Coming home (kindof)

Tuesday was rather absurd. I said multiple times (and in multiple languages) that we should spend the day walking around the city and head to the airport around 6 to catch our 11 pm flight. Eka was having none of it. We had breakfast at our hotel and then went out to the Spice Bazaar. We went out walking a little bit in the morning. I wanted to walk around the Golden Horn, but Eka complained that she had finished her shopping and so wanted nothing more from this country. Sooooooo we walked for only an hour. She wanted to go back to the hotel around 11 am, and I protested so we ended up sitting on a bench in front of Hagia Sophia for an hour.

I’d love to sketch a comic strip about what we observed while we were there. There was this really fat cat on the bench across from us, and people seemed to love it. First, a man came and sat next to it, petting it while he eavesdropped on the man next to him. Then he left and a girl ran up to hug the cat. The cat ran away to a man who was messily eating corn-on-the-cob, but the girl followed. She picked it up and carried it back to the park bench, where she continued to hug it. When she left, a food-cart worker gave the cat a pretzel. Then a very large couple sat down and the cat sidled up next to the man until it was under his elbow. The man was less than amused until his wife noticed the cat and scooped it up like a baby. Then he asked us to take a picture of the three of them. The cat stalked birds and pretzels as it was stalked by giggling girls and long-haired guitar players. What a saga!

We went back to the hotel around noon. We spent an hour drinking coffee there and then went off to the airport. That journey took 1 hour and the last of our Turkish money. We then had 10 hours to wait in the airport. I had a book, but Eka had nothing. I also had my laptop, an apple, and such exhaustion from last night that I was able to nap. Eka complained about having so much time, and I almost took out more money so that we could eat something or drink something or just do something other than sit at the gate. But then I remembered that we were wasting what could have been an extra day in Istanbul sitting in an airport because she couldn’t be bothered pretending to be interested in a new culture…so I didn’t take any money out. She sat and was bored; I read and was bored. It was ridiculous. Guess I deserve it for not standing up for myself and insisting we spend the day in the city. Oh well.

We got to Tbilisi around 6 am and I'm not proud to say that I then slept until 2. We went out for dinner with Eka's friends, but we didn't stay out too late. Then the next day (yesterday!?!) we left Tbilisi at 6:30 am and were in Oni by 1. I met up with Alex, who told me that Giorgi has gone off to the military but that he would be happy to race horses with me today. So today I waited...but he didn't come. I got a lot of writing done, but now I'm not allowed out tomorrow because the house needs to be cleaned for a New Year's party. I explained that a friend may bring a horse tomorrow because he couldn't today. Maguala said that if he didn't come today than I don't want to ride horses with him. I guess she has a point...if I was a Georgian girl looking for a husband it would be smart to play hard-to-get. BUT I'm not. I just want to race horses, even if the boy whose borrowing the horses from his cousin isn't sure exactly what day/time he'll come. Ummmm...Happy almost New Year!

Vipikrob

A bit of a strange day. Eka and I went to Taksim to finish shopping for gifts. Every time I’ve thought that we were finished, she’s suggested that we buy something for someone else. What a totally different idea of how to spend a vacation! We were back at the hotel by 4 and I still had a lot of energy. Then Yavuz facebooked and asked if I would want to meet again. Rogor ara! So first Eka and I watched “From Prada to Nada” with our last night of Wi-Fi. Then she went to bed and I went out to meet Yavuz (around 7).

We walked all the way to the bridge to Asia, stopping along the way to study. He told me about a palace, about Ataturk, about New Years in Istanbul…We talked about pretty much everything. Then he fed me mussels stuffed with rice (a very popular street food) because I didn’t know how to eat them. I thought back to when one of my students gave me chestnuts two months ago and I had to ask Matsatso how to eat them. At the time, I was embarrassed to be asking such a question. I’ve asked it so many times since, that this time was more hilarious than embarrassing. We admired New Year’s decorations and told stories and sat on a bus and watched the water of the Bosporus from a park until decided to go to one of the most famous hookah bars in the city. There we had rose-mint hookah and Turkish tea made with milk (and cinnamon? It’s apparently a regional special from Eastern Turkey). When we did decide to go home, we found that our bridge was closed. The nice policeman explained that we would have to walk to the next bridge. While we weren’t opposed to spending a little more time walking around Istanbul and admiring her night-lights, walking to this bridge required walking through a rather shady neighborhood. Yavuz admitted that—while he wouldn’t be nervous alone—he was a little on edge walking there with me because gypsies live there. It can be a dangerous place, he said. But we made it through ok. Maybe I’ll see him again someday. Maybe. It would be nice.

