Last months as a Yabanci

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. 

Sicily

I have officially set a final date for this adventure.  I did not sign another contract here, meaning after June 27, I will no longer be employed here in Turkey.  This means that at the moment, I need to take advantage of the travel opportunities I do have while I am in earshot of Europe, Asia, and Africa.  I am poring over my schedule, highlighting all long weekends, breaks, and making sure I am making something out of them.  I have made a nice little savings while working here at Robert College, and think I will blow it in this last semester.  So well worth it...

After returning from Christmas in the States, we all hobbled into the end of the semester.  By hobble, I mean that we went into non-assessment week, where not much happens, to two weeks of finals (where even less happens).  Over the two weeks of finals, I had no coaching, frantic grading for only two days, and twenty hours of teaching.  I VERY light schedule when you add it all up, but I, believe it or not, have a heavy final schedule compared to most teachers.

Following that difficult week, Joe and I took off for a week and a half long trip in Italy.  We left Monday, January 27 for Naples.  As luck would have it, two colleagues shared the same flight.  As luck did not have it, some airport worker in Istanbul did not put the luggage on the correct flight.  Therefore, we ended up in the horrible "missing luggage" desk.  It was a disaster.  I quickly discovered that southern Italians were not much better than Turks as far as waiting in lines.  It took me losing it with one of the workers to finally get some attention.  I see now why they have such short tempers on this side of the world...

We got in late that evening.  Celeste, the colleague who actually lost her luggage, fought through the Neapolitan traffic and got us to our hotel in Pompei, the current village of the ancient famous city of Pompeii (yes the different spelling is correct).  Although Joe and I had thought we had had a full day of traveling, we quickly found that we were on a schedule way too early for the Italians.  When we went out for food, it was only 5pm.  We realized how early it was when we asked our hotel concierge for a good Neapolitan pizzeria.  Now?! she exclaimed.  No restaurants opened for dinner before 7pm.  Don't know what the old people do here.  We therefore were forced to go to a bar for some Italian wine, twist my arm...  Funny enough, none of the bars were much different than a 7eleven.  They had a counter that sold lottery tickets, chips, gum, candy bars.  The only difference is that they were much smaller, had some plastic tables tucked in corners, and had a full bar  set up on some pre-made shelves behind them.  We spent two happy hours drinking and chatting before heading over to the local pizzeria. I ordered a Margarita pizza because I wanted it simple, but an appetizer of prosciutto because I missed ham so much.  Both were amazing.  Neapolitan pizza at its finest. Already in love with this place.

Pompeii and Herculaneum
The next day, Joe and I headed out to the famous Pompeii ruins.  It was a magical experience, one I don't think I could ever repeat.  For one thing, we walked through the city almost entirely alone.  Our hotel was near the less used back entrance of the ruins.  Therefore, when we entered that morning, no one was around us until we neared the front entrance over an hour later.  We walked through the giant ampitheater, down the streets, past the magnificent houses completely alone as the sun rose over the old city.

Many people have heard about Pompeii, but until you really see it, you have no idea how amazing this place is.  I have walked through many very well-preserved Roman cities, but none of those gave me the feeling of being in that ancient world as Pompeii (that is, until I went to Herculaneum hours later).  You could still see the paint on the walls that stood one story high (the second stories were not covered by the ash in Pompeii so they were not preserved).  We walked into houses and got the feel for their majesty.  We walked through the entry, we saw the grand entrance with a fountain in the middle to catch the rainwater, mosaic-ed floors, and fresco-ed walls.  As the sun rose, we wandered the cobbled roads, trying to stay on the main road(s) so we wouldn't get lost, just as one would in a big city.  I was amazed at the feel I got that I was in a real, but deserted city.  I have never felt this awe wandering through a Roman city before.

We did eventually get to the front entrance, and sadly that awe left as we ran into an increasing number of tourists.  We met up with our friends Jack and Celeste and headed to another less-known, but spouted to be more impressive ruins from the same Vesuvius eruption in 79 AD.  What makes Herculaneum different is that the pyroclastic material that ended up preserving the city was much higher, preserving the first and second stories of the buildings (its ash went 20m high versus Pompeii's ash of about 6m height).  Furthermore, due to its location, Herculaneum received much hotter blasts from the eruption, causing wood and food to actually be preserved.

Herculaneum (population of about 5,000) is a smaller city than Pompeii (population of about 20,000).  Although the city is now several hundred meters from the sea, it was a seaside port at the time of the eruption.  Over 300 skeletons were found along their beach, supposedly waiting rescue when the high heat rolled in, killing them all instantly.  After walking past the beach, we came to the streets of the city.  Two-story buildings stood on both sides.  Many taverns lined the streets, with counters containing built-in storage for the hot food.  Romans often went out to these taverns for the food, rarely eating at their own house.  We walked past more grand houses, similar to those in Pompeii, but many better preserved.  One house even had a wood sliding door, preserved all this time.  We walked through the houses, the rooms, and their gardens.  We walked past stores with storage barrels that once held the merchandise.  Unlike any other Roman city I have been in, Herculaneum and Pompeii really gave me a sense of how sophisticated life was as an ancient Roman.

After exploring the ruins, we took off for Celeste and Jack's bed and breakfast for some wine and food before heading back to Pompei.

Syracuse, Sicily
We left early the next day for the Naples Airport to go to Catania, Sicily, one of the two main airports on the island.  After one stop through Rome, we got into Catania that afternoon, then drove one hour south to Syracuse.  Our hotel was on the island of Ortygia in Syracuse and has long been an important center of the city.  We wandered the narrow streets past beautiful Baroque buildings and found a nice restaurant for the island's renown seafood.

The next day, we headed out to Noto, south of Syracuse.  Like many towns in that area, Noto was destroyed by an earthquake in 1693.  The town was completely rebuilt with Baroque architecture.  We wandered through the beautiful city, peaking into the cathedral and many churches (as all Italian cities have, I quickly realized), then headed south to the southeastern tip of the island of Capo Passero where not too much was happening.  There was the beautiful sea, but most shops and restaurants were boarded up for their siesta.  As much as I like the idea of the Italian siesta, I found it quite annoying.  Thorughout the trip, it  seemed like we were always looking for a place to shop or eat during the Italian's nap time from 2-6pm. Luckily the 7-11 bars were always open.  More wine?

The next day, we first stopped to see the Greek and Roman ruins of Syracuse, then headed up north to the mountain town of Taormina.  In Taormina, we wandered the streets past the Baroque fountain, Norman church, and medieval walls.  There were beautiful vistas of the Ionian Sea below.  The weather was blustery and cold, and we stopped for some wine and pizza for a warm up before heading back for our last night at Syracuse.

Marsala, Sicily
The next day we headed from the east to the west side of the island to the city of Marsala.  The day was not ideal driving conditions, being rainy and overcast.  For four hours, we wound slowly through the small roads along the southern shore of the island, only to spend the last hour wandering up and down the streets in search of our bed and breakfast with no road signs to go on (I don't know why the Italians even bother to name them if they won't put up road signs).  We finally made it to our villa, a cozy little place on a beautiful estate with orange and lemon groves.  We dropped off the car and headed into the town of Marsala for some seafood pasta.


The following day, we headed out to Erice, a medieval mountaintop village.  The weather was rainy and very windy up there.  Our feet quickly became soaked and we ended up jumping between the few open shops and restaurants to stay warm.  We did our best to wander the narrow cobbled streets, look at the castle and churches, and enjoy the old streets.  By the time we made it back, we had lost all feeling in our extremities and were drenched.  We headed back to our villa to warm up by the fire and prepare for the big Superbowl.  It was being shown on Italian TV, with Italian announcers and all.

We did not get an early start the next day, seeing that the Superbowl did not end until 4:30am.  We drove along the shore near Marsala, then headed into the town again to get some last gifts.  Marsala is known for its wine, similar to a port (just as Port is named after the region it is from, Marsala wine is called Marsala and is very popular in cooking).  We tasted tested and brought some back with us, as well as some local pasta and pestos.

