Kebabcim

Words I know, I know in Turkish: 

Hello

Goodbye

Goodnight

Thank you

Yes (I can never remember how to say no but there is this thing that you can do with your lips to make a clicking noise—someone described it to me a clicking at a horse… apparently when I do it, it’s always perceived as provocative.  I need to try to remember to not wink while saying “no” with my lips…)

According to Americans

The American Embassy

Museum

Smoking

Prostitute (of course there is an inappropriate story behind this one…)

One

31 (it also means masturbation, don’t ask me why, I tried to figure one out)

Very cute

Very sexy (yup you know those Turkish men)

A little

Kebab

Black (I can’t remember any other color, so I’m very limited with what I can buy)

Okay

All the Turkish officials and names of newspapers in Turkey—does that count?

Okay here are a few sentences I can come up with so far with my Turkish:

According to American’s, smoking is very sexy.

Yes, Black Kebab.

Prostitution? A little…

Goodnight museum.  Hello American Embassy!

Beypazari- City along the Silk Road in Central Anatolia

known for it's mineral water- they bottle it and sell it, obviously!  They say it promotes good health if you drink it everyday (subtle advertising) and you can even get clear skin from washing your face with it.  I bought some in apple flavor.  Apparently their marketing skills worked!

factory where they bottle the mineral water

view of the city

The city was once under water so as you drive along the Silk Road, you can see the layers from the Sedimentary Rock.  (omg, that's the first time I've ever used anything I learned from geology!)

It's also known for carrots (weird) and silver and gold.  Guess who got their shop on??  This girl!

market- those green bottles on the bottom are grape leaves- delicious!  

So the "call to worship" (done 5x's a day) was much louder here than in Ankara because it is less congested so you really hear it.  I went to my first mosque in Turkey while in Beypazari.  I had to remove my shoes but didn't have to wear a head covering.  Very beautiful building.

I think this street pup is trained better than some of our American pets!  He's got the skill for begging down pat!

So the city was on route as part of the Silk Road used to transport goods across parts of Asia and was occupied by many different people and therefore has a lot of historic value. (Hittites, Phrygians, Byzantines, Seljuks, and Ottomans)  These were carvings in Arabic inscriptions uncovered in Beypazari.  

I learned that their wealth could be determined by the number of windows a house had- the more windows, the richer the family because it cost more to insulate.  

Shake it like a Donkey with Parkinson’s

Anyways, I’m still trying to learn how to adapt to a few things.  Found myself in what could have been a very “interesting” situation one evening because of my lack of knowledge on their cultural practices when going out…

I went out with a few people… 

We needed somewhere to sit and I thought I could score us these great seats that were closed off for a table upstairs which looked to be the VIP section.  So I walked up to someone who spoke English and asked for their boss… 

Let’s just say I worked my “magic” and we got our table upstairs…

We finally ended up at a dancing place were they were playing horrible techno music and these Turkish girls were all lined up against a mirrored wall watching themselves.  Omg… it was hilarious. If I had thought of it at the time, I would have taped it on my iPhone to share with all of you. 

So I get the brilliant idea to try to go dance with them. Hahaha.

Every time I would even walk up to the dance floor all the girls would leave.

But I’m an American. And I have no shame, especially after a few drinks.  So I just danced by myself.  Then my friends joined. 

But then I took a break and the Turkish would girls go back up to the dance floor… you would have thought I had herpes or something contagious…

I decided that the Techno SUCKED (which it does)… so I went to the DJ and asked him to play AKON?? Lmao.  At least he spoke English. 

So I started to “Shake it like a Donkey with Parkinson’s” with my friends on the dance floor like I would at any American club, which would usually get me a free round of drinks and a life supply of beef.

This, however, got the owners undesired attention awaiting our departure from the corner of his very expensive bar…. And a small riot of men waiting to throw stones…  No I’m only joking about the latter part, it was the women who were pissed that their men were starring. 

I wanted to explain to the owner that in America, this was seen as a ritual mating dance and that I was really sorry for any misunderstanding, I just had some junk in my trunk and I was trying to shake it out. 

I thought it best to just leave by saying thanks. 

Don’t worry Daddy. I was safe the whole time.  I was with guys twice my age. 