At the hotel, I had to ask for a spare key at the front desk because I left the one we were given with Eka and she was sleeping. The man at the desk asked where I was from, and we talked a little bit about how he was from Capadocia but had lived in Chicago for a little while. While there, he worked for Six Flags. He liked working there. He said that he would love to give every Turkish child a chance to go to such a place because there aren’t such big amusement parks in Turkey. He liked Chicago and he liked the people. But I was a little disturbed at one point because he said, “Only 4 people told me, ‘Go home and work there. Here there are Americans without jobs.” I apologized for such ignorance. What makes my country special (supposedly) is that it’s a land of immigrants. I doubt that any of the people who told my new friend “go home” are 100% Native American or related to the first pilgrims. How quickly we forget who and where we came from! My friend wasn’t upset, though. He said that he saw many people each day and that the ones who said such things were usually teenagers who didn’t know any better. I wish this consoled me the way it consoled him…

 He was a character. He was surprised by how young I am, and he asked why I would possibly want to live in Georgia. He became very serious and told me, “You should stay a little while if you want, but then you must go home and get married.” Suddenly everyone wants me to get married. And they say this in the same breath that they say I’m a child. Ummm…how about I spend a little time being single and independent and a young woman (gogo I can deal with, but bavshvi gets tiring after a while…). *sigh*

Merry Christmas! (So relieved not to have to think up a title!)

Merry Christmas! We got up early and walked to Taksim in search of a Catholic church. We got a little lost, but it was ok. We went to Saint Anthony of Padua church. I read that it’s run by Italian brothers and that one of the popes used to preach there. It’s also the oldest and biggest neo-classical (I think) church in Istanbul, so I wanted to go. What a surprise when we arrived! The congregation was mostly Phillipino women and Nigerian men. Not a problem, but very interesting. And now Eka thinks that Catholic churches always sing “Happy Birthday, Jesus” as part of their Christmas service. I have to say, it was rather fun to sing “Feliz Navidad” with such a diverse group of people and their equally diverse voices! After the service, Eka asked about the sign of the cross (Orthodox Christians touch their right shoulders first and always use three fingers together) and then for a picture with the crèche. Merry Christmas.

Being in Taksim, we went shopping after church. Last night, I had arranged to meet Yavuz by the tower (Galata tsikhe) between 12 and 1. We waited there for a big, then Eka got bored with waiting, so she went shopping alone while I waited by the tower until 2. It was strange when I realized that Yavuz wasn’t coming (so I thought…turns out he was there around 2 and I passed him as I was leaving), because I had to wait there for Eka anyway (even though I suspected she might be lost). Good thing I like people-watching. And of all the places to be stood-up, this was one of the more interesting ones so everything was ok.

Eka and I had salad for dinner again. On the walk home, she stopped and paid a man with a scale 25 cents (lira’s cents…I’m not sure what they’re called) to weigh her. She keeps complaining that she’s “big.” I keep explaining that those are called muscles, that they happen when one eats salad and exercises, and that they’re a good thing even though they’re heavier than fat. We walked a bit more, then we went back to the hotel and I was able to skype my parents and grandparents for Christmas. It’s the first time in a long time that I’ve had good enough internet to think about skyping anyone.

After skyping my family, I facebooked Yavuz. We arranged to meet up later in the evening. Because Eka was tired, it would just be us two. So Eka and I watched The Red Violin, which was excellent but in at least 5 languages so it required a lot of concentration…then I got dressed and headed out…

By “got dressed,” I mean that I put on earrings. Eka told me to make my hair pretty, and when I did she said that I’m a good girl for being beautiful. In New York, putting on earrings and twisting a braid into my hair hardly counts as getting dressed-up. Here, though, and with Eka, it’s the most dressed-up I’ve been in ages. Maybe I’ll paint my nails for New Years…people would be shocked J

Yavuz and I walked around Taksim, scoping out markets, talking, and just enjoying the lights. This was my first time being out alone (without chaperone, parents/host-parents, students, police, or curious neighbors) in ages, and I can’t begin to explain how sweet the air was. Yavuz and I talked about politics and poetry, friendship, cultural exchanges, language, beer, marriage, art…qvelaperi da dzalian bednieri viqavi! He walked me home around 1 and I decided that—beautiful as Istanbul is—breathing the night air of Istanbul for a few free hours will be what I miss most about my time here.

