Of Fanta Dreams and Turkish Singers

At some point during the madness that is my life in Turkey, I happened upon a sign at a bus stop.  With a Fanta logo at the top and my favorite Turkish singer, Tarkan, taking up the rest, it immediately had my undivided attention.  I was able to work out that Tarkan was coming to Izmir on July 2nd, and if I had any doubts about the validity of this information, they would soon be swept away after I got to see Fanta's ad for the concert on the television fifty billion or so times.

I love Tarkan.  I never thought I would be able to see him in concert, because he certainly isn't about to come to Kansas anytime soon.  I didn't really think I had much of a chance to see him now, either, but I had to try.  It could be my only opportunity, and I was willing to do scary things--like talking to people!--in order to go.

After speaking with my classmates, I learned that getting a ticket wasn't quite so impossible after all.  You need ten points to turn in at a grocery chain to get a ticket, and each can of Fanta had three points.  I began buying a Fanta during breaks, collecting the orange tabs that I needed.  But when I finally had four, I found that the Tansaş store near TÖMER was out of tickets and began to grow worried.  The day before the concert my host mother took me to the Tansaş near our apartment, and when they didn't have tickets either, I was completely crushed.

The day of the concert we had our excursion to Boncukköy, which was a little hard to enjoy when you're feeling disconsolate about the fact that you can't go see one of your favorite singers and your camera has mysteriously stopped working so you can't record any of your experiences.  There wasn't much at Boncukköy; we went to an artisan Evil Eye maker, who had a rather secluded workshop with a lot of shady plants and a menagerie of animals running about--including peacocks and baby peacocks!  We listened to him explain about the process of making the beads (I picked up the word "blue" and I think that's about it).  Then we watched another man make a bird, and then went into the gift shop.  There were a lot of different products with evil eyes on them, but none of them were really the type of things that I felt I really needed/wanted to have.  I ended up getting just a keychain with an evil eye bead since I needed a new one anyway, and then we left.  It didn't feel like we'd been there all that long or learned all that much, but I guess it was still an experience.

On the bus, however, something much more exciting happened.  Some other students had managed to get tickets and Hanna, who was tired, gave me his.  Hope rekindling inside of me, I texted my mother to say I could go.  She called to work out the details of how I would get home so late.  Apparently the ferry was going to be running late, and Charlotte, who either lived nearby to where the concert was held or was getting her transportation nearby, could take me to the ferry.  Then my phone promptly died, although earlier it had had three bars of battery (I was later to learn that while my phone might go a few days at full strength, as soon as it loses a single bar, it loses them all fast).

The bus dropped me and several students (Abigail, Charlotte, Chris, Kate and Melissa) off at Konak and we went to a restaurant to eat before heading to the concert.  Abigail's buddy and her older brother met us there and eventually my buddy as well, but Spencer's host mother was making him stay to eat so he told us he would meet us there.  We took a very hot bus to the concert venue, where I learned that my stress about the tickets had been completely pointless.  There were people selling tickets for five lira all around (which was probably less than the cost of my four Fantas), and Efe, who didn't have a ticket, was easily able to buy one.  We didn't go inside immediately but got some drinks and sat down to watch the ocean.  We got into the line to go in and I passed someone selling Tarkan t-shirts.  I really wanted one but thought there would be one inside the concert area (it was an outdoor concert), and since I didn't want to slow everyone up, I continued on.  My water bottles were thrown out by the staff at the entrance and we were allowed through.  Although we were a few hours early there were less people than I had expected and we were able to get sitting space (on the ground) pretty close to the front.  Spencer joined us, and it kept filling up from there.  By the time they started playing music to get the crowd pumped, we were standing crushed together and I was barely able to see over the heads of the people in front of me to see the stage. 

Opening for Tarkan was Emre Aydın, and although I had heard of him before I wasn't really familiar with his music so I'll admit that I was rather impatient for him to finish, even though he was good.  My feet were starting to hurt already (who knows why they chose that day of all days to suddenly become incredibly weak) and the heat of the crowd surrounding me was almost unbearable.  I couldn't see Emre on the stage at all so I had to rely on the two screens on the side of the stage, which really should have been placed higher because even they were hard to see.  But finally, amazingly, it happened.  Tarkan came out singing his new single "Aşk Gitti Bizden" and everyone went crazy--including the Turkish girls to my right who were jumping up and down and slamming into me repeatedly.  But it didn't matter, because TARKAN was there.

We listened to several songs but then everyone was really hot because of the body heat so we held hands and tried to make our way to the back where we could "see better" and get some air.  It was nice in theory...not so nice in fact.  I have never, ever had that much difficulty getting through a crowd before.  It was just too crowded.  Several times I was almost split off from the group and then I began to wonder if there was a end to the crowd as we got farther...and farther...and farther away from Tarkan.  Finally we made it to the drinks stand, where there was less people, but our view of the concert wasn't much better than before.  We rested up for a bit, listened to more music, but then everyone decided that they were tired and wanted to go.  Although I was also exhausted, I was disappointed because it might have been my only time to see Tarkan and I would have gladly suffered the pain to see it the whole way through.  But since I was relying on the others to see me home, I had no choice.

That was when we discovered that the ferry was not, in fact, running late, and that I would have to take a taxi.  We first tried getting on a bus, but even though we had left early, they were already extremely crowded.  We tried to get a taxi but all the taxis in the way we were walking were full.  Lucky for us, crazy taxi drivers are crazy and didn't see any problems with driving over the grass median to get to us.  I went with Chris, Charlotte, and Kate.  They were all getting off at Alsancak but I needed to get back to my house, so Charlotte called my mom so she could give directions to the taxi driver, then wrote her number down in case we needed to call her again (Spoiler Alert:  we did).  After paying the guy ten lira (forty divided by the four of us), it was just me and him.  I was incredibly nervous but hoped that with my mother's directions he would be able to find it with minimal help from me.

Turns out he couldn't. There was one point in time where I did know where we were and I gasped and he looked at me, but I assumed that he knew where he was going so I didn't tell him to pull over.  Then he took me to what looked like the middle of nowhere and asked if this was okay.  I had no idea where I was and said it wasn't.  After calling my host mother and driving around a bit, we finally found our apartment.  I kissed forty lira goodbye, showered, and collapsed, exhausted but extremely grateful for my experience.  It may not have been my best concert experience ever, what with the heat and my feet in agonizing pain and barely being able to see anything, but it was definitely an experience.

 After that, going to something as pedestrian as school felt a little weird.  It seemed like going to see Tarkan should have been the capstone of my experience, rather than something I saw only two weeks in. Nevertheless, I went to class, did homework, and that Thursday we had our next cooking class.

Cooking class, I think, is a bit of a misnomer.  It should be a "filling things" class.  This time we made mantı, which is like a Turkish ravioli with a garlic yogurt sauce. I was slightly less successful at making the mantı--we were given a thin sheet of dough and told to cut it and my squares were more rectangles, which did not make things easy--but they weren't ginormous as other people were making them, so I suppose they were passable. This time, instead of waiting the next day, we got to eat right away (as soon as they'd boiled), and it was quite good.  As for the rest of the week, the only really interesting thing that happened was turning in our documentary draft to be edited. 

The weekend, as I had come to expect, was just as exciting.  Although I had a lot of time in the morning/early afternoon to do things (such as homework and cross-stitching), Saturday night some of my host mother's friends came over and we went back to Kameraltı.  I thought we were going there to go shopping, but we went to a Köfte (Turkish meatball) place for dinner and then walked like twenty feet away from that to have some tea. By the time we were finished, although it was still early, a lot of the shops were closed.

We then walked to the Konak Pier, where more shops, as well as some really pretty cafes that are right on the water, are located.  I saw my first movie theater in Turkey, and we wandered about looking at the shops.  I spent some quality time inside a bookshop, but I would have loved to have spent more.  We excited the pier and went to some more outdoor cafes that were right next to it.  We got a lovely seat right by the water, and everyone but me got a beer.  I got a Coke.  But we had a nice time just chatting and laughing, and even though I didn't know a lot of what was said, I felt completely at home and included. All in all, it was a very nice night.

