Language Barriers

So, I have some language barriers here. Apart from the people I go to school with, and a handful of people that work for the language institution at which I am studying, nobody here speaks English. Not even four fifths of the people I share a home with.

This is problematic for obvious reasons. But never is it more so than when I want to communicate my appreciation to my host family. Today my host mom and two sisters went down by the shore of the Gulf of Gemlik. It is very pretty down there - the shore is lined with big rocks and a wide walkway runs a long length of it with a few playgrounds and brick outdoor grills here and there. Günce and Nehir ran to the nearest playground, and after a trip or two down the twisty slide I sat on the rocks next to Gönül.

One might expect us to chat. One would be on the right track, but one would definitely be neglecting the fact that Gönül speaks almost no English, and I speak but a smattering of Turkish. We sat there awkwardly for a couple of minutes. I looked at her, she looked at me. She held up a bag of sunflower seeds and offered me some in Turkish. I said evet, only because holding up a bag of sunflower seeds and pointing at it pretty effectively communicates what you're getting at, even if your words are not understood. I took some and popped a handful in my mouth, and she burst into laughter. What? What did I do? I thought. Then she took a seed, carefully wedged it between her front teeth, and bit down, simultaneously sucking the seed out of the inside. (Bear in mind, Turkish sunflower seeds bear little resemblance to American ones. I don't know why.) I shrugged, and pulled an empty shell out of my mouth and flicked it on the ground. She laughed even harder.

We spent the next hour alternating between laughing hysterically and looking up words in my Turkish/English dictionary. There is something truly hilarious about not being able to communicate with someone. As long as you're not in dire straits and there's no reason for the language barrier to be a serious issue, it's actually pretty fun trying to find every means necessary of getting across something as simple as "I want more seeds." All I can manage at this point is "Daha istiyorum." (I want more.)

We talked about the sea. We talked about seagulls. We talked about rocks. And by "talked about" I mean we said things like "There is the sea." "There are seagulls." "There is a rock." Sometimes I'd look up a word and try to pair it with the one or two verbs I happen to know from wandering around Turkish towns for the last week, and I still won't manage to relay my point. That's when she just throws her head back and laughs, and I throw my arms in the air and say "anlamıyorum!" ("I do not understand!"). She laughs at me every time I say "evet," "tamam," "çok," or "az," because they're the only words I'm really sure of at this point.

I'm glad she's entertained. I'm glad I'm not the only one who finds this whole situation simultaneously hilarious and infuriating. I mean, all she wants to do most of the time is feed me, and even THAT can be a chore. Despite the fact that Gönül is Jane Goodall to my chimpanzee-like state, we seem to have a very basic understanding of each other. I can tell by how much we end up laughing like idiots.

A Busy Day of Nothing

I expected to start classes today, but I didn't. The more advanced students had to take an oral language test to place them in the correct class, which meant that those few of us who hadn't started learning Turkish officially at all had nothing to do today.

It did start pouring rain in Bursa, however. That was exciting. I hadn't seen rain like that since summer in Tucson. And like Tucson, Bursa has no gutters or drainage system. Within minutes the streets were so flooded cars couldn't pass through and water was washing up in waves onto the sidewalks. Of course, I was out in the rain when it started, and my Resident Director and I ended up having to grab a taxi cab just to get to our destination, which was two blocks away, since the streets were impassable by foot.

When I got home, Günce helped me practice vocabulary.

"Edermisin?" I asked her. Can you help me? She came and sat by me on the couch.

"Bunun adı nedir?" I asked, having to peek at my notebook each time to remember how to say it. (Eyüp was on the other couch, continually reminding me of the proper way to say my undotted I's). What is the name of this?

Then I drew a series of pictures in my notebook, and Günce wrote the Turkish word for it below. She found it delightful, and I found it extremely helpful. The beginning of a wonderful and fruitful symbiotic relationship! Mouse. Fare. Sun. Güneş. Moon. Ay.

And also, Nehir sang me the most adorable freakin' song in the whole wide world.

Acar Household

This is the story of how I found a new family. I did a number of exciting things today, including visiting the Grand Bazaar in İstanbul, where I bartered (and still likely paid too much) for a number of pretty but unnecessary items. I also took a ferry across a small gulf to eventually reach my new home of Bursa. But none of those are the interesting bits of my story.

We arrived via bus at Tömer Institute in Bursa. Since my host dad words at the institute, he and his entire family were already there waiting for me. Eyüp, his wife Gönül, nine-year-old Günce, and four-year-old Nehir. It was clear from the moment I walked into the door the little girls knew who I was. Apparently Eyüp had shown them photos of me from facebook, and they picked me out of the crowd immediately. Nehir buried her face in her mom’s legs, and Günce just stared at me with big brown eyes, smiling only when I smiled at her first.

