Bilecik, Turkey. My New Hometown.

Teaching, Teaching, Teaching.

Classes have started and I've been thrust into the world of teaching University. I have an astonishing number of students - upwards of 180 - who are bound to keep me on my toes. Luckily, despite all the rhetoric I've heard of students disliking English, they seem very enthusiastic and engaged. This is good given my emphasis on verbal communicative English. Now if only my Turkish would suddenly kick in, I'd be able to identify important questions and rude comments. As of now, however, I've encountered no problems. It's especially nice to see them outside of class, tossing me a wave from across the street, or issuing an enthusiastic handshake. The place I'm currently staying is in the center of town. I literally cannot be outside for more than 10 minutes before a student waves me town or tries to engage in some conversation. It's nice.

One unexpected reality is that the students are very new to speaking English. This does not necessarily mean, however, that they are unaccustomed to reading and writing English. From what I've gathered, students know grammar quite well. Speaking is simply a realm of language learning they haven't yet entered.

Walking about town and on campus is a hoot. The stares I acquire are enough to make anyone blush, especially a tall, fair-skinned, non-Turkish anomaly of a man. It's fair to say I could walk around Salt Lake City in fish nets, and a huge purple Willy-Wonka hat and inherit the same stares. I'll get used to being the foreigner, and by that time people will be over it. Go figure.

It's nice to have meet the people I work work directly with. They are younger ( in their 20s) and incredibly helpful. I am heavily indebted to their hospitality and resourcefulness. I'm sure I will grow close with them, and establish some meaningful relationships in this beautiful country.

At night, if I'm not lesson planning, I'm outside at a cafe reading and sipping tea. A few nights ago, I sat alone at the cafe nearest my hotel smoking nargile (hookah), drinking chai, and dipping into Orphan Pamluk's "My Name is Red." The call to prayer, what I missed dearly from my time in Cairo, rang out and saturated the streets. It's an indescribable feeling, hearing the call to prayer on such a night. A mix of wonder and peace - a feeling I truly appreciate. Everything seemed to slow down, and I absorbed the moment fully. It was good.

So I'm thinking I may slip downstairs and sit at a cafe for a bit now. I could go for some tea.

Bu-bye for now.

The Mausoleum

Bilecik, Turkey. My New Hometown.

The first part of my blog entry will be formatted similarly to a visa/mastercard advertisement. I feel it's an appropriate and direct portrayal of my first few days in Bilecik.

Cigarettes offered: 10

Cups of tea presented: 27

Compulsory tours of the town: 3

Handshakes: 13

Turkish Hospitality: priceless

Upon entry to Bilecik, I let out a long sigh of relief. My hopes were confirmed when I arrived at the bus station, took a look around, and noticed people, buildings, civilization. You see, I wasn't sure if a town of 45,000 meant dispersed farmland, or, as I've encountered, a small albeit bustling metropolis. For a town with so few people, this place is buzzing. And wonderfully enough, my guide person (a colleague at Bilecik University), showed me to a nice hotel for the next few days until an apartment is found. I have a small balcony that looks over onto a small park where people drink chai until late hours of the night.

One thing I'm wary of is the fact that few (very few) people speak english. My conversations, then, are limited for the time being. I find myself writing down new words frequently, and consulting the Turkish-English dictionary ad nauseam. The turkish word for car is 'araba' for all you inquisitive folks out there.

So despite getting a handle on my digs, I still have no idea what I'm doing tomorrow. I'll be picked up at 8:30 and driven to campus where I have an office with said colleague. I believe tomorrow is more devoted to logistical/administrative things than teaching, which is probably best.

But don't mind that... Turkish hospitality: what a wonderful thing! I've been treated like a King, and to fill you in, guests are traditionally treated as guests from God. I'm pleased to see the tradition lives. I'm apparently very interesting, and I've been inheriting a barrage of bewildered, or cautious, or warm stares from people around town. I feel, in a way, like a pet monkey. I see, I do, and that's how it works. Simple tasks, like saying "thank you" are met with silly smiles and rapid dialogue amongst friends. I'm toying with the idea of telling people I'm Matt Damon, and that I'm taking a year off of acting to teach english at Bilecik University. I'll let you know how that goes.

So now I'm back in my hotel room, absolutely exhausted. It's funny how the unfamiliar functions as an energy drain. It only hits you when you lay down, but it's effect is instant and nearly paralyzing. Goodnight all. Sleep well.

Off to Bilecik

I have to admit, I'm a little uneasy. I've planned my day up until I get off the bus from Ankara to Bilecik, but the vast unknown awaits. I imagine I'll be picked up from the station. That's what I've been told. But then what? I have no idea where I'll be living, what I'll be teaching, who I'll be teaching, whether English is a futile language in such a place, and most importantly, whether I'll find some souls to spend time time. Its daunting, considering all of this, but so be it.

Orientation in Ankara was wonderful. I met a ton of great friends who find themselves in similar situations. We'll support one another well, I know, and provide a couch to sleep on come travel time. Some of the areas of interest we've visited were wonderful. The mausoleum for example (resting place of Turkey's founder Kemal Ataturk) was exquisite and powerful, and the Kocatepe Mosque was breathtaking.