The next day was much like the one before it, only instead of Kameraltı, my host mother, host sister, and one of my host mother's friends took a bus to Kipa.  It was a giant mall with a lot of stores in it and it was really, really cool. We went to a clothing store first--which wasn't as cool--although it did have some stuff I liked.  I think my host mother wanted me to get a dress for the party at the end of the program, but I wasn't sure of my size and I didn't really feel comfortable changing with them so I didn't try anything on.  After that my host mother's friend left and Füme and I went to an electronic store to look for headphones (mine had just broken; technology hates me in Turkey, apparently), and to look at cameras since mine still wasn't working. I got headphones but didn't buy a camera since the cheapest was about 200 liras and not all that great. We went to some other stores, including one which had some really cool stuff, including a glass ax with Ottoman calligraphy on it. Oh, how I wanted it. But sadly, it was not to be. 

We waited for the bus to take us home, and that was that. I was left with only wishful thinking about that beautiful, beautiful ax :c

 

Once More Unto the Breach

After the third horrific day, things got better.  I wasn't understanding things in class better--to this point I still only barely know what's going on at any given time--but I accepted the fact that I wasn't going to understand anything, and that made it easier to stomach.  Basically we start off with all the conjugations of whatever suffix or whatever we're working on, and that's pretty easy because I just have to copy it down.  Then she gives us example sentences to try and explain to us the different meanings it might have.  This is where things get hard--normally I'll understand at least one (the main) meaning of the suffix.  But then she might put up the same exact sentence, with a slightly different conjugation of the verb...sometimes a difference of only one letter.  Then she tries to explain the nuances of meaning to us in Turkish.

That's where the whole process, for me, breaks down.  Her explanations just don't get through to me.  Whether the grammar is too advanced or she just spits out a bunch of vocabulary words I don't know, I just can't get the subtle differences that she's trying to express.  My only hope now seems to be when she leaves the room on one of our three breaks, when I can turn to the other students and ask if they, at least, understand.  Usually they have understand better than I have, but it's still not enough to completely turn on the light.  Basically I can now hear the suffixes when people use them and thus generally get the gist of what they're trying to express, but I feel far from comfortable at actually using them in conversation myself.  It's also very frustrating when I can't even word my question properly to get her to explain what I want.

But I digress.  Truly this is an improvement. 

 I survived the week, obviously, and on Saturday we had our trip to Seferihisar.  I got to sleep in a whole hour before heading to TÖMER, where we met our buddies and were loaded onto a bus.  It was a very long, mostly uneventful ride, but at least there was pretty scenery to look at.  We finally arrived at the beach and set our stuff down, and I was excited to go swimming for the first time in Turkey.  The "sandy beach," however, as I soon discovered, was anything but.  There was no sand in sight, but rocks of various sizes that I had to step on in order to get to the water.  Once there, my troubles were not over.  The water was cold, but I couldn't ease my way in because of even more rocks underfoot.  My only option was to fall forward so the water could support me as I crawl into the deeper area and away from the rocks. 

Once there, the experience was considerably more enjoyable.  After a bit of swimming we had lunch, did some more swimming, and then did some exploring on the rocks nearby.  After even more swimming, however, I began to feel that we had been there quite long enough, thank you, and that it was time to go home.  But, as I soon found out, we still had several more hours there.  I swam in the pool for a bit, but I was starting to burn and tired of the water.  I spend the rest of my time watching other people play Backgammon.  Game and game after Backgammon.  I don't know how Backgammon is played, and even after someone started to explain it I still don't, so this part was a bit uninteresting for me.  But finally we left, thus ending my first cultural excursion.

Sunday was a rather quiet day.  I mostly did homework or studied Turkish, as well as watching Coriolanus with my host family.  I think that they actually understood the film better than I did even though it was in English, because they had subtitles for the Shakespearean dialogue and I didn't.  I enjoyed it, although I don't think my host mother did, and it was interesting to see Lord Voldemort with a nose.

And so, my first week in Turkey ended enjoyably but uneventfully.  Classes the next week were much the same, less distressing but no less confusing.  Monday was my host brother's birthday, and on Tuesday after class we met up with our language buddies and went to a museum, Agora, and Kemeraltı, a bazaar.  The museum we went through rather quickly.  It was mostly filled with different textiles, mostly from the Ottoman period but some dating much earlier, but there were some other things like swords to look at.  Agora is some Greek ruins that, at first glance, doesn't look particularly impressive.  There are a couple of columns standing and a bunch of other pieces arranged on the ground.  Once you actually walk around, however, you can see a bunch of passageways that are below the ground level.  Walking around under the arches there was actually rather fun, and a lot cooler than walking around in the sun.  We also met some very friendly kitties, and that was nice, as well.

Next we went to Kemeraltı, which was probably the most interesting.  It was my first experience going to a real Turkish bazaar, and it did not disappoint.  So far there had been nothing in Turkey that I really wanted to buy, but looking around at the bazaar, I wanted to buy everything.  As well as trinkets for souvenirs, spices, and the like, there were also a bunch of dress stores with dresses I really liked, as well as store after store filled with intricate "circumcision outfits."  I felt slightly bad for any children I might have in the future, because I really wanted one.  For those that don't know, in Turkey (although not so much now), boys get circumsized around the age of eight.  They get dressed up in these sultan outfits and paraded around before. . . yeah . . . the actual circumcision.  And although I'm glad I'm not an eight-year-old Turkish boy, that didn't make the outfits any less cute.

After walking around for a good bit, we sat down in a cafe.  I got water, but most of the others got coffee and, when they were finished, had fun telling each others' fortunes.  They also brought out little plates with tiny cubes of Turkish Delight, which was my first experience with it in Turkey.  Although I hadn't been a huge fan of it while in America, I did like the "authentic" lokum that I tried.  Once more I felt like we were there for a bit long for my tastes, because when you can't really contribute to the conversations going on around you very well, it gets a bit boring.  But eventually we did leave, and that was pretty much that. 

The next event of note came on Thursday, when we had our excursion to Çeşme.  Once more we were loaded onto a bus, driven far away, and let out with no word on what the plan was.  We walked around a little town for a bit, and I thought we were walking to the beach from there.  It was definitely constructed for tourists--all the buildings were cute and white and there were souvenir shops and cafes lining the streets.  But there were beautiful flowers everywhere and it was rather charming for a place that you knew was merely touristy. 

To my surprise, we walked back the way we came and got onto the bus once more.  This time we were driven to Çeşme Castle, which was quite cool.  We walked around the castle for a bit, enjoying the view, and looking at the exhibit covering the Battle of Çeşme during the 1768 Russo-Turkish War.  It was interesting, but they hurried us out before we'd even had a chance to go to the very top of the castle, which was disappointing.  We couldn't have been there for more than half an hour.  Once more on a bus, we were driven to a beach.  We got out and brought our stuff to some chairs, which Spencer was able to haggle the attendant down into letting us use for three liras.

Although not as scenic, this beach was more fun for me.  The water was warmer, and although there were rocks in the shallows, there weren't as many and you could soon walk past them.  We stayed there for a while, talking and enjoying the water, before heading home.  The next day we had our "Documentary Subject Selection" for the documentary we're going to be making, and since I'd enjoyed the trip, I picked Çeşme as my subject.

That weekend was different and rather exciting.  My host mother decided to take me to her mother's apartment by the beach. I packed my stuff into my bag and we got onto the Metro, and from there to a bus. I'm not sure exactly where her mother's house is; just that it was a rather long drive. But we made it and I was introduced to her mother and her older sister, who were both very nice and welcoming. We had a very large Turkish meal that night, then sat around and talked. Her mother's house didn't have any air conditioning or Wifi, or even a fan in my room, but somehow I was able to survive the heat.  What I was not excited to encounter, which I had not seen in Izmir during my entire stay, were mosquitoes. And boy, did they love me. I counted fourteen bug bites on my right foot alone, and they were barely biting any of the Turks!  They attributed it to my sweetness, but I think that the bugs were just racist against Americans.

