Brought to you by Fetih Bey

Remember how Atatürk wore whole yachts as neck ornaments?
Fethiye does. Fethiye (formerly Telmessos, renamed after Fetih Bey, a pilot in the Ottoman airfoce, in 1934) is almost a typical Turkish-Mediterranean resort town with one twist: it is a natural harbor, so it feels more like a lake than a seaside getaway. Of course like any resort town it has its charms...the boardwalk stretches on for meters and meters and features cafe after cafe directly on the water's edge and also numerous illuminated pictures of Ataturk (see above). I had lunch at Cafe Mavi in the old town, where the owner asked me a few questions about myself and then gave me a free delicious piece of homemade carrot cake. Not everyone gets such generous handouts, as I was to learn...
(That box says "Help the Pelicans...For Fish, For Money".)

The best part of the town is the old amphitheater in the hillsides.
The director of Fethiye's adorable museum lived on the slope overlooking the harbor and decided one day that some work needed to be done on his house. In the course of some construction-related digging they happened upon the ruins, and then with the help of a sizable group of local volunteers they uncovered the well-preserved 6,000-seat Roman theater pictured above. The patrons of said theater would have had a miraculous view of the harbor. This is all simply in situ, as are a few scattered Lycian tombs (such as the one fenced in next to the post office, but also there are some in the hillside), and the aforementioned adorable museum has a lovely relic-filled garden to peruse. Fethiye is certainly more interesting than a typical resort town; it's not a must-see, but it's definitely not a bad place to spend a warm day.

Snow Problem!

I woke up to the first snow in Uşak today!

In case you were wondering, the Turkish word for "snowball" is kartopu and "snowman" is karadam.

Somehow this shows respect and admiration

Amasya: Fact or Fiction?

I think the Black Sea is my favorite region of Turkey so far. I have not been to the East yet, because I generally fear the snow and cold, but something about the hilly, misty, verdant Black Sea coast really appeals to me.

As that intro may have suggested, Amasya is more or less in the Black Sea region of Turkey. It is one of those places that has been inhabited for years and years, so its local ethnography museum has some great artifacts (and TERRIFYING mostly-exposed mummies of sultans in glass cases, shudder). It also has not one but TWO museums filled with historically informative wax mannequins in two Ottoman-style buildings along the river which are only mildly frightening but overall pretty awesome.

This is what Amasya looks like at night.

The below photo was taken from the bus stop outside of the Education Sciences faculty of Amasya University. Can you spot the reason that I took a picture of the side of a hill?

That's right, our favorite statesman's face is hewn into the living rock...of Amasya.

The below photo is of a statue on the side of the Yeşilırmak river. The river basically anchors the downtown area and makes Amasya seem larger than it really is. As an aside, one of the best breakfasts in recent memory was eaten along the banks of the Yeşilırmak river at a restaurant called Strabon, which I think deserves some kind of plaque for feeding as many Fulbright guests as it has, because if a Fulbrighter visits the Amasya ETA duo, they will probably eat at this restaurant. The gözleme (like a Turkish crepe, usually with cheese inside), which is available only on Sundays, is worth the trip.

So, the legend the statue is based on has uncertain origins, and obviously the Turks claimed it as their own. The nearby mountain Ferhat is named for the hero of the legend, who for love of the princess Şirin tried to win her father's favour and permission to marry her by tunneling through the mountain to bring spring water to his palace. While he was doing this, someone informed him that the princess had died and so he threw himself onto the rocks post-haste. It turns out the princess was not dead, but after hearing the news of her lover's death she also died. Turkish authorities put a fence and a sign by a small channel in the side of the mountain which basically reads "This is definitely the channel from that legend, although historians really don't know if the story is true or where it actually happened." That's how Turkey rolls.

Musings

I have been here several months now. It's time for me to start generalizing about Turkey with more authority. There are lots of things to love about Turkey, and happily I have found more to like than dislike. Unfortunately I don't think I can ever truly share my reasons for loving Turkey with a Turkish person, because they will never understand the appeal.

