Daddy's Gonna Punch You in the Mouth!

Rocking out to the new Tortoise album (thanks, Dennis!) after finishing up my homework.

First, I need to correct something: the super duper religious neighborhood was not Fener as much as it was Çarşamba. Çarşamba means "Wednesday" in Turkish. I'm not sure why they chose that name. Maybe Wednesday nights they all take off their robes to streak and disco bowling. Okay, well at least that is settled.

Today was a serious business day. Got to class and helped Michael sort out the fax situation regarding his lost bank card. Don't worry, a Turk didn't find it and use it to buy $1000 worth of Facebook gifts for blonde American girls. We had to go to the language lab again today. Last time, if you remember/care/don't want to have to research to understand, we watched the first half of a shitty video about ebru, the art of paper marbling! Today they left us hanging, and said that we would watch the thrilling conclusion later this week. Why, I am not sure. I really hope he doesn't shit at his desk. In its place, we were "treated" with a long segment from a Turkish "sitcom." The show is ostensibly about a married couple that is staying together for the sake of their shitty little rat children. One of them is a Macaulay Caulkin wannabe, and the other is just a bitchy pre-teen. Neither deserved the emotionally distant, verbally abusive parents they have. 

As I was saying, the show has a somewhat serious pretense. But guess what? It's fucking dumb as hell. This clip introduced us to feng shui, or the art of removing furniture and replacing it with pillows, and then talking about it for ten minutes to an upset husband. And boy, was dad upset. The kids seemed to have it all figured out. They warned their mom. Hell, even the mom's parents knew to get out of there when he got back. Think about it too long, and it depresses you. This show is designed to be relatable. That means that most Turkish children know better than to do anything as rash as changing the interior design of an apartment without dad's permission, because, as the piece of shit son said, "Daddy's gonna punch you in the mouth when he sees this!" Fortunately, it didn't come to that. He shouted, paced back and forth, and repeated himself for about five minutes. I am pretty sure he threatened to kill his wife a couple of times. The audience was laughing most of the time. Also, you know how back in the day, like when Benny Hill was considered cutting edge, there would be the occasional "boom" of the tympani, like if someone fell down? Well in Turkish sitcoms, they still use it, in this case to convey surprise! It's the sound the kids on TV hear from their bedrooms before daddy slaps mom for talking to her friend about eastern philosophy. 

I usually tell people before they watch a Turkish comedy that Turkish comedies are generally not funny, and that the national sense of humor is very different from ours (like comparing "Reba" to "Arrested Development"). I stand by that characterization. Essentialist, yes, but accurate. I bet this sitcom's audience would LOVE the George Lopez Show. 

After lunch I headed to conversation hour at the fanciest of the cafeterias on campus, and managed to schwangle some free food from the girls in my group when they couldn't finish their meals. This plan is effective and cheap, and will be repeated. We were working on comparatives, and using animals as references. I argued that the chimpanzee was fiercest among all the animals presented, and then had to explain why. I gave up trying to describe the face and genital mauling horrors of a chimp attack on a human, and instead went with "they eat their own kind, and bang on trees while they hunt." Then someone suggested that mankind is the fiercest animal. Afterwards, we all fell silent as the stray cats meowed in agreement, and the besunspectacled man smoked a cigar calmly two tables over, staring straight ahead at nothing, perhaps pondering the very same question himself in a cloud of thick smoke. 

We had to watch a film today called "Üç Maymun," or "Three Monkeys." It featured vehicular manslaughter, painfully long shots of the same apartment, marital infidelity, murder, spousal sexual abuse, suicidal thoughts, a ghost, lots of rain, and the exploitation of the homeless. Oh, and it didn't feature a musical score. My concern is that Turkish movies are too upbeat for it to join the European Union.

Speaking of the European Union, I have started noticing new street signs all over the city, allegedly due to EU regulations. Streets that haven't had signs in probably centuries are finally getting them. Tourists rejoice! I was pleased to find out that the street that I have been calling Murder Hill is actually just called "Bebek Mountain." 

(More) Random thoughts (than usual): 

I realized today how great it is to live in America because you can wear nice things without them ending up smelling like diesel exhaust and cigarette smoke after walking outside for five minutes. At least in DC. 

We were joking today about how awesome it would be if Turkish women were as aggressive as Turkish men in coming on to foreigners. Then we watched that movie, and realized that there are too many crazies here for that to be a good idea. It seems like every guy I know who spent any time here during the normal school year ended up with a female Turkish stalker.

"Night at the Museum: Battle of the Smithsonian" is one of the best children's movies I've ever seen. It is a blast and a half. Hilarious. I want to marry Amelia Earheart. 

We had sour cherry wine with our pasta dinner tonight in the girls' apartment. We went all out. It was a feast. Delicious stuff: spaghetti with fresh tomato sauce, beans, eggplant, fresh bread, and fresh goat cheese. 

I still REALLY want to see Transformers 2. Someone was saying it looked terrible and sexist, and our friend Hannah came back with this gem:

"Even though they have male voices, Autobots are gender neutral. They are robots."

Short, Sweet, and Very Gay

Today was a fast day. It threatened to rain in my neighborhood all afternoon, but never did. Pussy.

 I woke up at 10:00 to the sound of my apartment mate (Mitbewöhner is a much better word) talking loudly on Skype. This continued for two hours, as I fell in and out of sleep. I finally left my room at 2:00pm and grabbed a bite to eat from the Simit Sarayı just down the road. On the way I saw a car drive by really fast with two toddlers standing up in the back seat. What kind of shitty parent lets their toddlers ride unsecured in fucking Istanbul? I don't even feel safe in a taxi when I have a seatbelt on. Jesus. I guess it is the same type of parent, all too common here, who takes their newborn to the park in a stroller and sits next to it and smokes a pack and a half of cigarettes. There isn't a parenting manual, I know. But seriously, when your cigarette packs here clearly state that smoking kills, and that secondhand smoke is dangerous to children, you'd think someone with enough wits to know how to drive would know how NOT TO BLOW SMOKE TOWARD THEIR FUCKING BABY.

Anyway, I am sorry. It just bugs me.

Immediately after scarfing down my late lunch, I met up with people who were going to the Istanbul PRIDE "Parade." I put it in quotes because that is how it was described to us by the girl organizing it. I don't think she knew, nor did any of us, that it would actually be a gay rights protest. I had my misgivings about getting so close to it, given the Turkish police's penchant for violently breaking up protests (see any May Day protest for details), and I assume (probably correctly) that homosexuals are among the least protected groups in the city/country. So I was nervous about being a couple dozen feet away from the line of riot policemen (and women!) and their massive water cannon truck. So after clapping along with their cheers and taking some pictures and video, a few of our group went with me to the Saray Muhallebecisi, the dessert place I love, and we sat at the window on the second level to watch...and share 5 different types of dessert, included tavuk göğsü, the pudding mixed with ultra-finely shredded chicken breast (its namesake). 

