The Gallivanting Grasshopper: Hibernation -- Istanbul, Turkey

Inspiration is hard. Motivating myself is harder. Concentrating on my work is the hardest.

How's that for a fine example of comparatives and superlatives?

Winter is a difficult time of year for me. I'm beginning to believe that I'm actually a chubby marmot (or some other cuddly, nonthreatening, hibernating animal) trapped inside a human body. Cold, dreary weather just makes me shut down. My body feels like a car on a freezing morning. I have to scrape thick ice off the windshield and let the engine warm up for fifteen minutes before I can even think about going anywhere.

I wake up to Umit's soft alarm, rub my eyes, look at the schedule I ambitiously made for myself the night before --

6:00 -- research thai massage
7:00 -- breakfast
8:00 -- shower
9:00 -- walk to the café to steal good internet
12:00 --

-- and I realize that the only thing I really want is to drink a cup of hot chocolate and go back to bed. But my overdeveloped guilt complex pierces my brain fog with its reproachful, relucent rays of, you're wasting your life, Bourget -- you know that, right? What are you going to learn by lounging around in bed all day? You're going to melt into your mattress like a stick of butter on hot concrete. You'll forget all your French. You'll lose your ability to do those yoga arm balances you love so much. You'll end up stuck in Grand Junction with nothing but -- "

"FINE!" I whisper shout, trying to drown out the sounds of condemnation.

"Aimee?"

"WHAT?" the whisper shout never works.

You're still in bed.

I prop myself up against the wall of the spare room and make a valiant effort to do my work.

The Ethics of Thai Massage... refrain from sexual activity that is harmful to self or others... hmmm... I wonder if I can think of something to blog about today... refrain from dishonesty in speech and action... I hope if there's sausage left for breakfast. I love sausage for breakfast. Oh! I hope one of those hostels in Albania got back to me about this summer. I'm nervous about the bus system there... all the websites say it's super sketchy and that the schedule is changed all the time. Willy-nilly. Worse than Italian Rail. Gah! Where was I? Oh, yeah. Refrain from intoxication with drugs and alcohol.

Winter. How greatly I loathe you. The season of brain fog, aching joints and unreasonable listlessness. Sitting in the café with my browser open to blogger.com and trying to be productive is unbelievably challenging for me. My mind wanders from my unfortunate experience in Ireland with George, to the next play I want to write, to the hilarious nights spent drinking with Billie and Maud, to relationships that are falling apart (either because I've lost touch or have somehow demolished them with my unrivaled intensity), to rock climbing with Patrick in France, to where the hell I'm going to live come June.

All I want is to do some mindless research on volunteer opportunities in the Balkans or on bus ticket prices from Solin to Herceg Novi. Research is an escape for me the way television is an escape for Turkish people.

Writing (plays and blogs) grounds me in my mind the way yoga grounds me in my body.

But it's winter, and I want to escape -- to freeze -- until spring. I'd pop up at the end of February like the crocuses in Judy's garden, cheerful and welcoming and bright. I'd like to curl up on my mattress, pull the duvet so it rests right under my nose, fall into a deep, dreamless sleep and wake up in Devon.

Cathy comes to visit in 8 days. Even if my brain were functioning at 100%, I wouldn't be able to communicate just how very excited I am. We're going to spend a day on a food tour and a day traveling to the Princes Islands. It'll be amazing to reconnect and to speak English with a native speaker for ten days.

I met with a couchsurfer on Monday night. He played the guitar for me. He sang French, English and Turkish songs for me. I joined when I could (which wasn't often) and learned a few chords on one of his many guitars. We ate kebap, chocolate and drank sangria and tea. We watched The Wolf on Wall Street.

When couchsurfing is good, it's really good. Just like Lorenzo was my music experience in Paris (taking me to an empty concert hall in the middle of the night and playing his own piano compositions for me), Dogukan was my music experience in Istanbul.

A few pictures from my wanderings.