Home Sweet Home

When I first arrived in Istanbul last April, it seemed massive and insurmountable. The streets and buildings flowed ceaselessly over and around the hills of Europe and Asia like spilled milk. The Bosphorus appeared to me as a giant levy holding the shops and streets and restaurants and apartments back from sprawling into the water, too. When I shut my eyes, I could imagine the buildings doubling and doubling into numbers too many for the banks to hold and falling one by one into the waterway, building upon building until the channel was plugged with a sea of malls and petrol stations. The more I've travelled in Istanbul, however, the more I've gotten to see that the take over of the Bosphorus is not necessary. Not when the city has no limits.

The two bridges that connect the continents seemed like too weak of ties for a city of almost 20 million, most of which live in Asia but travel to Europe everyday for work. "A one hour commute is normal," said one of my first coworkers who made that very commute, "you get used to it." I thought forty minutes was extreme then, and now it takes me the average Istanbul hour just to get to school. She was right though, you do get used to it.

Europe seemed like the best of Istanbul. Not only did it have all of the cool history, old buildings and beautiful views, it also had a nightlife with neat bars, good music, interesting people and good eateries. It had youth and vibrance, the feeling of expectance. There was always some protest on Istikal, and always some day to curse or celebrate. It seemed like you were always going to get scammed, even when you bought a soda from the bufe store. You most likely were, but you don't think about what is only going to anger you. And there was also an ever lurking danger that waited in the back streets, like the ghosts of murderers past still lingered in the doorways and broken windows. Hairs on your neck would stand up on a wrong turn, and meeting anyone - and child, a family, an old woman - would make your heart skip a beat you were so much on edge. But, that was the thrill and excitement of living in Europe. You were asking for things to happen to you.

I'm now an Asian convert. I like the structured streets (well, semi-structured, they still sprawl and one ways confuse me, but there's more order than Europe and that's close enough to "structured" for me). I like the clean area and access to parks and the view of the Prince's Islands. I like my large apartment that would be impossible to get anywhere close to Europe. I like how clean it is, that there's a big screen TV for me to watch Buffy on, that there's peace and quiet all of the time and that I can jump around my living room without the worry of creepy onlookers. I like the balcony where I play my guitar to the quiet back streets of Istanbul, the ones in Asia that don't arouse all of the hairs on my body to stand on their ends. I like 8 to 5 job I have (most days) and the people I work with. I don't like the commute, but that's apart of the life here. So without it, I guess I'd be a fake Istanbulian. I like the access to downtown if I want it, but also the access to the beach and to the nightlife of Kadikoy. I like the friends I've made here and the people I've gotten to meet. I like that I've gotten to do all of this with Brendan, and I love the world we've built together. I think this is the Istanbul we were dreaming of while in Korea, and I think it's now safe to say that we can call it home sweet home.

For the time being at least...

Happy Together

It's another one of those ending-beginnings. I've finished the job from hell and started (again) a life of bliss with my B and friends. This Saturday will be four weeks since I've quit. Does not seem like it. It feels like a lifetime ago, and not even my life, someone else's. And I guess that was part of the vexation I felt there, that I wasn't living my own life. I wanted to have MY but I was stymied with a HER, THEM and WE. (I was sometimes included in the them, so I can put a 'we'- though I didn't want to be apart of that 'we' - I wanted a B and me "we'.)

Now, however, I have what I want and am very happy with it. I have a B that makes me laugh and giggle, friends that stop by to see us and that I can go see whenever I want. I have a job that allows me FREE TIME, though a foreign concept at first, I think I'm getting used to the idea. By the way, the new job is at a private school on the Asian side of Istanbul, it's called Istek Vakfi. You should google it, it's quite nice as are the people who work there. I'll be working as a kindergarten teacher there and B will be working at the primary level (grades 4 to 7). We both work at the same school, just not in the same building. Thus we travel together in the mornings and nights but get to enjoy some space at work. It's kind of perfect.