Eventually, the parade came past. It grew in size to probably around 700 people. Not exactly the Love Parade, but again, these people here are actively pursuing rights that sexual minorities have already in countries that host such huge events. There was, of course, the obligatory 6'5", 250 lb. pink wig-wearing transvestite leading the procession. But there was also a guy playing the darbuka, adding a bit of Turkish flair to the whole event. A huge rainbow flag was unfurled and took up much of the width of Istiklal Caddesi (the big shopping/bar street where the parade took place), and everyone had placards that said "We are gays, we are lesbians, we are transvestites, we are transexuals, we are bisexuals," on one side, and "We're here, get used to it," on the other.

The whole scene was pretty tense and surreal. I will never forget the moment that the protestors all fell silent during the call to prayer. They resumed chanting immediately after it finished. The riot police opted to allow the "parade" to proceed down the street, after having apparently had every intention of blocking them. So behind the parade came the ranks of riot cops and their massive water cannon truck. The parade surrounded the historical tram, which had stopped to let them pass. I have to say, the crowd reactions were a lot more positive than I had expected, but that might have just been due to the day I spent in the city's ultraconservative neighborhood yesterday. Regardless of what they thought, everyone was taking pictures. The vibe was overwhelmingly positive, but that didn't make me less nervous. Whenever you have a crowd that big and young, poorly trained riot cops with nothing better to do, the last place I want to be is between them and the protest. Especially in Turkey, where I believe just last week or so, those cops beat a kid into a coma for telling them to slow down in their car. I was scanning the crowd most of the time, looking for plainclothes cops and instigators, and looking at the balconies above for anything suspicious, remembering that the 1977 May Day massacre happened after a panic ensued from shots fired onto the crowd from above by right-wing militants involved in NATO's Gladio operation. Anyway, I feel like being paranoid in such a case is better than not being careful at all, and thinking you're at an American parade. We moved away after the parade stopped in the open space further down the road, and the police began to move toward them. From what I saw and heard later, nothing bad happened. It was a pretty successful protest, I'd say. They got access to the biggest pedestrian thoroughfare in the city, and managed to almost block it entirely. And they did so non-violently, and with lots of smiling and music. Bingo bango bongo. 

I feel a bit bad for admitting this, but one of the female riot cops was actually really hot. Also, one of the people in my program has swine flu. He isn't at my university, though. But still. SWINE FLU. And my Mitbewöhner is now having a Skype fight with his girlfriend back in Orange County. Yeah. The OC. They are really cussing up a storm at each other. I can hear it through my wall. Highlight so far: "No, fuck you. You have to stay and talk to me. You bitched me out for not being there on time last time. No. Fuck you."

Goodnight!

Part III of the Turkey Catchup: The Reckoning

Yesterday was an incredibly long, incredibly exhausting, but incredible day. It was our day trip to see the less traveled neighborhoods, mosques, and monuments of the Old City. Our group, which had about 20 people at its peak, was led by Yavuz, the same guy who led our Edirne trip the last time I was here. He is a PhD student in architecture, and knows everything there is to know about everything built in Istanbul. It is staggering, the amount of detail he was able to go into. 

We took a university-owned bus to the Süleymaniye Camii (mosque), passing the bridal district along the way. Store after store full of headscarf and tesettür-friendly wedding dresses, some of them so ornate they put Queen Amidala to shame. Boom. Star Wars reference. Deal with it. At the mosque, which was closed off to non-Muslims because it is being renovated inside, and only one corner is open for praying, we were treated to a 45 minute lecture on its significance under the hot, hot sun. The tomb of Süleyman was also closed, but we were again treated to a long discussion of its significance for having an ambulatory around the outside. Apparently, the entire complex was designed to sort of be a new Temple of Solomon. Süleyman is the Islamified version of the name. The dimensions of the complex almost exactly coincide with the Old Testament's listed dimensions for the Temple, and even the columns inside were build of material taken from temples of Alexander and of the Queen of Sheba, trying to link Süleyman physically with the line of ancient rulers in the same sort of pantheon as Solomon. 

Pretty neat.

We got to visit the inside of a madrassa on the grounds of Süleymaniye, too, which was probably a pretty rare opportunity, since they wouldn't let us take pictures. Inside, there were hundreds of angry teenagers armed to the teeth and bearded to their knees. Just kidding, there was actually a really cool display of ancient Arabic texts, many of which featured really old maps of the "world" as it was known at the time. Shiho, the Japanese woman in our group, noted with a hint of sadness that Japan did not appear on any of them. The largest item was a beautifully framed illuminated text, for lack of a better word (I forget the Arabic one). I jokingly suggested to on of the Ottoman History guys in our group that it was a description of a portrait, as depicting the human form was generally frowned upon in early Islamic art. He said "actually, it is a description of the Prophet, with the names of the Four Rightly Guided Caliphs placed around him." Bam. I can now tell the future, and read Arabic. The head of the madrassa was a friendly older man who carried around a pointer that made me nervous, but fortunately, he was not one for wild gesticulation. 

We checked out the mosque's old soup kitchen complex, which is now a restaurant, and while we were there, Murat, the PhD student, pointed out this Greek kid in the group that nobody knew. I had noticed him too; he was lanky, had a bit of acne, a baseball hat, and the strangest body language I'd seen in a long time. Murat suggested that he had a bit of a "Prince" thing going on, and then did a phenomenal impression of Prince, saying "Come here, bitch!" So that made me start laughing, and every time that kid did something for the rest of the day, Murat would look at me and I would start laughing again. The kid had the habit of leaning on, or should I say, molesting things that people wanted to take pictures of, so he will invariably appear in dozens of photos on the web at some point, and I will be sure to point him out to you then.

After a much-needed lunch break, during which "Dimples" sat with us at our table and chatted, we checked out one of the nicer monuments I have seen, design-wise, but certainly one of the lamest in terms of what it commemorates. It was called the "Flying Martyrs Memorial," and it basically commemorated three Ottoman airmen who crashed in 1913 on their way back from Cairo. Not in combat, not saving lives, just on their way back from a flight to Cairo designed to demonstrate the power of the Ottoman military. Lame. 

We also saw a column that was older than the Hagia Sophia, and it now is just sitting in the middle of a traffic roundabout. It used to be inside of a private home, but a fire destroyed the entire neighborhood (the houses were all made of wood), and so the column was left standing. It was called the Maiden Tower because it has two angles carved into the base. It is located right near a place called "Kiler Köfte," so come for the köfte, stay for the column. After that, we went to the national library, which was a small but cool space renovated recently and still used by researchers. The centerpiece of the collection, which was not open to the public, was the first example of written Turkic language. If I were to make an Ocean's Eleven type film in Turkey, that would be the item we would steal. No doubt. It would probably be a really short movie, though, because the place was not heavily guarded, unless you could four overweight, tea-sipping guards with shirts that don't fit as security, in which case, it was quite heavily guarded. Solution: the Don Cheadle puts sleeping pills into their teapot. That's the game, folks. For good measure, though, we would drill underneath it and explode an EMP device. And play poker.

We continued to walk deeper into the neighborhood of Fatih, which is notoriously conservative, and then entered Fener, which is apparently even more conservative. I was shocked by what I saw, because it was unlike anything in Istanbul I'd ever seen. In Fener, every woman we saw was wearing at least a tesettür, and almost a third of the women were completely covered, wearing a çarşaf, which covers the entire body but the eyes and nose, usually, but sometimes also is worn under the chin. All the men had stereotypically "Islamist" facial hair, meaning not only long, full beards (far longer than my own), but also the super long sideburns-to-under-the-chin beards. Their dress was also very, very different from the rest of the city I had seen. There were many wearing turbans and robes. Nobody was smiling. Most of the people on the street, in shops and cafes, were men. The women were never sitting and relaxing. I think the non-smiling might have been, in part, due to our presence there, since we are strangers in their neighborhood. 

