged to have lunch with Habib and Dogan upstairs (they were a little miffed that it hadn’t worked out to have had lunch with M and D were here) and then met Mustafa for coffee.  Mustafa is one of the most intense people I have ever met, and this discussion focused around conspiracy theories (The US government was responsible for 9/11; this recent Luftansa plane came down due to technical errors and they are just blaming the pilot; and I can’t remember the others) and politics as both the UK and Turkey have upcoming elections.  Both fascinating conversations, but by the time we left to go to class, it was time for something lighthearted.

                

My chocolate reward.

            The next day I awoke early to do some house cleaning (Joe had kindly rolled the carpets up for me the night before) as this house collects dust at a rate I did not know was possible.  Even dry season in Jakarta did not have this much dust, and I am at a loss as to where it is coming from.  Anyways, I managed to coerce Joe into helping me with the floors (he had planned to do them the next day) by saying then we could both relax on Friday, and then he headed to work and I went for coffee with Elif in a rare occasion of her not bailing on me.  She was late, as I knew she would be but as I am used to her tardiness it didn’t bother me.  We went to a new café and drank tea and played backgammon (I trounced her) and I realized that backgammon is the beer of non-drinkers- it allows you to spend time with someone you like but don’t have much in common with: in other words, it breaks the ice.  I headed to Buglem’s that afternoon, and as Kubra and Ali are still away (they are attending a course of some sort) it is just me, Buglem and the grandparents.  Buglem is getting better with her English, asking me questions without me prompting her, and we are working on “5 Little Monkeys” (which M and D graciously brought out for me) and “Rock-A-Bye-Baby” (she likes the actions).  The one problem is that Grandma is now bringing me food- and she brings much bigger portions that Kubra (and to be fair, she is a much better cook that Kubra) but still.  Then she sits beside me and says “Ye” (Eat), pointing to her breasts and girth (which are considerable) and essentially saying I need to have breasts that sag to my knees.  I want to say that she can fatten up her own daughter (who is a stick) but when I politely try and decline finishing, she sternly says, “Ye” again, and I hide a grimace and finish it.  In a way it is very sweet, as is the grandfather who insists upon walking me to the bus stop (even though it is light outside now) and waits with me until it arrives.  Neither of us say a word during these strolls but it is pleasant none the less.

Not quite sure what this one was, but it tasted pretty good.

The end of the week finished off typically, running errands for our upcoming holiday (we leave Monday), going to the gym, finishing my cleaning, packing and of course the weekends at Bil-Cag.  As an added bonus my first class on Sunday was cancelled (although I barely found out about it) and so here I sit on a beautiful crisp sunny Easter morning (ah yes, a very Happy Easter to all those who actually get to enjoy it) drinking my coffee and looking forward to a holiday. 

Tourist in Your Own City

Of course the rain pissed down and the winds howled on the one day I had to head out after work.  I went for a walk (getting mildly wet) to find the airport bus and journey to pick up my parents.  I found it without too much effort (Ishilay had called ahead), read my book and enjoyed the rolling scenery (amidst the rain stained windows) for the forty minute ride.  Naturally I forgot my scarf and hat (and it was cold) so I went for a cup of tea to warm up as there is nowhere indoors to wait for incoming flights.  Fortunately their plane was smack dab on time, and as Malatya is not a large airport, the luggage wait was quite prompt as well.  I whisked them back onto the bus and we headed home.  The rain quieted a bit as we walked up to our apartment, and I got them settled and with a glass of wine as I cooked dinner (Turkish manti- very similar to ravioli) and we waited for Joe to get home.

              

Last winter snow (we hope)

           The next morning we awoke to falling snow and many inches of it already sticking to the ground. Dad had managed to pinch a muscle in his back at some point the day before, and as Joe and I were working it gave him the opportunity to ice and rest it without feeling obligated to go outside.  We forwent our outing to the pub that evening and instead I came home when my classes finished and Mom and I went for a walk around the neighbourhood before coming in and making soup.  Joe joined us after work, and we played a game of Yahtzee and called it a night.

               

         By Monday morning, Dad was still in same pain (back pain is the worst) but the weather was sunny- a stark contrast to the day before, so we took the bus into town and went for a beautiful walk (albeit a little slower than usual) and down to the market before heading up to a restaurant on the hill that has a stunning view of the city. 