Then there's also the apartment, the huge 3 bedroom apartment with a balcony for me to play my guitar on, an extra room for B to write in or for visitors to stay in, and a gargantuan living room/dining room for us to entertain OUR friends. I sound a little braggy, I know, but really- I think I've earned a little brag time. So, it's nice and we're happy! :) And also, we'd love to entertain anyone who is thinking of a journey to Istanbul! WE HAVE ROOM!

Anyways, I think B and I are going to go on a day trip today to Sile - a small town on the Black Sea - thus, I should probably stop blabbing and get MY six-year old spirited B ready! And I suppose myself, too, of course! :) Yay for Bayram and no work this week! School starts Monday!

First day of my life

Saturday, August 6th, 2011: the first day of my life.

I'm now a free person and enjoying the freedom of saying yes and no. I say the latter a lot more now. I also like buying my own food and choosing what I want to eat. What I do is limited as of right now- as I sprained my ankle last week and again today. Thus, my life is marked by four walls again. On the bright side, they have a Brendan and lots of pillows and chocolate. I may not have freedom of movement (namely running- which I've missed almost as much as Brendan), but I have time and love and choices that are all mine and no one else's and that is the beauty of Saturday, yesterday and today and every day after. They're all mine and I get to choose how I spend them.

Also - news on the new job front: I'm pretty certain I have a new job with an elementary school! They want to hire both Brendan and myself and have offered us joint housing as well. This is very, very good news as now B and I can see more than enough of each other and have the freedom to choose not to! :P B will work as a real elementary teacher, for grades 3 to 6, and I will work as a kindergarten teacher, so children ranging in age from 4 to 6. I'm very happy with that level and excited to play more than instruct on grammar! So, yay! We have a life to look forward to! We may be successful in Istanbul yet!

Never-ending story

I want to write this before it does a one-eighty, and who knows when that could be.

Lately, the girl has been very good for me. I mean super good - so much so that I forget I'm working. And if I forget I'm working, I must be having - dare I say it - fun? I think I am. And it's a crazy thought because for the past two months I've been in what feels like the darkest pit of hell. Yet, this week, and last now that I think of it, the girl has been anything but a monster. (Apart from the day she started screaming, scratching and hitting me because she didn't want to get out of the bath. Besides that.) She's been a pretty good friend and playmate for that whole time, which makes me think - again, dare I say - she actually likes me? She may miss me when I go? And when I think about that, well, it just makes me feel bad about going - like I'm the one who is being selfish. I know I need my life back, but I think I may be getting sucked into a void deeper and scarier than hell, I believe some call it "happiness"? Others say "love"?

Whatever the correct term is for it, I definitely care about the girl. And caring is going to make going a lot harder. Lot, lot, lot, LOT harder. And what's more, today - very sweet and obviously very thoughtful because she made a point for me to hear it (like stopped on the way down the stairs when she was already late to go to the movies with her father), she said: "Thank you for everything, Jenna." I was totally not expecting such a kindness. I just looked at her and smiled and could only think to reply, "You're very welcome, Lal. That is so kind of you to say. Thank you for saying "thank you"." Then we took a few steps and she stopped again and said, "And... and I am really sorry you can't come to the movies with me and my dad." Again, I was dumbfounded and touched at such thought from what I've called "monster" for the past two months and just said, "I am, too. I'd like to see a movie with you as well, but you and your dad will have a great time together, just you two without a silly nanny around." She kind of nodded and I followed her out to the car that was waiting. And as I put her in she seemed really sad and thoughtful. I think she thinks I'm leaving soon, very soon because as the car pulled out and I waved, she just looked out the window into space, like she was not wanting to be alone anymore.

So, anyways, that was what is occurring in the daily house of chaos. I don't know what to do even more because I don't want to leave the girl. I really care for her. Yet, I just don't know if I can give my next year of life to a mad house. If it was just her, I could do it no problem. She's good, really she is. She just misses her parents, she wants them to be around and to show her attention, to love her. Right now I'm a stand-in for that and I can only imagine what it's like to change stand-ins for the sixth time in your life. It has got to be difficult to understand. I'm sure she wonders why she needs a nanny and then why none will stay with her for so long. So though she has people around her everyday all day, it hurts her to feel like none want her and love her all the time - not just when they "feel" like it or are paid to as I am. I really do care but I'm sure it's confusing to know that I'm also paid to care. Doesn't change what I feel, but to a six year old it would be difficult to understand.