In Fatih, we walked under old Roman aqueducts, and I saw two guys wearing kitchen gloves throwing sheep skins, fur still on them, into the back of a truck. It smelled horrible. Another job I am thankful not to have. Turns out, that was a butcher shop district. Shops full of sheep heads and carcasses. While there, we went to the Caricature Museum, which is housed in an old madrassa, and featured late Ottoman and early Turkish political cartoons, some of which were the originals of those I had seen in articles before for class. 

Yavuz took off really quickly toward Fener, I think irresponsibly so, because our group had a hard time keeping up with him, and as we got deeper and deeper into the already intimidating neighborhood (see above), the streets became increasingly narrow, winding, and hilly. It would have been all too easy to get lost, if those of us who could keep up with him hadn't sort of stretch ourselves out and kept a line of sight open to him and the rest of the group. He wanted us to make it to the Fethiye Museum before it closed. We got there late, and he spent 10 minutes bargaining with the guards to open it back up for 15 minutes. We had to pay to get in, but it was totally worth it. Inside the tiny old Byzantine church were some of the most beautiful and ornate mosaics I have ever seen. The main dome featured Jesus surrounded by the 12 Apostles, the side arches featured the Archbishops, scenes of Jesus' baptism, and the main space over the alter had Jesus blessing those below. It was all done in gold, and looked incredible. They had been there since the 1200s, and were remarkably preserved. It was the type of place that I would have never, ever found on my own. 

Afterwards, we made our way down the winding, narrow streets, past ancient and abandoned houses, and some still occupied by the neighborhood's poorer residents. There were groups of kids playing in the streets and stopping to stare at us. One little boy said "Hello, money money!" His dad emerged and quickly hushed him. We checked out a few more old Greek mansions that were now in disrepair and full of apartments before heading down a really shady flight of stairs past some shanties with satellite dishes on them, before ultimately taking public transit back to our dorms. It was a really, really valuable trip. I saw things and people I would have never seen on my own, or even known existed. I feel like I have a much better picture of the city now, who lives here, how they live, and what where they live used to be. Talk about an old city. Those kids were playing ball on streets that had been there for maybe a thousand years. The places we walked around were where the old Ottoman bureaucrats once lived, and where the city's once bustling 160,000-strong Greek population lived (out of 1,000,000), and now represents just 1,600 of the city's 12,000,000+ inhabitants. There is so much to see and do here, and we have only just scratched the surface.

Part II of the Turkey Catchup.

 Sorry for that relatively weak post last night. I was relatively weak with exhaustion. Now, where was I?

When we finally got back from our "konuşma saat gezisi," which instead of the scheduled two hours ended up lasting six, most of us from the group went to get dinner. I ran back to the dorm first to check email and make some Skype calls, and got back with them about half an hour later. They said they were going to "Urfa," so I assumed it was the Urfa place I had been to before. I got there, didn't see them, and instead of looking across the fucking street, I walked back up the small hill and then continued further away from campus for a few minutes. After doing the whole "well, clearly this isn't right" stop, and the "I'm cool, just checking my watch, which is telling me I am late for something and need to go back" 180-degree turn, I went back to the Urfa place and noticed that right across the street there was another Urfa place, and this one was serving my friends as I got there. Bravo!

We met our TA's roommate, who ate with us, and wow, is she cute. Prettiest eyes I've ever seen. She speaks fluent English, like everyone else in our program, but only speaks Turkish to us because they want us to actually learn. Her parents gave her a name which means "dimples" or "coquettish glance," both of which are incredibly accurate. How do they do it? We all had a discussion of what responsibilities come with an artist releasing projects to the general public after I said that Fatih Akin's movies did not do much to strengthen the white German public's positive views on Turks. The other TA in our group of course managed to tear my argument apart, and I totally agreed with her, but the best I could come up with in Turkish was my initial, weak argument. Yet another incentive to learn the language better! The best part was that "Dimples" sort of made a face and said "I hate talking about this." I guess she plays the role I do back home when things take a post-structuralist turn: the "this is fucking stupid" guy.

After dinner, a few of us from my program decided to smuggle some beers into campus and sit at the cool kids' hangout, called the Petek, or honeycomb. It's a group of benches arranged in hexagons overlooking the Bosphorus on the road to campus proper. Gorgeous, and usually packed with Turkish students drinking or making out. Sometimes they do BOTH. The biggest problem I have with the Petek, and it isn't so much a problem as it is a "someday something will go horribly wrong" type feeling, is that it is also a hangout for the street dogs, which as I have said before, are lion-sized. The group that hangs there has a clear leader, a dog so big a 10 year old could ride him like a horse, and they all walk around sniffing bags and people, looking for food. Then, when a delivery guy or anyone else goes by on a scooter, the all bolt out of the bushes and chase them. It is terrifying. The worst is when the garbage truck drove by, because that thing is like an ice cream truck for them. Even the leader, who usually laid there like the Godfather, took off, and was trying to maul the poor guys clinging to the back of the truck. Add that one to the list of jobs I am incredibly thankful I don't have.

We smoked some hookah one the rooftop of Bu Cafe just before it closed, which meant we weren't able to stay long. Lame. As we headed back to the dorm, Hakan was in his little office, and I went in to say hi. We ended up staying there and chatting for about 15 minutes. He would ask us about American politics in his machine gun Turkish, then as us what we thought of Turkey, then ask us if we knew so-and-so, and then just as we were getting confused and talking about something funny, he clapped his hands, slammed them on his desk, ran them through his receding hair, and said "Michael Jackson died." He then asked what his dance was called, and we said "Moonwalk," so then he naturally went on Youtube and showed us videos of people doing the Moonwalk. Afterwards, he said he has heard that Michael Jackson is going to be buried as a Muslim. I had never heard this, but apparently there are rumors everywhere that he converted recently. Anyone know? I had no answer for Hakan. It sounds exactly like something I would expect to see in a Turkish newspaper, though. Hakan is hilarious. Every time I pass by with American girls, he hollers "Kevin!" and comes out and immediately says, in English, "Hellohowareyou," followed by "Vat is your name?" Then he pats his chest and says "I am Hakan," and puts his hand on my shoulder and says "Kevin." That Friday night, as we said goodbye, he did the whole cheek-to-cheek deal with me. I say this again: either he will be my kid's godfather one day, or he will be wearing my skin as a coat. Either way, the process will be hilarious.

Part I of the Turkey Catchup.

Hey folks, sorry it took so long to post this...I will catch up in three parts, because after today, I am exhausted and am having a hard time keeping my eyes open.

