Sixth week - October (Ekim) 20 - 26

For more photos, see: http://anatolianphotos.shutterfly.com/

This week was fairly routine—not too much to report. I did finally get my Residency Permit, meaning that when I return to Connecticut in December—then on to California to visit my mom – I will be able to re-enter Turkey, something I would not have been able to do without the residency permit. The type of visa I was granted – a one year visitor’s visa – determined that policy. Alas, Larry and I both noticed that our long-awaited permits take us only through December 31. Ack! Does that mean we have to go through that bureaucratic hassle again? We’ll find out.

Turkish lessons continue apace. We are contemplating dropping them, though. With five hours per week of lessons, and five hours per week of commuting to and from those lessons, and a few hours per week studying, doing homework, and preparing for those lessons, they are taking up a lot of time. Time is plenty of which I have. (Is that sentence correct?). But this coming week is when I start thinking of participating in library-related stuff. Larry has even less time, and has also had a great deal of difficulty making it to the lessons in downtown Ankara from the remote Hacettepe campus. So his decision is already made—after this week, he will revert to self-study. His Turkish is already far better than mine.

In anticipation of maybe volunteering at the Hacettepe library or at a private library, I became a member of the library at the Turkish American Association (TAA), where we are taking the Turkish lessons. Fifteen years ago, this library was fairly extensive, and occupied a portion of the building next to TAA. That building is now a rug shop. During one of the U.S. recessions since we were here in 1995, Congress cut funding to a lot of libraries. Jesse Helms, in his infinite wisdom, decided that if U.S. library branches were being forced to shut down, then Congress had no business funding overseas libraries as well. Hence, today’s TAA library, which still exists on gifts and donations, occupies a single cramped room and is just short of pathetic. The books are mostly in English, in keeping with the association’s mission, but are mostly paperbacks in bad condition. When I asked for the section on Turkish history, I was directed to travel books. Once I caught on (quickly, but not immediately) that the library used LC classification (an odd choice, for such a tiny library), I found the DR section, only to find a really skimpy selection. The one interesting book on the history of Turkey I had already read. For any of my ECSU colleagues reading this—are there any unwanted duplicates that might make their way to this library? In theory, this should be a fairly easy transaction; in reality, shipping costs are daunting.

The weekend was spent socializing. On Saturday night, Larry and I hung out at Swan Park, awaiting the pre-arranged arrival of someone we met fifteen years ago, who lives and teaches in Dresden, Germany. His wife lives in Ankara and teaches at Hacettepe, and he was here for his every two month visit to Ankara. Since we met this couple on our last sojourn here, Michael has faithfully sent us Christmas cards every year, updating us on his and Serpil’s (his wife’s) doings. We were not sure we would even recognize him if/when he showed up at the park at the appointed hour. Sure enough, I saw a very tall, very handsome, man approach us and immediately recognized him. Serpil was unable to join us, as she is heavily involved in organizing an upcoming conference on ecotourism, to be held next week in Antalya. I sure wish we had known about this conference in time to register (too late now); it is in a five star hotel on the Mediterranean, where it is still warm enough to swim. Darn. Anyway, off we went in search of a restaurant, which would accommodate a vegetarian (Larry), and meat and potatoes man (“I-don’t-like-vegetables” Michael), and me, somewhere in the middle (although I do like vegetables). Since the area around the park on a Saturday night is hopping with young people, it took awhile to find a restaurant with empty tables, but we finally did—in a restaurant that does not serve alcohol. This may say something about the young people in Ankara (and most other cities throughout the world, obviously). Ironically, I was up to trying the local beer that night – Efes. But that will have to wait for another time.

Next night, I hosted a dinner at our apartment, with our new friends, Alice and Carnot Nelson (from Florida), and Renan (forgot her last name), a math professor from CUNY in Queens, now on a Fulbright at both Hacettepe and Ankara University. Originally from Istanbul, she is thinking of returning to Turkey permanently. For dinner, I got a little creative, but also resorted to some tried and true recipes. Since the beauty of Turkish cooking is the use of fresh ingredients, I spent all day Saturday and Sunday preparing and cooking. I did, however, cheat on two of the dishes by purchasing them already prepared: stuffed grape leaves, purchased at the Friday “pizar” or street market, from the same woman we buy from each week, and “borek,” or cheese and parsley pastry, from our nearby bakery. Here is the menu: Appetizers: Turkish pistachios, Swiss cheese (very expensive here; I would have bought Turkish cheese, but I don’t know them well enough yet) and crackers, and humus. Main course: “Imam Bayildi,” or “The Imam Fainted,” (it took two hours and came out terrific), lentil stew, potatoes oreganato (my grandmother’s recipe), marinated cucumber slices, the “borek” and stuffed grape leaves, olives, and fresh Turkish bread. One of our guests brought dessert: mini tarts with pistachios and caramel, butter cookies with chocolate, and some other chocolate delights. Turkish wine was enjoyed by all, as well as “Nan Suyu,” or pomegranate juice (very expensive at home, very cheap here).

At 10:30, we walked our guests to the corner taxi stand a few blocks from our apartment, only to witness near pandemonium. The traffic was wild, horns were honking everywhere, people were shouting all over the place. We had just been telling our guests how quiet the neighborhood is. “Only soccer can bring on this type of chaos,” I suggested. Sure enough, we turned the TV on when we got back home, and found that one Turkish soccer team had just beaten its arch-rival for the #1 spot in their league. We got to watch highlights of the game—which was intense—and the crowd reaction to the final score. They were crazed. Whew! I’m glad I wasn’t at that stadium. On the other hand, it would have been fun. The crowds on the street near our home had likely been in local bars and cafes, watching on the ubiquitous large-screen TVs that cover soccer here. Seems that every establishment here is a “sports bar” when it comes to soccer.

