Another multi-cultural evening...this time, involving Polish vodka! Being the light-weight drinker that I am, one shot drowned in cranberry juice was enough for me!
Tonight, I was asked to be kissed by a fellow volunteer. I am always taken off guard in these moments when a man asks if he can kiss me. As I see it, the moment is either there, or it isn't and you both can mutually feel it. The question isn't necessary. I think in each case when I have been asked, the moment has not been there. Therefor, though I appreciate the politeness in asking, if you have to pose the question at all, the timing and chemistry is probably off.
Sunday, September 19, 2010
Educational Theater Project
Right now, I am sitting in the living room of the flat in Balikesir, planning the theater project activities with the other volunteers...icebreakers, energizers, warm-ups, team-building, etc. Really fun collaborating and brainstorming together! So relaxed and easy...I am in Heaven!
The project is called "Patchwork Theater" and was conceptualized by 3 volunteer women (my flatmates). It is funded by the Youth In Action 1.1 project and is a 10 day youth exchange program. It is also the reason that I am in Balikesir!
The project's purpose is to bring together 30 college-age students from 6 European nations (Turkey, Poland, Latvia, Romania, Italy and Germany) to create a series of original short plays which focus on stereotypes and cultural differences. The culmination of this process will result in 2 final performances which will be presented to a total of 600 Turkish middle-school students from both private and public schools. It will also be filmed and televised on local T.V...the pressure's on!
I have been invited to bring my experience and knowledge in theater, dance and all related topics and help direct and develop this project. My goal is to help manifest the beautiful and creative vision of the founders of this project: Ana, Kata and Tati, to it's greatest potential.
Yesterday was the first staff meeting to plan the program with the University. Today, we met with the Turkish participants to help plan their performance piece and tonight we will meet the group from Poland. Tomorrow, most of the other participants arrive and the whole project will kick off. Gulp! Wish me luck!
The project is called "Patchwork Theater" and was conceptualized by 3 volunteer women (my flatmates). It is funded by the Youth In Action 1.1 project and is a 10 day youth exchange program. It is also the reason that I am in Balikesir!
The project's purpose is to bring together 30 college-age students from 6 European nations (Turkey, Poland, Latvia, Romania, Italy and Germany) to create a series of original short plays which focus on stereotypes and cultural differences. The culmination of this process will result in 2 final performances which will be presented to a total of 600 Turkish middle-school students from both private and public schools. It will also be filmed and televised on local T.V...the pressure's on!
I have been invited to bring my experience and knowledge in theater, dance and all related topics and help direct and develop this project. My goal is to help manifest the beautiful and creative vision of the founders of this project: Ana, Kata and Tati, to it's greatest potential.
Yesterday was the first staff meeting to plan the program with the University. Today, we met with the Turkish participants to help plan their performance piece and tonight we will meet the group from Poland. Tomorrow, most of the other participants arrive and the whole project will kick off. Gulp! Wish me luck!
Saturday, September 18, 2010
A Home-Cooked Meal in Turkey
Yesterday, I departed from Istanbul and arrived by 6.5 hour bus ride to the small, western city of Balikesir. The funniest part of the voyage was when I woke up half-way through the trip and saw the sea all around me out the window. Groggy and confused, it took awhile for me to comprehend that I was on a ferry!
Tonight I cooked my first meal in Turkey: Moroccan vegetable stew with couscous, grilled eggplant with garlic, baked French Fries, and Peach Cobbler for dessert. I had plenty of helping hands from my new, temporary flatmates: Ana from Sevilla, Kata from Hungary and Tati from the Ukraine. Another multi-cultural dinner with guests from Turkey, France, Latvia and Estonia...all volunteers here at the University of Balikesir. We had an impressive abundance of red wine and played silly games that I borrowed from summer camp...very fun!
I heard a wise quote from a Latvian girl tonight, which was "Shit happens in life, even a bad experience is an experience." I found that attitude very reassuring!
I also heard a Turkish saying which was tossed my way as a compliment from one Turkish guy to the other, hours after dinner was served and I pulled a tray of hot, homemade fries out of the oven as a late-night snack at about 3am. He said, "May God bless Cara's hands."
And somehow, it made me chuckle to myself, remembering that in Portuguese, my name means "face". In other words, "May God bless the hands of face."
