A Photo-Walk to the Lake

I saw a different side of my neighborhood the other day. I had often driven by the lake when riding in the car with other people, but I never realized just how close it was to my house. I started walking towards it one day, and I got there in about 15 min. On the way, I walked through an area that looked like I had left the city. From my limited experiences here, I felt like I had left the country, as well.
There were lots of animals in the neighborhood, especially chickens wandering around. This woman appeared to be feeding the family goat, with her son to keep her company.The lakeside is a popular center of recreation. One man was selling fresh nuts from a cart to a girl while 2 others (friends or family members?) had a picnic in the median. There were also several people enjoying a stroll along the lake.
Finally I reached what I had been walking for, an unspoiled view of the lake with the hills behind it.
As I walked along the lake, there was a lady picking raspberries. Mmmm...summer.... I could only imagine what kind of delicious foods she might make for her family with those raspberries. From her appearance, she looked like she lived in the neighborhood that I had just come through.
The lake is also an important source of food for some of the poor people that live by it. There was a man teaching his son to fish, and a few fishing boats.

Strangely enough, I also passed this house on my way home.
This place is always full of surprises. All I have to do is walk out the door, look, and listen.

Glitter and gold and getting home again

Just when you think you have nothing to blog about, you get invited to a wedding! My roommate's friend's sister got married last night, and I got invited to go along as the roommate. This was my first experience attending a Turkish wedding, and it seemed to live up to all the stories I had heard. In case you're wondering why I went to a wedding on a Wednesday, Ramadan started today, and people don't have weddings during Ramadan. So all the brides-to-be rush to get in a wedding date before they have to wait another month.

To be more accurate, I didn't see the actual wedding ceremony. The actual wedding is a civil ceremony at a government building. Everyone attends the reception, which has its own set of customs. My roommate and I got all dressed up and rode the bus to a wedding hall downtown. The wedding started at 8, and we got there a little late. In typical Turkish fashion, people were strolling in until 8:45 or so. Our friend greeted us, dressed like it was prom as is appropriate for the immediate family of the bride. She was a great hostess and looked after us all night.

At around 9, the bride and groom entered with great fanfare. About a dozen people stood on either side w/ sparklers and threw confetti. Our friend included us in this part, of course :)

After that, the bride and groom had a requisite slow dance. Then other couples joined the floor for slow dancing. After that, the music picked up and the party really started. The dancing resembles vaguely what you see at parties and clubs in America, except with that belly-dancing flair. And of course, no boys and girls dancing together for this one. The bride and groom danced in the middle, with a crowd around them clapping. Ladies from the crowd would move into the center, dance with the bride, get their picture taken, and then move out. Of course, my friend made me get in the middle. I enjoyed it, and hoped I wasn't embarrassing myself.

After a while, they cleared the floor, brought out the cake, and let the bride and groom feed each other. They cleared out the cake, and the couple did some belly-dancing in the middle, while people threw money on them.

The children cleared out the money, and the floor was full of dancing again. Finally, at 9:45, our roommate and I asked special permission to give our wedding gift early so we go home before it was too late. Instead of the wedding gifts you give in America, people here give gold and pin it on red ribbons on the bride and groom. My roommate and I bought a gold coin together and pinned it on the bride.

When we went to leave, our friend escorted us to the bus stop to wait for the bus with us. There was some disagreement on where we should catch our bus, and then our bus drove by without stopping! Our friend flagged down another bus, talked to the bus driver, told him to take us to a park where we could catch our bus home. The bus driver didn't ask for our money. We rode the bus for a while until we came to the bus station, the end of the line. The remaining passengers got off, so we started to. My roommate asked the bus driver about our bus, and he said it wasn't here. He said he was taking us to the park. She said "but we're lost." And he said "don't be lost, go sit down." Sure enough, they took us to the park, and the bus driver waited for us until we caught our bus home. God provides. We got home at 11, tired and relieved, but glad to share that experience with our friend, even if getting around isn't always simple.

The Mountaintop

Last week I went on another paid vacation! Of course, it seems ridiculous how many I've been on since I've been here, but I just picked a good year to come. From what I've heard, there won't be any more meetings like that for a while. This meeting took place at a nice hotel in the mountains outside of Istanbul. They scheduled in lots of free time for us to connect with other Americans, enjoy the scenery, and fully escape the stress of cross-cultural living. The best part was just getting to really talk to each other about how we cope with living overseas. In addition, there were some great speakers that talked about some of those same challenges.
Sometimes it takes standing on a mountaintop to get God's perspective on it all.Also, it was nice to get out of the city. For a nature-lover like me, it was like a breath of fresh-air to see mountains and trees. It was also a breath of fresh air to be in 70-degree weather instead of 100-degree weather!
P.S. Please note that Turkey is not a desert, contrary to popular belief (a belief I once held).

A Passing

My neighbor died on Sunday. At least, that's the best conclusion I came to based on observation. No one told me, and I didn't know how to ask for more information in an appropriate way. But all of a sudden, the door down the hall was left continuously open and people, mostly men, started coming and going. And I knew that there is a period of visitation here after someone dies.

Those neighbors had always been a bit of a mystery to us. We knew they were an older couple, and we saw their grown children occasionally. When they sat on their balcony, they were a few feet from my bedroom window. We had brought them food a couple of times, as we did with other neighbors, and the grown daughter always answered the door and returned our plate promptly. We were never invited inside. My roommate thought she heard once that the wife was ill. We ran into the husband periodically on the elevator. He was always nice, courteous, and as friendly as is appropriate between an older man and a young woman. Which meant our conversations were brief. But even though he could easily tell I didn't understand Turkish well, he still tried. Then I saw the couple together getting off the elevator once. The wife was taking very small steps, and her grown son held one arm to help her. I smiled at her, and she smiled back and said "hello, dear."

So when the door was left open, I drew conclusions. I called my teacher and asked what I should say and do to pay my respects. In some ways, the customs here may be similar to traditional American customs. Then again, I've never really been part of traditional American customs either. All the relatives I've known well have been cremated, at least since I've been old enough to remember. Maybe it's the German blood, or maybe it's my faulty memory, but it seemed like we had a memorial service, and then we moved on. Here, they have a seven-day period of visitation. The family leaves their door open, and friends, family, and neighbors come and go for a week. You bring food, so the family doesn't have to cook. And for words of comfort, you say "health to your head."

So last night I went to the bakery, bought a bag of my favorite pastries, put them on a nice plate, and went to the neighbors. Unfortunately, my roommate was leaving town shortly after we heard the news. Out of the two of us, she's more compassionate, socially sensitive, and expressive. She wanted to pay her respects. But instead I was left to represent. A middle-aged lady came to the door. I wished her "health to your head", and she cleaned my plate off in the kitchen and brought it back to me. She inquired, and I said I lived down the hall. I wished her a good evening, and that was that. This morning, a young man to the door. He came from the neighbors, and was carrying a tray of small plates of food. Apparently they, too, bring food to all the neighbors while in mourning. Always hospitable. I don't know if this specific food was part of the tradition, but it's some sort of grain, perhaps a fine bulgar, soaked in sugar syrup. A simple sweet snack. It's a little strange to American tastes, but I like it alright. And so I ate it in memory of her, the smiling old lady down the hall whose name I never knew, but whose mourning I am a part of because I am their neighbor.