Update on swine flu in Turkey: To date, there are just under 1,000 cases of swine flu in Turkey, with one death—this week, in Ankara, a health care worker in his late 20s died of the disease. The high school on the Bilkent campus was closed last week for a few days. Our guest, Renan, rold us that this week, all schools in Ankara are closed, with the exception of the universities, but I cannot confirm this in the press, so I'm not sure it's actually true. [update: it's true] The country just (the day before I am writing this) received 40 million doses of the vaccine; the government is currently setting guidelines for who will receive the doses. Obviously, health care workers, and particularly vulnerable groups, such as pregnant women, will be high on the list. It is unlikely Larry and I will be able to get a shot. The manifestation of swine flu here in Turkey so far is less deadly than at home, so I am not particularly worried. Nonetheless, I do use the hand sanitizer the Embassy nurse handed to all of us (“this is your friend” she said) some weeks ago—despite the nauseating bubble-gum smell.

Because so little otherwise happened this week, I’d like to fill in a few observations I should have made earlier. Some people may remember that a few days before we left the U.S., there was a terrible flood in Istanbul, with several dozen people dying and many hundreds losing their homes. When we approached Istanbul airport, we did see from the plane some of the destruction. The irony (for us, anyway) of seeing all that water-related damage is that Ankara, and most of the middle of the country, is incredibly dry. We had a few days of rain our first week here, and a brief deluge a week or two ago. Otherwise, the weather has been warm and dry. I am still walking around outside in capris and short sleeve shirts. Even at night, after our Turkish lesson ends downtown at 9:00 p.m., we walk to the subway station (about a half-hour walk; we can take a bus, but prefer to walk), and actually feel hot, even though it is an easy downhill walk. Another irony, though, is that we have rebooked a trip to Yedigoller Milli Parki (Seven Lakes National Park) for this upcoming weekend. (The travel insurance worked well, so this second trip doesn’t cost all that much). Guess what the forecast for that area is? Rain. Sigh.

Another observation I have waited to write about is clothes. Istanbul and Ankara (mostly Istanbul) are the fashion centers of the country. In downtown Ankara, people are dressed to a “T.” (What does that phrase mean, anyway?) Unlike Manhattan, fashion here is not outlandish, but very stylish. Although a large number of women wear high heels, I have yet to see the ankle busters I see at home. With my LL Bean shirts, un-stylish flat shoes, and loose fitting pants, I stand out like a sore thumb on some streets. Even in my middle class neighborhood, people dress during the day with a great deal of care. Men are in suits and tie, women in fitted jackets, skirts or slacks, and pretty neck scarves. There are lots of exceptions, of course, and here is where I fit in—again, depending on the neighborhood and the street. A lot more people (especially young people, as one would expect, but some middle aged as well) wear jeans, a few wear sneakers, and American brands—especially Adidas—can be seen on a lot of young people. Flat shoes are stylish looking. Converse sneakers are very popular. I know I am painting a bit of a contradictory picture here. This is a big city after all. I guess what I am saying is there are a lot more people dressed up than I see at home (surprise from someone who lives in the sticks of northeastern Connecticut?). And, for those that do not, they dress as casually as people at home. Of course, as expected, there are head-scarved women as well. The latter fall into two fashion categories: 1. Young women with head scarves wearing long sleeved shirts, covered with long, fitted sweaters, generally belted, over jeans or other fashionable slacks, or a long skirt, and flats, or, occasionally, small heels. They look very striking. 2. The more devout head scarf wearers, mostly older, but some younger as well, wear long jackets or full length coats over long skirts, even in the heat of summer. Ulus, the older part of Ankara, has more scarved women than does the part of Ankara we walk to and from our Turkish classes. Long banned by law on university campuses, head scarves are beginning to show up on the Hacettepe campus, a public university, where the rules are more lax than, say, private universities.

Tonight I interrupt my Turkish classes to attend a Republic Day reception at TAA. Beginning tomorrow (Wednesday), another holiday occurs here to celebrate the founding of the Turkish Republic in the 1920s. This was the long weekend we had planned to go to Bodrum, on the Aegean Sea, with Gulriz. But, alas, she and Mama Ayse both have colds or flu -- not sure which, at the moment. So the Bodrum trip will have to wait. Soon, I hope.

Fifth week - October (Ekim) 13 - 19

For more photos, see http://www.anatolianphotos@shutterfly.com/

For more info about the photos, see Oct. 19 post below.

Back to the police station in hopes of completing the applications for our residency permits. But first, we have to get our hands on the letter of appointment from the Rektor (or president) of the University. Alas, he is located at a different campus—the medical school, which is considered the “main” campus of Hacettepe – in downtown Ankara. So our driver, Ceylan, a new faculty member at Hacettepe, first worked out that campus’s maze, picked up (with us in tow) the elusive letter, then drove us to the police station, located next to yet another monster mall. After several discussions, referral to another office, and a few more documents stamped, we succeeded in completing the process. Except that we can’t actually pick up the permits just yet. Larry’s will be ready on Friday of this week. (It is Tuesday as I write this). Mine will be ready on Friday of next week. This means, of course, corralling more people to drive us to the station. But at least the most difficult of our bureaucratic obligations has been completed. Hooray.

For Tuesday night’s Turkish lesson, Larry came with me to sign up a week late. Arriving a little early, we decide to quickly visit Tempo Tur, a travel bureau we had used in the past, to ask about a list of weekend excursions and/or an upcoming lake district walking tour I found on their web site. We are told that there is room for this weekend’s excursion, but we must pay by the end of the next day, Wednesday. Drat! I didn’t bring money with me to pay for the tour, which means I’ll have to come down the next day to sign up and pay.

