On being understood.

Istanbul is, like Boston, a city in which people seldom pronounce the "r"s at the ends of their words. Being only a beginning student of Turkish, it has taken time and many instances of sounding like an idiot to recognize verb conjugations where I thought there were nouns, to begin discovering the accents and linguistic nuances of Istanbul. Most of the time, I feel confused and the understanding is always delayed (like a badly dubbed movie), if it comes along at all. In every interaction I have moments in which I just want to, like the two-year-old grunters at our preschool, point towards something and make whiny noises. I think that my Turkish is improving, though - the other day I was surprised to find myself infinately more confident and capable in talking with a friend who I hadn't seen for the past three weeks (although I can't belive I have been here long enough to not have seen a friend for three weeks!). He speaks perfect English but, out of what I have identified as anti-imperialist resistance, only will speak to me in Turkish. Which I will most likely be thanking him for later. Our conversation moved with ease, from work to home to films to military requirements to when I need to pay my rent to needing a vacation... It was so refreshing and rejuvinating to feel that I could both understand and be fluidly understood. Moments like that have been few and far-between since I came to Turkey. I'll have to pay him back with English practice someday. He also wants me to teach him Spanish, though, which I have been trying to explain was once in itself an imperial language. But maybe I will do a better job of explaining in another three weeks...