Tonight I cooked my first meal in Turkey: Moroccan vegetable stew with couscous, grilled eggplant with garlic, baked French Fries, and Peach Cobbler for dessert. I had plenty of helping hands from my new, temporary flatmates: Ana from Sevilla, Kata from Hungary and Tati from the Ukraine. Another multi-cultural dinner with guests from Turkey, France, Latvia and Estonia...all volunteers here at the University of Balikesir. We had an impressive abundance of red wine and played silly games that I borrowed from summer camp...very fun!
I heard a wise quote from a Latvian girl tonight, which was "Shit happens in life, even a bad experience is an experience." I found that attitude very reassuring!
I also heard a Turkish saying which was tossed my way as a compliment from one Turkish guy to the other, hours after dinner was served and I pulled a tray of hot, homemade fries out of the oven as a late-night snack at about 3am. He said, "May God bless Cara's hands."
And somehow, it made me chuckle to myself, remembering that in Portuguese, my name means "face". In other words, "May God bless the hands of face."
Thursday, September 16, 2010
First Day in Istanbul
Yesterday, my host Halil woke up before me in the morning, drove to the market on his motorbike for fresh ingredients, and had breakfast ready the minute I rolled out of bed!
My first day in Turkey feels like 3 or 4...so many sights, smells, tastes, sounds, new people all rolled into one...I don't know where to begin! The day began with the previously mentioned breakfast: a ready made omelet, salad with lemon juice dressing, yogurt and bread. Then, I hopped on the back of Halil's red Honda motorbike and we were off for the day, weaving in and out of traffic on hilly, cobblestone streets, cruising along breezy highways with glistening views of the sea, dodging traffic through stone archways and city sidewalks, as the bike occasionally sputtered and Halil called out, "the chain is going to break very soon! I hope not now!". It was both a terrifying and exhilarating experience! All this and with no helmet or protective guard on me...that part I wasn't so crazy about. So, I said a lot of prayers, held tight, and insisted that we buy another helmet the minute I had a chance.
We arrived in the part of town where Halil works at a 4 star hotel and I was left to wander around the grounds of the Blue Mosque and inside of the Hagia Sophia. Walking alone, every where I wandered the shopkeepers called after me, "Excuse me, where are you from?" The first few inquiries made me feel compelled to satisfy their curiosity, but I quickly learned that answering this introductory question opened up a whole can of worms, leading to harassment. Unfortunately, I realized this after one shopkeeper placed his greasy hand on my arm telling me to have tea with him and dinner later. Yuck. So, I rapidly understood that the best tactic to avoid such unpleasant encounters was to walk along impassively and ignore any questions regarding my cultural origin. This resulted in a somewhat comical, domino-effect chorus of "Excuse me, where are you from?" trailing behind me wherever I seemed to go!
At one point in the heat of the early afternoon, I stopped to buy an ice cream cone. After what I found to be an annoying tease of a show, where the vendor keeps pretending to give you the cone on a metal stick and faking you out, he finally placed the cone in my hand and asked "Where are you from, are you Spanish?" No, I answered. To which he replied, "Greek?" No. "Portuguese?" No. "Italian?" No. Baffled, he finally gave me one more quizical look and asked, "Turkish?!" Pleased with my inconspicuousness, I answered finally, "New York", as I walked away...leaving him bewildered.
The rest of my day was a whirlwind of walking all over various streets and neighborhoods of Istanbul with various company including Halil (who I insisted buy a new chain for his motorbike BEFORE it broke), a 24-year old Chinese-American from L.A., and several new Turkish acquaintances through couch surfing. I trekked many miles through this enormous city.
My first day in Turkey feels like 3 or 4...so many sights, smells, tastes, sounds, new people all rolled into one...I don't know where to begin! The day began with the previously mentioned breakfast: a ready made omelet, salad with lemon juice dressing, yogurt and bread. Then, I hopped on the back of Halil's red Honda motorbike and we were off for the day, weaving in and out of traffic on hilly, cobblestone streets, cruising along breezy highways with glistening views of the sea, dodging traffic through stone archways and city sidewalks, as the bike occasionally sputtered and Halil called out, "the chain is going to break very soon! I hope not now!". It was both a terrifying and exhilarating experience! All this and with no helmet or protective guard on me...that part I wasn't so crazy about. So, I said a lot of prayers, held tight, and insisted that we buy another helmet the minute I had a chance.
