Morning...?

I've recently discovered what I think is a morning in Istanbul. I think. Maybe. The sun rises, so it must be the sign of a new time, a new day, but as far as a change in pattern or clock goes, I'm still confused. 

Last night, or morning, or yesterday (the 31, night of the 30), I enjoyed tea, mussels, and second hand from cheap cigarettes (not so enjoyable), with five Kurdish men, a El Salvadorian (edgar), a pole (pawel), and a canadian (Jeremy). I was the Mexican sister of Edgar for the night, so don't get too excited. After our American going away party for our co-workers at TOG, Tesev, the Turkish Daily, Koc or otherwise, we ended up making friends with not just our co-workers the average chai man, the usual nut seller, or the guy who cleans your table who only speaks Kurdish, or zazaki (of the Zaza people of course). Chatting about their experiences is unique and when you know just enough Turkish, Arabic, English, or Spanish--well, conversation is limited but entertaining. It was night, but morning. Turkcell was planning its carnival and beginning to hang banners at night's end, but morning to it. I saw men ending their nights and some beginning their days.  

Right now it is nearing 8:00 of the 1st. The sleepy watch guards at the desk of my guest house are just waking up with a heavy dose of Turkish Soap Operas. Perhaps the convenience store has opened. I bet that simit is being made somewhere (its always being made). People are getting up. In my case, my flatmates are leaving. One by one. 

Why am I finding a sense of finality in the morning? (can you feel the subtext of the previous paragraph?). I feel like something is over and its only 8:00AM. Something must be beginning. Normally nights give that sense of closure with the promise of the next day. Anymore, with my insomnia, mornings tell me "Its okay to be awake... now. Too bad Advil PM did not work." 

No. That aside, I've come to appreciate the early morning as limbo. A time of change. Not finality. Forever in limbo, in peace---my mantra. Good Morning Istanbul. Good Night America. Happy 5 o'clock. Somewhere. 

How Facebook Ushered Me into the World of Diplomacy

Why did I get a Facebook initially? To easily contact old friends. To socialize. To share the party photos from the night before. To take all of those ridiculous quizzes like, "Which State Are You?" or "What type of Kisser are you?" To "find myself" in those years of teenage identity crisis. 

Yet in the news, I see people using Facebook to start revolutions.  

This is clearly not the Facebook that I, as an American, know. In other parts of the world, Facebook is a political, diplomatic, business and social hub. The politics can get so intense that my sister's Turkish host father will not let his 17 year old use Facebook yet.  Revolutions in Iran start as a result of Facebook. China has recently banned Facebook. The power is so huge; it is beyond seeing the drunken picture of your friends the day after a party. 

As you well know, recently I visited Kosovo for a JADE Junior Enterprises Conference. I was the only American to attend this conference and I did not meet any other American students in the area (some lovely Canadians...). As a result of this conference, I may venture to say that a decent percentage of Kosovar Youth are now my friends on Facebook—for a country isolated for so long, young people are eager to use their IT and English skills to reach out to the world.

You also know that I recently went to a part of Turkey heavily populated by Kurdish people. As a result of being in Kurdish Turkey and Kosovo within three days of each other, I created a Facebook Photo Album called, “Kurds and Kosovo,” probably just because it had catchy alliteration, but I didn’t think much more into it than that.

Then it began….slowly. The Director of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs had mentioned something in his response to a Facebook message I had sent, inquiring why I put Kurds and Kosovars in the same album. My Turkish friend asked why they were put in the same album. 

Call me ignorant of ethnic pride (I’m about as mixed ethnically as a mutt!), but I soon woke up the next morning to comments from a Kosovar detailing—on EVERY Kosovar photo in the album—the difference between Albanians and Kurds, historically, ethnically, linguistically, and geographically. The tone was a little unsettling and after realizing that I had accidentally friended this person without knowing them (in the long line of friend requests from Kosovar students I had met), I deleted all of the comments and removed the culprit from my friends. 

The man then sent me an e-mail, saying that as a Yale student, I would never have titled an album “Kurds and Kosovo” without more “profound intentions” and that he took it that I was claiming Kurds and Albanians were of the same ethnic group. He went on to give me a history of how the Albanians were there for a longer period of time and were their own distinct ethnic group. In short, he was offended.