Christmas Eve in Istanbul

We’ve been saving our trip to Topkapi Palace for a rainy day. Today is Christmas Eve, and I was surprised to wake up to snow this morning. The snow soon let up, and it began to rain ever so lightly. So off we went to the palace…

I was delighted. I think this is the first place we’ve been that was enough of a museum that I could learn something about the history of the buildings while admiring them. It is also the first place we’ve been where Eka was very interested. We walked in with two tall men wearing turbans and two men in suits whom I think were their body-guards. A few people took pictures of them, and I can’t help but wonder if they were politicians I don’t know. We walked around a huge yard, trying to figure out how to avoid being in the galleries while the school groups were in them. First we went into a room where the sultan’s advisors used to meet before reporting to him. Then we began going through a series of treasuries. The craftsmanship was incredible. There was so much gold and there were so many diamonds, emeralds, and rubies! The bejeweled sultans’ possessions included a suit of armor, weapons, writing boxes, flasks, candlesticks, a bow and arrow, a cradle, thrones, flasks…and of course jewelry. My favorite piece actually was not made of gold, and it didn’t have many jewels. It was a throne made of dark wood and inlaid with mother-of-pearl. It was stunning. I should say that many pieces in the collection were not made in Turkey. They were either pieces stolen in wars or pieces given as gifts to the royal family.

There was one special treasury gallery that I’m still not sure how to feel about. The doorway was elaborately decorated, and there was a sign (next to the usual “no pictures” sign) asking that visitors please dress appropriately. It was the treasury of relics. If I’m to believe what I read, we saw Moses’ staff, Abraham’s turban, body parts of different saints, pieces of Muhammad’s beard and Muhammad’s swords. I have no reason not to believe, really, but I never in my life expected to walk into a palace museum and find myself staring at Moses’ staff. I’m just not sure how to process such a thing. This gallery was decorated the whole way through, and there was a man reading verses from the Koran into a microphone. His voice echoed through the different rooms of the gallery, even over the voices of all of the visitors (and there were many).

After the treasury of relics, we walked through the armory and then through a gallery dedicated to Sultans’ clothing made from Italian fabrics. We finished up with the sun still shining brightly overhead, so we walked out through part of the palace garden. I would love to see this garden in the summer. The part we saw was lovely even without the flowers. And even more than missing flowers, I just miss walking through parks. In Oni, I can walk through nature (with a man or with a handful of stones in case I meet a bear or a bride-napping party, or so I’m advised). I can sit under the grapevines in the garden at our house. But I miss being in a park, where I can read and people-watch and maybe chance to meet a friend. It’s different. There’s no need for it in Oni, but still…

Then we went off to a shopping mall in search of Eka’s favorite Turkish clothing store. It’s been a while since I’ve been in a mall. As if I needed a reminder that I hate shopping. At least being with Eka while she shops in interesting because she’s good company. But really…I hate malls.

We were home pretty early, but I facebooked Yavuz. He agreed to meet us for coffee, and we had a really great time together. He was very curious about Georgia and its language. We talked about the US and about all the places we’ve lived (combined, we’ve lived in 7 countries and speak just as many languages). We talked about university systems and history and food...it was so refreshing to have intellectually stimulating conversation again.

When Eka and I went back to our hotel, we watched “Heartbreaker,” which was a really cute French romantic comedy about a man who breaks-up couples for a living. She likes those goofy romantic dramas that I usually have no patience for, but we don’t get to watch movies often in Oni so having movie-time together each night is really nice. Then I sent a few emails (I so appreciate internet access!), and we went to bed before midnight.

Wie me, ra LAMAZIA!