I turned in early and got up late, trying to make up for getting up early all those mornings for class. We had a very large and delicious Turkish breakfast (my favorite being simply fried dough, which I drizzled honey over), then got dressed into our swimsuits and went to the beach. We brought our stuff to a cafe and I was finally able to get Wifi, so I frantically checked my email before we went swimming.  This beach, although crowded, was by far the best--there was a beautiful view of the mountains, warm water, and absolutely no rocks. I loved it.

We headed back after a few hours for a shower, another large Turkish dinner, and hanging around. I accompanied my host mother to a pazar, and watched in horror as she bought vegetable after vegetable that she would be sure to feed me later. After our little shopping trip we watched The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly--thankfully in English, with Turkish subtitles.  What I did find hilarious, however, was the fact that they blocked out all the cigarettes with a little cartoon flower. Now, I can understand shielding children by blurring out blood. It's not every day that I walk down the street and see someone with a gaping stab wound.  But to have Tuco being brutally beaten and bloody and to censor out the cigarette instead of the violence, while everyone in Turkey smokes, struck me as very amusing. Turkish children have certainly seen cigarettes, and I'm pretty sure that Turkish babies might be born with a cigarette dangling from their lips, but apparently they must be shielded from them on the television.  After the movie, I worked on a blog post and went to bed.

The next morning I awoke to find that our group had expanded with several of my host family's cousins, an uncle (I think), and an adorable second cousin, Nehir. After the beach we headed home, where I discovered that the Wifi, which I had missed dearly, wasn't working. Heartbroken, I went to bed, mentally preparing myself for another week of strenuous classes, a ton of homework, and more social life than I had experienced in the past year in Kansas. 

An Inauspicious Beginning

I have never, ever had problems with jet lag.  My dad's "Make them walk until they drop" strategy has always proved annoyingly effective, and I was sure that my staying up late the night before would be just as effective.  So when I woke up before my alarm went off and checked my phone to see what time it was, I was not expecting it to be 5:30 A.M.  I was also not expecting to be wide-awake.  I had no idea why my body decided to wake me up at this ungodly hour after how little sleep it had been running on.  Although it was warm in my room, as always, it wasn't unbearable and I wasn't even feeling uncomfortable from the heat.  I was just awake.

I tried to check my phone to see if I could at least check email or FaceBook or be very slightly productive while I was so awake and sleep seemed impossible, but it was then that I discovered that the Wifi only worked while their computer was on.  I officially had nothing to do with myself.  The one bright spot in all this was that I discovered that my phone was still on D.C. time and therefore I had set my alarm wrong.  Setting it to "midnight" (which was 7 A.M. in Turkey), I lay back down and tried to sleep, but my body refused to cooperate. . .until about fifteen minutes before I had set my alarm to wake me up.  Then I suddenly grew exhausted, and when my alarm did go off, I set a new one for fifteen minutes later to try and get some sleep. 

With my host mother knocking at my door, I couldn't put off getting up any longer.  After bidding her good morning, I got dressed and made my way to the kitchen when she said that breakfast was ready.  Breakfast was toast with a large assortment of spreads--butter, Nutella, jelly, and honey.  There were also olives and cheese, which I originally thought were large pats of butter and tried to spread all over my bread.  To drink, I had whole milk.  It was all very good, and with the way she kept giving me slices of bread, more than I was used to eating so early in the morning.  At 8:55 we set off to take me to my first day of school.  I assumed that we were going by bus again and was confused when she began taking me a different way.  That was not good.  My brain cannot handle remembering more than one way to a destination, particularly when the first way is less than firmly set inside.  But I didn't complain and followed after her, trying desperately to remember my surroundings.  To my surprise, she led me (after about fifteen minutes of power-walking) to the ferry.  It seemed that my first idea of taking the ferry to school every day was correct.  She bought me a "Kent Kard," a card that I could use to ride the ferry, Metro, or bus.  I had slight difficulty trying to get through the barrier until she showed me that I just had to lay it down and not swipe it against anything, but after that we were through and on the ferry.  The view from the ferry is absolutely breathtaking--you can see the entire city sprawled out around you, the buildings nestled at the bases of what are either mountains or very large hills.  In the morning, the ferry goes first to Pasaport, then Alsancak, so the entire ride probably lasted between twenty and thirty minutes. We disembarked at Alsancak, and my host mother led me to the TÖMER Institute, where we arrived with several minutes to spare.  I was dropped off in the cafeteria and left to wait with the other students.  Eventually we were split into groups to take our placement exam.  I was sent to the seventh, and highest, floor.

TÖMER has twelve levels of language placement.  The written exam had twelve questions for each level, and you had to answer eight out of the ten correctly to be placed out of the level.  Then there was also a composition that you had to write on the back, with a topic for beginner, intermediate, and advanced student.  When even the beginner question had words I didn't know, I knew this was going to be fun.   However, when I first started the test, I thought I was doing pretty well.  I knew what endings were necessary and was blazing through them...until I got to about question thirty.  That's when I started to get fuzzy on the questions.  By question forty I was starting to skip a bunch of the questions and make "educated guesses" on the others.  By question sixty, I gave up answering at all and moved onto the composition.  I knew it said something about my family, so I ran with that and described my family as best as I could.  I saw the other students were still working on the test and I didn't want to go downstairs by myself to take the oral exam, so I continued to add things to my composition.  Eventually the two hours we had to take the test were up, and we headed downstairs.  I, as usual, was the last person called to take the oral exam.  I entered a room where all the teachers were sitting, my test in front of them as they graded it.  Reassuring.  One of the teachers--a male--began, asking me about my last name.  Of course.  My father's family came from Hungary, and although it's been Anglicized, it still is apparently impossible for Americans to pronounce.  The Turks actually seem to be a bit better at pronouncing it--the Gs are correct, at least, although they like to draw the Es out a bit.  But even though my father's family is Hungarian, the Hungarians we've asked have all said that it isn't a Hungarian name.  As is, it's apparently a Lebanese one or Coptic Egyptian, and the original form is close to some Polish names.  (editor’s note: The original name was spelled Garges, and is a Hungarian name).

Now, I don't know how to say all of that in Turkish.  Instead, I just said that my dad was Hungarian.  This, of course, led to several other questions--was I born in Hungary, had I been to Hungary, did I speak Hungarian?  No, no, no.  It wasn't what I had been expecting entering that room and it kind of threw me off and made me feel incredibly awkward.  Finally one of the female teachers took over, but the session didn't get any better because I couldn't understand anything she was asking.  Luckily she only asked a few questions (I was in there for a grand total of five minutes, if that), before I was allowed to leave, hoping that at least my composition had saved me. 

After a boring, mandatory safety lecture, we had lunch--stuffed eggplant.  My favorite (insert sarcasm here).  I knew that somewhere in Kansas my parents had to have been laughing, for this to have been my very first lunch in Turkey.  Perhaps they had even written my school and asked for it specifically.  That aside, it wasn't that bad.  I ate a few bites of it to show that I had, at least, hoping that I could pass off not finishing it as simply not being hungry.  Not that they would have cared--the guy next to me didn't touch it, which made me feel better.  I also had noticed last night at dinner that I seemed to be better at eating vegetables than my host brother.  I was feeling pretty proud of myself.  The rice they served with the eggplant was better than the eggplant itself, because Turks like to mix their rice with lots of butter.  As I am a fan of butter, I see no problem with this.  There was also bread to go with the meal (along with every other meal in Turkey), and what I called "tzetziki soup" because that's basically what it was.  After lunch we were served a bowl of fruits, and then herded downstairs to be given the "Earthquake and Fire Safety" talk. 