In my manner, I felt guilty. I sent him a very thought out response, explaining to him that, as a Yale Student, my intentions were no more profound than alliteration and the fact that I had been in the two places within each other. We aren't super humans! I changed the name of the album at his request and apologized for the misunderstanding, explaining to him how I would be returning to Kosovo in the future for study and work hopefully because of the good impression I had. I mentioned that, as the ethnic mutt of an American I am, I apparently didn’t fully grasp the ethnic conflicts he had experienced. I did write a note about how I thought he should have messaged me to clarify the situation before posting his comments all over my album though!  

He e-mailed back, apologizing whole-heartedly, explaining that after years of Balkans ethnic wars, he had taken me as an enemy of Albania. He explained how grateful he was that I wanted to come back and that he was very sorry for acting on such a strong instinct instead of using his reason. I could see where he was coming from. He explained that he too was a naturalized US citizen (though not the ethnic mutt like me!) and his brother had served in Iraq. He was very grateful to America and had studied at CUNY. He also stated that Yale students "weren't super humans, but close to it! ;)" 

I e-mailed him back and thanked him for his honest response. I was amazed at what just happened and I told him. What a soft diplomacy experience we had together! I couldn’t believe it! I asked him if I could tell our story on the blog and he said he would be honored.

The experience helped me realize the tremendous political potential of Facebook. The next day, I told my friend that I solved a soft diplomacy crisis on Facebook. She said, “Why Facebook?” Exactly.

Wake up world! If you thought your Facebook relationship status started heated conflict, imagine what it does in Iran. But also realize how powerful it is in cultural understanding, exchange, and creating even stronger ties after wording mishaps.

My status later stated "Danielle Tomson: has been enlightened on the diplomatic powers of Facebook. Welcome to the rest of the world...." I don’t think I got so many “Likes” from internationals on that status than any other I had before…

 

 

NEW BORN : Kosovo Recap in 10 Points

After the JADE Summer Meeting of Junior Enterprises in Prishtina, Kosovo,

I feel NEWBORN.

Some Hallmark Card once told me inspiration and hope have the power to give birth to a new sense of self, understanding, and purpose. Goddamit, it was right! 

Right in the  city center of Prishtina (the capital of Kosovo), there lies the letters to make up "NEWBORN" from Kosovo Independence Day on February 18, 2008. This makes it the youngest country in the world, which currently, 62 countries recognize--including the United States and Saudi Arabia. How to truly explain/organize my time there is difficult without being excessively verbose, so I have: 

 10 POINTS YOU NEED TO KNOW ABOUT MY TIME IN KOSOVO 

1) HOLD UP? Where is Kosovo? What is a Kosovar? 

Kosovo is located in the Balkans south of Serbia and north of Albania and Macedonia. Some of the borders are still disputed, as it is such a young country. Long story made VERY short, Kosovo for the longest time was part of Serbia. However, Kosovo is made up of ethnic Albanians mostly (though they have a multicultural/multiethnic population of Serbians and Turks) and Serbians are Serbians. Kosovars had been fighting for independence through the 90's until the conflict came to a violent head in 1999, when NATO (with the help of Bill Clinton) intervened. Later in 2008, Kosovo declared its independence. Though it is ethnically tied to Albania, there are many Serbian, Turkish, and Bulgarian Kosovars. Though they claim to practice Islam, most are just culturally Muslim. 

The country is overwhelmingly multicultural, religiously plural, and multiethnic. There is a strong sense of being a KOSOVAR (kind of like what America used to be, right?) 

2) WHY WAS I THERE???//WHAT IS JADE???

In May, I was in Brussels working with AEGEE (the European Students Forum) conducting the Ivy Europe Middle East Conference. Florent Barel, from JADE Junior Enterprises, was invited to speak at our conference. JADE is a network of 20,000+ Junior Entrepreneurs from around Europe, all of which run Junior Enterprises, which are like non-profit organizations/businesses that work in management, consulting, or product sales. The aim is to give practical experience to theoretical knowledge. JADE also has a sister network in Brazil, called Brazil Junior. 

About a month later, I get an e-mail from Lindita Komani, JADE's international enlargement manager, saying (this is me paraphrasing in "Amuurican English") "Yo, we want JADE's network in America. We know you do this sorta thing. Come to Kosovo." To which my response was (after rethinking my trips to Greece or Amsterdam), HELL YES! (When else would I have the incentive to go to Kosovo...)

Throughout the year, JADE has various meetings to bring members together. This Summer Meeting was held in Prishtina with a focus on Sustainable Development in Business in the 21st century, particularly using Kosovo as a case study. 

3) Kosovo is young. And Youthful. 

