My Trip to London, Through Pictures

This is Ed (picture courtesy of Ed's Facebook), the person who I contacted via couchsurfing (gotta love Couchsurfing!).
Once I got to the London Bridge train stop, I realized that my Turkcell coverage on my 30 Lira cell phone (aka cheap, used cell phone) only works in Turkey! That said, I tried calling Ed on a pay phone (they still exist in the UK, at least!), but the phone was always busy. Thus, I left a message saying where I was, and found myself a white chocolate chip cookie, to soothe my stomach as I waited to call him again. So there I was: disgruntled, excited, hungrily eating a gooey cookie while sitting on the ground of the train station. That's how Ed first saw me. He walked by, fumbling with his cell phone, and surreptitiously looking at me. I tried to give him a look that said, "Leave me alone to eat my cookie" (clearly, I have been in Istanbul for too long) until I realized that this might be Ed.
It was, and I was so embarrassed about being a white-chocolately, glaring mess, but we hit it off, as we are both interested in linguistics. He graciously took me on a walk around the Tower of London, St. Paul's Cathedral, and London Bridge, then we went to his apartment, where I soon fell asleep on his EXTREMELY comfy couch. That was the first time I couchsurfed by myself, and I gained a friend out of it: what more can you ask for?


The next day, I headed to the Victoria stop on the underground. I got excited upon seeing my first, genuine (the one in Rowe, MA doesn't count) British telephone booth, so I took a picture. Sadly, these days, with mankind's dependency on cell phones, they are not used so much to make phone calls. Rather, drunk sobs and bored teenagers use them as a water closet, and then people cover the inside with seedy pornographic advertisements, none of which I could have called art.


That day, the day of the premier of Michael Jackson's 'This is It,' I headed to my first London Hostel: St. Christopher's of Camden. I chose this hostel because I heard Camden town was THE place to be for young folks (did I just negate the emphasis on 'the' by saying something so clearly not 'hip' as 'young folks'? Yes, why yes I did.). Also, the movie theatre that was showing 'This is It' was located in this area. Well, all I can say about Camden town is that any Beloit student of the infamous 'art house' style would have gone nuts in the vintage, retro atmosphere of the markets, shops, etc. It was pretty groovy, as was 'This is It.'
The next day, I headed to the next hostel, chosen for its proximity to THE BRITISH MUSEUM in all of its glory. I have always wanted to go to the museum, and besides the fact that it was pretty packed (understandably so!), it was as glorious as I thought it would be. I reveled in the ancient Roman and Greek artifacts; marveled at the ancient Egyptian artifacts, about which I have little to no knowledge; and I was saddened that the ancient inscriptions section was closed.

The next part of my journey led me to THE BRITISH LIBRARY, where I have wanted to go to since I found out that it housed original Beatles lyrics. This place might have been my favorite place in London. As soon as you walk in, the section devoted to its treasures is right to the left. There, I was tickled to find some original work of Hardy, Austen, Carroll; original copies of 'I want to Hold Your Hand' and 'Help'; original manuscripts of Bach and Mozart; THE MAGNA CARTER, etc. Also, I was happy to see that the exhibition they were holding was all about T.S. Elliot, so I got to see a lot of his letters, including a letter to Lawrence Durrell (a new-found treasured author that I have recently come to love). Eeek! The pull to want to become a registered reader here is strong enough for me to want to move to London.

My next hostel, featured at left, Astor Hyde Park Hostel, was AMAZING. I felt like I was staying at a hotel, despite the fact that there were other people sharing my room. Directly across from said hostel is: Hyde Park! I had a gorgeous fall morning walking around this beautiful park, seeing the Peter Pan statue, the Princess Diana memorial, the Italian fountains, etc.

I eventually went to the famous Oxford Street, but really my main motivation was to see the BBC Broadcasting House. I saw it, and I also was privy to the commercialism that is absolutely rampant on this street of designer stores and boutiques. Bleh. I walked around for a while, though, as there was much people watching to be done!