Introductions were decidedly short. Since my Turkish is still limited to the few phrases I’ve learned to get me by, and since only Eyüp can speak English, there wasn’t much communication to be had.

“Nasılsın?” I asked, after saying merhaba to each of them. Luckily they answered in the only way I could understand – iyi, or çok iyi, (“How are you?” “good,” or “very good”). Nehir still wouldn’t unbury herself from her mother.

Eyüp had to help my fellow students find their respective families, leaving me in his office with the rest of the family, none of whom I can communicate with. They ended up teaching me how to say my age in Turksish, and it took a good solid two minutes for me to deduce what Gönül was trying to tell me, which was that there are thirteen years between our ages. There was a lot of nervous laughter, and me shaking my head and mumbling “Oh, God” under my breath while still maintaining a smile.

Nehir and Günce are adorable in the best sense of the word. They both have straight brown hair and dark, almost black eyes. I squeezed in between them in the back seat on the way to Gemlik. Nehir immediately started poking my arm, and when I’d poke her back she’d giggle and squeal. We also practiced our counting together – bir, ikı, uç, dırt, beş, altı, yedi, sekiz, dokuz, on. But, in a cruel twist of irony, the four-year-old could count much higher and much faster, my talents dwindling around twelve or thirteen and hers shooting well into the eighties and nineties. I bet she thinks she’s a genius.

Günce was relatively quiet, until she reached up and touched my hair. Oh yes, the blonde. Right. So I leaned in, and she took a handful and ran her fingers through it. Then a strand of it fell in my face, as per usual, and she immediately brushed it out of my eyes. As Nehir leaned over and rested her head on my arm, pretending to sleep, I started quizzing Günce in order to build my vocabulary.

I pointed to my tooth. “Diş,” she replied.

I pointed to my lip. “Dudak.”

She took the initiative and circled her finger around her mouth. “Ağız.” I had to repeat that one a few times (the accented G is silent, the undotted i is a whole other beast I have yet to tackle).

Then she was on a roll. Nose, cheek, chin, ear, eye…burun, yanak, çene, kulak, ilik. And then she helped me spell all of them using the Turkish alphabet, not the slightest hint of frustration or impatience in her demeanor. It is a bizarre notion that these two children can simultaneously accept the fact that I do not speak their language, and yet never once grow perturbed or ever tire of helping me learn. If you want to learn a language, hire a kid. They have infinite patience, and you could probably pay them in gummy bears or something.

After a few more games of poke-the-girl-who-speaks-English in the car, we pulled up to the Acar family’s flat in Gemlik. Their flat overlooks the Sea of Marmara, so when you open the living room curtains you look out over a gleaming blue sea with a backdrop of hilltop homes and buildings. I mean damn, that’s awesome. A few people emerged from surrounding flats, staring at us. Two elderly women sat on a bench outside the building. “Merhaba!” I said, and they replied in kind with big toothy smiles. Eyüp showed me to my room (complete with TV and my own desktop computer) and showed me around the flat. It’s a lovely place, decorated very modern with a sleek flatscreen TV in the living room and angular white/brown furniture. Immediately I got a taste of the legendary Turkish hospitality. I sat on the couch while Nehir played intently with my hair, pulling it up on top of my head then letting it fall back down, squealing a number of things in Turkish, while Eyüp asked me a series of questions. “You want to eat now? You want to shower first? Maybe you go unpack your things? You want some cola? Chai? Coffee?” Oh God. Uh, let me think. Well food’s probably a given. I’m always hungry. Ok, let’s do that. Shrek was on the TV at the time, dubbed into Turkish. I watched the little birdie explode after the Princess sang that really high note and realized the part where she’s singing is probably the only part of the movie they didn’t have to dub the voices into.

But first, Gönül asked Eyüp to ask me (you can see where this gets frustrating) how tall I am.

“I don’t know, 5’9 or 5’10?” I answered.

“No no no, in metric!” He replied. Great. Another thing I don’t know.

Eyüp guessed I was about 180 centimeters, then Günce took my hand and led me into her and Nehir’s bedroom. She pointed at the side of the bureau where a height measurement sticker thingy had been attached. She pointed at it. I shook my head, stood next to it, and then moved my hand from the top of my head to the bureau to show her I was much taller than the chart reached. She laughed, and then Gönül got the tape measure. She had me stand up against the bureau, and marked my height with a pencil. 176, it turns out – Eyüp was only four centimeters off in his estimation. So let me just reiterate – the absolute first thing that happened the first night in my host family house was I got measured. How awesome is that?

