Amanda was my roomie at camp. She's pretty awesome. :)
Tuesday, September 30, 2008
Inbound Orientation Camp
This pretty much sums it up:
Amanda was my roomie at camp. She's pretty awesome. :)
Amanda was my roomie at camp. She's pretty awesome. :)
A night at the ballet!
By some wonderful coincidence and a minor communications mishap, I went to the St. Petersburg Ballet! Accompanying were Anne, Sam, Eddie, and their mothers. The menfolk had begged off on the grounds that ballet is lacking a certain “manliness.” By the end of the evening, I think Sam and Eddie were in agreement. I’m not sure what Sam said when the lights came up at the end of the second act, but abject relief has a way of translating across language barriers.
Well. I thought it was great. No idea what the story was – I can guess, but it wouldn’t be remotely accurate.
Anne and I took a subway to the general area of the amphitheater - it was at an amphitheater! - and I was unfortunately chewing on a piece of simit when Anne took the photo. So I look a bit like a chipmunk.
Anyone remember when Cow Parade was in Hometown? Bueller? Well, Istanbul's doing pretty much the same thing, but with shoes. Apparently there's some sort of international...shoe...festival? in town soon, and Shoe Parade (or whatever they're calling it) is part of the promotion. It's pretty cool.
I apologize in advance for the dubious quality of some of these photos – I was shooting sort of around the shoulders and head of the woman in front of me, with the camera zoomed waaaay in, trying not to move at all. With those parameters, it’s a wonder that any of these turned out. No, really: this was my view through most of the show:
And we’re calling the blurry ones “artistic,” yes? Good.
I'm kind of amused by how the dancers look like posed action figures here. HannahSam or someone could probably tell you why that happened...
One of the perks of being a theater person: you notice things. Like when the lighting guys left a dark patch downstage center, so that the dancers were in the dark for their bows. Oops. Most of them looked a lot like this, but without the benefit of the camera's zoom:
And I know that it doesn't look like much, but believe me when I say that it was noticeable.
It was a good night; a good time was had by all (except, perhaps, Sam and Eddie).
Oh. Right. I have a blog. Oops.
All right, gang: I admit it. I have been extraordinarily remiss in my updating and thusly negligent of my obligation to you, gentle readers. Just trust me when I say that it's been insane around here lately - mostly the good kind - and I have been swamped. But I'm working on paring my 1000+ unedited photos down to those that are actually fit for public consumption, and I'm hoping to have a batch of new entries up in the next day or so.
But just to tide you over:
1) I saw a horse and cart loaded with figs trotting down a major highway the other day.
2) Hotels here give you complimentary slippers along with the shampoo and sewing kits and whatnot. How cool is that?
3) Goats tied to telephone poles are not entirely unusual here.
4) There will be more, shortly. Keep your hair on - I'm getting there.
Love you all bunches!
But just to tide you over:
1) I saw a horse and cart loaded with figs trotting down a major highway the other day.
2) Hotels here give you complimentary slippers along with the shampoo and sewing kits and whatnot. How cool is that?
3) Goats tied to telephone poles are not entirely unusual here.
4) There will be more, shortly. Keep your hair on - I'm getting there.
Love you all bunches!
Thursday, September 4, 2008
The Land of Golden Arches
Okay, so I had McDonald's today.
Forgive me, you salvage-the-rainforests, save-the-sperm-whale, defeat-the-beef-industry former classmates of mine (Libby, I'm looking at you). McDonald's has been a reluctant staple of my existence since I was, as they say in Wild Oats, knee high to a corn muffin. Not to mention that Happy Meals were the progenitors of most of my toys when I was small. And how better to compare life in Türkiye to life in the USA than by sampling common cuisine?
Not that I'm feeling an overwhelming need to self-justify here, or anything...
I mentioned in a prior post that McDonald's does this nifty thing here where they deliver. I don't know if this is common in other cities, but in Hometown, you would be more likely to see a giraffe tapdance than a Vespa with a Mickey-D's delivery box strapped to the back. And so of course I had to try it, and my anne was kind enough to call in an order for a cheeseburger with fries and a Coke today at lunch.