Kosovo is truly a "NEWBORN" country, with under-30-year-olds making up about 70% of the population. Lets put this into perspective: 

Upon meeting a professor from the American University of Kosovo, he invited me to meet his Professional Studies Class--where he teaches members of the cabinet about International Law, Politics, Political Economy etc.  Classes to run a country basically. I went to a local cafe and basically had a beer with Kosovo's various ministers. Most were under 30. 

The Director of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs was 27. Yea. Most Americans this age can only do this sort of thing on "Empire Earth" or "Sim City." Youth are running this country. 

Prishtina screams youth. There are almost as many discos as supermarkets. New store and cafe facades a la New York City pop up over old buildings with concrete peeling on top and barbed wire fences. Most of the youth are coming back from the USA or Austria to claim the opportunity of running their new country. 

People are selling their farms to send their children to university. It is amazing. 

When the panelists at the conference spoke to us, they spoke to us as if we were CEO's of major companies here to invest. The thing is, there is no franchising or branding. Kosovo depends on small start ups to invest. So essentially, we were their future. There is a spirit of entrepreneurship, of starting new, of starting something of one's own after years of, after one panelist put it, "Communism, Socialism, then I don't know what." 

4) Kosovo is rebuilding with optimism

Okay, so the numbers look grim economically. 95% import with 5% export. Loans at 14-16%. Yet EVERYWHERE you look, there is building. Bricks and car sales are way up. They are trying to build a new power plant. Everyone is opening a cafe, a telecom company, an IT firm, a consultancy office, a bank, a disco. Barbed wire and the UNHCR building sit next to the Route 66 Burger Cafe. We visited many small start ups, including MDA (Consulting and Management), Cacttus (IT), and even a fashion designer, Krenare Rugova, who studied/worked at Parsons in NYC and in Paris (please see my fashion blog)

The conflict is visible, but deteriorating, quite literally. For instance, the 10-13 floors of "Grand Hotel Prishtina" where I stayed was accessible via stairs. These floors were used during the war as "Interrogation" centers (use your imagination), according to the American Journalists we met there. The floors were stripped of their carpet and there was evidence of old electrical fires. Look off the roof and you could see a city of satellites. Old concrete and barbed wire walls are falling. In their place, new facades and signs of new businesses were coming up. 

As Mimoza Kusari, from the American Chamber of Commerce most powerfully said at a Panel on July 18th,  “We exist. The war is over, it is long over. We have to be in charge. We have to be trusted.”

5) Religious Plurality (ahem Secularism) in Kosovo

Most people are surprised to know that Kosovo is made up of primarily Muslims. This is almost a misnomer. No where else can you hear an electronic, recorded call to prayer. This would be so Harram anywhere else. Most Kosovars are very secular. Religion is a cultural thing that poses no problem to them. 

I did go to a 15th century Serbian Orthodox monastery in Kosovo, where I crashed three weddings in 30 minutes. It was guarded by Swedish military forces and I saw Irish NATO walking around. Kids were singing 50 cent to me while asking for money. I saw the most beautiful frescos of my life in that little monastery. I kissed them. The smell of incense came over me and a reverence filled me, like an imploding explosion. The Serbian Nun (who spoke perfect English) had help me out after a moment... 

Christians and Muslims live in peace in Kosovo. They drink together, that is for damn sure. 

6) Kosovo is Safe

Kosovo recently joined the IMF and the World Bank, as well as OPIC. This is a testament to the development of the country. Never did I feel directly in danger (though I always kept my guard up!) While there remains to be some ethnic tensions between Albanians and Serbians, some small crimes arising etc, this is nothing compared to say NYC or something. The War is over though. Move on friends. 

7) Kosovo is Wired

I cannot get Youtube in Turkey, but I can in Kosovo. Free wi-fi zones are EVERYWHERE. We visited many small IT companies. Everyone has a cell phone, yet Vodafone does not exist there yet, only the domestic carrier, Ipko. Everyone is very knowledgeable of global news, culture, events. Satellites are everywhere. It was their only way out. 

Driving down the broken highway on a flat tire listening to Kanye along the border is something I will never forget. 

8) Kosovo LOVES America

Rt. 66 Burgers and Fries. American Flags everywhere. More than America. Bill Clinton Street intersecting with Mother Theresa Street. Celebrations for the 4th of July. People blessing me everywhere I went. People naming their children Bill Clinton or Hillary. This is about the only place on the European Continent where you see so much pride for America. Everyone speaks English too! (Along with Albanian)

9) Kosovo can be the Future

People seem to have forgotten about Kosovo in the scholarly community. Everyone is packing up and going to the Israeli-Palestinian conflict or Iraq. Perhaps rightfully so. 