So, of course, I crossed the River Thames and went to the Globe Theatre! After reluctantly handing over 15 pounds just to see the inside, I was told that they were not allowing pictures to be taken at that time. Anyway, it was just as circular ('Henry V', anyone?) as I would have thought. Really, I didn't feel that the atmosphere held the atmosphere of Shakespeare's times: it just felt a little too restored...I couldn't smell Elizabethan theatre, you know?
I just had to see the famous Christie's of London, so: here it is! I tried peeking into some windows, but all I saw were weirdly-shaped statues that were not at all appealing, to me. Ah well, they can't please everyone. For all I know, those statues were from the backyard of Woody Allen.
Well, I met up with Ed -- such a swell guy -- and we walked around what used to be London's red-light district: Covent Garden. He helped me find the Duchess Theatre, which was very nice of him as it turned out to be a slight ordeal. I had booked a ticket in advance to see 'Endgame,' one of my all-time favorite plays. I walked in only to be directed to the bar, where American Airlines (what? When did I land in an American airport? I am still confused about why they were apparently sponsoring this bar...) was serving drinks. After NOT paying three pounds for a program (thank you, America, for not demanding that money at most theatres), I watched the show, madly scribbling in the dark any crazy epiphanies that came my way; it's one thing to read a play, and it's another to see a play performed, but it's an entirel inspiring experience to read a play, really delving into it (thank you, Steve Wright) and to then see it performed. Wow. During the encore, the actor who played Hamm threw me a kiss (I was sitting in the fourth row!). Afterward, I got a chance to ask him some questions, which is when he congratulated me for GETTING the show, and laughing at all the right moments. I melted a little, I must say.

I could not have asked for a better way to end my all too brief trip to London. Of course, the next morning, the rails weren't working, and then I missed my flight and stayed an extra night without any pounds to my name, but let's just say I ended it on a chess play, and I want to become a British citizen.

Translating some Latin in Ephesus.

Istanbul does not Equal Turkey

I now have traveled outside of Istanbul, and now I want to live elsewhere in Turkey; Istanbul is crazy, and that is sometimes overwhelming...

On Friday, October 9th, Jessica (my friend from college), Chris (from Germany), and I took a 50 minute plane ride to Izmir. We are all members of an internet site, whose URL is: "www.couchsurfing.org." It's a site that allows people on tight budgets to stay for free in houses of people they probably have never met before. People can host (put up people for a night or two), surf (stay on someone's couch, bed, whatever), or meet for coffee/drinks, and there is a verification service that allows for an identity check. Also, people can write negative or positive remarks on your profile after hosting you or surfing your place. You cannot remove any remarks. Overall, this site rocks my, and a lot of other people's, socks.

We found a guy named Onur who was willing to host us that night. We hopped into a taxi, went to Onur's place, and we quickly realized that we had booked couchsurfing gold! Onur turned out to be SUCH an interesting fellow! He is really into couchsurfing, so he had hosted dozens upon dozens before us; his house even has a 'couchsurfing room,' with two mattresses and some extra floor space. He is really into Brazilian culture; he owns a tarantula; he once considered himself metal-head; also, he said, with a shrug, "I am student. I study statistics. Not where my heart is."

That night he took us to a party of couchsurfing enthusiasts (most of whom are avid hosts). Well, people in Izmir know how to throw splendid parties! The table was set with food that traditionally goes hand-in-hand with Raki, which is the big liquor around here. The way one drinks raki is by diluting it with water each sip of the way, and supposedly it is a less tasty version of oozo, but I don't care: I hate it. Bleh, licorice... Anyway, the conversation was great, the food was delicious, and the fermented carrot juice...well, that was an experience, I guess.

The next day, we all leisurely got up and Onur decided he would cook us a traditional Turkish breakfast. That was definitely an indication of just how impressed Onur was with our company. He cooked away, while we both helped and played with his Persian cat - a cat whose hair had been buzzed off completely except for a giant mane encompassing his head, and a tuft of hair at the end of his tail. His scrunched-up face, his saggy skin, and his hair-do made him super entertaining. Breakfast was DELECTABLE: an egg dish of tomatoes (the tomatoes in Turkey are AMAZINGLY FRESH), cheese, and peppers, with a side of olives (of course), cheese for the simit (of course), and tomatoes doused in olive oil and spices. Yummmmm.

Next, Onur led the way into the heart of Izmir. We saw many things, from a presentation about Ataturk's mausoleum in Ankara, to a park near the seaside. Sadly, we did not have a whole heck of a lot of time, as we had arranged to meet with Nora, from Canada, at the hostel we booked in
Selçuk. Thus, we left Onur, after having thanked him profusely, and took the train, which was about an hour and a half ride.