At the Turkish class, we are now up to nine students, including Larry and a few other newbies. This takes some of the pressure off me and Sherri, the other student who, with me, showed up from the beginning. Although the instructor still asks her and me more questions than she does the others (we know our alphabet!), we are still singled out less than we were last week. I’m not a complete idiot when it comes to learning languages, but I often feel like one when questions are lobbed to me in another language. Just call me slow.

Next morning, I set out to sign up for the Tempo Tur for this weekend. Before leaving, I noticed it was unusually cloudy. Except for a few rainy afternoons our first week here, it has been consistently dry, sunny and warm every day since our arrival. But just as I opened the door to leave, I checked the sky and saw the clouds breaking up. Back went the umbrella to my closet. Naturally, after paying for the tour (an hour or so later), the heavy rains began. I took refuge in Karum, the large, fancy urban mall near Tempo Tur that used to be a retail showcase for downtown Ankara. Although there are still many high end shops in Karum, at least half of the stores are empty. This seems to be a legacy of all those outlying, car-accessible-only new malls along the Eskisehir Highway. (Ironically, Eskisehir means “old town”).

Arriving back in my neighborhood, Bahcelievler, I broke down and bought a small box of delicious baklava. I didn’t used to like baklava—too sweet for my taste. But the somewhat expensive variety available in Mado, the local bakery and ice cream shop, is less sweet and simply wonderful. There goes the weight loss I’ve been experiencing since I got here.

Hm. During Fulbright orientation a few weeks ago, an officer from the Consular Office in the U.S. Embassy told us that they would take care of sending absentee ballots for local U.S. elections – in our case, Hampton municipal elections – by diplomatic pouch. But we would need to make an appointment to do so. With all the paperwork we needed to pull together for a residency permit, the ballots fell to a lower priority. This week, I have been trying to make an appointment to bring in the ballots, but I have had difficulty fitting in a phone call, as the Consular office receives phone calls only on certain days and for limited hours within those days. The automated referral system is as much fun as, say, reaching AT&T customer service at home. Well, today I got the information that ballots sent by IPO?/APO? (i.e., diplomatic pouch, I think) will take nearly three weeks to arrive. So much for that. So off I go in search of a post office, in hopes that I can make my request for airmail clear. (Where is that phrase book when I need it?).

Tomorrow we plan on opening a bank account, with the help of a Fulbright staff member, assuming we can find her office, never having been there yet. (The orientation program was held at the Turkish American Association, where we have our Turkish lessons). Then we’re going to try to find the police station on our own via the subway. This station is right next to a very large mall where we hope to find, finally, a reading lamp or two. Our apartment has ceiling lights only, which are fine for most purposes. But for reading, it is very difficult. All the lamps we’ve found so far are just too garish. If we cannot find a simple design, then garish it will have to be. I just hope they are not too expensive; so far, they seem to cost a lot.

Once I gain access to the Internet from home, I hope to begin looking up Turkish recipes so I can expand my cooking repertoire. Since we left Gulriz’s apartment, we’ve been subsisting for many nights on a lentil dish I’ve improvised. Basically, veggies and lentils, I spice it up as I can, using some of the mystery spices I used at Gulriz’s. One is called “reyhan,” which I buy in more or less fresh bunches when I can find it, which is not often. It is shaped something like basil, is deep red/black, and has a pungent taste—almost like lemon. [news flash! Turns out is IS basil, a wild variety found on the slopes of the Mediterranean. Cool! I think we have some in our yard at home that my friend Kris gave me long ago--I didn't think it was edible!] I also use lemon, from the small, very juicy and flavorful ones available during this season. An actual Turkish dish I’ve learned to make is onions and sumac. Onions are sliced, soaked in salt water for about 10 minutes, rinsed, then marinated in olive oil, a little lemon, and sumac, a red spice available in some stores. I also added fresh chopped parsley. The marinade, and especially the sumac, takes out much of the bitterness of the onions and enables me to eat raw onions without too much regret. The dish is also very pretty and makes a great accompaniment for main dishes. Once I find some fresh, small eggplant, I will try a simple eggplant and sauce dish, which is usually topped with plain yogurt, but I prefer to eat it plain. I never did get the recipe for the eggplant dished called, “The Imam Fainted.” But once I have that Internet connection . . . . I sure wish, in the meantime, that I had brought along the small Turkish recipe book I have in Connecticut.

Next several days: I finally have internet access at home, with enough speed to watch Stephen Colbert segments (the full episodes are not available in Turkey) and Amy Goodman, without too many freeze-ups. Plus, I can now answer people’s emails in a timely manner. Hooray! We also now have Larry’s residency permit (mine still to come), and a bank account, into which the Fulbright office just today (Tuesday) deposited September and October’s grant money. Another hooray! We also just found out that the Red Sox are out of the Series picture. Boo!

Over the weekend, we went on our first out-of-Ankara excursion. Our two-day walking/hiking tour was great fun, except that it turned out to be only one day, as I came down with a severe case of food poisoning. This sent us home late morning on the second day, once my medication kicked in and I could face the two hour bus ride home. The sad part about missing that second day is that it was the highlight of the tour; a hike in the Yedigoller Milli Parki (Seven Lakes National Park). Apparently, the seven glacial lakes in the beautiful mountainous region around the city of Bolu (northwest of Ankara) are on two plateaus, with a difference of several hundred feet between the interconnected lakes. The lakes are small and must be quite beautiful, based on the two lakes we saw the day before. The park is also home to wolves, bears, and wild boars, so it must be quite pristine.

What we did see on the first day, though, was well worth the trip. The bus ride out of Ankara was a reminder of the wild beauty of most of central Turkey. It is stark and mostly undeveloped, dotted by countless small villages. The vistas are long and dramatic. Our first stop was a rest stop, like no other I have seen. It looked like a Colorado ski resort, with gardens and a pond in back. The second twenty-minute stop was in the city of Bolu, with a population of @400,000. We stopped right in front of yet another Selcuk (pronounced Seljuk) mosque. Built in 1163, the Sarachani camii also has the date 1750 prominently displayed at the entrance. Since no one on the bus spoke English (we later found one person who did), we don’t know if the mosque was rebuilt, restored, or replaced in 1750. Or whether there is some other significance to that date.