Yesterday was a very long day. It started with a set of the cutest goddamn kittens I have ever seen wandering the halls of our class building. So small that we picked them up and delivered them to the other side of the hallway to prevent them from being stepped on by passersby. Heart-melting, like the Ark of the Covenant. After class and lunch, my class, along with the other advanced class, set out for a trip, or gezi, with our TA to the İş Bank Museum in Eminönü, the area by all the touristy shit. She works at İş Bank, and so was able to get us access. Photos were not allowed, but I will say that the museum was surprisingly cool. It was fully of photos, videos, and texts dating back to the early years of the Turkish Republic, and even before. A lot of texts were in Ottoman, and so we relied on our PhD friends to translate. There was one video exhibit that featured video interviews with REALLY old Turks about their memories of the bank when it first opened. One man was born in 1883 and interviewed in 1984. Do the math. He was 101 years old. The video had Turkish subtitles because his speech was so slurred, and the subtitles were almost unintelligible for me because he used so many Ottoman (read: Arabic and Farsi) words. It is crazy to think that he lived under the Ottoman Empire for 40 years before Turkey was founded. After that, we descended into what I liked to call "The Future." 

For those among you who worry what the future will look like, it is a long white hallway onto whose walls is rapidly projected a stream of white numbers on a blue background. You walk this hallway for about 40 feet, and there, at its end, lies once more the past. "The Future" is apparently a real crowd pleaser. When we left the museum, we walked to the Galata Bridge (now in its fourth incarnation, after fires destroyed previous versions), and the group sat down for a beer at a restaurant looking out over the water. The bridge, for those who don't know, is two-storied, and the upper story has the street and an army of fishermen casting over the side to catch the tiny, relatively useless fish of the Bosphorus. Their lines are hanging down in front of you like a giant harp, and I always find myself wanting to grab one and tie it to a chair, and give them something to get excited about. Or just pull their rod down and scream "SHARK! SHARK!" Of course, they all probably secretly wish to be eaten by a fish so big.

 Our TA actually haggled for us to get a lower beer price, and it worked. It was an incredible maneuver: the Walkaway. Name your price, if they don't meet it, you Walkaway. Bam. They follow and agree. We hung out there for a while and practiced our Turkish, talking, reading Turkish comics, and people watching. Eventually, we walked across the bridge and hopped in the Tünel, the world's second oldest and quite possibly the world's shortest subway. It takes us from the Karaköy neighborhood up the steep hill to the far end of Istiklal Caddesi, the main drag in the city. When we got off, there was a need for a restroom among many in the group, and so we found the nearby public toilet.

I have used public toilets here before. They usually cost 50 kuruş to pee, and 1 or 2 lira to "büyük yapmak," or "drop a deuce." This place, being at the end of one of the world's busiest streets, gets away with charging 1 lira for peeing. I paid it to a man who was sitting at a table inside the bathroom, and who formed the barrier between the outside and the mens' room. The smell in this place was enough to make even the most seasoned camper and outhouse user stop in their tracks. It's not hard to imagine why: thousands of people use it every day. Thousands upon thousands. I washed my hands twice and then used hand sanitizer, then dipped them in boiling water, scraped off the outermost layer of skin with an awl and hammer, then set my clothing on fire. This, I suppose, is why we stopped in a store so I could buy a new shirt featuring a B-Boy with a boombox on his shoulder. While on our way there, a man stopped me in the middle of the street and said he knew me in Turkish. Turns out, he just got his PhD from Georgetown in linguistics, and we had met a while back but didn't remember each others' names. Now we do. He lives around here. Small fucking world.

This concludes PART I. I need to sleep. Fucking exhausted. More to follow FULL STOP.

Bless This Mess

Please excuse the lack of posting today. It has been busy. Tomorrow will be a MEGA POST. It will feature THE İŞ BANK MÜZESİ, THE GALATA BRIDGE, THE TÜNEL, LOSING MICHAEL, POLICE EATING DINNER, BALKAN MUSIC, AND PAY TOILETS.

Bless your hearts for waiting. I will upload a picture of a kitten here tomorrow.

Where are Gondor's Armies?

This afternoon we went to the US Consulate in a northern section of the city, far removed from the hustle and bustle (but still full of hustle and bustle). The building was built in 2004, I believe, after the 2003 terrorist bombings of the British Consulate, two synagogues, and the HSBC building downtown, near the American Consulate's location in Beyoğlu. It is worth noting that the Brits decided to stay put, while the American government opted to construct what is, essentially, a fortress on a hill north of town. It has all the charm of a prison, and the warmth of a mausoleum. And it looks a lot like Minas Tirith mated with an Israeli settlement. 

I was surprised to see that most of the staff was actually Turkish, and would have expected to find Marines doing most of the security work. We met with a PR representative and an economic officer from the political section. He had his shit together, and had a pretty well-informed take on the situation. Turkey's unemployment rate, officially, is around 17%, and is likely much higher. Half of the population is under 25 years old, if I'm not mistaken. This is a young country with a rough road ahead, unless the GLOBAL FINANCIAL CRISIS eases. But even then, competition for university spots in Turkey remains insanely fierce, and those who don't get in are left wondering what they should do. He seemed to believe that Turkey was using the US military to form business links in Iraq, one of Turkey's greatest trading partners before the war, so that when the troops leave, Turkey will remain as the economic hegemon. Clever girl.

Before their presentation, they asked us all our names and what we studied, and hilariously, "what you know about Turkey." So one of the Ottoman history PhD students told them that his interest was in "prostitution in the late Ottoman period." I almost peed a little bit, I was trying so hard not to laugh. When other reps from State were talking, the grimaces on the Ottomanists' faces were hilarious. Our group was there for the whole thing, but the Yildiz Teknik Üniversitesi group got there late. The reason? Their bus was pulled over by the police because the driver was "talking on his cell phone" and did not pay attention to the fact that they were behind him, escorting some rich people, and wanted to pass. I didn't realize that there was such a thing as a traffic stop here, considering the fact that the "security briefing" they gave us at the consulate listed traffic as the greatest threat to our safety here. Actually the whole thing was hilarious, and I will share the best tidbits with you here.

1) "Drivers are aggressive and frequently ignore basic traffic regulations by driving through red lights and stop signs, or turning left from the far right lane. Pedestrians do not have the right of way, and extreme caution should be exercised when crossing streets."

2) "Avoid speaking with strangers on the street. Conversations can be a prelude to a criminal act."

3) "Do not accept food or drink from the [taxi] driver and practice good security by automatically recording the license or number of any taxi you enter."

Clearly, the Turks are out to get you. I have never heard of a taxi driver offering anyone something to eat or drink. What does the second point say about us? What does it imply for our interpersonal interactions with Turks, generally? That we only talk to them because we suspect they won't immediately pull a knife on us? Nonsense. Talk to strangers, if you are able! They love it when you speak Turkish! Anyway, as we were walking through the consulate toward the exit, there was a group of four Marines practicing their color guard march in the courtyard, and one of them came running over to us and invited us to their weekly Friday night open bar pizza parties. And by "invited us," I mean "invited the American girls." It was hilarious. I mean, I completely understand where the Marines are coming from, and actually am looking forward to partying with them on the Fourth of July, but the manner in which he invited us was so hilariously forward, and understandably so: he had just gotten off a tour in Kuwait. "He just got here from Kuwait," our guide said, "so he's got a sweet stereo." What the hell does that mean?

BTW: I just Obama-nated a fly right out of the air. 