We stayed at the ANZ Guesthouse, which was just wonderful. I highly recommend it if you are looking for a hostel near Ephesus. The atmosphere is colorful and comfortable. The family that owned it had lived in Australia and New Zealand for over twenty years; also, the staff members were all happy, helpful, and honest (alliteration, eh?). I couldn't have asked for a better first hostel experience.

That Sunday we went to Ephesus: a site of ancient ruins that is home to the famous Library of Celsus; the Temple of Artemis is near the site; also, it is home to what is believed to be the largest theatre in ancient history - able to hold about 4,000 people!
WOW. I was finally handed the opportunity to touch, breathe what I have been studying for so long now. It is so much more meaningful to trace Ancient Greek characters with my fingers and to sit on an ancient toilet than it is to study such things...I loved it. So much. So we had a day of it, under a hot, hot sun. Then, we decided to go to Şirince, which is a little wine village in the mountains near Selçuk. We had perfect timing: a wine festival had commenced! We took a small bus up the windy roads; I finally had one of those rides that travel right near the side of a cliff: grand. The village was darling, and we found that the wine there is such a great treat. We went into so many wineries, tasting mostly fruit wines: peach, sour cherry, green apple, black mulberry, strawberry, melon, raspberry...my personal favorites were cherry and peach (I bought two bottles at only 6-12 TYL each!). It was a great night, and a great trip, as we left early that morning. I want to go back, and Onur wants us to come back, too. Everyone returned a little sunburned, carriers of homemade wine, backpacks, and flower wreathes. Love.

A Turkish Cold

I am sick. After playing basketball with a bunch of friends on Wednesday, my Finnish friend, Sean, told us on Thursday that although he wasn't feeling well, he would still come to the European side with us that night. We asked him why he wasn't feeling well, and he told us that he doesn't think he changed out of his sweaty clothes on Wednesday quickly enough. Thus, he guessed that he got a chill, and thus he got a cold. He had some tea at Chris's flat on the European side. There, we discussed all sorts of topics on Chris's terrace (I was drinking wine, not tea).

Chris talked to us about the German identity and what WWII means to the modern German. Sean mentioned that some hipsters in Finland wear the Confederate Flag in the form of patches. Jess and I immediately talked about how that meant that they really, really didn't understand the meaning behind it (and how could they, really?).

We talked about how Germans think that Frank Zappa is on par with The Beatles (I argued completely otherwise); our Dutch friend, Joost, talked about jumping off a cliff into water and breaking his back, and then he proceeded to show us the video on YouTube.

We then headed to Taksim Square, which is the hip, hop, and happening place to go in Istanbul during the evenings (see below). We were swept away by a group doing a pub crawl.

The first bar we went to played CAKE and Michael Jackson, so I could have happily stayed there, but, as with all pub crawls, there was a time limit. By the third pub, I decided to stop drinking and just enjoy the games others were playing (body shots, German drinking games, etc.). The last destination was a club. It was surreal. At this point, everyone was pretty well smashed (I was doing a lot better than some of them, I can tell you that!). The club we went to was projecting, of all things, cartoon network onto the wall!
More people came, the techno beats became increasingly bass-heavy; people were shoving chocolates into other people's mouths, as well as shots, and there were crowd surfers and table-top dancers. Eventually, some of us decided that it was way past our bedtime, so we went home.
The next day, my throat was scratchy....
Then, I became congested, feverish, achy, etc.

I am really spacey now, and though my ears are still plugged, as is my nose, I am feeling lots better after a couple of days of drinking sage tea and sucking on tropical Olips (a Turkish cough drop, which is quite tasty!).
I am actually going to see some tourist attractions this weekend! Stay tuned...

It's the Little Things

I don't understand just how far away 500 kilometers is.

I am not accustomed to cleaning ladies barging into my locked dorm room at any given hour of the morning (is there a schedule? Probably. Do I know it? Nope. Could they tell me? Not until I become adequate at Turkish).

The percentage sign comes before the number in Turkey.

