Ssalama uWekkum! Labas, Oles? --Labas llahamdullah.
Your Time 2009ers are still doing great— since our last update we have had many adventures trekking through the mean streets of Istanbul, across the Anatolian subcontinent, and into Africa and its beautiful culture via Fes and our Fassi host families.
A few key events from our last weeks in Turkey include our grouplife-organized trip to the Besiktas (in Turkish, it sounds like “Besh-ick-tash”) vs. Manchester United soccer game. At the game, we stood with Turks, learning cheers from them, and many of us bought Besiktas gear (scarves, jerseys, sweat bands, jester hats); with these props and these teachers, it was easy to get psyched up and into the game. Though Besiktas ended up losing, it was close game, and there wasn't a single seat filled—because every single person in Inonu Stadium was on his (by the vast majority of men at the game, that pronoun is basically correct) feet throughout the whole game. It was a “chok supair” group experience, and many of us still proudly support Besiktas—though sometimes (like in Cappadocia) that deep devotion can lead to additional comments from supporters of Galatasaray.
Another fantastic experience shared by our whole group occurred on our last night in Istanbul. It was one of the final nights of Ramadan, and many of us had Turkish friends to thank and say goodbye to, so we organized a mega Iftar party at the Hippodrome in Sultanhamet. Because we got to the Hippodrome hours before sunset, we were able to reserve two full picnic tables near the Egyptian Column. As we played cards, banana grams, and reflected upon our weeks in Istanbul, time passed quickly, and soon it was nearing sunset. Our group and its friends had all gathered, and we all waited patiently for the meuzzin to call out the end of the fast. When the moment came, half a dozen calls echoed toward us simultaneously as we sat in the middle of the middle of Istanbul's religious heart. Passing around the ekmek (break) and downing cups of su (water), we happily ate together in the setting sun and the beautiful commotion that is Istanbul at Iftar. For dessert, Barbara passed around cookies and treats that she and Bruce provided for the group. It was a lovely way to close a fantastic first part of our program.
The following morning, TIME set off on its next great adventure—excursion. Led by the indomitable Serap—loved and hated by the group for her extensive knowledge of Turkey, its history and its culture, and her characteristic exclamations, gasps, and “pities” about everything from melons to mountains, salt seas to strangely empty cafes (it was Ramadan, so not really that strange)—and driven by the brave and kind Kedir, we Oles were in for an eventful, or rather event-packed, week. Some of our favorite memories include when the girls in the group sang Um Ya Ya on stage at the enormous ancient theater in Ephesus—leading to applause from every row, and a response-song when an Italian tour group piggy-backed on our school pride. Ephesus was just one of the many of the many Hellenistic sites we visited—this group has got columns, capitals, acropoli, and dangerously prickly plants down. We had some great photo ops, some zen moments seemingly “on top of the world,” and the unique opportunity to touch the same Trojan Horse that Brad Pitt touched when he was in his Achilles get-up....each of us has his/her own personal favorite moment.
Speaking of things revered by millions, another memorable stop on our excursion was at Ataturk's tomb in Ankara. It was so fascinating to see the way Ataturk is remembered by the people who can rightly be called “his” countrymen. The building housing Ataturk's tomb also houses a large museum that includes many of Ataturk's most prized, most beautiful personal possessions and articles of clothing, the grand finale of this section being a “Wax-aturk” who stands guard at the end of one hallway, wearing Ataturk's famous tuxedo.
Though we definitely hit up all the big attractions in Western and Central Anatolia, Serap still managed to make our trip personal. We ended one of the days of touring Cappadocia with a visit to a world-famous potter there. Or own Kirsten Overby was then invited (and successfully convinced) to put her hands to work throwing what turned out to be a beautiful bowl on this potters kick wheel. After the demonstration and Kirsten's turn at his wheel, we all looked around the shop. Several Oles ended up making purchases, but a few also left a slightly more unique mark on this old hippie's studio—contributing locks of hair to the potter's Guiness World Record-holding collection of women's hair.
TIME wrapped up its time in Turkey with one last (short-on-sleep) night in Istanbul. Some Oles went back to the Golden Horn for Nargile and Doners, some book-ended their time in Istanbul by visiting Ana Hazals or Cafe Bu back by Bogazici, and some stayed close to “Hotel Llama” by having one last chorba from Sen Bufe. Whatever they did at night, all the Oles were up bright and early for our 4 am departure for the airport. After a long and “interesting” day of travel, all the little Oles were tucked in tight in Rabat, Morocco that night.
We have since then moved to Fes, and our homestays here. We are all enjoying getting to know our new families—discovering their unique quirks, and comparing and contrasting that with other peoples' experiences to begin to formulate an understanding of who Fassis are, and how they live their lives. We are all eating well— some of us have been lucky enough to be placed in the homes of expert Fassi chefs (both male and female). We are enjoying cous cous, tangine, harrare, steamed veggies, salt, mint tea, wedding pastries, fresh fruit and veggies, and the list goes on. Inshallah it'll only keep getting better, and we'll not come back too huge.
Living in Fes is so different from anything we've ever done before. Walking through the Medina, smells of baking bread (khobbs) and pastries greet us, shortly after passing by the tannery and random smelly places. We squeeze against the walls of the narrow alleys at the sound of “Balak!” (a heavily-laden donkey is bearing down upon you!), we see hordes of kids playing and loving life in meandering streets. Though none of us are expert enough to know the shortcuts in shortcuts when navigating the Medina, we are steadily gaining a better understanding of the layout of this ancient Islamic city, and are making friends with our neighbors and the handicraft shopkeepers that we pass on a daily basis.
Our classes at the “Centre Americane” are going well—we are taking a fascinating sociology class led by one of Fes' leadng feminists, and are chugging away at Ddareeja (the Moroccan Arabi dialect which is a fusion of French, Berber/Amazig, Spanish, and Arabic). We have all managed to discover some form of communication which works in our individual homestay households, though what that is is different in every house. French and our unique fusion languages of Turkabic, Franswabic, and the most common Turklishabic, supplement Cherades and our “real Ddareeja,” creating communication. Though some people would view a limited language capacity in a homestay as a cap to communication, we see it as an opportunity for creativity. Inshallah, it'll be tammam, w yemken we'll learn chok fun words to bring back to Northfield, like “chanta,” “khobbs,” “sheftli,” “aafak,” “nargile” ve “chay.”
So, as you can tell, your Timers are all doing well. We are jumping into this once in a lifetime opportunity, and are loving it.
Until next time, b'salama!
Love, Peace, and Cous cous,
--Time 2009