One Last Trip

This past weekend I went with two of my co-workers to Mersin - or rather, Kız Kalesi, to be precise, a town near Mersin, named for the amazing castle floating out in the middle of the ocean a few yards from shore. The trip was amazing, and the timing of it couldn’t have been better, at two weeks before I leave the country. And I enjoyed the company of my friends Duygu and Selda.

We left at 1 AM Saturday morning, switched buses in Mersin, and arrived at about 7:00 AM I think. We slept until about 10, after the late night travel session, then spent the entire day at the beach. It was scorchingly hot and I got burned pretty bad, but it was sooooo relaxing and the water was the perfect temperature. I enjoyed the uniquely Turkish institutions of selling simit (a fresh baked roll of bread formed in a circle) as well as tea and coffee on the beach. The guys walk around with trays of simit or canteens of hot water with tea and instant coffee mix, which you can buy for about a lira each. Only in Turkey!

After dinner, we watched some of the world cup match that evening (Paraguay vs. Spain, Spain won), with the intention to go back out afterwards, but during the match, we all just fell asleep. We did get a chance to walk around in the evening before that, however, which was nice, but nothing out of the ordinary or notable happened. We did stop to buy magnets featuring aerial pictures of the castle, though.

On Sunday, along with one of the Zirve University staff folks, the head of security, in fact, who was also in town, joined us for a day long boat tour. This provided great views of the castle, swimming in coves, and a rather lively dance party on the boat. There was one cove in particular that had an awesome underwater cave on the other side of some overhanging rocks. You duck your head under and swim forward a few feet, and when you come back up for air, you’re inside an awesome cave, with the light from outside coming through an opening in the rock wall and bouncing off the water to reflect on the other walls. After that, we went back to our hotel, got showers, and met up with the security man, who gave us a ride home. On the way, we dropped off another passenger, who lived in Karamanmaraş, a city famous for its ice cream, which, in spite of it being after midnight, we made sure to sample. We arrived back in Gaziantep the same hour we had left - 1 AM.

Taking this trip at this time proved more perfect than I could have realized (especially since I had originally wanted to go two weeks earlier). But I’m now in my last two weeks in Turkey, finishing class this week with exams next week. And due to this trip, instead of thinking about all the negative things and the problems we’ve had with the administration’s decisions, the cultural differences in running a university, and the mundane grind of working every day, I’m thinking about the good things about this country: the amazing places like Kız Kalesi, the amazing people like Duygu, Selda, and Hacer Bey, and the memories I have of all the trips I’ve been able to take since being here. And that is a great attitude to have while finishing up. It’s even got me thinking that I have to come back to visit - but I don’t want to ever work here again, if I can help it!

Swimming Between the Sexes

Sunday, we went to a swimming pool just a short drive by taxi outside of town. It was a lot of fun, and much needed. Being able to immerse oneself in water makes everything so much better. But here, too, cultural differences abound.

In the first place, there were two distinct sections: a men’s section and a family section, which meant women and children could be there. We wanted the family section, which was a little bit more well-kept, and one of us was married with his wife, so we boldly strode forward into the family section. After a brief row with a security guard, who saw five men and one woman and didn’t like it, a local man came to our rescue and argued that we would not cause a problem, and that he should let us stay. So we did.

However, the male members of our group did make a few forays onto the other side, where we were stared at, asked to play basketball with, and more than a little discomfited by the absence of even a single female member of the species. However, the men’s side had all the best waterslides.

During the course of the day one topic of conversation that came up was how the reasoning behind such separation hinges on a supposedly Koranic teaching that men can’t control themselves, which is why women here are encouraged to wear full headscarfs and trenchcoats in 100-degree weather. If that’s the case, then why do these out-of-control men get all the privileges and status in society? It is, as our female companion put it, “rewarding bad behavior.”

If, as men, we are so incapable of controlling ourselves, why don’t you lock us away in the kitchen and home all day and let the more level-headed women deal with the business of life outside the home? The logic makes no sense to me. I say men sure are responsible for their behavior, and the heavier the consequences for behaving irresponsibly, the better!

Women ought to be treated with respect and dignity, in spite of whatever male urges we might have. Making them over up to the point of discomfort only hides the problem, it doesn’t deal with it. Only the heart-changing power of the Gospel can work to break the problem, and even then, it often takes quite a long time, as I can attest personally.