Turkish hospitality does live up to the constant praise it receives in the guidebooks, but it also manifests itself in unexpected ways. Generally I would describe Turkish people as much more communal than Americans. Helping those around you is of the utmost social importance. There are the functional, practical aspects of life that have given rise to this attitude--for example, there are still town bread ovens in use (seriously--soon you will probably be able to get free wifi at the village oven while you wait for your food to cook). But there is also a tacit or explicit resistance to the American style (also known by Turks as the "European" style) of strict, "pulling-oneself-up-by-the-bootstraps" individuality that makes up such an important part of our culture. While individual drive is of course important, it is couched in the idea of putting everyone else before oneself. My interpretation of Turkish ambition is that in order to be able to provide for your friends and family, and in order to be a spectacular host, you need to earn money and have things. One improves one's position in life not just for personal gain, but in order to be that person who grabs the check at the end of the meal and says "It's on me," or to be able to afford a room with an extra bed in case anyone needs to stay the night. Of course, there are greedy, selfish people in Turkey, but just as a reminder I am dealing in generalizations and ideals in this blog post.

There are some other more lighthearted things I love about Turkey. PowerTurk, the Top 40 music channel that one can expect to see on TV's everywhere from the home of a friend to the trendiest restaurant (provided there is not a futbol match happening), is like a good friend who is always around and ready to have a good time. It's not quite as ubiquitous as teacups or likenesses of Atatürk, but it comes close. And I've come to love congregating with friends around coal-burning stoves (soba), the best example of which was that time one of my Turkish friends straight up set fire to an old pair of jeans in his soba, the flames of which we eventually used to roast chestnuts and make tea. ("Pants?!" I exclaimed in Turkish when seeing him do this. "They were old," he replied, matter of factly, with a shrug suggesting I was being some kind of pants-burning prude.) Sobalar are awesome, coal fumes notwithstanding.

Then there a things that I like about Turkey but will definitely never get used to seeing. Turkish men love their man-bags, for one. I think there is an unwritten but important rule that men over 30 must carry a small, square handbag which may or may not contain nothing but a wallet (shoulder strap optional). And speaking of men over 30, I will never be able to take them seriously when they drive around pumping Inna or other hot techno beats, sometimes with their families in tow. I also might not ever grow accustomed to men randomly singing to or at me. They break out a soulful folk tune at the most random times, and I am at a loss for what I should be doing during these impromptu concerts. (As an aside, I have been asked on several occasions to sing a song at a moment's notice, just by way of something to entertain a gathered group. This country really needs to warm up to karaoke, is all.) But what does one do when a man is singing in your direction? My Fulbright cohort posed it thusly: "Should I clap along? Nod? What facial expression should I assume?" You may think we could look to Turkish females for guidance, but they are typically already ignoring the men, and to be fair, they might be jealous that the Americans are receiving these attentions.

Turkish folk health wisdom is also a force to be reckoned with. Earlier today I was with a friend who was readying himself for a soccer game. He had donned an egregious monochrome tracksuit and was waiting for his friend to phone him. He pulled out a packet of cigarettes from his tracksuit pocket and said "It's good to smoke before a match." Another example- if one ever tires of drinking tea whilst in Turkey (I won't, but it's not unheard of), all you have to do is have a piece of fruit nearby. Turks are absolutely dumbfounded by my strange custom of occasionally enjoying a piece of fruit and a cup of tea in rapid succession. This is simply not done here. Turks also fear drafts (and a woman with wet hair is a prime target for EVERY KNOWN DISEASE), bare feet, and any dose of an antibiotic less than three times the amount an American doctor would hesitate before prescribing.

On the bright side, the fear of drafts means I almost never have to worry about being cold here. Quite the opposite in fact- I have been lucky enough to encounter much more warmth than anything else while in Uşak.

Türk Kahvesi

You know what they say...you can take the barista out of the coffee shop, but you can't actually take the coffee out of the barista (for both health-related and legal reasons).

Due to my love for (some might call it an addiction to) coffee, I learned how to make it a la Turka. Here's what you'll need.

The metal pot is called a cezve. There are different sizes to make different amounts, and there are older and newer shapes and styles. Essentially it is a small stove-top pot with a handle and a spout. You also need incredibly finely ground coffee (I got mine fresh from Tuğba, the local kuruyemiş, or dried foods store), water, and sugar. Turkish fincanlar (coffee cups) and a spoon are part of the necessary equipment. The two pictured were a gift from a coworker's mother, who, upon learning that I was only two fincan away from learning this important skill, immediately went to a cupboard and chose those two to gift me. They are thus even more beautiful than they look.