          
           By that point Dad’s back had had enough so I went off to Buglem (my standing Monday tradition) and met them back home by about 7.  I refreshed Mom’s backgammon knowledge and we had a relaxing evening.  Joe came home with a “walking stick” (you know the time, skinny, with a curved handle- rhymes with bane,) which we all got a good laugh out of- but it did make a difference as he healed, and good news.  There is a doctor is his speaking class and he wrote Dad a prescription for a muscle relaxant that would cut off the pain receptors and allow him to heal much faster and so on Tuesday we did just that.  Back into Malatya- armed with the walking stick- and found a pharmacist who spoke good English.  The only downside was that he couldn’t drink alcohol on this medicine, so after a stroll through the market and lunch, we headed for afternoon beers.  Needless to say I was a little tired at work, but the others came home and relaxed.

               

View of Malatya

Relaxing at the Pub

            On Wednesday morning the weather was miserable again, so Mom and I gave the boys a break and went to the mall for some shopping.  Mom found a cute top, but I have expensive taste and no “spare” money, so I did not fare as well.  By the time the boys came in, the power was out so Dad got to walk down eleven flights of stairs (our apartment is on the top floor) in order to get to the bus.  We met them in town and took them for a tour of our school, including coffee with Habib.  Our boss wanted to meet them, but he wasn’t there so we went for a walk to a doner shop and got them their first Turkish doner for lunch, before heading back to the school for an awkward conversation with the boss where he invited us to dinner the next day.  We accepted (as is polite in Turkish custom), and then blamed Dad’s back the next day and declined.  Joe and I both had classes that night, and I had moved Buglem from Thursday to Wednesday in order to have a relaxing day, and so M and D came home and skyped Em and did various other things and Joe and I both got home late.

             

              Our final day in Malatya shone bright and sunny again, Dad was continuing on the mend, and we found the bus to Battalgazi (the ancient part of Malatya) and although we didn’t know where we were going, we managed to find some ruins with English signs, and although they were poorly translated, they sufficed in getting the point across.  We finished up in Battalgazi and had a huge final lunch at one of our favourite restaurants, before dropping Joe at work and heading home.  We all rested for an hour and then Mom and I went on another walk (no one wanted dinner that night) and sorted out a way for them to get to the airport the next morning (Joe was a huge help and the secretary at work booked them a cab, so it was all easy-peasy.)  Mom and I drank and Dad watched us wistfully.  We had a lovely final evening, and it was nice that it wasn’t a final goodbye, as we will be seeing them in Cappadocia in just over a week!

p.s. all photos courtesy @brendadarlenedelvillepratt

Arrival Time

With my parents impeding arrival, Joe and I spent Monday re-arranging furniture in an attempt to make the house somewhat home-ier (we previously only spent time in the kitchen or bedroom as the couches were either broken or far too uncomfortable to sit on)- to be fair he did most of it, and I helped when things were too heavy or awkward- and then met Mustafa for coffee.  He had found a job for us that starts in September, saying it paid more than we make now (it doesn’t) and to which Joe and I told him in no uncertain terms that we have absolutely zero interest in staying in Malatya anyways.  He still dragged Joe to the meeting on Wednesday (I had a class, and even though it was cancelled last minute, I had no intention of going) as a favour to him.  No need to turn it down when it is as simple as that. 

Old living room furniture

The rest of the week has passed very quickly.  I have been busy sorting out bus cards and house keys and ensuring the sheets were clean- all things one does when expecting house guests, and Joe and I booked our bus tickets to Cappadocia (the first time I have booked tickets using Turkish with no one to help me) and I finally overcame my fears of getting a hair cut in foreign countries and found a place.  The guy cutting it was quite funny, my hair was seriously damaged- the bottom two inches especially, so he holds up the cut bit after his first cut and just says “kotu” which means “bad” in Turkish.  I laughed and agreed with him- it has probably been a good ten months since I last got a hair cut.  He spent a good hour working on my hair, bringing me baklava while he worked, and we chatted as far as my limited Turkish would take us.  When he showed me the cut at the end, it wasn’t as short as I had asked for, and he simply told me he didn’t want to cut it that short because it wouldn’t suit my face.  I said ok because I was happy with the length, but this is the third time I have been refused something.  The first time I was with a friend and we had salep (a Turkish cinnamon-y drink) and we tried to order French fries.  The waiter looked baffled and refused, and then last week Joe and I were at lunch and he tried to order a coffee. Again the waiter looked confused, “Yemek?” “Eating?” he said, and didn’t bring the coffee.  Coffee and food do not go together apparently.

The other main feature of the week has been furniture.  When we returned from our Christmas holiday, the freezer portion of the fridge stopped working.  The rest of the fridge stayed semi-cold, but things would go mouldy really quickly and I kept having to throw food away.  I approached Gungor about it a couple weeks ago, and he said to ask Onder for a new one but not to say that he had given me the idea.  I laughed, promised to keep him anonymous (I was pretty sure the fridge was older than I am) and then approached Onder.  He said he would send Wakas to look at it in a week, so two days later I lied and said it was getting worse and he sent Wakas the next morning.  Wakas confirmed my belief, that the fridge was indeed my age, and then said it was too old and he would get us a new one. 