Rambles galore today - sorry. Just very much in my head these days and have to put those head things some where. As here is the only place that is always in my time zone AND tells me not to shut up, I will hang my head stuff here. Anyways, another update should be soon. I'm expecting to leave here within the weekend.

Am I done yet?

It's been almost four weeks (three weeks and two days which in my book is almost 4) since I've said "Quit." But, it seems in this house "quit" doesn't mean "finished, done, kaput, take a gander at my bum while i walk out your front door," nor does it seem to mean any of those will occur in the near future. The contract (that I never signed but am holding to because I believe in honor and justice and all that) says for four weeks notice. Monday, August 8th is four weeks exactly. After that, I'm not bound to the house of crazy in any way. I can walk "legally". Yet, if they don't find a nanny by then what do I do? Do I leave them hanging with a sick grandpa 6 hours away that the mom has to go visit while dad tries to juggle the house on his own? How much do I care about the well-being of this family? They don't care one lick about me. They've proven it over and over again, and especially since I've said I'm going. Yet, I feel bad. Is that just the mid-west gentile? Should I ignore it and bolt as soon as my "contract" allows?

What's more, it's exhausting to worry over it, to worry over the girl because even though she is an annoying six year old at times, she is also very sweet and loving and in need of someone to cry to when mum isn't able to be around. So, I worry over her, I worry over leaving the family without a caregiver for the girl, I worry over my visa and finding other jobs after this, over a place to live after this. I need time next week to go into interviews and pick a school (I have three interested in me, all with similar contracts.) I need time to find an apartment as well. I've been searching online for the past week with Brendan. We keep e-mailing each other back and forth similar ad posts. Yet, we can't decide until we know where I'll work. And I don't know that until I know when I'm finished with this job. This job, however, seems never-ending. Am I done yet?!

Also, the news on the home front makes me more homesick than ever. A new person has come into the world! A little girl named Lauryn. My mom sent me a photo of her and her grandma (my aunt) and she's so adorable I want to do that pinching cheeks thing that kids hate. She's almost a week old now, but what I'd really like to do is fly home and meet her, see her brother and sister and the family. Just for a week or two.

I'd also like to pay my respects to my step-grandma who past away last week. I didn't get to visit her when I was home last and I'd like to say a goodbye though she won't really hear it. Yet, I found out that the postcard I sent (in my first wave of trials with the Turkish post) actually made it to her! I think that's some proof of a miracle! Anyways, I'm just glad she knew I cared before she was gone. I've always thought we don't do enough to show our care during life - like they always say "Don't speak ill of the dead." But what about the living? Is it okay to speak ill of them? Why give flowers to a grave when they fit much better in a life filled hand? I think maybe the small reminders of care can lift a person up, how high doesn't matter. A lift maybe all that's needed. I hope that my simple postcard did that for Glady because I'm sure kind words are much harder to hear when you're six feet under.

So, that's where I'm at these days. In limbo and awaiting news about anything. I'd like to quit and fly home on the first flight to MSP, but that's not the way I was raised. I'm not a quitter- quitter. One who lets people down and hurst others. I'm trying to end this well, it's just knowing how long it is til the end that is most trying.

I am Gollum...

I creep around the house trying not to be noticed. A creak here, a creak there and I think the vibrations begin earthquakes. I slink up the stairs from my dark, dank cellar. One, two flights then safety amongst the masticated dolls and toys who have fallen victim to the monster...

And there is a monster that lives here. No one will believe me, I doubt even you, faithful reader, but she does. She's small, yes. Beautiful, of course. Deadly, undoubtedly! She'll mame you for putting her shoe out of place, put you in iron grips for not agreeing to her capricious whims, and kill you with her mommy death-blows for making her the littlest bit angry. She is one to be watched and I am her watcher!