Then Gönül, an absolutely lovely woman, served all of us dinner. DINNER. HOME MADE TURKISH FOOD. I can’t even talk about it. So good. Oh so good. Çok guzel, people. “Do you want more? Have you had enough? Would you like more rice?” Who am I to say no to food? Eyüp took out a digital camera and took a photo of me and Günce on one side of the table. He said something in Turkish, and I asked him to translate. “I said, I’m taking a photo of Günce and Nehir eating dinner with their older sister!”

After I unpacked my bags and distributed my Nebraska-themed gifts (including, but not limited, to Dorothy Lynch dressing, corn cob jelly, and two stuffed animals – a cow and an ear of corn) Eyüp initiated some very enlightening conversation. We had all been warned from day one to tread lightly on topics like government and religion, but I didn’t even have to say anything while Eyüp explained in detail how he felt about a number of things. “I have two little girls! How could I expect them to wear a head covering? Maybe the man should wear the head covering.”

My brain became too fried to function, so here I am in bed, contemplating the true extent of the last thing Eyüp said to me before I went to bed. “Iyi geceler,” I said, good night, and I apologized again for being so tired and out-of-it. “It is ok,” he replied. “You are not a guest in this home, you are our family.”

Having as deep a chasm as language barrier between you and most of the people you share a home with is easily the most exhausting thing in the world you could experience. But I guess if I ever get too stressed I could just ask Nehir to play with my hair some more.

İstanbul and the Bosphorus

I'd rather you just look at my pictures. There's not too much I can say here. We started our morning with a boat tour on the Bosphorus (the strait that runs through İstanbul, separating the European and Asian sides, joining the Black Sea and the Sea of Marmara) that took us between both bridges that cross Thrace/Anatolia. Then we docked and had lunch, and toured the major areas one is supposed to tour in İstanbul. Ayasofya (Hagia Sofia), Sultanahmet Camii (The Blue Mosque), Topkapı Sarayı (Palace used administratively by Ottomans for many centures - even has a Harem!), and the Roman Cistern. One wonders how places like this could even feasibly still be standing. The weight of the history resting on these buildings is palpable - maybe that's why they're almost always covered in scaffolding :\ . You could spend hours just lying on your back in the middle of Sultanhamet Camii, staring at the ceiling. Unless you're a woman, of course...in which case the middle is inaccessible to you. ;) İstanbul is a city that has had three major civilizations call it Capital, and as you speed up the Bosphorus on a boat, you really get a sense for why the city has been so economically important for so long. Oh, to dredge the bottom of the Bosphorus to see what I could find...

I walked all day, and now I'm tired. We have to get up very early in the morning to meet with the American Embassy, then I'll finally be off to meet my host family in Bursa. Güle güle, ve iyi geceler!

See my full photo album here: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2298523&id=17204221&l=0580868f23

Ayasofya

Entrance to Sultanhemet Camii (The Blue Mosque)

Inside Ayasofya

Some totally sweet lookin' tiles in Topkapı Palace

(in)authentic Bellydancing

I was issued my official Turkish cell phone today. Having a cell phone in your pocket, even if it's one only a handful of people can actually call you on, really produces a level of normalcy that is comforting. If all else fails, I can pull it out of my pocket and push some buttons, even if I can't actually use it to call anyone at home :)

Our big event for last night was a dinner in Taksim Square, at a restaurant called Sultanas. The sub-title is "1001 Turkish Nights," if that gives you any sort of idea. Taksim Square is a major tourist destination in İstanbul, and Sultanas couldn't have been more kitschy. But a good sort of kitschy :)

It started with a long bus ride from the Asian side of town to the European. This took me once again over the bridge that crosses the Bosphorus, which is easily the coolest thing I've ever seen so far. Since I don't have any photos of it yet, just go Google İstanbul and Bosphorus. We're taking a boat tour today, so that should afford me plenty of opportunity for fantastic pictures.

Traffic in İstanbul is terrifying. Cars dart in and out of each other with little regard for who's around them. There's no such thing as traffic lights, absolutely no attention paid to painted lane lines, and a lot of honking. It's also congested, which is why we eventually found ourselves stuck next to another bus to our left, full of Turks. Some of the girls behind me got a little giggly, since apparently there was a young Turkish guy on that bus looking into the windows of our bus and smiling. Eventually I looked over, deciding that the rule about not making eye contact with male Turks is probably safely ignored if he's locked in another bus next to mine. He's already looking at me, and pointing to me. I point to myself.

"Me?" I'm clearly indicating.