Yet Kosovo offers itself as a multicultural, multiethnic, religiously plural country, who needed help to be liberated with US intervention. Sounds like Iraq, right? Kosovo could be a model of post-conflict development if we only give it the chance to be so. We need to study it, give it a chance, invest in it, REMEMBER it. 

In the main square, there is a building that says, in English, "WE ARE THE FUTURE." In many ways, they are. They have the capability to fashion a whole new sort of state and be the model to the world for this. 

In short, this multiethnic, multicultural, religiously pluralistic (Muslim and Christian!), youthful, and young country is everything the EU wants to be and everything America stands for--at least value/ideal wise. Granted, Kosovo has a long way to go, but the fact that it symbolizes these values is gigantic. 

10) Kosovo and Me

I suddenly find myself as a "soft" diplomat for America. I find myself thinking of different business plans every moment. I'm reading everything I can on the Balkans. I am basically giving myself a crash course in international investing and real estate. I'm so eager I cannot sleep. 

I had a long conversation with Lindita (which I won't share entirely here). Lets just say that the memory of what Kosovo has gone through is definitely not forgotten, but there remains a spirit, not just in business, but in art, politics, and music too that exists to keep everyone going. 

I don't know how such a small country can have such a huge power on me. Everyday, I get bombarded with emails and Facebook messages from curious Kosovars, who want to know why I was there, if I'm coming back, if I liked the country. They are the most curious, proud, and kind people I have met in quite some time. 

I'm exhausted but energized with life. With pride. With Hope. With innovation. With creativity.  "Yes, We Can" is a motto for the world, but "NEWBORN" is an idea for the future of it. 

 

A Snapshot of Kosovo on 12 hours of Sleep... in 4 days

I am broken. The struggle bus has a flat tire. I am officially going to my bed and praying the sheets are not going to make me break out in a rash. 

But all this aside. I am more excited and inspired than I have been since.... well maybe ever. 

Why? My experience in Kosovo. 

I will go into this later, but I wanted to leave my community with a glimpse of the people, the nation, the spirit, and the nature of this self proclaimed "Newborn" country. 

Flying back on a delayed jet, with no working camera, and little sleep, with a pilot who was probably a fighter jet pilot at some point by the barrel turns we made, I was seated next to a Turkish/ Albanian looking guy. He did not have the typical "Former Republic of Yugoslavia" look about him. He grabbed a Turkish newspaper and politely sat a seat away from me. He offered me chewing gum after our meal and that broke the ice (this is a trick I always use!) Turns out his father was Turkish but his mother was Albanian. He was living in Prishtina with his family. His wife is Bulgarian and their son's name is Edward. He owns two toystores. One in Prishtina and one in Istanbul. He traded in Istanbul and Hong Kong. His dream is to open a Toys "Rooys" or Toys 'R Us in Kosovo. He worked for 10 years without much money but the past 3 years have made it up. He is fluent in Albanian and Turkish, with decent English. He may have a Turkish passport, but he loves Kosovo as his own country and loves American for what it has done there and what it represents: multicultural, multifaith, strong democracy, entrepreneurial values. 

After four days of meeting with the ministers of this country (most under 30, as 70% of the pop is under 30), young business people from all over Europe with JADE Junior Enterprise Network, and witnessing Kosovo, this story is a great picture of what Kosovo is becoming and is: multicultural, multifaith, a recent democracy, with stronger entrepreneurial instincts than what most American have. Plus they love American--Bill Clinton street intersects with Mother Teresa Street in the center of town. 

Welcome to the best kept secret in political science, business, and the developing, post-conflict world. That no one knows about. 

Now we do.

Adventure into Kurd Land: An Account in Photos

I had one of the most amazing weekends of my life. 

Yes, ladies and gents. I ventured into what I will call "Kurd land" --South East Anatolia. Yes, this is the same ethnic group in Northern Iraq that is fighting (sometimes very violently) for autonomy. I took my trusted co-worker Edgar, and two yalie friends, Lynda and Pawel on this journey. 

My itinerary is as follows: 

Friday: Fly to Urfa. Spend time there. Midnight drive North to Nemrut Dagi for Sunrise. 

