The official goodbyes started last Tuesday with my new TOEFL class. We’d only spent about three weeks together, but they seemed genuinely upset to see me go - especially one of the sixteen year old twins, Ayça. Maybe she saw herself in me. I certainly saw myself in her, with her notebook covered in “RAMMSTEIN” and angry German lyrics (I’m assuming.) She told me she collects knives. Haha. She reminds me of just how awesome some teenagers are. They’re emotional, cagey, and self-conscious, but they can also be so full of light and bravery. I miss my French kids so much. Next was my pre-intermediate class on Thursday - the class I had dinner with a few days before, and the class that’s been most difficult from the get go. They told me they were totally not up for doing any book-work, so we spent our last six hours talking together. About religion, and reincarnation, and love, and politics. About families. My married student Coşkun asked me if I believed in God and I imagine I looked like a deer in headlights. I turned from student to student, wondering how honest I should be. They looked back expectantly. These people have put up with my shit for two months and I like to think we have come to an understanding. I certainly consider most of them (if not all) friends now. So I told them the truth. I am a staunch atheist and I don’t know what happens after we die. I don’t believe in Heaven or Hell, and I certainly don’t believe in the Devil. I believe in human choices and living our lives as well as we can. I also told them that my family was Jewish, and much to my surprise, my classroom didn’t blow up. They seemed a little surprised, but not horrified. When class was over they tried to shake my hand and do the Turkish version of les bisous, but I very firmly stated that I was Amurikcan and in Amurika, damnit, we HUG. (And I’m not going to lie - I really wanted to hug sexy Orhan.) It was super sad. I had to fight back the tears.
Fortunately, I didn’t have too much time to dwell on the feelings of wretchedness because I had to get myself home for my own going-away party. As most of you know, I’m not much of a party person. I like hosting parties because it means I have an excuse to cook a lot and listen to other people talk, but being the center of attention is never a desire of mine. So when Victoria’s friends (who speak Turkish and English perfectly and are super friendly) bailed out and all of our guests were directly connected to me, I knew I was in for an awkward night. My pre-intermediate student Aydın (see last post) drove me and Victoria home and we found my bankers Ömer and Duran already there on our porch, ringing our bird-chirp doorbell. When I had invited them a few hours before, Ömer had told me he wanted to come but his girlfriend “had doubts,” and wouldn’t let him come without her - so could she come as well? Would that be a problem? I was walking across a bridge on the way to buy some vodka when I got the text, and I started laughing out loud. I’ve always heard that Turkish girls (and guys) are insanely jealous, but come the fuck on, people. Turns out that Zuhal, the girlfriend, is really lovely. I think. Her English isn’t great so we mostly spoke to her through Ömer who might’ve filtered a bit of her speech. She told me after offering help in the kitchen that our house was very “sweet” and very “un-Turkish.” I can’t decide if this is a back-handed compliment or a thinly veiled insult. Whatever the case may be, it’s certainly true. Our freezer full of booze is a good piece of evidence. Which brings me to funny point #2: Four Turks were sitting in my living room. Four of them opted for coke and juice when we offered them a wide variety of beverages. Meanwhile, to stave off the anxiety, I was taking mildly diluted shots of vodka every time I went into the kitchen. On an empty stomach. Fun, non? I must’ve looked as nervous as I felt, because Ömer told me to sit down and relax (even though I was sitting at the time.) It took a little while, and the presence of my friend Chip who arrived a few minutes late, but it turned out to be a very successful night. I think everyone enjoyed the very interesting conversation. Duran did a traditional dance from Ankara - which mostly consisted of him snapping his fingers. Chip charmed the pants off of everyone with his talk of Rumi and distance and spirit. Ido pulled out his extensive Turkish slang. I giggled a lot and probably punched everyone in the shoulder at least once as I am wont to do. Aydın, whose English is in its infancy compared to the bankers’, tried his damnedest to keep up and really impressed me. It was a wonderful night. Full of new friendship, laughter, and cultural relativity. Full of boundary breaking, winks, and three boxes of baklava. Chip left at 1.30, the bankers + girlfriend at 2.00, and Aydın left at 4.00.
We spent the intervening two hours talking - just the two of us - in my room. Victoria and Ido were passed out on the couch snoring, so despite the fact that I could see discomfort written all over his face, I made Aydın sit on my bed. (I honestly have no chairs. Scout’s promise.) It was almost like meeting him for the first time. He told me stories of his travels around the Mediterranean on his motorcycle, his childhood, his life outside of his parents’ house for the last twelve years. Islam. There was a lot of dictionary usage, sure, but it just didn’t matter. Most refreshingly, Aydın doesn’t seem to have a sleazy bone in his body. I never got the sense that this was all some elaborate scheme to get me to have sex with him. He didn’t touch me (except the one time I picked up his hand and put it on my shoulder to demonstrate how stupid I think the Turkish “no touching” policy is) or attempt to. He was respectful, polite, but engaged. It was the perfect end to a trying day. Just me and him, talking. Getting over the language boundaries. Understanding one another. Finally. He asked me if he could make me dinner Saturday night and then went home to catch a paltry three hours of sleep before work the next day. I enthusiastically accepted.
to be continued...
but here are two pictures just for fun!
Ömer, Zuhal, Chip, Anya Teacher, Duran, Ido, Aydın
Ömer, Zuhal, Chip, Anya Teacher, Victoria, Ido, Aydın
p.s that's totally our living room. We call our apartment the Moulin Rouge.
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