Ne Mutlu Türküm Diyene!

I offer either condolences or congratulations, Dear Reader, on the length of the following post that you are about to tackle. Please accept whichever you require.

On Saturday, my anne took me and my little sister to a really nice art opening. It was held in the upper floors of a really nice rug-dealership, the owner of which had made his fortune selling very expensive, very beautiful hand-made carpets. They prices of the good ones ranged from over $1000 for the smallest, 3x5 ft. ones to one huge, 30x25 ft. one that was going for $35,000! It takes many weeks and many people to make such large intricate rugs, I guess. Anyways, this guy and his sons had taken an interest in the arts and open a very beautiful modern gallery above their shop. The artist in question was an old Turkish man, over 80, who had spent his life studying and showing all over the world and had many beautiful paintings to display. He worked mostly in oil, I believe, and his subjects were basically women, women with violins, women with other instruments, and women passionately embracing men. All of these were done in a very beautiful modern, skewed style, and his use of color was wonderful. There was a live flautist and a violinist playing music, and there were appetizers of walnuts, grapes and yellow-cheese, and crackers, as well as plates of fruit juice and wine being brought around. It was a really beautiful show, and straight afterwards, anne was so kind as to take me over to the mall. There, in my inspiration, I got about ten different colors of nice gouache paint, a few nice pads of sketch and watercolor paper, some brushes, and a pallet! I've been have a great time supplementing my drawing habit with a little color, and, like I said, it's nice having more to do with my afternoons.

Today, I got up early. Instead of going to school, I accompanied my anne to a Rotary Club (but mainly just the wives went) trip out to Elmadağ (EL-mah-dah), which is a small village just outside of Ankara-proper. It took about forty minutes to get there. We had to wind through the most beautiful hills and mountains. It was rainy today, so all of the colors took on a muted, but somehow intensified hue, everything glistening in grays and foggy blue-greens and browns. The road we traveled to get down to the village was recently paved, but without a guard-rail or stripes. It looks like someone has slicked a thin trail of tar over a raised ridge in the valley of a huge, undulating sea of gulfs and gullies of rocks and smoothed down cliffs, all scattered with scrub brush and twisted olive trees. Up close, the soil and plants are sandy-brown and green, but as you look into the distance, the bluffs fade off in layered tiers of colors, the farthest peaks blending into the misty clouds in a wash of soft blue-gray. And way out here, the view is not sullied by the endless prick of balconied cement apartments. Instead, there are only tiny stucco houses, roofed in red brick tiles and tucked into the alcoves of the slopes or clinging to their sides. Even these were few, were far between. Instead the windows of our minibus were filled full with the rolling, rolling hillocks and valleys, rises and dips of the brilliant, saturated, Anatolian plateau. This ride out into maze of topography in which Ankara is nestled is the second time in my exchange where I have felt this much love and awe of the land in my new and beautiful Türkiye.

These pictures of the land around Ankara are close to what it looked like, but today, it was more colorful and even more grand.

http://goodandlost.org/wp-content/uploads/2010/02/Canyon-to-Vardzia-2.jpg

http://peacelikeariverblog.com/images/2010/274843.bmp

The reason we went out to this school is to bring them supplies. Elmadağ, like most villages in Turkey, is very poor and very rural. It was a complete change from the huge, modern city which I have become accustomed to. It was comprised of the same hand-built, stucco and brick houses planted all over the hillsides. There were chickens and old women and children wandering everywhere in the school yard. The school itself was a three-story affair with a fence and gate around it, and it was clearly the center of the town. The old women who were helping run the school were both wearing flower-patterned şalvar (SHAL-var), traditional Turkish peasant pants. I asked Binnur about them last week when I saw a man at a taxi station wearing a black pair. She told me that they are very traditional in certain regions of Turkey, especially in the villages, as they are very practical. The big, loose billows of material mean you can climb up steep places and move around very easily. I am going to try and get a pair, as they are also very comfortable, and, incidentally, rather vogue these days, as a similar look has now been popularized as "harem pants." The link below shows younger girls in a Turkish village wearing şalvarlar (the -lar suffix makes it plural!):

