Bulgaria and crazy French women and accordions, Oh my!

The trip to Sofia was pretty uneventful, but it was thrilling to finally be off, heading to uncharted territories, boldly going where no ma--okay, where I had never gone before! With the windows open and the night breeze rushing in, we said goodbye to the Bosphorus and left the twinkling lights of Istanbul behind.

Arriving in Sofia around 11 am, Dani and I bought tickets for Thessaloniki for that evening, also a night train, I left my bag with an attendant (no lockers here!), and we set out for a walk around the town.

                                                                              Sofia

Well Sofia is a charming little city; we stopped in at a couple of old churches, as well as the odd cafe or four, before hitting up a sidewalk vendor for some GREAT(and cheap!) pizza. Then we hung out at the park for a while, before going to *blush* an internet cafe WITHOUT WHICH I wouldn't have discovered a Bulgarian friend (Minna) from Madrid was living and working in Sofia, so we arranged to meet her 20 minutes later.

Minna took us to meet some of her friends, whereupon (isn't that a great word?) we went to a pub for dinner, which meant a local sausage done in one of those long coils ("multo bene!" or whatever it is one says on this sort of occasion). After that we headed back to the train station for the night train to Greece.

With Mina and friends in Sofia, Bulgaria

Another night train, a whole other experience! Firstly, we met a crazy but lovely French girl, Anne, who maybe was not crazy so much as eccentric; a few Spaniards, one of whom was crazy enough to be traveling without a passport; and many, many Bulgarian gypsies, one in possession of an accordion and not afraid to use it! I shared a carriage with several of them for part of the time, using Turkish to communicate with one of them, who translated for the others.

Location was a very fluid concept that night, reminded me of something I read once:
"All night now the jooks clanged and clamored. Pianos living three lifetimes in one. Blues made and used right on the spot. Dancing, fighting, singing, crying, laughing, winning and losing love every hour..." -- Their Eyes Were Watching God by Zora Neale Hurston.

Well Dani spent the night in relative comfort, having paid the extra 20 Euros for a sleeper car, while I settled for the cheap, seating only carriage. Although it was a memorable evening (at one point involving dancing in the passageway with said crazy French girl while the gypsy played a tune on his accordion), it was also uncomfortable and tiring, and I was glad when it was over and we arrived in Thessaloniki at last!

Road to Europe

Stunning view of the Bosporus at sunset in Istanbul (original photo from this site)

A memorable meal at Recepusta with Ian, Bedra and Audrey

So despite my best intentions, my plans for a regular blog during my year in Turkey were obviously somewhat of a failure. Still, I had a really great time, made some wonderful new friends, learned a new language, got to watch the sun set over the Bosporus on several occasions, took part in an Iranian New Year celebration in which we jumped over traditional Zoroastrian fires, and a lot more that would take far too long to recount. It's funny how little you may think you develop or learn in a year while it's happening, and how you really have to look at it in retrospect to even get an idea. Even so, it's still hard to sum up in any concrete statement or list of truths what I learned this year about life and about myself; sometimes it feels like relatively little, but at other times I get an impression of the bigger picture and it's really astonishing to think of all the ways I've progressed (or at least changed) during the year. Even on the superficial and practical level, I now have a CELTA certificate, a year's worth of work experience, and all the benefits--both personal and professional--that a new language and exposure to a new culture and people entail.

Overlooking a surreal Capadoccian valley during a scooter tour near Nevsehir with Audrey

A picnic on the ODTU campus with Ian and some of the Ankara Couchsurfing group

As I said though, it's over: I left Turkey this last Tuesday (July 15th), to embark on a European tour before starting the next stage of my adventures on the other side of the ocean.

My plan was to get a train (using an Interrail pass I had purchased, highly recommended for those eligible; the equivalent for non-Europeans is Eurail) from Istanbul to Athens via Salonica, but when, after having checked the TCDD (Turkey's national rail company), which said there were 3 trains a day between Istanbul and Salonica, I went to the train station on the morning of the 15th, they informed me that the next train to Greece was in 3 days, on Friday! So some quick thinking and 32 Turkish Lira later, I had booked a sleeper car for Sofia, Bulgaria instead, with the plan to spend a day there and get a night train down to Athens. While booking the ticket, I met a young Spanish guy, Dani, who seemed to have had the same plan and was therefore in the same predicament. We were stuck in Istanbul for the day (the train for Sofia left at 10 pm and it was 8 am), so we decided to make the most of it.

Both of us had seen the sights before though, so making the most of it involved stopping for some coffee before heading to Sultanahment for Turk kahvalti (a traditional, full Turkish breakfast). We then wandered down to Gulhane park, where we siesta-ed under the shade of a tall tree, before moseying back to the madding crowds for some internetery and tavla-ing in a cafe overlooking a street near the Aya Sofya. It was there that I heard via a text message that some of the ex-Bilkenters were also in Istanbul, so Dani and I headed out to meet them for dinner.

After that it was back to the train station where, after a worrying 15 minutes of realising I'd lost the ticket for the locker where I'd left my bag that morning and having to get a reluctant, grumbling station director to enter his PIN code to open it for me, I boarded the train for Sofia...