Saturday: Nemrut at Sunrise, travel south to Urfa. Travel to Mardin via Diyarbakir (known as the "capital" of the Kurds) 

Sunday: Mardin then Hasankeyf. Spend the night with "Doga" or "Nature" NGO

Monday: Hasankeyf, Batman, and Diyarbakir before flying back to Istanbul 

Because the experience is more personal and definitely in my journal, I will show some select pictures to you to explain some salient points. 

URFA: Pictured above you see part of Urfa, one of the most religious cities in Turkey. My friends, I spent most of my day veiled. The call to prayer here is mystifying and powerful, as it should be for the birthplace of the prophet Abraham. Pictured here is the cave where he was born. Urfa had a unique effect on me: It was a farmer's town but also a salvage town of flea markets. Everyone had a moustache. It smelled like my bubby's house. In some odd way, I felt like I was revisiting my childhood and reinvestigating where I came from, on so many levels. 

NEMRUT DAGI: Built in 62 BC, these statues of Greek, Persian, and Armenian Gods watch the sunrise everyday. I wanted to as well. So after calling up a travel company, we soon found ourselves driving through Kurdish countryside for 5 hours on back roads at midnight. Our driver, Yousef, was just about the craziest and most popular guy in the industry (which is tiny...not many international tourists come here). He had limericks and rhymes and nicknames for each of us. I was "Princess Diana Danielle Topatin." Apparently we were going to Mexico with him... Anyways. Nemrut Dagi to me was the most... well. I am lost for words. There are somethings that cannot and should not be described. I refused to take pictures of the sunrise itself (a sort of primordial soup that looked like the earth and sky were one, with a scar of red bleeding through the center), but found more interest in the awe of man. What is truly amazing is our reverence for nature. The fact that I climbed a mountain at 3 AM in FREEZING cold weather to see this is one thing. The sunrise itself is inexplicable. However, the fact that someone wanted to build a tomb or a monument up there in respect for nature--now that is inspiring. 

Yousef also took us on more excursions to see Greek, Roman, Persian, Seljuk, and Ottoman ruins. Here I'm just climbing on a rock. Yes, that is a steep drop..... The little bugger, for 60+ years old was spry. Being that we were in bible land, he also took us to swim in the Euphrates. I discovered a love for apricots with him. 

We got to Mardin, eventually (the bussing there... checkpoints because of Kurd/Turkish tension, kinda scary). It is a beautiful city on a hill. Perfect defense strategy because you could see so far into the distance, it looked like the earth and the sky were one. However, I can't say the same about the place we stayed. the walls were falling into the mountain side and the shower did not work. That said, I had a goodnight sleep there. We had an excellent dinner at a restaurant actually owned by a woman--the first I have seen outside of Istanbul. Normally men do the cooking. These pictures don't do the city justice. Look it up online. It is such an amazing city....

Next to Hasankeyf. My friends at TOG hooked me up with an NGO there called "Doga" or "Nature." They are trying to save Hasankeyf from the flooding the dam building will cause. Luckily, it stopped this past Wednesday! Hasankeyf it basically a city of caves along water. One of the most beautiful and untouched sites I have ever seen. The city only has one motel, but we stayed in the "Nature house" instead. Hence the inflatable couch you see--where I slept instead of the bed: I like couches more. It was a concrete building with plastic table clothes on the roof, but it was so quaint. Hasankeyf is only like 2,000 people and many have parents who used to live in the cave. The city dates back before Christ and has an amazing castle on a cliff--where I am standing, overlooking an old bridge. The river is the Tigris. So YES, I swam in BOTH the Tigris and Euphrates river. We joked that if we were carried away by the current, call Baghdad and warn them we will be there soon... Hasankeyf taught me about temperance, about living a life of happiness, simplicity, good fruit, and doing things when they need to be done. Live a good healthy life for your body--and don't be afraid to have a cigarette at 2 AM to get the mosquitos away..... 

The next day we had breakfast in a cave and set out for Batman to go to Diyarbakir. We eventually get to Diyarbakir and tour the old Ulu Camii in the 43 degree celsius heat, or 109 degrees F. IT WAS HOT. We are eventually won over by an English/Spanish/turkish/Kurdish speaker outside of the mosque. I knew he was selling carpets. He took us in for chai a street over. Soon I was haggling for carpets. The one guy, Hasan, pictured above worked for ABC and NBC as a Kurdish translator. He showed me business cards of the men he worked with and how he does an international rug trade. Kurdish rugs are quite a different game. Apparently business has soured with recent conflict, but he loves the adventure it provides. We became great friends and I basically stole the rug I liked from him: a medium size on for my dorm room, half carpet, half kilim, made by nomad around 50 years ago. This place had OLD rugs... Not a SINGLE tourist in site. Who goes to the capital of the Kurds for vacation? Not even the Turks....  We also went to an Assyrian Church (not Orthodox under Batholomew) of like 30 people. The church was built in the 1100s and the people still worship there speak Aramaic... AMAZING. 

