The final post. Wow. I suddenly will have time again in my day. What will I do with these extra hours not spent meticulously recording random events and sarcastic commentary? Hmmm, maybe I will once again have a life. Okay, let’s not be too ambitious here. Well, at least I’ll sleep more!

So I really have no plan for this post. I just feel like things should have a proper ending. Closure. A sense of finality. I thought about reflecting. But that’s essentially what this entire blog has been, no? A reflection on my experiences in Turkey?

I also thought about SURPRISE! making this post really short. Just for a change of pace. But I know, deep down inside, that no matter how hard I try, I shall get carried away and once again make it long and wordy. (I believe my own mother likened my writing style to the recent oil spill. Complete with the miming of excess words hurling oh so gracefully from a gagging mouth. Thanks Mom =P)

So, in the end, I decided I wanted to end with this message:

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

And as is fitting with the theme of this trip, I end with a Rumi quote (yes, from the 13 pages I read and I mayyyy have used it earlier. But it fits.):

Onward and upward!

~Ellen

The last list I shall suffer upon you is one I had been compiling in my head throughout this entire trip. It’s something that has always fascinated me and it’s generally what I spend my time observing when travelling in a foreign culture. So without further ado:

(Though to be completely honest, I’m not sure if you should really be listening to me, because the best I got was Dutch)

Hmmm, that’s a novel idea – learning the language of the country that you’re visiting? You mean America’s cultural imperialism hasn’t switched everyone to English yet?

Well, actually most people speak some English. But seriously, learning at least some Turkish not only helps you blend in, but you get instant effort points by the natives. So once you learn Turkish, start muttering it to your friends as you walk by shopkeepers and you’ll seem Turkish in no time.

By the way, I totally failed on this one. However, if you need some help, here are the Turkish words I learned:

And that sums up all the Turkish I learned this trip. So yeah. Do better than I did.

Don’t get me wrong, guidebooks are great. But memorize the contents in your hotel room. Otherwise you run the risk of repeating this said incident: http://turkishdelights2010.blogspot.com/2010/06/last-night-together.html. Remember? *shudder*

Despite culturally being one of the world’s biggest prudes, Americans loooove to show some skin. However, in most other cultures, only those of ill repute would dare leave the house in that low cut blouse and those Daisy Duke denim shorts. Yes, that might be your cute outfit that you wear to all the jorts parties, but unless you want invite conversation topics like ne kadar?, leave the tube top and 5 inch heels at home.

And avoid the flip flops. Not only very American, but you will fall and break your neck. Stones are slippery. I speak from experience.

What’s that? You were born blond with blue eyes? Hmmm…well, that might present a problem. Well, when all else fails, resort back to the first step: learn Turkish.

If you do happen to be graced with dark features, dye your hair red. Bright red. Ironically enough, you’ll fit right in.

Yeah, I don’t know what Turkishness is either.

Bursa. The soccer team whose total budget was less than the salary of one of the star players on any of Istanbul’s teams. Bursa. The team no one cared about, or even thought anything of. Yes, Bursa. The winners of the national cup. Sighhhh. But if you see a green and white striped flag, you’ll know why.

People will offer you tea. Or Turkish coffee. ACCEPT. First of all, most of the time it is free, and one should never, ever turn down something that is FREE. Second of all, it gives you a time to bond and chat. Third of all, if you have just eaten, your food will have time to digest. And fourth of all, and most importantly, if you have Turkish coffee, you can read your fortune.

Steps to reading your fortune:

1.       Drink your coffee, leaving behind the gritty dregs. Eat only if you are starving or in the middle of an intense conversation and have the tendency to fidget.

2.       Flip cup upside down and let sit. Have an insightful conversation. DON’T leave cup unattended. Not only could the fortune be contaminated, but waiters have this unfortunate tendency of clearing away said cups, foolishly assuming you are finished with them. Pshh.

3.       After the remaining liquid has drained, examine the inside of the cup. Observe and take note of the shapes that form on the side of the cup.

4.       Channel your inner psychic as you interpret your fortune. Psychic abilities are said to increase if your friend sings the Twilight Zone’s theme song creepily in the background.

In fact, if you’re brave enough, grab a few locals and partake in the Great Headscarf Debate.

The Turks love Rumi. They love his poetry. They love his shrine. So you too must learn to love Rumi. Now in a perfect world, you should actually read his poetry and fall in love with it. Yet, I do understand that people are busy and unfortunately there are times where one gets distracted by higher callings. Like…*cough* naps…

So if this should happen to be the case with you, as much as the book lover in me cringes at the thought, here’s my advice:

·         Memorize a few Rumi stories and casually drop them in daily conversation

·         If someone asks you to explain, simply say that dervishes have spent forty years meditating on the first story of the Mesnavi, so it would be foolish to think one understands it at this point in one’s life

·         For good measure, bemoan the government’s building of the Rumi Cultural Center a block away from his shrine.