Catania, Sicily
The next morning, we headed back across the island, stopping at Segesta to see its fifth century BC doric temple. It was finally a sunny day and we enjoyed the view of the beautiful valley with wildflowers. We got into Catania that afternoon and were greeted by parades of people, blocking our way to our hotel.  We found a parking garage and as we pulled our suitcases out to the street, we were met by flocks of people.  In the middle of the street, people in white robes carried massive floats.  Around them vendors sold nuts, treats, balloons, and religious tokens.  Giant candles were everywhere, also for sale.  It did not take us too long to find out that this festival was for Saint Agatha, Catania's patron saint.  We wove our way through the crowd and found our hotel, then returned to the streets.  Over the whole Sicilian trip, we had been feeling quite alone.  There have been few tourists and therefore few shops and sites open.  Our last night in Catania was refreshing, to see so many people out in the street.  All shops and churches were open and we walked around freely, before heading to dinner for our last Sicilian meal.  I chose gnocchi with swordfish.  Amazing!  The next morning, we headed to the airport for our trek back to Istanbul.

Home for Christmas

I have made it home for another Christmas with my family, my second Christmas home since I have left for Istanbul.  There are many things to be excited about.  I have a new nephew, Luke, now one month old, to meet.  I have another nephew , Blake, who recently turned one and is just a bundle of happy energy.  And of course I have my opinionated little niece Emma, two and a half going on thirteen, who I hear story after story about.  My younger brother Dave has also gotten up and moved to San Diego since I last saw him.  This will be my first time seeing him since this move.  To top it off, Chicago has been blanketed with a thick layer of snow, making it a beautiful white Christmas.

Life leading up to this has been busy, as always, but good.  After sending my parents off in October, I got back to work.  During the Thanksgiving holiday, Joe and I chaperoned a group of 11 kids to Munich.  It was a wonderful escape from Turkey.  I always feel closer to home when I leave Istanbul and go to Europe (I know you could say Istanbul is in Europe, but the feel is so different).  Trains leave on time.  People wait in lines.  They clean up after themselves.  They recycle.  The students stayed with host families, making the chaperoning job very easy.  We went to school (a school just outside of Munich) in the mornings, then left and toured around Munich in the afternoons.  After sending off the kids in the evening with their hosts, we were able to go back to Munich and check out the many Christmas Markets.  We took one full day to head up to Regensburg, a medieval town so well-preserved it is a UNESCO site.  We toured around the town.  Joe had attended school here and we actually saw where he lived as he picked up all his German.  The trip came to an end too quickly.  Before leaving, we loaded our bags with Advent calendars, chocolate Santas, and marzipan.   

Back in Istanbul, athletics has been a big part of my busy life.  The running group was training twice a week for the November 17 fifteen kilometer race (9 miles).  Now, I had not exactly been easy on these girls during training.  I see athletics and especially girls' athletics much further behind in Turkey.  With this running club, I wanted to push these girls past their comfort zone so they could see how much they were capable of.  This means, I often was on them to continue running.  Girls who would take frequent water breaks or stop to catch their breath were reminded by me with a stern yell that "this isn't a walking club!" or more directly "run!!!"  I found girls always looking over their shoulder to see if I was there, and a few resisted ("you're going to give us a heart attack!"), and a few girls dropped out, but most remained and really did push themselves.  When the 15k date came, fifteen of them showed up and ran the entire 15k.  It was so evident how important this experience was for these girls.  They were absolutely glowing after the race, eager to know when the next race was.  Although the club stopped for the winter, some have continued to meet on our regular days and run together.  The sight of girls running around campus, what was once a nonexistent sight, is now common.  Due to this enthusiasm, a few other teachers and I organized another race in April.  We had an interest meeting, opening it now to boys as well since they wanted to join to, and over 80 students showed up!  It looks like we have started something new at Robert College.

Basketball is my other happy time.  The girls team is young, but enthusiastic.  As I said, girls' sports here are a little behind than sports in the States.  My girls would seem more like a middle school beginner team than a high school team.  There are many basics that need to be taught.  Much credit has to be given to my group of girls.  They are not only learning a new sport, but doing it in a different language.  Often on our travels, my assistant and I are the only foreigners.  This gives the girls another challenge.  They are not only interpreting everything I say, but translating what is being said between the coaches, refs, and me.  Although it is easy for me to focus on the challenges I encounter speaking a foreign language and coming from a different culture, these girls have just as much if not more of a challenge, needing to translate constantly as well as understand their coach who is not only speaking a second language, but also coming from a different culture.  

This language and cultural challenge was highlighted at our last game.  We arrived at our game quite early (you just never know or understand traffic in Istanbul).  The girls got changed, then we spent some time shooting around before our game.  Before the start of the game, we headed back to the locker room only to realize we had been robbed.  Wallets and iPhones had been taken from all the girls.  I went out with a few of my girls to find those in charge at this rec center.  The security officer was able to find this guy on the cameras, and many people were able to identify him.  That being said, no one knew who this guy was.  Now, as I am telling you this story, you can remember my position in this.  The security guard is looking at video with many huddled around him.  A few of my girls are in here, talking very quickly.  Refs from the game have entered and are talking to them and adding their own pieces of advice.  Meanwhile, I am standing in the middle of this room and NOT UNDERSTANDING A SINGLE WORD.  So everything I say was said is what I ASSUMED was said.  At this point in time, I cannot ask my distressed kids to translate for me.  Finally, after about 10 minutes of this chaos, I chime in.  "Has anyone called the police?"  For talking in a foreign language, many people understood me.  The security guard considered it, then nodded his head, picked up the phone, looked at the phone book (they don't have 911 like we do), and called someone I assumed was the police.  I leave that room and go to find the rest of my kids.  Many are now spread out on the court on their laptops (which were not taken) locating their iphones on the iCloud.  Some kids located their devices and reported it to those in the security room, who decided they knew where this was and were going to go recover it themselves (still no police sighting...I never did see any police).  Before I knew it, they with a couple of my kids were walking out the door to go to the said street to recover their things.  I was shocked.  By this time, I had discovered one ref spoke English, and told her firmly that my kids were not going anywhere unless it was the police station.  Since we had not yet played our game, I asked the officials (translated by one of my kids, of course) if we could postpone it (it was an official Turkish game), but told we could only forfeit.  For what my girls had gone through and how little they knew about it, they responded wonderfully.  They decided to play, sucked it up, and played tremendously although they came up a few points short.  As soon as the final bell went off, the tears started flowing again.  By this time, a security official from Robert College had showed up and taken over.  He promised me they were doing everything, to my frustration, giving very little detail.  As an American, I wanted to know exactly what was happening. As a good Turk, he was reassuring me that everything was getting taken care of.  We left that place.  None of my girls or I had seen a single police officer nor knew what was happening.

I am right now on a one-year contract, needing to make my official decision shortly after I get back.  As you can probably understand from this story, there are many frustrating parts of life here that I am ready to leave.  Add into the equation my young niece and nephews, coming back State-side is very tempting.  On the other side of the coin, there are some truly remarkable students and teachers here I would really miss.  I have also been able to travel to some amazing places thanks to this job.  I have traveled all over Turkey, to Egypt, Jordan, Crete, Athens, Amsterdam with Sicily and Pompeii up soon.

Crete

Today is Republic Day, the Turkish equivalent of the Fourth of July.  Ninety years ago from today, Turkey officially became a Republic under the leadership of Mustafa Kemal (Ataturk).  Boats filled with celebrating Turks have been going up and down the Bosporus all day.  Everyone is currently waiting for the fireworks show later this evening.  Republic Day is not only important for Turks, but also important to all of us working here since it gives us a much needed day off from school to catch up on things.

I am into my third year of teaching.  Year three of teaching is not even comparable to year one, but I will try my best to compare them by looking at the tangibles.  At this point in the end of October, during my first year I had probably cried about 20 times, compared to 0 times this year (hoping to keep this streak going).  Time spent on lesson planning has been drastically reduced, although that time has been replaced quickly.  I am coaching the girls' basketball team, meeting twice a week, as well as coaching a running group that is going to run the 15k race, part of the Istanbul Marathon, also meeting twice a week.  To add to that, our school is going through its reaccreditation so I have meetings for that, department meetings, and finally evening duties.  An evening with nothing after school is much rarer than an evening with multiple obligations after the final bell.

