My Love Letter To Istanbul

Last April I left Istanbul in a sudden rush. No doubt, I was elated to be home where I could easily access all of my American favorites. There were so many things I missed about home while I was over there. I constantly craved Dunkin Donuts -- The only DD in Istanbul was this tiny stand in a mall in a neighborhood called Bakirkoy and it tasted like bitter walnuts and grass. I missed McDonalds because for some odd reason the Turks are obsessed with Burger King. I missed access to black hair care cause Lawd knows there's no such thing in Turkey and most poignantly, I missed my family and friends -- Every day I was there I wished that I could have smuggled them over in my suitcases.

But lately, I simply cannot help but miss Istanbul, the Queen City. I think about that city often, fondly, and with an acute warmness in my heart. I miss everything about that place sometimes much like I missed home when I was there. All the romanticized sentiments one can have about a foreign land, I hold in my heart for Istanbul.

I miss the Imam's call to prayer. Even if you're not Muslim its hard to ignore the beauty of adhan. I miss eating after work with my roommate at Etiler Cafe (one of our favorite spots), chatting and gossiping about the old miserable teachers we worked with. I miss coming home to my roommate's proper cup of English tea -- something I try in vain to replicate here at home. I miss the Bosphorus. I miss being down on Eminonu and being able too look across the water and see Asia. I miss the efficiency of public transportation (I still have my IstanbulKart) because we all know how much of a failure SEPTA is. I miss the generosity of the people there... You haven't experienced hospitality until you've been to Turkey. I miss having tea or salep with EVERYTHING. And I miss learning something new every day and I miss meeting and having conversations with people from around the world -- people I would have otherwise never met or knew existed. People who helped shape my experience in that country. 
 


I find myself watching documentaries about Istanbul, recalling when I visited the places highlighted. When I'm at work I look up cheap flights to see how much it would cost to spend a week there. A few weeks ago I sought out a Turkish restaurant because I was craving kofte and salep. I dragged my friend along with me but she was not nearly as excited to be be there as I was.

I want to go back... Nah, scratch that I need to go back. I don't think there will ever be a time in my life where I won't feel that Istanbul and I have a special relationship. I still cannot fully articulate why I chose Turkey. Going there was like the quest for the Holy Grail. I mean, who gives a shit what or where the Holy Grail is -- Its the quest that's important. Its the changes that come with the quest that are important. Matter of fact, the more I think about it I feel like Turkey chose me. And as random as it may seem to those who inquire about my time there -- A black American girl in love with an ancient Ottoman city -- there is nothing more genuine than my feelings for that place.

 And I am eternally grateful to even experience those feelings because I know that not everyone will truly empathize with the sentiments I speak on. I think people my age are so wrapped up in being financially successful that they forget that there are other more enriching experiences to be had. I think a lot of my peers put of all their energy into building their careers and there is nothing wrong with that. But what I've also come to realize is that there is also so much honor in trying to seek out the world. There is so much to be learned, so much an office or grad school program could never teach you. 


Life is short and the world is big and that is a fact we shouldn't be taking for granted with all of our youth and energy. 

I know now that moving to Turkey post graduation was one of the best decisions I have ever made. I cannot think of a better way to have spent that time -- contrary to what many have said to me. I cannot wait to go back one day to hug my friends, visit familiar places, and neighborhoods and to fill the void curable only by the breathtaking beauty of Istanbul.   

Until then, I hold you, Istanbul, affectionately in my heart. 

Brittany

Republic of Close Talkers

I hate people being all up in my face and personal area and here, there is a clear difference between the amount of personal space allotted in American culture and the amount allotted in Turkish culture. Basically, you don't get any personal space in this culture. If the bus is full of empty seats (which is rare) and you sit by yourself, someone is sure to sit next to you even if there are 10 other open seats. Every greeting is a hug (and not the little pitter patter, butt out hugs, or side, one arm hugs) but a full on hug and two kisses on the cheek. 

All those things mentioned above don't really bother me, unless I'm in a grumpy mood. However, the one thing that gets to me the most is the abundance of Close Talkers. Turkey is a nation full of close talkers. 

I was walking down the street the other day and one of my students saw me and approached me and, no lie, I almost pulled one of these. 

