You know what sucks?

You know what sucks? Getting on a two hour flight after only having slept 2 hours the night before and discovering that your seat has no recline function. You know what sucks even more? When the person in front of you does have a recline function and uses it ambitiously. Naturally your reaction is to search harder as it couldn’t possibly be the case that theirs reclines and yours doesn’t. You know what sucks? Discovering that you were right the first time and after half an hour of searching, you don’t in fact have a recline function. You know what else sucks? Having a baby scream in pain during the entire flight because their ears won’t pop. You know what sucks even more? Having three of them. And finally, do you what makes you just giggle? Asking the stewardess if someone is sitting in the empty seats accross the aisle when she responds, “No, but there will be.” What the hell are we gonna do? Pick someone up on the way?

Weekly Shopping List

1 lb spinach

1/2 lb purple basil

1 lb cucumbers

1 lb carrots

1/2 lb sweet red peppers

2 large eggplants

1 lb bananas

1 lb appricots 

2 lbs strawberries

1 lb dried figs

1 lb spiced corn nuts

1 lb salted peanuts

3 heads of fresh garlic

200 gr crushed red pepper

200 gr yellow curry powder

50 gr tumeric 

200 gr ground flax seed

1 lb black olives

1 lb goat cheese

6 free range eggs

Total: $35



Beşiktaş Market. Istanbul, Turkey

Attachments>Choose File>Choose>Attach

Open: ‘School Contact Master List’

Open: School's website

Review information

Open: Email

Click: ‘New Message’

Open: ‘Master Greeting’

Copy: ‘Master Greeting’

Back to E-mail

Paste: ‘Master Greeting’ 

Add School Name 

Subject: ‘Wynter Miller-Teacher Application Materials’

Open: ‘Master Cover Letter’

Add school name

Change specific data according to school

File>Print>Save as PDF

Change title to ‘Wynter Miller Cover Letter- [insert school name]’

Back to e-mail

Click: Attachments icon

Choose File > ‘Wynter Miller Cover Letter- [insert school name]’ > Choose > Attach

Choose File >  ‘Wynter Miller CV’ > Choose > Attach

Choose file > [insert whatever supplementary material they ask for] > Choose > Attach

Done

Double check

Insert school email address

Send

Back to ‘School Contact Master List’

Copy [insert school name] contact information

Delete [insert school name] contact information

Open: ‘Applications Submitted Master List’

Paste [insert school name] contact information to ‘Applications Submitted Master List’

Repeat 60 times

........For those of you who are wondering what I’ve been up to. Attach doesn’t even look like a word anymore.

Cold Nights without Lights

Akin’s mother has been visiting us in Istanbul for the last week. Having her here has been absolutely wonderful. She has helped us to get the flat into a civilized order, which has taken a load off of both Akin’s and my shoulders. We did not have time to do much in the flat before leaving for Mersin last week. When we did have time in the evenings we tried desperately to entertain ourselves away from the apartment. This was not because we hate house work- though naturally neither of us is particularly fond of it- but because it was freezing. The weather, which had been quite nice leading up to our move, suddenly took a turn for the worse during moving week. This unfortunate condition was further exemplified by the fact that we had not yet been able to surmount the obstacles before us in terms of bringing modern technology into our new home. Heating quickly became the most difficult of these tasks to complete. Because of the weather, it was our number one priority. Too bad we weren’t theirs.

Nearly everywhere I have lived in the past, the tenant is required to set up bills in their name upon entering a new home. Most places I have been, they do not shut off the utilities if there is a short interim time, but simply have you pay for it with your first bill. This is a sort of curtesy so that you do not find yourself unable to enjoy the excitement of a new flat due to a lack of utilities. As you have guessed from the first two paragraphs, this is not how it works in Istanbul. 

Fortunately, Akin was aware of this and instantly began checking off the ‘move in’ tasks the day after we signed a lease. While this may sound obvious in theory, it is certainly not simple in practice. Herein lies a grand difference between Turkey and the United States. In the USA, if someone wanted to set up electricity or gas or any other utility, they would likely pick up the phone, call the company and request that someone come and tun it on. If only.....oh, if only. 

In Turkey, you are required to actually physically visit the office for the particular utility, which you would like to set up. Because individual, private companies take care of each and because there is pretty much a monopoly on the market, you don’t really have much of a choice where to go. Further, there is absolutely no reason for these companies to be located near one another as, again, they are not affiliated. These companies also seem to see no reason to open multiple branches or to be centrally located. After all, its all Istanbul, right? And I presume real estate in central locations is quite expensive. This means that the individual is required to trek to these offices one at a time in order to set up an apartment. Public transportation for each of these adventures is likely cost you between $10-$20 and take at least two hours round trip.....probably more.