So all in all this was an adventure. THERE IS SO MUCH MORE TO TELL YOU I HAVE ONLY SCRATCHED THE 1%. I will stop though and you just have to ask me questions..... So many coincidences, so many experiences. So many thoughts. I loved this area. I feel in culture shock now.

BTW: MY RASH IS FROM MY DETERGENT! Yay for figuring that one out.... 

Refugees and "Ruffians": The Many Faces of Youth Work

Get ready for a plethora of blog posts. I'm catching up after a busy work week and one of the most amazing weekends of my life.

So last Monday I went to the UNHCR refugee house here in Turkey. The refugees there were supposedly under 18, all men/boys, from Afghanistan, Guinea, and Sudan. They were found on the streets of Turkey and sent here. Turkey does not recognize anyone with "refugee" status outside of the EU (funny right?) so they are illegals, without status really, living in a house in Turkey that is loosely gated. 

I went in, left my passport at the gate and proceeded to meet with the "mistress?" of the household. She told us about how the boys do not go to school, but rely on the kindness of strangers to give them classes in English, Turkish, and computers. They all try to get their paperwork done to try to go to countries that will accept them as refugees (like New Zealand and Australia)--this is a long and tough process though. 

So I go in the Computer Salon. All of the Sudanese and some Afghans are there. Its mostly separated along racial lines, except for the few "diplomats" who learned English/Turkish or the other group's language and acts as a sort of voice for each group. Some boys picked up Turkish in only one year... So bright, so intelligent... Most of the boys who come anyways have to be bright-- how else could they escape their countries and get to Turkey? 

But going back to race lines: The Sudanese seemed better dressed in athletic wear and took the computer room. The Afghans were in lounge wear and had the kitchen--they tended to be younger. The guys from Guinea were the oldest and biggest and owned the TV room. They spoke French. 

All of them had cell phones--where they got them from or who they were calling, I know not. This is something I am going back to research. Most also had facebooks and used skype. They were very computer literate and all were soccer enthusiasts--- duh. Many had casts because of serious soccer games. Ouch. 

We played some rather juvenile games with the guys, which I thought might be patronizing at first. But in the end, they were fun and brought all the races together for some fun. I liked it too. Someone asked if I felt uncomfortable being in a room with grown men (basically) who were refugees---if I felt threatened. In response: I feel more threatened on the streets of Istanbul by Turkish men than these men. I was treated with such respect. 

I was so fascinated by the dynamics of the group, the stories these boys have to tell, and how the system works. I will be returning to work with the guys some more and basically, chill out with them. Often times, Youth Work means just inspiring someone.... 

NEXT: On Thursday I ended up taking a group of young Turkish Teenagers from TOG to the Istanbul Modern Art Museum.  Now, I consider myself generally pretty good with Art History--I am in fact. Yet, there is always something refreshing about taking people who aren't "art snobs" to the art museum. There is something fresher and more honest in how they view the art. To me, going to a museum for Youth Work is an experience of somehow banging two facets of my life together: Art snobbery and frankness. 

For instance, I can judge what influences of either French, American, German or British art movements might have affected the art there. However, I know nothing of the Turkish tradition. The boys would point at pictures and ask me not about the style or period, but rather where the picture was painted. Some of them, they recognized as parts of Istanbul. Other things, like the Turkish Peasant Revolutionaries (The Kuva-i Milliye) or Grease wrestling was important. The representation and history, the Turkish identity was so important to them--which I hadn't thought of. They also touched the oil paintings, making me CRINGE, so composure was different too. 

On one painting of a nude woman, a boy took out his dictionary and said, "Contradiction." I asked why. He basically said that Turkish woman normally cover up and here she is nude! The same boy pointed out one of the artists and told me about his dislike for him as a writer apparently. 