Much thanks to the government, the protest movement that swept Turkey last spring has been largely stifled.  At the beginning of this school year, the government made sure that all college students knew any government aid or scholarship would be pulled if the student was thought to be involved with any protest movement.  Soccer fans, known to get political, had to promise this year to abstain from any political talk at matches or else lose their season tickets.  Schools such as ours were put under the microscope.  Two days after a conservative paper implicated our school for protest involvement, the Ministry of Education showed up at our doorstep.  They started interviewing teachers and students, beginning with those specifically called out in the article.  They have since left, but definitely left us behind in fear and confusion, something any good witchhunt will do.  I am sure this is their intent.


I took off for a quick trip at the beginning of the school year.  We had a three-day holiday and Joe and I took off for Hatay, Turkey (more commonly known by Christians as ancient Antioch).  The timing was not ideal.  We arrived shortly after chemical weapons had been released in Syria.  Therefore, we headed to Hatay, located less than an hour from the Syrian border, while the United States positioned warships nearby.  Despite this, we had a wonderful time.  We visited the famous Archeological Museum and Saint Paul's Church, explored the countryside, and ate the renown food which has much more Middle East influence than other areas of Turkey. 

Then, it was back to school and work until October 9 when my parents came out for two weeks, most of this time overlapping my one week Bayram (Muslim religious Holiday).  They came with their bags loaded with goodies: lots of cheddar cheese, Halloween candy, Trader Joe chocolate, cans of pumpkin, tapatio, and black beans.

On October 12, they headed back to Ataturk Airport (this time with me) and flew to the largest Greek island for a five day adventure.  After a one-hour flight to Athens, then another one-hour flight to Heraklion, we were on the island of Crete.
We spent our first two nights in Iraklio, the largest city and capital of the island.  We wandered around the city, exploring the Venetian harbor, a remnant of its Venetian past.  In 1204, the Republic of Venice bought this city and ruled it for over 400 years (up until those nasty Ottomans).  A Venetian loggia (men's club?), fortress, and shipyards still stand.

The second day we took a short day trip from Iraklio to famous Knossos.  Knossos is an ancient Minoan civilization from the Bronze Age believed to be Europe's oldest city (most of it was built between 1700 and 1400 BC!).  It is sometimes referred to as a labyrinth for good reason.  Over 1300 rooms are connected by corridors of varying width and direction and at times, are over 5 stories high.  Tile pipes were used to pipe usable water in while different pipes were used to take sewage out.

Controversially, this city was excavated and restored by Arthur Evans in the early 1900s.  He rebuilt walls and painted the exteriors as he believed they had looked.  I must admit it did help envisioning what the city once looked like with these reconstructions, but unfortunately they are causing many problems.  The built up walls are causing the ancient walls below to sink and crumble.  Parts now have to be reinforced or cordoned off to protect them.

The third day, October 14, we packed up our rented car and headed into the wine country south and east of Iraklio.  The scenery was spectacular.  Vineyards covered rolling, rocky hills while mountains soared to the sky in the background.  We had set out with the goal of hitting a few wineries while checking out some of the small villages.  In the end, we managed to make it to one winery while getting to know some villages more intimately than desired.  We quickly found that one wrong turn in a village can get us winding down a narrow road, car mirrors scraping the buildings on both sides of us.  We took a few of these wrong turns, and soon found that we had to scrap our winery search to get to our villa.

Our villa was located in Prines, just outside the bigger college town of Rethymno.  We arrived there that evening, wandered (this time on foot, thankfully) through the narrow wandering street, to our villa, a beautifully renovated  house (Ottoman in origin, although the owner was not proud to admit that) with a gorgeous patio and upstairs porch where we were going to spend many hours eating and drinking local wine.

The next day, we left our villa after a late start and headed south (Rethymno and Iraklio are both located on the north side of the island).  We went to the Odigritias Monastery, where the Greeks fought off the Turks and the Germans at different points in their history.  The monastery was so picturesque and monks so hospitable, with the offering of some "Greek coffee" which tasted suspiciously like Turkish coffee...  We then headed to the nearby Agio Farago Gorge where we hiked into a beautiful, quiet beach accessible only by foot.  The day was warm and the Libyan Sea looked to tempting so my dad and I quickly changed into our swimsuits and jumped into the water.  Once in the water, we looked back at the shore and saw that we had more clothes on than over half the beachgoers there.  A good number of them were completely nude.  Even more shocking, so was my mom!  Just kidding, no she wasn't, but just curious if she is reading this...

We enjoyed the water, then bathed in the sun to dry off  (keeping on our clothes, we're family for goodness sake!) before heading out to check out the famous small town of Matala.  Nearby Matala was made famous by hippies, who in the 1960s-80s discovered this small town with a beautiful sandy beach and [rent-free] caves with a view carved out by Neolithic folk.  Jonie Mitchell added to the popularity in her album "Blue" where she talks about her own Matala cave-living experience.

Our last full day there, our fifth day, we headed to Hania, the second biggest city of Crete, also located on the northern coast.  Like Iraklio, Hania had a significant period which it was ruled under the Venetians.  Heavy fortifications, a harbor, and shipyards are still visible, left over from the Venetian time.  The fortifications did not keep the Ottomans out, though, and this city too fell to them in the 1400s. 

We then headed to Rethymno, our last chance to see our neighboring city where we enjoyed a final meal in Crete.  After seeing it on countless menus, I finally ordered the snails which we actually all enjoyed.  You really would not believe how much "meat" was inside of each snail.  They fill that shell up!

We were very sad to leave Crete, but excited about the prospect of spending some time in Istanbul before I headed back to school.  I took my parents to my new favorite shop in the Spice Bazaar for a "spice tasting."  We then headed to Suleymaniye Mosque, built on the order of Suleymaniye the Magnificent in 1550 by famed architect Sinan.  The mosque's architecture combined both Islamic and Byzantine (many elements were similar to the Byzantine Hagia Sofia) elements.  The inside was stunning and much different than the more famous Blue Mosque built 60 years later.  The tiles were simple, with more pinks,reds, and golds.  Together, they had a stunning effect.

We all headed off to Joe's house to grill-out and watch Bears football Sunday evening.  Except for the fact that it was 8pm and we were watching the first game, you would have thought we were in the States.  It was very sad to say good-bye to my parents.  My house seemed immediately empty.  It is funny, though, how quickly your own life takes over and before you know it, you are right back into it with your previous memories seeming like a distant, but special past.  As I say this, I am looking at my calendar and realizing they only left a week ago! 

The Lycian Way

My summer officially started with the arrival of my terrific friend, Linda.  Linda and I worked together at Tutta Bella Restaurant in Seattle before setting off on our careers.  I left for this teaching job while Linda was still in school studying elementary education.  This past spring, she flew out to Prague to complete her student teaching at the Prague British School.  It is funny how life turns out some times.  All of a sudden, it was easier to meet each other on this side of the world, which we did with Linda's two week visit to Turkey.



Day 1: Faralya

Linda arrived, spent a day here packing and preparing for the trail, then we took off for southwestern Turkey.  We arrived in Dalaman, a city with nothing more to offer than its airport, and left right away for the George House in Faralya.  The George House sits atop of a steep valley called Butterfly Valley.  Due to the fact that the valley is only accessible by boat or somewhat treacherous hike, this area was untouched until the 1960s.  Since then, it has been discovered by tourists and hikers and named for the butterflies and Jersey Tiger moths.

We arrived at our pansiyon, got a quick tour of the facilities and after a stern warning to stay to the trail markers ("or else we will have to come rescue you"), descended into the valley. The trail was steep enough at times to need ropes, which had been tied securely to the rocks for anyone who came by.  We finally made it to the bottom, hiked through the high growth until we came to the opening signalling the start of the sandy beach.  Bars dotted the beach selling water, soda, and beer.  Camps were set up on the higher area over the water.  Boats from nearby Olu Deniz were bobbing in the shallow water.  We quickly realized in our excitement to start our adventure, we forgot to bring swim gear.  We quickly stripped down to our sports bras and jumped in the beautiful clear waters of the Mediterranean, then went to grab a beer as we dried off before heading back up.  We made it back to the George House to see the beautiful sunset over the valley.

