...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.