We decided to visit the Hagia Sophia museum today. We went without a guide—in part because we’re on a budget and in part because we wouldn’t have known what language to ask for a guide in. English? German? Russian? Ra vitsit? I will come back someday and take a tour with a guide, but for now it was lovely just to be there. I should say that the guards were barely guards. It was a bit shocking to pay 20 lira to enter and then find that there were cats, pigeons, flash photographers, screaming children…everything one doesn’t want in a “museum”/ “church”/ “mosque”…and then there were very few signs to guide tourists around the huge beautiful building. We followed tours and eavesdropped, but what a poor excuse for a museum! Hagia Sophia is obviously historic and important…so put up signs and kick out the cats or else call it a gorgeous landmark instead of a museum.

The building was beautiful. In the very front was a “Madonna with Child” mosaic, and on the top floor were several beautiful golden mosaics. At least, I’m pretty sure they were mosaics. Maybe they were frescoes; I couldn’t get close enough to tell. We heard one of the guides explain that many more of the walls and ceilings have similar decorations, but the mosaics were covered with plaster as part of an old conservation effort and they have yet to be uncovered.

From Hagia Sophia, we decided to go to the Blue Mosque. This was interesting. First, there were no tour brochures in English. It wasn’t a problem; I took one in German and Eka took one in Russian. This was strange though: the only brochure in English was about understanding Islam and learning to respect it. Coincidence?

When visiting mosques, one must not wear shoes. Ar sheidzleba. I’m ok walking around in my socks, but Georgians tend to be rather particular about their feet. As in, they seem to have a national phobia of being barefoot or even walking around in socks. So Eka took slippers from the hotel and wore them into the mosque.

I was again a bit shocked: how many tourists were walking around in the center—where we were asked not to go out of respect for the people trying to pray—and taking pictures of the praying people! How disrespectful! The building was stunning. Eka and I just stood there, staring at the ceiling in awe. This was her first time inside a mosque, and she was very touched to see the small room in which a group of women were studying together. I have been in a mosque before, but it was very different. In Berlin, we went into a mosque with one of my classes. That mosque was small, plain, and somewhat hidden in the back of a courtyard. In Istanbul, the mosques are huge and ornate. This particular one is absolutely huge, and it’s famous for its decorative tiles and arabesque-covered ceiling. It was breath-taking.

The muezzins in Istanbul (or the recordings of the muezzins’ prayer calls) are not quite in sync. This means that whenever the call to prayer rings out across the city, each mosque starts at a slightly different moment. The result is something like a round. Most people don’t stop what they’re doing to pray, but we did notice that shopkeepers would turn off their radios. And a few shopkeepers did close their doors and kneel down to pray right next to their windows.

Later, we went shopping (I’m noticing a pattern) and then we returned to the hotel. Thanks to our Wi-Fi, we watched “Maid in Manhattan” and Eka was rather pleased. Kargi gogo var. Dzalian. I’m doing a pretty decent job seeing what I want in Istanbul, keeping my host-mother happy, and ignoring her comments about how the Turkish language makes the already unattractive people sound like turkeys. Anyone want to teach me how to teach cultural tolerance? Please?

Nationalism makes things complicated...

Today, our legs were a bit sore but we read in the forecast that this was supposed to be the last day of good weather for a while. At first, I wanted to take a ferry to Princes Islands. But with a rainy afternoon forecasted, sore legs, and a travel buddy who’s afraid of water (because she doesn’t know how to swim), I decided it would be better to minimize our boating and mountain climbing (on the island, we would then have hiked to a monastery) for the day. And maybe for the trip. So instead we took a ferry across the Bosporus to the Asian side of Istanbul: Kadikoy. We found a bustling shopping district, and Eka was delighted to get many people checked off her gift list. Being American, my ideas of gifts to bring home are a bit different from hers. When I think “gifts from Istanbul,” I think fabrics, spices, coffee, tiles, and lucky eyes…pretty “Turkish” things. Being from Oni (and buying for people from Oni), Eka sees all of those things as highly impractical. She wants to buy thermal leggings, sweaters, hair clips, hats, gloves, and tea for her friends, because these are the kinds of things that one can’t buy in Oni.