‘Nuff said.

Ok that concludes Ellen’s Guide to Becoming a Turk. I have no credentials. I failed miserably at this. Everyone I met spotted me as an American from a mile away. But the advice is still sound. Enjoy!

One last post after this. This time for real.

Ok so I lied. I thought I would use my last post to sum up the trip and all the things I learned. So essentially, this was going to be a post of lists. However, I started writing my lists, realized they were very long (typical), so I am splitting them up into multiple posts.

It probably won’t interest you that much, but it’s just some things I wish to remember. Feel free to skip to more interesting posts.

And if you’re really lucky, I might even add a sentimental reflection post after I finish these.

·         Turks are either the best or the worst drivers I have ever seen

·         A lot of smoking – though not overwhelming – people are pretty polite about it

·         [Women] Unnatural hair colors are in

o   Youth: blond with dark roots

o   Middle-aged: Red or purple-ish. And I don’t mean ginger red. I mean candy apple red.

o   Old ladies: blond or gingerish

·         Nose jobs have become a status symbol

·         Shopkeepers are all male – which personally, I see as a mark of intelligence on the female’s part

·         Head-scarves, when worn, are pinned in a kerchief style

·         No beards. At all. Some of the youth have scruffy “oh I just forgot to shave” type beards. But that is it.

·         Ladies, wide-leg pant legs are in. I give it 2-3 more years and then that fashion will be here, too.

·         In all honesty, (and to steal this term from Nate), the PQ [prettiness quotient] is not very high here

·         Stereotypical village grandmother: short, overweight, wearing poofy colored pants with the crotch around calf-level and the waist band sitting right below boob-level (which admittedly is like mid-waist level). Head scarf is usually tied pretty tightly around face.

·         Stereotypical pious pilgrim: generally female, travelling in flocks, long skirts, long trench coat jackets (they must’ve been stifling), and vibrant headscarves. Also: don’t stand in their way.

·         Stereotypical Turkish man: dark hair, clean shaven, short sleeve collared shirt, and more often than not, crooked teeth

o   Exception: rural, middle to older-aged, middle-class more traditional men have big bushy mustaches

·         Stereotypical child: very friendly, look and act just like children everywhere

·         Family-oriented: people take their families to the numerous parks to picnic and whatnot

·         Time is appreciated more: one can distinguish the tourists from the natives by the pace of life at which they travel

·         Headscarves: Uncommon in cities, more common in rural areas

·         Evil Eye Pendants: designed to distract those who wish you evil. Seen/worn everywhere.

·         Food:

o   Tea or coffee is served after a meal – gives everyone a chance to sit, talk, and digest

o   A lot of meat and bread based meals, a lot of yogurt too

o   The fruit is to DIE for

o   From what I gathered, meals are more or less at the same time as they are here

·         *Very Intense devotion to Ataturk and extremely nationalistic*

·         Very involved in their politics – love to talk about it

·         Café culture: people spend their nights with friends at cafés, chatting and smoking nargila

·         Lot of visits to the shrines of famous saints, prophets, poets, etc.

o   Or until some shrines were decimated by Ataturk

·         Europe: business and historical sections, Asia: residential sections

·         Old and new combos everywhere

o   1000 year old building right next to a 20 year old building

·         Marble and tile work is very popular (it helps that Istanbul borders the Marble Sea)

·         Stone streets: beautiful but very slippery

·         The Byzantines were sloppy with their dome construction in the Ayasofia

·         Egyptians apparently knew how to construct bulletproof obelisks

·         Turks are colorblind when it comes to naming monuments

·         A cool array of foliage: tall skinny trees and short squat ones (very similar to the gardens in the Alhambra and the Generalife in Granada, Spain)

·         Cave homes look like termite mounds

·         Landscape spotted with small towns each about 20 min apart

·         Very modern city, quite prettily laid out

·         Statues of Ataturk everywhere

·         Unfortunately, didn’t get to see the coast or much of Eastern Turkey. Next time.

All in all, I’m sure I observed a lot more things. I was just trying to sum up what I noticed while in Turkey. You know, in addition to the pages and pages of things I posted prior to this.

Next post: Fun Facts.

Departure Day. Just a head’s up: this will be the last post concerning the day to day affairs of the trip. However, there will be one more post following this one that sums up the experience. So stay tuned and thanks to everyone who might still be reading this!