We arrived in the part of town where Halil works at a 4 star hotel and I was left to wander around the grounds of the Blue Mosque and inside of the Hagia Sophia. Walking alone, every where I wandered the shopkeepers called after me, "Excuse me, where are you from?" The first few inquiries made me feel compelled to satisfy their curiosity, but I quickly learned that answering this introductory question opened up a whole can of worms, leading to harassment. Unfortunately, I realized this after one shopkeeper placed his greasy hand on my arm telling me to have tea with him and dinner later. Yuck. So, I rapidly understood that the best tactic to avoid such unpleasant encounters was to walk along impassively and ignore any questions regarding my cultural origin. This resulted in a somewhat comical, domino-effect chorus of "Excuse me, where are you from?" trailing behind me wherever I seemed to go!
At one point in the heat of the early afternoon, I stopped to buy an ice cream cone. After what I found to be an annoying tease of a show, where the vendor keeps pretending to give you the cone on a metal stick and faking you out, he finally placed the cone in my hand and asked "Where are you from, are you Spanish?" No, I answered. To which he replied, "Greek?" No. "Portuguese?" No. "Italian?" No. Baffled, he finally gave me one more quizical look and asked, "Turkish?!" Pleased with my inconspicuousness, I answered finally, "New York", as I walked away...leaving him bewildered.
The rest of my day was a whirlwind of walking all over various streets and neighborhoods of Istanbul with various company including Halil (who I insisted buy a new chain for his motorbike BEFORE it broke), a 24-year old Chinese-American from L.A., and several new Turkish acquaintances through couch surfing. I trekked many miles through this enormous city.
Wednesday, September 15, 2010
Arrival
After over 16 hours in transit, I arrived in Istanbul around 5pm this evening. After all that anticipation, it feels like a victory.
My flights went smoothly: Denver to Detroit, to Paris, to Istanbul. I sat next to a very friendly, sweet French guy from Toulouse on the flight between Detroit and Paris. He is a student who is just getting back from visiting his girlfriend in Maryland...who is interning on a dairy farm where they make 100 different flavors of ice cream. Sounds like my idea of Heaven! He had been up since 6am making strawberry ice cream! We chatted about various things over white wine, bread and rice pudding. I was impressed with the luxury of the international flight: chairs that recline, complementary wine and bottles of water, and a movie list that would take days to get through... I did learn 2 things from my French flight companion: 1. That some U.S. dairy farms (such as the one he just visited) are finding innovative ways to use cow methane as energy and fuel. 2. That Washington D.C. and other U.S. cities are compressing street garbage to condense the volume.
Next was the flight from Paris to Istanbul, which was my least favorite ride. Why? Because the stench of body odor hung so thickly in the air that it literally took my breath away. I had to stuff my nose deep into a lavender eye pillow I had with me till they turned the A.C. on...and even then it was nauseating. What is the story with French men and deodorant? I am aware that it is not all French men, thank God...but I have encountered this enough to notice it's a trend... Can anyone out there enlighten me? How on earth can French women tolerate this?
When I got into the Istanbul airport, things took a while...buying a Visa, going through customs, baggage claim, etc. Then, I got on a bus to Taksim, the city center. I had to find my couchsurfing host Halil, at what he recommended as the "most-easy-to-find meeting place"...McDonald's. I kid you not, upon stepping off the bus into the heart of Istanbul, one of the cultural capitals of the world, the first words from my lips were..."Where is McDonald's"?
I arrived at my destination 1 city block later. Only problem was, I had not succeeded in getting a Turkish phone card at the airport, due to technical difficulties, so I had no way to call Halil and let him know I had arrived. I had to count on the generosity of strangers in this foreign new city and pick someone out of the busy street crowd who could speak English and would lend me their phone! Luckily I succeeded on my 2nd try, and a nice young woman let me use hers. I called Halil who said he would meet me in 15 min.