Getting Lost and Losing Money

Last Tuesday I went to Zirve’s business school, where I have been teaching Spanish to a woman in the export - import business. Usually there is a taxi for the people going home that the school pays for. However, there were so many people that particular night that we couldn’t all fit in the taxi. So, the alternative was to catch a ride home with a couple of the students, however, through a miscommunication and my lesson running a bit late, the students left with one other teacher, and without me.

The director apologized and gave me money for bus fare, which was a good thing, because I was quite thoroughly broke. So I waited and waited for the bus, but those going my way are rather infrequent from the nearest stop. The only one I saw that I thought would go that way was for Karataş, an area not too far from where I live - or so I thought! I took it, and after weaving its way through many parts of the city I didn’t know, I decided to ask someone.

“Üniversite çok uzak” were the oh-so-encouraging words I heard. “The University is very far.” Yikes! So, after a consultation that seemed to involve everyone on the dolmuş - that is, the small, tightly packed buses that travel just a bit faster than the larger public ones - they suggested I get off at a certain stop where I can then catch a bus going towards University. That is, I could catch a bus, if I weren’t so broke that I didn’t even have enough to cover bus fare!

So I walked. It was a bit of a hike, but not so far as I had feared, and after a block of walking in the direction the folks on the bus had pointed out, I found myself in familiar surroundings. By then, I was able to judge about how far I was, because I knew the area. It wasn’t close, but it could have been a lot worse.

The next day was even more frustrating. Because of not having any money, I was trying desperately to find ways of accessing the money in my American account. I have forgotten my PIN number because I haven’t used the card since I’ve been here. I realized I might be able to send money to myself through Western Union - I might get charged a fee, but that would be better than starving! So I tried it.

I left work early to send some mail, go to the Western Union at the bank, and go to the doctor. The doctor and the post office went off without a hitch, but getting my money didn’t happen. I sent $100 to myself, which was more than I really needed, but sending less didn’t seem worth it. I went to the bank and it turned out that I needed the number I hadn’t written down. So I came back home, got the number, and went back. Once I had the number, it turned out they couldn’t give me money because my middle name is on my passport, which I was using to verify my identity, and it wasn’t on the information about who would pick it up! So I tried to correct the problem by resending it, with the intent to call customer service and work out the details later. Resending resulted in a separate transaction, and did not allow me to add my middle name to the pick up details. So now I was out $200, and couldn’t pick it up.

So of course I called customer service, but they naturally suspected some kind of fraud and were evasive in answering my questions. Moreover, the only way I could make any changes to the transaction would be for them to call the phone number that they have on file, and speak to me. The phone number they have on file is my Mom’s number back home, where I’m obviously not! So they couldn’t add my middle name to allow me to pick it up, or cancel it without speaking to me at that number!

And now there is $200 sitting in Western Union with no possibility of being picked up. Quite frustrating, really, and nothing I can do about it, it seems.

Monday, I felt like my ear was a little swollen, so I decided to go to the doctor after work. And boy, was it an adventure!

I went to the Gaziantep University hospital, asked the information desk where to go for an ear problem, and was pointed to the ENT on the fourth floor. The ENT (or KBB, for Kulak, Burun, Boğaz) office secretary actually spoke pretty good English, but not well enough that there weren't problems communicating.

I will give the rest of the story from the Skype conversation I had with my girlfriend, copy/pasted below:

[17.05.2010 18:18:25] Jeremy Graves: then at one point, while I waited for an hour and a half, a lady from the public relations office came by, and he told her about me, and she hung around helping translate what the other guy couldn't say

[17.05.2010 18:18:41] Jeremy Graves: even though I'd figured most of it out by context

[17.05.2010 18:19:07] Jeremy Graves: oh, and I was waiting BEHIND THE SECRETARY'S desk this whole time!