http://www.turkishjournal.com/images/turkish_village_soccer_salvar.jpg

This picture shows women similar to the sort you see all over Turkey:

http://www.danheller.com/images/Europe/Turkey/Kalkan/turkish-women-1.jpg. They are all very sweet and withered and maternal, all of them wear bulky sweaters and big socks and headscarfs, and all of them are five feet tall or less. Today, actually, when we got back to Ankara, I saw a woman on the street who could not have been over three feet tall, if that. It was amazing. There was a similar woman in Elmadağ. I think the weathered look had something to do with generational differences. Women, especially ones living in villages like many, many Turks still do, had to work very hard to grow their own food, make clothes, take care of the family, etc. So much physical labor over a lifetime! These women all really remind me of my step-grandma Betty, actually. She died when she was 100 and was a doctor and a farmer and loved the outdoors, and her hands and face clothes were just the same way when I knew her. It's interesting what's the same to me around here, what makes me think of people I miss.

Anyways, it was a very poor area, so we were bringing them new sturdy table cloths and plastic glasses and shoes and cardigans and salt and pepper shakers and water bottles and lot of other things. We had brought along a whole separate flat-bed truck to carry all of the boxes, and the kids at the school helped us unload them. The school itself, especially the certain way the kitchen smelled and the houses looked, reminded me a lot of the Dominican Republic when I went to build houses there with my church two summers ago. Both were vibrant and thinly-furnished and surrounded by refuse and children and tiled-roofs. We went into one of the classes, kindergarten, I think, and took lots of pictures and went around to each of the cute little kids and fitted them out with new shoes and passed out the cardigans. In the teachers' lounge, which was really just a very sparse "kitchen" and a room with a table and chairs and a few old couches, we were served cookies and tea and cheese crescents. The people were very welcoming and nice and very receptive and happy to have the new things.

After this, we headed home. On the way, we stopped at a road-side restaurant where we apparently had reservations, as everything was already laid out. There was delicious summer salad, fresh pide bread, kaymak and honey, and fresh white cheese. They served beef-sprinkled herb pide and also big iron, shallow, wok-like pans of nice sauteed beef strips, some of which I tried. There was also fresh yogurt, of course. For dessert, we all had cones of ice cream, lemon with vanilla. Here the ice cream is thicker and creamier and sort of sticky, and instead of round scoops they kind of just wipe flat slabs of it on top of the cone or cup. The lemon and vanilla were delicious together. OH, the strangest thing about the restaurant was its very traditional toilets. I went with both of my annes (Fatoş and Aylin were both on the trip. So nice to see my first anne again!) to the bathroom next door. It was normal and modern and had the normal white porcelain sinks and tiles and everything else. But I went and opened the stall. This is what I saw: http://lh6.ggpht.com/_s3raaZ8KWNg/RldSrYTlMDI/AAAAAAAAA0I/jGEzdPFrKI0/DSC01318.JPG

Inside, instead of the normal raised bowl, flusher, seat, etc., there was a hole in the ground, covered by a treaded porcelain cover. There was no way to flush, that I could find, and I didn't see toilet paper either. There was a spigot and a pitcher available, but I did not venture to utilize either. It was crazy. When I first saw them, I said with not a little surprise "BU NE?!," meaning, rightly, "WHAT'S THIS?!" and both of my mothers collapsed into laughter at my dismay. Apparently, this is a very normal toilet in all but the largest, newest cities. They used to build apartments that had both the squatting kind and the sitting kind, to fit your preference. Amazing! According to Aylin, and corroborated by Wikipedia, these squatting toilets are actually healthier and more sanitary. Something about body position and what part of you on which type is touching where on the apparatus. Well regardless, it worked just fine for me.

We finally got back to town and anne (Aylin) and I went over to Korhan's office where we had left her car (which is, by the way, a very yellow, very sporty, '90s Peugot convertible, one of only two of its kind in Ankara). We visited for a while and then anne took the car home and left me at Korhan's office, as we were both to go out to the weekly Rotary dinner later in the evening. Oh, speaking of which, today marks my SEVENTH week in Turkey! My goodness, how time is flying.