I waited outside the McDonald's soft-serve icecream window, willing myself not to buy any (I hate supporting them). Time passed. I watched the plethora of street children, ranging in ages from maybe 4-9...skipping, hopping, playing, begging every one in sight for $ on the busy street at 9pm at night. My heart strings tugged and I longed to buy them all icecream, but I couldn't effectively communicate with them and I also remembered that in many countries it is said that giving to street children is not always constructive, as it encourages them to live a life of dependency as beggars...I didn't feel that I knew enough about it either way...so, I shook my head "no" and kindly smiled at each one who asked...realizing eventually that I would have been hoarded by 6 or 7 or possibly more, had I initiated the gesture.
So, I waited for what seemed to be more like 30-40 min. and no Halil. I admit that a vague wave of anxiety eventually swept over me when I realized maybe he had abandoned me and I would be left homeless, phone-less and without knowledge of where to look for affordable, last minute lodging late at night. This worry motivated me to seek out yet another stranger and bum another phone call to Halil. This time, the kind stranger talked to him directly to confirm the address where I was waiting. Halil said he would be there in 5 min.
5 min. later, a great looking young Turkish guy walked up, asked me if my name was Cara, and told me some name I couldn't understand and said that he couldn't really speak English. Next, a girl walked up with a friendly smile and told me to follow them. So, I did. They offered to help with my baggage, an offer which I declined and then they proceeded to guide me through the cobblestone city streets, always a few paces ahead of me, talking away to each other in intelligible Turkish. I had no idea who they were or where we were going. We went down a very steep hill, at which point the guy insisted on pulling my suitcase. At the bottom of the hill, we came to a gigantic flight of stairs with 3 or 4 tiers. He carried my big, fat, packed-for-2-months suitcase the whole way. Then we entered a building, then more stairs.
I arrived to Halil's apt., realizing my guides were his couch surfing friends and guests for his weekly "kitchen party". I entered the room to find a banquet dinner (casual style, with a newspaper table-cloth) full of guests. It was a multi-cultural potluck feast. My favorite. I was immediately served lentil soup, a spicy salad, mashed potatoes, an invented recipe of salami ratatouille, and for dessert, a French pear and chocolate cobbler. The beverage of the evening was water. The whole meal was completed with a pot of black tea.
My dinner companions were 2 Germans, 5 Turks, 2 Iranians, and 2.5 Parisians. The little one (2 years old) plopped herself in my lap as soon as I was served and began eating off my plate!
By the end of the evening, I had invitations from the 2 Iranians and 2 of the Turks to spend time exploring the city tomorrow, and one kind, young Turkish guy offered me the use of his extra cell phone for my entire stay in Turkey! And when it was time to turn in for the night, I realized that I had been graciously given my host Halil's bedroom, while he opted for the living room floor. Needless to say, I am already moved by the hospitality here.
The guy who carried my luggage turned out to be a very sweet, very shy 18 year old, who is studying to be a ship captain. At one point, he asked me my age and then got incredibly fidgety and embarrassed every time I looked at him or talked to him...which honestly seemed more to do with the fact that I was female, then the fact that I was much older than him!
So there is the account of my arrival in Istanbul. I look forward to my adventures tomorrow!
My flights went smoothly: Denver to Detroit, to Paris, to Istanbul. I sat next to a very friendly, sweet French guy from Toulouse on the flight between Detroit and Paris. He is a student who is just getting back from visiting his girlfriend in Maryland...who is interning on a dairy farm where they make 100 different flavors of ice cream. Sounds like my idea of Heaven! He had been up since 6am making strawberry ice cream! We chatted about various things over white wine, bread and rice pudding. I was impressed with the luxury of the international flight: chairs that recline, complementary wine and bottles of water, and a movie list that would take days to get through... I did learn 2 things from my French flight companion: 1. That some U.S. dairy farms (such as the one he just visited) are finding innovative ways to use cow methane as energy and fuel. 2. That Washington D.C. and other U.S. cities are compressing street garbage to condense the volume.
Next was the flight from Paris to Istanbul, which was my least favorite ride. Why? Because the stench of body odor hung so thickly in the air that it literally took my breath away. I had to stuff my nose deep into a lavender eye pillow I had with me till they turned the A.C. on...and even then it was nauseating. What is the story with French men and deodorant? I am aware that it is not all French men, thank God...but I have encountered this enough to notice it's a trend... Can anyone out there enlighten me? How on earth can French women tolerate this?