I wanted so badly to ask him remove himself  from my area but I didn't want to be rude cause talking that close to someone here is perfectly normal. I just can't take it though. And can you imagine in the summer time having someone that close to your face? Oh my God. 

I don't want to discuss it any further, its upsetting me. 

Until next time, folks. 

Unfortunate Fish Fry

For the last few weeks as you guys know, I've been craving something than Turkish food. So the other day I thought I would quit complaining about the lack of foreign food and be proactive about my situation. I decided I would head down the the big grocery store on the Metrobus, buy me some fish and have a fish fry. 

I had never been to the huge grocery store here yet but I had just assumed that it would be pretty similar to the American grocery store -- But of course assuming makes an ass out of ume now doesn't it?

When I got there, I went searching for the seafood section which proved the be in vain. There was a tiny meat/frozen food section where I found some frozen fish filets in a packet. Okay whatever, that will do just fine... So I thought. 

I purchase my seasoning and some corn meal then I make my way home. I start prepping, getting my eggs and cornmeal set up right and finally I crack open the bag and the most repugnant, antagonistic smell came to me. 

I immediately went straight to Google and put in the word hamsi which is in big bold letters on the bag to see which type of foul fish I was dealing with. It turns out hamsi is anchovies (insert sad face here).

WHO FILETS ANCHOVIES THOUGH?! THEY'RE MAD TINY!

Apparently, anchovies are a popular fish between the months of November and March. The name even comes from the arabic word hamsin which means "winter period." They fry it, grill it, steam it,  turn it into a meatball, or put it in a sandwich. Gross. 

Needless to say, I had to scrap my dinner plans. I ended up just throwing my fish below to the hustling ass cats that live on my street.

 I ended up eating only fries for dinner. 

Sigh... The culinary gods frown upon me. 

Watch Your Mouth, Girl: 3 English Words You Shouldn't Say In Turkey

Well its no secret that I have a potty mouth -- At least for those of you who know me. I really do quite enjoy a good swear word. Plus, Mark Twain once said, "Let us swear while we may, for in Heaven it will not be allowed."  

Amen

I couldn't have said it better myself, Brother Twain. So naturally, since being here I've picked up a few swear words. (My favorite one is actually a Punjabi curse my roommate taught me -- Pudya Vinda). However, in my cultural cursing discoveries, I've found that there are three English words that are actually obscenities here in Turkey. So come and read along as I show you how our everyday words are dirty ones in Turkish. 

I. Pushed

I was teaching a grammar lesson on the simple past tense. Of course, when I came to the word "Push" I simply told my students to put an "ed" on the end of it to make "pushed." As soon as I said the word,  a few people in the class giggled and a couple others frowned up their faces in disapproval. One of my male students told me that it was a very bad word to say and warned me against using it in public because it could start a fight. So I asked him, well what does it mean -- cause the fact that the mere mention of the word in public would start a physical altercation peaked my interest even more. Unfortunately, he refused to tell me. I later found out that the closest translation for it in English is "Bastard Two Faced Person"  which doesn't sound all that crazy to me but I figure most of the meaning is lost in translation. 

II. Sick

If I ever ask my students how they are feeling and they happen to be feeling under the weather, they always will say, "I am ill." Being a native English speaker, we would probably say "I'm sick" so I always thought it was kind of funny but I just attributed that to the fact that English was their second language. Of course I found out the other day that there is a specific reason for them not using the word "sick." In Turkish, "sick"  means "dick." 

Yup, they even rhyme. How cute is that?

III. Um

Um is probably the king of all American filler parts of speech (Uh would probably be queen). Be that as it may, in Turkey um  is non existent as a particular speech disfluency -- Their version of um is ya'ani. But if you do find yourself here one day, its best to try to trade in your um's  for uh's because here it is the equivalent to our curse word "pussy."That's right, little did I know, I had been saying pussy more than the self proclaimed Pussy Monster himself, Lil' Wayne. 

You learn new shit everyday, right?

Observations: My Patriotic Duty To Be Uninterested In Soccer

Soccer  is EXTREMELY popular here in Turkey. People get Super Bowl hype for every single match and I'm not exaggerating. Whenever an Istanbul team wins, you hear horns honking, drunk people running and screaming in the streets, people shooting off celebratory guns shots -- It reminds me of how Philly went crazy when the Phillies won the World Series.  Basically, people act a damn fool. I don't even go outside when there's a game on.