I was, at this point, absolutely exhausted and struggling to keep my eyes open.  It had already been a long day, I had had very little sleep, and boring lectures about safety were not helping.  After receiving my very own smoke alarm and earthquake bag, and swearing not to speak English for the duration of our stay, we were told that we were going to be meeting our language buddies. . .and go on a scavenger hunt.  For the first day, when we were all jet-lagged and had just had a ton of information thrown at us, I thought this was a bit much.  I just wanted to go home and go to sleep. But, since there was nothing I could do about it, I tried my best to rouse myself and prepare myself for the awkwardness that was to come.  We'd been given a sheet of paper with the names of our buddies, so I already knew that mine was named Efe.  And from the other students, I knew that that was a boy's name.  What I didn't know until we were introduced to our buddies was that I was the only girl with a male language partner.  When my name was called, I went over to meet him, trying not to stumble over anyone's chair or bag, shook his hand and introduced himself.  Then we sat down together and I tried to look as interested in the proceedings as possible to stave off any attempts at conversation.  We were given instructions in Turkish (which I of course didn't understand, but I assumed that our objective was to "find things") and paired up with another American and their language partner.  We were paired with a student named Spencer and his buddy Gökhan, and then off we went. 

What followed was a lot chasing after Efe and Gökhan while not really knowing where I was or what we were looking for, and the occasional awkward attempt at small talk.  We had been given a small slip of paper with what we needed on it, and it appeared that our buddies were determined to win.  We chased after them as they went to a store and got band-aids, went a couple of other places where we just grabbed a slip of paper, and then started just taking pictures of us at different places with Efe's cell phone.  I thought that we had done pretty good time, but we still found that we'd been beaten by another buddy who had apparently run the entire time.  Despite not winning, we still got ice cream, so everything ended well.  Except for the fact that it hadn't ended...we'd finished the scavenger hunt an hour before our host families were supposed to arrive to pick us up, so now we had nothing to do except talk.  And talking was hard and awkward and I was exhausted.

One of the buddies ended up leading us to a cafe, where we all sat around and talked.  I didn't get a drink and didn't do much in the way of talking, because at that point I was just trying to stay awake...and mostly failing.  We exchanged phone numbers and email addresses before eventually going back, where my host mother was waiting for me.  A mostly uneventful night passed, and I went to bed.

The first day of class was not much better than the first day of orientation.  I was placed in level "Temel Üç," or Advanced Beginner.  I and five other students were sent to the top floor once more, where we met our teacher, Esra.  She seemed very nice--very fashionably dressed and personable, trying to get us all to participate.  But that didn't stop the fact that the class was being taught in Turkish, that I know very little Turkish, and I didn't understand what was going on.  Even when I stopped her and tried to get her to explain something differently, either I couldn't get my questions across in a way that she was answering the right question, or if she was answering the right question, I just didn't understand the explanation.  It was a very difficult way to learn and I felt that I was the dumbest one in the class, who even if they didn't understand anything, at least acted like they did.  Thoroughly discouraged, I went home with my host mother straight after class.  Luckily, spending time with her was much better than spending time in class.  She took me down a different street than usual and showed me where I could exchange my dollars for Turkish lira, so I finally had money, which was one stress gone.  She then bought me a little trinket to go with my keys before showing me how to put more money on my Kent Kard, which was something else that had been worrying me. 

That day also happened to be my host sister's birthday, so later on I went out with her.  We met up with two of her friends, whose names I promptly forgot, then took a taxi to a different neighborhood and went to a restaurant.  They kept trying to give me an English menu, but with thinks like "Meksiken wrap" on the menu, I told them that I didn't need it.  I ended up just asking for whatever they got anyway, which turned out to be chicken fingers and fries.  The food was alright, but nothing special.  I had a Coke, but it was soon gone, while we stayed a considerably longer time.  Two more of her friends arrived, one of whom spoke some English and was eager to practice it with me.  We worked out that he would speak English and I would answer with Turkish, and being able to talk to at least one person made the evening a bit easier on me. 

This was, however, the first time that I was faced with a cultural difference that really shocked me.  At one point during the evening, he leaned over and asked me if there were any "[n word]s" in Kansas.  I had read in one of the cultural packets that the word didn't have the same connotations as in the US, but hearing it spoken, and so casually, still made my jaw drop.  After recovering my ability to talk, I said that there were.  He proceeded to say that he "loved [n word]s" and got out his phone to show me a picture of Snoop Dog and T-Pack, who were his "favorite singers."  I then proceeded to try to explain to him that he should never, ever say that word in America.  Although I thought that what I said made sense, I'm not quite sure that I was able to effectively communicate my point. 

Arda and one of his friends arrived, we ate some really delicious cake, talked for an extremely long time (I was on the verge of falling asleep again), and finally left.  But, of course, the night was not over.  We had guests over to celebrate Füme's birthday, and once again I went to bed late. 

After my not-so-great first day of classes, I spent the next morning trying to mentally pump myself up.  Living in another country for two months was going to be hard enough without dreading going to class each day.  The mental prep-talk was somewhat effective--classes were much easier, but that's because they were shortened because we had another safety briefing to go to.  Pretty much all we did was talk about what we had done the previous day before we were loaded onto a bus and taken to an economics university.  We were led to a very nice conference room, where we had a video chat with some officials in Ankara about safety in the event of terrorist attacks and the like.  We actually weren't given all that much information--the man went very briefly through a slideshow that had not been made for us, skipping a lot of things along the way--and the whole thing kind of felt like a waste of time, especially when we were immediately reloaded onto the bus after a not-very-long time. 

Despite the okay second day, the third day was absolutely horrific.  Once more I couldn't understand, once more she couldn't explain, and I just got more and more frustrated.  My brain, when confused, shuts down and refuses to take in any more information.  If more information is forced upon it when it's in "lock-down mode," the next step is to cry.  Not moving on and continuing to try and press the point and force me to understand the issue is a sure-fire way to ensure the tears do come. 

It was not a good day.  Not only were classes hard but I felt very isolated.  The other students, while nice, were almost all older than me and more experienced.  Many had been to Turkey before or spoke other languages; some were even alumni of the CLS program.  I basically floated between groups, with no people that I really gravitated towards.  Even when I could sneak some English, I didn't speak any because I didn't really have anyone to talk to.  I was very depressed, but once more my host family, which had been my greatest fear, was my only source of solace.  Despite hardly being able to talk to them, I enjoyed the time we spent together.  My host mother took me on a very long walk by the waterfront and gave me my first taste of real Turkish dondurma (ice cream), which was delicious.  I thought that screwing up twice in class might be a bit much to fix, but I thought that since I heard we were switching teachers in a month and since I had my awesome host family, that I just might be able to make it. 

...and Into the Fire. . .

Me being me, I didn't sleep at Munich Airport. But not for lack of trying--I curled up across two seats with my backpack as a pillow, but only managed to lie there and feel rather awkward. Just when I was starting to get comfortable and there was the possibility of me perhaps falling asleep, the once-quiet airport turned annoying as a bunch of very loud people entered. Since most of the other CLS students were either getting back from wandering around or waking up from their naps, I decided to give it up. Besides having our gate changed, there's really nothing else to say about that rather uneventful layover.

We then got on the plane to fly to Turkey. I had two carry-on bags but they made me check one in since the plane was full. I got to my seat (a window, thankfully) and found a woman with a baby sitting in the aisle seat (sarcastic joy) and one of my fellow CLS participants sitting in the seat next to me (actual joy). That joy evaporated, however, when the woman asked her to move so she and her husband could sit together. Then for reasons that still escape me, she moved from the aisle seat to the seat next to me. With her baby. With her unhappy baby. The entire time my brain was just screaming "NO! NO! NO! I'VE HEARD THE HORROR STORIES! KEEP THAT BABY AWAY FROM ME!"

Sadly, this woman couldn't hear my inner monologue screaming at her. The baby stayed. And even smacked me with its arms a bit.

