"And THAT'S progress?!"

In Bartın, I often feel like things move painfully slowly: my Turkish learning, my students' English learning, life in general, and, of course, the ridiculous bureaucracy. While I luckily have no horror stories about Turkish administration from the past month and a half, I do feel like the pace in this country is noticeably more... relaxed than the pace of, let's say, Washington, DC. However, rather than cause my legs to become restless, this way of life is growing on me. When I heard about a friend in the US recently getting a smart phone to replace his old (and obviously inferior) one, I realized that the lack of iPhones, Droids, and Blackberrys in my life in Bartın really is palpable. People here pay attention during conversations. They sip tea and don't rush to be on time. Yes, their phones are always by their sides (and sometimes are answered at completely inappropriate times - like in the middle of class - by teachers!), but the constant anxiety to find out the answer to a nagging question or check the latest sports score or Facebook update just does not seem to exist to the same extent here. And that is incredibly refreshing, and something I hadn't realized until very recently.

(The photo above is the cloudy/rainy view of Topkapı Palace, home to Ottoman sultans between the 15th and 19th centuries, the Hagia Sophia, 6th century church turned mosque turned museum, and the Blue Mosque (Sultan Ahmet Camii, 17th century) from Galata Tower in Istanbul.)

Over the last several weeks, I have begun to finally feel somewhat at home in Bartın. The title of my blog, "Becoming Bartın'lı" refers to my slow process of becoming a real citizen of my town, a true "Bartinian" while still retaining my hard-to-miss lack of Turkish language. I've done this in a few ways. First, since my last post, Sebahat (or Sabahat, depending on who you ask...?) Teyze has been at home almost all the time. While I definitely enjoy the company and, most of all, her cooking, I also am remembering what it's like to live at home again. A few weeks ago when the water cut out in ALL OF BARTIN for a few days, I escaped to neighboring Karabük to shower and spend the day with my friend Rachel touring around Safranbolu again. Upon returning to Bartın, I found a distraught Sabahat Teyze, worried sick about me because she didn't know how to check her text messages where I let her know I was off to shower elsewhere. I endure a barrage of "Herkese güvenme!"s ("You can't trust everyone!") and sometimes have to cut short an enjoyable night with Turkish friends because I don't want her waiting up for me. I don't want to sound like I'm complaining - this is definitely the most ideal living situation available; I'm really experiencing life in a Turkish household, and S.T. does adore me (and I adore her). I merely want to elaborate on my day-to-day life, and my progress in becoming a temporary resident of Bartın.

Probably the first time Hanukkah was ever celebrated in Karabük. This year for Hanukkah I tried out a series of fruit menorahs, and this Banorah (Sarah's naming) held up the best.

Rachel, my lovely hostess, relaxes in a çay bahçesi (tea garden) in Safranbolu.

A hazy Safranbolu sunset.

Other serious advantages of living with a Turkish Teyze: she makes her own everything. I came home tonight to dinner on the stove and freshly-made fig jam! Last week I found S.T. sitting on the ground peeling and de-seeding the red peppers that had been drying on our balcony all autumn. Later she cooked them and turned them into salça, a spicy tomato/pepper paste used often in Turkish cooking. In the same vein, S.T. detests anything ready-made. In my attempt to make something remotely resembling latkes for Hanukkah, I sort of gave up and ended up making mashed potatoes (doesn't it count if it's at least some form of potato?). I had to hide the bouillon cube I used because S.T. was convinced (in a Bonnie-like fashion) that bouillon will give me cancer. There are no shortcuts in the life of a Turkish Teyze! No microwaves or blenders - just a pressure cooker, one determined aging woman, and endless hours of (horrendous) Turkish soap operas.

Another step in my transformation has been learning to play the ney. Nurcan, Pelin and I bought our instruments about a month ago and have been steadily working toward making a sound since then. What I've learned so far from our teacher, a veritable neyzan, or ney master: to really be able to play the ney, one needs an Ottoman mustache and a potbelly. I don't think I'll take my transformation that far, but göreceğiz... we will see! I'd heard that just getting the instrument to produce one solid note could take months, but that didn't deter us (too much). Some weeks of practice led up to the comment referenced in the title of this post. My dear mother, upon listening to me (attempt to) play the ney in a Skype concert, exclaimed these words in the most supportive, well-meaning way possible. But it's painfully true: after several weeks of playing this instrument, I still look silly with my head cocked at such an angle and my lips ridiculously searching for the proper shape to use to blow the air to make a suitable sound. We may leave ney lessons with kinked necks and chapped lips, but we persevere! (To the left: Nurcan and Pelin watch our teacher, Emin Yalın Bey, instruct one of his more advanced students. Half of our lessons are comprised of Emin Yalın Bey serenading us/showing us how good he is and how bad we are.)

I have developed some comfortable weekly routines as well. Bartın is well known for its farmers markets, what are called "Kadın Pazarı" or women's markets because it's mostly women with scarves wrapped around their heads carrying their loads of mavrul and soğan (lettuce and onions) in wicker baskets on their backs who are the sellers. It's quite a sight - probably 100-150 women trying to market the same good at about the same price, all calling out "Abla, buyurun" ("Big sister, take a look") as I walk by eying the parsley or homemade ayran (salty milk/yogurt drink). But I go every week (even though S.T. does her own shopping with her preferred vendors) to see Ilknur's grandparents and bring them a couple simit (bagel-like sesame-covered bread) to get them through the day. Our conversations are quite short - because of her strong Bartınish accent, Ilknur's grandmother chops off the end of her words, and in an agglutinative language, it's the suffixes that make all the difference! And yet I love seeing them and love that they have their unchanging space at the market where they know all of their neighbors and probably most of the customers. Needless to say, I'm enjoying small-town life.

