Playing Tour Guide and Being a Daughter: The Many Sides of Danielle

I harbor within me a not-so-secret love for giving tours. Showing people around and bragging about the history, culture, and food of a place while someone pays me sounds great... kind of legitimizes what I like to do in my spare time anyway. 

So when my parents said they wanted to come to Turkey to visit my sister and me, I jumped on the chance of--for the first time ever--being a tour guide to my parents as well. Yet I was not only going to play guide, but live out the role of daughter again.

Saturday, my sister joined me in Istanbul with her host family from Ankara. We toured the Galata Tower--near where my favorite hotel and part of Istanbul is (end of Tunel, in the little Bohemian Art District, where street artists and graffiti rule). Finally, after Gabbi and I had our moments of smug mutual understanding at many a comment around us, we found our parents joking with a cab driver. Oh Dad. We were a family again. 

It was bizarre. It had been the first time we were together in months. It was glorious. We only had good times and good adventures to talk about. After saying goodbye to Gabbi's other family, we stole her for a night to go to a meyhane on the roof of a building for delicious mezze, raki, and tavuk sis (like tapas, uzo, and chicken kebab). My sister and I two-timed Turkish culture with our parents, explaining our various (and widely different) experiences with them. We had so much to talk about and conversation never ended. The night was epic, as was the view. 

The next day, I played guide--with transport, food, and sights, like the Hagia Sophia, the Blue Mosque, Topkapi Palace etc. We later had dinner with her host family and then said a painful goodbye as she went back to Ankara. 

So we were a family again for that night and day. After two months of playing employee, project manager, student, intern, co-chair, "Mama D," single lady, or yabanci "foreigner" (sorry if I misspelled!), I was a daughter and a guide. 

The next day we went to the prince islands, hired a carriage, and climbed to the top to an orthodox monastery. Later, going to Kadikoy to pick up my phone and still later, a glorious dinner on the Bosphorus at a Turkish/Asian fusion restaurant. I loved the feeling of sharing my favorite spots with my parents. Finally, I could share the love I have for this place with someone. I was guide, but more than that, I was a daughter who could finally share one of her adventures with someone. Solitude is nice, but at the end of the day, it is better when you've told someone what you did in solitude. 

Then we saw a couple at the food bar near us (very soulful little place with the best view of the first bridge!). They were covered up in blankets and eating and drinking. They looked like they had known each other for ages. My father made jokes at them for being gushy and they laughed. Of course dad bought them a drink (after an arduous task of translation...). By the end of our meal, we had another round with them. He was a "digested man" who liked "quality, not quantity" in women. He was a worldly fellow, proud of his achievements and very in love with his fiancee--in the most Turkish way possible. He worked in management of different hotels, clubs, and restaurants around the world and was quite charismatic. Quite a well connected man too. His fiancee, a financial analyst darling and calm--what a man like that needs. In short, they were love. And they only knew each other for a month. We are going to the wedding in May, btw. ;) 

You know me. I don't get mushy. I don't like too much direct sentimentality (even if I post it here... I may not say it with much heart anywhere else). But I liked it. I was sitting on the Bosporus with my parents, having a drink and the meal of my life, with a real couple sitting near. Something gave me hope and faith in the past, present, and future. It gave me hope of the many hats I can put on, and not just put on, but WEAR with a sense of ownership. What hat I will wear in 10 years is scary to think of, but to know that I'm not just acting this--that this is my life.... that is refreshing. 

So a sister guiding her sister from Ankara, in Istanbul, with her parents visiting from the US, after being in 5 different country in 2 months, chilling on the Bosporus, guiding them around the city, and experiencing all of that... coming together. Every memory of my time here and with them flooded in. Its the new face of the new sort of global families that are developing (a special story on this later). 

I like guiding people through my life I guess. Call it vain. Yet, why else do people keep blogs like this? wink wink. 

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. 

"Anarcho-Hipsters" and Hamams

The weekend is normally too packed to properly update everyday, but now I would like to share some of the highlights of my weekend: 1) The Street Art Istanbul Festival 2) Turkish Hamam 3) Dinner with a Turkish Woman. How they are all connected, I cannot tell, but here we go: 

The Street Art Istanbul Opening

Work panlists at Toplum are fascinating. Working in youth networking and development means that you instantly have access to every youth movement in Istanbul. I found an event beneath the Galata Tower celebrating the opening of a "Graffiti Arts Center" complete with DJ's, free style rap, and poli (flame throwers). 