When I got into the Istanbul airport, things took a while...buying a Visa, going through customs, baggage claim, etc. Then, I got on a bus to Taksim, the city center. I had to find my couchsurfing host Halil, at what he recommended as the "most-easy-to-find meeting place"...McDonald's. I kid you not, upon stepping off the bus into the heart of Istanbul, one of the cultural capitals of the world, the first words from my lips were..."Where is McDonald's"?
I arrived at my destination 1 city block later. Only problem was, I had not succeeded in getting a Turkish phone card at the airport, due to technical difficulties, so I had no way to call Halil and let him know I had arrived. I had to count on the generosity of strangers in this foreign new city and pick someone out of the busy street crowd who could speak English and would lend me their phone! Luckily I succeeded on my 2nd try, and a nice young woman let me use hers. I called Halil who said he would meet me in 15 min.
I waited outside the McDonald's soft-serve icecream window, willing myself not to buy any (I hate supporting them). Time passed. I watched the plethora of street children, ranging in ages from maybe 4-9...skipping, hopping, playing, begging every one in sight for $ on the busy street at 9pm at night. My heart strings tugged and I longed to buy them all icecream, but I couldn't effectively communicate with them and I also remembered that in many countries it is said that giving to street children is not always constructive, as it encourages them to live a life of dependency as beggars...I didn't feel that I knew enough about it either way...so, I shook my head "no" and kindly smiled at each one who asked...realizing eventually that I would have been hoarded by 6 or 7 or possibly more, had I initiated the gesture.
So, I waited for what seemed to be more like 30-40 min. and no Halil. I admit that a vague wave of anxiety eventually swept over me when I realized maybe he had abandoned me and I would be left homeless, phone-less and without knowledge of where to look for affordable, last minute lodging late at night. This worry motivated me to seek out yet another stranger and bum another phone call to Halil. This time, the kind stranger talked to him directly to confirm the address where I was waiting. Halil said he would be there in 5 min.
5 min. later, a great looking young Turkish guy walked up, asked me if my name was Cara, and told me some name I couldn't understand and said that he couldn't really speak English. Next, a girl walked up with a friendly smile and told me to follow them. So, I did. They offered to help with my baggage, an offer which I declined and then they proceeded to guide me through the cobblestone city streets, always a few paces ahead of me, talking away to each other in intelligible Turkish. I had no idea who they were or where we were going. We went down a very steep hill, at which point the guy insisted on pulling my suitcase. At the bottom of the hill, we came to a gigantic flight of stairs with 3 or 4 tiers. He carried my big, fat, packed-for-2-months suitcase the whole way. Then we entered a building, then more stairs.
I arrived to Halil's apt., realizing my guides were his couch surfing friends and guests for his weekly "kitchen party". I entered the room to find a banquet dinner (casual style, with a newspaper table-cloth) full of guests. It was a multi-cultural potluck feast. My favorite. I was immediately served lentil soup, a spicy salad, mashed potatoes, an invented recipe of salami ratatouille, and for dessert, a French pear and chocolate cobbler. The beverage of the evening was water. The whole meal was completed with a pot of black tea.
My dinner companions were 2 Germans, 5 Turks, 2 Iranians, and 2.5 Parisians. The little one (2 years old) plopped herself in my lap as soon as I was served and began eating off my plate!
By the end of the evening, I had invitations from the 2 Iranians and 2 of the Turks to spend time exploring the city tomorrow, and one kind, young Turkish guy offered me the use of his extra cell phone for my entire stay in Turkey! And when it was time to turn in for the night, I realized that I had been graciously given my host Halil's bedroom, while he opted for the living room floor. Needless to say, I am already moved by the hospitality here.
The guy who carried my luggage turned out to be a very sweet, very shy 18 year old, who is studying to be a ship captain. At one point, he asked me my age and then got incredibly fidgety and embarrassed every time I looked at him or talked to him...which honestly seemed more to do with the fact that I was female, then the fact that I was much older than him!
So there is the account of my arrival in Istanbul. I look forward to my adventures tomorrow!
Sunday, September 12, 2010
Feeling Good
I just booked a trip to Istanbul and Paris. I feel like the image posted at the bottom of this page (scroll down).
