The next chapter of my book officially has a location. Next year, I will be teaching at a private school in Naples, Florida. Until then, I am excitedly and sadly finishing up this chapter as a yabanci (Turkish for foreigner), trying to prepare for the next step as well as get the most out of the little time I have here.
The end of March brought my mom and her sister Julene out to Istanbul during my spring break. This was my mom's fifth time to Turkey, and due to this, the plan was that she would play Istanbul tour guide as Joe and I went to Portugal for four days. The plans quickly changed though, as Joe and I missed our flight. There is a story behind this. Two months later, I wish it was no longer painful to tell, but I still find myself a little tense as I walk through this one more time.
Now if you have read my blog at all, there is no need to tell you that I am a seasoned traveler. I think that needs to be emphasized as I tell my story. Joe and I got to the airport with plenty of time to catch our flight to Lisbon. We got through security, and decided to get a bite to eat first, then went to the gate about 40 minutes before the flight was to depart. The gate was full and no one was collecting tickets, so we sat down in the corner on the floor (for there were no open seats). I sat and read most of the time, but Joe kept checking to see if they were starting to collect the tickets, what the status was, etc. It then went up on the monitor that the flight was delayed 5 minutes. As the time for our flight came and went without any apparent boarding, Joe got anxious, but I was very calm until I saw them pulling my bag off the plane. There was still no one at the counter collecting tickets, so we ran to the help desk, who sent us somewhere else, who sent us somewhere else. We ran up and down the terminal, past our plane which was just sitting there. We were sent downstairs, where we frantically waited until they told us the plane had left. We were in disbelief at what happened, still not knowing what we should have done. We must have missed the pre-boarding when everyone else had boarded since we saw no one else board. All the people in the terminal were there for some other flight. The help desk worker promised us a ticket the next day, then sent us to a desk outside security to get it, where we were told we couldn't get a ticket unless we paid 1000 Euros. By then, we were stuck outside the gate and couldn't return to our help desk.
I could say that this was just not our day, but have been here long enough to say that this is Turkey. I am ready to go back to a more organized life. We came back to Robert College not just without our trip, but also without our luggage (although I know my bag was taken off the plane, they lost it somewhere in the airport...of course). I then set out to make lemonade as best I could. As soon as I got back, I called up my aunt and mom and joined them for the remainder of the week in Istanbul. We took a Bosphorus ferry to the Black Sea, saw Rumeli Fortress, toured the Grand Bazaar and Spice Bazaar, and shopped. We had a grand old time. Sometimes, things are meant to be... Of course, whenever I hear people say anything good about Portugal, there is this small pain in my heart.
As sad as it was to see those two go, life was now in high gear for me and I had little time to think about it. We hosted a basketball tournament the next weekend. The following weekend, I went to Iznik with RC Runs for the Iznik 10k. We left Saturday morning with the 32 students, taking a big bus on the ferry and arriving in Iznik that afternoon, just in time to see the first of the ultra runners coming in from their 130k race. We got our bibs, then split up to see the sights and shop. Iznik is known for its ceramics (the Blue Mosque got its name from the Iznik blue tiles that cover its interior) as well as the home of the Nicean Creed (and host to the first Ecumenical Council). The next morning, we all ran and finished the race, which took us along the town's old walls and by the expansive Iznik Lake. One student finished third for his age group. I finished behind him, but good enough for second of the women, which earned me a beautiful Iznik plaque. Best of all, the kids had a great time and were searching for other races to sign up for as our bus took us back to Istanbul.
We had a four-day Holiday at the beginning of May and I took the opportunity to visit my friend Linda in Prague. Last spring, Linda student-taught at the Prague British School, and was then hired on for the following school year which brings her to now. The two of us drank beer, exchanged stories as expats, and ate plenty of ham (although I am not a huge meat eater, I now go on pork kicks every time I leave Istanbul). Linda works with a bunch of Brits and we laughed at the miscommunication that goes on between us native English speakers. For example, a student of mine a few days earlier had asked me for a rubber. I have been here long enough to know that a rubber means an eraser in British speak, but I cautioned her about asking for a rubber if she went to study in the States. Of course, she looked at me with her large innocent eyes and asked "what does a rubber mean in the States." I then opened this to my class, thinking at least one of my 15-year-olds would know, but none of them did. Turkish kids as a whole are so much more innocent than American kids, so I explained to the best of my ability what a rubber meant in America, after all, it's my job to prepare them for the future and most likely, 30% of them will head there for college.