Next to the mosque was an old, working hamam, or public bath, which was in use that day. (It was men’s day). Walking past the doorway, I glanced in and saw men in towels. That was a little embarrassing in a conservative community. I quickly walked away.

Next stop was Golcuk Lake. Walking around the lake twice on a manicured walkway, Larry and I wondered if this was the extent of our “hike.” The walk was leisurely, as was our bagged lunch at one of the dozens of picnic tables. And the lake was heavily used, mostly by local college students on an outing. They were playing soccer, rope pull, and other outdoor activities, including eating. As a group of young, scarved, women walked past us, Larry said, “Merhaba,” (hello), which elicited a chorus of giggles from the young women. Oops. We forgot that male strangers did not talk to women. On our second go-around, we passed them again, to be greeted by them with another chorus—this time a loud, “Merhaba.”

At the appointed time, we looked for the bus, only to find it had left! But we found three other women in our group who assured us that it was coming. (They knew no English, but we figured out what they were telling us). It turns out that we were supposed to leave with the group for lunch much earlier, but we didn’t know it. Luckily, the tour guide had the bus come back for us. The communication difficulty was a little more complicated than this, but I won’t go into details.

Next stop: Aladag Puddle. This is the Turkish tour company’s translation of Aladag Gol, or Aladag Lake. This turned out to be the real hike. For two hours, we steadily climbed a gentle slope into the mountains. So gentle that even some elderly women in our group (including me) had little trouble. A few, though, stayed behind. Oh, did I mention that, of the twenty people on this tour, only two were male? The rest were primarily middle-aged women, with a few older, and a few younger. The climb led us to Karacaagac Highland, a community of summer cottages, mostly wooden, high in the hills. The name means Black Pine Tree summer community, and the cottages were made from that wood. One building was ornamented with reminders of the U.S. Wild West (wagon wheels, cattle horns, etc.), and labeled “Serif.” Serif is a common Turkish last name, and is also pronounced what it was here designed to represent: “Sheriff.” The sign even included a five star silver badge. The populace had already abandoned their summer homes for the season.

Continuing to climb, we found ourselves in a rock field, rivaling even the rocky fields of New England, but without much green growth at all, other than the beautiful pines that ringed the field. Very dramatic. The few bushes we did see included tall ones with yellow “berries,” some of which had fallen to the ground. Our guide picked some up off the ground and handed them to us to try. Wouldn’t you know, they were the teeny “crabapples” that made up the edible necklaces we bought a few weeks back in the local market near Gulriz’s. I had a few; Larry and the others had more. After this, the descent became steep. It was at this point that I realized how high we had climbed. The ascent was so subtle that the steep descent came as a surprise. The dryness of the underlying path made the descent a tad tricky, but not too hard.

We finally reached the “puddle,” a large lake really, although seemingly very shallow, created by damming up a stream. This explains the dry stream bed we followed for much of the hike. At the very end of our hike, we passed a field of wooden “tents.” These were charming and currently held participants of a sports camp.

After a long rest at the lodge (and tea and biscuits), we headed to our hotel, The Prestige Hotel, in Bolu. A new hotel, it had little charm, but was clean and comfortable—but noisy! I think the walls and floors were made of cardboard. The food, though, was spectacular. There had to be twenty-five choices at least. We were tempted to eat a lot, it was so good. But for some reason, my appetite didn’t match the level of physical activity from the day. It was only later that I realized I was getting ill. Only late night and early morning “sessions” convinced me that I had a very bad case of food poisoning. Although it is possible the problem originated with dinner, the speed of my illness suggested otherwise. No one else got sick either. Was it maybe those crabapples? Again, no one else got sick. At any rate, a second day of hiking was out of the question, meaning we would be missing the highlight of our trip, Yedigoller Milli Parki.

Luckily two of our fellow travelers were doctors, one of whom spoke some English. The country’s health care system provided me with free medication, ordered by the doctor and delivered by the hotel staff. The latter also brought me boiled potatoes and lots of drinking water. (One drinks only bottled water here). Once I was convinced the medicine was working, the hotel staff ordered a taxi, which took Larry and me to the bus terminal, where we caught a bus back to Ankara for a two hour trip. Whew! Made it. Our tour included travel insurance, so when I have time this week, I’ll head back to downtown and request the promised reimbursement for the cost back to Ankara.

Despite the near disaster on this trip, we are happy to have been out of the city air, and walking where we could breathe deeply the beautiful, clear, mountain air of the Bolu mountains. We’ll try again later to get to Yedigoller.

Pictures from the Fourth and Fifth week, Oct. 13-19

Visit http://anatolianphotos.shutterfly.com/ for pictures of our fourth and fifth week in Turkey. Most pictures are from our travels to the mountains about two hour's bus ride northwest of Ankara, in and surrounding the city of Bolu.

To see all of the caption information, click on "View album," then click on the first picture to view a larger version. At this point, you can select each picture by hitting the forward arrow, or you can select "slideshow." The latter will also show all the captions.

Fourth week, October (Ekim) 6 - 12

This week, I begin Turkish lessons at the Turkish American Association (TAA), continue to find stuff for the apartment, continue to fathom the mysteries of bus transportation, check out our new neighborhood, and try to obtain residency permits for me and Larry. We now know how to find the free Hacettepe service bus from our new neighborhood. Arriving a little earlier (8:05 a.m.) than the Mutlu Koy bus, our Bachelievler employee bus is an even closer walk—no longer than five minutes from our apartment. Before long, we should figure out alternative routes and times during the day in and out of the university which, unfortunately, is way out in the suburbs, the equivalent of traveling between UConn/Storrs and maybe Vernon, CT.