To be honest, the baby wasn't that bad. It didn't cry the entire time (although it did cry several times), and it had a pacifier in its mouth so it wasn't that loud. But it was still annoying and it would have been nicer to have had the flight without it. I was also running without sleep for several hours at this point, so that probably didn't help the situation.

Baby or no baby, it was time to get down to brass tacks. I had brought along several books on Turkey and was debating whether to start with my book on Turkish culture or some of my Turkish phrase books. I ended up going with the culture one because I figured that while I probably wouldn't be doing a heck of a lot of talking whilst in Turkey, I could still do a lot of offending. During the entire flight I made it through almost the entire book as I chilled and listened to music. The flight itself (besides the baby) was nice, and I got to see actual mountains. Like, real, craggy mountains with snow on them and everything. Not like the Smoky Mountains, which are the only mountains that I've seen in. . . .ever.

I like mountains. Can you tell?

Anywho, the food was also probably the best I've eaten on a plane. We got a crusty roll, tortellini, a bar of real German chocolate and a little water bottle. I was surprised that we were getting an actual meal, since the flight was only about two and a half hours, but I certainly wasn't going to complain. Normally I'm not a fan of milk chocolate (I need something to go along with it, like peanut butter or nuts or anything), but when it's actual quality chocolate, I found I didn't mind it at all. 

On to actually important details of my story, we landed in Turkey. This was it. We exited the plane and I noticed several bags sitting right outside where the plane was attached. I assumed these were the bags that had been forcibly checked, so I waited for mine.

It didn't show.

Trying to quell my panic of not having one of my bags and my group having left without me, I stood there and looked pitiful until one of the ladies told me my back was probably at "passport control." I wasn't sure if she knew mine was one of the newly checked-in bags but I didn't want to fall any further behind but I left, stress levels quickly rising as my lack of sleep sapped my ability to handle minor problems-that-might-not-actually be problems. Luckily, I found my group by the bathrooms, reducing my stress level by perhaps one iota. I went into the bathroom and was faced with my next big challenge:  Turkish toilets.

 

Coming off of a plane running on little sleep and stressing out about whether you'll be able to get your bag or not is not the best time to try new things. The Turkish toilet is no exception. For those of you who don't know, the Turkish toilet is a hole in the ground. That's about it. You squat over it, do your business, and there are some cup-like things on the side that I guess you help wash it down with, although I had no idea where you got the water unless you left the toilet and went back. Now I have experience with camping. I've had to squat in the wilderness while fearing I was about to be eaten by coyotes many a time. And yet I still think I would take squatting in the wilderness a thousand times over the Turkish Toilet. I don't care how many times one of the girls in my group said that it was "more sanitary" and "better for you because it helps the flow without making unnatural pressure points." I still don't like them. You squat over this tiny hole, trying to figure out how to get your pants out of the way, not wanting to squat too low in case you'll fall in, and, even better, the floor is damp with what you hope is water and not urine. To top things off, the door opened in instead of out so you had to try to carefully maneuver yourself so you don't step right back into it.

I was displeased. And I was even more displeased when I exited the bathroom and found that my group was gone--again. We had left behind members a few times before, assuming that they would catch up or that we would find them later. I knew, that should this happen to me, I would flip out and do what I was always told to do when you're lost, namely stay right where you are. Even if you could perhaps figure out where the others had gone to. I had said as much several times in an attempt to make sure this wouldn't happen to me--but apparently "Don't leave me behind; I wouldn't know what to do" isn't a strong enough hint.

This was slightly me being uncharitable because I was tired and because I had just been traumatized by the Turkish toilet, but I was a very unhappy camper. I went over to the line where they checked your Visas and I found my group, but I got to stand in the back all by myself while they went through. And once they went through, I couldn't see where they'd gone, so I got to freak out about my bag, about being alone, about being left behind, and about the possibility of my host family having a Turkish toilet, because even though CLS had said we were guaranteed a Western toilet I had heard some CLS people say that that wasn't always true.

I was the last person through, and the man, seeing that I was studying Turkish from my Visa, decided to ask some questions. It was not the right time. The questions actually weren't hard and I had seen him smile at some little kids so he seemed nice, but it was still another bit of stress added on top of everything else. I actually understood everything he said--and was angry at him when he translated "zor" as "difficult" before I had the chance to answer because I KNEW WHAT THAT MEANT, THANK YOU--so it actually didn't go too badly. And once I got to the other side, I saw my group waiting for me with my possibly-lost-bag-that-hadn't-actually-been-lost. Things were starting to look up, although my mood was lagging behind my actual situation and I didn't feel all that much happier. We met with our resident director, Dayla, and took pictures before we were loaded onto a bus and taken to Tömer to meet with our host families. It was hard to keep my eyes open during the ride, even though I was seeing Turkey for the first time. The buildings were a little dirty looking, but the natural scenery surrounding Izmir was absolutely breathtaking. The elevation was so different from Kansas, with buildings practically stacked on top of each other. The occasional minaret and mosque rising from the midst of the rest of the buildings were quite impressive.

We were taken to the waterfront, where the bus driver decided to try to take us through some very narrow streets. It was quite nerve-wracking, but somehow we made it to the Tömer Institute. For some reason, when I had pictured Tömer in my head, I had pictured something close to one of my college's buildings: big and new and air-conditioned. It wasn't. It was tucked into one of the buildings, and, while it does have a few air-conditioning units, was nothing close to being cool, especially in the cafeteria, where we were taken. I'm not quite sure why I had imagined Tömer so incredibly wrong, since I had seen the American Institute in Paris and it was similarly tucked into the side of a building like Tömer. 

The families were waiting for us there, but they didn't have signs with our names on them or anything so we pretty much just milled about awkwardly while we waited for someone to tell us what to do. Luckily we were given water, because I was having my first taste of the thirst that I've been perpetually plagued with in Turkey. 

I thought I heard someone saying my name and pointing at me, so I assumed that the man, woman, and small child with them was my family since I knew my family was comprised of three people. But when Dayla called my name, it was another woman and a girl who looked roughly my age who came and greeted me. I was surprised, but tried to hide it as our picture was taken. That should have been it, and, like the rest of the people who had met their families, we should have been able to go home. But I was the only one who hadn't received a cell phone, so we had to wait until Özge could find me one. I was, in continuation of the trend, the very last person to leave. 

Finally a cell phone was provided, although not a charger and I set out with my new family. My host mother (who I still wasn't sure how to address) is named Nurhan, and her twenty-three-year-old daughter is Füme. They both were very modern looking (in fact, Füme was dressed more stylishly than I could probably ever hope to be), so I was at once relieved and terrified that I was going to look like a country bumpkin. We went to a bus stop and waited. And waited. I was too shy to talk, but luckily a man came up who my host mother knew (I think), and they started talking. She pointed at Füme and said she was her daughter, and then she pointed at me and said that I was her "yeni kızım"--her new daughter. That made me feel better.

Finally, the bus arrived and we got on, the man helping me with my bag despite my pathetic attempts to protest. My host mother, after watching me crane my neck to try and take in as much scenery as possible, had me switch seats with her. We got off the train and walked a good distance to their apartment. After a short ride in a very cramped elevator, I set foot inside my new home. I was relieved to see the air conditioning unit, although I soon learned that it would not be on 24/7, as I was used to. I was also happy to discover that they had pets--a bird named Maviş (so named, I assume, because he's blue and the Turkish word for blue is "mavi") and two fish. 

 They left me alone as I put my clothes away and I got settled into my new room, and I was grateful for the chance to collect my thoughts. Next, we had dinner on their balcony. Dinner was some sort of dish with green beans, and I'm proud to say that I ate them all. Nothing else incredibly important happened that day. I mostly just sat in the living room with them and watched TV (Turkish Survivor). I ended up not going to bed until 11 o' clock, despite how long it had been since I had slept. God bless my family for providing me with a fan, for I doubt I would have gotten much sleep if they hadn't. Even in the evening, it was still very hot and I was getting almost no breeze through my room. When I checked the weather for Izmir in Kansas, I was seeing things like the highs being in the 90s and the lows in the 60s. We assumed that this meant that the temperature would drop dramatically in the evening and that I would probably would have to wear a jacket. And although it does get very slightly cooler in the evenings, it is still incredibly hot inside the house and I haven't touched my jacket since I hung it on the back of my chair.