During the day, while mommy is away, she is demanding but fair. She rules her lair with that of the Queen of Hearts, taking those whom she trusts into her care and attacking those whom she deems traitors of the day. The hard part? She changes her mind like a deranged ferret, hopping back and forth between "feelings" and "impulses" like a mad woman. Those who try to please her fall into teddy bear prison, a not so bad place made up of derelict teddies who've found their crimes paid for and are a sign for you to keep your place with kisses and chocolate. Then there are those who fall into disaster mayhem where spitting and pinching are not uncommon and screaming and yelling are frequent on the eardrums. They're jobs are made tougher and longer, and after they're finished, and who knows when that will be, they are sent to the dungeon to pay for their impudence.

And that, that stuffy, hot cavern of a cell is where I live. I, Gollum, have taken board in the place where no other wishes to be. I've found a home in the dark, in the night. Because I, I alone, stand up to the monster! I am a new Gollum! I fight for my esteem, though I have none. I fight for respect, though the term is archaic. I fight...I fight...

But then I don't. Then I stumble down after fighting all day. Down, down to my dank coffin of a room and stealthily pull, very tenderly grab My Precious... She's one of a kind, white as new snow or my father's aging hair. She's crisp, too, delicate. One fall and she'd break into bits, leaving me more alone than ever before. She tells me stories, you see, of a world not here. She explains events that end with good over evil, and righteousness over malice. She knows me, understands me. She's named "Kindle" because she lights a fire in the darkness, but to me she is only "My Precious", and My Precious is the secret of my dwelling. Without her, I'd have rotted a long, long time ago. She's my savior and I am her faithful, loving Gollum. Together, My Precious and I, we shall fight the terrible, impenetrable monster! The end is coming!

Not a nanny

It's only taken me six weeks, but I've finally realized that I'm not cut-out to be a nanny. Through conversations with both Brendan and my parents (though sadly rare while working here) I was reminded time and again that there's more to life than this, and that I don't have to be here if I'm miserable- FREEDOM and HAPPINESS are always options.

What's funny is that since I can remember, it has always been my prerogative to tell others that they have escape, that if they're unhappy to change it and follow something that makes them happier and more fulfilled. And now, when the shoe is on the other foot, that it takes me a long time to listen and activate the changes needed.

And yet, I did finally listen and am now activating the following:

1) Quit job as live-in nanny (has one month notice - so end date is Aug. 11/12)
2) Move out of "home" and into REAL home with Brendan
3) Find other work that allows me to be there and have some down time.
4) Study away for the GRE, apply to grad schools and get recommendations before November.
5) In the meantime, and there should be a lot more than I have now, talk with my friends and family, play music and write new songs on my guitar, draw, run, dance, travel, eat and eat and eat and read!

What's most obvious about my ineptitude for this position is that I've known freedom since I can remember, I grew up free and believing everyone is equal. No matter the changes that have come so far, that is one characteristic that is unbreakable. In this position, it has been a challenge everyday to assert my equality and to find some chance for self-expression. Not only does the girl not listen to anything I say, she also treats me like a dog, expecting me to come whenever she wants me (not needs, but wants) and to do whatever she asks. Something I have tried to break her of but have only met worse rage and anger. I'm so exhausted from the day before that I don't have any energy to continue my protest. I end up doing the things just because I'm tired of fighting.

Perhaps that's how despotism works? It's just easier to roll over and be bossed around than it is to fight everyday for what's good. I'm still going to fight (when I can and have the energy), but I now know that my battle is not in this household, not with this child and not as a nanny. It's definitely a lot bigger and more important, and it's definitely worth the fight, and that is my life, my family, my friends. (I know that's a lot of possessive usage, but it now means a lot to say that somethings don't belong to the six year-old and that somethings are MINE and all MINE!

If you give a 6 year old...

