Misundercommunication and Sharing

Wakey wakey!

It's time for another post. Yay!

This time, it will be about the joys of living in a country where people don't speak your language quite as well as you'd hope...and sharing.

About 1 1/2 hours ago I was reading some articles on the Political Economy of Developing Nations for the class of the same title when I began to fall asleep. I was on my bed, so it wasn't completely unexpected. I decided that I had been relatively productive today, so I put my reader aside, set my alarm, and passed out. My alarm went off (seemingly FAR too quickly), so I turned it off and kept on sleeping. Suddenly, I woke up, thinking, "Oh no! I've overslept my mini-nap. I'm going to be soooooo tired!" Lo and behold, I had slept for an hour and was just entering a hearty REM cycle. Sleep had come over me and, much like a scene from the original Invasion of the Bodysnatchers circa 197?, it wasn't letting go. I forced myself out of bed and was immediately struck by an intense and powerful craving for something - anything - sweet. I've been eating pretty health-ily here and don't have much in the way of sweets - only peanut butter and jelly really, so I definitely didn't want that.

I opened my door and saw one of my sweet roomates named Turkan (Turk-anne). Following her into the kitchen, I plopped down into an uncomfortable molded plastic chair like the pathetic shell of a man to which I had been reduced and said, "Turkan, I need something sweet. Do you have something sweet that I can have?" She acted immediately, bending down to open one of her food drawers, popped up, and presented me with a pre-packaged, single-serving of Nescafe Cafe Latte. I looked up at her and said, "So do you have anything sweet?" She replied, "Sweet." Dejectedly, I accepted my fate and continued to sit slouched in my faded-yellow chair.

Turkan saw how grim I looked and noted, "Fest weekend?" meaning, "festive." I replied that it hadn't really been, but the weekend had indeed been fast at least. "Well, it's cold outside. So be careful, ok?" I raised my eyes to hers. In her final gesture of compassion before leaving the kitchen, she gazed at me with pity and said, "It's ok, Jess. You will be better."

As she left, I sighed a massive sigh, wondering where I had misspoken. I couldn't figure it out, so I made myself an open-faced PB & J, topping it off with some cold milk. It was delicious.



To continue any semblance of a story right now would possible be too taxing for my tired corpse. Thus, I will simply say that I have only experienced extreme generosity in Turkey, not only towards myself as a newcomer to the University neighbourhood, but also between the Turks themselves. As I rode home yesterday from my first football (American football) game (I'll save that for another post), I saw many players taking out packets of cookies, bananas, oranges, chocolate, candy bars, and chips. Each one possessing such wonderous post-game fodder opened his sachet, ate some, and then proceeded to offer it to others in his immediate viscinity. Guys would take a bite or a handful and pass the baggie to the next person. The original provider would get his food back in a significantly smaller state, but had substituted his loss with a variety of other snacks from fellow teammates.

I have been offerred parts of peoples meals on numerous occasions, even when there is obviously only enough for one person. Sharing seems to be a part of the culture here, and I hope that if I only take away one thing from this country, it is a sense that sharing with those around you does two things: it builds a sense of community and it maintains an equality seldom seen in semi-developed or developed nations of today. I think we can all learn something from the Turks on this subject.

It's raining, it's poring, the old man is snoring

Hello hello,

After a brief hiatus, I have largely nothing to report.

It has been raining here fairly consistently over the past week - although last night it snowed! It was well over freezing temps (39 degrees F), but we had some serious flake-age. I went out to our balcony to check it out and saw quarter to half-dollar sized flakes falling on my trusty zippered hoodie. I asked my Turkish roomates how often it snowed in Istanbul - over the past five years? Maybe 2-3 times.

In other news, I decided to go out to Taksim: THE place to go in Istanbul if you want crowds, lots of labyrinth-like shady alley ways, and shops in which to buy any trinket imaginable. As ususal, I was hungry as we arrived to the main drag, so we stopped off at Burger King - think outside the bun (wait, that's not it) - to get some guaranteed fodder. No, that's not a thizz-face, just a gangsta' "I love eating two all-beef patties" face. Soydan on the left side of the photo.

I've created a web album on Picassa to see the rest of the photos from the night. Some highlights include Sterling's deer in headlights, Soydan's chit-chat with his absent girlfriend, a group toast, and a crowded Istanbul club. There's also a movie in there somewhere (fourth from the end) with sound of some of the Turkish dance music. Pretty cool and high energy.

What's wrong with this country: a mini-series

In this edition of "What's Wrong With This Country?" we will be investigating a few items: tomato sauce, silverware, and oranges.

I shall begin with a question: Do you think the picture below is tomato sauce? Domates, by the way, are tomatoes. Say it out loud, you'll get it. The word right below "Domates" is pronounced, "Sal-CHA-zih." Go ahead... take your best guess.

If you thought that it WAS tomato sauce, you'd be wrong. "But why?" you might ask. "It's definitely tomato something, and salchasih sounds like salsa or sauce, kind of." That would be the logical thing to think. I once thought the same as you, my gentle reader. Boy was I wrong.

Salchasih means the equivalent of "paste" apparently. So when I went to make pasta (which means "cake" in Turkish by the way), I scooped out a lump of tomato paste as my ready-made sauce. The pasta was quite pungent when I finally ate it after the paste was a bit diluted.

To review: salchazih = paste, pasta = cake, macaroniye = pasta

Side note: The first scoop gathered on the knife I was using to put the paste on my pasta fell off of the knife onto my foot/sandal. It almost went in slo-mo. I could hear the sound of a bomb dropping, followed by a SPLAT! on the big toe of my right foot. Ah tomato paste. It came right off because it was so darn thick.

