Valuable -- Istanbul, Turkey

I’m starting this post from the rooftop breakfast room of the Spectra Hotel. I would take a picture to share the glorious sunrise and the glistening Blue Mosque, but the camera for which I’ve been waiting for months is decidedly not working. It was a bitter disappointment to insert the fully charged battery this morning and realize that my NikonD60 (complete with a Sigma zoom lens I’d just purchased) was still not turning on.

Maybe it’s a problem with the battery, Bourget. Stay positive. You have owned it for a few years now... do re-chargeable lithium batteries wear out?

Sometimes I feel like a spiritual rock-star due to my general lack of attachment to material objects. Like I could lose anything and not be affected.

Pants? Pshaw. Doesn’t matter. Pants are overrated. Tripod? Too bad, but less to carry.

And then things like this happen and I come to a greater understanding of the objects that have real value in my life.

My laptop.

My kindle.

My camera.

My laptop provides stability in a life of instability. I can connect with friends and family via facebook, skype, and email. I can share my experiences on my blog so that it feels like I’m not living alone. So that my life doesn’t feel like an isolated event and all my experiences don’t stay locked into the place and time and people with whom I’ve adventured.

I don’t think I keep this blog with the unadulterated purposes of becoming a better writer, making the world a friendlier and more accessible place, documenting the fun or somehow finding a way to support my travels.

I keep this blog because every time someone clicks on a link and reads one of my stories, I feel less lonely. I feel like people are participating in my life. The 150 page views on Saturday gave me a sense of camaraderie. When I go to visit my friends in Colorado, I can say, “yeah, this is the bracelet that Dilara gave me for Christmas,” and they can say, “wow, it’s even prettier than I thought it would be.” I can say, "I got to hang out with alpacas for a few weeks in Germany. Did you know that alpacas -- "

And they can interrupt me with an impatient interjection of, "Yes. We read your blog. Alpacas spit and kick and are hilarious but moody animals." 

Then I would give them a hug and ask about their day. Not because they read my blog and that makes me feel special, but because they read my blog and that makes me feel connected.

Through gallivantinggrasshopper, they were there with me. Through this blog, I was not alone.

 People often ask me if I’m lonely, and I usually can quite honestly answer that no, I’m not lonely. I’m only lonely when it’s Christmas or when I don’t have good internet. I think that this is one of the major reasons I was unbearably unhappy at George’s and was so homesick during Christmas. Internet gives me a sense of community – of continuation ­– that I haven’t yet learned to function without.

My kindle is an endless source of inspiration. It holds over seven hundred books and is one of my most valuable possessions. If I’m feeling overwhelmed, I can escape into the playful world of Roald Dahl. If I’m feeling bored, I can escape into the complicated, fantastic world of James Martin. If I’m feeling like I need to experience some sophisticated English, I can escape into the world of Oscar Wilde, Jane Austen or Shakespeare. If I'm feeling like every drop of romance has been leeched from my heart and am tired of feeling so damn cynical, I can read one of the many romance novels bequeathed to me by the Kellehers.

And if I just want a laugh, Mark Twain is always waiting for me. 

My camera provides an outlet for me to share my experiences in a way my fingers just can't. It makes my blog accessible for those I meet who have difficulties understanding English and it helps keep perfect moments and picturesque places fresh.  

I was so excited about this camera. What if I can't get it to work? Well... then I suppose I can't get it to work. That's all there is. Something else will happen. Something always does. 

Yesterday was my last excursion with the students at Umit's highschool. I think I've ventured about Istanbul with every highschool student studying English from the school near Çapa. I can't pick and choose favorites because every experience has been so different, but this group of kids was truly special and made me feel like I was the most exciting person since... well... since whoever happened to invent the kebap. 

I'd been looking forward to this outing even more than usual, as one of the students had facebooked me a few days before our scheduled rendezvous with this touching little note: 

Hello Aimee I am Naz. We will go to the trip with you wednesday or thursday, but we can not decide where to go, we heard that you've seen every places in istanbul, we have been thinking for weeks to find a place to take you but we still can't decide. We do not want to make you bored we think you would not like to go places that you've been before, so we wanted to ask you. Where would you like to go, is there any special places that you'd like to see again? Please tell us, we are really nervous we are afraid that we won't be able to make you happy, so we want some place names, if you don't have any special one, tell us what kind of places would you like to go? (like museum, park etc.) hope i am not disturbing you, thank you. The reason i say this to you is we want to get ready for that day, we are going to learn some information about the places we will go.

