The lovely Laura paid me a visit last weekend en route from Seoul to Chicago and it couldn’t have made me happier. Laura and I were of course bosom buddies, roommates, and coconspirators in Bordeaux for two years and she’s basically the sister I never knew I wanted. Seeing her was totally amazing and surreal. We’ve never managed to hang out in the United States and yet we’ve been to all of these ridiculous foreign places together and shared so many spectacular experiences. Like this boat trip from Stockholm to Helsinki (with Randall who took the picture).
Laura sat in on my upper-intermediate class on Monday night and got to meet some of my favorite students. They were a little self-conscious, I think, and were therefore quieter than usual, but I was glad she sat in because she got a taste of non-tourism oriented Turkish people in their natural habitat. And now that I’m not a tourist in İstanbul, these students are pretty much most of my life these days. (For the record, I also accompanied Laura to the Blue Mosque, the Spice Bazaar, Chora Church, and took her to Hotel Turkoman for the view. The lovely staff there gave us Turkish tea and their delicious breakfast cake because they’re the nicest people ever.) I told her a few times that I missed being a visitor here and I also joked that I might just book a seat on her flight back to Chicago. Obviously, as I’m writing this wrapped up on blankets in bed on ol’ Yolbaşı Sok. (my street), it remained merely a joke, but I did mean what I said about missing being a tourist here. For reasons that baffle me, Turkish people love tourists. They go beyond the call of duty every day to make perfect strangers more comfortable. They accommodate even the rudest jerkfaces - and most bizarrely - they seem happy to do it. They want foreigners to enjoy the city and learn about Turkish culture. And this is a guess, but I think it’s because they not so secretly think Turkey is the best country out there. When I ask students where they would go if I were to give them a free plane ticket anywhere, a surprising amount get this glazed over expression only to then say “Turkey.” Really? Really. So fucking weird. So many of them even extend their lack of curiosity to food. One of my favorite questions to ask is whether they’ve tried Indian food. Lots of them make “eww” and “ick” sounds of disgust, like it’s poison or comprised solely of rotten eggs and spoiled vegetables. Then I say “how many of you have tried it?” At the most, one person out of TEN raises their hand. Turkish food is awesome - no mistaking that - but come the fuck on, people! An entire subcontinent can’t be wrong about everything.
Anyway. I digress. I’m sick. I can’t help it. Turkish people claim to love foreigners and most Turkish dudes don’t bat an eyelash when they tell me that one of their life goals is to hook up with a hot Russian girl. Why Russian? you might ask. I’ve heard at least ten men tell me this about themselves and I still can’t help but ask, as well. “Because most of them have blond hair and blue eyes. And we don’t.” Plain and simple. In Turkey, Russians are exotic. Ha. Love it. I saw this phenomenon in action just yesterday when I was sitting at the Kabataş tram stop with Tarık. A Turkish girl with bleached ( / fried) long hair walked by and even though I found her relatively heinous, I watched Tarık, almost reflexively, check her out. He actually did a double take. And when I pointed it out, he laughed and said “I know. I couldn’t help it.”
Interestingly, Turkish women just as readily admit that they think Italian men are the sexiest. (With the exception of a girl who told me she really digs French black dudes. Haha.) Turkish people want to talk to foreigners and ask them where they’re from and how they’re enjoying their time here in İstanbul. Now that I live here and see the same people every day, I still receive the same kindnesses, generosity, and questions (how unFrench), but I also see the ugly bits. The parts of Turkish culture that really rub me the wrong way. And let me tell you - there are lots of ‘em. I actually had to remind myself out loud in class last night that our cultures are different and I am a guest in this country and need to be gracious.