6 months sonra...

Ahem! Hello again, my vast following of loyal readers! 6 months later, and I'm back to report on the various deeds and misdeeds of the last half year. I won't pretend it's been an uneventful 6 months, or that I'll even pretend to fill you in on anything, but being slightly obsessive compulsive, I have to finish what I've started, so let me summarize. Briefly.

The highlight of November was the St. Andrew's Day Ball, put on by the Ankara Caledonian Society on November 30.  The food was unfortunately nothing to write home about (including a disappointing haggis), but drinks and dancing were aplenty, which made for a convivial atmosphere and I do believe a good time was had by all.  About 25 members of the CELTA and SSI programs ended up going; all alerted to it by yours truly.

Myself and a rather skeptical looking Ananda

December was a month of contrasts. It was the best of times, it was....well anyway, 6 long months seemed to stretch ahead as we realized we'd only finished one course and had three to go. On the other hand, teaching was no longer as stressful as it had been, and we had our first significant break over Christmas. I decided to visit Izmir (formerly Smyrna) with a friend, Gloria. It was a really nice and restful week; happened to coincide with Kurban Bayram (Sacrifice Holiday, also know as guess what? That's right: Eid-al-Adha, to commemorate Abraham's sacrifice of "Ishmael" on Mount Moriah). One day we walked up to Kadifekale (literally Velvet Castle) on top of the hill, and had to side step rivulets of blood running down the cobblestone streets as people were slaughtering sheep left, right and center! Also met up with an old friend from high school (wow I sound like someone in his 50s), Murat, who was visiting family in Izmir; we sat and had tea on the waterfront in Izmir. Took a day as well to visit Bergama (formerly Pergamum), which was pretty cool.  I tried my hand at some poetry while in Izmir, inspired during a ferry trip at sunset.

Izmir ferries

Moon Over Izmir

We sat on the ferry, she and I,
And the Moon,
Magnificent, white, and full,
Hung in the purpling sky
Over Izmir.

Smog shrouded the coast as the sun set behind our backs--
It was beautiful still, but you weren't there.

As the wind whipped the sea and threatened
To carry spray over the side and into our faces,
The gulls flapped, awkward yet persistent,
Hanging in the air like the promise of tonight.

And as I thought,
"Isn't this sort of like life, always expectantly waiting
for the shore ahead or looking back to the one behind,
instead of living in the moment?"
I had to chuckle at my own philosophic pretensions.

It's tomorrow now,
And tonight never came,
And I am reminded of something a famous poet once said,
While trying hard not
To imagine how the wind would have whipped your hair,

Still the seagulls squawk expectantly,
Hanging in the air above the pier like portents.

Or like the promise of next week.

That was December. January was nothing too special, except the end of the second course, and saying goodbye to some students I'd actually grown quite fond of :) Beginning of February meant another week-long break, for which I visited Mum and Dad in Morocco--first time I'd been back in exactly 10 years. It was every bit as good as I remembered--the sounds and smells, the sights...and the food! I loved Taza (the town they live in about halfway between Fes and the Algerian border), and the people I met there. Overall a restful and enjoyable week.

Coming back meant the beginning of course three and also the CELTA course for me--the principal reason I came to Turkey for this job. CELTA stands for Certificate in English Language Teaching to Adults, and would give me a certificate that is recognized worldwide, and a requirement for a lot of TEFL jobs--handy thing to have. The CELTA lasted 8 weeks, and was extremely intensive! Each week we had a Teaching Practice in which we were observed very stringently for a lesson, which may not sound like a lot, but involved planning meticulously, deciding what objectives needed to be covered and how to cover them (if they weren't covered it would be considered a failed lesson), as well as 3 days of class input, and an assignment almost every week.

 A proud moment with the CELTA group and instructors after completing the course

 That (the CELTA) and course 3 finished mid April, which meant it was time for another week-long break. This time I traveled with Christina and Wendi to the South East of Turkey, which was incredible! We visited quite a few cities in the week, starting with a flight from Ankara to Adana, which we spent the morning and afternoon in, before getting a bus onto Antakya (aka Hattay). General consensus was that Hattay was one of (or the) best town on the trip, although my personal vote was for Mardin, which we'll get to in a moment. After a couple of nights there, we got another dolmus (small bus where you pass your money forward through the ranks of passengers to the driver and receive your change back in the same way) to Gaziantep, renowned among Turkish cities for its culinary prowess. It lived up to its name, as I had there the best Iskender Kebap (slivers of meat over bread with tomato sauce and melted butter and yogurt on top)I've had in Turkey, as well as some incredible Fistikli Baklava (Pistachio baklava).