One boy really stayed close with me and a translator, curious about sharing what he thought of some of the more modern art. He relied on my interpretations, until I told him to share his first. The way he looked at things, searching for "representation," not necessarily some other things like color harmony, style, technique, blahblahblah--you gain a new respect for the artwork and the way it speaks to each individual. Each youngster spent a lot of time with each painting, more than I had expected in some ways. Normally people just breeze through... these youngsters spent a lot of time contemplating each painting--we couldn't even get through the whole gallery on the first floor in 2 hours! 

So while my experience with youth work varies with different types of people and different places, I learned the value of listening, chilling, and the importance of just hoping you can inspire someone the way they inspire you... 

Sisters and Shish--Ankara Means Family

Ankara is not a beautiful place. Anyone from Istanbul will be the first to tell you that. In fact, some call it down right hot, ugly, stately, stuck up, and an inorganic city that sprang out of no where to become capital for Ataturk (hey, each empire had a different capital, Seljuks--Konya, Ottomans--Bursa/Istanbul, Atatruk--Ankara). 

That said, there was definitely something beautiful in going to Ankara for me this weekend. I.E. my sister Gabrielle. I learned a few things about what it meant to live in a family again--and how my life (i.e. me) has changed so much in the past year. 

Friday morning, I got into Ankara. Thankfully, Murat picked me up at the bus terminal. We had a serious breakfast overlooking the Bosphorus of cars on a new highway. Many old or little houses were springing up in between the ugly new apartment buildings--illegal, but then they become legal when they vote for a politician. Welcome to Ankara. 

If you thought party politics were insane in the US, look at Turkey. Military coups have erupted after party conflict (most recently in the early 80s) and even today, people go to Universities or clubs based on party lines. According to Taner--Gabbi's Turkish/Australian host father--these party lines infiltrate the schools. All coming from this all holy structure called the Turkish Grand National Assembly.

I visited the Assembly on Friday with Murat, a Political Advisor friend to one of the MPs. The building looked like something out of 1984--very stately and Ataturk was everywhere, watching. It felt much like a consuming building and the lawn care was wild and lacking (grass up to my ankles...) but that aside, I found the main assembly chamber fascinating. There was so much bustling about--and that is an understatement when it comes to Gossip. Each MP's advisor gave me the low down about lazy tea guys (yes, there are "cay" or tea kitchens--at least two on every floor) or who is dating who. I felt like I was in "The Office," Turkish edition.  I could go on and on about the state of Turkish politics, but somehow, just turn on your favorite political show--add some crazy architecture--and then add Turkish and tea et voila. 

Later, Gabbi and I met up at her Turkish American Cultural Center. Gabbi, my younger 16 year old sister (or 17 according to Turkish people- you count the first year here. So i'm... 20!!!!!!), is studying with the State Department's National Strategic Language Initiative---the thing I did in Cairo last year. She is living with a fabulous host family of 3 sisters, a mum, and a dad--plus a grandmother who went to visit family in Australia. Her host father grew up mostly in Australia, in many ways avoiding the political conflicts that plagued the country during the times he was growing up in Ankara. It was absolutely warming to hear him speak with an Aussie accent. Though the daughters (17, 14, and 7 or so) spoke mainly Turkish, when they did speak in English, it had a fabulous Aussie Accent. They also took milk in their tea--a first for any Turk I have seen here.

But aside from going around and doing some shopping for pants, shoes, and books, I got a taste of family life again. Aside from my faux pax of not taking my shoes off at the threshold of the door or not knowing how to properly kiss the great-grandmother's hand when she came over (or not know where to dispose of my feminine .... ahem), I think I got along alright with typical Turkish culture. That aside, it was the family dynamic itself that threw me off. I guess after living with a bunch of "young" people without older adults or children, I had gotten rusty with what a mixed generation household felt like. It felt warming, comforting, loving. Yet also, slower, more orderly and much more routined. I had forgotten that when I was a kid in a household, I too had duties assigned by my parents. Now, I clean or have "duties" when the duties demand (looking at some dishes right now... meh.) Her host family (and my "adopted family") had a lovely home with a small bird and the Obama Chia Pet Gabbi brought. It was clean and pristine to the max. Everything was orderly. It was a household for people who knew what was important and necessary in life. 

We are great Americans. Gabbi and I went to Ataturk's memorial on the 4th of July. I must say, seeing something like that makes me proud to be the Turk that I am not. The architecture was novel, epic, and "other" on so many planes. It had neither time nor historical reference, yet it was a monument to all of the achievements that lay buried beneath the dirt in Ankara from centuries past. We also went to dinner with Murat in an old citadel, which offered an amazing view--making jokes about food, the view, and life in general. 