Prague is a beautiful city. Linda and I did a good job of just hanging out, sitting and chatting at beer gardens or over food, as well as sight-see. I visited the magnificent Prague castle, built by the Bohemian royalty, crossed the famous Charles Bridge, and saw the famous Astrological Clock, the oldest working clock of its kind.
I returned to RC for a quick week of work, then left for a quick weekend to Jerusalem with Joe. We flew in Friday evening, got through security relatively easily for where we were (gave me a false sense of security on my way back), and hopped into a shared cab to Jerusalem. We arrived after the start of shabbat (sundown Friday) and therefore our entrance into Jerusalem was quiet. The only activity seemed to be the good Jewish boys in either their yamakas or large brimmed hat and hair curls with conservative dressed young ladies. Of course, every society has their bad boy and we quickly found out we were right in the middle of it. As we walked up to our hotel, the streets were full of young men and women hitting the bars. It was quite the vibrant scene.
The next morning, Joe and I met up with a tour group we had previously booked. We headed up to the Mount of Olives, the hill Jesus had traversed on his way to the Holy City, as well as the location of the garden he was later captured before his crucifixion. From the hill, we could see the magnificent walled city. The Muslim Dome of the Rock stood out with its golden dome, standing in the same location as the once magnificent Second Temple. Nearby was the Wailing Wall, a part of the retaining wall that was part of the Second Temple. It is so important to Jews and therefore Christians due to the fact that this is all that remains of that holy place that Jesus once taught. The Dome of the Rock, that now stands where the Temple stood, is open to only Muslims except for limited visiting hours. To the left of the Old City are the remains of the City of David from 1000 BC. Further in the distance to the left about 15 minutes by car, stretched the walls dividing the West Bank from Jerusalem, and a little further in, Bethlehem.
After, we headed to Mount Zion, the supposed location of Jesus' Last Supper and later Mary's assumption into heaven. More chapels and churches. Not much else to report. We then headed into Palestinian occupied territory and Bethlehem. We had to first cross the check point which was located at the long wall separating the lands. For us tourists, it was easy to get through. For our Jewish tour guide, she had to get special papers. Even then, she was not allowed to guide us on that side. So we were turned over to a different tour guide, who made it his mission to get us to the front of the line to see Jesus' place of birth. Honestly, just experiencing it all was my favorite part. The Church of the Nativity, location of Jesus' birth, was originally built by the Crusaders. Those guys were all over in this land. Additions had been made by various Christian denominations, creating a church with a crazy combination of art styles. A line wound through the whole church to descend a stairway below the altar to see the actual birthplace. Our tour guide encouraged us to cut, but when I bailed on that, he begged and pleaded with the security guard at the exit until I (and Joe, who also refused in the madness) got in. I still felt so awful that I snapped a few pictures and ran, before the tour guide who initially caught us cutting saw me down there.
We stopped to shop for some Christian olive wood carvings before leaving and heading into the Old City. The Old City of Jerusalem was separated into four different quarters: Jewish, Christian, Muslim, and Armenian (who want to stay separate from the Christians). We wandered down the narrow streets, past the houses and schools of those still living in this holy of holy lands, through the bustling markets. The feel was interesting. I combination of the Middle East markets and goods, with a little more Western organization. The main language was Hebrew, but everyone seemed to speak English fluently. The Western feel faded significantly as we entered the Muslim quarter, where things seemed to be more bustling, people seemed to yell louder, and shops seemed to be more crowded.
In the Old City, we first visited the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, location of Jesus' crucifixion and burial. Like the Church of the Nativity, this church had been decorated by Christian denominations all over the world. Little and big chapels were tucked into spaces in this enormous church which was again built by the Crusaders (although the original building which had been destroyed was built by Emperor Constantine). After leaving the church, we followed the stations of the cross and eventually made our way to the Wailing Wall to touch the holy stone.