So do you know that book? The one that's titled, "If you give a mouse a cookie"? If you do, then you know my current life inside and out. If you don't, well then I'll tell you - it's kind of like this: (if you replace the mouse with a 6 year old girl)

If you give a 6 year old a choice, she's going to choose the one you didn't want her to choose.
So say it's between having her breakfast in bed or downstairs. She'll choose in bed, every time.

If she eats it in bed, she'll want to watch a video while she eats. She'll pick one and then change her mind as soon as you've put it in. It's best to tell her she must watch whatever one she chooses, so she best choose carefully the first time!

If you put in a video, she'll want to watch the whole thing AND draw while she watches. So you must get out blank white paper and markers so she can color away.

If she's like most 6 year olds, her attention span will not be long. So about half way through the film, she'll decide she wants to play house AND keep watching the film. So you play house, and you're ALWAYS the mom or the dog.

When the movie finishes, she'll probably want to keep playing. But this time, she wants her dolls to have houses and beds. She'll ask YOU to make them for her. And because it's fun, you'll make a house with red walls, a pink roof and a green door. It will have yellow trimming and grass growing around it. She'll want the beds to match, so you make one of every color.

Now it's lunch time, and she'll want something you've never made before. So you must go down to the kitchen, and not be long, and make whatever it is that she wanted. You end up asking the cook to help.

Again, while she eats, she'll want to watch ANOTHER video. You put ANOTHER video in and watch the WHOLE thing. Again, she'll get anxious and want to draw again, but this time - on your hands. By the end of the movie, you have flower doodles all over you paws and paper chips in your hair. She's still running around you while you try and scrub them all off - which they never do!

Finally, after you chase her around the room, she gets a bath. But in the bath she'll want you to read to her. So you'll read her almost three books before her 30 minutes are up, and then take on the task of drying her two and a half feet long golden locks.

While you're drying her head she'll want to sing and maybe cut up some shimmery pompoms so she can use them as confetti in her next game which is shower time! You lay on the bed and she showers you in little shimmery pieces of chopped up bows. It takes you another half hour just to clean them all up.

Lsatly, you send her off to supper which is hopefully followed by TV time with her mom and dad, which is then hopefully followed by bedtime and two books.

You'll go to bed after her, flop on your pillows and close your eyes for a minute only to find the next day has come, and you get to do it ALL over again. THE END.


Typing this, and knowing that I was once a six year old like this, too, makes me want to write a special thank you to my own mom and dad: THANK YOU FOR NOT SELLING ME SO YOU COULD HAVE FREE TIME! IT TRULY IS GREATLY APPRECIATED!

I on the other hand, may sell this girl back to her family. There's only so much tinsel in your face, ears and arm pits that one can take!

Bars of Gold

Hi, my name is Jenna. I live in a place made of reenforced steel and specialty woods from Europe. There is a food store that never runs out and a clean water tap that never runs dry.
A piano sits adjunct to a panorama of the Bosphorus. I can play it whenever if there is no one sleeping in the house.
Outside there is a pool which is cleaned weekly by someone else. There is also a garden where fresh strawberries grow and beat like petit hearts. I can stroll by them day or night, pick them if I wish to fill my belly or make a pie for all to enjoy.
Contiguous to the house is a winter garden where I can read my books, study my Turkish and play with the baby of the house if I'd like a break from thinking. My favorite place is there as it overlooks the Bosphorus as well, and Rumeli Castle and the second of the two bridges that connect Asia and Europe. A walnut tree is there, too. I'm grateful for it as its leaves shade me while I read and study. Without it, I'd be open and vulnerable to the sun because the winter garden is made of glass. Sometimes the light finds its way through the branches to my face and blinds me. Other times it warms my back and legs, giving me energy to continue my reading. I love the winter garden.
Then there is a girl who lives here, too. She is young, only six. She has golden hair down to her tush and a presence which demands attention. Her room is from a JC Penny catalogue with pink and purple and white and princesses decorating every inch of the space. Toys are stuffed into every niche and sometimes, so am I. She acts and plays like a princess, and if I were her, I would also be confused whether I was one or not. She asks and receives at a speed near the transfer rate of a fiber optic cable. There is no such thing as "no". And I am but another toy in her house of glass and gold.
Gold because though all is perfection and bounty and beauty, there is a price in gold bars. They define the space as Eden and all else as not. Outside them is a reminder of the city I came to see. Loud cars, cramped buses, ferries coming and going like bees at their hive. Just over the hill is a space where women dress in long trench coats with long skirts and head scarves. They are always walking, I never see them sit. The men are the opposite. They sit but not walk. They drink a lot of tea and smoke a lot of cigarettes. I shouldn't, but I like the style of the men more. They at least know how to relax. I don't think the women are allowed.
Across the Bosphorus there is another scene which plays to my imagination more so than my reality these days. That is of a monkey-Brendan at home in a world of stress and loneliness. I worry that he may be going mad without me to make him take a break and play. I worry that I may be going mad worrying.
Thus, my job is in its inchoate stage. It's fresh and new and beautiful. I am lucky. I have bars of gold that keep me safe and pay me well. Not many can say such things. Yet, I miss a bit the world of chaos and insecurity. It was fun because it was uncertain, and I thrive in the uncertain. I'm ironically unhappy that I'm not certain as to how I'll thrive here, behind bars of gold.