Day 2: Faralya to Kabak Beach

We took off for Kabak Beach the next morning.  Under the recommendation of the George House worker (whose name we forgot so we named Kat for our own reference), we decided to take the Coastal Trail rather than the Lycian Way trail to Kabak.  We followed the yellow and red trail markings through the pine forests along the sea.  Every once in a while, a beautiful beach tempted us to jump in, but the thought of hiking in wet clothes kept us going.  After 8 km of hiking, we finally caught view of the picturesque Kabak beach.  Our arrival was just in time, because the hangriness (anger or grumpiness caused by hunger) was hitting us.  Looking back at it now, the treks got much easier as we got in better walking shape, used to the heat and packs, and learned how to properly band-aid our feet for our shoes.  That being said, this first day's trek was still very enjoyable and scenic.  We found a pansiyon called Shambala located  on a hill overlooking the beach.  We sat down for a beer and toasted our first day's hike.  Then we headed down to the beach for a swim and little sunbathing (with plenty of sunscreen, no sunburns allowed!).  We ate that evening at the pansiyon.  The food was amazing.  Then we found some perfect stargazing chairs and did exactly that as the waves of the Mediterranean crashed below us.  It was a magical hour.  Only later as we were climbing into bed when a Scottish friend (who we we met earlier) yelled at our cabin "Happy Fourth girls!" did we realize that this was the Fourth of July.  Although we didn't realize we were celebrating it at the time, the stargazing over the Mediterranean was a beautiful way to celebrate our nation's holiday.

Day 3: Kabak Beach to Alinca to Gey

I had spent weeks before this trip putting together a first aid kit.  We had aloe, antiseptic, bug spray, chlorine for purifying water, bandaids, meds for pain, allergies, and diarrhea, and even a round of antibiotics.  We woke up this morning in Kabak covered with bug bites despite the fact that we slept under mosquito netting.  Unfortunately, I had completely overlooked packing calamine lotion or anything that would have given us some relief for the bug bites that continued to dot our bodies (more so poor Linda than mine).  Little did we know at the time, but we were days away from seeing a pharmacy or anything that could help out with this.

The hike to Alinca was uphill and stunning.  We decided to take the Lycian Way (which we would take for the rest of the trip), therefore following the red and white trail markers.  The Lycian Way is a 510 km trail spanning from Faralya (where we started) to Antalya nominated by the Sunday Times as a top ten best walk in the world.   We hiked up and up until Kabak beach was just a speck by the Mediterranean.  We hiked through the pine forests in the mountains, past beautiful rock faces.  As we ascended, we were able to see not just Kabak beach, but also Butterfly Valley and Olu Deniz (a popular tourist beach town) further behind.   

We finally arrived 750 meters higher in Alinca in the early afternoon after 7 km of trekking.  After our first two nights, I was a little disappointed and fearful that this trek was more touristy than I expected.  The next three days erased these fears and disappointment completely.  After Kabak and until we got to Patara, we were the only travelers on the road and in the towns.  All our interactions were with locals.  The town of Alinca was the first such  place.  The town was comprised of a handful of unassuming homes with a beautiful view of the ocean far below.  The nearest store or market was 8 kilometers away.  A sweet lady saw us hiking in and eagerly gestured for us to sit down at a picnic bench outside her home.  She brought us water and homemade ayran (first time trying this Turkish slightly-salty yogurt drink for Linda), then busied herself inside throwing together a lunch feast.  After serving us, she  pulled up a chair and proudly watched us woof down her food.  When we had set off that morning, the possibility of staying in Alinca was left open, but we quickly realized this would not be a good option.  As cute and hospitable as this lady was, we would have absolutely nothing to do for the remaining part of the day.  We therefore refilled our waterbottles, strapped on our packs, and said our good-byes to Alinca.

We then started a steep decline out of Alinca.  Uphill is never fun, but downhill is far worse.  The gravel slid under our feet.  With the added weight on our back, the danger seemed exponentially worse.  I slipped on some of the gravel and fell into a prickly bush.  We cleaned my scraped up hands immediately and got away with just a slivered, but uninfected hand.  A little later, Linda slipped on the gravel, but she too escaped without an injury.  At times we crossed rock slide paths, walking quietly and carefully.  There was no need to tell each other that a slip could easily be a long slide down gravel to what seemed like no end.  As we carefully set one foot after the other, we occasionally felt safe enough to look up and see goats grazing around us and the Mediterranean below us.  The ground finally evened out and we saw our first olive orchards on terraced land overlooking the sea.  We passed an old Ottoman cistern in one of these orchards.  Finally, the mosque of Gey came into our sight and we almost started running to the town.  We were hungry and tired after our 15 km day.  We walked in to this little farm town.  Roosters roamed freely.  Tractors were the transportation choice.  We found a small shop and sat down for a popsicle called a Twister, a beautiful treat Linda had discovered in Prague.  After gobbling down the popsicle, the store owner, a sweet young mother, came up to us and asked if we wanted to stay.  When we asked where, she pointed up above the shop.  A glance up revealed she was talking about a covered, but open porch over the shop.  Linda and I glanced at each other, shrugged, and said, sure.  We set down our packs and took a quick walk around the town to see if we could find some new socks (mine were too short and my heels were rubbing against my shoes) but found the only other small market in town had nothing.  Both markets were smaller than a gas station's back in the States.  We then returned, asked for some beers, got out some cards, and settled in to our home for the evening.  The town kids came out and played on the street in front of us and provided a perfect entertainment for the evening.  We had brought some mini Oreos with us.  We gave them a package and smiled as we saw them excitedly rip into them and divvy them up.

Day 4: Gey to Bel to Gavuragili

The open porch which allowed for great entertainment the night before did not seem so quaint in the morning.  At the first light of dawn, around 5am, we heard the call to prayer.  Then, for the next two hours, we heard the roosters.  Linda said it sounded like they were telling jokes back and forth, at times laughing at each other.  I thought it sounded like they were competing, trying to be the loudest and longest.  Each cock-a-doodle-doo was followed by another.  Sometimes they overlapped.  No matter what it sounded like, neither of us could sleep through this raucous.  Finally, as the morning light became intense and we kicked off our heavy blankets to sweat directly under the direct morning light, were we able to sleep for about two hours from 7-9am.

After breakfast, we set out for Bel, a short 6 km trek.  Compared to the day before, the hike was quite easy.  We passed by many more olive orchards and even more goats, the two main sources of income in this area.  The trek was a relatively easy one, despite the fact that we had to stop several times to find the trail.  There were parts of the Lycian Way that were very well marked, parts very poorly marked.  When we would get to portions that were poorly marked, much extra time was spent looking for waymarkers.  Not far out of Gey, we had such a difficult time that we actually threw our packs down so we were not lugging these things as we continued to widen our circle around the last seen marker.  In the end, we always did find the markers.  We arrived into Bel in the early afternoon.

Our initial plan had been to take an easier day that day, find a place to stay in Bel, then take a day hike to see the ancient city of Sidyma.  Our plans changed, though, once we got to Bel.  The town was very quiet and there were no signs for accommodations as we entered the town.  The town had no view of the ocean, but olive orchards stretched on the mountaintops around.  We heard some voices coming from under a grape arbor in front of a house and decided to go ask them where we might find some food.  As we entered, we saw an old lady sitting in a wheelchair, a group of middle aged women and men, and three young children all sitting around talking and drinking tea.  I asked if there was a place for food and was told there was no restaurant in this town.  The man then turned to the woman of the house, said a few things, then turned to us and said, but we will feed you.  They sat us down.  The same man who invited us in (and knew some English) scurried off and returned with two boys around 14 years of age.  We were the entertainment.  We tried to talk a little in English and Turkish, but neither side knew enough of the other language to really have a conversation.  Then the food was served and everything went silent.  We ate and 8 sets of eyes just stared at us.  I turned to Linda and said "we are not staying here."  Despite the uncomfortable attention, the food hit the spot and we enjoyed the meal.  As we ate, conversation did start and our discomfort was eased.  They then served us tea and happily refilled all our water bottles.  With the exception of the 5 minutes under scrutiny, it was another terrific stop at the home of very hospitable Turks.  We again gave the kids some mini Oreos and watched them dive into the package.  We had to make the lady take our 30 lira for the food.  She just wanted to keep 10 (about $5).