Now for the offices themselves. Briefly put, expect to wait anywhere from 1-2 hours and expect to have to come back at least once. Something will inevitably be wrong with at least one of the documents required for any given transaction or they won’t be able to locate your home and need you to get some obscure number off of the meter or contact your landlord about X. All of these things could of course be easily solved were one speaking with the kind agent over the telephone before trekking across the globe. 

Even after you have sorted everything in the office, you naturally aren’t done yet. As with anywhere in the world, you have to wait in your home, which is of course cold and dark at this point, for the technician. With gas in our unfortunate case, this took three attempts. The first attempt was on the morning following our visit to the office. The technician came promptly at 10:30 for the scheduled 10-12 slot. Unfortunately he turned  around almost immediately without turning on our gas and said that we would need a certificate stating that a particular pipe was clean. Apparently this information was buried somewhere in the 20 page booklet that they had given us the day before. I guess we missed that part. Naturally, this inspection was done by a separate company who couldn’t provide the service on the same day as our call. Given that it was a Friday, this was very disappointing news.

That evening, we had some furniture delivered to the house, which was thankfully done just after dusk. Thank God for my geeky camping gear fetish. The headlamp saved us as we still had no electricity to assist in the installation. When the task was completed we huddled together speechless in the corner of our empty living room with our backs agains the icy wall contemplating what to do next. Staying in a cold, dark flat without any amenities didn’t sound very attractive, but our options were limited. Akin’s uncle, with whom we had been staying, had moved earlier in the week and now live quite far away. In addition, he was not home and we had no idea when we would be able to get into his place to sleep. We had other friends, but none of them really had extra beds or couches for two.  More importantly, we were just plain sick of couch surfing. We were stuck in a catch 22.

As we were rueing our very existence with one solitary beam streaming from Akin’s forehead before us and cold plaster behind us, something very magical happened. We heard a loud crack and some heavy footsteps in the stairwell. It sounded rather menacing to be honest...especially given our state at the time. Then something even stranger happened. A faint golden glow appeared from behind us. We shot each other confused glances with heads cocked like a pup when you make a strange inhuman noise that it can’t comprehend. My first conclusion was that someone was coming through the stairwell and had turned on the those lights. Seemingly in unison however, we both realized that the true source of the glow was our own bedroom. We had light! It was 7:30 on a Friday night and the electric company had come through. I kid you not when I say that we leapt for joy.

From then on things began to pick up slowly but surely. That evening we procured an electric space heater that I had happened to see abandoned in Akin’s uncle’s previous flat to which we still had a key. Perhaps even more miraculously, on our way back from his uncle’s old apartment, we passed a man, who was selling pillows and blankets out of the back of his van. As it was now after 10 pm and the all of the shops were closed, this was a godsend. We loaded our booty into the back of a taxi and made our way back to the palace. These items got us through the following week, which was the time that it took to finally get our pipe inspected and the gas turned on.

One week later, we are back where the story started. We now have heat, water and electricity. We’ve purchased a refrigerator, stovetop, two beds and a washing machine. We’ve been given 5 carpets, dishes, pots and pans. Thanks to the help of Akin’s mother, the flat has been thoroughly cleaned and organized as much as possible in the given circumstances. Our suitcases have been transformed into quite hilarious, but effective closets and it is amazing all the various functions that an old stool, a small marble slab and a couple of pillows can serve.The only step left is setting up internet so that I can publish this post.

VISA DRAMA PART 2: NOT ENOUGH STICKERS TO GO AROUND

After spending an entire day failing to apply for a residence permit in Istanbul, we were at least armed with a web address that would theoretically provide us with needed information. Of course the website was only available in Turkish, which meant that once again Akin had to do the bulk of the work. I’m not sure how anyone without such an amazing and dedicated partner would ever weed their way through the process. I suspect that they would probably end up spending a lot of money.

When we logged onto the website and began the process of applying we learned that one must schedule an appointment at police headquarters--yes, that place again-- to turn it in. When we got to the part of the application for setting up the appointment we learned that the earliest appointment was March 17th. It was February 15th. May I point out that the Turkish Consulate’s website for the United States claims that residency permit applications must be turned in within 30 days of arriving in the country. This means that even if I had arrived in the country on that exact day and set up the appointment, I would only be granted an audience on the 30th day.....Here is where I began to panic and to think outside the box.

At this point, I would like to say thank you to all of my friends who welcomed me to their home countries when I thought that I might have to flee. You see, the 30 day deadline only applies to days actually spent in Turkey. According to this clause, I would be able to leave Turkey, hide out elsewhere and return right before my visa application appointment without exhausting the maximum number of days in the country. Not ideal, but it would have worked. 