I try to keep my trap shut when we’re talking about more sensitive issues (which include but are not limited to religion, politics, gender roles, relationships, love, family etc) but sometimes it’s... challenging. Last night we were talking about different jobs, and “housewife” was listed in our book as one, so I asked my class if most of their mothers were housewives, already knowing the answer. (There are ten in the class and only one of them is married. Two of them are girls in their early 20s.) They all said yes. Then I turned to the girls, Necla and Sinem, and asked if they wanted to be housewives once they got married. Sinem said probably not, but Necla said “yes!” like I’d asked her if she wanted a second helping of pudding pie. I turned to the guys (and excluding the one who’s married to - get this - a housewife) and asked them if they would want their potential wives to stay at home with the kids. They’re all under 35 and with the exception of Orhan (a gorgeous but openly sleazy guy with AT LEAST one girlfriend), single. Two of them said immediately that their wives would make that choice. Another one, who may or may not be attempting (poorly) to stalk me, said “of course she’ll stay at home.” I know from our previous conversations that this guy comes from a very large, very traditional, very religious Kurdish family so it wasn’t a shock. His earring and faux-hawk can’t cover up the fact that his first name means “color of God.” (Also, he totally friended me on FB and all of the women in his pictures are covered.) I said “Of course??? Why of course?” Bad move, Anya. Way to blow your cover of neutral apathy. He looked at me like I were crazy, which I’m sure for him, I am. And then I repeated my mantra. Graciousness, tolerance, understanding. I smiled and said “we’re from different cultures. That’s all.” Coşkun, my incredibly kind married student, asked me about housewives in the U.S. I told him that they certainly exist but a lot of women want to work and would find it extremely insulting if they were told by their husbands or families they had to stay home with the kids. I told them that I would never want to be a housewife - that I (stupid, stupid Anya) don’t need a man and don’t want to depend on one. That was a little too much for them and Color of God (I can’t type his name because if he ever googles himself he WILL find this blog) said “you don’t need a man? Why not??”
That’s me, folks. BLOWING MINDS. Every day.
Now that most of the staring has stopped and they know I have big boobs AND a personality, our relationship has improved tremendously. And I can say with confidence that they’re not bad guys. They’re just Turkish. And their code of conduct and ethics... is different. I have never seen the woman who lives with her husband and, by the sounds of it, two small children above my apartment. And yet every day I hear her banging the carpets against the balcony, vacuuming, shooshing the baby, and yelling at her husband for what I can only imagine is either money or philandering-related. That isn’t going to be me. Ever.
Other quick and funny tidbits I’ve learned :
-Though a ton of my students are various kinds of engineers and have very advanced degrees in science and math, 85% of them don’t believe in evolution and have laughed in my face when I’ve asked about it. “We don’t come from monkeys,” they say.
-100% of my students have told me that living with a boyfriend or girlfriend before marriage is impossible. Most of them think it’s a good idea, but their parents “won’t let them.” And because they still live with their parents (even at 30), this is a problem.
-Many Turkish people don’t quite understand the difference between Christmas and New Years.
-Drip coffee is expensive here because no one drinks it. They all drink Turkish tea with no milk or lemon. (And they think the idea of putting milk in tea is vile.)
-I live in the most boring part of the city and should move asap.
all the other stuff is going to take a while. This Saturday afternoon marks the beginning of a bayram holiday here. (Religious festival.) This one of the “Holiday of Cutting” (as my students translated it for me) where they... sacrifice sheep and cows. To commemorate the sacrifice Abraham was willing to make of his son for God. From what I’ve pieced together, families buy a sheep (only 400 TL = $200) or cow (more money) and take the animal to a special butcher who slits the animal’s throat (which you are supposed to watch) and then cuts it up for your meaty consumption. I guess a lot of the meat goes to poorer people and there’s a sharing/donation aspect, too. I asked if there were a special bayram “meal” to go along with the holiday, and they all said “meat. And baklava.” Okay! Anyway. I get Saturday afternoon, and all day Sunday, Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday off amid the carnage. I hope to use this time to get a few things done.
Like the fucking internet. In my apartment. That’s priority number one. Number two is a little more vague - I want to hang out in the city. I want to walk around and take pictures and eat some good food. My upper-intermediate class asked me if we could hang out during the holiday (it was sooo adorable how shy they were asking) and I gave them my phone number on the condition I wouldn’t see it in any bathroom stalls some day. So maybe I’ll hang out with them at some point. Two men bankers from one of my TOEFL classes also asked me if they could take me out. Which I’m not going to turn down. Theoretically Tarık and I are going to take a ferry to the Asian side and hang out in Üsküdar which he promises is cool. He also promises we’re going to finally go to the Biennale together in the next few days. I’m not holding my breath and I’m not texting him. (Rest assured, friends. I have learned from my many mistakes.)
Here are some long-overdue photograms:
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