Finding Christmas -- Istanbul, Turkey

I haven't written for a few days, and my mind feels rusty. Also, my fingers are desperately confused, as transitioning between typing on a Turkish keyboard and an English keyboard leaves my middle finger scratching its head when it comes to finding the proper "I" and punctuation marks are now astonishingly irksome.

":;.,? are all in different places and require different shift/option keys to access them. 

It's Christmas Eve. I'm nearly alone in the cold Pucca café, the only people in the nargile bar being the bearded waiter who made my expensive cup of coffee and a chap in a leather jacket lazily reading the newspaper with him. Instead of Christmas carols, I hear slow, melancholy Turkish music reverberating through the loudspeakers.

I'm discovering that the majority of Turkish music is the slow, melancholy type. Which certainly has its place -- just not right now. This is the season for Silent Night, We Three Kings and Away in the Manger.

I put in my earbuds and open my iTunes account.

Christmas music... what have I got? Errmm.... Bublé. Christmas (please come home). Okay. 

The snow's coming down
I'm watching it fall
Watching the people around
Baby please come home

The church bells in town
They're ringing a song
What a happy sound
Baby please come home

They're singing deck the halls
But it's not like Christmas at all
I remember when you were here
All the fun we had last year

Pretty lights on the tree
I'm watching them shine
You should be here with me
Baby please come home
Baby please come home

They're singing deck the halls
But it's not like Christmas at all
I remember when you were here
All the fun we had last year

If there was a way
I'd hold back these tears
But it's Christmas day
Baby please come home
Baby please come home
Baby please come home

Oof. I'm a bit teary-eyed now. I never thought I'd be so lonesome on a Christmas eve. It seems absurd that a holiday could have such a profound effect on me. I've been unduly irritable and reclusive the last few days, as every moment is underlined with -- 

I bet my family's house smells like pine and that they had to buy all new lights again. We never could keep our lights working for more than a year or two. Blasted things. I wonder if Jason's making mulled wine this year... I miss all of Janet's quirky, wonderful decorations. Ha...oh man, that was the weirdest tree. Skulls? That bizarre, bulky, naked fertility goddess? 

I haven't been this lonely since I left George's home in Knockara last June. I attribute my staggering feelings of solitude to several factors. 

A) The holiday season. 

B) The fact that I've been traveling in non-English speaking countries for nearly four months now. After a while, not understanding the background chatter can be tremendously isolating.

C) The massive cultural difference of Istanbul. 

This loneliness is manifesting itself in several ways. As mentioned earlier, I'm darn cranky. I'm also spending a lot of time planning and rearranging and buying plane tickets. Something about buying plane tickets always soothes my soul. 

Friday night was miserable. Seher, Ayse, Öykü and I loaded into the car around two o'clock and drove off to visit a friend of Seher's. I assumed it would be an afternoon of chit-chat and that we'd be home by six or seven. However, my approximation was terribly inaccurate, and the call turned into a grand affair that lasted until nearly ten o'clock (the majority was in Turkish and punctuated by giggling/screaming babies). This would have been fine, had I not been suffering from a raging headache which was exacerbated into something nearly unendurable by the screaming babies. Headache turned to nausea as the screams settled in my stomach. 

I tried to smile and look interested (even though I couldn't understand a word of what was being said). The people were so pleasant and had prepared such a gorgeous dinner that I didn't want to be rude and ask to leave early, but all really I wanted was to curl up on the floor next to the toilet and take comfort in the cold porcelain. 

When we finally left, I collapsed into the seat of the car and tried to relax. However, the drive back was dangerous and stressful, jerky and chaotic; by the time we reached the apartment, my insides were in utter turmoil. 

I was up vomiting all night. 

When I awoke the next morning, the nausea was gone, but I was weak, exhausted and dizzy. 

Perfect day for an amusement park. 

"You don't have to go," Seher looked concerned. 

"But it's important," I stubbornly donned my flimsy red jacket. 

"So is your health," she insisted. 

"I'll be okay. I'll just sleep really well tonight." 

"If you get to the station and feel sick, come home. We have time to cancel."

"I will. Thanks." 

"Enjoy your day. See you tonight," Seher called out as I stepped out the door to lace up my formidable boots. 

It was my first real meeting with Dilara and I was reluctant to cancel -- but every part of me just wanted to curl up in bed with my kindle and drink tea all day. Instead, I walked to the metrobus, my "favorites" playlist blaring away in my ears. 

I just can't listen to the sounds of Istanbul right now. I'm so tired of honking and screeching and lurching and barking.

After an hour and a half on the crowded bus, I arrived at our arranged meeting place. I shoved my hands in my pockets, shifted my weight from foot to foot, and prayed that they'd meet me sooner rather than later. 

They didn't. They arrived very late indeed. Dilara's mother was trapped in traffic and didn't pull up to the stop until 13:45. I had been waiting since 12:45. My phone was out of credit and Dilara's mother didn't have my number to let me know she would be late, so I just stood like a fool on the side of the road, frantically scanning each car to see if I recognized Dilara's friendly face.

We had a grand time cavorting in bumper cars, riding roller coasters and drinking tea with her grandmother and great-aunt. 

She will teach me how to make cheesecake next week. I am very much looking forward to this activity.

I met with the airport guys on Sunday night. They smoked and drank çay. I shivered and drank apple tea and salep. We didn't discuss religion as much this time, but we had a lively conversation wherein I explained idioms such as, "frog in your throat", "dead as a doornail", and "butterflies in my stomach".

Umit arranged for me to meet with five 10th graders yesterday, and goodness, they were the sweetest group of kids.

They took me on an adventure to find Christmas in Istanbul!

First ice cream in Istanbul!

The favorite American fast food of these kids:

Starbucks
McDonald's
Pizza Hut

Favorite Turkish food:

Kebap
Baklava
Sekerpare
Lukma
Kadayif

Finding Christmas

More Christmas

I didn't walk through the Beylikduzu apartment door until 18:30. The day had been extraordinary fun, but having to carry a conversation for 6 hours had left me knackered. So I broke out my watercolors and tackled a new painting. 

Watercolor for Louise -- the mother of my English family

Watercolor for Miguel. We spent an afternoon together in Buckinghamshire, watching ducks, discussing film/plays and trying to remember quotes.

Here's a great recipe from Turkey (can be made with rice instead of bulgur, if you're celiac): Mercimek Koftesi