Next option. We contacted the foreigner’s branch of the Mersin police department to see  about getting an appointment there. Akin’s family is from Mersin so we figured I could simply apply with their address. At this point we learned that it is only the Istanbul and Ankara offices that even require an appointment for turning in the application. This was great news as it meant that I could complete the process within the necessary time period without leaving the country. Unfortunately Mersin is about a 10 hour bus ride away so its basically like leaving the country. Fortunately there was even more good news to follow. We were then told that there wasn’t actually a 30 day cut off, rather, it is a suggestion that is, shall we say, strongly stated in order to encourage you not to put the process off. Even further, they told us that if we were to apply in Mersin we could complete the entire process within a week. This sounded too good to be true.

Next we contacted Turkey’s Foreign Ministry asking the same questions again. Initially the man answered, “Yes, the new law states that you can only receive one 90 day visa within 180 days.” When asked about my visa specifically, he said, “Oh, that won’t apply because the new law hasn’t been implemented yet. She will certainly be able to get another 90 day visa as she obtained the visa before the law was implemented.” We asked a few more specific questions and the general conclusion was that I would have no problem. He also confirmed that there was no 30 day deadline for the residency permit. 

I was feeling a lot more confident about the issue, especially after speaking with a German/Bulgarian couple who told us that they did not apply for their residency within 30 days, but were able to obtain it successfully. Nonetheless, there was still one question left to be answered. Why was I given the visa that corresponded to a law that didn’t yet technically exist? As I mentioned previously, Akin and I had been following blogs on the topic. In addition, we had been communicating with some other foreigners in Istanbul who were also attempting to sort heads from tails. After speaking with the foreign ministry we received a reply from a girl who had received the same visa that I had. She had noticed the change upon purchasing it at the airport and had asked why the visa had changed. They simply replied, “Oh, there is no change. We just ran out of the other stickers.” Man, I wish I would have asked that question.

VISA DRAMA PART 1: POLISISTAN

Last week while Akin was flipping through my passport he noticed that my current visa looks different than the visa that I was given when I visited Turkey last summer. Little did we know that this casual inspection would send us both into a frenzy that would involve a hours of aimless walking back and forth, a plethora of unanswered phone calls and countless frustration. All of this drama was was set off by the three words, “per 180 days”.

Both visas stated that the bearer was allowed to stay within Turkey for 90 days, but the aforementioned added statement was quite disconcerting. Before you think me an unprepared fool, I would like to assure you that I very thoroughly checked the parameters of a tourist visa before leaving the USA. All the information that I had seen suggested that after a 90 day period had passed an individual simply needed to leave the country for 3 days in order to renew the visa. These additional three words at the end of my visa seemed to suggest that this was not the case. Instead of three days, it appeared that one would be required to leave for three months before obtaining a new tourist visa.

Ideally, it would not matter whether I would be able to obtain a second tourist visa or not as I hope to find a job that will help me to obtain a residence/work permit but doing is a rather involved multi-step process. There are many schools in Turkey that are seeking native English speakers to teach students of various levels. Finding a job would not be problem, but finding a legal job is a bit of a different story. Many of the places hiring English teachers are not willing to put in the effort to fill out all of the paperwork for an actual work permit. These schools will generally take in any wandering hippie who is willing to sit around and chat with kids and live under the radar (yes, this is a hint to those of my friends who might be looking for an adventure). Legally however, in order to hire an English teacher, schools must ensure that all teachers are certified. This means that in order to work for an institution that will help me with a work visa, I first need to go through a certification process...A process that is taking much longer than I originally anticipated.

Needless to say the revelation that I may not be able to obtain another tourist visa for three months upped the stakes on the desire to finish my certification and get a job. This anxiety was even further perpetuated when I learned that if you wish to apply for residency (this does not include working privileges) you must do so within 30 days of arriving in Turkey. I learned this information on day 22 at 4:00 pm on a Friday.

On Monday Akin and I set out on our quest to establish my residency. We reasoned that if the new law would not allow me to get a second tourist visa and I was unable to find a job that would get me a work visa, it would be my only option. All information on the Turkish Consulate’s website as well as the American Embassy’s stated that an individual should do this at their local police department. This was our first stop.....Of course that would have been to easy. This is bureaucracy after all. We were sent to the Istanbul main police station--or should I say, police complex. 

Police headquarters was the size of a small village only with skyscrapers instead of hovels. We were kindly greeted before entering the premises by several officers going about their daily rituals with semi-automatic rifles. These may have been the only individuals in the entire place who actually were efficient at their job...intimidating the hell out of me.

After several levels of security checks we were allowed into Polisistan-they even had a hair dresser in the complex-we were sent to the ‘Foreigners’ Branch’. When we arrived at what seemed to be the correct building, floor and hall we asked the kind man at the ‘Information Desk’ where we ought to be. After looked at my passport it became apparent that he had no idea whatsoever the change in visas meant. When we asked who we ought to talk to he basically told us to ‘Fuck off’. Not such a kind man after all. We then wandered around the complex for a while trying to find where we ought to be, but according to everyone else at there, the original desk was unfortunately ‘where we ought to be’. 