But my conclusion to this experience was that I was left confused about the cultural lines for women in their society…  Just after I thought I had it figured out… Some things were VERY clear.  No sexy dancing. Check.  (I still wish someone had friggin’ briefed me about this I wouldn’t have put myself out there like any 20 something American who goes dancing)  But that makes sense why the girls in the clubs looked like idiots dancing by themselves when we walked into the club…

But in this culture, they obviously react to some kinds of female interaction or I couldn’t have scored us that money table upstairs with the view overlooking the street… 

Distinctions still need to be made as to where the line is drawn in the sand.  Jury’s out.  More to report later.  Cheers.

Low point: I now have the world’s most famous nose ring.

When I write my tell-all book, my nose ring will be worth as much as Janet Jackson nipple rings, for the diplomatic society.

I was invited to the Ambassador’s estate on Friday evening to meet certain individuals who were in town and instructed very closely on what to wear: suit, very formal and look very conservative because their would be Turkish men at the event- oh and my nose… yes.  Could I take that out for the evening?  It probably isn’t ideal for the standard, conservative look… epic.

Oh yes.  My face was glowing, red with embarrassment.  Hot cheeks.  I could feel the blood rushing to them… humiliation and then… a bit of anger… just a smidge.  Okay, a little more than that.  I can’t say I wasn’t surprised because I’m working I’m a conservative circle of people, but perhaps these officials were not busy enough or you haven’t grasped the concept of “official diplomacy” since they had time to write it down in an official email.

In America we are fortunate enough to have the freedom to pierce, stab, tattoo, and penetrate and part of our body however we want.  And we take it that job serious!

Don’t believe me?  Walk into any homeroom in public schools across America.  Or just watch the kids lined up in at the cinema waiting for the newest Twilight saga.  My personal fav…  Little freaks.

I think there comes a time in every boring person’s life, when they have to let go of any self-identifying factors that make them unique and conform to societies cookie-cutter image of subservient blue-collared labor.  I however, have not said that would be today.  Or tomorrow.  And yes, I still plan on teaching four-year olds the f-bomb for fun.  (See earlier post for reference if you are finding yourself confused). 

And yet… I submit to my authorities requests and removed the nose ring (currently, the world’s most famous nose ring). 

But when I arrived at the dinner that was the first thing my boss checked- MY NOSE!  So naturally, I asked for a copy of his email…

I think it’s only fair.  I think I’m considering submitting this with the nose ring whenever it does go up for auction, because I think it will help to increase the value and verify the integrity of the item.  I plan on trying to sell it as a collector’s item if this incident ever repeats and then I will have more than one nose ring for the collection. 

I have nothing further to say about my nose.

Absolem's O's

I’ve decided to loosen up my office with a construction worker’s uniform tomorrow.  Not the sexy Halloween kinds you wear, but the site ones with big orange reflectors and hard helmets.  This is because here’s my favorite phrase, which is starting to require a hard helmet to hear: “Here’s some ‘constructive criticism’ for you…”

This has been making my workday harder to bear, which means down time becomes necessary to enjoy…

I wound up at a sketchy, hookah bar where they don’t talk and play board games like backgammon and rummi…  We were scooted into the basement where it was dimly lit and people were smoking and sitting around tables. 

My friend pointed out that we were the only girls, an observation I hadn’t made myself, but now it made sense.  Perhaps this was more of a “gentleman’s club.”  I didn’t really know.

We sat down and ordered tea and coffee and chai and hookahs and began to play. 

The boys in came around in basement and gave you hot coals with metal tongs when your coals went out. 

I felt like I was in a James Bond movie or some American Gangster movie where men in blue jackets with big white lettering where going to come pounding in the door on any moment and make arrests. 

 And yet… I had a blast playing the games but I did feel like everyone was starring at me—because they were…

Note to self: when hitting the hookah around new co-workers in the future, don’t blow perfect smoke “O’s” like Absolem in Alice in Wonderland… you might start to give yourself away.  I just got really excited, seeing as I was finally better at something than anyone else, I temporarily forgot its implications.

I quickly remembered when everyone in the room was starring at me like I had just thrown a baby in traffic.