Since we had decided over lunch that we were moving on, we strapped the packs on and headed out of Bel for the next town of Gavuraligi.  The hike was another downhill climb similar to the Alinca-Gey trek.  We came to a house on the walk and a young, sweet lady (we later learned her name was Fatma) met us and invited us in for a drink.  We knew we had not yet hiked the 10 km to Gavuraligi, but thought sitting for an ayran sounded nice.  When we asked how much further to Gavuraligi, we were shocked to hear her say that we were here.  Our improvement in endurance and strength became apparent.  We had just completed this tough downhill trek in less than 2.5. hours.  After some ayran and the absorption of this news, we decided to stay at this pansiyon.  Since we had trekked so far (another 16 km day in 100 degree weather), we had the luxury of staying there for two nights.  We dropped our things off and took off for the Gavuraligi beach.  We spent the evening there on the rocky beach and watched the sun set behind the beach before heading up for food at our pansiyon.

Day 5: the Turkish beach

Since we had a day that we did not need to travel, we decided to go to a nearby sandy beach near Pydnai.  Someone from the pansiyon dropped us off.  It took us only a minute of surveying the beach scene that we were the only foreigners.  Turkish beach-goers were all around us.  Men ran around in swim trunks, while ladies in their peasant bloomers and head scarves went in the water fully clothed.  Funny enough, the little girls ran around in their little bikinis.  After spending a few hours in the beach, we headed up to the beach cafe for some food and beers before trekking back to the pansiyon.  We were met at the pansiyon with a feast of fish, wine, and great company from the owners and their little five-year-old Bahar.  In conversation, it came up how much Linda loved the village bloomers.  Fatma disappeared into the house and emerged with a pair of homemade ones, a gift for Linda. 

Day 6: Letoon to Xanthos to Patara

We again got a ride from the pansiyon to the nearby ruins of Letoon.  We walked through the ancient chapels, one still containing a mosaic, and later built church, and theater, before moving on.  We then grabbed our packs and headed for Xanthos, a 4 km trek past greenhouse after greenhouse of vegetables.  Along the way, we saw the first pharmacy on the entire trek and finally got some ointment for the bug bites.  Xanthos was a bigger city set up on the hill overlooking modern day Kinik. Xanthos is recorded as the largest city in the Lycian League.  It later passed through the hands of the Persians, then Greeks, and finally Romans.  Most of the remains seen today were from the Romans, but some still remain from the ancient Lycians.  We walked past the ancient walls, the gymnasium, theater, homes, agora, and ancient tombs.

Linda and I then caught a dolmus to Patara, our final location and the official end to our trek.  We toasted this with mojitos at a nearby outdoor bar and a big Turkish dinner with mezes and guvec (a delicious Turkish casserole).


Day 7: Patara

We started the day with a massage by "Magic Hands Ali,"a thorough hour long massage for a mere 50 TL($25).   We wandered over to the Patara ruins and were astounded by the size and quality of them.  Each stop, Letoon, then Xanthos, and finally Patara, seemed to be getting bigger and better.  Like Xanthos, Patara was an important city in the Lycian League, carrying the most votes and holding meetings for the officials in their convention hall.  We walked through the city gates, old main street, several old baths, the theater, and convention center.  Like Xanthos, Patara passed from Lycian to Greek, then Roman hands.

Afterwards, the heat of the day caught up with us (well over 100 degree days) and we decided to not head to the beach, but rather head back to the AC and take a nap, then went to a local restaurant for dinner.  Earlier that day, as we were passing through town, we had met this restaurant owner.  He asked us to help him with the English and spelling for the billboards he wanted in front of the restaurant.  We helped him with it, then decided to return to try out this menu.  Upon sitting, I was confused to see the same exact menu (with the exception that it was more poorly worded) across the street.  Linda just nodded knowing.  She had seen this as we were writing his menu earlier.  The owner had written the same exact menus as the restaurant across the street.  There were two set menus plus free garlic bread, all on wood fire.  I was surprised, then just had to laugh it off.  You had to give it to this guy.  At least he wasn't trying to put this neighbor out of business.  Even the prices were the exact same.

Our server that evening did his best to impress us.  When we refused dessert, he said he wanted to give us complimentary fruit.  Five minutes passed, and I saw one of the younger kid employees come back from an errand with a bag of fruit.  This guy was working so hard to please us he had sent the kid out to get some fruit just for us.  You have to love it.  We had to work hard to stifle our laughter as the same fruit now cut up appeared on the table 2 minutes later.  We then went to get some gozleme, (Turkish pancake) and tea.  We had my favorite, lemon and sugar.  It was a lovely relaxing evening.


Day 7: Patara

We woke up early and headed out to the Patara beach.  It was stunning.  The sand spanned further than we could see.  We negotiated for some cheaper umbrellas and chairs since we had to leave for the airport that afternoon, then spent a few hours getting our last fill of the Mediterranean before catching the bus for Dalaman and the airport.

A dolmus took us to the main road where we caught our bus.  The bus ride was nice and air-conditioned.  The bus assistant let us know when we got to Dalaman.  As we got out and saw just a strip mall along the highway, we turned to him one last time.  Dalaman? we asked somewhat panicked.  He nodded.  Nothing we could do but look at each other and laugh.  We had been hoping to get some food before heading to the airport, but there was nothing but toast, which didn't appeal to either of us.  So instead we grabbed some snacks at a little shop and took a 45TL flat rate cab ride to the airport.  After what seemed like a 5 minute ride, we pulled in to the ancient airport and we sadly handed over a 50 TL.  The driver told us he had no change.  We gave him the eyes saying "that's your problem buddy."  He ran into the airport, went through security, ran up to the airlines counters and found nothing.  We waited.  He came running back out.  We continued to wait.  He ran down some stairs and emerged 5 minutes later, this time victoriously.  He gave us our 5TL.  Linda later told me she almost gave it back to him, "you keep it buddy."  We walk in, two hours before our flight back to Istanbul, and the desk was not open.  The sign saying kafeterya was inside the security, so we have to sit on the other side of this hell hole of a place and open our snacks.  Unfortunately, we have chosen poorly on our snacks and the food does little to satisfy us.  We stare at the counter until it finally opens up, about 45 minutes before our flight.  We check in and pass through security.  By this time, Dalaman has just become a joke for us all.  Linda had a friend who would say "It's over Dave," which we had changed to say "It's over Dali," our unaffectionate name for the town.  Unfortunately it was not yet over.  Once we got through, we saw our plane was delayed.  Luckily this ever optimistic duo just kept their heads up, spotted some beer, and plunked down there.  Eventually the plane did in fact leave, and we finally could say "It's over Dali."



Istanbul

Back in Istanbul, Linda and I played it easy for the first few days.  My close college friend, Verti and her boyfriend Evan were in town for a conference.  We met them in Taksim, avoiding the protests that were going on around us.  We hosted them the following night for a grand fish barbeque on campus overlooking the Bosporus.  We also did some sightseeing.  We ventured over to Asia and checked out Kadikoy, and ventured to the Old City sights of Chora Church, the Hagia Sofia, Grand Bazaar, and Spice Bazaar.  I gave Linda one last important Turkish experience of stopping at a Turkish bath for a scrub and massage, before sadly sending her on her way back.

A quick update

Istanbul and the rest of Turkey has settled down greatly.  Protesters have found that they can meet in small groups without being bothered, so meetings in local parks in the evening have become common.  Occasionally, larger protests will break out in Taksim, but the police response has been toned down after the international scrutiny.  This is not to say that the protest movement nor the government's harsh response has lessened.  Erd and his cronies are scanning through all the Gezi and protest related tweets and arresting anyone they deem is a terrorist, after all, these protests were of course the work of terrorists, according to Erd.  They are also demanding that Facebook release all information on their users.  At the moment, Facebook is refusing.  Most likely, Facebook will either be blocked or they will end up relenting.  Out of this social media surfing, a conservative newspaper accused the American teachers at our school for not only bringing students to the protest, but also intimidating those students who refused.  An absurd accusation with not surprisingly, no evidence except for a tweet from one of our grads telling fellow alums to come to Gezi and a picture of a group of our students marching down the streets in Istanbul (not even in Taksim where the protests have occurred) without any sign, shirts, anything showing that they might be protesting.  No teacher was in the picture.


I am officially done with school.  These last few weeks I have been busy attending meetings, my final classes, graduation, and the last good-bye meals for our departing colleagues.  I was able to sneak away for a quick weekend in Buyukada, an island just a short ferry ride away.  In a few days, I head to southern Turkey with my great friend Linda to hike the Lycian Trail.  Then back to the great U S of A for three weeks.  Then back to Istanbul for one more year of teaching.