I smiled and typed a simple message back, 

Hi Naz! Thanks for the sweet and thoughtful message. I am excited to meet you.

I love seeing nature. I love traveling on boats. I love learning about the culture and history of Istanbul. I also really like meeting families! You should bring pictures of your family to show me. And I really like learning about Turkish music.
Don't be afraid that I will be bored! The thing I love the most is meeting the students. So as long as you will all be there, I will be very happy!

 What a nice thing to do, I closed facebook and switched to reading my book on thai massage. Now, how exactly do I palm massage up the legs without putting too much pressure on my wrists?

The next morning, my facebook had a message that read -- 

Good morning Firstly, we like to thank you so much for responding our message and we can not wait to meet you too, we are very excited we don't want to fail it, thanks for saying what you like, now we know where to take you. Take care of yourself Aimee, we love you. see you wednesday or thursday, be prepared to have fun with us..

And I had so much fun with them. 

Naz = great. I can remember her name because I've seen it enough on facebook and my brain recognizes "Naz" as a name. 

Honde = Awesome. Like the car. But different.

Enes  = Sounds like that town in Ireland where Maria sold patés at the market. 

Arzu = umm... we are going to the zoo. Arezoo. Yes. Are going zoo. Arezoo. 

Batuhan = Batu -- what? I just... can't. Brain malfunction. Can't. Take. More. Strange sounding -- 

"Would you mind being batman? Just for today? I would love it if you'd let me call you batman," I asked pathetically. 

The weather was cold and glum, but I was wearing my waterproof boots and a warm down jacket, so felt unfazed and somewhat triumphant. 

I can conquer everything with the right footwear. 

The poor kids couldn't stop apologizing, though. 

"We are so sorry," their faces crinkled in concern. "It is so bad today. We wanted to make a picnic in the park, but now..." 

"Don't worry!" I tried to reassure the downcast students. "I'm just happy to be here. Really." 

"But we wanted today be good," they continued to look disappointed and anxious. "We... are... so excited for meeting you." 

The teenagers led me to see a park near Ortakoy and we snapped silly pictures with a floral bride, had a quick yoga lesson in the grass near one of the many picnic tables and I spent far too long waxing on and on about how refreshing it felt to be away from traffic. 

Grow-up already. There are worse things in life than bad drivers. As your dear mother would say, "stop your bellyaching."  

For these five students, there were few worse things in life than potentially disappointing their new American friend. A couple of the plans had to be thought through differently and a few were scrapped altogether, but the excursion was still pure pleasure because of the company. 

 

After we'd brushed the yoga off our pants (tree pose does tend to leave a trail of dirt on the inner thigh of the standing leg), we piled into a bus for Taksim. I ate my first Adana Kebap and it was by far the spiciest kebap that's managed to find its way onto my plate thus far. 

I am going to miss Turkish food. Bacon or no bacon, I shall mourn the loss of these simple but intense flavors. Very deeply. 

"Something we might say after eating a meal this good is, "I've died and gone to heaven." It means that what's happening is too amazing for planet earth -- so you must be in heaven. I've died and gone to heaven." 

 After heavenly Adana Kebap, we lumbered down the stairs (kebap sits heavily in the stomach) and continued our jaunt down Isticlal. 

"Are you bored?" queried one of the kids. 

seagull, 

beady eyes, flat, spread feet,grey feathers ruffling in the wind, splotch of red on his yellow ochre beak. head and body merging into one as he compacts himself for warmth. legs impossibly skinny to be supporting all that weight. Looks like old man with beer belly and ruffled jacket.

"Of course not! Are you having a good time?" I turned the question around. 

"Yes! It is the best day for me." 

"Me too," another student chimed in. 

"Me three," I tossed in the cheesy joke without really thinking about it. 

Time slowed down and then stopped entirely. The students looked at me in wonder as they realized that I had magically changed "too" into "two". 