The trip was fascinating, and not just due to the sites. The history of this country is so unique. Although everyone is living together in some sort of harmony, it is clear that misunderstanding and doubt is everywhere. Most Jews were quick to welcome Christians in as their brothers and sisters. They were happy to hear we were American. They were quick to tell you about all we share in our religion. Nothing, though, was said about how much the Muslims share as well. We were told several times to be weary of the Muslims because they will rip us off. We were also told that those in Palestine want to be back in Israel due to the better economy and health care. We did not actually talk to any local Muslims, but I have a feeling that they would have shared the same kind of mistrust for the other. It is too bad to see. From my perspective, and this is also drawing from my experiences as an expat in Istanbul, I think much problem arises from misunderstanding of not religion, but culture. For example, our tour guide almost apologized for the old fashioned Judaism practices that necessitated men and women to separate to see the Wailing Wall. I think if many Westerners looked closely, it is not Islam that causes the differences between us and them, but the different cultures. The male dominated world on this side has decided women to cover, not Islam. People can look back at our history and see that Christian women had to stand in the back or balcony of the church at one time. I don't think many would say our religion dictated this, but rather the culture at the time.
As I had hinted, our departure from Israel was not as easy as our arrival. I was selected to go in the special security line, which meant I had my own security guard escort me through the metal detectors, go through my bag, give me a body scan, then take me into a special compartment and ask me to drop my pants. Nope, not kidding. I thought she was and laughed and quickly learned she does not joke.
My week back at school after this trip was supposed to be easy. Four days of teaching, then an all day field day, in celebration of Youth and Sports Day Monday, then a three day weekend for the actual holiday. This changed on Tuesday when an explosion ripped through a mine in Soma about 3 hours south of here, killing over 300 miners. Prime Minister Recep Tayyip Erdogan called a three day period of mourning for the whole country, meaning all events had to be cancelled. Our field day was called off, and instead we were to have a whole day of classes. This approach to mourning is completely new to me. Imagine a mine disaster in West Virginia of which you know no one involved, and you are mandated by the government to cancel all sporting events, plays, and clubs. Any movies or concerts you were going to that evening have to cancel as well. And this goes on for three days.
Erdogan then proceeded to shoot himself in the foot. He went to Soma and told the mourning families that these things happen in the industry. He then went on to quote 19th Century Western mining disasters to support this statement. It was quickly discovered that his political party, the Ak Parti, had shut down a proposal only a week earlier to look into the Soma mine with concerns that safety is not up to par, in which they responded that there was no reason to worry. Protests broke out in Soma, Istanbul, and other cities throughout the country, which were repressed with tear gas and water cannons. RTE responded by saying that any protester will get slapped by him. He then accidentally slapped a mourner, mistaking him as a protester. As if this was not enough, his aide then was caught on camera kicking a protester (at least this guy was actually a protester) who was being held down by two policemen. Whether or not these protests will have a different outcome, only time will tell.
The end of March brought my mom and her sister Julene out to Istanbul during my spring break. This was my mom's fifth time to Turkey, and due to this, the plan was that she would play Istanbul tour guide as Joe and I went to Portugal for four days. The plans quickly changed though, as Joe and I missed our flight. There is a story behind this. Two months later, I wish it was no longer painful to tell, but I still find myself a little tense as I walk through this one more time.
Now if you have read my blog at all, there is no need to tell you that I am a seasoned traveler. I think that needs to be emphasized as I tell my story. Joe and I got to the airport with plenty of time to catch our flight to Lisbon. We got through security, and decided to get a bite to eat first, then went to the gate about 40 minutes before the flight was to depart. The gate was full and no one was collecting tickets, so we sat down in the corner on the floor (for there were no open seats). I sat and read most of the time, but Joe kept checking to see if they were starting to collect the tickets, what the status was, etc. It then went up on the monitor that the flight was delayed 5 minutes. As the time for our flight came and went without any apparent boarding, Joe got anxious, but I was very calm until I saw them pulling my bag off the plane. There was still no one at the counter collecting tickets, so we ran to the help desk, who sent us somewhere else, who sent us somewhere else. We ran up and down the terminal, past our plane which was just sitting there. We were sent downstairs, where we frantically waited until they told us the plane had left. We were in disbelief at what happened, still not knowing what we should have done. We must have missed the pre-boarding when everyone else had boarded since we saw no one else board. All the people in the terminal were there for some other flight. The help desk worker promised us a ticket the next day, then sent us to a desk outside security to get it, where we were told we couldn't get a ticket unless we paid 1000 Euros. By then, we were stuck outside the gate and couldn't return to our help desk.
I could say that this was just not our day, but have been here long enough to say that this is Turkey. I am ready to go back to a more organized life. We came back to Robert College not just without our trip, but also without our luggage (although I know my bag was taken off the plane, they lost it somewhere in the airport...of course). I then set out to make lemonade as best I could. As soon as I got back, I called up my aunt and mom and joined them for the remainder of the week in Istanbul. We took a Bosphorus ferry to the Black Sea, saw Rumeli Fortress, toured the Grand Bazaar and Spice Bazaar, and shopped. We had a grand old time. Sometimes, things are meant to be... Of course, whenever I hear people say anything good about Portugal, there is this small pain in my heart.