The "Graffiti Arts Center" was not a Museum. It was a decaying old warehouse out of Gotham City. I get there around 8 PM with some friends and felt a little dressed up in my oversize men's button up, sans cigarette or beer. We decide to turn around for a drink, even just to hold so we don't look too foreign in the hip/grunge/punk/hipster/gangsta crowd we suddenly found ourselves in. Upon returning to youth central, we entered an old warehouse of 4 stories, each with works of anarchist graffiti and stickers. Albeit political, sexual, or just plain cool looking graffiti, everyone was adding to it and making their mark. In a place like Turkey where an OSS exam places you into a career and a college, youth need something to define their individuality. 

We went into the upper salon, where everyone was smoking and dancing in a sort of LA street style way. I couldn't make up my mind if I was in the 8 Mile or Terminal 5 for a Vampire Weekend Concert. Call them anarcho-hipsters, as Edgar would, or "narco-hipsters" sans narcotics. Call them a bizarre mix of LA and NYC street youth. Call them the Peripheral Underground. Call them what you will, but the flame throwers were cool. 

Check out the website. So cool: 

http://streetartistanbul.com/

Hamam

Turkey is famous for their Turkish Bath. For my afternoon, I decide to the second best Hamam in Istanbul (not the best where Tony Curtis and Franz Liszt had visited). This Hamam was built by architect Sinan in 1584, with beautiful pendentives where a large dome rests on the bath areas---one for men and one for women. The dome has holes with "elephant eye" glass to let psychedelic light in from the heavens. Turkish bath architecture usually consists of this dome with a hot flat marble stone underneath, faucets, jacuzzi bath, and then different antechambers in a colder room to lounge in. Back in the day, if a husband could not afford for his wife to go to Hamam twice a week, she had legitimate grounds to divorce him. ("Hunny, you didn't buy me massage this week. We are over!") 

My experience: I go, say goodbye to Edgar who goes to the men's side (which kind of looks like Gringott's bank I swear), then I am pushed around by large women who tell me to undress. I don't know if I should wear a swimsuit, so I just go... well, naked. I put my towel on, they hurry me into the bath room where women with tata's down to their knees (naked) are scrubbing down naked or partially naked women. They take my towel off and lay me on the hot rock. Just breathe Danielle. After 15 minutes of sweating, a women with tata's the size of my thighs starts scrubbing the skin off me and giving me a sort of back realignment. She then rinses me off, then uses a sort of pillow to bathe me. Never before had a loved the feeling of floating in a sea of foam on a rock. Amazing. She rinses me again, gives me hot panties to wear, and then I soak more. After that, I go lounge and nap. 

Who knew sweating naked on a hot rock could be so great? 

(Almost) equally cool, I went to the famed "Pudding Shop," a place for hippies back in the 60's to meet before they embarked on their trips in their VW buses for India or Afghanistan. Bill Clinton's photo was there.

Turkish Dinner

For dinner, I called up a Ph. D. student who I met at Bilgi University. After (rather boldly, if I do say) bringing up the scarf ban in public places, this woman and I instantly were connected. She wears the scarf, technically illegally, in university. At work in the government, she has to be placed under a special "contract" for "short term" work, eve if she is a long term employee. People complain about women being FORCED to WEAR the scarf. In Turkey, there is a prejudice (at least in Istanbul) towards women who CHOOSE to wear the scarf. They are FORCED NOT to wear it! (Just as bad if you ask me). 

Her driver took me to Bebek, a cute, Shadyside like part of Istanbul where the rich dock their yachts. We finally found a restaurant when her younger brother appeared. We had a lovely dinner with coffee and (for them) cigarettes. The waiter asked for my friend's number, but because his wife also wore the scarf and couldn't get employment. My friend was the only woman wearing the scarf in this really nice eating establishment. We chatted about politics, Obama (who Turks love, particularly for the religious acceptance/Arab tolerance), my acting, men, economics, and business. I won't share the intimacies of our meal, but I found it one of the best times I've had in a long time.