First, measure the amount of water by filling your fincan with cold water and pouring it into the cezve. This means you will get exactly the right amount of coffee when you finish. It's important to use cold water because the longer it takes to boil, the better the coffee will taste. Then, use about one and a half heaping teaspoonfuls of coffee per fincan and just heap the grounds on top of the water (don't stir). Next sugar- there are four ways to order coffee in a cafe- az şekerli (a little sugar), çok şekerli (a lot of sugar), orta (middle), or sade (plain). These definitions of course functionally mean nothing, as every cafe you go to gives you a slightly different interpretation, so I used 3 sugar cubes for two fincan and called it "orta".

Next, the fun part. Put the cezve on a burner with the heat turned up moderately high but not so high as you burn yourself reaching for the handle. Wait until the coffee boils and foams up, taking the cezve off the heat just when the foam is about to overflow. Skim the foam off the top with your spoon and put equal amounts into each fincan. Put the cezve back on the flame until it foams again, take it off the heat and turn off the stove. Carefully pour the remaining coffee slowly into each fincan, trying not to disturb the foam so it rises to the top. And that's all!

The Ottoman way to enjoy this, I was told, is to have water with it, drinking a little first to cleanse and prepare your palette, and a little afterward, probably to clean the bit of grounds out of your teeth from your last sip.

ADDENDUM: Another method dictates that you put the sugar in first, stirring it into the water as it begins to heat up until the sugar dissolves, and then adding the coffee and not stirring anymore so the foam forms. I find this method produces slightly better foam, but if you're lazy or forget, the above-described no-stir method works perfectly fine.

Tiptoeing in the Travertines

This weekend my ev arkadaş and I went to a coworker's family's house in a nearby town, Denizli. It is famous for its textiles and perhaps moreso, for Pamukkale. Pamukkale ("cotton castle/fortress") is a geological formation with natural hot springs and travertines, or terraces of carbonate minerals left by the flowing water. Our English pamphlet (yours for the "low" entry price of 20TL) gave us, helpfully, the chemical formula for the reaction that forms the carbonate travertines. ("The reaction is Ca(HCO3) + O2 --> CaCO+CO2+CO+H20, chemically".) In any case, Pamukkale is also the cite of a sizable ruined Roman city, and the ruins are well-reconstructed and mostly in situ.

There are many tombs like the below surrounding the ruined city, which I believe I read somewhere is due to the supposed healing properties of the mineral hot springs being a last-ditch effort for the near-dead, and thus when they were not cured by the waters they died and were buried outside. So it goes.

These are travertines that you are NOT allowed to walk in. The water is actually pumped in- the hot springs do not produce water continuously, but the travertines look most beautiful with water in them. Solution? Pipes.

However there are other ones that you are allowed to wade in to your heart's content, and most people do. There is also a bath or pool area, but it costs extra.

This is a picture of two of the four pomegranate trees in my host's backyard. Her family gave me many pomegranates during the course of my three day stay and a small sack of them before I went home. I was a happy house guest.

My coworker's family was, predictably, impressed with my roommate's and my Turkish skills (for knowing no Turkish, she has improved greatly, but also it only takes a "Merhaba" to get complimented on your Turkish skills in most situations). They also predictably commented on how I look foreign but she looks Turkish (I have had one family tell me, "I can tell you are foreign from your face. Like Hilary Clinton," which I hope was likening me in foreignness to Hilary Clinton and not in facial resemblance). I bought a jezve, or Turkish coffee pot, and practiced making Türk kahvesi in their mutfak (kitchen). My coworker's mother was quite happy with me after this (even though my coffee was not the best), and would ask me to pour tea and assess my ability (or lack thereof) to carry a tray of beverages without spilling. Clearly she was grooming me to be an excellent Turkish housewife.

Just like Whitney Houston sang....

Antalya, I will always love you. Antalya is kind of like the Florida Keys of Turkey, although there were no giant murals of undersea life painted on the sides of buildings, which is an important feature of the Keys. No, instead there where images of Ataturk and Turkish flags on almost every conceivable surface, because this weekend was Republic Day. Even though the town is incredibly touristy, one gets the sense of why-- it's also incredibly beautiful. The deep and incomparable blue of the Mediterranean is the foreground against a background of imposingly beautiful mountains.

To avoid sounding like a guidebook, I will just post some pictures. They are so postcard-like that they are almost boring.

A Fulbright friend made this awesome rock tower. Rock beaches are cool because you can lay on the rocks that have been warmed by the sun (like so many reptiles), but definitely bring some kind of sandals. The tower marked the site of my first swim in the Mediterranean, and an excellent afternoon picnic.