Gezi Park

Before I get into the latest of Turkey, I want to let you know there are few changes to my blog.  The leader of this "democracy" will now be called by his first three letters of his surname, Erd.  I have also removed all mention of the place I work for.  Although I am acting and speaking completely independently, I don't want the governing party to have the opportunity to disregard that fact and use anything I say against my workplace.  I am also going to be a little less forthcoming with giving my opinion.  I will try to give you all the information you know and let you come to your own opinions.

On Saturday, I headed out to Gezi Park with several colleagues to see it all in person.  Although clashes between the police and protesters have been and still are occurring all over Turkey, in Istanbul the police have completely pulled out of the protesting areas leaving the city fairly quiet and peaceful.  The five of us took the metro, which is once again running as normal, and emerged in the center of the transformed park.  It was an amazing sight to see.  Tent after tent stretched in all directions.  Tired college students dozed in front of signs advertising Free Hugs and Marijuana Permitting Tents.  For some of my older colleagues, the entire Gezi scene reminded them much of the protests of the 60s.

For a country that has not impressed me by its organization, I was astounded by what these protesters put together in less than a week.  In the center stood a large First Aid Tent and a Supply Tent, doling out blankets, toilet paper, and such.  Occupiers were coming up to it as we walked by, turning in their blankets they had used for the night.  Other supporters were donating supplies.  As we continued to walk, we came upon a road block that was covered in half used bottles of vinegar, whole lemons, and a several bottles containing a cloudy substance, all items used to fight the effects of tear gas.  Written in big letters on this road block is "Eczane" or "Pharmacy."   

A little further down, we came to the Gezi Vegetable Garden.  Dedicated gardeners were already at it, expanding the garden with what must be donated plants from more supporters.  We then came to a Children's Drawing Tent, where kids were busy making their own pieces of art.  We saw the famous Gezi library which was not much more than some donated book shelves and books.  I was happy to see the donations still flowing in.  I was even more happy to see some of the occupiers perusing the books.

The most fascinating part of the experience was actually talking to the protesters.  We talked to the gardener who was a very well-spoken and intelligent young man.  He talked a little about how it has been occupying the park the last few days.  After the police left, he said the park started to become like a festival.  Musicians were coming and performing regularly.  This happened for a few days until the leaders of the Gezi protesters decided this was not the kind of tone they wanted to set and asked them to leave.  He talked openly about the fact they don't know exactly what they want.  There is no leader for them to back.  They don't believe Erd is willing to make the changes they are demanding, but have nobody to turn to who will.

We also ran into a group of college students sitting under tents advertising "Chapulcu School."  He says they lay out mats on the floor and bring out a white board to start the instruction.  We offered to help teach and he laughed, saying he has over 20 teachers, but only 4 students and instead offered to teach us Turkish.

As we headed out of the park towards Taksim, we saw a huge stage that had been set up.  In a smaller stage, a man with a microphone had caught the attention of many and a group had gathered around him.  I wish I could tell you what he was saying, but just as I did many of the protesters' signs, I cluelessly walked by.

As we got to the edge of Taksim Square, the first signs of the protester and police stand-off became evident.  Several police vehicles which had been left by the police were damaged and covered in graffiti.  A small building which had been burned (you may have seen it on TV), now was covered in graffiti.  Nearby in an unharmed small building, a chapulcu museum had been started.  Inside the little two room building, pictures and slogans, some with little explanations, were covering the walls.

We continued to inch our way towards Taksim Square and Istiklal Caddessi, the long pedestrian walk famous to tourists and locals alike for food, shopping, and entertainment.  Life seemed a little more normal here.  Shoppers were going in and out of shops.  The normal vendors were on the streets.  That being said, the protesters had and still were making their mark on this famous area.  Groups marched down the streets.  Whereas the Gezi occupiers all seemed to fit a similar college student mold, the protesters on the streets showed more of the diversity of the movement.  Covered women, older couples, and children were all together marching down the street.  They marched by the graffitied walls (although the store fronts were largely untouched) and Ataturk paraphernalia-selling vendors.

Right now, this Gezi Park I described from Saturday is much changed.  This morning, police went into Taksim with water cannons and tear gas.   The police stayed out in Taksim Square, leaving the park and occupiers alone (although not without scaring them).  On TV, it appears the police found a group of rioters in Taksim who wanted to fight back.  These masked protesters were wearing helmets and throwing things back at the police.  The leaders of the Gezi movement have come out and said that these people were not members of their own group.  Many say that the "rioters" are in fact undercover police, an attempt to undermine the movement and give it bad publicity.  I will let you come up with your own opinion on that.

This afternoon, police invaded a courtroom and arrested lawyers who were announcing a press release for the Gezi Protests.  Over 50 lawyers were arrested.

As we approach the end of the week...

One week ago today, some Turks set up camp at Gezi Park to peacefully protest its demolition for yet another mall.  That next morning, Turkish police woke them up with tear gas and water cannons and forced them out, then rounded up their belongings to burn.  Little did they know what they were starting.

One week later, the country of Turkey is still erupting.  Cities all over Turkey have joined in the fight.  Scenes of water cannons and tear gas, as well as police beatings and other brutality can be seen via Youtube in over a dozen Turkish cities.  In the Mediterranean city of Antalya, the municipality did not allow the police to hook up their hoses to their hydrants, leaving the police without their water cannons. In the Prime Minister's hometown of Rize, supporters of Erd clashed with the protesters.  As of today, three protesters and one policeman (who fell off a bridge chasing protesters) are dead, their deaths all occurring outside of Istanbul.

Meanwhile, Istanbul has been comparatively quiet, but that isn't to say that it has not been busy.  Protesters are still taking to the street in just as big of numbers.  It's just their resistance, the police, has backed down.  Police are no longer stepping in.  Gezi Park and surrounding Taksim has become a big festival.  Musical groups perform.  Yoga classes take place under the saved trees.  A library out of cinder blocks has started in Gezi Park, with book donations pouring in.  A massive fundraising effort to raise money for a full page ad in the NYT was started.  They reached their goal easily, and money continues to pour in. Trade unions have joined the protest, calling strikes for their workers.  They have embraced the name chapul (after Erd called them this meaning looters) and made it into a popular youtube video for the movement (if you do watch it, the penguin clip in the middle comes from CNN Turk when they broadcast penguins instead of the protests over the first weekend).

This is not to say that Erd has backed down.  A few days ago, police rounded up a couple dozen protesters for tweeting "misinformation."   Plain-clothed cops are rumored to have infiltrated the protester grounds, trying to create havoc and destruction.  One group of cops were supposedly filmed destroying an ATM.  Erd is expected back today, although no one is sure when or where.  We are all holding our breath.  The peace has come from the police backing down.  Erd, though, is not one to back down.  Of course, worry about civil war is on everyone's mind.  Erd stated earlier when the protests first broke out "If this is about holding meetings, if this is a social movement, where they gather 20, I will get up and gather 200,000 people.  Where they gather 100,000, I will bring together one million from my party."  Erd still has plenty of supporters, particularly in the more conservative countryside.  We all fear the end this man might go to avoid compromise.  The clash in Rize between supporters and protesters could be just the start.

As time goes by here, I get more and more paranoid and worried about what I am writing.  All I am trying to do is get my story out there.  I want people to see my experience and my truth.  I am not trying to incite any kind of action, except for a passing on of knowledge.  As an American, this has always been a right to me.  I am seeing how it feels when that liberty is threatened.  I wake up in the middle of the night thinking about how I should have worded this that way or should not have included this.  I constantly reread my work to make sure it would not be taken to mean anything that could get me into trouble.  It's frightening and stifling being in this environment.  I understand why the Turks are "chapulling." I hope I can help get the story out there.

Ataturk's People Speak Out

I almost feel part of it.  Although I have stayed away from the protests that started four days ago, I see the bleary eyes of the Turkish youth who protested all night.  I join thousands, maybe millions, of the Istanbul residents at 9pm as we take pots, pans, spoons and clank them together outside our windows, signalling we are all together in this resistance.  I hear the protesters as they near the water, their voices swept up the Bosporus towards me.  I watch as boatloads of protesters head down the Bosporus to join the rest.  I hear the helicopter constantly overhead, which I see on the news is circling the protesters in what they believe to be an intimidation attempt by the government.

