So I left all the field trip arrangements to the students, and for once, happily followed the more capable in our journey to food. I didn't know it at the time, but aforementioned Esra had the whole thing planned. So much so that when the rest of us met her and her sister at the café they chose, the girls unloaded massive boxes of börek, dishes of cheese, tomatoes, cucumbers, and a bag stuffed with simit. I'm not sure that bringing food to a café is technically allowed, but I pity the fool who'd try to argue the point with Esra and her sister Kübra. These girls don't mess around. Again, to be frank, hanging out with the both of them was an experience I won't soon forget. I've obviously known from day one that Esra is pretty conservative, what with the headscarf, trench coat, and long skirts. She surprises me often, though, especially when her face lights up and she tells me how much she adores Korean TV shows and how she'd love to move to Seoul and find herself a nice Korean boy. (!!!) I think I remember choking on my tea when she told me that one. She also surprises me in how friendly, engaging, and curious she is about my life. Perhaps incorrectly, I assumed she'd disapprove of my pretty blatantly non-Muslim lifestyle. If she does disapprove (and of course she does,) she keeps her feelings and judgments under tighter wraps than anyone else I've met here. She seemed very eager to introduce me to her sister. Now, yet another downside to wearing a scarf and trench coat is that it makes you very difficult to identify in a crowd. Especially if you're turned away from the person trying to find you. That's just a logistical fact. So when I scanned the chairs for a woman who looked like she could be Esra's sister, I saw no one who fit the bill. This sounds awful, but I should've had the insight to look for a scarf and coat instead. They, uh..., run in the family.
I'm an asshole. I know it.
Kübra is just as covered as Esra, and in fact goes a step farther by not wearing any of the makeup her sister dons. Having said that, she is also THE friendliest person I may have ever met. Ever. Within a minute of shaking my hand, she was hugging me and telling me how happy she was to finally have someone with whom she could practice her English, which she perfected in Copenhagen where she was studying psychology because she's a psychologist. (Run on sentence intentional to emphasize her speed and enthusiasm.) She wanted to know all about me, and as quickly as possible. Pretty soon she was whipping out her cell phone to show me pictures of the Turkish Olympics (???) and asking me about any possible boyfriends.
Here's a picture of the gang. Esra is closest to the camera, and Kübra is in the back.
After we all finished eating, the sisters guided the rest of us to this totally insane, amazing chocolate shop known for its Turkish coffee. When they first mentioned Turkish coffee was in our immediate future, I got super excited and asked if anyone else was interested in Fal, the Turkish coffee-ground fortunetelling my friend Necla always does for me. They laughed at me, and then Esra said "NO FAL!" loudly and shook her finger at me with a smile. I said "why??" and Kübra enlightened me: Fal is technically forbidden in Islam because it falls under the major no-no of "witchcraft, magic, divination, and other broohaha." (These are very technical terms.) Which explains why Necla's mom had to close the kitchen door when she did it for us, too. Of course immediately after forbidding it, Kübra asked if I partook in it often, and when I told her that I did, she asked me if I knew anyone really good at it. The forbidden fruit is delicious and fun.
The chocolate shop: (with cameos from Ihsan, the surly looking boy, and Kübra)
some of the wares:
The owner of the shop made us absurdly intense mochas with melted dark chocolate and Turkish coffee. Then he heaped on the full-fat whipped cream he'd just made, and drizzled the whole thing in chocolate sauce.
Good thing I don't have weird digestive issues with whipped cream. (I totally do.)
Kübra insisted on buying all of us raspberry truffles and somehow convinced the owner to give us each a 1.5 lira discount. And then it was time to part ways. Esra decided she was going to drive me to the metrobus stop so I wouldn't have to take the bus, and that she wouldn't take no for an answer. Driving the twenty minutes up, down, and around the Asian side of Istanbul was an adventure in itself but made me realize that despite the obvious differences, these girls aren't that different from me and my American ladyfriends. They flip through the radio stations just as impatiently. They get crazy road rage and yell at the other drivers. We even like some of the same music (Gotan Project, of all things!) and watch some of the same TV shows (Big Bang!). Unfortunately we didn't have time to really talk, and I'm not sure how it would've gone had we done so. But for a few hours, I felt my prejudice and anger and frustration abate. We're all just, girls, I guess. From very different places. Before I hopped down the stairs at the bus stop to disappear back to Europe, Esra and Kübra made me promise I'd get in touch so we could have a picnic and they could take me to a mosque I really wanted to visit. I'm hoping our schedules can collide to make that happen...
And.... that brings me to my last "girl" incident worth nothing. Something funny and bizarre. I taught one of my last classes on Tuesday evening - a Level 1 section - full of really spirited girls in their early 20s. During one the breaks, two of my favorites came up to me and said, "Anya, we have a question." They looked nervous. Hmmm... I told them to go ahead and ask. "Anya, how is your weight?"
Uhh... wtf. Now, these girls are complete beginners, so I figured they either didn't know what they were asking, or were mispronouncing a different word. So I told them to repeat, and when they did, one of them wrote the word "weight" on the board. I told them I wasn't understanding. That was kind of a lie, though. I was pretty sure I knew what was coming, and I was pretty sure I wouldn't like it. What I didn't and couldn't have anticipated was a drawing one of them made - of me. A "before and after," if you will. Yes. That's right. I should've taken a picture. Apparently, these girls are worried that I've gotten significantly smaller since they met me a month ago. When I laughed and told them they were dreaming it, they wouldn't believe me. It took me a minute to soak it all in - witnessing and being subject to an intervention - because they think I've lost too much weight. Flattering, weird, and inaccurate all at once. Amazing. Thanks for the concern, girls!
Ok. Off to Cappadocia tomorrow! Hooray!
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