Right before I got on Antalya's tram system to leave town...

I stayed at the White Garden Pansiyon, which was totally reasonably priced (30TL a night) and was beautiful, "a good site for a harem", in my words, "beguilingly restored" in the words of the Lonely Planet.

Oh! We also managed to find an English-language bookstore, which was really kind of the front of the house with no back wall that opened into a garden, with shelf upon shelf of books that the owner, a man who resembled Beauregard the Muppet in speech and form, had read once upon a time. He offered to make us fish with fennel and white wine (sadly, we were leaving several hours later, so we could not accept) and then told us that next time we come to Antalya we should bring him English books, because he prefers trading to selling.

This is part of the parade for Republic Day. It featured a seemingly endless stream of high school and grammar school students, often in drum and bugle lines.

There was also a crazy rock concert thing that we did not get to on time in the main square in front of (what else) the statue of Atatürk, but we had the perfect vantage point for the Republic Day fireworks.

I personally am still a little unsure about what Turks think of Republic Day. Maybe the rock and roll and lazer light show in the main square would have helped me get a better sense of things (probably!). When I returned to Uşak, though, and asked about Republic Day, most people did not even acknowledge its passing, or so it seemed.

The Fulbrighters in Antalya thanked Atatürk during the fireworks for his many contributions to Turkish life that we have benefited from, such as an alphabet we can read. There was a surprise Republic Day gift awaiting us when we returned to our respective cities, as well - the ban of youtube was repealed that weekend! Now I can once again watch old Eurovision videos to my heart's content with no need to mask my IP address - truly, a Republic Day miracle.

Anadolu mola

Look at this beast!

The internet in this bus is faster than the internet in my apartment. Seriously, I cannot describe how much I love Turkish buses. They are five-star hotels on wheels- they give you a snack (sometimes TWO snacks) and a beverage (Turks are the only people I can think of who thought 'Hey, doling out cups of boiling water inside a moving vehicle sounds like a good idea...'), and often will give you a blanket or pillow if you ask, AND the newest and nicest buses have in-bus WCs in addition to 3G internet, MP3s, TV, movies, and video games. What more could you need? Anadolu, the major company which has one of its home otogars in Uşak, is happily one of the best. They ALSO offer magazines and bad novels to read, and little disposable coverlets for your headset.

I'm on my way to Antalya now, by the way. It's Republic Day Weekend, so no afternoon class!

The Call to Prayer

I've come to like hearing the sound of the call to prayer (Turkish ezan) throughout my day here. It marks the passing of time in the day kind of like dog-eared pages of a book. I heard a rumor that the call is played or recited (sometimes it is prerecorded, sometimes sung live) at slightly different times every day in every part of Turkey so that someone is praying everywhere, at every moment of the day, every day (obviously this would be contingent on people praying in other parts of the world, but still). That's a really interesting and cool result of a unified religion, no?

In any case, out of respect, televisions and radio are muted or turned off when the call to prayer is heard. Many people keep talking or eating or whatever it was they were doing, but electronic background noises are muted. Today I caught myself turning off my music when I heard it- I didn't really do it on purpose, and I was alone in my room, but it still seemed somewhat rude to not turn my music down. I know some secular Turks bristle at this auditory symbol of the religious ideology their country is steeped in...but as a secular American with no real Muslim ties to speak of, I just find it a pleasant reminder that I am living in Turkey.

The Turkish Twist

One of the more witty and insightful Fulbrighters came up with a neat little phrase that summarizes Turkey perhaps more aptly than the "four T's". We call it "The Turkish twist", which is not a dance (I will invent that later), but rather, the strange ways that a perfectly normal experience is rendered confusing and stressful for no real reason other than the fact that we are in Turkey.

For example (mesela), two weekends ago I went to Sinop. I had a lovely time with the three other Fulbrighters there and got to see the Black Sea, eat fresh fish in a floating restaurant, and hone my tavla (backgammon) skills. However, after the first night of staying in the polisevi (police house, where the two Sinop Fulbrighters were living), the front desk staff brusquely informed us that it was NOT A HOTEL and refused to give the Sinop duo their keys on the second night. Even though between the two of them they have six beds, apparently you need "permission" from "[insert bureaucrat here]" in order to stay there. So, I ended up taking the night bus home, and the other non-Sinop visitor found a new place to stay. It didn't ruin the weekend, but it did cause a few moments of unnecessary stress. The Turkish twist.

