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.
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