True, it has been quite a long time since I have uploaded any kind of news. (Sorry Nana, Sittoo, and family!!) It has been a busy, complex, and interesting past couple of months. Instead of trying to write about it all chronologically here, which would be impossible, and would require sitting in front of my computer for days on end for any vaguely acceptable result, I’ll start with the present and fill the past in when I have more time (and more reliable internet!).
I arrived in Istanbul from Beirut last Monday the 29th, three days later than expected (to be explained in another more time-consuming post), and two days after the rest of the women in the program. Thus, I plunged right into the orientation, which I must say, is a very tightly packed one. I think they may be trying to burn us out now so that we will sleep next week on the 14-hour ride to Alanya, where we will spend the rest of the semester. Apparently, I missed out on a very strange ice-breaker, though: a group trip to the Turkish Bath, where everyone (all 9 women and our female professor) stripped to the skin, with only a towel to cover the waist, and lay around a giant stone slab that was heated from within. The way the baths generally work (they have been extremely tourist-ized now in the big cities, but are certainly utilized by Turks in smaller places) is that you enter (wearing your towel) a very humid chamber with faucets lining the walls, shower yourself in water, and proceed to lay out on the heated marble (or stone) slab, turning occasionally, loosening your muscles. After sitting in steam for a while, generally you are soaped and exfoliated, then massaged by a complete stranger. Apparently, the group had the distinct pleasure of being cared for by an extremely large gypsy woman whose only English utterance was the command “Sit,” and for whom a slap on the butt meant “turn over.” Anyone who has been to a Turkish bath (M and I were appropriately…..and strangely acclimated in Urgup) knows that it is extremely awkward at first, no matter how comfortable you are with your body and the people you are with, so one can imagine how weird it would be to plunge in with peers and a future professor. The Bath is a wonderful experience once you get past the initial awkwardness, yet, needless to say, I was pretty glad to have missed that one. However, the ladies think that they deserve some kind of Hazel peep-show for retribution.
It has been nice, despite the cramped schedule the professors have arranged, after all of my wandering, to follow someone else’s pre-determined schedule. It’s a refreshing break from the task of creating my own plan. The difficulty, though, besides finding ways of improving in Turkish without having yet taken a real lesson, is in being constantly in the company of others. This sounds sad and strange, but I have gotten used to doing my own thing, traveling alone, and now I have to un-learn aspects of that comfort. It’s odd how adaptable we become to a certain way of living.
I really enjoy being in Istanbul. We have been visiting many parts of the city, and in much greater depth than G, M, and I were able to in our four days here. This is quite important, as Istanbul is a huge city with an official population of 12 million, although more accurate estimates say even 16 million. A private bus makes getting around much easier… I particularly love seeing all the Byzantine churches and the magnificent mosques leftover from the Ottoman Empire (and even those converted, like the impressive Haggia Sofia, from the Byzantine Empire). Our architecture and Crusades professor (who is quite possibly one of the most intelligent people I have met) had been introducing us, in person, to various aspects of religious architecture and aesthetics, in the form of structure, mosaic, color, tile, etc.. We explore, inside and outside, specific historically significant buildings, milling through them, eyes to the ceiling, the floor, the walls, all around us, searching for architectural clues that will give us links to other things we have seen. I specifically like when we find unique aspects – strange combinations of color or tile design, some detail that doesn’t match, a tiny dome in the “wrong” place, an unavoidably awkward aspect of the structure. These tiny touches make the building real.
We have been attending lectures given by various university professors and specialists, for example, we listened to a political skeptic give a pessimistic view of Turkey’s future, an economist showed a rosier picture, learned about public health in the country from a very distinguished researcher, got a history lesson from an anthropology professor, spoke with an influential lawyer and human rights expert and some of his lawyer students, and even received an informative and hands-on talk on the various kinds of rugs, kilims, sumaks, and gigims that the region has to offer from two textile experts who own a shop in the Grand Bazaar.
I’m on the prowl for a cozy pair of slippers, and the Grand Bazaar is most probably the best place for me to look. It’s a giant, covered structure of hundreds of shops where you can find anything from textbooks to hand-painted tiles to tea leaves to cheap designer jeans. As you walk through (and inevitably get lost in) its winding hallways, shopkeepers accost you from all sides, shouting things to catch your attention in whichever language they think you speak. For whatever reason, whenever all 10 of us walk through bazaars together, the salesmen call us “Spice Girls.” “Hello, Spice Girls,” they yell, “this one’s the best, come in here!” Sometimes the men (shops are almost always kept by men) listen in on your immediate conversation, take the last few words of what you say, and adapt it in attempts to attract your patronage. For example, if you respond to something your friend says with, “That’s really great!” inevitably someone will butt in with, “but not as great as what you’ll find in here!” or “Yes, a great time for you to come over here!” This is disorienting at first, but quite hilarious as it progresses. So far their charms have not won me over, as the only things I have purchased are music cds, an Arabic-Turkish dictionary (complete with a comprehensive list of shared words!), and some halva (sesame seed-paste candy.. it’s delicious) on Istiklal Street in the Beyoglu district (across the Golden Horn and far from the bazaar). No nargilehs (hookah), pashminas, carpets, or slippers yet, but I do have four months.. and in the meantime, I figure I might as well learn something about Turkish rap.
I promise, there's more coming! The past week has been so packed, it will take a while to get it down... and we're headed to Ankara tomorrow. I have five drafts waiting to be posted, so it's coming! Love and peace for now... h
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