My Students

Today I had to get a criminal record check for Turkey. For whatever reason, the HR person that helps me on these errands seems to believe that most professional offices employ people that speak English. To her surprise I have reported back that neither the bank, nor the Department of Justice has "inglizce insanlar" a good working knowledge of English...But then again where is my Turkish, anyway? (I don't think that "inglizce insanlar" works for people that know English, anyway)

Luckily today I ran into two students, students that failed my course and were at prep school. They helped me find the Department of Justice (well, asked for directions) negotiated AT the Department of Justice, and paid for my English translation (5 TL). I'm not sure why my student paid but he ran off soon after and refused to take my money.

They also told me in their awesome (but still broken - they did fail) English that I should learn Turkish. The student that stuck around took me for coffee and after finding out how much I paid for Turkish school, and how much I make as a teacher, decided that she should have taught me Turkish. She then asked me to write a letter in English about her and all the motivational slogans I know in English (thank you Lululemon aluminum water bottles).

She wants to go to Canada (maybe) I want to go home (maybe). My dad was sick this year and it was difficult. Something is wrong in her family, but I'm not sure she has the language or wants to talk about it. We agreed "all people have problems". I taught her the word "thumb" she taught me how to say "don't touch". I think she has a learning disability and I am not sure how she'll raise her level of written English to a university level. I don't know how to tell someone this. I'm better off teaching body parts and motivational quotes.

The Dinosaur Bone

My friend has become very involved with animal welfare over here. She came into contact with a group called Lets Adopt and, via this group, with some community members fostering sick, injured and abandoned stray animals. For the past year she has fostered cats, but lately has expanded into taking in dogs. Benek 1 (Turkish for Spot) went to live in Germany about a month ago with her new family. Benek 2, Benek 1's replacement, was hit by a car in her recent past and her broken leg was never fixed properly. She walks mostly on her three good legs and can run, but her bad leg eventually trips her up.

The addition of Benek 2 into the community has also resulted in my friend making a lot of new friends. Young children, for whatever reason, are drawn to this dog. You cannot take her out without being followed by 2 or 3 of the local kids. Benek is incredibly tame and patient with the poking, prodding and dragging around by teams of 6 - 8 year olds.

A special attachment has been fostered with one of the little boys in our building, he's an only child and about 6. He has become the president of the Benek fan club. He goes over to my friends place every day at 5 for the evening walk. If she cannot take Benek out, he waits. A phone call yesterday about what to do when the 6 year old in your house has extended his welcome was an issue few 25 year olds deal with on a regular basis. "You're 25, he is 6"... "yes" ... "tell him to go home?" ... "nicely?"

The point of this story, aside from trying to remember this stuff before moving back to less communally minded Canada, was the gigantic bone in front of our house.

Benek loves bones. I think it must be part of the stray in her, because she loves garbage, especially bones. She fixates on her "treasure" unlike any dog I've met in Canada (because Canadian dogs have never seen  a cold and hungry night or met a nasty person ... for the most part). She eats the bones, they make her sick, she eats grass, she pukes. It's a nasty vicious cycle. If we keep her away from the bones she lies down and throws a temper tantrum - tantrum being she refuses to move and has to be picked up.

This problem has been amplified by the appearance of a gigantic bone in front of our house. Our 6 year old friend insists that it came from space and is a dinosaur bone. It looks like a cow bone. But how did a cow bone end up in the middle of a compound in the middle of a university?

Letting it all go

Yesterday we started the final process of moving out of this place. Yard Sale Time !

Here there are early birds, like any yard sale at home, except there is a language and cultural barrier (although I think there exists a "language and cultural" barrier anywhere between those that frequent yard sales and those that do not) between those that speak Turkish and those that do not, and those that have spent their lives bargaining and haggling and those that have not.

It's hard watching all of the nice things you've purchased for yourself perused, watching a woman decide that the lamps your boyfriend sweetly bought for you when he started staying over on a regular basis (so you could both read your books in adequate light) were only worth 8 TL (for both) from the asking price of 10 TL. That's about $2.50 CND.

The pillows I bought from another person leaving last year, which I never bought cases for and went unused - I got my asking price for those.

The blanket I bought when I moved into my apartment and had no bedding, which was purchased on one of my first tentative trips into the city, went to a friend.