Sinop as seen from near a cafe that is on the northernmost point in Turkey.

This is part of the Sinop harbor, where apparently cruise ships dock from time to time.


As for last weekend, I went to Eskişehir and Uşak's neighboring big-ish city, Afyonkarahisar. The Turkish twist in Eskişehir for me was that the "EsTram" there, while adorable and convenient, did not magically get me to the otogar on time, so I ended up missing my scheduled bus at 11AM, changing my ticket to the 1PM bus, taking the tram back to city center, going on a short (and awesome) gondola ride in the canal, and then immediately getting back on the tram to go to the bus station to leave. Eskişehir is the best potential site of a Fulbrighter romantic comedy, so we decided. I am slowly easing myself into bigger Turkish cities--this weekend, Antalya, perhaps next weekend, Izmir, and then maybe...Istanbul?

Look at how cute this tram is.

A beautiful mosque which I did not go in to because even though I had a scarf at hand, I did not have a female guide to prevent me from making some kind of sacrilegious mistake. Another mosque, another time.

"I just got [to Eskişehir], and I think I know why no Fulbrighter was placed here."
"Why?"
"Because it's AWESOME."

The last-second gondola ride on the canal.

I am glad for my extra 45 minutes or so in Eskişehir because it allowed me to take just enough pictures to illustrate its cuteness, which I hadn't before, spending most of my time in Kahve Dünyası (a chain here, trans. coffee world) nibbling a chocolate spoon that came with my salep (a popular drink here made from the roots of orchids). I didn't take pictures of Afyon because it was night and I mostly only ate dinner there.

But back to the Turkish twist...yesterday morning, I got to teach my first class. Of course this could not happen without some kind of scheduling malfunction! (As an aside: I actually am totally in love with the lackadaisical attitude towards class here. I realized not too long ago that the reason classes last 4 hours is that a "ten minute break" inevitably means a "25 minute break", and teachers and students come late or leave early pretty much at random, so if classes were allotted a normal amount of time, next to nothing would ever get done.)

Anyways...the twist? My class actually did not come at all, or, as I perhaps more accurately speculate, they came to class around 8:30 but left the room before I arrived at 9:40, because my Fulbright coworker and I were not shown where our classrooms were until an hour after the scheduled starting time, due to our guides needing to finish their breakfast and drink their tea first. So we taught one class together (instead of two different classes separately, but at the same time) for about two and a half hours, which was perfectly OK. I am just happy to be doing what I came here to do, and the "students" (actually mostly department heads, assistant professors, and other bigwigs) are enthusiastic and do not need too much coercion to speak. Heck, they even seemed to enjoy themselves a little bit, but I don't want to get too cocky. Eventually (inşallah!) we will know when and where we are teaching each day more than five minutes before class or at least not an hour in to the start of class.

So you're saying it's NOT about ice cream...

Recently my fellow Uşak Fulbrighter and I visited a primary school in a neighboring town. It was here that we happened upon an answer to a question that had been haunting us for days. We had been wondering...what's the deal with those chimes that play the first few bars of Für Elise at somewhat regular intervals throughout the day? Apparently, this is the sound of school bells in primary schools in Uşak. Sadly it did not herald the imminent arrival of the dondurmacı, as we had previously hoped.

Horsin' Around

This past weekend I went on my first real Turkish excursion. Where? To the Aegean, of course! More specifically, Ayvalık, Çanakkale, and Truva, the latter known to the rest of the world as Troy.

In other words, I went from this:


To this:


Ayvalık is a really neat little town. I think it would be an amazing weekend destination in warmer weather (it was incredibly windy and chilly when we were there) and has some of the best beaches in Turkey, so I'm told. Since swimming was not a possibility, my two cohorts (one was a Fulbrighter from Balıkesir) climbed Şeytan Sofrası, or Satan's Table, for some incredible views of the surrounding waters.

After this we headed to Cunda aka Alibey Island, famous for its restaurants with seafood mezes (Turkish small plates you are supposed to eat while draining a bottle of rakı over the course of several hours). My cohorts and I completely forgot to take pictures of this meal because we were so hungry. We had delicious fresh raw fish, grilled octopus, perfect olive oil, a beautiful salad, and a mouthwatering melon (and other fruits) for dessert. The food in Ayvalık and environs was my favorite part of the whole weekend.

The Turkish kahvaltı, a wondrous meal on an average day, was downright swoon-worthy at our "Butik Otel", Antikhan.