Silverware: Why was I using a knife to "spoon" sauce out of a jar onto my pasta? Don't they have spoons in Turkey? Or even forks? You're right, reader. A spoon or a fork would have been a wiser choice. Unfortunately, there weren't any.

That, folks, is my silverware "drawer." The rest of our 3 forks and 2 spoons (6 people in my apartment) are in the sink. I don't know if this is a country-wide phenomenon, but it does make one wonder.

Something else that made me wonder what is really going on here in Istanbul happened yesterday. I had been feeling a little scurvy-ish, much like the brother of a friend a couple years ago, so I bought some oranges to infuse my body with a bit of good 'ole fashioned THC - I mean, Vitamin-C. I registered for classes yesterday, which needed to be done on campus for a variety of reasons that I won't get into right now, so I packed myself a sandwich and an orange as a snack to tide me over until I returned home. When I finally began to peel the orange, I found that it had a thick skin, which only came off in bits the size of a dime or a nickel. While that was annoying, it did not compare to what happened after I had completed my task.

I finally had a peeled orange in my sticky, juicy hands and I was looking forward to eating it. I took a bite - and lo and behold! It tasted like Tang (c). Yes, the powdered orange beverage! I had found a Tang-flavoured orange. Upon further investigation, I found that were I to add some carbonation, I could have a healthy orange soda - a drink quite popular here in Turkey.

My question to you: Which came first? The orange or the orange soda? I'm betting on the latter.

Next time, how Turkish girls gossip. Clue: it's not around a Ouija board.

Mr. Masticulator's Neighbourhood Part 1

I've decided to use British spelling for some words because I feel like they're more interesting that way. (See title of post - more interesting, non?) Oh, and French spelling for others because they're more hoity-toity as such. (See parenthetical statement prior to this one.)

Rather than detail an experience cooking, which I certainly found funny and still may blog about, I will post some pictures of my neighbourhood and my University: Bogazici (Boh-AH-zichi) University. Bogazici is the Turkish word for Bosphorus, the name of the strait separating Europe and Asia.

The first photo is right outside my apartment. Yes, the street is one way. The University main gates are about 2 minutes walk from here.


This next photo is a shot of the lovely hunk of
trash that my neighbourhood accumulates
everyday because we're technically in illegal housing. "What does that mean," you ask? "Oh!" I say.

Nothing much. Just that 40 years ago, the Government did nothing when this shanty-town became the thriving urban center it is today, even though the landlords don't pay any taxes. So we don't get garbage service either. No biggie. They really do pick it up anyways, but only after the cats have had their way with it. Kitteh! Tweak - you'd have a field day with this type of mental stimulation. Echo, you'd probably shoot me a look right now.

More photos of the ridic view from my school and some random shoppes in my hood.

Why lead when you can follow?

Yo!

Since I'm so outgoing and a natural born leader, you should all follow my blog. Top right corner "Follow this blog" will allow you to keep tabs on new posts and find the blog easily, especially when you're trashed and can't quite spell "eurasianamerican," but you'd like to see what's up where the continents collide - no, not India and the Himalayas. That's a subcontinent. Istanbul, get it? Asia, Europe, collision? sort of?

Oh well. Become a follower anyways. It'll boost my ego (like it needs boosting).

O'Doyle Rules!

It begins...

everyone!

This is my first post of the blog - EurasianAmerican.blogspot.com -
I thought that rather than shoot off emails that might get lost in the fray or instigate unwanted responses, I'd create a blog so folks could check up on me at their leisure, posting and reading as (you) please.

I landed in Istanbul at Ataturk Int'l Airport on Wednesday, February 4th...although it took us a while to take off. We were stuck at JFK for 2 hours... in the plane. Have I mentioned - well, no I guess I haven't yet - whatever - so Lufthansa is a lovely airline. God bless the Germans for their precision engineering, snazzy yellow plastic trim, and in-seat personal monitors. What happened to being on time!!! Fuc*ers. Both of my take-offs were late. I thought that Germans could control the weather (ice storms and low-lying fog? wtf!) Anyways, I almost got through 2 movies before we took off. Can't remember what they were though...obviously not very memorable. A positive note, however: I had 4 seats to myself!! kick ass! I slept for the majority of our flying time, completely laid out across my row and flaunting it at every opportunity to my lowly economy class compatriots. Ah, isn't it great being royalty?

When we landed in Munich though, I had already missed my plane. I was efficiently booked on a later flight, which was fantastic. One problem: Munich was covered in fog...another hour delay on the plane after a 2 hour layover and one hour regular outside-the-plane delay. Can you follow this at all? I'm beginning to lose track myself.

Whatever though! I met a guy on the plane (obviously - no, not that I talk to everyone. I only talk to men, duh) who goes to Bogazici U and lives nearby my apartment. He took one shuttle and a bus with me (as my personal guide) and walked me to my apartment. Nice guy - named... Onur (like Honor, but oh-noor). I met my roomates - nice people, although there are 6, sometimes 7 of us living in a 4BR. I'll explain later.

We all went for a Kebap (yes, a "p") and then came back to my room. Assuming that those reading this know me, guess what the first thing I did was: rearrange. The bed was using up too much space - moved it to a difft wall, switched the desk to the other side of the room, and then connected to the internet. So here I am. Installment #1 of Jesse in Turkey. It's been almost a week since I left, so I've been sitting here on my ass learning Turkish and exploring Istanbul a bit.

I also decided to join the (American) football team and cook my own food. More details to come!