After we left the consulate, our bus drove us straight to campus so we could attend the welcome reception for everyone in the Turkish Language and Culture Program. There was an open bar, but nobody really got drunk. The view was incredible, and I will post pictures soon. I spent a good deal of time chatting with the Turkish waiters and bartenders about what I study, the weather in DC, how it was built on a swamp, and why I like America but hated the consulate building and its location. They all seemed sympathetic to the idea that America could be a nice place, especially when I likened it to Turkey. Then, after I asked for a vodka and Coke, the bartender said I would have to tell him how to make it. 

Me: First, you add vodka...[he pours in a bit of vodka]...yes, exactly. Now add Coke...[he adds the Coke]...Yes. This is everything. Thank you.

Him: You don't use a lemon, or anything? 

Me: Why? This is how we drink in graduate school. Cheaply. 

Him: Interesting.

The waiters were constantly bringing us tasty Turkish finger foods, like sigara böreğiı, köfte, and deep fried cucumber. It was all fantastically delicious, and certainly warranted the horde of cats that descended upon us. I asked one of the waiters "will there be a war between them?" His reply: 

"The war has already begun." 

He gestured toward a "foreign" cat that was being menaced by the locals, and within seconds there was a tussle. One TA here described campus as "Cat Heaven," but I'm pretty sure it's like a cat refugee camp. They are entirely dependent upon the campus for sustenance, and are constantly at risk of being attacked by outside cats if they leave, and are not given any access to health care or education.

I forgot to mention earlier that an attractive woman handed me a free condom today just outside of campus. I thought it was a coupon at first, so I smiled and said "Thank you." Also misleading was the name on it: FIESTA! I was going to make a joke about how I had no use for a condom since I don't have a girlfriend, but caught myself right before doing so when I realized I was about to confuse the words for girlfriend,kız arkadaşı, and sister, kız kardeşi. So the interaction would have gone something like this:

Me: "When would I use this condom? I don't have a sister." 

Woman: "..."

Me: "Oh no."

Fiesta!

We Have a Watermelon Date

Last night, Michael and I ran into two girls from the beginner class and took them with us to get some bootleg (kaçak) DVDs. The selection was, as always, pretty impressive and disappointing at the same time. They are obsessed with movies about American serial killers at that shop. Ten copies of "Ed Gain." Lots of Japanese horror movies, and one that must have been American, called "Midnight Meat Train." I assume that is a horror movie, but whatever genre, it doesn't sound like something I would watch. We got "Up," "Eastern Promises," "Night at the Museum 2," and "Brick," which is an incredibly good film noir piece set in a high school. We watched "Up" and did our homework. That movie is just as good the second time, and in 2D shot with a camcorder.

I was pretty upset about a variety of things last night. Those who know me know what is going on, so I won't go into it here. Suffice it to say, I couldn't fall asleep until around 5:00am. When I finally woke up, it was 9:10, and classes start at 9:00. If I hadn't been so stressed out, it would have been hilarious. I tried hopping into my jeans and buttoning them, but my left arm was totally asleep, so it was just flapping at my side while the other hand one side of the button on them. I had to swing my arm into position to hold them up. I had to take a cab to class, but it only cost me 3TL, or $2. Not bad, all things considered. I also didn't have to run the 1 mile to the building, and show up winded and covered in sweat. I apologized profusely and blamed jet lag, which I am sure played a part. 

Today was the first trip to the language lab, or laboratuvar. This is, of course, not to be confused with lavatory, or lavotuvar. Because that would be RIDICULOUS. We watched a ten minute video about ebru, the Turkic and East Asian art of paper marbling. Since the man in the video must have had a disease that made him sound like he was talking with a wet sock in his mouth, I assume the process involves suspending ink in oils or other surfactants like a detergent (if they had them back then) on the surface of some water, and then using a brush or something to move them around and mix them on the surface, and then apply a paper to it. Bam. Marbled paper. The guy was blathering on about other stuff, and pulled out a roll of toilet paper from his desk, as if to say "be prepared to shit at your desk." So pack accordingly before you go to ebru camp. The gripping conclusion will be viewed next week, when we get to see him either marble some paper, or actually shit at his desk. Here's hoping it's the former. 

In conversation class, our first one so far, we learned the word for snorkel after I showed the class my photo of the harpoon fisher/Thunderball. You want to know what it is? Şnorkel. Shnorkel. Uninspired. I guess the Language Institute couldn't Turkify that business back in the 20s, and just gave up. Interesting side note: the scuba diving shop district (yeah, that's right) of the city is right near Dolmabahçe Palace in the Tophane/Kabataş. 

Our conversation instructor actually has a background in psychology and psychological counseling, and is getting a PhD now in...I want to say linguistics. She was talking about "ilk izlenimler," or first impressions. Our first impressions are made in less than a hundredth of a second, and studies have found that people shown a photo of a face for that long will write the same things about the image regardless of how long they have to view it. Wild. That got me thinking about what people would write under mine. 

 

1. Steals televisions and unsecured bikes.

2. Plays a rare instrument badly.

3. Owns a kiln.

We hit up the cheapest cafeteria on campus, which is dark, dank, and 2.25TL, but serves eggplant all the time. They ran out of watermelon, but the manager/doorman said that tomorrow, even if it is the last piece, he will save it for us. He of course said this to one of the girls in the group, but I like to think we all have a watermelon date with him. 

Jet Lag, You Monster!

My jet lag hit me like a bus today. I was sitting in my grammar class feeling sick, thinking I had picked up some god-awful intestinal or brain parasite from my soup or lahmacun, or maybe from all the street walkers I have been fooling around with. But as it turns out, I was just tired! I actually dozed off in my reading class for a second. That has only happened twice before in my life: once in German in high school, and once in Political and Social Thought in college. I blame the parents, and the schools.

Classes were fine, the teachers are all really friendly. Psh, how typical. I have Sümrü Hanım again! She didn't really recognize me, though. But I will also have Mine Hanım later in the summer, and she definitely will. She's a natural redhead, too. We have built-in radar, and if you look closely, you'll notice that when two of us stand by each other, the temperature in the room drops slightly. Trust me. My only regret is that my classroom is on the other side of the building, meaning my view is of the second Boğaziçi Bridge to the north, and the Bosphorus up that way. If that is my only complaint, you can imagine how things are going. Son of a bitch! My view is fucking beautiful, but not as beautiful as it COULD be! 

I hustled home after class to nap for two hours, during which I had the most incredible dream I have had in months. Some film crew was filming in my dream house, and taking up all the space with their supplies and fat crew members. So I went on the warpath, disrupted their filming and screaming expletives at the actors. Then, later, Samuel L. Jackson arrived with a production assistant carrying a bunch of alligators. He told me that he'd kill me if I told anyone about the movie he was filming, ostensibly "Alligators on a Boat." Then I woke up. I am sure I could have retold it better, but you likely don't even give a shit in the first place, so I won't waste even more of your time than I already do. 