Usually, I go to a restaurant to enjoy a relaxed, un-rushed meal. Yesterday, I went to Kadıköy with a group of friends. We stopped to eat outside, and the waiter proceeded to tell us to eat quickly, as the Ramadan dinner rush was to commence within thirty minutes. That was a first.

Suddenly, I am held accountable for my country's actions (or lack there of).

My OCD concerning water has increased ten-fold here, as I cannot simply fill up a canteen at any random faucet. I am constantly thinking ahead; when will I next get water?

Grocery stores are packed with men and women alike at 11 am on weekdays.

Words have become so much more flexible. Can I say, in the words of my Turkish friend, Misra, that a person is a "cinema-worm" and be understood? Yes. Or, in the words of my German friend, Chris, buildings can seem "negatively inspiring." Words, words, words...oh, communication. What a concept!

Dishes that I order at restaurants are always surprising.

Stray dogs and stray cats are everywhere. Dogs are especially prevelant on Yeditepe's campus -- they are accepted, expected. Also, the Turkish government decided to give all stray dogs rabies shots. You know that they have been given this shot if they have a red tag in an ear. Good stuff.

I have never hated ice cream. I hate Turkish ice cream: dondurma. To me, it tastes like sour milk. Of course, considering that Turkish milk can be left unrefrigerated probably means that the ice cream is just a product of such ridiculousness. Hyer dondurma. Teşekkür ederim, sağol.

Three Shakespeare plays in a semester is considered a workload here. Well, OK...

Wow, public transportation is, in fact, useful! Did you hear that, US?

...it's the little things.

Reading 'Seabscuit' in Istanbul

Yesterday night I went to the movies. We walked in, and my friend, Laura, and I decided to use the 'toilet' (that's just how literal Turkish can be sometimes). Across from the toilets was the one projection room, where a beaten-up sofa faced a little hole in the wall (clearly this acted as a screening room as well).

Toilets in Turkey are either holes in the floor (see above, which is the toilet I found on the ferry to Princes Islands), or regularly-sized toilets whose contents refused to be flushed. Also, toilet paper is a rare commodity.

But I digress. After using the restroom, we headed downstairs to the concession area. There, one of our group had ordered popcorn. The Turkish man popped a bag into the microwave and voila! Popcorn.
So 'Inglourious Bastards' might not have been the best option. I had seen it before, so I knew what was going on, but a lot of the movie is in French and in German, so the subtitles that were in English when I saw it in the US were in Turkish in Turkey...
There was an intermission, which I had never experienced at a movie theatre before, and when the movie ended the credits were not even run -- the movie was simply turned off, and we were led out of the theatre, having to duck under a gate that was half-closed.
It was definitely an interesting movie-going experience.

In other news, I finished Laura Hillenbrand's 'Seabiscuit'! It was just great. Every night, Jessica would make fun of me for reading, of all books to read in Istanbul, an account of this great horse. It reads like a work of fiction, drawing from historical references, as well as pop cultural references. My eyes kept straying to the next page to see what would happen.
I recommend it enthusiastically! Now, I should look into reading something actually related to Istanbul; most likely I will begin reading some works by the great Turkish writer, Orhan Pamuk.

First Week

Plane Rides

My first trip took me from Chicago's O'Hare airport to London's Heathrow. I sat next to Mark, a student from the University of Michigan. A music major, he had landed a semester-long gig playing his saxaphone and his clarinet on a London cruisline (groovy, I know).
I soon learned that flying on British Airways is really a luxury after many domestic flights with such airlines as: United, or Luftansa. First of all, hearing a British accent coming from the cockpit somehow mollified my incessant worrying about taking off; there is always a moment for me, right before the plane steadies, when I can feel gravity's anger -- its force. For some reason, I am convinced that the plane could easily just fall in those first twenty minutes or so.
Also, they give you a package that contains: socks, an eye mask, a toothbrush with toothpaste, and a card to put spare change in for Feed the Children. Everyone gets their own little TV complete with a relatively broad list of movies, shows, and radio stations.
I decided to give Notes on a Scandal a try. It was a winner, showcasing Judy Dench and Cate Blanchett at their best.

On the plane ride from London to Turkey I sat next to Efe, a man who grew up in Istanbul and had just departed from his first trip to the US (all to sample the flavor of Washington D.C). He told me that he was afraid I "will get fat" in Istanbul. He taught me how to haggle and laughed at my Western pronunciations of the areas in Istanbul. He then left me to wait in the Visa line for visitors and after a bit of waiting waived at me from beyond the gate: his brother and his uncle needed to leave.