As sad as it was to see those two go, life was now in high gear for me and I had little time to think about it. We hosted a basketball tournament the next weekend. The following weekend, I went to Iznik with RC Runs for the Iznik 10k. We left Saturday morning with the 32 students, taking a big bus on the ferry and arriving in Iznik that afternoon, just in time to see the first of the ultra runners coming in from their 130k race. We got our bibs, then split up to see the sights and shop. Iznik is known for its ceramics (the Blue Mosque got its name from the Iznik blue tiles that cover its interior) as well as the home of the Nicean Creed (and host to the first Ecumenical Council). The next morning, we all ran and finished the race, which took us along the town's old walls and by the expansive Iznik Lake. One student finished third for his age group. I finished behind him, but good enough for second of the women, which earned me a beautiful Iznik plaque. Best of all, the kids had a great time and were searching for other races to sign up for as our bus took us back to Istanbul.
We had a four-day Holiday at the beginning of May and I took the opportunity to visit my friend Linda in Prague. Last spring, Linda student-taught at the Prague British School, and was then hired on for the following school year which brings her to now. The two of us drank beer, exchanged stories as expats, and ate plenty of ham (although I am not a huge meat eater, I now go on pork kicks every time I leave Istanbul). Linda works with a bunch of Brits and we laughed at the miscommunication that goes on between us native English speakers. For example, a student of mine a few days earlier had asked me for a rubber. I have been here long enough to know that a rubber means an eraser in British speak, but I cautioned her about asking for a rubber if she went to study in the States. Of course, she looked at me with her large innocent eyes and asked "what does a rubber mean in the States." I then opened this to my class, thinking at least one of my 15-year-olds would know, but none of them did. Turkish kids as a whole are so much more innocent than American kids, so I explained to the best of my ability what a rubber meant in America, after all, it's my job to prepare them for the future and most likely, 30% of them will head there for college.
Prague is a beautiful city. Linda and I did a good job of just hanging out, sitting and chatting at beer gardens or over food, as well as sight-see. I visited the magnificent Prague castle, built by the Bohemian royalty, crossed the famous Charles Bridge, and saw the famous Astrological Clock, the oldest working clock of its kind.
I returned to RC for a quick week of work, then left for a quick weekend to Jerusalem with Joe. We flew in Friday evening, got through security relatively easily for where we were (gave me a false sense of security on my way back), and hopped into a shared cab to Jerusalem. We arrived after the start of shabbat (sundown Friday) and therefore our entrance into Jerusalem was quiet. The only activity seemed to be the good Jewish boys in either their yamakas or large brimmed hat and hair curls with conservative dressed young ladies. Of course, every society has their bad boy and we quickly found out we were right in the middle of it. As we walked up to our hotel, the streets were full of young men and women hitting the bars. It was quite the vibrant scene.
The next morning, Joe and I met up with a tour group we had previously booked. We headed up to the Mount of Olives, the hill Jesus had traversed on his way to the Holy City, as well as the location of the garden he was later captured before his crucifixion. From the hill, we could see the magnificent walled city. The Muslim Dome of the Rock stood out with its golden dome, standing in the same location as the once magnificent Second Temple. Nearby was the Wailing Wall, a part of the retaining wall that was part of the Second Temple. It is so important to Jews and therefore Christians due to the fact that this is all that remains of that holy place that Jesus once taught. The Dome of the Rock, that now stands where the Temple stood, is open to only Muslims except for limited visiting hours. To the left of the Old City are the remains of the City of David from 1000 BC. Further in the distance to the left about 15 minutes by car, stretched the walls dividing the West Bank from Jerusalem, and a little further in, Bethlehem.
After, we headed to Mount Zion, the supposed location of Jesus' Last Supper and later Mary's assumption into heaven. More chapels and churches. Not much else to report. We then headed into Palestinian occupied territory and Bethlehem. We had to first cross the check point which was located at the long wall separating the lands. For us tourists, it was easy to get through. For our Jewish tour guide, she had to get special papers. Even then, she was not allowed to guide us on that side. So we were turned over to a different tour guide, who made it his mission to get us to the front of the line to see Jesus' place of birth. Honestly, just experiencing it all was my favorite part. The Church of the Nativity, location of Jesus' birth, was originally built by the Crusaders. Those guys were all over in this land. Additions had been made by various Christian denominations, creating a church with a crazy combination of art styles. A line wound through the whole church to descend a stairway below the altar to see the actual birthplace. Our tour guide encouraged us to cut, but when I bailed on that, he begged and pleaded with the security guard at the exit until I (and Joe, who also refused in the madness) got in. I still felt so awful that I snapped a few pictures and ran, before the tour guide who initially caught us cutting saw me down there.