The meal arrived probably fifteen minutes after she placed the call. I managed to get a picture of the back end of the delivery guy's bike by hanging halfway out an upstairs window. Just sort of imagine a Vespa where the bush is:
The meal itself is pictured here, along with a copy of Under the Tuscan Sun (my preferred literature of the moment):
And I would just like to point out for the record that ketchup packets are infinitely easier to open here than they are there. In the US, it's taken as a given that those silly little ketchup packets are either a) for strictly decorative purposes, or b) intended as the playthings of small children who would like nothing better than to stomp on them until they give way. Not here! Even with fingers greasy from fries, the packet opened with absolutely no fuss or dramatics.
The meal itself tasted remarkably similar to a USA McDonald's meal. The food was a little on the cool side, presumably from the transit over, but that was the only discernable difference, as taste goes. And I'm pretty sure they gave me more fries than I'd have gotten in a USA McDonald's - no complaints there!
And to think! Burger King delivers! Arby's delivers! Subway delivers! Pizza Hut, Dominoes, and Little Caeser's deliver! So much to try, and so little time! But now you'll have to excuse me, as we break fast shortly and we're having dolma, with pilav and güllaç, and I'll take those over fast food any day of the week.
Forgive me, you salvage-the-rainforests, save-the-sperm-whale, defeat-the-beef-industry former classmates of mine (Libby, I'm looking at you). McDonald's has been a reluctant staple of my existence since I was, as they say in Wild Oats, knee high to a corn muffin. Not to mention that Happy Meals were the progenitors of most of my toys when I was small. And how better to compare life in Türkiye to life in the USA than by sampling common cuisine?
Not that I'm feeling an overwhelming need to self-justify here, or anything...
I mentioned in a prior post that McDonald's does this nifty thing here where they deliver. I don't know if this is common in other cities, but in Hometown, you would be more likely to see a giraffe tapdance than a Vespa with a Mickey-D's delivery box strapped to the back. And so of course I had to try it, and my anne was kind enough to call in an order for a cheeseburger with fries and a Coke today at lunch.
The meal arrived probably fifteen minutes after she placed the call. I managed to get a picture of the back end of the delivery guy's bike by hanging halfway out an upstairs window. Just sort of imagine a Vespa where the bush is:
The meal itself is pictured here, along with a copy of Under the Tuscan Sun (my preferred literature of the moment):
And I would just like to point out for the record that ketchup packets are infinitely easier to open here than they are there. In the US, it's taken as a given that those silly little ketchup packets are either a) for strictly decorative purposes, or b) intended as the playthings of small children who would like nothing better than to stomp on them until they give way. Not here! Even with fingers greasy from fries, the packet opened with absolutely no fuss or dramatics.
The meal itself tasted remarkably similar to a USA McDonald's meal. The food was a little on the cool side, presumably from the transit over, but that was the only discernable difference, as taste goes. And I'm pretty sure they gave me more fries than I'd have gotten in a USA McDonald's - no complaints there!
And to think! Burger King delivers! Arby's delivers! Subway delivers! Pizza Hut, Dominoes, and Little Caeser's deliver! So much to try, and so little time! But now you'll have to excuse me, as we break fast shortly and we're having dolma, with pilav and güllaç, and I'll take those over fast food any day of the week.
Tuesday, September 2, 2008
Ramazan
Author's note: This was actually written two days ago, but due to editing, scheduling conflicts, and general laziness, is only being posted today. The Author apologizes, and warns you to expect the same in the future.
Today's the second day of Ramazan. As I was writing this entry, I hadn't eaten or drank anything in thirteen hours, and rereading it after we broke fast, found that it didn't actually make any sense. So I rewrote it.
The way it was explained to me, Ramazan (Ramadan, in the US and possibly elsewhere) serves to make Muslims understand what the poor must endure. Adherents abstain from food, drink, alcohol, and sexual activity during daylight hours. However, it's worth mentioning that Ramazan moves forward ten days every year. People here speak fondly of fasts in the winter, when daylight hours are much shorter.