[17.05.2010 18:19:17] Jeremy Graves: because that's where they invited me to sit

[17.05.2010 18:19:35] Jeremy Graves: then the secretary took me to the staff lounge or something for tea

[17.05.2010 18:19:41] Jeremy Graves: we chatted for a bit there

[17.05.2010 18:20:19] Jeremy Graves: then I finally saw the doctor, confirmed that it was an ear infection, got cleaned and vaccuumed out, and a prescription

[17.05.2010 18:21:01] Jeremy Graves: had to come back home, sort through old e-mails to find the number to give them for insurance

[17.05.2010 18:22:02] Jeremy Graves: went back, dealt with the PR lady again to get that worked out - it wasn't working (I guess from context), she apparently called Zirve, got it worked out

[17.05.2010 18:22:35] Jeremy Graves: then we wait for the secretary (his name was Mehmet), to physically walk me to the pharmacy across the street so I can get my meds

[17.05.2010 18:23:05] Jeremy Graves: only to find out the internet isn't working so they couldn't work out payment with insurance and I have to go tomorrow

Mehmet invites me for tea again, and I thought, what the heck, so I joined him for a while, he practiced his English and then he had to get back to work and I came home

But the story doesn't end there, actually. I went back to the pharmacy the next day, taking a taxi from work since there were no buses in the middle of the day because there were no students (exams had been finished that morning). The taxi driver who we've all used frequently invited me for tea, and at first I protested, but again decided "Why not?" and agreed. So he drives me to the pharmacy, waits for me while I try to get my meds. I was waiting for a long time, uncertain what was happening, when finally Ahmet, the driver, comes in to see what the problem is. He finds out the internet is down again, and finally convinces the pharmacy tech to take down my information and a telephone number (I gave them Zirve's, since I don't have a cell phone here, and am not going to get one with only eight weeks left), so that they could process these things later. Then we went and had tea.

And as always, a seemingly simple task turned into a huge ordeal. But that's part of the fun of living in a foreign country. And because of that, I didn't feel stressed or upset, just amused.

Untold Tales of Antep 1

Today on the way to my one-on-one tutoring session, I wanted a bottle of water, so before going into the office where I tutor, I stopped at the coffee shop below it, thinking it’s a coffee shop, surely they have water. But it turned out I was wrong. I asked for water, and the gentleman got up, walked out, and returned a minute or two later with a bottle of water from a store a yard or two down. I could have done that, of course! Wouldn’t it have been easier to tell me to go a couple of doors down? Not that I would have understood that if it were said in Turkish, of course...

The reason this falls into the untold category, since it only happened today, is that this isn’t the first time something like this has happened. Once, we were at a little restaurant, which claimed to be an Italian restaurant, but, as we found out, didn’t have a chef. They only had pizza and drinks available - although I use the term loosely. Because when we all ordered pizzas, one of the workers walked across the street to the market, bought the ingredients, and a full hour later we finally had our pizzas. The wait was long enough that one of our number left.

So why do these kinds of things happen? Well, it’s a hospitality culture. There’s an obligation to accomodate, and that’s not necessarily a bad thing. The problem comes in when it’s applied and when it isn’t. My employer has accommodated me in many ways - gave me housing, helped me out quite a bit in my first few days. But there have still been lots of problems, lots of ways in which they have been most unaccommodating, some of which I’ve mentioned before. So this accommodation culture that demands a shopkeeper must serve you tea while you survey his wares can seem to be selectively applied.

Adventures in Travel

On Sunday, I returned from The Turkish Republic of North Cyprus (which is its own country, dangit, no matter what the rest of the world says!). I have every intention of writing a blog about that entire trip, but tonight I want to tell you about the most adventurous part - coming back home. But first, a little backstory.

We (that is, Martha, Judy and I) booked plane tickets and hotels back in February. But a couple of weeks later, our flight out was cancelled. No big deal. We rescheduled for last Wednesday night. Thursday was a test day, so we figured we’ll get colleagues to cover our classes, nothing doing. Then a couple of weeks later, our flight BACK was cancelled. Well, we could either fly back Sunday on a different airline and return to a different city, or wait until Monday. Since we were already taking Wednesday off, we thought it would be very bad to take any more days off. So our return plan was to fly to Antakya and take a bus from there back to Gaziantep.

Fast forward to the trip and its end this past Sunday. We stopped into the Anglican church for their communion service. It was a great treat to go to church in English. Then we walked to the bus stop where we caught our bus to the airport. Then we took the short flight across the Mediterranean to the mainland. In Antakya, we endured the chaotic mesh of people pressing and shoving to get back onto Turkish soil.