We stopped to shop for some Christian olive wood carvings before leaving and heading into the Old City. The Old City of Jerusalem was separated into four different quarters: Jewish, Christian, Muslim, and Armenian (who want to stay separate from the Christians). We wandered down the narrow streets, past the houses and schools of those still living in this holy of holy lands, through the bustling markets. The feel was interesting. I combination of the Middle East markets and goods, with a little more Western organization. The main language was Hebrew, but everyone seemed to speak English fluently. The Western feel faded significantly as we entered the Muslim quarter, where things seemed to be more bustling, people seemed to yell louder, and shops seemed to be more crowded.
In the Old City, we first visited the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, location of Jesus' crucifixion and burial. Like the Church of the Nativity, this church had been decorated by Christian denominations all over the world. Little and big chapels were tucked into spaces in this enormous church which was again built by the Crusaders (although the original building which had been destroyed was built by Emperor Constantine). After leaving the church, we followed the stations of the cross and eventually made our way to the Wailing Wall to touch the holy stone.
The trip was fascinating, and not just due to the sites. The history of this country is so unique. Although everyone is living together in some sort of harmony, it is clear that misunderstanding and doubt is everywhere. Most Jews were quick to welcome Christians in as their brothers and sisters. They were happy to hear we were American. They were quick to tell you about all we share in our religion. Nothing, though, was said about how much the Muslims share as well. We were told several times to be weary of the Muslims because they will rip us off. We were also told that those in Palestine want to be back in Israel due to the better economy and health care. We did not actually talk to any local Muslims, but I have a feeling that they would have shared the same kind of mistrust for the other. It is too bad to see. From my perspective, and this is also drawing from my experiences as an expat in Istanbul, I think much problem arises from misunderstanding of not religion, but culture. For example, our tour guide almost apologized for the old fashioned Judaism practices that necessitated men and women to separate to see the Wailing Wall. I think if many Westerners looked closely, it is not Islam that causes the differences between us and them, but the different cultures. The male dominated world on this side has decided women to cover, not Islam. People can look back at our history and see that Christian women had to stand in the back or balcony of the church at one time. I don't think many would say our religion dictated this, but rather the culture at the time.
As I had hinted, our departure from Israel was not as easy as our arrival. I was selected to go in the special security line, which meant I had my own security guard escort me through the metal detectors, go through my bag, give me a body scan, then take me into a special compartment and ask me to drop my pants. Nope, not kidding. I thought she was and laughed and quickly learned she does not joke.
My week back at school after this trip was supposed to be easy. Four days of teaching, then an all day field day, in celebration of Youth and Sports Day Monday, then a three day weekend for the actual holiday. This changed on Tuesday when an explosion ripped through a mine in Soma about 3 hours south of here, killing over 300 miners. Prime Minister Recep Tayyip Erdogan called a three day period of mourning for the whole country, meaning all events had to be cancelled. Our field day was called off, and instead we were to have a whole day of classes. This approach to mourning is completely new to me. Imagine a mine disaster in West Virginia of which you know no one involved, and you are mandated by the government to cancel all sporting events, plays, and clubs. Any movies or concerts you were going to that evening have to cancel as well. And this goes on for three days.
Erdogan then proceeded to shoot himself in the foot. He went to Soma and told the mourning families that these things happen in the industry. He then went on to quote 19th Century Western mining disasters to support this statement. It was quickly discovered that his political party, the Ak Parti, had shut down a proposal only a week earlier to look into the Soma mine with concerns that safety is not up to par, in which they responded that there was no reason to worry. Protests broke out in Soma, Istanbul, and other cities throughout the country, which were repressed with tear gas and water cannons. RTE responded by saying that any protester will get slapped by him. He then accidentally slapped a mourner, mistaking him as a protester. As if this was not enough, his aide then was caught on camera kicking a protester (at least this guy was actually a protester) who was being held down by two policemen. Whether or not these protests will have a different outcome, only time will tell.