The computer bag I got from my boss when I left my job in Vancouver went to Amy, who is staying, and could use a good bag. I didn't want to take her money, but she insisted.

The hammock I couldn't find a tree for, and had waited to purchase since childhood was worth more than 15 TL, but less than the hassle it would to take home.

The same woman that wouldn't pay 10 TL for my lamps also asked to use my bathroom. I let her. She said God Bless You something like 4 times. I'd rather have the 2 TL, thanks.

Selling and getting rid of things is supposed to be cathartic. In the end I am happy to have some extra cash but I would rather have given my things to a good home.  Yes, it's only stuff, but I would like to imagine my things being used and appreciated by friends, even just people I liked. I don't want my lamps in some cheap persons house.

When you are far from home everything you put into your house usually has a story attached. It's not just pillows, a lamp or a mop. It was a taxi ride, a conversation, a search to find the things you needed.

The End of the Year

We are marking exams all day at school. I am anxiously learning what my group of students can produce when motivated.

When demotivated or bored I know well what they produce.

Sometimes people talk about putting out fires at work in a figurative sense, this year I literally put out fires at work. Usually the fires were not malicious and stemmed from bored students, a long day and a smoking culture that leads to the possession of cigarette lighters by almost everyone.

Also, apparently, there are a lot of things that can be lit on fire: hair, desks, juice boxes, and, to my greatest dismay - newly printed work sheets.

Despite this, I think they actually did pretty well.



"But I don't want to go among mad people," Alice remarked.


"Oh, you ca'n't help that," said the Cat: we're all mad here. I'm mad. You're mad.


"How do you know I'm mad?" said Alice.


"You must be," said the Cat, "or you wouldn't have come here."


Alice's Adventures in Wonderland, Lewis Carroll

Here and There

On Thursday night, a little after midnight, fireworks went off in front of my house. It was a roman candle but it initially sounded like a gun. I hid behind the bed while my boyfriend investigated and attempted to avoid this potential gun fire. After listening for a minute or two I realized it was a roman candle and we were not being shot at ... he went back to sleep while I stared at the ceiling for a half hour at least.

In less than a month I am going back to Canada and he is moving to Afghanistan.

Allah Allah!

I'm on day 3 of mysterious food poisoning ...

At the medical center yesterday the doctor said "I am thinking you are ready to go back to Canada now."

I think I am. I think I am mostly because I miss having a bathtub and easily accessible ramen noodles and McDonalds chicken nuggets ( I don't know why I want to put junk back into my body after essentially doing a master cleanse...but I do. Badly)

I miss calling sick into work and people believing you (or even not believing you) but it counting towards a "personal day" and not requiring a doctors note.

I want my mom to be able to come over to my house, or to be able go to my parents house when I feel crappy vs. receiving frantic skype calls filled with concern over my health (from Facebook updates my mom can still keep pretty good tabs on me) and the situation between the U.S. and Turkey, Israel and Turkey, and Turkey and its Kurdish population.

When I was home last year for a week I wrote:

On the other side of the Pacific (or Atlantic, I suppose depending where you are coming from) I am up again at 4 a.m., or 2:00 p.m. Turkey Time.

Back in Canada I ve noticed some things:

- People do not take as good care of themselves

- People do not take as good care of their stuff (maybe because we have so much)

- The recession has hit most things, ie. most things in your average retail store are 50% off - which, of course, makes me wonder how much these goods actually cost to produce and how much price gouging goes on in better times

- I hate Air Canada

- North America knows how to make junk food - well

- We are boring because we are lucky enough to be boring - stable government, stable currency (more or less) healthcare, social welfare ... it's more fun when you have no idea what tomorrow will bring ( and more stressful)

-The ketchup is sweeter

-My parent's neighbourhood has gone baaaad. Or because I live in a compound I haven't come into contact with homeless people/people on bicycles in 6 months.

-I love my friends. I love my friends that drove an hour and a half to hang out in my living room and dissect our current romantic situation(s)/that time in high school we ....

- I love the mountains!

-I love the ocean!

-I love talking about: yoga, west 4th, kits snobs, yummy mummies, the gays, Davie street,Mixed Martial Arts ... with people who know what I am talking about.

-I actually don't hate my mom's dog. She is quite interested in what I am doing, more interested than my younger brother.

I love Vancouver, but ...

This was over a year ago and Turkey time is coming to a close in a little over a month.

I miss things from home,

still ...