Whoa. I turned Pandora Radio on just now, to listen while I write and here's the song that is playing:
"Birds flying high you know how I feel
Sun in the sky you know how I feel
Breeze driftin' on by you know how I feel
It's a new dawn, It's a new day
It's a new life
For me
Feeling good
Fish in the sea you know how I feel
River running free you know how I feel
Blossom on the tree you know how I feel
It's a new dawn, It's a new day
It's a new life
For me
Feeling good
Dragonfly out in the sun you know what I mean
Butterflies all havin' fun you know what I mean
Sleep in peace when day is done
That's what I mean
And this old world is a new world
And a bold world
For me
Stars when you shine you know how I feel
Scent of the pine you know how I feel
Oh freedom is mine
And I know how I feel
It's a new dawn, It's a new day
It's a new life
For me
Feeling good"
(By Michael Buble)
I actually sang this song at the very moment that my 12 year-old niece was born...but that's another story.
And just before that, was this song:
"I'm a new soul
I came to this strange world
Hoping I could learn a bit bout how to give and take.
But since I came here,
Felt the joy and the fear
Finding myself making every possible mistake
la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la...
I'm a young soul
In this very strange world
Hoping I could learn a bit bout what is true and fake
But why all this hate?
Try to communicate
Finding trust and love is not always easy to make
la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la...
This is a happy end
'Cause you don't understand
Everything you have done
Why's everything so wrong?
This is a happy end
Come and give me your hand
I'll take you far away"
(Yael Naim)
And finally, my favorite of all Brazilian songs: "Eu Sou Assim" by Paulinho Da Viola...the lyrics of which, essentially mean, "This is who I am, take it or leave it! I live for today, in the 'now' and I won't carry any regrets with me when I die."
Whoa. I turned Pandora Radio on just now, to listen while I write and here's the song that is playing:
"Birds flying high you know how I feel
Sun in the sky you know how I feel
Breeze driftin' on by you know how I feel
It's a new dawn, It's a new day
It's a new life
For me
Feeling good
Fish in the sea you know how I feel
River running free you know how I feel
Blossom on the tree you know how I feel
It's a new dawn, It's a new day
It's a new life
For me
Feeling good
Dragonfly out in the sun you know what I mean
Butterflies all havin' fun you know what I mean
Sleep in peace when day is done
That's what I mean
And this old world is a new world
And a bold world
For me
Stars when you shine you know how I feel
Scent of the pine you know how I feel
Oh freedom is mine
And I know how I feel
It's a new dawn, It's a new day
It's a new life
For me
Feeling good"
(By Michael Buble)
I actually sang this song at the very moment that my 12 year-old niece was born...but that's another story.
And just before that, was this song:
"I'm a new soul
I came to this strange world
Hoping I could learn a bit bout how to give and take.
But since I came here,
Felt the joy and the fear
Finding myself making every possible mistake
la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la...
I'm a young soul
In this very strange world
Hoping I could learn a bit bout what is true and fake
But why all this hate?
Try to communicate
Finding trust and love is not always easy to make
la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la...
This is a happy end
'Cause you don't understand
Everything you have done
Why's everything so wrong?
This is a happy end
Come and give me your hand
I'll take you far away"
(Yael Naim)
And finally, my favorite of all Brazilian songs: "Eu Sou Assim" by Paulinho Da Viola...the lyrics of which, essentially mean, "This is who I am, take it or leave it! I live for today, in the 'now' and I won't carry any regrets with me when I die."
A Tidbit
Since last writing, I drove through 8 states on my 5th cross-country road trip this year (6th, if you count last Sept.) between NY and Colorado. Since the New Year of 2010, I have driven an estimated 15,000 miles in road trips alone, in my trusty Mitzubishi Endeavor (thank you, Ian). I have covered 19 states, most of them multiple times, and the following cities (many also multiple times): NYC (NY), Asheville (NC), Atlanta (GA), New Orleans (LA), Houston (TX), Denver (CO), Boulder (CO), Westcliffe (CO), Steamboat (CO), Moab (UT), Santa Fe (NM), Austin (TX), Chicago (Ill.), Quebec City (Canada)and Montreal (Canada).
My road trip companions have included friends from Estonia, India, Philadelphia, Austin, Tokyo, Fort Collins, Israel, Tibet and New York.
My road trip companions have included friends from Estonia, India, Philadelphia, Austin, Tokyo, Fort Collins, Israel, Tibet and New York.
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