 
And thus ended my first day in Türkiye Cumhuriyeti.

Out of the Frying Pan...

It is Saturday, June 16, at 10:42 P.M. Kansas time.  I am on a plane headed for Munich and from there to Turkey.  You had best grab a bowl of popcorn and make yourself comfortable, because this is going to be a very, very long blog post.

My adventure began on Wednesday.  I can give Wednesday for certain as a starting point because up until that day I had done little to no preparation for my two month stay in Turkey.  Procrastination at its finest, ladies and gentlemen.  Wednesday was a flurry of activity, and sadly mostly a flurry of one of my least favorite activities--shopping.  I began my day by trying on literally every article of clothing I possessed in my closet.  It was horrific and I am unsure of how I survived.  I am convinced that this was, without a doubt, the hardest part of my entire journey. 

However, even once my mom had utterly exhausted the clothing options in our house, my ordeal was not over. I was taken "shopping" because even though I had tried on every piece of clothing I had owned, which had been able to sustain me for an entire year at college, I was apparently woefully unprepared to spend two months in Türkiye Cumhuriyeti.  I needed another pair of jeans and a pair of black shorts and even perhaps a dress, I was told.  And then, once we were at the store, a blouse was added to the list of "things I need"without my knowledge. 

Never before have simple items such as a pair of jeans and black shorts been so hard to find.  We went to several stores, and I was forced to try on even more clothes, but either the clothes looked weird on me or didn't fit.  My small amount of tolerance for trying on clothes and shopping had already been taxed far beyond its limits by the events of the morning, and I was convinced that I would drop dead before we ever made it out of the store.  Somehow, however, we managed to make it out with a new pair of jeans and shorts--but without the dress and blouse.  A partial, hollow victory in the face of the mental anguish I had endured.

We then proceeded back to our home, where the next part of my day was considerably more pleasant.  My dad had made one of my favorite meals, which I have no name for except "red curry wraps."  They are very good and go excellently with dok bok gi, which my dad also made for me.  I was pleased.

I was less pleased when I came to the realization that although I now had all the clothes I needed, they would not magically put themselves into my suitcase.  It was late at night, and I hadn't even begun packing for the  greatest journey I had yet to face.  Luckily for me, I was in the company of Super Mom, so while I stayed out of her way and cleaned my fish bowl (along with writing instructions on how to care for my fish, Ares--DAD IF YOU'RE READING THIS MAKE SURE YOU'VE FED HIM AND TOLD HIM MOMMY LOVES HIM--), she single-handedly packed my suitcase.  After a 1 A.M shower, I then came in and got to pack my "fun case," my bag holding all the goodies to occupy myself on the plane.  And boy, did I pack it.  While watching Thor in the background (I had to see Tom Hiddleston one last time to hopefully stave off the withdrawal that is sure to afflict me), I packed my Nintendo DS, my tablet, Crow, Abraham Lincoln:Vampire Hunter as well as several books on Turkey, my drawing notebook, and, my personal favorite, a coloring book with pretty geometric designs. I then spent several minutes sharpening color pencils to go along with said coloring book, set up my blog, and bid fond farewells to the Internet and my beloved computer.  There might have been tears.  The time now 3:30 A.M., I collapsed into bed, not looking forward to being woken up in one and a half hours.

Moving like a zombie,  I was taken to the airport by my family.  I ate breakfast, and after making my way to my gate was subjected to being stared at like an animal by my family (mostly my mother) from behind the glass.  I also was forced to look like an idiot as I  giggled at the silly texts they were sending me.  My mom learned how to use emoticons.  I was very proud.

The plane ride to D.C. was remarkable in the fact that it was the single most uncomfortable flight I have ever experienced.  It was very small and cramped, only three seats wide.  I was lucky that I had a window seat to myself, and running off of one and a half hours of sleep, all that I wanted to do was take a nap. Normally I never sleep on methods of transportation--mostly because I'm afraid that I'll snore or drool on myself or something equally embarrassing, and partially because I've watched too many movies and I'm still waiting for the time when I magically find myself sitting next to some insanely attractive single guy and we hit it off immediately.  That didn't happen--and neither did my nap.  The one time I try to sleep on an airplane and my legs were cramped and my butt was hurting because I think the seat cushion was stuffed with rocks and shards of glass.  The lengths people go  to to cut down costs these days.

I arrived in D.C. safely and set about trying to locate my bags.  I followed the signs, this time not making the mistake of attempting to walk all the way to baggage as I had in the Atlanta airport.  That had been a very, very bad mistake.  I felt slightly better about myself when I heard the people behind me loudly discussing the proper way to the baggage claim, and astutely chose not to slow down and follow them there, instead opting to follow a man in front of me who actually looked like he knew what he was doing.

I picked up my bags without incident and found a "Super Shuttle"sign (or was it Speed Shuttle?), following it to a desk and buying myself a ticket to the L'Enfant Plaza Hotel.  A few minutes later I was told to go outside and take a left, which I did and got onto a Super Shuttle.  A smartly-dressed young man sat in front of me, and what I thought was a couple speaking a foreign tongue got in behind me.  Most of the long ride to the hotel was spent trying to decipher what language they were speaking.  I was able to rule out English, German, Turkish, Japanese, Russian, and Latin, but that still left me with quite a bit to work with.  I knew they weren't speaking French the entire time, but I think they were even switching languages because occasionally I would hear a sentence of French before going back to "mystery tongue."  I had ruled out Italian because the words didn't seem Italian to me, but the rhythm and what I thought were French cognates made me put Italian back on the list of possibilities.  As is probably obvious by now, I spent far too much time trying to figure out what language they were speaking. This is probably because they spoke non-stop the entire ride, giving me plenty of data to examine.  Less important than my pitiful attempts at linguistic analysis was the scenery we drove past.  It was quite pretty, and made me wish that I lived somewhere with a bit more greenery.

Driving through D.C. was very enjoyable, for the buildings were beautiful and reminded me of Paris.  Luckily the drivers weren't quite as crazy as they were in Paris, although our driver had his moments.  I was interested to note little differences between Kansas and D.C.--whereas I usually have a 15 second timer to cross the street in Lawrence, there were 45 second ones in D.C. (I later found out that this wasn't always the case--the thin streets that took only five seconds to cross gave you 45, while the wide streets that took quite a bit longer to cross were a much shorter time, maybe 20 or so seconds.  Go figure).

The foreign language man was dropped off first at one hotel, and the woman at another, which confused me because I had thought they were married or something.  The young man (who I later found out was part of the CLS program, although not going to Turkey) and I were taken to the L'Enfant Plaza Hotel.  After tipping the driver, I got my bags and entered the hotel, checking myself in like a boss.  Or just an adult.

I reached my room after standing in the elevator for a minute wondering why it wasn't moving, only to realize that I needed to use my key first.  The numbering on the elevator was odd--it had Lobby, 2, 12, 14, and 15.  I get skipping 13, but the rest confused me so much that I even took a picture of it on my phone for further analysis later. 

I was expecting that perhaps my roommate would be there when I got in, but no one was there. The room was nice although the view wasn't fantastic, only overlooking the pool.  I set my stuff down and called my parents to let them know their darling daughter lived, then decided to take a well-deserved nap.  It was about 2 o'clock, and registration for my orientation was supposed to take place from 4-5:30, with the orientation starting at 6.  I figured I could take a nap for an hour before exploring D.C. a bit, coming back and registering, taking a shower, changing into business casual clothes, and heading to orientation.  At 3, I amended my plan slightly:  I could sleep another hour, register at 4, come back, shower, change, and go to the orientation.  After waking up at 4, I promptly fell back asleep and didn't wake up until 5:38.