My Turkish lessons began on Tuesday, Oct. 6, at the Turkish American Association (TAA). They run from 6:30 – 9:00 on Tuesday and Thursday evenings. They are taught by a 23-year old Turkish woman who teaches in Turkish. Drat! I always have trouble with beginning language classes taught in the actual language. Not my learning style, at least not until I’ve got the basics under my belt. Well, maybe it will work this time. Getting to classes requires a fifteen minute walk to the subway, a 7 – 8 minute ride to Kizilay. Then I either walk for 45 minutes to class, or take a city bus, depending on how late I’m running, or how tired I am. After class, I take a bus to the subway; arriving home a little after 10:00 p.m. This week, Larry hasn’t been able to come with me due to his schedule. Next week he hopes to join me. I hope so. I do not feel particularly threatened walking home alone from the subway. But the streets are a little dark, and I will certainly welcome Larry’s company. He has offered to meet me at the subway station on nights he can’t make the class; I will likely take him up on this offer which will be easier if/when I ever get our cell phones activated. One of my fellow students, a businessman from Puerto Rico, waited with me for the bus after class, so we started a conversation. When he told me he was an art dealer in Puerto Rico, I asked if he knew Lorenzo Homar, an artist and teacher from the island who died just a few years ago at age 90. “El Maestro!” was his reply. “Of course I know him, he is the master!” He was very surprised to hear about the exhibit I curated nearly 25 years ago, and wants me to contact him when I get back to the states. Small world!

We have approximately 7 days to acquire a residency permit before incurring a hefty fine of approximately $400. We sure wish we had all the information we needed weeks ago. But, here we go. First we needed copies of our passports and driver’s licenses—after finding a photocopy service, that is—not so easy, but we succeeded. Then we needed a letter from the university, in Turkish, stating that we’re legit. Also 270 TL. Pulling that together, among other documents, we were able to find a graduate student to bring us to the appropriate police station to begin the application process early in the morning of Oct. 8. Talking her way to the appropriate office (big police station), Gozde worked with an official who said we needed a letter of introduction from the Higher Education Council of Turkey. Eventually he found it (the Fulbright office had taken care of this letter-hooray!). But, alas, our Hacettepe letter was not sufficient; we needed it to be issued from the university’s president’s office, not just the department. And we also need a photocopy of our visa, not just the passport info. In addition, we need a certified translation of our marriage license. So off I go to downtown Ankara to look for such a translation service. But first, I’ll hit the dictionary to figure out how to ask for what I need. The kind policeman assures us that we have time before the fine kicks in. I sure hope our graduate student can fit us in to another trek to the station; it’s not someplace we can easily find by bus. However, now may be the time to figure out the taxi system.

Taking the subway to the transportation hub of Ankara, Kizilay, I followed people’s directions to look diagonally across from the subway station to find a certified translation service. The problem here is that there are at least six exits out of the Kizilay subway stop, all landing me on a different street. And the “hub,” where I get out of one of the exits (it’s a matter of chance as to which one I choose after getting off the train) is the convergence of more than a few streets, with lots of “diagonals” to choose from. I made an arbitrary choice, looked up, and saw a large sign advertising just the type of service I needed. The next challenge was to find either the stairway or the elevator to the fourth floor, (according to the advertisement on the side of the building). After many false starts, and some halting questions to local vendors, I found the office, asked for the translation, and was advised that it would take two hours and cost between 20 and 30 lira (about $13-$20). Seemed fair to me. So off I went to explore Kizilay for two hours.

I wandered up a hill I hadn’t explored before, looked to the right, and saw the Kocatepe Mosque—the new symbol of Ankara (the former symbol was the “Hittite Sun, the logo on my blog), and one of the largest mosques in the world. It is very new, and, being white, is dazzling in the sun. I cannot believe I didn’t bring my camera with me that day! Anyway, my goal was the shopping center beneath the mosque. Mosques have traditionally hosted not only schools and soup kitchens on behalf of the local community, but also vendors to assist in the upkeep of the buildings. Below the Kocatepe mosque (officially Kocatepe Camii) is an enormous supermarket and department store. Larry and I used to shop here regularly, when Bilkent University had not yet built a grocery store on campus, but I had completely forgotten how huge it is. After buying a few things for the apartment and having lunch at the only café I could find—an American-style café, darn—I couldn’t find the exit I had entered. Exiting out of another one, I found myself on an unfamiliar street. No problem, right? I’ll just skirt around the mosque until I find my exit and go down the street I came up. I had deliberately memorized the large poster outside the entrance in case I went out the wrong exit. Long after exiting, and switching back from many, many dead ends, parking garages, entryways to highway, and the enormous outdoor patio serving as the main entry to the upper mosque, I finally found the street that would take me back to the translation service. (When I faced the gorgeous entryway to the mosque, I regretted not bringing a head scarf with me. This is one mosque where I would not be allowed—understandably—to enter without a head covering. Alas, I have never been inside this mosque. I am determined to remember my scarf next time I’m in the area).

Returning to the translation service, I was advised that it would be another ½ hour before the translation was ready. No problem, I’ll wander around some more. This time, I investigated a small street behind some of the large buildings in Kizilay, to find a bustling outdoor flower market. It was certainly tempting to buy some of the beautiful flower bouquets and/or indoor plants, but I passed. I did find, however, a watch and clock shop, where I was able to replace the watch Larry had just lost for 10 TL (@$7), and another little alarm clock for our living room (@$2) so we don’t have to keep running to the end of our long apartment to tell the time when in the living room. I’m not sure how legit this store was, but I am happy to have saved myself lots of money. Other watches I had seen cost a small fortune.