Fasting Muslims arise before sunrise (around four in the morning) for sahur, the morning meal. To my knowledge, there isn't a set menu: eat what'll get you through. In my family, we ate soup, pasta, cheese, bread and honey; I know another family here that eats granola, and another that doesn't fast at all. It all depends on the person. During sahur, we watched the Ramazan programming on TV. I can't understand very much of it (or any of it, actually, as my vocabulary is still rather limited to vegetables and the odd adjective), but Anne tells me that it's a university theology professor discussing the origins of Ramazan. I would also like to mention that Coca-Cola has a really excellent Ramazan-specific ad that has been airing this week. Unfortunately, YouTube is blocked here, or I'd go looking for a link. Y'all should go see if you can find it, because it is worth watching.
When we finished, we cleared the table and went back to bed and slept until around eight. Then Anne and I left the house for her office, and Baba for his. Today I met up with another Rotary exchange student I'll call Amy (names of course changed) and we wandered in the area around her office for a few hours. I also got a mildly hilarious sunburn. Those sunglasses did, in fact, block sun very well. I look rather like a confused raccoon.
Around three, Anne and I left the office and braved the traffic home. The congestion on the roads has gotten worse since I've been here, thanks to residents coming back from holiday for schoool and work. Furthermore, thanks to the fasting, tempers were running a little high and concentration was a little marred. We passed no fewer than four accidents on the way home. Most were pretty minor - a vegetable truck stopped, the sedan behind it didn't - but it was a sobering sight.
One the way home, Anne pulled over outside a fırın (bakery) and handed me a coins. "Say to them, 'Bir sıcak pide, lütfen.' It means 'One hot pide, please.' Repeat it: 'Bir sıcak pide, lütfen.'"
I repeated it a few times until I got it right, and got out of the car, clutching the coins in in a death grip.
Luckily for me, I was the only customer in the bakery. I approached the man behind the counter. "Bir sıcak pita, lütfen...?"
He hefted a pide (a sort of a spongy focaccia about the size of a medium pizza crust) and showed it to me. I nodded, and handed him my coins. He counted them, looked up sympathetically, and said something in Turkish.
"Sorry," I said, "Amerikan...just a minute," and I tore out of the shop and down to the car. "Anne, I think he says I need more money. Or that I have a lobster on my head. I'm really not sure."
Anne counted out a few more coins, and I ran back into the shop. The shopkeeper accepted them, grinning, and handed me my pita. I grinned back, and hopped down the steps to the car, and off we went again. About a block later, we passed a McDonalds (yeah, I know). It looked like any other McDonalds, except for the row of red Vespa-style scooters parked outside. There were maybe a dozen of them and they all had red carry-cases emblazoned with golden arches strapped behind the seat.
"McDonalds delivers here?" I squeaked.
My host mom shrugged. "Of course."
Does a fast-food place that delivers (aside from, you know, Dominoes) sound like the height of decadence to anyone else? And bear in mind that I was quite literally running on fumes at this point. I thought of a Big Mac, and salivated like one of Pavlov's pooches. "Can we order sometime?" I asked.
Once home, I attempted to write up a quick post and discovered that my concentration was shot and curled up with a magazine instead (Working Mother, left to me by a vacationing American before she went back to the US, bless her).
We broke fast a little before eight p.m. with a meal called iftar. I sat down fully expecting to consume every scrap of food that was on the table, and possibly the table cloth as well - and then discovered that I didn't want to. I had a bowl of soup, some bread with honey, cheese, and a few olives, and pronounced myself full.
And no, the Author didn't fast again today, although she may again sporadically during the Ramazan period in order to more fully embrace the experience. She feels that although the experience was illuminating and potentially slimming, the food here is just to good to willingly miss it.
Today's the second day of Ramazan. As I was writing this entry, I hadn't eaten or drank anything in thirteen hours, and rereading it after we broke fast, found that it didn't actually make any sense. So I rewrote it.