Finally Akin literally just walked past one of the many barriers that were in place for crowd control-- and there were certainly crowds--and opened a random office door and quickly asked the woman behind the desk about my visa and passport before one of the other officers could shoo him away. The lady responded that one only needed to leave the country for 3 days and return in order to get a new tourist visa. 

I had spent the entire weekend researching what the changes were with the tourist visas. What I had learned was that the change did in fact mean that you could only stay in Turkey for a maximum of three months within a six month period, but that the implementation of the new law had been repeatedly delayed. Nowhere on the Turkish Consulate’s page was this mentioned. Rather, most of my information had come from a collection of travel blogs. I figured that my visa stating, “per 180 days,” was all the proof I needed. This woman’s response surprised and completely confused me. Was it possible that she didn’t eve know about the change.

Finally, just before leaving the complex, we were given a website where I could log on and obtain an application form for residency. Once again, this would prove more difficult than one would believe it ought to be...........to be continued

More Precious than an Alien

“People are strange when you’re a stranger....” I’ve had this song in the background of my mind quite a bit in the last couple of weeks. Now before I scare my mother or any other readers out there, I should say that I have yet to have any dramatic culture shocks which have threatened either my safety of my existential being. What I have had are a series of, for the most part, delightful and hilarious realizations of cultural distinction. That, and a lot of people staring at me.

First and foremost. I walk around speaking English. Lots of people here speak some English and there are many tourists at specific places within the city, but the majority of my time is not spent in these areas, which means....I stick out. This however is far from the only aspect of my existence that seems to turn heads.

Apparently it is quite strange for Turkish women to have short hair. I’ve actually taken to counting them. I’ve been here for 16 days and I’ve counted around 9. This cultural distinction admittedly makes me a bit self conscious. I should be careful to point out that this is not because I don’t like my hair or find it unstylish. In fact, the women I’ve seen here with short hair appear to be some of the most trendy in the city. Rather, as most travelers would understand, I don’t want to automatically be taken for a tourist and having a drastically different hairstyle lends itself to such assumptions.

You might be thinking that I am simply paranoid and that people probably don’t notice my hair at all. When I am walking down the street in a crowd, I would imagine that you are correct, but when I comes to one on one communication, many Turkish individuals I encounter have had no qualms in pointing out the oddity. “What happened to your hair?”, “Why don’t you grow your hair?”, “Your hair would look good longer.”, and “You’re beautiful, but you should grow your hair.” are just a few of the responses I’ve received. If only I still had dreadlocks.

Next, cooking. Oh Goddess, cooking. Now here is a serious one. Those of you who read ‘Turk Gobegi’ have already heard me express my intimidation with food in Turkey. This is exponentially exacerbated when I comes to preparing food myself. 

If you know me in the states, you probably don’t know me as an extravagant cook, but hopefully as a competent one. Ok, yes, I verge on the realm of hippie, whole food junky who emphasizes nutrition over taste, but all in all I can usually be trusted not to disgust or harm you when I’m in the kitchen. Apparently this is not necessarily always the case here. 

Even when I think that I am preparing perfectly normal meals, I’ve had Turks recoil in fear and literally mutter, “That’s just not right.” Now if you’re wondering what I could have made, which brought about such a reaction, don’t worry. I wasn’t subjecting the poor folk to my famous spinach smoothies, as I understand that would be too much too soon. It was spaghetti. Plain old spaghetti noodles with sauce from a jar. Naturally I’d added my own spices, but for the most part it was pretty much what you’d expect other than one slightly unusual adaptation. I had added sauteed cubed chicken, eggplant and a variety of other vegetables in substitution  for ground beef. You be the judge. I won’t even mention the reaction when I made potato soup.

Sometimes its not even a specific thing that draws attention--at least as far as I can tell. Last week the cleaning lady came to the house. This was the third time that I have seen the woman so I would think that perhaps the novelty would have worn off, but instead it only got worse. No matter where I went in the flat, her eyes followed. I would greet her when I passed--in Turkish--and she would simply stare blankly without a smile. It wasn’t as though she was being mean. I don’t think this was the case at all. Rather, it was just, well, awkward. At one point, she literally tripped over a stool in the hall way because she refused to tear her gaze away from me as she turned a corner. Don’t worry, I didn’t laugh. At times like this, I’m slightly relieved that I don’t speak more Turkish as I would have even less of an idea what to say, but feel obligated nonetheless. 

Now all in all I should point out that I have found people overwhelmingly welcoming and receptive, but these few instances always leave me feeling a bit off kilter. I guess when I’m faced with such situations I’ll just keep going back to what Akin’s cousin, Sezai, said last July when I visited his family, “We have an American. That’s more precious than an alien.”