Balik Golbasi (The Pool of Abraham) at Urfa

Then it was on to Urfa, where we visited the Pool of Abraham, where according to Muslim tradition Abraham was thrown to his death from the castle overlooking the city. The forest into which he fell turned into water, and the stones in the forest became fish, and they can still be found there today, lending the pool it's Turkish name, Balik Golbasi (Fish Lake). We managed to procure for ourselves (actually he asked if he could trail along and practice his English with us) an impromptu tour guide of 19 or 20 who went by Yusuf (although not before being surrounded by a gaggle of 9 or 10 curious youths--my posse). He took us up to the castle on top of the hill, where we were set upon by another gaggle--this time of middle--high school aged girls, who were eager to speak to us and have their picture taken with us. Then it was a theological conversation with Yusuf under the shade provided by the castle wall, before heading back down and getting a refreshing drink in a cafe that's ensconced in a cave--very touristy, but atmospheric nonetheless). Finally it was on to Mardin, my favourite town on the trip, but which because it is so late in the evening I won't go into too much detail on. Suffice to say the people were friendly, the food excellent, and the views (overlooking the hazy Syrian plains to the South as the sun set and we sipped cay on a terrace) unbeatable. Then it was back to Ankara, which was not without misadventure--our plane was cancelled, which meant a 14-hour bus trip back on my 23rd birthday.

Christina, Wendi and me with the cocuklar (children) of Adana, where we proved a big hit

And finally, to conclude, the fourth and final course has started, meaning there are 7 weeks left of teaching, before the summer "hols" start. Looking forward to it, although not to the prospect of leaving behind some wonderful friends I've made, as well as the language and country that I've just really started to appreciate. That's all for now, but watch this space, I'll be back soon...

15 k and Ucukum var, ama still no pictures!

The first half of this post's title means "I have a coldsore." It's true. I do. And it sucks. I started catching a cold when I was in Istanbul this last weekend with about 15 of the SSIs (Speaking Skills Instructors). Most of us went to run in 1 of 3 different races that were hosted there; officially known as the Intercontinental Eurasia (or Avrasya in Turkish) Marathon (Maratonu), there was a "Fun Run" of 8km, a 15 km run, and a full-blown, 42 km marathon on offer.

I ran the 15 km, which, considering the fact that I'm not a runner and have only ever run a maximum of 5 or 6 km at once before, was quite a feat! My only vaguely suitable shoes were in a terrible state of disrepair (i.e. the stitching was coming completely apart), so on Saturday, while walking around the historic Sultanahmet area of Istanbul (located on the famous Golden Horn), we stopped at a shoe-lined alley right outside the Grand Bazaar (Carsi Pazar- literally, Covered Market) and I got a pair of cheap trainers for 40 YTL (about 35 USD).

Nighttime view of Istanbul

It wasn't until we had made our way (eventually, after getting lost and taking a 3-hour detour!) back to the Big Apple Hostel where we were staying that it was pointed out to me that the shoes were in fact lacking insoles. Thankfully the person who pointed it out was a new Turkish acquaintance who just happened to have a friend in the insole business (fancy that), so he promised to procure me a pair of insoles by that evening, and true to to his word, he did!

Nonetheless, I did break in a new pair of shoes by running 15 k, which I would not advise anyone to do. Even the beginning of the race was not without mishap, though! I'd taken my backpack with me on the bus to the starting point, having been informed by the Marathon office (erroneously!) that I'd be able to leave it on the bus. This was not the case, however, so for the 15 minutes before the race, I was frantically running up and down the hill where the racers were congregating, trying to find an official who could tell me where to leave my bag. I eventually ran into a helpful group of Korean runners in the same predicament; thankfully, though, one of them not only spoke impeccable English, but impeccable Turkish (I assume her Korean wasn't too bad, either), so she was able to persuade a police guard to drive us back up to near the starting point, and when she couldn't convince them to take our bags, she valiantly volunteered to take them to Dolmabahce (the finish point) herself, effectively forgoing the race. Before she did so, though, we exchanged contact information on the inside of our bibs, otherwise I never would've been able to find her to get my bag back!

Then it was a mad rush to the start point, which turned out to be about 1 or 2 kilometres down the road, and I was already late! On the way I fell into step with a young Turkish boy who introduced himself to me as Hakan, before proceeding to jabber away unintelligibly (for me, anyway), as we jogged to the start point. Finally made it there at 9:10 or 9:15, 10 or 15 minutes after the race had started. No matter--I was off, jogging across the bridge towards the finish line and my destiny! Turns out my destiny felt a bit queasy and dehydrated 4 or 5 km later, so I walked for a while. The beginning of the race was undoubtedly the most rewarding visually, as we immediately crossed the bridge that spans from Europe to Asia, lending its name to the race, the world's only Marathon to span two continents. This was the one day of the year that the bridge was open to the pedestrianized public, and what a view it offers!

View from the Bosporus Bridge (original site here)

Anyway, the race proved quite a challenge, but not an insurmountable one, and it was 1:42 later (actually 1:30 or so, but the clock did not take into account my late start, alas!) that I crossed the finish line, my legs all a-wobble and my heart bursting with joy (not really). Definitely an experience worth repeating, although my legs have only just recovered 5 days later!

As to the delayed effects of the run, well, that brings us back to my ucuk (cold sore), brought about by my exposure to the sun during the run and the cold winds sweeping in off the Bosporus that weekend...as the Turks and Yabanciler (foreigners) alike have been telling me here, "gecmis olsun!" Get well soon!