The way it was explained to me, Ramazan (Ramadan, in the US and possibly elsewhere) serves to make Muslims understand what the poor must endure. Adherents abstain from food, drink, alcohol, and sexual activity during daylight hours. However, it's worth mentioning that Ramazan moves forward ten days every year. People here speak fondly of fasts in the winter, when daylight hours are much shorter.
Fasting Muslims arise before sunrise (around four in the morning) for sahur, the morning meal. To my knowledge, there isn't a set menu: eat what'll get you through. In my family, we ate soup, pasta, cheese, bread and honey; I know another family here that eats granola, and another that doesn't fast at all. It all depends on the person. During sahur, we watched the Ramazan programming on TV. I can't understand very much of it (or any of it, actually, as my vocabulary is still rather limited to vegetables and the odd adjective), but Anne tells me that it's a university theology professor discussing the origins of Ramazan. I would also like to mention that Coca-Cola has a really excellent Ramazan-specific ad that has been airing this week. Unfortunately, YouTube is blocked here, or I'd go looking for a link. Y'all should go see if you can find it, because it is worth watching.
When we finished, we cleared the table and went back to bed and slept until around eight. Then Anne and I left the house for her office, and Baba for his. Today I met up with another Rotary exchange student I'll call Amy (names of course changed) and we wandered in the area around her office for a few hours. I also got a mildly hilarious sunburn. Those sunglasses did, in fact, block sun very well. I look rather like a confused raccoon.
Around three, Anne and I left the office and braved the traffic home. The congestion on the roads has gotten worse since I've been here, thanks to residents coming back from holiday for schoool and work. Furthermore, thanks to the fasting, tempers were running a little high and concentration was a little marred. We passed no fewer than four accidents on the way home. Most were pretty minor - a vegetable truck stopped, the sedan behind it didn't - but it was a sobering sight.
One the way home, Anne pulled over outside a fırın (bakery) and handed me a coins. "Say to them, 'Bir sıcak pide, lütfen.' It means 'One hot pide, please.' Repeat it: 'Bir sıcak pide, lütfen.'"
I repeated it a few times until I got it right, and got out of the car, clutching the coins in in a death grip.
Luckily for me, I was the only customer in the bakery. I approached the man behind the counter. "Bir sıcak pita, lütfen...?"
He hefted a pide (a sort of a spongy focaccia about the size of a medium pizza crust) and showed it to me. I nodded, and handed him my coins. He counted them, looked up sympathetically, and said something in Turkish.
"Sorry," I said, "Amerikan...just a minute," and I tore out of the shop and down to the car. "Anne, I think he says I need more money. Or that I have a lobster on my head. I'm really not sure."
Anne counted out a few more coins, and I ran back into the shop. The shopkeeper accepted them, grinning, and handed me my pita. I grinned back, and hopped down the steps to the car, and off we went again. About a block later, we passed a McDonalds (yeah, I know). It looked like any other McDonalds, except for the row of red Vespa-style scooters parked outside. There were maybe a dozen of them and they all had red carry-cases emblazoned with golden arches strapped behind the seat.
"McDonalds delivers here?" I squeaked.
My host mom shrugged. "Of course."
Does a fast-food place that delivers (aside from, you know, Dominoes) sound like the height of decadence to anyone else? And bear in mind that I was quite literally running on fumes at this point. I thought of a Big Mac, and salivated like one of Pavlov's pooches. "Can we order sometime?" I asked.
Once home, I attempted to write up a quick post and discovered that my concentration was shot and curled up with a magazine instead (Working Mother, left to me by a vacationing American before she went back to the US, bless her).
We broke fast a little before eight p.m. with a meal called iftar. I sat down fully expecting to consume every scrap of food that was on the table, and possibly the table cloth as well - and then discovered that I didn't want to. I had a bowl of soup, some bread with honey, cheese, and a few olives, and pronounced myself full.
And no, the Author didn't fast again today, although she may again sporadically during the Ramazan period in order to more fully embrace the experience. She feels that although the experience was illuminating and potentially slimming, the food here is just to good to willingly miss it.
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