I did some pleasure reading last night. Non-fiction. Salt, by Mark Kurlansky. FACT: the phrase "red herring" comes from the practice common among New England's colonial hunters of placing salted red herring at various points along their path in order to throw wolves off their scent. I drop mad science on you like it's my job. Conversation hour today was fun. My TA is very nice, and also very pretty! Unfortunately, as always, she has what is sure to be a super handsome boyfriend with a Peugeot and a Fauxhawk. I just got back, actually. She showed me afterwards where I could buy a cheap alarm clock, and you know what I did? I bought one. I bought one for 8TL, and the girl who worked there even put a battery in it for me, FREE OF CHARGE. Talk about service! My only hope is that it wasn't made in China...of lead and arsenic. I guess I'll find out tomorrow when the alarm goes off, and a cloud of chlorine gas shoots into my face. Ha! I hope there's a snooze button! 

I might use Nick's TRX thingy and work out a bit and shower before going to dinner somewhere, or maybe I will just nap. I am in no way worried about gaining any weight here, for three reasons: 

1) The food is much healthier, and I drink about 2 liters of water a day;

2) I walk about 4 miles per day, or 80km. I do this at the speed of sound.

3) Hakan the Otopark Attendant constantly refers to my weight loss, and has so much charisma that if I do gain weight, he could tell it to leave me alone and it would. Then it would probably go hassle some American women.

But anyway, it's time to do some homework and listen to some Orhan Gencebay.

Istanbul Taxi Drivers Don't Get Lost

Today was fun. We took our placement test today and then had our interviews. In between, we took a campus tour. It felt good being back in the class building, with its worn marble steps and heavy reliance on the sun for lighting. The program group was bigger than I had thought, and has a whole cast of characters, some of which I am sure will prove to be hilarious. The cats were out in force on campus today, and a tiny street kitten sidled up to me and sat on my lap. I want to get some food for them and keep it in my bag, so that I can make them follow me, and eventually train them to attack aggressive salesmen. The view on the way into campus remains incredible (the Bosphorus didn't get filled in while I was gone!), and it takes the edge off the uphill battle to get back to my dorm. Lunch today was with a group of people I had just met, which was fun. I am sticking to lahmacun and mercimek çorbası (lentil soup) for lunch, I think. It fills me up just long enough to get to dinner, and is relatively light and healthy, especially with the parsley and tomatoes and lemon. Riveting stuff, I know.

This afternoon we made the journey to the ARIT office in Arnavütköy, which is where we walked along the water the other night. We took two cabs because we were running short on time, and I showed one cabbie the address and even told him in clear, concise Turkish that it was after the Tevfikiye Mosque and before the Children's park. I got into the second cab (there were 6 of us) and told the driver to follow the first guy. The first guy got it completely wrong, and we ended up almost two miles past it. I kept telling my guy that something was wrong and that I was sure we missed it, and he ignored me. So then I finally said that we absolutely missed it, and that he needed to call the other driver. We got dropped off and paid twice what we should have had to pay. It was frustrating. My friend in the other cab told her driver that she was worried they had missed it, and flat out asked if he was lost. His reply: "Cab drivers from Istanbul cannot get lost." He is right. They don't get lost, they just give you the run around. It was totally his fault, too. Turns out, he was thinking of a mosque with a similar name and misheard me, even though I spoke and showed him the name. Boom. Roasted. 

We had a brief orientation at ARIT and were informed we would have to go to the consulate for yet another orientation later this week. Hurray. But the highlight of the day came shortly afterward, when we went to Bodrum Mantı & Cafe. Mantı is essentially Turkish lasagna, small dough slices wrapped around filling and steamed, usually, but this place served them fried, too. I got a mix of spinach-filled and cheese-filled fried mantı, and while eating tried to identify the famous Turks whose pictures were on the wall. Each featured them sitting awkwardly at a table in the restaurant, looking surprised to see a camera. Many of the women and men looked like they had serious sunglass-tans, to the point where the must have been trying to get one. The more I learn about this place, the less I understand. Meanwhile, I am still coping with my v-neck burn. Aloe vera here costs 28TL per bottle, so that falls under the "no fucking way" category. Grin and bear it.

Just got back from a nearby hookah bar called Balkon that was really cheap, largely because the staff liked the girls I was with. They kept giving us free stuff: melon, tea, discounted hookah. We played backgammon and dama, which is apparently Turkish checkers, and fought off some monstrous insects. Does anyone know what an earwig actually does? One of the girls had cooked up a hilariously deadpan lie about them, and how they eat your brain, but can only burrow in a straight line, and the only cause for concern is if their eggs hatch in the middle. 

I'd be curious to know just how loud I have to shout "what the shit" the next time I see one on me. As I headed back toward my dorm, the otopark attendant, Hakan, came out to chat for a minute. We were talking about where I had been, and then out of nowhere he said "Bush used to be president. Now Obama. Most young Americans, I mean, college aged kids, they are now Democrats, and like Obama." I told him that was probably true, and that we should talk more about that Friday, when he works again. He said okay, so I think I will try and see what he thinks of Obama, as a Turkish nationalist. My guess is he doesn't know yet, but from what I have heard, most preferred Hillary Clinton or McCain to him. Hakan is hilarious. He gave me an "Arnold Schwarzeneggar and Carl Weathers' reunion in Predator-style" high five tonight, and only stopped chatting when he noticed the group of girls waiting for me. MORE AS IT DEVELOPS!

Tomorrow we get our test results (again, hopefully not embarrassing) and begin classes in earnest. Still no alarm clock. Tomorrow I will wake up by the good graces of my friends here gently rapping at my chamber door. 

This post was admittedly subpar. I am not feeling particularly inspired right now for some reason. Maybe it's the hookah, maybe it's the fact that I'm miffed by a first impression I made tonight, or rather, that was made on me, by a girl here. Just awful. But I will only expand on that if it becomes an issue later. I'll give her a second chance not to fuck it up. TTYL OMFG!

Update

Tonight consisted of a meeting, seeing all the other folks in the program together for the first time, and then getting free shit at dinner for bringing in 14 customers to a kebap place. Post that, there was some negotiating with a man selling what were clearly stolen goods out of the back of his van about acquiring a mattress pad. He said he could have one for me by tomorrow at 4:00pm. My concern is that he completely misunderstood me, and that he will actually try and sell me a human skull for 15TL. Should I go see him again? Maybe. Maybe I want a human skull. After the talks concluded, a bunch of us headed home before going to "Bu Cafe," the glorious gem of a hangout that I only discovered on my last day in Istanbul 3 years ago, but plan on spending plenty of time at this go-around. Passing by the gate to our dorm, though, the otopark attendend, Hakan, stopped us to chat with me and the girls I was with (guess which he was more interested in). Two of them are of Turkish extraction, and a hilarious conversation ensued in which he flatly stated that Turkey is the best country on earth, and moreover that one Turk is worth five Americans. When I challenged this, he smiled and said that despite this, we could still be friends. Dave, is this the guy who was into the Bozkurtlar? 

At Bu Cafe, we played tavla, talked about Bosnia, learned Dama (Turkish checkers), listened to Emin tell jokes about men from Montenegro, and smoked the best mint hookah I've ever tasted. Also, some people got some hazelnut flavored vodka, which I tasted and found to be surprisingly good. Good luck finding that anywhere. So weird. Anyway, tomorrow morning is the placement test and the interviews, so I am going to call it an early night. Tomorrow, news of the test, perhaps a trip to the store for shirts, and maybe, just maybe, a festively Bedazzled human skull. 

New! Stuffed Crust Pizza!