At first, Eka wasn’t thrilled about going to Asia. But we had a lot of fun and I think she’s glad that we went. While we were walking around, we saw many interesting things. For example, there was a graveyard with cat-houses in it. Istanbul has many many stray cats. It has cats the way Oni has dogs, but the Istanbul cats are surprisingly well-treated. People pet them and feed them, so they’re very fearless and fat. As amusing as I thought it was to see cat-houses in between gravestones, the Turks thought it was amusing to see that I was so amused by this.

As we continued walking, it started to rain. We passed a blue building with a huge picture of Ataturk on it, and I stopped for a picture…Then the rain picked up so we ducked into a café for shelter. We had baklava and coffee, and we talked about our impressions of the city.

I’m learning that the Georgians don’t think highly of the Turks; however, today we experienced a bit of Turkish “anti-Kurd” sentiment over dinner. We stopped for sandwiches on our way home, and of course the waiter asked where we were from. Eka said America, and he stared at her for a moment and then left. He came back with a scarf in his hand and started trying to explain to Eka that he wanted her to change her scarf. Now Eka was wearing this very pretty white and grey scarf that she had received as a gift from a German friend. The man pointed to my scarf and said that it was perfect, and then he said that her scarf is not welcome in Turkey because it looks Kurdish. Eka retorted that she likes her scarf, that it was a gift, and that as a foreigner she doesn’t have any problem with the Kurds. As the man opened his mouth to protest, I commented to her that—even with all the anti-Turkish sentiment in Berlin—no German ever told me to stop wearing my bracelet made of Turkish eyes.

Our first night in Istanbul, we ran into two Georgian men who live and work in Istanbul. We had tea with them and talked for a while, and they were very kind. Eka was glad to speak Georgian, and they gave her their cell phone numbers so that she could call and arrange to meet up sometime before we leave. As an American, I would have jumped on that opportunity. But Georgian women (or maybe just Rachulian women) are very shy about such things, so we probably won’t see them again. That day, Eka had been a little put off by how many shop-keepers guessed that she was Turkish. Then when we talked to these men, they commented that the people in Istanbul don’t like people from the Caucuses. Considering the history that the Turks have with the Armenians (which, to be fair, I know only a little about), maybe there is some truth in this. However, Eka has stopped wearing so much make-up so that she doesn’t look as dark. Now people don’t guess that she’s Turkish anymore; they guess that she’s Italian almost every time. When people ask where we’re from, she says America. She told her mom about this over the phone and the explanation she gave translates to “People here must not know I’m Georgian. They’ll kill a Georgian. They really don’t like us!” Where on Earth she got that idea, I haven’t a clue. One shopkeeper told her today that her face doesn’t look American, and I will admit that I was a little angry about such a comment because it’s total nonsense. I’m rather uncomfortable, though. How can she walk around disliking a people for disliking her people when she isn’t taking the chance to know them or giving them a chance to really know her?!? It makes no sense.

First Full Day

Today we had beautiful sunny weather, so we went walking. The European side of Istanbul has two sides. It’s divided by the “Golden Horn,” so today we walked across the bridge to the Northern part of the European half of Istanbul. To get to the bridge, we walked through both the Grand Bazaar and the Spice Bazaar. Then, on the bridge, we passed many many fishermen…and one burqua’d fisherwoman. I wish I had taken a picture…

We went to Galata tower, but we decided not to go up. Then we got lost looking for Taksim…It was ok, though, because we ended up walking past a university with a sculpture park (I was very interested!) and through an old mosque. Then we took the tram back to our side of the bridge. We went shopping for gifts, ate salads again, and drank (free!) coffee at our hotel. We were back at the hotel fairly early, but I’m not feeling sick anymore so everything is goooood! The hotel has breakfast every morning and tea/coffee the rest of the time in a room on the very top floor. From there (as from our bedroom, remarkably) one can sit and look out on the Sea of Marmara. It’s beautiful.

I took another hot shower after our coffee. Then I found “The Butter Battle Book” on YouTube J The internet won’t let me upload pictures, but it’s nice to have facebook and Google somewhat regularly. And Eka can look up city guides in Georgian! Which, to be honest, is something I never considered before: if one speaks a lesser-known language and lives in a country that people weren’t able to freely travel from until recently, it must be very difficult to find travel advice. Eka can manage in Russian and German, but it’s still nice to have resources in one’s native tongue.

And it would be nice to have enough internet to share photos with you.