Flight departs: 1:05 pm. Morning plan: to get up early, say my goodbyes, do last minute souvenir shopping, and then take a cab over to the airport. What actually happened? Groggily awoke to say my goodbyes…and then prompty fell back asleep. Typical. I do manage to eventually drag myself from bed to enjoy that which is heavenly and divine: the hotel’s rain shower. Ahhh amazing.

Once I manage to shove everything I brought back into my carry-on (no small feat, let me assure you), I go down to the hotel lobby to check out before I leave on my souvenir escapade. Again, let me lament what is not to be, for as I enter the lobby I am almost quite literally swept up in a whirlwind of efficiency by my buddy, the bellhop (I really wish I had gotten his name :/). He grabs my luggage, moves me to the front of the line for check out, calls a cab, gives me a seat to sit in, runs my luggage out to the cab, and then gracefully helps me into the cab. All in about five minutes. And I am still, at this point, trying to get my bearings after exiting the elevator.

So yes, I am now currently seated in the front seat of a cab, trying to catch my breath. And I have very little memory how I got there. Haha well, I guess I won’t be doing my souvenir shopping before leaving this morning. But I give my eternal thanks to the awesome bellhop man for all his assistance =).

So the cab ride. Despite me now being able to speak Turkish (haaaa… yeah. right.), the ride is deathly silent. With some soft music playing awkwardly in the background.

But still, it is a very interesting experience. I’m pretty sure that the majority of the trip wasn’t spent on actual roads. Any hint of traffic ahead and my cab driver takes off speeding through parking lots and tiny paths that I’m pretty sure were for pedestrians only.

I also discover we are riding in an ATC, an All-Terrain Cab. Now, I’m all for off-roading it. My minivan and I have had some awesome adventures in the past. But even I am a little bit apprehensive as we approach a giant lake, depth unknown, blocking our entrance to the freeway. Yet, never fear. Despite water being up to our waist level and my fear-induced consideration of converting and fervourously praying for the safety of my body and soul, we do make it through alive. Whew.

Once at Ataturk International airport, I quickly sought out the Lufthansa check in desk. Unfortunately no computer check in screen. Sigh. Oh well, beggars can’t be choosers. Oh and at this desk, I encounter my First Dilemma of the trip: my carry-on luggage is overweight. Limit: 8 kilos (which is only like 17 pounds!). My bag? 12.4 kilos. Cue: puppy dog eyes, slightly panicked breathing, stuttered statements concerning my 40 minute layover time, and an overall helpless look. Operation Bend the Rules for Ellen? Success. [Big shout-out to my awesome check-in lady! :D. I owe you one.]

So the plan, as I sit in my window seat about to take off for Munich, is reminisce sentimentally on the wonderful experiences of these last few weeks. You know, some good ole introspective reflection time. Instead, I spend my take off trying to impress a sassy six year old (sorry, six and a half year old) with my newly developed and very extensive Turkish vocabulary. Hmm, I’m not sure if it worked though. She gave me a funny look when I counted “One…two…five”.

Flight itself? Uneventful as I once again partake in my favorite pastime: napping. The only real comment I have about this flight: Lufthansa failed to live up to the German stereotype. They were not on Mezut-time. Due to some slight technical difficulties (They broke the stairs. Don’t ask me how, but the stairs were broken.), our plane landed behind schedule, leaving an entire plane full of angry passengers late for their connecting flights. Enter Second Dilemma – a missed connection.

Now as soon as I heard we were late landing, I relaxed. Everyone else was panicking about getting to their connecting flight. Admittedly I should’ve been too, but by the time I got off the plane, there was only 15 minutes til my next plane took off. So I didn’t even bother. I still had to get through security. Plus side? The security people all thought I was German!

So when I saw several other people who were on my connecting flight all sprinting through the airport, I laughed mockingly. Newbs. I decided to save my time and energy and go straight to the empty Lufthansa help desk. And fifteen minutes later, I see my entire plane come sprinting back to the same desk which now had a super long line. Hahahaha, I revel in my foresight. Ten minutes later, I am on a different flight to Boston.

Scene: angry passengers in a long line at the help desk. Empty airport. Lone girl sprinting through said airport. Arrived at the gate about fifteen minutes before the plane was scheduled to depart. Engines were starting as I took my seat. Success.

[Interlude: at one of the ticket check points along the way, an airport worker turned to me randomly, said ‘You’re beautiful’, turned back around and resumed his conversation. Hahaha I’m touched, but still slightly perplexed.]

Highlights of my flight to Boston:

·         The latter half of the plane was empty. People grabbed entire rows to themselves and we got to stretch out! Score!