In case you needed further proof that Turkey is going places in the world, from the bus back today I saw a house-sized billboard advertising Pizza Hut's NEW Stuffed Crust Pizza. Cheese is literally stuffed into the crust! HAVE YOU HEARD OF THIS BEING DONE BEFORE???

Today was fun, if not too taxing (so far). We all got less than 6 hours of sleep due to bad mattresses, jet lag, and an obnoxiously long 4:30am call to prayer. Seriously, it lasted about 20 minutes because the muezzins don't all synchronize their watches. There ought to be a law! Anywho, breakfast was four crackers and some raspberry jelly. The Turks call them ahududu. Try saying that, it's fun. We all got new roommates today as more foreigners arrive to the program. Michael and I haven't met ours yet, but there was more water in the fridge when we got back than when we left, so unless we have a stalker with a key, there's a new dude here. Some of the girls got a Japanese (they say) roommate who doesn't really speak English. We set out to get everyone some Akbils (the awesome equivalent to the SmarTrip), but everywhere we looked today they were SOLD OUT. We suspect a city-wide conspiracy, or at the very least a ship carrying them sank somewhere in the Black Sea. Months from now, millions will wash up along the shores of the city, to the delight of children and parents alike. 

Bus led to tram, which meant air conditioning, and that took us to Sultanahmet, the über-touristy spot that has the coolest stuff ever: The Blue Mosque, the Aya Sofya (closed today), and the Basilica Cistern. We got pictures of the first two, and will be back to go inside, but the goal today was the Cistern, which is honestly alongside the Aya Sofya (Hagia Sophia) as my favorite spot in the city. It used to be the underground reservoir for the city when it was Constantinople, and was built by the Romans. It is huge, and used to hold a lot more water (see James Bond paddle across it in "From Russia, With Love") but is now empty enough to allow people to walk along elevated paths. The acoustics are incredible, the lighting perfect, and the columns beautiful. There is usually some nice flute music playing over some speakers, which really completes the vibe for me. I don't think pictures really do it justice, since they often turn out poorly due to the lighting, so I took some video. Although, I must say, my new camera is kickass, and has a max ISO setting of 3200. Bam. Instant daylight. Here is a bit from my slow walkthrough:

NOTE: Sorry, apparently this site decreases the video quality, so it actually is really dark. I will try to upload a better version to Flickr.

There are two columns that have huge sculptures of Medusas at their base, each turned to a side or upside down to prevent her spell from turning onlookers to stone. The explanatory plaques, which are always hilarious, consistently referred to the "rumour of Medusa" rather than the "legend." Hilarious. This from a language that has an entire verb tense designed for gossip. The irony of having ancient statues of a woman who turns the men who ogle her to stone sitting in the middle of this city is lost on most Turks, I gather. Lunch found us in a place called "Coffee Me," but I had them "Akdeniz Pizza Menü" me with an iced tea for 8.50TL. I should point out that the Y has been dropped from YTL, and now we just say Türk Lirası. Apologies for the inconsistency, I was clearly out of the loop. Two African Americans college-aged kids from Oakland, a guy and his cute girlfriend, sat next to us, and we chatted briefly about their trip. They loved Amsterdam, hated Frankfurt, and love Istanbul. That was honestly the first time I had met a black American tourist here, and it was refreshing to know that this place isn't just the refuge of dusty white Ottoman historians and sock/sandle-wearing Germans. 

We checked out the Hippodrome and chatted with a simit seller there about his trade and hometown. He asked me if my parents were also Turkish after talking to the Turkish girl in our group. Ha! Mark that well, folks. Gringo here can be a Turk, too. He asked me what I wanted to gain by studying Turkish, and I suspect he was skeptical, since he had just finished talking about how bad Europe was for Turkey. So I just simply said I wanted the two countries and cultures to get closer. That seemed to surprise him, and we left it at that. I am probably going to sport a V-neck sunburn this week, albeit a subdued, or "shallow" one. Maybe I'll start wearing a huge Kyrgyz akkalpak. One of the huge felt hats that look like a sunhat. If I find one...

TODAY I MUST BUY AN ALARM CLOCK, and if I can, a mattress pad (döşek yastığı), and some more t-shirts. There is still time. We have a meeting in an hour, and then tomorrow morning is our placement test. Hopefully I don't embarrass myself.

Zayıfladın!

I just noticed that my Google is in Turkish. Neato. Anyway, today was a pretty fun, relaxing jaunt through the neighborhood. We all woke up at 1:00pm, or at least that is when we all officially were out of bed. I, on the other hand, was woken up THREE goddamned times by one of the dorm managers who first asked me what program I was with; second, wanted to move someone else into the apartment with us, which I cleverly avoided; and finally, wanted to know why my roommate and I had taken rooms that did not coincide with our assigned keys (answer: because they were bigger and there was no one else moving in with us). They also scolded me for storing my empty suitcases in an empty room, and the guy's scrawny henchman actually commanded me to "pick it up." The goal is to win over the support of the see-through shirt-with-wife-beater-underneath-wearing official and his ilk through kindness and curiosity. People love talking about themselves (see above), and I have found that Turks, to generalize, enjoy it as much as Americans do, but especially when you ask. Bingo bango bongo. 

Anyway, after we all had our fill of sitting around and thinking about going to the grocery store, we actually went to the grocery store. Got the essentials: 8 gallons of water, some crackers, olives, glasses, and a watermelon. The watermelon remains whole because we couldn't find a store open today that would sell us a knife serious enough to do some damage to it. Tomorrow we'll have much better luck, as all the knifesmiths will be well-rested and eager to show off their wares. Before shopping, though a cool thing happened. We were grabbing lunch at one of the kebab places right outside the university gates, and I saw my old TA from 2006, Kadir, crossing the street. Naturally, I stood up and hollered his name, drawing attention to the fact that I am an idiot, and what's more, an idiot with a full beard and fiery red hair. I try not to embarrass my family, I really do. Kadir saw me, smiled, and came over to chat. He'll actually be teaching grammar this summer to the intermediate kids. It was really cool to see him, and was the second instance of someone recognizing me, or knowing people I know. 

The third came a couple hours later, as we headed back out from the dorm to descend the infamous Bebek hill to the Bebek neighborhood below us. Bebek means "baby," and I am honestly not sure how your neighborhood gets that name unless it is particularly fertile. I saw a few kids, but tons of stray dogs. Big ones. My guess is there has been a horrifying adjustment to the food chain down there. Anyway, as we left the dorm, the security guard at the gate was letting a car pass through, and signaled for us to watch out as the gate swing back down. We passed by, and he called after me, in Turkish, "This is your second year here, right?" He said he remembered me from last summer, and I said "No, it was 2006," and he said "Aha! You're right! You've gotten thinner!" (Alternate translation of the word: "You have developed an illness!") I love Turkey! He remembered me so well that he knew I was a bit huskier last time. Incredible. Then I found out he remembered Ben and Dave (Davut!), especially, very well. Dave, did you and this guy kill somebody together and dispose of the body in the Otopark?

