Kuru Kuru Gitmez

"It's not good without tea."

In Turkey, tea is not just a staple of daily (hourly..?) life; it is also the grease in every imaginable social and bureaucratic situation one could possibly encounter. The above phrase is one of many expressions I have been dutifully compiling over the past few weeks thanks to some very gracious and patient Turkish colleagues. Kuru kuru gitmez was uttered by Ilknur, another English teacher at the university, a few weeks ago as the two of us sat in front of a plate of börek she had brought from home and waited for tea to be delivered to our office by the downstairs cafeteria. I, of course, thanked her for the delicious snack and took a bite, only noticing moments later she'd restrained herself. Once the tea arrived, however, an invisible but palpable balance was restored, and we both enjoyed our börek and çay together - the proper way to consume both. Our office has acquired the nickname the Girls' Club because of the distinct gender divide among the language teachers. The best part (besides spontaneous dancing to Fiddler on the Roof in Turkish ("Ah Bir Zengin Olsam" - "If I Were a Rich Man" - if you were wondering)): our incredible sunset view.

Though today marks the end of my third week of teaching (my aforementioned gracious colleagues offered me a 4-day work week), I will be heading back to the university tomorrow as an English language resource and hopefully for some informal Turkish classes. Monday through Thursday I teach four hours of speaking class in the preparatory year program (hazırlık). I should really preface all remarks concerning the education system here with the fact that I am still completely confused as to how it works nationally, and only partly clear on some aspects of my university's organization. Hazırlık, a year-long curriculum of English reading, grammar, and speaking courses, is optional at Bartın Üniversitesi and only available to certain departments, but is compulsory for students at many other universities in Turkey. For this reason, I have been blessed with students who have made a serious decision to delay the start of their studies to improve their English. Teaching my hazırlık class is great but extremely challenging because, even though they have theoretically had at least seven years of English in primary and secondary school, many of them don't have any speaking skills beyond what is rote memorization ("Hello, my name is," "Fine, thank you and you," etc). Because I'm the first native speaker many of them have met, the biggest problem I've encountered is getting them to recognize the words I say (like cucumber (ju-jum-bare?) or juice (joo-i-ee-jay?)), so I end up writing much of my script on the board. I should add that I do have another English teacher, either Nurcan or Pelin, who is able to translate whatever gets lost in translation (as you can imagine, a lot). My other responsibilities are as a native speaker resource to grammar classes in engineering and business departments where I play games and talk about the differences between Kurban Bayram (a Muslim holiday in November) and Thanksgiving.

Tea has been a key ingredient in some wonderful dinners I've been (again, graciously) a part of in the past couple weeks. The colleagues with whom I work directly are mostly my age, which proves incredibly convenient because 1) they are super friendly and inclusive and 2) I greatly appreciate social interaction and need both cultural and linguistic translators to help me navigate through life here. Maybe most importantly: they like to cook, and they seem like they aren't just trying to humor me when I ask if they will teach me how to cook Turkish food.

Last weekend, Sarah and I joined the other English teachers (and members of the Girls' Club) Ilknur, Pelin, and Nurcan at Pelin's lovely abode, to make a feast from scratch that ended in not just çay, but also Türk kahvesi (Turkish coffee), and thus also some fal bakmak (reading one's fortune) from the overturned coffee cups.

Nurcan, Ilknur, Sarah, and Pelin preparing tavuk ve pilav (chicken and rice)

After dinner: cookies, coffee, and fortunes. What do you see in my grinds?

Last week was a marathon of three incredible dinners. First, Ilknur invited me to her home where I met her amazing family and learned the proper way to cut chestnuts to be roasted.

Ilknur's sister Ceyda, Ilknur, and her parents

Ilknur's mother was far too patient with my knife skills. As I do with many things in my life, I blame this incapacity on my thumbs.

Final product: roasted chestnuts, çay, and a Turkish soap series in the reflection.

The next afternoon I was chaperoned around the city and province by Onur, a French teacher, and Volkan, a history teacher (two members of the alluded-to Boys' Club). After setting up my bank account (seriously, thank you Onur if you are reading this), we stopped in İnkumu, a jaw-dropping stretch of Black Sea beach about 15 km west of Amasra, before making an incredible fish dinner chez eux.

Onur in a foggy İnkumu

Cleaning fresh hamsi (anchovies)! Purchased from the fish market hours before

There is just never enough baklava in my life. The perfect ending to any dinner

I was also invited to the house of Ayşe, a German teacher at the university and the final member of the girls club. At Ayşe's, I had what is probably the best soup I have tasted so far on this trip. The pictures unfortunately didn't come out so well, which just means I'll have to invite myself back to learn the name of the soup.

Tea also helped cushion the pains of planning a trip to Sinop, where I was able to meet the two Fulbrighters stationed there, Lucian and Amy, plus Emily, who did some serious schlepping to bus from Uşak (13 hours each way). Although Turkey's bus system is seemingly complete, with buses serving far-away cities all over the country from our small town, it somehow fails to have any convenient way for me to get just one city east along the coast. During this cup of tea, I learned the phrase sabahin körü (the blindness of morning) to describe times so early in the morning that it's pitch black. Times when I shouldn't be conscious. And, evidently, the only times when buses go to Sinop. Despite my colleagues' genuine pleading with me not to go ("It wasn't meant to be," etc.), I decided I needed an adventure and last Friday made the 10-hour trip.

It was worth every hour - Sinop is like a city-sized Amasra. Located on an egg-shaped peninsula, it has ruins of fortifications from the Pontic kings, reinforced by the Romans and Byzantines, and from a NATO base that existed there until the 1990s. The city is noticeably more liberal than Bartın - while I struggle to find cafes here that are not full of men smoking and playing cards (commonly called kahvehane), Sinop is sprinkled with adorable cafes, women walking alone around the streets, and a real port town atmosphere. Amy and Lucian were wonderful hosts, showing us the best cafes and mantı restaurants. I half-wish I could say that I saw the waterfalls outside of town we'd planned to get to, but really we spent most of our time talking about Irish politics and playing Bananagrams at various locations with sea-views.

First night: Emily and Lucian are excited for fish

OK, so we played some gin rummy, too

Overcast morning on the harbor

Photo credit to Amy for the last two! Sitting next to her most of the time precluded Amy from being in my Sinop pictures

To those still with me, congratulations! I've reached the most exciting news yet, progress that has also been orchestrated with the help of tea along the way. Tomorrow morning I will be moving in with the mother of one of my coworkers, Huseyin Bey, veteran member of the Boys' Club. Just when Saft Otel got hot water! Moving in with Sebahat Teyze (Aunt Sebahat is what I'm told I will call her - also learned her first name just this morning...) is amazing and exciting but I'm very cautious about the whole situation. Our meeting for the first and only time prior to my moving in with her was successfully smoothed over by the presence of çay, but given my host-family situations in the past (Juani la Loca from Algeciras, for example), I'm still a little worried due to the cultural and linguistic gaps present. Oh, did I mention Aunt Sebahat doesn't speak a word of English? Advantage? Certainly: improving my Turkish is priority number one after teaching. Also, I hear my new Turkish aunt is an excellent cook. I will keep you updated on my feats in Turkish cuisine.

Until then, here's my favorite cup-of-çay-and-view combination of the past couple weeks. From a ways up the hill in Sinop - a view of the city from a tea garden (çay bahçesi). All my best to Ohio, DC, Boston (Aunt Lisa, no Turkish aunt could ever replace you!), Togo (!), or wherever else you may be at this moment.