New living room furniture

The next day (it was surprisingly prompt for Turkey) while I was at work, Wakas and two other guys showed up (three hours later than said) with a new fridge and four new pieces of furniture!  This was a huge surprise (my parents should have come months ago), and although they have a lingering smell of old cigarettes (clearly this is second hand furniture but beggars can’t be choosers) that I am hoping will air out soon.  This of course made our previous furniture arrangements moot, and so Joe and I spent this morning re-organizing, and although I would never have chosen this furniture it is a vast vast improvement.  The fridge has been an adjustment, as Joe and I had gotten so used to lukewarm food that we had forgotten what cold food or milk was supposed to taste like.  It was a minor readjustment for the taste-buds.  Only a day and a half to go, a few more final touches to be made and we will officially have visitors!  How exciting!

Observations

There is nothing like good ‘ol fashioned sexism in the classroom, and it’s even more irritating when your student has no idea that what he is saying is inappropriate.  Case in point. Yesterday, one of my students looked at me and said, 

“Can I ask: What’s your real job?”

Naturally I was surprised as I have never been asked this question before, and I responded, “This.  This is my real job.” 

He was baffled (real shock resonated through his features), “Really?” 

“Really,” I smiled to mask my uncertainty, unsure of where this conversation was going, “I have my degree in Linguistics and a Teaching Certificate that says this can be my real job.  I have been teaching for three years.  Why?”  I decided to tease him, “Am I bad teacher?”

No,” he replied, “You’re very beautiful, you’re not a bad teacher.”

His English wasn’t good enough for me to attempt a retort on the fact that beauty has nothing to do with teaching ability and explain just how inappropriate his comment was- it irks me to no end when students comment on my ‘beauty’, as I am not here to be the showpiece for ‘different’ aka ‘non-Turkish’ aka “beauty,” and although it is sweet, it is completely unprofessional- I would never have told my teachers that they were beautiful, but as Joe gets told he is handsome all the time by students (both male and female same as me, I don't know if you could classify it as 'sexism' and it is a fine line to cross when it simply comes to cultural differences or sexism) Having lived in a few places now, I am continually troubled by the idea that foreigners are exotic and something to be ogled like a shiny new watch.  While this is definitely preferable to being persecuted, shunned or hated, and I am in no way bemoaning- merely observing, it is exhausting to have the knowledge that you aren’t different where you come from, but merely perceived as different where you are.  Another one of my students told me that he wanted to marry a Russian woman or a Canadian woman (an odd comparison) because they are beautiful and Turkish women talk too much.  Didn’t really know how to respond to that one, except to tell him that actually he talked a lot and maybe Turkish women didn’t want to marry him.  When in doubt, joke.

           The next day I ran into Mustafa as I was waiting for the bus home.  A woman slowly got on the bus ahead of us with her small child, and to be fair, she was moving quite slowly.  Mustafa remarked, "Women are such a pain."  I was surprised but didn't say anything, and he continued, "They have such huge asses."

         I didn't really know how to respond, but he continued when we got on the bus, "The reason Turkish women have such huge asses," he continued, "Is because they do nothing all day but sit at home and watch TV."  This is big commentary from a man, who, when both times I have been to his house, sits on his ass and allows his wife to cook and clean and make tea and coffee and roll the cigarettes for him to smoke.  I was especially surprised as Mustafa is usually quite a philospher, and for him to stereotype all Turkish women in this manner was not something I expected.  I quipped back about the fact that it is actually more common that I see Turkish men sitting around smoking in the cafes all day, rather than the women and then quickly changed the subject to safer waters.  

It has been an interesting weekend in terms of trying to compare my views of sexism and culture between various places, and while it is true that the staring is not nearly as normal in Malatya as it was in Jakarta (and again to counter, white men were ogled perhaps not as much, but still fairly often in Jakarta) and even worse when I lived in Albania, Malatya doesn’t have as obvious problems with sexism as Indonesia did.  It is more subtle, more in the way you might expect of Vancouver, although nowhere near as high in the index of women’s rights.  It is interesting to hear these comments from time to time because although they tend to make me laugh, I also realize the danger that approaches my way of thinking.  Only Eser showed up to my Friday class, so rather than sit in the classroom we went for a beer, but I said I would only go if I was paying (he paid last time), he hesitated- clearly unhappy with this, but eventually relented to letting me buy one round.  He wants to get Joe and Ilker and a few others together next week for beers, and my first thought was Oh good.  It will be much easier to get him to let Joe pay then to let me pay.