People often ask me if I get lonely when I'm traveling abroad or living alone. The answer is a resounding YES. I do. Its only natural. No matter how close of friends I make, they will never know me quite as long as my sister has. Gabbi was such a refresher to me. She put my life into perspective again in a single weekend. No one but family, and particularly a sister can do that for you. I enjoyed and needed the warmth of a family, the hug from my sister, and even the concern from my "adopted" parents for a weekend. I felt incredibly at home and could not have thanked them enough for their hospitality. The sometimes smothering inclusivity of family is something that I miss at times.  Granted, as much as I liked revisiting this lifestyle, I was not terribly upset at going back to my flat. I liked seeing that my sister and I were adaptable and could continue our relationship cross countries, continents, and ages. It made me confident to know that I don't have to be lonely. 

Granted, I am happy to have close friends abroad, like Murat, who is so incredibly kind and hospitable--and an AMAZING chef I need to learn from. We had an excellent BBQ on sunday with Shish, Kofte, chicken, potato salad, beer, and raki. I was, as usual, the youngest in a near 30 crowd, but never fear. I laughed with the best of them and had an excellent time seeing another kind of Turkish house--those of retired diplomats. Their house honestly could have been a museum of global culture. Granted, some of the peanuts where probably many years old... Thanks for the warning Murat. 

So now that I am back home, thanks to some friends making sure I got on the bus, I truly miss that family feeling of homely hospitality. The hospitality Murat and Gabbi's host family showed was amazing and the love and familiarity of my sister (who though the same, is always showing new developments and knowledge--keeping life exciting!) made me recharged. After going so hard for literally... well... since JANUARY with work, planning, study, networking, and programming, this weekend really put my life into perspective and really got me to appreciate family on a level I never really have before. Its a quiet appreciation (though I vocalize it here), and sometimes makes me a little melancholy. Something tightens for something past or future. 

I'm going on and on, but I also realized that some things you cannot post on a blog. I started journaling more again (ergo fewer blog posts), realizing the importance of placing my more sincere, spontaneous, poetic, or secretive feelings on paper. 

Enough of this. Good night. I'll talk to you tomorrow about my refugee visit yesterday and my future plans for Diyarbakir and Kosovo in the upcoming weekends.

It's a Nice Night for a....bus ride: Thoughts on Slowing Down

People have asked me how I manage to cram all of what I'm doing into the time I have been here. Trust me, everyday is an adventure and as per usual, I don't sleep like I should (but more than school! I get at least 6-7 hours here!!) 

This week, I've slowed things down a bit to enjoy a "normal life" in Istanbul. What constitutes normal (at least for me)? Several things: 

1) I got to see the doctor. As if I lived here. (See previous post) 

2) I enjoy 5 hour dinners with Texan Turks on top of a roof of a building. You see, the Turks know how to slow it down and appreciate a good time. For instance, the next day, when we were both still hungover (or rather maybe still a little...), everyone asked, "What did YOU do last night?" To which we both replied, "We had dinner." And it was true. We had plate upon plate of mezze, delicious fish, hot pockets that are from heaven, and fruit. The fixed menu was unlimited food and drink. Hmmm... I never laughed more in Turkey than about our future gypsy tears business.

3) I grocery shop. Always an adventure. 

4) I.... cook. Yes. I cook. Or attempt it. I buy the ingredients and pray that I cook things that won't make me sick. This week, I tried making the mezze with yogurt, lemon, oil, and watercress. I forgot the garlic. I tried making a chicken, grillable cheese, zucchini, and onion dish with a peppered yogurt sauce and pasta. Not bad, but seriously needed some other flavoring. 

5) I exercise. At least a half an hour each day. Count my commute, and then you have an hour. 

6) I work. I write e-mails, and I make plenty of phone calls. 

7) I make plans for trips to visit family members. 

So this week was my first slow-ish week. Thank god. After dinner dates and surprises every day of every other week, I was happy to slow things down a bit. Until they get crazy again with some projects for work next week, my travels to the South East, and my Kosovo adventure coming up. 

Upon looking back at my time, I realized that I never had a routine really. Ever. Finally, I get one week to know what it is like. Its nice, but I'm happy next week and this week are going to be crazy once again. :) 

Tonight I'm going on a bus ride to Ankara to visit my sister. Lovely right? It may end up into a "danielle does Konya" trip on Sunday to see the birthplace of Mevlana Rumi. Who knows at this point though. I just want to take some advil PM and go to sleep on the bus.