Before I get into any more, I think it is important to understand the history of the Turkish Republic.  Although it may not seem so now, it was actually a very progressive government when it was established.  After World War I, the Ottoman Empire was dismantled and occupied by the Allies.  Young Mustafa Kemal, a commander of the Ottoman Empire Army, organized what was left of his units and successfully expelled the Allies from the new country of Turkey.  Kemal, who later earned himself the nickname of Ataturk, father of the Turks, became the first President.  As the leader, he established a constitution using many Western countries as models, modernized the country, secularized the government, granted full political rights to women (before several Western European nations did), made primary education free and compulsory, and lightened the burden of taxation for the poor.  Considering this was all done in the 1920s and 1930s, Turkey was not just ahead of its time in the Middle East, but also the rest of the world.

When I first got here, I was a little put-off by the almost god-like status Ataturk received.  Statues and busts of him are everywhere.  Every classroom and business has to have at least one photo of him.  Once a group of teachers started making bets about how many pictures or statues of Ataturk there were in our school alone.  Guesses started at the upper 100s and went as high as 500.  Ataturk seemed to be everywhere and everyone seemed to love this guy.  He seemed invincible.  At least I thought.

Then, many top military officials got arrested for supposedly plotting a coup.  Other military officials resigned in protest.  Prime Minister Tayyip Erd shrugged his shoulders and found his own guys to replace them.  Turks got worried.  Here in Turkey, the people had gotten used to the system of Kemalism.  The military (where Ataturk came from) was the check on the government to make sure things stayed in balance.  When the government got out of hand, the military always stepped in and restored order.  Of course, the rest of the Western world saw the decrease in power for the military as a good thing.  I do not disagree with this.  Unfortunately, no check seemed to be left on this conservative government.

Then journalists started getting jailed.  Lots of them.  Again, Turks got worried.  Like the previous situation, though, nothing actually happened.

Then, it seemed like on almost a weekly basis, news came of another bothering story.  A famous pianist was jailed for tweeting "disrespectful" remarks about the call to prayer and heaven (after a short call to prayer, the pianist joked the imam must either have a mistress or some raki waiting, the other tweet was very similar in style). A Turkish Armenian writer was sentenced to jail for insulting the Prophet Muhammad. 

Then, there were rumors that cafes on the street (in Taksim where most of the Istanbul nightlife occurs) would be shut down.  Then it happened.  There were rumors that the sale of alcohol would be limited.  Then it happened (these may seem like small changes, but if you keep in mind the conservative v secular battle going on, you can understand the intensified fears).  The track record of these rumors actually coming true scared me because each following stories seemed worse.  If this continued, up next the rule banning female students from wearing head scarves would be overturned (a political move, since Ataturk first created this ban to allow women to be equal members of society).  Then the abortion ban.  Finally, the scariest rumor yet, Erd would change the constitution.  His last term as Prime Minister is ending.  To get around this, he will change the constitution so the parliamentary system becomes a presidential one, allowing him to rule as President until 2023.

During this time, Ataturk started to become a symbol to those wanting to resist the current government.  Slowly, Erd took away the laws established under their founder.  Slowly, the public celebrations for Ataturk became less grand under this regime.  Therefore, the people in opposition to Erd tried to make Ataturk into this god.  This is what I was seeing, without understanding the full picture.  Ataturk wasn't a god to them, he was a great leader who had become a political statement.

In less than two years, I had seen enough to understand the fear in my friends and colleagues eyes.   My Turkish neighbors just needed an excuse to get together and realize the strength in their numbers.

Last Friday morning, Turkish police cleared out a peaceful sit-in, a group trying to protect the last green space of the Taksim area in Istanbul.  The police brought out tear gas, water cannons, and burned the tents and protesters' belongings.  The first  I heard of this was that Friday evening, when a friend headed to that area told me public transportation to that area had been stopped (the government was trying to isolate the problem by stopping all public transportation to the area.)  We talked about how inconvenient this was, not realizing what this was.

The next morning, I awoke to a new world.  The city seemed to be erupting.  At 5am, protesters got around the lack of public transportation by marching across the giant Asia-Europe bridge to get to the resistance movement's center of Taksim.  This bridge is usually not a pedestrian walk, but thousands of people at 5am can change that.  In fact, this happened all over the city.  Although Erd shut down all public transportation, people got there on their own two feet.  Or piled on a rented boat on the Bosporus.  Thousands met up in Taksim.  Then as their numbers continued to grow, they moved and added locations on the Asian side and closer to me, Besiktas.  I stayed at home, but observed what I could out my window and through my computer screen.  The Turkish news had stayed completely quiet on news coverage (another sign of the lack of freedom of press here), but facebook was abuzz with the latest. 

Monday came.  Over social media those in support of the movement had been instructed to wear black to show our support.  Students came to school in black, Turkish flags flying, pictures of Ataturk pinned to them.  The kids were bleary eyed, excited, and tired.  We started our Monday as we always do, with a flag ceremony, an assembly for announcements and the national anthem.  The headmaster started with a speech.  He told the students that these are emotional times.  In these emotional times, it is easy to act on these emotions.  He warned that the they must remember to act thoughtfully, rather than emotionally.  Remember to think. Without ever mentioning what was going on the outside world, he wished them luck in whatever they thoughtfully put their mind to.


So what is next?  I honestly have no prediction as to what will happen.  A major reason for this uncertainty is the uncertainty of the protesters.  Although they are demanding Erd to resign, they don't have a plan as to what would happen after this.  And to even get to this stage, why are they asking him to resign?  He was the democratically elected leader.  Has he done anything unconstitutional to warrant this demand?  I would like to say yes, but I do not know the Turkish Constitution so am in no place to say anything.  If he is in no Constitutional wrong, it seems that there is a fundamental problem with the Constitution, for this is not a Democratic country.  People must watch what they say or fear imprisonment. They are not free to peacefully demonstrate.  This weekend, Erd stated "There is now a menace which is called Twitter...The best examples of lies can be found there.  To me, social media is the worst menace to society."  Sounds like Erd has finally found a voice he cannot silence.  The question is, what will the voice say next? 

Spring 2013

Year two of teaching seems to be quickly wrapping up.  I have a little over a month left of school, most of that finals and graduation obligations.  The last few months have flown by for several reasons.  For one, the weather is finally turning into summer, which always means happier faces and better times, which means for a quicker hour and day.  Second, I have been busy.  I have gone on several weekend trips which makes for wonderful times, but frantic weeks catching up and then getting ahead for the next escape.

The first trip took place in April, one week after my mom left Istanbul following my Spring Break and Jordan Trip.  Three friends and colleagues and I headed to Iznik for a 10k run (part of a bigger Ultra run).  Iznik is a few hour ferry ride across the Sea of Marmara, then another couple hours on bus.  Erin, Darcy, Shirin, and I headed out after school Friday on the service bus with 5-day boarders headed across the waters to their parents for the weekend.  We spent Saturday checking out the amazing Iznik ceramic work.  Iznik tiles are the claim to fame of the world renowned Blue Mosque and many other famous Turkish architectural pieces.  Stores filled with tiles, plates, bowls, ceramic jewelry, and much more lined the streets and we happily stopped by each of the shops, often chatting with the artist him/herself who proudly showed off favorite pieces.  We had to pull one shopkeeper/artist from her art space in the back who came in wiping the wet clay off her hands, eager to show off her work.

The next day, we woke early to run our 10K.  As I said, the 10K was the smaller event of the weekend.  The Ultra was the big event.  It was hard to allow myself to get nervous for a 10k as I watched people hobble in and out of the hotel from their 130k run.  Despite this, we had a great time and all were very happy with our finishes.  I came in 7th among the women, which I was particularly happy with since I had not trained as much as I would have liked.  Shirin, Darcy, then Erin finished in that order, all running the whole way which was the group goal.  The run was very enjoyable, through the town, by the ancient walls, and along Lake Iznik.  Locals lined the street, children danced and played instruments.  It was a wonderful event.  Of course, we couldn't forget this was Turkey.  As we lined up to race, several runners had their pre-race morning smoke.  I saw one take a break in the 10k to light up at least one more time.