Smoking hookah in sexist, dark, sketchy pub while playing backgammon? Check.  

iPhone Photos of Ankara Bazaar

Filet-O-Fish

Tonight was my first evening dining at a “fancy” restaurant in Ankara.  When my friend and I arrived at the restaurant we approached an enclosed, wooded series of gently sloping stone steps.  Super adorable and tucked away from the traffic on the main road.  It was located just a block from my apartment and was called Dafne (aka Daphne).  It was lit with little LED lights glowing from the little snow that hadn’t yet melted. The door was left friendlily open so we randomly wandered up a set of old wooden stair linking us to the dining room…

It had pale, green tinted walls, with thick architecturally wood accents.  It looked similar to a ski cabin, as my friend pointed out, with the fire roasting across the room. 

I ate the most delicious food of my life... 

The best olives and hummus and salad: comprised of sliced onions and lettuce and the richest olive oil tomatoes and cucumbers. 

Describing it won’t do it justice.  It was Baby Jesus’ salad in a bowl, served with olive oil.  Perhaps it was the same olive oil Mary used to anoint Jesus with, or at least a distant relative…   

Speaking of Baby Jesus... I also hear this region has lots of Biblical sites to see, being part of the Fertile Crescent and such…  My friend commented on a theory that I believe I may try to observe in nature and then adapt as my own because I absolute love it and find it brilliant: 

She noted that people use name of the god in vain to whom they believe—example:  I say GD!  People here swear by hula-hula-hula, in like a really low gargly voice.  I guess it’s short for Allah, ie: their god. 

Totally love this observation and what it may say for atheists or agnostics…  Who do they curse to???

And yet I digress, but it’s my blog, so what the hell!  (Haha! I guess hell is a universal truth, because everyone swears to that!)

Anyways: (Scene change) back at restaurant pre dinner… and scene…

We drank a bottle of red wine indigenous to Turkey called Yakut.  Apparently the story goes that the Sheraton hotel is architecturally modeled after a wine bottle because it used to be a vineyard.  Yakut is supposed to be the wine from the vines that grew on that vineyard... Or so the story goes. Lol. 

The Sheraton hotel does look like a wine bottle, but I don’t read Turkish (quickly becoming a common theme in my blogs) so I couldn’t confirm or deny if these where true statements by, say, reading the back of the wine label or asking my delightful server. 

It’s possible that this is one of those fables that people try to get the newbie’s to buy into like “Elevator Passes” for a one-floor school.  I bought one K-12, so naturally I’d have my reservations. 

For dinner I ordered the fish special since I was told that was the best thing on the menu.  Naturally I have caviar taste, so I agreed the fish would be a perfect choice.

My friend prepared me before hand that the fish would be served whole—or with head and tail still on it… which meant you would have to fillet the fish yourself.  Something I have never done before. 

When the fish arrived, it looked beautiful.  Grilled, steamed and dead, but damn gorgeous.  Totally get why American’s don’t want to do that much work to eat—because we’re effing lazy! 

Making sure I wasn’t too obvious that I had no clue what I was doing and was observing my gracious opposite table counterpart, step-by-step, with her knife and fork, I gently moved my knife along the fish “filleting” him like a pro! 

I was expecting the characteristic Pretty Woman moment when I sent the head of my fish flying across the room and my waiter caught it, or worse in my case, it would end up staring in someone’s lap… regrettably, I have no embarrassing moment to confess except my successful first filleted fish!  (Of which kind of fish I don’t know, because, again, I don’t speak Turkish… But it was delicious.)

Throughout the meal, the old “Filet-O-Fish” Superbowl commercial line from several years ago, kept finding it’s way into my less than subtle banter. 

We also a traditional Turkish drink, which is good luck when eaten with fish, called Raki.  It was served in small clear glasses and the drink was clear.  When you added water, it bubbled a bit and magically became opaque!  It tastes a bit like Sambuca but not as sweet or syrupy. 

I had great conversation and it was great to meet someone else in Turkey my age.  When we left, because my friend left such a generous “American” tip, they brought us a complimentary fruit platter with pomegranates, apples, kiwi, oranges, tangerines and more… The service was amazing—side note from an over critical, previous server, and worth the money.