Last night, though, I went to a friend of a friend's house to watch the Galatasary and Real Madrid match -- Which is like a rivalry of epic proportions. Like Cowboys vs Eagles, Ja Rule vs 50 Cent, Haitian vs Dominicans big. Now if you know me then you know that I'm not the biggest sports fan in the world and out of all the sports, I definitely couldn't give a rat's ass about soccer but whatever -- When in Rome, right?  

So there was a room full of Galatasaray fans and one fool in there going mad hard for Real Madrid. I only call him a fool because Turks are OD emotional when it comes to soccer so you can't just be trash talking all crazy when a match is on. But sure as shit, this guy was going in and everybody in room was giving him the nastiest stink eye you could ever imagine. One guy even asked my friend why she brought him and later on we had to take him aside and tell him to tone it down or else we weren't gonna make it out alive.

Real Madrid wins the match and what followed was quite possibly the saddest loss I've ever witnessed. When the game was over, everyone in the picture above got up from their seats, literally did not say one word, put on their jackets, and left the house without even saying goodbye to each other or to the host.  Might as well have been a scene from a Charlie Chaplin film cause wasn't NOBODY talking, bruh. The most pitiful of the pitiful, I tell you. 

But if you're anything like me (and by that, I mean a stereotypical American) you're probably thinking things like, "Why get your panties in a bunch over a soccer game?" and, "Isn't soccer a game for 8-13 years old girls who don't have the skills to play basketball?  Yeah. I personally don't get it, either.  

All I really know is this -- I refuse to call this game football. Its one of my non-negotiables. It is my patriotic duty as an American citizen not only call it "soccer"  but to also to remain completely uninterested by any means necessary.

America, fuck yeah. 

Argo: Who Gon' Fact Check Me, Boo?

Yesterday on my day off I sat around, ate baklava, and caught up on my beloved American cinema. One of the movies that I watched was Argo. I must say that it was absolutely excellent. It had me shitting enough bricks to rebuild Tenochtitlan. Anywho, as the movie progresses, there is one scene where Tony (Ben Affleck's charater) is obtaining fake papers in order to enter Iran. This scene is filmed in Istanbul. 

Since I love yall so much I've conveniently embedded this clip for your viewing pleasure. 

So please, indulge...

The scene starts off with a lovely panoramic view of the Golden Horn . Then the scene changes to the exterior of the famed Blue Mosque and shows Tony walking into the entrance.

Now here's where I gotta put my mans Ben Affleck, as a director, in check. Once his character enters the mosque, the interior shown is not the interior of the Blue Mosque -- Its the interior of that Hagia Sophia which is actually across the street from the Blue Mosque. Allow me to show you...

Hagia Sophia Interior 

Blue Mosque Interior 

Not to mention towards the end of the scene, Tony and the other character are standing in front of a huge ancient painting of Christ -- And in Islam there are strict laws against idolism. So a big fat Jesus piece would be all wrong in the Blue Mosque. 

So knowing all this and being a huge movie buff, I had to share this with you guys. I won't allow yall to be Istanbul Ignant in these streets. 

YOU NOT GONNA CATCH ME SLIPPIN, HOLLYWOOD. 

Negro Pudding Cake

When I get off of work, your girl gets a little hungry so I stop at this little restaurant on the way home. The other day, I was looking for something sweet. I grabbed the menu and turned to the dessert page -- I had been to the place a million times before but never had dessert. So I'm scanning the dessert page, looking to satisfy my sweet tooth and then I get to the option listed third from the bottom

See for yourself. 

No, your eyes have not deceived you. You can have "Negro" for dessert and you bet your candy ass that's exactly what I ordered. I wasn't trying to eat there so I got my Negro to go. Not knowing what exactly it would taste like or what it was made of, I unwrapped my dessert with a little bit of excitement. 

When I opened that jern, what seemed to be a chocolate pudding-esque delight lay before me. Then I dipped my spoon into it and there were like little round cake balls inside of the pudding.

After a few spoon fulls of Negro pudding, my stomach started to ache from all the chocolate and with every additional spoon full it got nastier and nastier. I could go on no longer ... I didn't want a repeat episode of The Sultan's Revenge. 

Or, you know, maybe it was my inner black moral compass rejecting the dessert. 

 I'm officially a cannibal.