·         The plane had a staircase. Another thing to cross off of my “Never have I ever” list.

·         Touchscreen TVs are very distracting to my sleep. However, there was a Rumi reference (!) in the movie Valentine’s Day, which otherwise was absolutely horrible.

·         Lufthansa feeds you like no other. Totally awesome service. All you American airline companies need to take notes.

And the best part of the trip? My flight attendant was the epitome of the stereotypical gay German flight attendant. Complete with the legitimate tehe laugh, German lilt included. Totally made my day.

This will be brief. Boston’s airport = super confusing. There are four terminals. Each requiring a shuttle to get to. There is no list of which terminal your connecting flight is in. Thus, I am required to fall back on an ancient yet tried-and-true problem solving method: trial and error.

Three terminals and an annoying customs experience later, I finally find the right terminal. At last. I send a quick call to the ‘rents to confirm my arrival time. Hmm. It’s a good thing I did that. Apparently my parents forgot I was coming home today. Oops.

Uneventful. Except for the fact that they didn’t feed me. Grr. Cheapskates.

I arrive safely home at Raleigh Durham International. Funnily enough, I arrive home about half an hour earlier than when my initial itinerary planned. Huh, the irony. Also funnily enough, I exit my aircraft only to see Omid waiting there. Apparently, his plane had gotten in just a few minutes before and he decided to wait, so he could say that he saw me on three different continents in the last 24 hours.

I exit the airport and I am greeted by my two parents. There was much rejoicing. Monty Python style.

Thus ends my two and a half week adventure in Turkey. I am a little sad to be back. While it wasn’t love at first sight, Turkey definitely grew on me, and I will treasure my times there for as long as I can remember.

And when I forget, all I’ll have to do is look back on this blog! Which I’m sure will result in much head shaking at the antics and writing style of a much younger me.

Remember, there is still one more post coming, so stay tuned til then. Also, I apologize for the complete lack of pictures in this post. I had returned the camera I had commandeered back to its rightful owner.

Over and out.

Sadness. Today is my last full day left in Turkey. Tomorrow I must fly back to the real world once again. A sense of melancholy creeps over my heart  =(. On the plus side, I slept in til about 11:30! Marvelous.

The morning was spent going around and visiting friends whose acquaintances we had made during our brief stay here in Istanbul. First stop, the Grand Bazaar. Constant reminders of my inadequacy as a friend, sibling and daughter as I passed numerous souvenir shops selling gifts I still had yet to purchase. Oops.

First stop: Recep (pronounced Rejab). However, interception. Change of plans. First stop: Ali, the pashmina shop owner. Ali is down and depressed over the unfortunate lack of business ethics by his former business partner. Tea is drunk (drank, drunken, whatever), conversation is had, cards are exchanged, and goodbyes are said. Next stop: Recep. Goodbyes are also said. Unfortunately not much else though, because we have some castle climbing to do.

We transverse our way over to go see the castle-like fortress on the other side of Istanbul. On the way over there, after battling the crowds, being drenched in rain, and slowly destroying my umbrella, we spot a dead body. Huh. Or at least I assume she was dead. Potential clues: laying halfway in the street in the pouring rain, blood dripping down the forehead, and a crowd of people standing around…but no one standing within ten feet. That’s unfortunate :/. Looks to me like she slipped in the rain and cracked her head on the stone ledge. I told you these stone pathways were treacherous.

Well, that was a mood killer. Moving onto one of my most favorite buildings in Istanbul: the Rumeli Hisari. This castle-like fortress was built in 1452 by Mehmet the Second when he conquered Constantinople (now Istanbul), capital of the Byzantine Empire. The cool thing? This fortress was built in FOUR MONTHS. Yes, that is absolutely amazing. And, since it was raining, we were the only people there, so we really got to explore to our (or really my) heart’s desire.

Quick summary of the castle:

·         Offensively oriented: designed to cut off trade to Constantinople and to launch attacks, rather than to defend against any potential counter attacks.

·         Covered in staircases: very slippery when wet

·         Large pits: when walking along the walls, one nearly stumbles into these large moss covered pits (where the roof had caved in) that are several stories deep – it was a good thing there were no tourists about, or I totally would’ve been tempted to kick one in while shouting “This. Is. ISTANBUL!”

·         Beautiful view. Breathtaking. If this place weren’t a historical monument, I totally would live here.

All in all, LOVED this place. A must see for any castle buff who happens to be in Turkey.