Then I flipped out.

I thought for sure I had ruined everything--that I had managed to make my way to a hotel and check in like a good little responsible person only to oversleep and not be able to go to Turkey.  Flinging my shoes on, I sprinted to the elevator and waited impatiently for it to take me downstairs. I saw the registration table immediately and hurried towards it, relieved to see that people were still sitting there.  I found out that I wasn't even the last person to register, that everything was cool and that I didn't have to change because we were going to wear business casual tomorrow.  After receiving my orientation packet, I went to the second floor where the orientation was going to take place and was the first on there.

The next people to arrive were two guys who were going to Izmir, so we talked a bit as we waited for the others to arrive.  I found out that they were not only holding the orientation for those going to Turkey, but those going to Korea, as well.  I met a bunch of the Korea people and thought that there were only a few Izmir people, but I soon learned that they were quite a bit more of us (twenty-two, as I found out later).  I ended up talking to the Korea people more than I did to the Turkey people, but I didn't do much talking, to be honest.  I stood awkwardly in the corner, drinking very tart lemonade, as what pitiful "small talk" skills I had abandoned me entirely.  Luckily for me, however, we were ushered into the conference room and given a talk about the program.  They wanted to set us loose before it got dark so we could explore the city and they succeeded. I went upstairs to drop my stuff off, still roommate-less.  I left my room and hovered awkwardly by the elevator, trying to find a group to attach myself to and leech off of.  I was in luck when three girls and one boy approached the elevator.  I asked them if they were going to Turkey or Korea, and they said Korea, so perhaps I wasn't as lucky as I had originally thought.  But one girl asked me if I would like to join them, and I figured that even if I wouldn't be bonding with people I would be spending two months with, talking with anybody was better than just sitting by myself in the hotel because I was too afraid to wander the city by myself.  I accepted, and learned that their names were Heather, Jessica, Wesley, and Jess and that with the exception of Jess, who was twenty-eight, they were all undergraduates like me.  Heather declared that she was horrible with names and wouldn't be able to remember mine, and so therefore I was dubbed "Turkey."  Being incredibly fond of nicknames, I didn't mind at all.

Since we were four teenagers plus one adult, we were famished and decided to go for food. We learned that D.C. is apparently not the place for food, and had to walk several blocks before we found China Town.  We looked at a few Chinese restaurants, whose menus all looked pretty much the same, before going back to our original choice and ordering. The food was good, although I wish I had picked something different. Being cheap, I had ordered the sweet and sour pork, and whilst cutting open the first fried pork ball, it popped up and hit my beautiful WWI Memorial shirt, leaving me with a lovely pink stain. 

After dinner, Jess was feeling rather tired, so we walked her back to the hotel.  Then Jessica, Heather, Wesley, and I did an about-face and headed back into town, going to the Washington Monument, the Lincoln Memorial, and the WWII and Korean War Memorials.  Sadly I only had my phone with me, but that didn't stop me from taking a bunch of terrible photos anyway.  The monuments were beautiful and it was fun talking to my new friends, who I felt very comfortable with.  They were nice, laid-back, and easy to talk to, and I felt like we had been friends for much longer than a few short hours.  I told them that I wished they weren't going to the wrong country, and Heather told me she would unpack her suitcase and stuff me inside it.  After having so much fun with them, combined with my love of Korean food and the beautiful pictures my brother had shown me of Korea, it was a tempting offer.

We arrived back at the hotel at precisely midnight, my feet aching from all the walking around and both of my heels sporting blisters.  We made plans to meet up for breakfast at 8:20, and I knew that I was continuing to make the smart decision by spending more time with people I was only going to be able to see for two days as opposed to my fellow Turkish students.  But I liked them and decided that I would just have to interact with the Turkish students some other way.  I was mostly just happy that I had proven to myself that I could make friends, and rather easily.  After the awkward pre-orientation small talk, I was doubting my ability to communicate with others.

I went up to my room, sure that if my roommate wasn't there, then at least her stuff would be.  But there was still nothing.  I called my Aunt Christine because she had texted me and told me to, and had a nice conversation with her and Aunt Lisa.  After that I took a shower, because there was no way I was going to bed without one after walking around so much.  I chilled for a bit, then went to bed. 

At precisely 8:20 I met the others for breakfast at the American Grill inside the hotel.  We had been given $10 vouchers by the CLS program, which was enough to buy us...a bagel or a yogurt parfait, and that was about it unless you wanted to pay with your own money.  I was displeased, but since we were running short on time I just got the parfait.  At 9 o'clock we went back to the conference room for another talk about the program, during which I had the hardest time staying awake than perhaps any other time in my life.  Which confused me, since I had been wide-awake during breakfast.  Afterwards we were finally split into Korea and Turkey groups, and I moved off to the room where Turkey was meeting after bidding farewell to my friends.  One of the Turkey girls who had seemed friendly towards me was sitting at a table, so I sat with her and we were soon joined by other students.  I was awkward at first and didn't talk much, finding out that everyone at my table was either a Masters or a pH.D student.  Although everyone was nice and seemed willing to include me, I just didn't feel as comfortable or like I was clicking with them the way I had with my Korea friends. The people at my table just had so many more experiences than me. I've only taken two classes towards my major, and yet they were working towards the highest honors in their field.  Many of them had been abroad repeatedly and spoke many languages, although some seemed as new to Turkish as I, which was slightly reassuring. 

We had three guest speakers talk to us, and I found their talks very enjoyable. There was an energetic lobbyist for Turkey, a woman who worked for the Foreign Service (a career path I am considering), and a Turkish-American lawyer working with ethnic litigation (I can only imagine how hard that job must be), who was very funny and invited us all to get drunk at his summer home in Turkey.  This was funny, but also reminded me of just how young I seemed in comparison to the rest of the group, who all looked to be over twenty-one. 

After the talks was lunch, and I finally warmed up and started talking to the others. They were all very nice, but I was still lacking the connection I had to my Korea friends.  Our program director, Leslie, talked to us then about specific parts of our program.  We were given information about our host family (how many members were in the family, their address, the family name, and that was it).  I found out that I had three members in my family, which put me in the minority. Many people had only one or two people, and I was pleased that I had a legit host "family" to stay with.  We somehow finished an hour early and I followed my fellow Turkish students to Starbucks, where we sat outside and looked up our addresses on the iPhone map app.  Some people lived only three minutes walking distance from the Tömer Institute, and I was unhappy to find that not only was I fifty minutes walking distance from my classes, but that if I wished to go by foot I would have to swim there.  Yes, I'm pretty sure that I might have to take a ferry to class everyday.  I was actually pretty unhappy about that and the possibility of having to take two methods of transportation to get to class--I am incredibly cheap and the thought of having to pay for going to class and coming home while others just had to step outside was galling to me.  I knew that they'd increased the stipend to cover people having to take two methods of transportation, but I was still mad that I would have to be spending money where they didn't and would have more to spend on souvenirs.  I thought that it would be more fair for just the ones having to take more transportation to get more money, but what could I do?  I eventually got used to the idea, and some of my fears were alleviated when one girl, who had studied abroad in Turkey through CLS before, told me that my host family was supposed to take me to class on the first day so I wouldn't have to listen to directions in Turkish to some place I had never been using public transportation I had never taken.  We returned to our conference room, and next got to ask questions of the CLS alumni.  I'm not sure if I was still just thinking about paying for the ferry fair, but for some reason, where I had been excited earlier, the alumni talk actually made me very, very nervous.  Surprisingly, I wasn't so nervous about talking to my host family but talking to my language partner.  I'm bad enough at small talk in English and I really didn't want to spend at least two hours a week with some person who I might not even click with trying to make small talk in Turkish.  Luckily for me the two groups came together once again in the original conference room and were subjected to a boring talk about alumni activities, which gave me time to rethink my negativity.  That done, we were all packed onto a bus and told we were headed to a Malaysian restaurant for dinner.  I sat next to one of the CLS alumni and made decent stabs at small talk.

