Settling In

I’ve been here for nearly nine months now and I’ve most drastically just realized that I never really sit and do absolutely nothing. I guess I had several lazy days in the summer where I didn’t really acomplish much, but even those were filled with silly tastks like facebook that kept me even more bored than I would have been otherwise.

Only moments ago  I was reminded of the beauty of quietude. I am at home alone in the apartment. It is the first very cold week of the year and all of the electricity went off in our entire district. The typical reaction to such seems to be a minor panic and anamosity regarding all the things we could be accomplishing but are suddenly barred from taking part in. This evening I found myself genuinely pleased especially when I discovered that the computer I was working on and my cell phone were both about to die. It was as if the universe had goven me permission to take a rain check on participating in anything I am “supposed” to do. 

I poured some wine, lit a candle and covered the turtles to keep them fom getting cold. I’d spent about 10 minutes on the couch feeling quite tranquil and decided to grab this pen and paper when the lights came back on. I shut them off.

Workers' Rights

I like to think of myself as having a strong character, but not someone who stresses too much about small stuff. That said, I have a temper and when it gets tripped, it is very difficult to stuff Pandora back into the box. As you are probably guessing by now, this happened recently. Fortunately, I discovered that is task was not left to me alone.

Last Saturday, I completed my last day of work at ALTA language training center. The school is designed around fast paced extremely intensive English courses for wealthy business people. They wine them and dine them at the price of 2,000 Turkish Liras per 5 day course. It is our job as teachers to wait on, clean up after, babysit and oh yeah educate them. We spend 9 hours a day locked in the room with 2-6 students with no breaks. We eat together, play games together and even drink wine together in the evening (admittedly a nice perk). We literally do everthing but piss with the students. There is even a rule requiring that if someone wants to smoke, the entire class should join them on the balcony, which is actually a fire escape. Every non smokers dream: cramming into a crowded space in the sweltering Istanbul sun while your colleagues blow smoke in your face....Awesome. Despite the cynicism, I usually genuinely loved the students and we would leave the course with promises to remain in contact. The school on the other hand, it is probably aparent, I did not genuinely love.

In May I decided that I had been successfully indoctrinated into the world of ESL teaching and had gained enough experience to move on. I put in my required 2 months notice, which fortunately included a month which I had already taken off in order to teach online. My primary reason for leaving was that I did not trust the company. These suspicions would later be confirmed.

As I mentioned, last week marked the end of my employment with ALTA. I finished my classes on Saturday with a little remorse as the week had gone splendidly. I even managed to get 5/5 in every category from each student on the company generated survey. This theoretically meant that I would get a bonus for the week. I didn’t really expect the company would honor the bonus given that it was my last week and bonuses generally come with the following payment. And as I already mentioned, I don’t trust them. This didn’t stress me too much, moreso I was just happy that my students were so pleased with the course. That said, I quickly changed my laissez faire approach to toward payment after leaving the classroom.

The staff member on duty that evening, Pinar, was particularly rude trying to rush us through the 7 or 8 pages of paperwork that must be meticulously filled out and the 20 some odd documents that must be signed. She kept repeating, “Come on. Once upon a time I had a ticket to a concert.” When I had finally successfully gotten through the mound, she presented me with my payment envelope and asked me to sign for it. I did not sign this document as when I opened the envelope it was 125TL short of what my weekly pay should have been. When I asked why, she irritatedly shrugged and said, “I don’t know, you’d have to talk to Kadir for that. Just sign.” Kadir, the teachers’ coordinator, who is in charge of our pay had conveniently choosen to work at the other office that day. When I convinced Pinar that there was no way that I would sign, without getting paid in full, she dialed him up.

According to our broken conversation, the 125TL had been deducted from my pay based on the fact that a student had dropped from my class. The student in question had in fact dropped out of one of my class.......in March. This had taken place during my trial week with the company. He assured me that this was standard and that it was stated in the “Guidelines for Teachers” which he had given me before I began working. This was a lie.

At this point, I will briefly explain how the employment process works at ALTA. A teacher first goes through a week of observation; watching other teachers to learn the method. If they are deemed worthy, they are given a trial week, during which they are in charge of their own course. Teachers are hired based on their success as an effective educator during their trial week. Kadir didn’t seem to notice the paradox of my being hired in the first place and his claim that money should be withheld based on a theoretical failure during my trial week. My pride also forces me to notify my readers that all students who stayed in the course during the trial week rated me with all 4s or 5s in all categories on the survey and even included positive comments regarding my skills as a teacher. I’ll spare any further rantings on this topic, but it will suffice to point out that I was livid.

My anger was ever further fueled by the fact that the teachers’ coordinator speaks English terribly and he was apparently on a crowded street. We are all familiar with the obnoxious, “What? I can’t hear you. What? What did you say?” back and forth to oblivion. Its even worse when the person you are speaking with is theoretically your manager but speaks English with an accent and grammar of a 12 year old with downs syndrome. When I gave in to the fact that the phone call was futile I yelled 4 times successively louder trying to remain calm and speak clearly that I was hanging up....I’m not sure if he ever actually understood, but frankly at that point I didn’t care. After hanging up I wrote a note on the sheet stating that I had not received my pay in full and gave Pinar her precious signature and sent her off to her concert. Needless to say, this was not the last day of work experience that I had hoped for, but at least it was over.

