Sweet Honey and Conversation

I woke up this morning with a breeze coming up over the lake and a couple Snapchats waiting to be opened.  I slept for 8 full hours and I can’t remember the last time that has happened.  The breakfast in our hotel (which is like AMAZING—probably 4 or 5 stars) had fresh cheese, hard-boiled eggs, cured meats, fresh bread, dried fruits, and honey like I’ve never had before.  The honey alone needs its own blog entry—it wasn’t too sweet, and had the most rich flavor.  I think I want to know more Turkish bees.

My luggage (and three other colleagues’ luggage) got stuck somewhere in the world whether it be Newark or Istanbul.  Dealing with this in the Istanbul airport was incredibly frustrating and reminded me a lot of the rigmarole I experienced while living in Mexico--5 different lines all telling us to go to the next while intermittently being ignored because it was their lunch break.  However, our bags are being delivered today by noon.  I’ll be thankful to not brush my teeth using my breath mints and my toothbrush. 

A Texan woman is teaching us about Turkish culture today oddly enough.  She’s been here for 43 years.  I feel like if George W. Bush were wearing pearls and a lady’s jacket it would be Ms. Elizabeth.  From what I’m able to piece together from her ranting is that Turkey is a great place, it’s been difficult for her to adjust, and that the current political leader is an ass. 

Side Rant: Screw Nescafé.  It isn’t fair that the countries that PRODUCE the most amazing beans end up having to drink this instant coffee because AMERICANS take all the good stuff.

All 14 of us gringos took our bulging wallets to the bank to exchange money into Turkish Lira today—I guess the exchange rate is pretty awesome for us this summer because with L10 I can assume its about $5.50.  My beer, which cost me L7 last night, was less than $3.50—So, that’s badass. I’ve already felt a little bit gawked at which is something that always makes me feel uncomfortable—I don’t think that when I have my pompadour sported it’ll help me feel any less looked-at.  

After the bank, we all were emptied into a restaurant with big benches down a long picnic-table-clothed platform.  Turkish waiters in nicely pressed white shirts with tufts of their chest hairs sticking through brought out salads and 4 feet long boards with what looked like thin crust pizza.  It was called Bıçak Arası.  Holy moly—it was SO good.  You could take the long green hot peppers and wrap the thin pizza-like food around them and eat them.  It was delicious.  However, nothing compared to dessert—which was Künefe.  It was like they had taken a fresh cheese, put Shredded Wheat crumbles on top, then baked it to get it gooey, and poured the most amazing honey all over the top (again, the honey needs its own blog entry here). 

From there we went back to the hotel for our lectures about US-Turkish relations over the last nearly decade, and then our “survival” Turkish.  I say “survival” because grunting and pointing seems to work well enough…or even just using my English.  So, to sum up the first lecture: the United States and Turkey are like besties and have been since the end of WW2 but we aren’t really sure where our relationship is going in the future.  It seems that the US has been using Turkey mostly for its proximity to the large vast oil fields in the Middle East—go figure! Regardless, the positive relationship for us visiting here this month is awesome.  We get treated so well, and have access to a lot more than maybe what some nationals do. 

We met for dinner in our hotel’s dining room.  The 15 of us eating at one table is quite the sight.  We all (except for the native Turkish speakers) have perfected but one word—teşekkürler: thank you.  We sound like parrots all uttering the same thing—the Seagull scene in finding Nemo comes to mind. Our on-site coordinator, Gökhan Çapoğlu (Goh-kahn Cha-po-loo) is essentially a genius—he had a full ride scholarship to University of Denver in 1979 and then a full ride for his PhD to U.C. Berkeley.  He was a member of the Congress (I think—or maybe its parliament). He told us some of the funniest stories at dinner tonight—think “genius uncle telling you about his college life at Christmas dinner”.  We ate Sea Bass and I ordered an Efes (Turkish beer) followed by some fresh fruit for dessert.

I went to my room and crashed for 6 hours, and now find myself, at 3:30 a.m., iMessaging with friends while hearing a faint echoed chant ringing out over the lake of the morning prayers being projected by minarets in the distance.  It’s ghostly, and yet full of life.  Turkey is its own identity—not Arab, and not quite European.  I hope the photographs I take will help convey what I’m experiencing, but just know that this place is remarkable and if you ever get a chance to come here—do it!