I was excited to try Malaysian food, since I was completely unfamiliar with it.  One girl said that it was like Chinese food, but after trying it for myself I would compare it much more closely with Thai food.  Since I'm a fan of Thai food, this was a very good thing.  Once more I sat with my Korea friends, joined by a another Korean student and his Korean friend who was visiting.  One of their friends came over and took a picture of us, and I felt like I was photo-bombing them with just my presence.  It was fun, however, so I didn't care too much.  The food was excellent, and the portions kept coming (we didn't have to order, CLS having made the decision for us).  We started out with some sort of fried pastry that was filled with potatoes and something else that made the potatoes red.   I wish I knew their name, because they were delicious.  Next came some sort of quesedilla--type bread cut into triangles along with beef and potatoes in a broth that reminded me of the beef curry I'd had at Baan Thai.  It was also very good.  Next came a stir-fry, and although I was sure that the dessert was next and the meal was almost over, next came a noodle dish with eggs, carrots, and shrimp, which I also liked.  Then came dessert, more of the triangle bread with some sort of sweet bean paste filling. Surely the meal was done now, I concluded.  But no, we got two desserts:  this time sticky rice with mango and some sort of white sauce.  I had had this exact dish at Baan Thai, and I love it.  The entire meal was outstanding and I wish I knew all the dishes I consumed. 

My poor friends had to get up at 2:30 A.M. to go to Korea, so they thought it was best if they went back to the hotel and got some sleep.  I bid them a sad farewell after promising to add them on facebook and keep them updated.  Heather was from Oklahoma, so she said maybe it would be possible for us to meet up sometime.  I was almost invited out with some of the Turkey people, but when they found out I was nineteen the offer was apologetically retracted because I assume that alcohol was going to be involved.  I didn't mind because I wanted a quiet night to prepare myself for my trip to Turkey the next day.  I picked out an outfit to wear, packed up my bags, talked to my parents for a while and spent as much time on facebook as I could.  I went to bed late, setting my alarm for 10.  I got up and took a shower, then checked myself out of the hotel at 12.  I met some of the students from Turkey and we stored our bags, then took the elevator down to the Metro.  My dad had told me about a restaurant called Roti that I was eager to try, but since it wasn't open I had Five Guys instead.  I sat with the Turkish students and discovered that some of them were in fact undergraduates.  Feeling better now that I had found people close to my own age, we spent a nice time chatting.  A girl mentioned that we could check in on our phones and change our seats to window seats, and all of us immediately whipped out our phones and madly tried to log into United.com.  I discovered that I had quite an undesirable seat in the middle of the middle row of the plane. Sadly there were no window or aisle seats open, but I changed my seat to a B so that I could at least be on the left side of the plane and be capable of glancing out the window if I so chose.  Then we were all crammed onto a bus headed back to Dulles Airport.  This part was not fun--even with a huge group to follow, Dulles is very big and very crowded and going through security was quite stressful and an experience I don't look forward to repeating anytime soon.  We waited for over an hour during which I bid yet another goodbye to the Internet and facebook (and reading an online graphic novel I found that took place in the Ottoman Empire).

I found my seat, 42 B, and after a little difficulty getting my second carry-on bag to fit (my dad had told me that you could check two bags on international flights but WRONG you can only check one), I sat down between a man and a woman, no CLS student in sight.  I immediately got busy doing all the important things: making a playlist from the music the plane provided and checking out the movies.  I was quite impressed with the selection, my options including Captain America, Iron Man, Sherlock Holmes: Game of Shadows, all three Lord of the Rings movies, Men in Black, Young Frankenstein, Lawrence of Arabia, and many other excellent choices.  The only thing that made me raise my eyebrows was the fact that "Beverly Hills Chihuahua" was included under the category "Classics."

I selected Captain America as my first choice, and got out my coloring book.  I picked a design and a lovely Loki-inspired palette of gold, green, and black, and I am very pleased with the result.  About an hour into the movie dinner was served, an option of chicken, vegetable, or the last remaining beef meal.  Under normal circumstances, I would have felt guilty taking the last beef, but I figured it was Providence that allowed me to have my favorite meat, and with YOLO (for my aunts reading this, that means "You Only Live Once") ringing in my head, I took that last beef meal and I'm glad I did. The beef, mashed potatoes, and vegetables weren't all that great, but the salad, bread, and brownie was actually pretty good.  While I was eating, I paused my movie and the older woman beside me began to talk to me.  She asked what movie I was watching, and when I replied "Captain America,"she said "I love that movie!"  For someone who is currently obsessed with the Avengers, complimenting anything Marvel-related, especially Captain America and Iron Man, is an excellent way to make your way into my good graces.  She got even cooler after that, when I found out that she had a daughter who is a linguist pursuing her pH.D at Georgetown.  I believe she had two other sons as well, one of whom might be studying literature, which is also cool.  We talked for over an hour about my study abroad and her children and it was very nice.  I was pleased once more with my ability to talk to strangers and felt a surge of confidence.  I wasn't even feeling nervous about meeting my host family.  I could "handle it." Eventually, though, she started watching Iron Man (I said she was cool, didn't I?) and I went back to Captain America and my coloring book.  When Captain America was done I watched all the scenes in War Horse with Tom Hiddleston in it, then switched over to Iron Man myself.  I finished my coloring page and began typing this blog post and watch Sherlock Holmes: A Game of Shadows.  Breakfast was served (just a croissant and a few pieces of melon, which I didn't eat because I hate melon).  And after what seemed like much, much less than eight hours (for I could have stayed up there for several more movies and been as happy as a clam), we landed.  I said goodbye to my new friend, who said that she hoped that she would see me again and that whenever she saw a Sarah she would think of me.  I told her I would keep an eye out for her daughter when I started to run in linguistics circles.   But she was a very nice woman and I'm glad I met her.  All in all, this was, by far, the best flight I have ever experienced.  It was much better than the cramped Air France flight that only offered one movie, and better than my flight returning from England where my TV screen was the only one that broke.  The selection of movies was awesome and I had way more stuff than I knew what to do with.  I kind of wish the flight could have been direct to Izmir just so I could stay on it longer. 

We touched down in Munich at 7:47 A.M., which continued my tradition of always arriving in Europe at around 8 A.M.  Luckily for me, however, Munich was not our final destination and my dad wasn't there to make us walk around until 6 P.M. so we could "get over" jet lag and turn me into a snarling rage monster ready to snap at whoever looked at me the wrong way (never mind that this method was completely effective; I still hate him for it).  It was cool to be in Germany for the first time since I was a fetus.  And although I'd expected to see signs half in German and half in English, I was surprised at how many were just in English and how few were just in German.  If it wasn't for the fact that I was sweating in the airport and that it smelt like cigarette smoke (despite the glass "smoke zone" that was completely failing to hold in the smoke), I might have thought I was in America. 

We're waiting now at gate H26 for our flight to take us to Izmir.  We have a five-hour layover.  We checked for Wifi and apparently there is some--but to get thirty minutes of free Wifi you have to give them your cell number so they will text you the pin and I don't know if that will cost me, so this will probably be posted later.  I think it's quite annoying for them to tease you with Wifi like that, especially only a measly half hour, but whatever.  I didn't sleep at all on the flight so I think I'll try to take the opportunity to nap a bit now before I get to Izmir and have to meet my host family.  I'm still not particularly nervous; in fact right now I'm mostly just anxious to find out what my access to Wifi will be like.  Which is foolish because I don't want to be tethered to my computer while I'm in Turkey, but it would be nice to at least be able to upload these posts in a semi-timely manner and Skype my family. 

Well, I guess that's pretty much it.  Nothing really to write about until I arrive in Turkey.  Excited to see how it goes!  Hope everyone is doing well and not missing me too much.

Ciao! <3

P.S.  Apologies for any mistakes or just ramblingness!  This tablet doesn't have spell-check and my editing skills are not their best after having not slept for who-knows-how-long =w=;;