Well it's time to finish packing (again), say a prayer to whatever's out there in the cosmos, and hit the dusty trail. I'm sure there'll be more to say soon. Insha'allah I'll have internet connection enough to help me do that.

Night Off

Evenings for the past week and a half have been active. As a result, I'm fending off an overwhelming feeling of exhaustion. Tonight, I finally decided to take a break and work on lesson plans, write a blog post, play with my new cell phone, and people watch instead off walking around the city of Ankara, frequenting cafes (nargile & chai!), and overwhelming myself at the seeming impossibility of learning the language. I suppose just being surrounded by the unfamiliar is exhausting enough. I rarely know what I'm getting myself into, and every expereince feels like a blind experiment. Am I entering a cafe, or some sleazy tattoo parlor? I typically don't know until either I'm approached with a menu, or a vibrating needle. Everyone is friendly, so either way I'll be taken care of.

Perhaps the most difficult thing to get used to is the constant barrage of staring city dwellers. Make no mistake, I look like an absolute American, which means I look very little like a Turk. My friends and I play celebrity night in and night out, engaging with the onlookers and embarrassing ourselves with our lack of Turkish language. It's fun, but I can feel it getting old. It'll be interesting to experience the gaze of onlookers in Bilecik, many of whom have never seen a strapping, handsome American gentlemen. In fact, many of them have never seen an American period, so I'll be an anomaly of sorts.

In all sincerity, I hope to quietly blend into society, make a few friends, and invest my energies in teaching and learning. I also hope to travel, and my list as of now includes destinations across Turkey's vast geography, and potential visits to Egypt, Lebanon, and elsewhere.

Wish me luck.

Orientation (and other things) in Ankara

So I find myself in Ankara, Turkey with very little sense of how to survive. I rely on the hospitality, warmth, and understanding of the Turks to guide me through my days here in central Anatolia. To be fair, however, the solid language skills of my roommate have helped immensely. It took me a few days to learn how to properly pronounce our hotel, Baskent Ogretmenevi. If you're trying to pronounce it, please stop. It sounds nothing like it's spelled in English.

My time in Turkey will be spend teaching English and introducing US culture to students at Bilecik University in the small city of Bilecik. The orientation has been useful at teaching us Fulbrighters basic pedagogical, cultural, and linguistic elements of Turkish culture. It is exhausting though, and because my jet-lag persisted, I've had a hard time making it through the day without a nap or two. I'm writing this with my eyes half shut right now.

I've had some unusual things happen to me, as seems to be the case with anyone entering a foreign land without knowledge of the language or the culture. The first involved a small elderly man in an elevator, who, without warning, reached out and grabbed my neck. It wasn't an aggressive thrust of the hand. He didn't try to take me down, Bruce Lee style. Instead, he quietly reached out and wistfully groped my throat. If the man wasn't so adorable I would have gone berserk. I was trying to piece together counter-attack maneuvers I remembered from taking karate as a little boy, or from Jason Bourne's collection of ass-whooping tangos, before making eye contact. So maybe, I thought, this was some sort of cultural practice. Do I gently reach out and touch his throat? Where would that leave us? Two men, grasping one anothers throats in perfect peace and harmony, bridging the gap between East and West? Is this all anyone has ever hoped for? Tender throat-grabbing between two placid and understanding gentlemen? It turns out that he was a doctor, and a tad concerned about the possibility of my having an enflamed esophagus. I think I'm OK, and so does he.

More bizarre than that was my experience at the Merkez Sengul Hamami. A hamam is a Turkish bath. I'll leave it at that. I don't know how I was influenced into going to this place. It seemed more of a tongue-in-cheek dare than genuine, innocent curiosity, but maybe I'm only searching for an excuse.

I entered the lobby of the hamam with a couple of friends and saw two men, in towels, sipping chai in chairs around an indoor fountain. I assumed that I was to change into my towel and chill out around the fountain, sipping tea, shootin' the breeze, and never really understanding why I couldn't do all this with my clothes on. I was then commandeered into another room by an eager Turkish man, only this time, the experience as a whole started to make more sense. I encountered a group of naked men (towels covered the essentials), being soaped, lathered, and massaged by other men, equally as naked. Everything seemed OK. There wasn't an overwhelming sense of impropriety, but to be fair, I'm looking at this man-fest through an American lens and discretely counting the exit signs, taking note of the angles they reside, and even seeking out implements to ward off overzealous suitors. Before I knew it though, I was on a hot slab of marble being tossed around like a rag-doll by a 275 lb., fleshy, naked, Turkish masseuse. The gentlemen was skilled though, and I relaxed enough to enjoy it. I was scrubbed handily, and walked out feeling both cleaner and dirtier than I've ever felt before. Would I do it again? You bet. I'm thinking once a month, at least. It's good for the skin.

Today was spent at the Ankara Citadel and touring the beautifully ornate Kocetepe Cammi (mosque). Pictures will come to those who seek. Besides that, evenings have been spend sitting at cafes with friends, smoking nargile and drinking chai. It's a good life.

My nerves about Bilecik are getting a little more pronounced, mainly because I'll be the only grantee there, but I was happy to note that they have an international office and Turkish language lessons aplenty. Besides that, I know nothing. I'll make sure to share when I have deets, however. That's all for now! Keep in touch and I'll keep these coming.

Gorusuruz!