Back to the translation service—another ½ hour they said. By this time my feet were hurting, so I sat and waited, and drank the wonderful Turkish tea they offered me. (I love Turkish tea). Yet another ½ hour, they say again, this time looking embarrassed, as I began to show some irritation. The owner repeatedly apologizing, he called the translator to give him whatfor, to be told it would be ready in 3 minutes. An hour and a half later, I had my translation. The owner was so embarrassed, he would not accept payment from me. I insisted. He declined. I insisted, ending up paying half the 40 TL it turned out to cost. The increase in the final price was due to all the complicated lines on the form, which is what took so long. At any rate, I was happy to have one more piece of the puzzle needed to acquire the elusive residency permit.

Without a residency permit, we cannot open a bank account. Without a bank account, we cannot get our Fulbright pay. Before leaving the states, I withdrew quite a bit of money from my bank account, converting several thousand dollars to Turkish lira. Feeling rather foolish carrying all that cash around for 5,000+ miles, and, in retrospect, relinquishing my dollars for a pretty bad exchange rate, I had assumed I made the first of many mistakes. Not so, as it turned out. We needed most of that money just to get through the first four weeks. Whew!

Some of the money I’m spending on completing the furnishing of our new apartment. Although our landlords thought of nearly everything we would need, there have been, nonetheless, some things we still need. So, while looking for specifics—waste basket for the bathroom, pots and pans, laundry basket, garlic press, and so on, Larry and I have explored the different directions around our neighborhood. We find that, by walking a few blocks in one direction, we find a wildly crowded street – especially on weekend evenings – listed on our tourist map as a shopping mecca, in addition to offering cafes and clubs frequented by thousands of young people, similar to the street we passed through on the way to a party a few weeks ago. This is the street that would be heaven for small young women – like my daughter, Anna – looking for the latest fashions that are, nonetheless, reasonably priced and sized for the under 120 pound set. There is even higher fashion in downtown Ankara, but 7th street in our neighborhood is more middle class in its clientele. In another direction from our street, on the walk toward the subway station, I pass by dozens of small car dealerships, with their cars parked on the sidewalk where I walk, negotiating tight spaces between the shops and moving traffic. Many of the cars for sale on this street are surprisingly large—Land Rovers, BMW SUVS, Honda SUVs, and other cars larger than the norm here. Most cars on the road are quite small, in keeping with gas that sells for the equivalent of $8 to $9 per gallon. Another direction takes us past more cafes and more shops, including a small supermarket, Migros, where we succeeded in finding soy milk and humus. Although Larry is not sticking to a strict vegan diet here, as he does at home, these discoveries make it easier for him to eat in the way he normally chooses. The last direction takes us past dozens of small shops selling household goods. Ah, this will work for furnishing the apartment. Moving past these shops, we found the local Pazar (bazaar) spot, where Fridays teem with dozens of farmers selling their fresh produce—like the one we frequented with Gulriz in her neighborhood. Tomatoes are still wonderful and amazingly cheap; we bought about seven large ripe tomatoes for approximately one dollar (1.5 Turkish Lira).

Speaking of food, we were invited to dinner at the home of the people who hosted the party we attended a few weeks ago. Knowing how to get there, we walked (again) from the transportation hub, Kizilay, to their Kavaklidere apartment, a 40 minute walk after the subway ride. The Nelsons, from Florida, had just the two of us for dinner this past Saturday. Alice is certainly a terrific cook. Let me list what she prepared: 1. Zucchini patties (like crab cakes but without the crab or the Bay seasonings); 2. sliced onions seasoned with sumac; 3. yogurt, cuke & garlic sauce; 4. spinach & cauliflour stir fry; 5. rice with courants; 6. shepard’s salad (tomatoes, cukes, onions, olive oil and lemon, with lots of fresh parsley); and, I think, a few other dishes I’m forgetting. Oh, right, all these followed the lentil soup that started the meal. I brought the dessert: unimaginative (but really good) baklava and chocolate chip/raisin cookies, all from a really good bakery. We drank Turkish red wine, which was excellent. We had so much fun that we nearly lost track of the time and worried that the subway would shut down before we made our way back. The walk back was shorter because it was downhill, but was long enough to completely sober me.

We made tentative plans with the Nelsons to visit with one other couple an archaeological site called Gordion, the location of the legendary cutting of the Gordion Knot by Alexander the Great, and the domain of King Midas. In addition, we still have tentative plans to visit Bodrum, on the Aegean Sea, with Gulriz the last weekend of October. So we will finally be able to start traveling and I can stop boring you all with our domestic arrangements.

One more activity this week worth noting: On Friday, Larry and I went to campus to hear a late morning lecture by Scott Slovic, a faculty member at the University of Nevada, who was speaking about “Ecocriticism: why does it matter?” Once again, I assumed it would be a dry academic polemic, but it was very interesting. And the number of students attending was terrific; of course, they were required to attend. At lunch with the speaker and a handful of faculty, I asked if he knew Edwin Way Teale’s work, as he, Teale, lived within a stone’s throw of our Hampton house. He said he teaches Teale and, no, he didn’t know that the latter’s archive is at the UConn/Storrs campus. If he visits the archive, he is welcome to stay with us, where we can take him hiking at Trailwood, the former home of Edwin and Nellie Teale, and now an Audobon center.

Oh—last night, just as we were settling down to watch BBC World News, one of two TV channels we can watch in English (we watch some Turkish news channels, but our Turkish is abysmal), we get a phone call from who but Larry’s sister, Carol. I was so surprised that I wasn’t quite sure what to say. She was calling from Seattle where she was visiting her son and his family and celebrating her granddaughter, Sydney’s, third birthday. What a terrific surprise to be able to talk to them! Made my day.