Pictures of the tortuous

Now, imagine you're an ant in a new world of weeds as tall as sycamores.

A glance up as i walk the tepe (hill) to Tarlebashe (the main, dodgy road).

The view from my abode. As you can see, the city resembles the character of an Energizer battery.

Can you tell? This is the same street as number 1. It's down the hill though. Follow it and you have many doors to chose from. The prizes may vary.

This is the magical Istikal street - The one with the lights and whistles I mention we find as our savior from the darkness of Tarlebashe. This a normal amount of people for Istikal.

Lastly, this should look familiar? It's the same street as 1 and 3, and the same direction as 1. Looking at the buildings with two different views is actually how I take in new surroundings. First, it is the up and then I look to the down. Where am I going? I ask myself. Then I look up again and remind myself that I don't care.

Tortuous

The best word to describe the streets of Istanbul is "tortuous". They are winding, twisting, maze-like squiggles that somehow get deemed names even if they're only a block long. Buildings make their homes on any square of open space and continue up because the outer perimeters are made up of other buildings and roads that are also trying to find sunlight. Their weed-like appearance palpably produces a belittled feeling, in which I play a determined ant and the world is my obstacle. Up and down, around and through fallen trees. I seem to climb and climb but find myself back where I started, or maybe a hill up from there. I stop and rest only to gobble up my little ant bites of grub, extract what energy I can from them, and then continue on my arduous adventure around the weeds of Istanbul.

Now that you see me as an ant, you can imagine me being dropped among the weeds on my first day with a load of all that I plan to own for the next year. In reality my luggage weighs about 100 (+) pounds, but in the ant world, I'm certain it would match the load of a dead fly. A little big, a lot awkward, and very important only to me, really. Though, I do catch the other bugs eyeing up my load every so often, and it makes my little ant legs start to tread with the fervor of the great hummingbird's wings. I don't like the thought of losing my dead fly to a slug gang, or a cross-dressing cricket. It would be very unfair as I've worked very hard to earn the dead fly.

The beetle I rode in on from the airport got confused, as beetles often do. He got turned around when he flipped on his back and read the map. Very unfortunate for me and my fellow ant friend. We didn't know that beetles had this tendency. So, we got out where the beetle told us to get out, near a large open space known as Taksim Square. I believe it's a common location for insect rallies against the government of weeds. This would have been helpful had we known what it was, but as we were new ants on a new hill, we could only really look at one grain of sand at a time. Trying to piece all of those sand grains at once would have been like piecing the moon together by looking at all of its craters. Simply impossible.

