Maybe I will just stick to Starbucks. They may be an evil corporate monster and fill their drinks with delicious chemicals, but at least they don't splash mop water on my boots and they play decent music.
I leaned my elbows on the topsy-turvy table and wished I could curl my legs up underneath me. I'm a sucker for the fetal position and return to it whenever feeling threatened/lonely/frustrated. But the chair was prohibitively small and the ultimate insult to a Turkish person is to put your dirty shoes on anything other than the floor.
*sigh*
Today was tiring. Today was frustrating. Today was awkward and uncomfortable and unreasonably long. Useless days always feel unreasonably long.
Umit had arranged for me to meet with another one of his students (Dilara is off skiing today), so I packed my bag and boarded the tram at noon. The meeting time was scheduled for one o'clock and the meeting place was set for the bus stop in front of the metro station.
12:45, I glanced at my phone as I exited and scurried towards the escalator. Perfect. I can be a little early so he'll spot me instead of me trying to spot him.
There must have been some sort of miscommunication (as is often the case with fifteen-year-olds). 25 minutes later, I was still standing awkwardly with my backpack, shifting my weight from foot to foot, and very much not spotted.
Is he here? I texted Ümit.
Yes, but he could not find you. He is waiting in front of the metro.
Of course, I walked back to the metro.
"Hi, how are you?" I greeted the handsome, gangly boy standing near a cart laden with mussels and lemons. He looked like he was looking for someone, so I egocentrically assumed he was looking for me.
"Fine, and you?" he supplied the perfunctory response and shook my hand.
"My name is Aimee," I introduced myself. "What is your name?"
"My name. Matt."
"Where do you live?" I asked as we started walking.
He looked confused.
"Where do you live?"
"Ne?" (what)
"Do you understand?"
"Don't understand."
"Where -- "
"Where," he repeated, nodding.
"Where. Do. You. Live?"
"Live?"
"Where is your home?"
"Yes."
This is going to be exhausting. I hope it's a short lesson. A quick lunch where I can talk about food and utensils and then take the tram back to Topkapi.
He stopped in front of a parked, running car.
"Here," he opened the car door closest to the sidewalk. "Come."
I sat in the back with Matt.
"This my mother -- "
"This is my mother."
"This is my sister -- "
"Good!"
"What grade are you in?"
"Grade?"
"In school. Are you in 9th grade? 10th grade? 11th grade?"
"Don't understand."
"I don't understand."
"I don't understand."
"Good!" I practically bellowed my congratulations. Take the little victories, Bourget. Perhaps the only thing that he'll learn today is to say "I don't understand" instead of "don't understand". "Do you like football?" I figured football was always a safe topic.
"Yes."
"Do you play football?"
"Yes. Play."
"When do you play football?"
"Now."
"Now?" I was confused. We're studying English now...maybe he means that he's currently on a team. "Where are we going?" I asked as the narrow, windy roads started working their dark magic on my stomach and I felt nausea rising in my throat.
"Play football."
"Now?"
"Yes."
That's weird. Never before have I been picked up for a lesson and then gone to play football.
His mother drove into the parking lot of the covered football field. We sat down with the other families and coaches and waited.
And waited.
And waited.
I tried to engage the mother and daughter in conversation, but it was unbearably stilted and exasperating.
It's not worth having native speakers if the student doesn't have a basic working knowledge of the language. This has got to be just as frustrating for her as it is for me. It's like constant defeat -- this inability to get anything across to each other. How can I explain the word "now"? No dictionary. Nothing.
"Now... " I thought out loud. "Now I am standing," I stood up. "Now I am sitting," I plopped back down. "Now I am standing. Now I am sitting. Now. Now you are reading. It is not tomorrow. It is not yesterday. It is now."
"Not?"
"Do you understand the word "not"?
"Word?"
"Word..."
"Don't understand."
I gave up. This is useless. Oh well. I'm glad I brought my kindle. It feels rude to read, but it feels even more impolite to keep pushing English at a poor woman who is clearly not ready for it.
So I felt awkward reading instead of feeling awkward conversing. Ten minutes. Thirty minutes. An hour. Two hours.
Two and a half hours later, Matt's practice finished. I kept thinking, why am I here? Why are they wasting my time like this?
Stop overreacting, Bourget. It was probably an accident. Maybe they thought they could get out of the practice. Maybe they didn't realize it would take so long. Maybe...
It was nearly four o'clock and I was famished and feeling unpleasantly light-headed. I hadn't eaten any breakfast that morning because most Turkish families invite me for lunch when I arrive, so I'd wanted to make sure I had some sort of appetite. By the time my iskender kebap arrived, I was completely ravenous and ate the kebap with the same voracity with which I consumed Cathy's precooked bacon. But I was a responsible teacher and kept pointing out little things to Matt while stuffing my face full of meat, potatoes and tomatoes.
"What is this in Turkish?" I pointed to a toothpick.
"Kürdan."
"In English, it is a "toothpick". What is this in Turkish?"
I kept going until I'd asked about everything on the table, on the menu and on our persons. When we finally finished our meal, we hurried off to Matt's apartment.
It's five thirty... how long do they expect me to stay? I wondered. Matt seems exhausted. I'm exhausted. This isn't helping anyone.
So I complimented Matt's mother on her immaculate (as usual) apartment and then asked if she could return me to the metro. Perhaps it's rude to eat and run, but it would be more impolite to stay and make things uncomfortable, once again, I used the lesser-of-two -evils argument to assuage my ticklish conscience.
I made it back to Cesim's flat by 18:30. Yes... I can drink some tea... relax... do some restorative yoga. Feel better. I inserted my key into the downstairs door. It didn't fit. "Shit," I said aloud as I realized that I was still stuck with Ümit's set that didn't include the rather vital key that unlocked the complex door. Well... what now? I looked around the dark alley. I don't want to wait here. My phone is dead (again... damn battery)... I guess I'll just walk to the Coffee Point, buy a drink and write Cesim. Hope he's coming home soon.
So that's where I am now. My coffee is finished. Cesim should be home shortly. I'll pack my bag, use the sketchy toilet (the servers are so busy mopping in the morning that they forget to refill the toilet paper) and then head back down.
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| the painting I did for Cathy when I finally relaxed into Cesim's |
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