The next big trip happened a few weekends later in May.  I went with my colleagues Heather and Erin to Antep (also known as Gaziantep, or "Antep the War Hero" which was changed after the post-WWI resistance in Antep to the Allied occupiers) with the ultimate goal of seeing Mount Nemrut.  We flew out Saturday morning to the southeastern city which is less than 100 km from Aleppo, Syria.  We started the visit by a stop at the famous Mosaic Museum.  In the 1980s, the Ataturk Dam was built on the Euphrates River.  Bordering this river, though, were beautiful Roman houses of the ancient wealthy, who had stunning mosaic floors.  Before flooding these houses with the dam project, these precious mosaics were lifted into this museum. Before moving to Turkey, I was not particularly fond of mosaics.  I guess you can say I did not have an appreciation for these pieces of art.  Walking through this museum, I have been changed.  These mosaic artists were so masterful with the natural stone (no dyes were used) they were able to create 3D effects, shading and incorporate this all in their elaborate scenes and designs.

After wandering this museum, we headed to some nation-renowned food.  We all had some delicious kebab and baklava before heading out to Mount Nemrut.  The trip to Mount Nemrut was estimated to take about 4 hours from Gaziantep.  We therefore left at one so we could make it there in plenty of time to see the sunset over the ancient heads.  The voyage out there was beautiful and we stopped for many photo-ops.  It rained on and off, with one heavy downpour at the beginning of our trip.  Little did we realize how this was going to affect us.  Our first sign that we could possibly be headed into trouble was when Heather's GPS told us to turn onto "unpaved road."  No other name was provided.  The next sign was when we actually left the known roads of her GPS.  We asked several shepherds along the way and they all continued to point us down this mud road.  The third sign that we were headed to trouble was the fact that no matter how much further we traveled, each herder told us just 10 more kilometers.  So we continued down this muddy road along the side of the valley.  Just as we came into the view of the town of our pension house, we came upon a van stuck in the mud.  They waved at us as we approached and told us we could not go any further (I just want to remind you we are trying to communicate all this in Turkish, so when I say they told us not to go further, I really mean we believe they told us not to go further).  As we tried to voice disagreement seeing that we have done okay in the mud, we are so close, and we really don't want to turn back, the other passengers wave us to come forward and look at the road around the corner.  That's where we see it.  There is no road.  It has been washed away.  We must head back.  After offering help to our angels, we do, find a nice paved marked road that, although is not as direct, gets us there easily.  By this time, it is 7:30, 2.5 hours after we expected to arrive.  We get a glimpse of the sunrise just as we pull in to our pension house, thus missing our sunset over Mount Nemrut.  We are fed at our pension house and go to bed early to get up for sunrise.

We awake at 4:30am, bundle up, and head out to Mount Nemrut.  We park towards the top of the mountain and join the 50 or so other Turkish tourists in making the last part of the ascent.  As soon as we reached the summit, we came to the famous heads of Mount Nemrut.  In 64-38 BCE, King Antochius I Theos, ruler of the Commagene kingdom, had these three terraces built on the top of the mountain.  In these terraces, he had large statues of himself with the Persian and Greek gods sitting in a row of thrones.  Today, the bodies still sit there in the thrones, with there heads, long since fallen off after earthquakes and wear, lying below.  Between the terraces, a giant mound of rocks had been built up by man.  Rumor has it the King Antochius is buried there.

We all reached the top and took our pictures, trying to stay warm in the damp, cold, and windy conditions on the summit.  The surrounding fog obscured the sunrise, but created a mystical experience.

After our picture taking and wandering, we headed back down for a cup of chai, a big breakfast, and a nap before heading back to Gaziantep.  We do learn from our mistakes and stuck to the big roads leading back and arrived back in Gaziantep with no adventure to talk about.  We had a few hours to enjoy in the city before heading back.  We checked out the city museum, which talked about the city's role in the war for independence, the pistachios, baklava, and their artists.  We then headed to the streets to go support these industries.  We bought some local pistachios, baklava, dried apricots (grown in nearby Malatya), homemade leather shoes, and copper goods before sprinting back to the airport just in time to make our flight.

This past Friday, we had our school's Olympics in celebration to Ataturk's holiday, Youth and Sports Day.  We started the day with a "marathon" which had to be no more than 4k, but was brutal since it took us up and down the campus hill.  For you Chicagoans, I have no hill in that area to even compare it to.  For Seattle friends, imagine running down then up a steeper version of Stone Way for 4 kilometers.  I was the first to finish the marathon for the girls and earned myself a medal.  More impressive are the male teachers who flew in before me.  We have some amazing athletes on our staff.  After the marathon, we had a flag football game, teachers versus students.  The students beat us handedly...I want to add a but at the end of that last sentence, but can't think of anything positive to say about our performance.  Jake, the flag football coach, has taught these Turks to play the game too well.  In the closing ceremony, our headmaster who is an ex-pro football player, but unfortunately battling injuries that kept him on the sideline, spoke of our embarrassing loss and promised he would be there next year.  If we lost again next year, he pointed to our female dance team in their red dresses who had performed at the ceremony, we would be wearing those and doing the dancing.  Later, students told him that I (the only female on the team) would be the only one who could possibly look good doing that.  Don't know how to take that.  Especially since they have not yet seen my lack of dance skills yet.

After flag football, I headed into the gym to play a basketball game against the students.  I can happily report that the teachers edged the students by 3 points.  It was a great game.  The boys and girls teams represented the student team, which I was very happy to see, all sharing time.  Several of my girls players hit some big shots in the battle.  

During these events, others were going on as well.  Soccer matches, volleyball, tug of war, long donkey (a Turkish specialty).  It was a great time had by all who went.  Of course, at our school not all students are into the whole athletic and even outdoor scene.  Whenever a bug flies into my classroom, utter pandemonium results.  A good percentage of the students didn't come today and I heard that there were other students who just spent their time in the library.  It seems crazy to me since I could not imagine a better day.  In the afternoon, we had a ceremony where all the student-athletes are recognized.  I called up my girls team and recognized the MVP and Most Improved Players.  Then left and spent 1.5 days of not moving recovering from the hours of sport-playing my body can no longer do.

On Sunday, I was finally able to move my limbs without excruciating pain, so I dragged myself to a farm with a group of colleagues and students.  The farm is owned by a school alum Murat, who planned a day of eating, harvesting, and relaxing at his homestead.  The surrounding scenery was beautiful.  Cows and sheep wandered through the backyard that we relaxed and feasted in, behind it was a grove of hazelnut and cherry trees.  A little further, we came to fields of sloping crops.  We hiked to Murat's field and filled our baskets with peas and garlic which we later brought back with us.  It was a wonderful way to escape the craziness of the city, hang out with friends, and dig into nature.

It's been a crazy few months and then last month I know will be no less crazy.  As I get more used to teaching, I am more willing to take the short weekend trips.  This country seems to have an endless amount of places and landmarks to see.  Items on my list to see seem to be getting added faster than I can cross them off.   Although I love this bustling city, it is also nice to get away from it. 

There are definitely still parts of Turkey, and more specifically Istanbul, that I struggle with.  I am happy to extend my time here so I can continue to see more amazing places, but can't imagine calling Istanbul my permanent home.  Some of my reasons are petty and cultural, the way people dress, the way people can spoil their children, the way people drive, the way people can't wait in line.  This list can go on.  Then there are some more serious problems.  The way I can be treated because I am a young foreign female.  There are problems all over the world, but Turkey is wrong if they don't address the fact that women here are still mistreated.  When I am alone, I don't feel ever in danger, but I have been harassed by men saying very inappropriate things and touching me.  I am not alone in these experiences.  Although it is a minority of men who behave in such a way, I think that overall there is not enough of a general pressure here to stop this indecent, violating, and sexist behavior.  I think this problem is exponentially bigger in some more conservative countries in the area where women have even less a say.  We hear these horrendous stories in the news every once in a while.  I am only getting a small taste of this indecent treatment of women.  Despite this, it doesn't make it all right.  Turkey should be a world leader for women's rights.  They had the lead in the early 1900s.  In the 1920s, Ataturk changed this country.  Women were given equal rights to vote and education.  At the time, they were way ahead of the times.  Why, then, has/is Turkey taking these steps back?  Slowly, the tide is changing here and I don't see these problems getting solved.  In fact, I think they might just get worse unless the great people of this country start waking up and making a stand.