And then the adventure began. We hadn’t really had a clear plan, other than catching the bus to Gaziantep. From my Easter trip, I knew that there were actually two bus stations - the first, more popular one, was the eski otogar (old bus station), where you could get the small, crowded, stuffy buses that are pretty uncomfortable for a four hour drive. Besides that, they stop EVERYWHERE to pick up anyone who flags them down. Then there’s the yeni otogar (new bus station), where you can get the more comfortable, large buses that don’t stop as much and actually enforce limited seating. So we wanted the yeni otogar.

We took the Havaş, the airport shuttle, towards town and stopped it at the yeni otogar. But there, we found out the next bus to Gaziantep was already booked, and there wouldn’t be another until 4:00 PM. It was only about 1:00 at the time. So that was no good. We then got another taxi to the eski otogar. But on the way, the taxi driver saw a bus headed for Antep, and flagged it down and let us get out and onto the bus.

This one wasn’t so small, but it did stop everywhere and pick up anyone who flagged it down. It took us about a half to three quarters of the way, then stopped and all the people bound for Gaziantep had to get off and get on yet another bus! This one was smaller, more crowded, and stopped even more times to pick up anyone who flagged it down, even if there was clearly no more room! They even put out little plastic stools in between the rows of seats! Cramped and uncomfortable as it was, we did make it home, eventually.

But if that wasn’t enough, just tonight I had another adventure in travel. Since I had to cancel the private Spanish lesson I’ve picked up on Saturdays because of my trip to Cyprus, I planned on doing a make up lesson tonight. I had to catch one of the student buses from work to the Grand Hotel, which is near the office for the continuing education program, where I give these lessons.

As I was walking to the buses, I saw three of them taking off! I thought, Oh no! but maybe it wasn’t a big deal. Maybe one of the ones that was still there was the one I needed. I asked the first driver I came across “Grand Otel?” and he pointed forward - to the bus that was already gone. As a look of dismay creased both of our foreheads, he suddenly brightened and waved me onto his bus. Through gestures, he made it plain that he intended to catch up to the other bus and stop it so that I could get on.

And he did. But he didn’t catch up to it in the Zirve University driveway. And he didn’t catch up to it on the main road just outside of ZU. He caught up to it at the roundabout on the road into town, which was a horrible place to stop, but the other driver finally pulled off to the side of the road just beyond the roundabout. Then I got out and mounted the other bus, after making sure that he was, indeed, going to the Grand Otel.

When I finally arrived, and waited for my student...and waited...and waited...the director at ZUCEP called her only to find out that she was flying to Egypt that night and would be gone for three or four days. So after all my crazy adventure in getting to the place, my student didn’t even show up! I wasn’t particularly angry or upset at the situation, just highly amused. All in all, it was just another day in Turkey.

Shipping and Handling

I thought I would take a moment today to explain how shipping a package from here works. Granted, I’ve only tried it twice, but it’s rather inconvenient. Some of my fellow teachers have had the full experience.

When we arrived, we were told we could have mail sent to Zirve, which it turns out is the best option. I’ve received several packages from back home there. Otherwise, in order to pick up a package sent to your home address, you have to travel way across town, almost in the middle of nowhere to pick up a package at the post office. To send a package, there’s another option that isn’t so far away, but is still most inconvenient from the side of town I live on. I live on the Southwestern outskirts of Gaziantep, just before the shops and apartment buildings become empty land and villages. The nearest post office is in the city center, downtown, a twenty or thirty minute bus ride at best, followed by a bit of a walk. And when you’re carrying a package to deliver, it doesn’t make for easy hauling.

The first time I sent a package was at the very, very far away post office, the same time a colleague was picking up hers. And the package still hasn’t arrived, I’m told. Perhaps it got held up in customs, since it was pictures of Christina’s and my trip in January on CD. I guess the customs folks worried that it might be Al Qaida training videos or something...anyway, it never got there.

The second time was just this past week. I planned to send a package from the downtown office, but it turned out that wasn’t necessary. I bought a birthday gift for Christina, but needed a box to ship it in, and wasn’t sure if I could get them from the post office. I asked at my local market, and they told me to bring the package there, and they would help me. I figured they just meant they would find a suitable box. Well, as it turned out, they took care of mailing it for me. The next day, when I went back, they asked me for the cost of shipping and gave me the receipt. This is, of course, a much more convenient way of handling the matter. I don’t know if it will be any more successful at making it through customs, but we’ll find out in a few weeks, I hope!