He nods. Then he makes a hand gesture, sort of a fingers-to-thumb Italian looking gesture, then points to me again. I immediately turn around and ask a more fluent speaker of Turkish on my bus what that means.

"I think it means you're beautiful," she said.

I looked back at him, pointed at myself, and he nodded. So I gave him a thumbs up and a smile, and we pulled ahead. Another girl on the bus noticed the gesture we were recreating, and looked shocked.

"That means fuck you!" She said. Say whaaaat?

So after a series of arguments among the students who had been to İstanbul before, each of us on the bus creating the hand gesture and probably getting laughed at by the guy in the bus next to us, it was finally determined that it does, indeed, mean "You're beautiful." I was pleased. Not that it would have really mattered either way, but you definitely get a sense of the deep chasm of language and culture that rests between Americans and Turks when you have to spend ten minutes debating whether a guy has just complimented you, or insulted you. I like to think it was the blonde hair.

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Dinner was, apparently, inauthentic. Not that I'd have any idea, mind you, but according to the well-traveled among us, it was far from legitimately Turkish. But a busty lady shook various body parts at us while we loaded up on food and I tried to choke down some rakı, so I can't claim it wasn't an altogether entertaining evening. Another blog very shortly, as I'm finishing this one having just returned from my first major excursion out into İstanbul. Güle güle for now!

İskender ve su! İskender ve su!

This was the first meal I ordered in Turkish. An İskender is a totally AWESOME lamb kebab, and su is "water." I literally said, "İskender and water." I could have spruced it way up by adding "lütfen" (please), but I didn't want to push my luck.

İstanbul is alien to me. You can see the sea of red clay roofs are visible fairly quickly after driving away from Atatürk Airport, with the occasional spire of a mosque poking into the air, like a series of toothpicks dotting the low skyline. I cannot read a single word on a single sign in the whole city. I cannot understand a single word spoken by a single person I encounter. But it's kind of cool that way.

First, because they expect it. I'm blonde. The natural assumption is that I cannot speak Turkish. I have had to remember not to smile if I make eye contact with anyone, especially males...social norms dictate that it isn't quite the friendly innocent gesture it is in the States.

I am staying for three days at Yeditepe Üniversitesi in İstanbul during in-country orientation. They're going to take us out on touristy-type excursions for a couple of days - Hagia Sofia and the like. I haven't slept for thirty-some hours, my legs feel like jelly, but I'm enjoying İskender with some fellow Turkish learners in the student union at Yeditepe, watching the US v. Slovenia match. It is an unbelievably pleasant experience. Pictures soon!

Some realizations

So here's what I'm realizing as I do more reading about Bursa.

It's perfect for me.

As much as I was interested in going to Istanbul since there's simply more there to see, I was apprehensive about a) spending my time in a really ginormous mega-city, and b) living in dorms surrounded by Americans instead of a host family. Not only am I staying with a host family in Bursa, it's also much much smaller than Istanbul, but by no means short on exciting things to see.

I'm not a "go-outer." I don't, therefore, "go out." I have a general distaste for clubbing and social situations with large groups of people, and anybody I ask about Istanbul mentions its busy night life. Not so much for me. Bursa, however, has more mosques and early Ottoman mausoleums than any other city in the country. It has art museums, archaeology museums, quiet sunny shopping bazaars, and is the HOME (I repeat, the ORIGIN of) the Donner Kebab. Now might be a good time to remind everyone that I am infinitely more excited for the food than anything else.

Not only will I have the benefit of a native host family to show me the ropes, as it were, I will also be in a slower, quieter city where I will likely feel comfortable taking my time, walking around, enjoying the sights, buying Ottoman coinage at various antique stores, et cetera.

So right now, as I lay here waiting for Puppy Dog to get done with his hair cut, I am just really super super excited. It will be a simply exquisite place to spend my summer.

Bursa, Turkey - June 15 to August 16

Oh boy! A new excuse to blog! I just found out today that I will be in Bursa, Turkey for two months this summer. I will be there taking part in the Critical Languages Scholarship Program (totally unaffiliated with this blog, btw), learning the Turkish language and becoming all culturally diverse.

I don't speak a lick o' Turkish, but I suppose that's why I'm going, right? My hope is to put this experience toward what will be a long-term goal of learning Ottoman Turkish. Random, you say? Well the Ottomans had a very important trade relationship with England in the 16th and 17th centuries, and lots of people in English Lit studies read English texts (duh) about the Ottomans, but damnit somebody's got to read the Ottoman texts about England. If they exist. Guess I'll find out, huh!

So I shall blog here soon. Until then, you can all collectively hope along with me that I don't have any past indiscretions that will prevent them from giving me a Visa. Does stealing a road sign count? I did that once...