ISTANBUL

I met Jessica at a Starbucks in the Ataturk airport in Turkey (a prearranged meeting, as we both are familiar with that logo, of course). She had been waiting there for a while, getting hit on by random Turkish men, looking at newspapers that better resembled tabloids in their garishess, and soaking up her new surroundings.
We left the airport to try to tackle the public transportation to our new home: Yeditepe University. We had a while to wait, all the while a Turkish man was chatting us up, asking for our numbers, dropping names of famous people who had visited his country (obviously a reflection on himself), and trying to get us to hang out with him and his friend that night.
He finally had to leave, as did we. We climbed aboard Public Bus number 96K to Kozyatagi. From there, we got a taksi cab (he couldn't close the trunk door because of our luggage, so he just left it open...). That was definitely my first taste of Turkish driving. It's ridiculous. Cars just weave in and out, and honking is expected. I have not yet seen a speed limit sign; I'm not sure if it is enforced. Pedestrians have no rights.
Anyway, we arrived, settled into our dorm room, which is complete with two windows and our own bathroom, and went to sleep.
I awoke to the prayer being played at around five in the morning. I have since gotten used to it, and I no longer wake up unless I want to then.
The next day was a meet and greet session for the Erasmus students and the rest of the international students. I met people from Canada, Holland, Poland, France, Italy, Japan, Finland, the States (though there are only about six of us, luckily), Denmark, Austria, GERMANY (there are SO MANY students from Germany), and the Czech Republic. Whew. The first thing I noticed about this university is that the mentality is completely different than the mentality of many other places. Its administration does not really know the whole story...ever, which means that the international office was only able to offer us basic information about the area. We were then separated into departmental groups, led by Turkish students in the same departments. Another thing: the school is marketed as an English university, but that is simply not the case. Most English spoken here is broken English, and that is when you are lucky! Turkish classes could not come soon enough!

My department, English Literature, is one of the few departments where most of the faculty speaks English and will head their classes in English, so I am set.
I ate Kofte for my first meal here: a delightful dish of roasted peppers, eggplant, BEEF, and tomatos. I found it easy to eat the beef, which, by the way, was the first bit of red meat to pass my lips in about seven years.

Our first exscursion off campus was to go to the mall (yes, the mall. We had very good reasons: Jessica and I both needed voltage converters and to look into getting a cheap phone). We were joined by Paul, a silly, outgoing boy from Canada, and Guillaume, a charming person from France who is here to not only BE HERE, but to also improve his very broken English. Communicating with him is never a dull moment -- such a good sport.
So Paul didn't really know where to get off from one of the many public buses, so he guessed when he thought he saw the mall. This led to us walking in a gutter along the road, climbing up dusty ravines, and sprinting across the crazy Turkish roads to finally find the entrance.

I had meat again that night: in dolma: cabbage leaves stuffed with beef bits, rice, and bits of vegetables. Yum!

After a day of unpacking, resting, and generally getting a little less jetlagged, we went to Kadikoy: an area on the Asian side (Yeditepe, by the way, is on the Asian side of the Bosphorus in Istanbul). We were joined by Sean, who's half-finnish and half-American, Leja and Nick, a couple from Holland, Guillaume, and Chris from Germany. There, I really experienced just how crowded Istanbul is! You have to experience it to understand what it is like, but it is slightly similar to New York, but the air is heavier, the people are more animated; it's noisier, dirtier, and definitely more chaotic.
I loved it. I had my first Turkish beer (Oh, hey! I can order alcohol here!). I had Efes beer, which is very common here. I loved just sitting in an outside patio with my new friends, discussing cultural differences and similarities, laughing at our poor Turkish, laughing at ourselves, at others, and watching the many varieties of people walking by. In Turkey, the same street can host extremely decked out, glamorously dressed women, women covered in traditional religious clothing, clutching beads, modern teenage boys wearing shirts featuring English expressions, cooly standing on street corners, and young children, laughing and skirting around others.

It's crazy and great and refreshing and TOTALLY DIFFERENT.

OK, well, more for later: yarin!