Akin and I had planned to go to our favorite restaurant and bar that evening to celebrate my last day of work. Sadly, I didn’t feel much like celebrating. Naturally I was happier than ever to be rid of the place, but my brain was running in loops. I was slowly putting together the big picture. Yes, ALTA had screwed me out of 125 TL, but that was only a drop in the bucket. The company keeps a salary custody from all employees of 1,500 TL, which is to be paid after they cease employment. I was now certain that they were going to come up with some excuse for keeping this. When I added all of the numbers together including the survey bonuses, the company owed me 2,005 TL and I was certain I would have to fight for it. Even though I was not in a celebratory mood, I definitely felt like a beer, so off we went.

We walked down to the restaurant, which has a great patio and is composed primarily of outdoor seating. We had been here many times before as it is a convenient meeting point and we had become good friends with one of the waiters. He would visit our house about once a week and we would go there for dinner with the same frequency. Something different happened on this night when we arrived at the restaurant. The owner of the restaurant invited us to sit with he and his friends in an area reserved for the affiliates of the establishment.

The worry on my face must have been obvious to everyone as both the owner of the restaurant and the owner of the building almost immediately asked Akin what was wrong with me. This was impressive because I had only met them each a couple of times and we didn’t share a common language. Akin conveyed the story of my afternoon while I fretted in my own little world. After the story was finished, the owner simply said, “Don’t let me forget this tomorrow.” About half an hour later, our friend, the waiter and cousin of the owner came and told Akin that I shouldn’t be worried, that the boys were going to get my money back.

Here I should provide you with some background. I live in an area of Istanbul called Besiktas, which is home to one of the biggest soccer teams in Turkey. As soccer, or football, is taken very seriously here, so are fan clubs. The individuals currently being discussed are the heads of the Besiktas fan group and the restaurant is a sort of base for them.This meant two things in my case. 1) They had a lot of connections. 2) They weren’t affraid of a little conflict. If anyone has seen Green Street Hooligans, you’ll have some idea of what I’m talking about.

Admittedly this made me a bit nervous. I didn’t want any drama, but I decided to trust them as I was completly on my own and they seemed to genuinely want to help. I needed some Turkish style influence. Honestly, I expected that they would forget my situation in a day or two anyway. I was wrong. The following day we stopped by the restaurant on the way home and plans were already in place to put pressure on ALTA. I was surprised with their interest in my situation and diligence to follow it up, but the building owner explained, “The money doesn’t matter and the amount isn’t important. You earned that money. We are very proud here and Besiktas center is a family. I understand your frustration, coming from the United States, but workers rights are not the same here. This is just how business is done in Turkey.”

Yesterday Akin went with one of the men to ALTA and argued my case. The company now knows that they will not get to keep my money without a fight. I don’t know how it will ultimately turn out but the situation has taught me a lesson about the importance of loyalty and community in Turkey. I am still furious that my employer would try to get away with such a blatant attempt at stealing from me, but even stonger is my appreciation for the individuals who looked out for me, despite our limited familiarity. They have made me feel more at home in Turkey and more protected than anything over the last 6 months.

Disparity in Turkish Education

I have several friends in Istanbul, who are educators of various kinds. One friend works in a public school which is run by the city. She is an English teacher, though her English is admittedly not that good. When I asked her about her work she explained to me that she mostly uses textbooks and that the children, 5th graders, will work independently correcting sentence structures and filling in missing vocabulary words. When I pointed out that this completely ignores the two most essential forms of the English language, speaking and listening, she giggled and said, “Those aren’t possible in my school.” Confused, I pushed the issue further. “What do you mean? How can you have an English class without speaking?” She responded, “I do speak to some, but most of them don’t hear me even when I do. I have classes of around 70 students. I mostly just try to keep them in their seats and prevent them from poking each other with pencils.”

Fortunately for some, there is an alternative. Private schools have become increasingly popular in Turkey and learning English has become a very important part of their agenda and a globalizing world. These schools strive insist on hiring native English speakers whose wages are generally 30-50% higher than their Turkish counterparts. I had the opportunity to visit one of these schools recently. I entered a building that looked like a wealthy plantation home through 20 ft freshly painted white colums. The entry closer resembled a Las Vegas hotel reception than a school with its marble floors, atmospheric lighting and molded ceiling. I was given a tour of the grounds which included a beautiful olympic sized swimming pool and gardens. The multimedia center included computers for each student which could be used for English listening labs. The staff included 9 English teachers, 4 of whom were native for a student body of 1000. Each teacher was issued their own laptop by the school and provided with ample working space in a shared office with plentiful supporting materials. I was also informed that each year the students would take a trip to a different country to suppliment their English education. Last year they had visited the European Parliment in Brussels.

I was absolutely dumbfounded at the stark contrast between the two situations that I had encountered. Even more so by the fact that the students coming from either institution were somehow expected to compete with one another in the future job market. It seemed nearly impossible that an average coming from the public sector could ever hope to work hard enough to compete with an average student who had had so much of an advantage, but it seems impossible that such a highbrow education could be made available to the masses without a drastic restructuring in the countries education system and the funding that it receives.

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.