Anyways, it was only about 2:30 or 3 p.m. and the dinner wasn't until 7:30, so i had time to kill. I read some of the really nice coffee table books about Ankara that he had. I napped for a while, and had a very, very vivid dream in which my mother (Peggy), and later my grandma (her mom, Betty), came to visit me in Turkey. It was so real that in the dream, I thought I had been woken up from my office nap already and found my mom and gram were sitting by me, chatting. I dreamt I took them all over the city, showed them where I live, where I go to school, Elmadağ, and everywhere. It was sort of awful when I actually woke up and realized how far away they still were.

After, I went around and saw more of the office, which takes up almost the whole top floor of the building (and a few floors below, which I didn't explore). I got to meet Korhan's staff, also. They were all really nice, and none of them really spoke English, so I had a good time making small-talk about my life and theirs while practicing my Turkish. I am really getting to be pretty capable of conversation, I am pleased to report. Also, Turkish doesn't sound nearly so foreign any more; even when I don't understand what's being said, I recognize common words, can tell verbs apart from nouns and adjectives, and can almost always get a basic grasp of the subject. This is coming at the expense of my already very meager Spanish. While I was in the Dominican Republic, as I mentioned, my Spanish really improved and I was getting a basic hold on the language. Now, any time I try and think of any word in other any language (even my English is going downhill!), I immediately come up with its Turkish. This is really a good thing, but it's worrisome if I plan on ever trying for a third real language.

After hanging around the office, I asked Korhan if I could go for a walk outside. He said sure, so I put on my jacket and grabbed my purse. It wasn't raining just then and the weather was nice and it was already evening. The city was breezy and loud and bustling, and it felt like I was striding around New York on an October night, instead of Ankara. I stopped at the bank (thanks, Mom!), as I've been out of cash recently. After, I just picked a direction and walked down the street. I bought some freshly roasted chestnuts for 5TL from a man selling them on the sidewalk by the large intersection. They were small and delicious, and I ate them while I walked. I stopped into a little cosmetic/toiletries shop and bought some light-tan nail polish for 1.50TL. I curbed my spending there and had a really nice stroll down the big, crazy streets. I am getting really good at crossing the traffic. I stopped into a pretty little park and called my Japanese friend, Nozomi, another exchange student living in Ankara. We decided to go out to dinner and hangout on Saturday. It should be very fun, as she is just the sweetest.

I got back to the office with time to spare and hung out outside talking to one of the drivers in Turkish for a little bit. He was the one who took me to get my residency permit, so we're old pals. After, I went up and waited around some more for Korhan to get ready. We went together to the dinner at about eight, and it was good as usual but was smaller and just served to us, without the buffet. They had a slide show going of the pictures from the trip out to the school that day! Quick turnaround, it seems. They were also showing pictures that the club had taken out to a vineyard at some point this year.

In other, very exciting news, I'm going to be learning how to play the kanun!!!!!!! Pronounced KAH-noon, it is like a big, flat harp from your lap. It is a Turkish instrument, is very beautiful and is very, very difficult. But as I'm not distracted by sports, a job, or a social life, I have plenty of time to learn! No, but really, I'm extremely excited. I've been bugging Korhan to talk to Nozomi's host dad for weeks, as he is a very renowned and skilled kanun player. So this Thursay, along with Nozomi and maybe Emily, the other Rotary exchange girl in Ankara, I'm starting lessons!! This is a really good video of what it looks and sounds like, taken in Istanbul:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EFY30X4C0Uw

I almost forgot, I'm going to Istanbul next weekend!

I'll talk about my upcoming trip later--it's really late!

Lots of love,

Natalie

P.S. The title of this post is a very famous quotation from a speech by Atatürk, and it means roughly,"Happy is the Man Who Can Call Himself A Turk!" Incidentally, it was stenciled in gold letters in the entryway of the school in Elmadağ...