After we finish castling it up (that is now a word), I am starving so we set off in search for one of my favorite pieces of Turkish cuisine: bread. Alas, I had to settle for really nice mezes at a waterfront restaurant in lieu of a cheap, stale baguette. Not only did we get to enjoy such exotic wildlife like jellyfish and Coke bottles swimming in the Bosphorus below us, but the waiters at the restaurant (outnumbering the patrons 7 to 2) made eye contact with our table every ten seconds. Literally. We counted.

Lunch time complete, we taxi it over to the Mecidiyye Mosque. Or as Omid called it: the Star Wars Mosque. Alas no, it did not look like the Death Star (which is what I was secretly hoping for), but I actually enjoyed this mosque much more than I expected. Here’s a pic: What do you guys think? Yay or nay on the Star Wars?

Once inside, I was greeted by a pleasant blend of pastels and a singing imam, camera crew included. I have no idea what they were filming or why, but it was super cool getting to sit there, sneakily observing the happenings.

Since it is freezing cold, we then leave to grab a quick cup of coffee before heading to the Last Big Adventure. (Though in the words of Captain Hook – “Death is the last great adventure”)

So after our lovely cup of coffee, Omid and I hop into a cab and set off to find the home of a man named Erinch Ozada. Erinch is a friend of Omid whom he met at a conference last year (if I remember correctly) and when Erinch heard that Omid was back in town, he invited him over to small dinner he was having with some friends. Me? I was fortunate enough to be tagging along. Oh and did I mention that Erinch is a billionaire?

We finally arrive at Erinch’s house (albeit 45 minutes late in a fashion typical of this entire trip), and I discover what it means to have prime real estate. Three words: location, location, location. This house is situated RIGHT on the Bosphorus. Exquisite view. We were also greeted by a butler. So cool.

So here’s the rundown of the situation: 8 people total invited to dinner, Erinch and his wife included. A quick glance reveals that I am the only one in the room under 30 and who is not either insanely rich or famous. First thought? AWESOME. Ohhhh how I love situations like this.

Okay the guest list:

1.       Erinch and his beautiful wife, Ayfer: the hosts for the evening

2.       Jeff and Andrea: A psychologist and his wife, stereotypical rich NY Jews

3.       Ufuq and Gul: two Turkish doctors (one a surgeon, the other a pain doc)

4.       Omid and I: one a well-known Muslim leader and Religious Studies professor, and the other a misplaced and random nineteen year old college student (I’ll let you figure it out)

The earlier part of the evening was spent chatting and subtly trying to figure out who the other people were. Andrea seemed especially perplexed by me and why I was there.  However, once we stopped dancing around the subject (“so do you have any kids?”) and I actually gave her an appropriate epithet for me (“Hi, I’m Ellen the Not Rich or Famous College Student”), conversation was actually quite lovely. (And by the way, I am enjoying this situation immensely. Soo much fun.)

Now Erinch and Ayfer have a son. A gorgeous son with blond curls and the most beautiful eyes that just make you melt whenever you lock eyes with him. I desperately wanted to marry him, on the spot. Alas, it was not to be. Even in Turkey, marriage between a 19 year old and a 2 year old might raise some eyebrows.

However, Kenan and I bonded over blocks. He called me abla! Meaning big sister :D.

Dinner was delicious (I feel like I’ve described every meal this way – but this dinner really was delicious). Multi-course, multi-fork yumminess served by a butler (who was super cool). Totally would’ve gotten a picture but I was too busy assimilating.

Conversation was …very interesting. Very. We talked about everything from the pursuit of passion, to the role of parents, to the us verse them dichotomy, to Islam in America, to psychology babble. There was a legitimate thirty minute conversation on whether Ufuq and Gul should provide the means for their 12 year old daughter pursue her dream of being a pop singer. The best part? I got to be the representative for my entire generation. And clearly I am qualified to speak for and represent billions of people :P.

After dinner, the evening was spent in more conversation. However full stomach + comfy couches = bad combination. Though I did wake up enough to join into the debate on the proper way to pursue self-discovery. The evening ended, we exchanged contact info, and took a cab home. All in all, it was an absolute delightful evening and definitely one of the highlights of the trip. I loved trying to appear sophisticated while secretly mocking my dinner companions behind (what tried to be) a straight face.

Actually, in complete truth, today was one of the best days of the trip. Rumeli Hisari? So cool. The dreary rain? Yes, it might’ve killed someone and my umbrella was completely destroyed (RIP Student Stores ‘brelly), but it definitely kept the crowds of tourists off the streets. I also got to witness a singing imam and that Gloria Jean’s coffee was more delicious that I really care to admit. And I got to attend a fascinating dinner with people I otherwise never would’ve gotten the opportunity to meet. Score.

So thus ends my last day here in Istanbul. Tomorrow I depart. Sadness. The skies are crying with me.