"It's something children do it America," I floundered in my explanation of this weird little habit. "Because the too that means "also" sounds the same as the two that comes before three, they say, "me three, me four, me five -- " It's a funny game for kids." 

"Oh!" their faces lit up and they giggled. Then we recorded many vine videos. 

My word of the day? 

"Eridim." 

This is what you say when you see a very attractive fellow or eat something that blows your mind. 

I did not say "this blows my mind," however. I did not feel capable of explaining it.

We ate roasted chestnuts and I taught them how to play a couple of card games at Starbucks. After five o'clock rolled around, I told them I should probably be getting home. 

"My friend comes today! I want to take a nap and have dinner before we meet." 

After gathering my things and bidding Umit's family an awkward goodbye (coming and going in the city center flat is always a bumbling affair. I can't explain where I'm going, what I'll be doing or when/if I'll be back. So I simply smile and wave and hope that my smile covers the multitude of inconveniences I impose upon the forbearing family) and set off for the tram. As I waited for the t1 line to pull into the Yenisbosna stop, I noticed a long-haired fellow standing next to me sporting a nice pair of Salomon shoes. In Turkey, they have a saying that "your friend stares at your head, whereas your enemy  at your foot." According to Umit, this means that your enemy judges your appearance and your friend judges your character. 

But there's so much you can learn about someone from their shoes. What kind of activities they like. Where they've been. Maybe where they hope to go. In a city like Istanbul where runners are as rare as good drivers and pork products, a pair of decent Salomon running shoes really stands out. 

I wonder if he's Turkish. 

He managed to catch my eye a few times during the short ride to the Blue Mosque and I allowed a half-hearted smile. Even Salomon shoes do not make me forget how many crude, assuming and pushy men I've met in Istanbul thus far. 

He followed as I disembarked the T1 at the Blue Mosque stop. 

Agh. I hope this isn't just another --

 "Are you sad?"

"No, just tired," tired of how Turkish men treat foreign women in the touristic areas. 

 But it wasn't "just another". Once I got over my hangups, we were able to have a pleasant conversation that was respectful, interesting and left me feeling hopeful about the remainder of my stay in Istanbul. 

"I've got to run," I regretfully concluded the conversation. "It's nearly nine thirty and my friend will be waiting for me." 

Wow... that was really nice. I could have happily carried on conversing with Mr. Salomon for longer. Maybe we'll meet up later, I fingered his business card in my pocket. 

Two minutes later, I caught a glimpse of Cathy through the window of the Spectra hotel. Two minutes and half a second later, I was giving her a rib crushing hug in the downstairs restaurant of the hotel. 

"Ahh!!! You're here! I'm so happy to see you!" I squealed with all the excitement of a lonesome kid coming home after a summer spent at camp. 

I put my bags upstairs and suggested that Cathy and I head down to Eminonu to see the lights and have a drink on the bridge. So we caught the T1 line (sans Salomon shoes) and stepped off at the port. The air was fresh and warm for this time of year, and the city lights reflected beautifully on the rippling water. I introduced her my friend to sahlep in a nargile bar under the bridge and we spent about an hour catching up on the last eight months. 

"How's Janet? How's Jessie? Has anything changed in Grand Junction? How's your garden? Did you see my mom?"

It felt so good to be able to ask questions about home. 

My mother had prepared a package from home with a new set of wooden earrings, yoga pants, my acro yoga training book and cds, a travel yoga mat and my Nikon D60 camera with new sigma zoom lens. She'd also sent me the video my sisters had made me for Christmas -- giving some great reasons as to why they love me. 

Some of the reasons were that my coughs and hiccups are violent and explosive. They demonstrated. Accurately. 

That's what I miss, my eyes burned. Being around people who know that I used to shake the house when I sneezed and sounded like a dying pterodactyl when I hiccuped. 

"And here's your bacon," Cathy mentioned in passing. 

"WHAAAAA? You didn't... You did? You brought me bacon????" 

"Well, it's pre-cooked -- 

"It's bacon. I haven't eaten bacon in over two months. I'm sure it'll be fatty and greasy and piggy and wonderful." 

Right now, I'm thankful. I'm thankful for my family sending me my things. I'm thankful for being in such a historic, exciting city.

I'm thankful that Cathy is here with me in this historic, exciting city.