My first impression from the sand grains and weeds I explored was that they all looked too alike to tell the difference. I could make out the main bug paths from the flattened reeds or lack thereof, but couldn't juxtapose myself next to any one thing that was on the map I had. We could make out one street and that was Tarlebashe, or what I now know as the street of doom for weak ants at night. The sun was setting and we began to meander down the street, using our antennae for information on our progress.

We bumped into logs and trees and many, many weeds. We wandered around them in circles to no avail. Finally, I told my ant friend to sit with our load of dead flies and wait near a Tarlebashe dragonfly bus stop while I wandered the streets. I figured it would be much quicker and more efficient for me, the less tired and better navigating ant to go off alone than the other, more sporadic and worrisome ant.

I walked in more circles and up and down more hills than I could remember. We had already wandered with our loads for an hour, so I was very tuckered and very much hoping to see something that resembled an ant nest. A few more twists and wicked turns and WHOOSH! Like the wind of a swooping swallow I was overcome with the gusts of Istikal, the shopping area for hip ants looking for a good time with the crickets and grasshoppers.

Wait, now. Though this may sound like a good thing (it was but...), but it wasn't on the map I had. I couldn't see it anywhere. Still, I trekked back to my fellow ant and let my antennae go wild with his and told him to follow me to the street of lights and safety! He let out a signal of pure glee as he told me that while he was waiting he had been affronted by two different cross-dressing crickets, and that he was certain he was standing on their corner. I smelled the air, nodded my head and quickly loaded our dead flies that were still being ogled by the slugs on the other corner. YIKES.

So he followed, and I led. On the way we decided that maybe we should just stay at a slug inn for the night, just so we're not wandering around entertainment central with everything we own, weak and vulnerable and ready for the taking.

By the time we found a slug inn among the weeds, we both were ready to collapse. Our load was tattered and wet, and we were in a state of delusion. A night of nestling on a bed made of reeds (not the best either), and a breakfast smelling of ground coffee beans and steamed milk, and we knew we'd be much more durable in the morning.

A gander at the international spider web was all that was needed to set us right. We perked up, loaded our stores and headed out in the direction opposite to where we had been headed the night before. Just 30 minutes and a few wrong turns then right turns then a hill or two later, we found our cricket landlord who would lead us just 5 minutes to our new ant hill's door.

I don't know if it sounds more or less difficult when I tell it from the view of an ant. But I think if I say that it only took us 14 hours, a good rest and a coffee to be little ant superstars, when it should have taken us 20 minutes had the beetle not been upside down, Tarlebashe not so dark and creepy, and the weeds so tall or the roads so tortuous. Not to mention our outlandish amount of baggage stessing our ant legs and mind the whole time.

It really is good to know where we are now, but recounting this first day of Istanbul confounds me as how we weren't picked off by the crickets or grasshoppers or slug gangs that were eyeing us newbies up. Perhaps they took pity on the frightened and lost little ants, or perhaps our dead flies didn't look as appetizing as I thought they looked. If that's the case, I'm going to start trying to look like a dead fly more often. Maybe I'll feel safer walking the Tarlebashe tortuous streets at night.

Not Constantinople Newbie

Merhaba, new blog! (And new blog readers!)

Finally commencing an online "memoir"/journal for myself, and newsfeed of sorts for my family and friends back in the States. As you most likely know, I flew off to Istanbul mid-April this year. Prior to then I was living in South Korea teaching little spunk-meisters how to curse in English. I came home for about three weeks in March/April and then headed off for a new adventure a la Istanbul.