Once we obtain our residency permit (keeping our fingers crossed), our bank account, and visit the Embassy to send off, by diplomatic pouch, our absentee ballots for the local elections in Hampton, I will finally start making some choices as to “what I will be doing with my time,” here in Ankara. I must admit, that this weekend, spent on a dinner party, some long exercise sessions, some shopping, some cooking, and – to my delight – reading of an entire book, I am very happy to have spent the time in such mundane activities. Our transition time has been longer than I expected. Before long, though, I will decide what my role will be, if any, at Hacettepe; there are several possibilities. Or, I may just decide that Turkish classes, learning to cook Turkish food, exercise, visits to campus, use of two or three libraries, writing my blog, checking various web sites and reading, reading, and more reading, may go a long way in “filling my time.”

Third week, September (Eylul) 29 - October (Ekim) 5

This third week was filled with finishing up details at Gulriz’s, attending a two-day orientation program by the Fulbright Committee, and finding and moving into an apartment of our own.


On Tuesday of this week, I spent some time buying a few needed items; with classes beginning next week and an 8:10 a.m. bus to catch to Hacettepe University, an alarm clock was critical. So I stayed home while Larry headed to the University, to buy stuff, do a laundry, and accomplish a few additional home tasks. Late in the afternoon, Gulriz headed to a reception, about thirty seconds before Larry came home. I was out on an exercise walk. Guess who thought the other had the keys back into the apartment!? Well, as it was getting cold, and we were facing a hungry four or five hour wait outside until Gulriz got home from the reception, we tried every door and window on the first floor to see if we could break in. This apartment is an impenetrable fortress. Just as we were preparing to walk to the nursing home in hopes the staff would take pity on us and let us sit there for several hours (it was cold)—maybe give us a scrap of bread crust, -- I remembered seeing an open window in the basement when I brought my laundry down. Finding a grate in the ground outside the apartment – unlocked! – I held it open while Larry wiggled down to the hidden open window, squeezed in, climbed the steep, narrow stairs in the dark and opened the cellar door (unlocked—whew!), then the front door, and we were saved from our foolishness. (Mostly mine; Larry said he told me in the morning that he was leaving the keys home; I don’t remember that message—probably half asleep).


On Thursday and Friday, we attended a two-day orientation program by the Fulbright Committee. Given some of the bureaucratic logistics about which we were advised, it is amazing that the Committee did not get us this information until nearly three weeks after we arrived. For example, we need to apply for residency within thirty days of arrival—a very complicated process involving finding the proper police station near our home (since we didn’t have a home yet, this was tricky), finding a way to get there, bringing a Turkish/English speaker with us, bringing proper paperwork and photocopies (first finding a photocopy place; the University does not provide photocopiers, even for class work), and so on. Opening a bank account is equally daunting and necessary to receive any Fulbright payment. Good thing I brought money with me from the States, or we would be starving by now. Well, that latter is an exaggeration; Gulriz feeds us very well. Other than the frustration of finding these things out so late in the game, the rest of the orientation program was excellent. Guest speakers from various universities gave superb talks on a wide variety of topics of interest to newcomers. I had planned on skipping the first day, as it consisted primarily of what seemed like dry, academic topics, which I feared would be boring. I am very glad I changed my mind. The speakers were all excellent. After introductions by Fulbright officials and Embassy representatives, the topics covered were: “Turkish transformation and the Turkish role in global politics,” “Modernization, democratization and identity politics in Turkey,” (delivered by a professor who had an article published in a book co-edited by a former colleague of mine, Myra Ferree, from the University of Connecticut), “Turkey and America, a general overview,” “The Cultural atmosphere in Turkey,” and “Ancient archaeology in Turkey: a contextual introduction.” Lunch on the first day was at a swanky restaurant, with piped in Frank Sinatra music. (!?)

On the second day of orientation, lunch was in an old Ottoman house restaurant, with long narrow steps to a room with a panoramic view of the city. The restaurant/house sits in the middle of the “hisar,” or fortress, in the heart of ancient Ankara. After too much excellent food, we had a guided tour of the magnificent Museum of Anatolian Civilizations, one of the best historical museums I’ve ever been in. The building alone, even if empty of the extraordinary artifacts from 8,000 years of civilization, is worth visiting. A former “horse bazaar,” it sits inside the “hisar,” amidst other “hans,” or trading/resting places of travelling merchants. Built in the 15th or 16th century (I forget which), it was restored in the 1930s by order of Ataturk, the founder of the Turkish Republic. I cannot remember if he lived to see the opening of his vision of this museum.


Leaving the museum, we walked down the hill from the hisar through Old Ankara, through spice bazaars, antique shops, “Copper Alley,” and eventually – continuing down the loooong, steep hill to downtown – through hundreds of street vendors where the majority of Old Ankara’s residents buy their wares. These shops are a far cry from the modernized malls mentioned earlier. Partway down the hill, our guide brought us into a 700-year old Seljuk mosque. Only five of these types of mosques still exist in Turkey. Unlike more recent mosques with their spectacular tumbling domes, Seljuk mosques have flat roofs. Inside, the otherwise simple design was topped by a gorgeous carved wooden ceiling, held together with wooden pegs—no nails. The columns holding up the ceiling and roof consist of ancient pine tree trunks, topped with marble capitals taken from local Roman ruins. The caretaker bemoaned the modern hooks drilled into the columns to hold worshippers’ coats; this mosque is still a working neighborhood center of worship. As such, we were amazed that the women in our group were not asked to cover our heads with the scarves provided at the doorway for the purpose. (We didn’t notice them until our departure). Of course, we all removed our shoes before entering.