The next day we headed north to Çanakkale, famous for...

being close to Troy (it is also near Gallipoli, but that did not interest us so much). That is the horse used in the movie, which was donated to the town after filming.


This is pretty much what the site of Troy looks like. In certain areas you can see Troy I-IX, and the strata are labeled as such. One follows a roped path and reads signs in Turkish, German, or English about what you are seeing- namely, that which early would-be "archeologists" didn't accidentally ruin or purposefully steal when they were excavating.

So, even though Troy was not my favorite part of an all-too-brief coastal jaunt, I still was glad to have seen it. What kind of legendary heroes actually made their lives here? We may never truly know...


Eventually, my time came to an end in Çanakkale and I embarked on a long bus ride to my current home. I hope to visit the Aegean many more times.


ADDENDUM:
They totally let you climb inside the other fake Trojan Horse on the actual site of Troy.

Turkish Enigma Remains One More Mystery*

I found this delightfully sad blurb on a tourism website today while looking for a map of Uşak online:

Uşak itself, said to be of Seljuk origin, almost certainly stands on the site of the ancient, though not very important, Pelta. The present town, dominated by a dilapidated Byzantine citadel (Eucarpia), has few relics of the past, having been largely rebuilt in the 18th century after a fire.

PELTA, eh? Sounds a lot like...PELKA! Perhaps I have a not very important Seljuk past!



*a headline from yesterday's online edition of one of the English-language Turkish newspapers, Hurriyet

Nature's Candy

Yesterday two of my coworkers (one being the other Fulbrighter, of course) went to a neighboring town in Uşak province called Ulubey in order to see the second largest canyon in the world.

It's pretty big.

We went not really knowing what to do or expect, and as we girlishly wandered around what may or may not have been a path we happened upon two gentlemen who had helped plan ULUBEY CANYONFEST 2K10! Namely, these two men had designed the hiking routes around the canyon for said festival earlier in the year. They offered to show us the best views and then got bottles of water for each of us, so we accepted. Little did we know that this would be a two-hour long hike fraught with terror! Most of the hiking felt great, but the climbing downward after we had rested on the peak in the middle of the canyon? SHEER TERROR. Sheer like the canyon's rocky sides that we could have easily slid down...to our doom! Occasionally our guides would kick loose rocks down the slopes and laugh at our fearful moans as we watched them bounce and roll away, imagining our potentially similar fate.

That is the middle "peak" which had the terrifying downward climb, as seen from about halfway along our hiking route.


That same "peak", as seen from Usak University's Ulubey campus.

Luckily because I am not at all clumsy and the very model of grace and balance, I made it back alive. (In other words, I have no idea how I made it back alive.)
BUT! this was my reward....

A pomegranate fresh from the tree! We ate them overlooking the canyon from the restaurant where we had started our hike. Then our two guides took us back to Ulubey's main street and bought us each a loaf of Ulubey pide, since apparently it is known for its delicious bread. This is what pide looks like plain, with the incredibly scrumptious Turkish cream cheese our guides recommended putting on the bread waiting nearby.

It was a lovely Sunday afternoon (Pazar öğleden sonra). We might meet our two guides next week to see other provincial wonders in other parts of Uşak province.

Gooooool!

Readers, I have an important decision to make. Given that I am thousands of miles away from my beloved Chicago Blackhawks, I have decided that, for cultural and personal reasons, I should attempt to cultivate an interest in soccer (futbol). I do not know which of the three main Turkish soccer teams to support. I feel like I need to choose my alliance early, because I will need to follow the team to some degree in order to achieve some legitimacy with actual Turkish fans, but not so much that I get involved in a brawl outside a cafe somewhere. (Not to mention the fact that now you will know the names of the three main teams to impress all of your Turkish friends.)

In any case, back in Ankara, I had decided on Beşiktaş for a number of reasons. First, the are sponsored by two companies that make up two parts of a complete breakfast: Cola Turka and Ülker (a cookie and snack company). Second, their team colors, black and white, make for a jersey or t-shirt I might actually purchase and wear. Third, one of their players reminded me of a friend from back home. These were my selling points, and I thought I was sold....until I discovered their Facebook pages.

Now, here is a strong photoshop showing for Beşiktaş. It is downright regal. I did not find a photoshopped image of an eagle ripping apart a soccer ball in its talons like a salmon, but oh, dear readers, I have seen such images on promotional items for this team and they are a delight.