I haven't done a whole lot of traveling in the weeks since Bayram. I spent one delightful weekend in Ankara with Fulbright friends to celebrate Thanksgiving - a real celebration for omnivores, since our hostess somehow secured a holiday ham (in a Muslim country, a real feat) from the embassy's commissary. I helped out with the starches, making an excellent pot of mashed potatoes, and then working with a friend to disguise cooked pumpkin as sweet potatoes. For the whole day I was accompanied by a glass of wine, ensuring a joyous time and pink cheeks. Everyone was totally jolly and it was truly lovely to see the 20ish other Fulbrighters who'd come from near and far to eat. And drink.

Natasha, Hannah, Sarah O., Rachel, Donnie, Thu, and Cassie, laughing, being wonderful.

Really, we dined on a feast!

Cassie and I candied pecans to sprinkle on our "sweet potatoes." No one knew! (Everybody knew!)

My couple of consecutive weekends spent in Bartın existed in part to help me save up for one special, long trip to Istanbul. In my pre-Turkey hysteria of hanging out with friends and studying for the GRE, I did a horrendous job of packing, and my number one priority in Istanbul was to buy warm clothing. A. Pearson and I spent an entire day in a mall that could have existed anywhere in the US (though a LOT less busy on the weekend before Christmas), so my goal was finally achieved and, Mom, I can can confidently say that I will be able to endure Bartın's relatively tame winter. The first part of the weekend was spent discovering Istanbul's nightlife with a few Fulbrighters who were in town as well. And then Sunday my dear friends Naama and David came to visit me!! Real visitors, and we did the very touristy gambit that I ran three years ago as a summer student at Boğaziçi University, backpacker hostel and all. Some highlights from the weekend? Seeing the Hagia Sofia and the Blue Mosque at night, veritable gems beautifully lit for perfect evening viewing. Another? Arguably the best meal I've ever had in my life. Finally? A Bosphorus cruise on my birthday.

The Hagia Sophia (Aya Sofia in Turkish) on a beautiful evening after the rain.

Friends! Naams, David, and David's friend Ilana. The Aya Sofia again, looking gorgeous.

Basilica Cistern

Friends at the Blue Mosque!

The Blue Mosque has a halo!

Although I'd seen Topkapı Palace in 2007, this time we toured the harem, which was beautiful and pleasantly school-field-trip-free.

Naams! So good to see her. To the right of me you can see Galata Tower in the background, across the Golden Horn.

Twenty-one different meze plates. (And that was just our first course.) I realize my blog walks the fine line between travel and food. But this meal, ah, I salivate at the thought of it. David's parents, former restaurant owners themselves, treated us to a beautiful dinner at Giritli.

Finally, today I threw a New Years party for my speaking class at school. My students, who convincingly insist that Yes! We really want to learn English! Teacher, can you help me learn English? and pout in class and refuse to participate in a matter of a few hours, really got into the celebration and bought a bunch of food from the cafeteria downstairs. Sometimes I love my students! Sometimes I want to wring their necks.

Not like this is necessary, but here goes: Nurcan in the red, closest to us. Then, clockwise: Merve, Gamze (looking fairly surprised), Erdal, Sevil, Dilek and Merve (who put on loads of makeup for the occasion), Mehmet, Merve standing, Erdinç, Tanju, Bahar, Volkan, Emrah, Emine and Mürşide, Cansu, Emre, and Nur Banu.

This weekend I'm off to Amasya to ring in the real new year with some other Fulbrighters. Mutlu yillar to all! Hope everyone who celebrated it had a great Christmas, and to everyone else, hope the Chinese food was delish. Here it was a just another Saturday - no snow, no carols. I miss all of you very much! Thanks for hanging around until the end.

I'll leave you with a few of my favorite Turkish idioms. My coworkers, friends, and students all contribute to this ongoing list. The cycle goes something like this: I interrupt the silence of hard work getting done in our office at the university to ask a question about Turkish grammar. Nurcan, Pelin, and/or Ilknur begins to answer my question and, as part of the explanation, throws into the mix an idiom. The three of them proceed to jointly explain the idiom, utilizing other idioms in order to explain the original one. And then my mind spins out of control.

Misafir umduğunu değil, bulduğunu yer.
A guest doesn't eat what he wishes, she eats what she finds.
(I was told this once when I was invited to dinner at Ilknur's house. Good thing I like pretty much whatever I find in Turkey!)

Biri yer, biri bakar, kıyamet ondan kopar. (Notice the rhyme!)
Someone eats, another watches, doomsday begins(/the resurrection of the dead begins/a fight breaks out).
(Said by my boss, Emrullah Bey, on why food is always shared. This explains why I'm never offered something once, I'm offered it multiple times.)

Leb demeden leblebiyi anlatmak
To be able to finish someone else's sentences, to understand a person without having to hear the whole explanation.
Literally: Before you say "leb", I understand that you will say "leblebiyi".

Göz görmeyince gönül katlanır.
Literally: While one's eyes don't see, the heart endures. Or, distance makes the heart grow stronger.

I can say confidently the last one is true! All my love to all of you.

A Bosphorus view on my birthday!