Bebek was fun. Waffle sellers (the pimped out, candied up kind) everywhere, corn carts with headlights, and of course the insufferable drunken fishermen along the waterfront. We walked probably three or four miles, roundtrip, and the weather was beautiful the entire time. So beautiful, in fact, that some crazies came out. Not to be outdone by the fishermen using simple rods and bait, one man donned, I shit you not, a full wetsuit, goggles, and a snorkel, and was ARMED WITH A HARPOON GUN standing in waist-high water. When we arrived, he was reloading it and poking his head underwater to spot a fish or maybe an escaped prisoner to shoot. Not wanted to find out the hard way whether he knew how to use the thing or not, we moved along. He looked straight out of Thunderball. Wait for the photograph. 

Dinner consisted, for me, of a cheese sandwich for the second night in a row. Granted, tonight's featured a different style of bread and a different style of cheese, and was on a rooftop overlooking the Bosphorus and surrounded by disco and techno clubs, but I think tomorrow I might go out on a limb and order something recognizably meaty. Someone else ordered kumpir, which is a baked potato stuffed with so much that it honestly looks like you're eating the contents of a potato's stomach. Delicious image. On the way to dinner, we saw (and immediately pledged to one day imitate) a 70 year-old man on rollerblades. He was fabulous. He looked like the stereotypical old Turkish man, but on rollerblades: short, stocky, with a mustache flapping in the wind and a woolen vest over a white shirt. He must have gained his inspiration from the new "Fitness Parks" that have sprung up along the waterfront, which feature fitness equipment designed for bodyweight exercises to be used by the neighborhood, outdoors, for free. We availed ourselves of the facility for a bit, although some of the devices made no sense, like one which featured two dials with handles for you to turn really fast. I guess it could be useful if you're training to flip your taxi, but hey, I'm not a scientist. There were a couple of women in hijabs grooving on the pseudo-ellipticals while their kids played on the jungle gym. One in our group pointed out that these machines are incredibly dangerous for kids, especially the leg press device, which could easily function as a convenient skull-fracturer to help you get to those delicious brains. But hey, it's good to see public spaces improved, and I love brains. Win-win.

We walked back up the murder hill, and managed to not get hit by the intrepid taxi drivers and pizza delivery guys gunning it up the hill as hard and fast as their 2-cylinder buggies could carry them. Tea was sipped, künefe (picture a huge Frosted Mini Wheat drowned in honey) was devoured, and plans made for a pre-1:00pm wake-up time were made. And so now, I must leave you to try and upload the first batch of admittedly mediocre photos to my Flickr account. 

Goodnight, Moon! 

İstanbul'a Hoş Geldiniz!

It is 4:20am in İstanbul, and I'm not tired. After 37 hours of constant motion, though, I am ready to try and sleep. We bussed it from our hotel in DC to Dulles, which almost feels like going out of town in itself, and hopped on our seven hour Lufthansa flight to Frankfurt. Those who know me well know that I studied German for eight years but have never been to Germany, so imagine my excitement to be stuck in a plane FULL of Germans for a trip across the Atlantic to GERMANY. The reality of the situation was that we were in "economy class," which is apparently German for "No in-flight entertainment." Well, apart from the complimentary beer and wine and schnapps. They skipped my row on the schnapps, probably because we availed ourselves of every opportunity to refill our glasses. Apart from the turbulence, the most exciting part of the flight was the "relaxation channel" on the in-flight radio, which featured a German man explaining the causes of jet lag and methods of correcting it set to the music of what must have been Brian Eno's much less talented younger brother.

It is worth noting, right now, that the call to prayer has commenced. It's 4:30am. Unlike New York, this city never sleeps because they let old men on minarets scream into megaphones all hours of the night.

Upon arrival in Frankfurt we took one of their "trains" from our terminal to the next, and even asked for information in German. Talk about exciting. Seriously, pretty cool to be able to use both your foreign languages in a single day, in their respective countries. It was reassuring to find out my German is still good enough to interact with flight attendants, ornery passengers, and an elderly Kurdish man! He sat next to me on the Frankfurt-İstanbul leg of the trip, and was telling the flight attendant "Mach du zwei Kaffee!" [Approx: "You make two coffees!"] Polite German would be something to the tune of "Dürfen wir bitte zwei Kaffee haben?" ["May we please have two coffees?"] The guy was a German citizen whose passport was so old it was in black and white, but his German was worse than mine was sophomore year of high school. I know I'm usually the first to jump to the defense of migrant populations, but this guy clearly had the financial means to learn it and the time, too.

Clearing the Turkish visa line is a snap if you have a passport and $20. They barely look at you twice. No application, no questionnaire, not even a bribe. I guess we can't all be post-Soviet. We were met by a woman from our program and took a chartered shuttle bus through the city to our dorm. The ride was incredible. This place has changed a lot in three years. New construction continues despite the economy. It looks as though all the dolmuşlar have been upgraded or painted, and there is a really cool new metrobus system in the middle of the highway that reserves two fenced off lanes exclusively for the triple-length Mercedes Benz buses to zoom along the highway. Something tells me a trip on one is in my future. But lots feels new about the city, like it got an upgrade, or like its economic growth finally caught up with it. A 3 hour nap is all the sleep I have had since 7:00am Friday, but it was well worth it, because we set out for food at my favorite dürüm place near campus, and then for Taksim Square with a friend of a friend, both of whom apparently know Ben and Dave. Big plus. Taksim was Taksim: absurd, mind-blowing, and clad in tight jeans and aggressive V-neck shirts. I got a lot of stares this time, if not for my hair than for my beard. It may actually get to the point where it comes off. We'll see.

I saw not one, but three fights tonight. I have to say, they were really crappy. They weren't just shouting matches, either. The guys were really pissed at each other and seemed to want to hurt each other, but they failed miserably. Two guys were trying to kick one another, and it was pretty hilarious. I had a hard time taking them serious as they struggled to get their legs up anywhere close to their waists in their tight jeans. They were spouting off about skull fucking each other and all sorts of great stuff you would never expect from a 5'6", 120 pound man with a faux-hawk and a hot pink shirt. Anyway, nothing came of them. Hopefully my luck continues and I don't end up witnessing a real fight, or worse, getting trapped somewhere by one. But again, hot pink shirts and 120 pounds.

We started our night at an outdoor (of course) bar off İstiklal Caddesi, sipping on some Efes beer, which tasted better than I recalled. There was a guy standing at a podium across from us selling tequila shots for 4 YTL (New Turkish Lira), or about $2.60. I got a picture with him, but declined the tequila, thanks to an experience I had with my Mexican roommate last time I was here, in which we consumed an entire bottle between the two of us, and he proceeded to slap my chest and say "Pendejo." After Kadir left us, we got some ice cream and then went dancing at a rooftop club, where I chatted with a guy about his upcoming work exchange trip to New York. He was sincerely concerned about H1N1, and I told him to stay away from the Bronx and wash his hands. I didn't want to tell him that he was probably more at risk living here, because hey, it'd be tactless. I am feeling good about this group of people already, given that it is our first night and we were out until 4:00am. There are a bunch of awesome concerts coming up that I will try and get to, including Orbital, Boban Markovic Orkester, Depeche Mode (AGAIN!), and the İstanbul Jazz Festival. Tomorrow I want to try and find some hangers and get a big bottle of water, some notebooks, pens, and all that jazz. I will try and fire up the Flickr account, too. Stay tuned!