However, when I got to the underdog team, Galatasaray, I was shocked to see such exquisite artwork. If that photo included a soccer ball under a gracefully extended paw, I would be wearing the horrid red and yellow McDonald's-reminiscent colors of this team all the time. This almost changed my mind.


And finally, the favorite of most Turkish soccer fans (I believe), Fenerbahçe. From my most basic research, it seems that their "mascot" is some kind of plant. Unfortunately there are no images to share of, say, a plant growing out of half of a soccer ball or perhaps a goal completely overtaken by vines or what-have-you. Instead, just this adorably sincere blue and yellow homage to the team that someone planted (ahem) in their Farmville game on Facebook. Even though my boss is a Fenerbahçe fan, and even though this kind of soccer fandom is really something I can get behind, I don't think I'll be rooting for this team.


But, I put it to you, dear readers! If you can help me make up my mind I would greatly appreciate it. I know it goes against my U of C heritage to be trying to think about sports, but this is a cultural phenomenon I should at least be more aware of, if only to give me something to talk about in EFL classes, if I am ever allowed to teach them.






UPDATE: 27/10/2010 First of all, an English-speaking woman I met this weekend informed me that since my zodiac sign is Leo (aslan in Turkish), I must support the UltrAslans. Second, I learned that Galatasaray and fans refer to themselves as "UltrAslans", which is awesome. Third, I found out that Galatasaray has a 105-year-old woman fan. I think my choice is now clear. Sorry, Beşiktaş.

Odds and Ends

This picture has my survival kit for Turkey. This is basically all I will need to live here indefinitely. It has a small hot water heater replete with spoon, my new coffee cup for Nescafe and soup, my tea thermos on a homemade coaster, my travel spoon/fork/chopsticks from Mitsuwa, and Bratz wipes for cleanliness. I guess I didn't include my Swiss Army knife in the photo, but it is also an important travel dealie. (You can imagine it in the blank space at the bottom of the photo.) I am very, very glad I have the travel cutlery and tea thermos. They are two of the most useful things in the universe. I highly recommend everyone travel with them.

Speaking of really important things, here is the kitchen. Please note that on the right there is an additional 2L hot water heater which I bought yesterday. I take hot water very seriously. There is also a giant bag of tea and a box of sugar cubes on the table which you can't really see, but they go hand in hand with my survival kit.


Here is a photo illustrating that my sheets match my computer. They also match my coffee cup and plate.


And here is my whole bedroom, which has two beds. The rules of the building include "No visitors overnight except your mother and siblings", but after we put up quite a fight they said Fulbrighters could use the extra bed for one or two nights if the need arose. Then the landlord looked at us very angrily, suggesting we should not actually take advantage of this special permission. We shall see.


The building also has roughly 1,000,000 (bir milyon) security cameras, and at night a little old woman watches them like a soap opera ("Life's Hallways" would probably be my title for it). We have to sacrifice a bit of privacy to have a beautiful apartment, I suppose.

Uşak, A History

Uşak University is being built from the ground up, literally. The building which houses the foreign language office had no railings on some staircases on Monday, and on Tuesday a man wearing a sleeveless jumpsuit was sawing metal tubes to make the railings with no protective equipment whatsoever, sending sparks flying across the hallway towards unperturbed students and teachers. The chemistry labs have sinks and gas feeds laying on the ground in boxes waiting to be installed. One of the two access roads from Izmir Road to the campus is still gravel, and is almost unnavigable. It's incredible. The guest house, however, where we stayed for the first five nights, is complete, not to mention utterly beautiful inside. My pictures don't do it justice so you'll have to take my word on that.

Campus construction.


Uşak as a town is almost equal parts rubble and new construction (inşaat), with the currently used and maintained buildings of course in the majority. According to our department head, 30 years ago (otuz yıl önce), Uşak was a "village" of about 30,000, but there has been rapid development in the past 20 years. I have no concept of how old the buildings are or what alleyways are interesting. As it is, I can just manage to find my way back to my apartment from the grocery stores on Izmir street and/or "Compulsory Street" (Ismet Pasha Caddesi).

The lands around Uşak, in addition to being home to packs of wild dogs, are dry rolling hills. Today on the bus ride to campus we saw a herd of sheep on the side of one of the hills. It is very scenic (as one of the men who met us on Saturday said, "If you like The Nature, you will like living Uşak"), but I really miss being anchored (pun intended) by some kind of large body of water.