I've been here about a month now and therefore think I can make a bit more sense out of everything that's come my way. For instance, the police en mass with their gas masks and batons don't seem as daunting as they were the first week. The angry protests down Istikal (the main shopping/entertainment street near my apartment) are not so overwhelming as they are daily and innocuous. There is also the hurdle of language, one of the more furtive though mundane obstacles of living abroad. I'd like to believe I'm capable most days, but then find my ego as quickly knocked over as the cup of coffee I try to apologize for, but embarrassingly can't. One would think I should just learn how to speak the darn language, I mean I think I should just learn to speak the darn language, but I think I've gradually morphed out of the traveler's alacrity for the new and into the expatriate's endurance for the everyday. In other words, I find myself gravitating more and more towards the everyday needs versus the outrageous, exciting and enigmatic experiences. I actually think this tendency may be the same equation as that for getting older. Is that not what the wise and sapient do? And isn't there that saying, "Travels are for the young." Or is that just what my friends and family have said to me? No, they/you said, "Best to do it (travel abroad) while you're young." I'm saying here that I'm beginning to understand what they/you mean. -I'm feeling older with each new experience. Language is but one example. Not only is my English ephemeral, but so are my memories of the new languages I've recently learned or am trying to learn. I'll acquire one word in Turkish one day, but then lose five words of Korean and forget how to use my English modals the next day. Most of the time I feel I'm in retrograde and therefore am frustrated with every "one step forward, two steps back" occurrence. I don't mind losing my Korean, but I do mind feeling old and slow. A smart person would combat this tendency with brain sharpening quizzes and puzzles, but the layman, i.e. moi, sticks to her obdurate limited communication and continually orders a similarly insipid/disgusting dish at every meal. *It did not happen this quickly in Korea. I studied Korean everyday and tried to speak with my fellow teachers. I had to learn it because not many people spoke English. After about a year I realized I didn't have to speak as much Korean as I thought, and let my studies and ambition taper to near nothing. The problem I'm seeing in myself in Turkey is that I've been here just a month and have already become ambivalent towards Turkish. On one hand, I feel incredibly lazy and angry at myself for being so, but on the other hand, ignoring that one stress (and a big stress, at that) assuages my mind to a relatively agreeable comfort level. Meaning, I ironically feel more capable when I am unable to speak the local language. Don't ask me why, but I think it has something to do with ego and the familiar being a large bolster to it. Like if you live under a rock, at least you know that one rock inside and out. But if you go outside of the rock, you have a whole headache of crap to learn! I enjoy the learning crap on most days, but when it's everyday, I very much miss my rock.

Time is another issue for the nascent citizen, and I have more time now because I'm not so worried about seeing EVERYTHING there is to see in the city. For the first couple of weeks there was nothing but a large stress bubble engulfing both my and my boyfriend's worlds. We worried about jobs, money, traveling, people, food, language and rent on loop. We wanted to see a lot of Istanbul but also felt insecure about our wallet size and therefore job searched for most of the time, ate for a quarter of the time and finally did our part as newbies to Istanbul, seeing a bulk of the sights within a couple days we took off each week (and those were the cheap/free sights - no 20 Lira Topkapi Palace kind of thing.) I'm fairly certain that this is a normal stress for most new expatriates, especially those without a steady income. That stress coupled with the newness of everything really brings your patience down to near nothing, and your annoyance level up to the back of your throat. Thankfully, we had each other to lean on, to bicker with, to commiserate and laugh with. If it wasn't for the Brendan and our few new friends here who have helped us with finding employment, I'm not certain how well I would have foundered here. Istanbul a likable city and I already have an affinity for it, but my comfort level is tested daily when I walk out my front door, and thank Whatever, there's a Brendan to escort me home when my patience has cracked and my mouth is spouting warnings of my internal combustion. Now that we're kind of finding our groove here, my combustion has lessened since. Yet, if there's one thing I've learn about allaying time stress (and all those things that fall into it), is that it's not a crime to take a day off. And that most of the time, those things that seem so stressful now are most likely hugely overrated in your head. Accepting that thought, I've been a lot less combustible and a lot more likable (by people and by myself.)

So, in all, I'm glad to say that life is a bit slower now and the city a lot smaller since we've both got a stable source of Lira these past couple of weeks. I will be doing a Governess position, which will be live-in as of June 1st, and Brendan will be doing a lot of tutoring and copy-editing until September, when he'll start full-time for an academy-like institution. Yes, this means we won't get to live together for the next year, but I think that may be okay as the most stressful part of moving halfway across the world is largely over. Now we just have to go with the flow and stop trying to tread so hard.