Oh, I almost forgot. After the first, long day of speakers (Thursday), we attended a reception at the home of the U.S. Ambassador to Turkey. Alas, he was not there—he was in Brussels instead. So we partied without him. Most attendees had the opportunity to return to their hotel room to rest and change clothes for the reception. The Fulbright grantees are located all over the country. Only a few of us are in Ankara, where the orientation was held, at the Turkish American Association’s Ankara headquarters. Since we did not have enough time to return to Gulriz’s apartment and come back downtown, we cooled our heels, at the invitation of a student, at his “hostel” at the nearby American Research Institute. Imbibing water and cigarette smoke (the four students there smoked the entire time), we talked about the transition to living in Turkey, and received good advice about Turkish language instruction. Taking a cab to the ambassador’s home, we got stuck in afternoon rush hour traffic, complicated by the arrival of some dignitaries for the opening session of Parliament, and the subsequent closing of several streets—tying up traffic forever. The cab driver finally just let us off somewhere within walking distance of the house, as he was going nowhere fast. Arriving at the Ambassador’s home, wouldn’t you know that, after passing through metal detectors, we had to produce our passports in order to get in. Guess what clueless foreigners didn’t think to bring them. Luckily Gulriz and Meldan arrived in the nick of time to talk us in.


On Saturday, we moved into our new apartment, in a different part of town, closer to downtown Ankara. The section is called Bahcelievler, meaning, “houses with gardens.” The original houses have in general been replaced with larger apartment complexes. Our apartment house, for example, has 12 apartments in it. We are on the fourth floor. With no elevator, I am getting plenty of stair climbing. Some of the original houses still exist, however, and are quite charming. We have gone from sharing space in a very, very crowded apartment, to rattling around in a three-bedroom furnished apartment. It is a relief to be able to spread out a bit. But, with far more space than we will need, we’ve got plenty of room for visitors. Any takers? Our landlords formerly lived here with their two young daughters, six year old twins. Some of the cabinets and walls are replete with Barbie, Hello Kitty, and hundreds of Disney stickers. Cute, as are the girls, whom we met a few days ago, along with their mother and, of course, Mithat, the landlord. This family has earned the “landlords of the year” award in our opinion. They have been terrifically helpful, even picking us up, along with our luggage, at Gulriz’s, a fairly long ride away. Mithat recently returned from a three year assignment with his firm (they sell large equipment, such as trucks, tractors, caterpillar equipment, etc.) in Tehran. His memory of the difficulties he had finding a place to live influenced him in doing so very much for us. We are very lucky.


The neighborhood is much more lively than was Mutlu Koy, our former neighborhood. I liked Mutlu Koy very much and would have loved finding a place there. I will miss especially the clean air and the open space in the middle of the apartment complex. I also liked Gulriz’s company most of the time and, of course, her cooking. But we are very happy to have our own space, and our new neighborhood, although hectic, has many advantages. For one thing, it is a mere 12 or 13 minute walk to the subway into town. Another 7 or 8 minutes and we are in downtown Ankara. Once I figure out additional details about transportation, we will be on our way to increased mobility in our new metropolis.


Speaking of transportation, we’ve had some interesting experiences figuring out the bus and metro systems. Before moving to our new apartment, we had to figure out how to get to the Turkish American Association in downtown Ankara for the Fulbright Orientation mentioned above. We had already figured out how to get to the main transportation hub—Kizilay—by bus from Gulriz’s. But, at 7:30 a.m. on a weekday (hence workday), the Kizilay buses were packed and would not stop to pick us up. (Understandable). So we took a chance and got onto a Cankaya bus. The Association is located at the bottom of a very long, very steep hill originated at the top in a section called Cankaya, and ending at the bottom in a section called Kavaklidere (where we attended the private party last week). So we had a sense of where to go once we reached the familiar Cankaya landmark—a very tall tower at the top of the hill. With this tower in sight and/or the distinctive Sheraton Hotel tower, it is relatively easy to orient oneself within the city. Anyway, we got onto a Cankaya bus from Mutlu Koy, only to be increasingly squished among dozens and dozens of additional commuters along the way. Larry and I tried remaining near the driver in case we ended up in unknown territory. This resulted in our becoming the “meter” gatekeepers. People who stepped onto the bus from the back door sent forward their Metro cards to be tabulated on the meter in front of the bus. Larry or I dutifully slipped each card into the meter, then sent back the half dozen to a dozen cards by way of raised “hand-to-hand” transport, wondering how people would recognize and claim their individual cards. (The cards were virtually alike). Eventually, though, we were pushed back toward the middle of the bus. The bus took a lot of very unfamiliar turns, taking us way outside the city center, to the point where we even lost sight of the two important landmarks—the Cankaya Tower and the Sheraton tower. We just accepted the fact that we may arrive at orientation very late, if at all. Eventually a lot of people got off, enabling me to sit down after an hour of standing and being squished. Looking out the window and up, I noticed that we were right next to the Cankaya Tower! While standing, we could not see the tower at all because we were so close to it. Luck was with us yet again. We hopped off the bus, found the street we needed to begin the long descent to Kavaklidere, and walked for nearly a half hour down that incredible hill. (I have half-suppressed memories of walking UP that hill twice fifteen years ago. It is an experience difficult to forget). We arrived at the TAA precisely on time—at 9:00 a.m. on the dot! For the next day’s Orientation session, we made it onto a Kizilay bus, with not too many other commuters. From Kizilay we walked to TAA—approximately ½ hour with Larry (he walks fast), or 40-45 minutes for me (I've done that walk several times since). Now that we are in our own apartment, the transportation challenge begins again as we learn to use the subway, new buses, and service buses to and from Hacettepe. We’re up to it!

Pictures from second and third weeks

I've posted pictures from both our second and thirds week at: http://anatolianphotos.shutterfly.com/

The scrolling pictures from the third week, labeled "our new home" are misleading, and show older pictures, rather than those from our new apartment. That's because I'm still an amateur at this. The apartment pictures are in the album, but toward the end. Sorry!

I've gotten a little better at writing captions for the pictures. I hope they work okay for everyone.