A Day in My Life

So much to say! A bit of a normal day in the life for you...

I woke with the call to prayer this morning (around 5 something), but thankfully went back to sleep. However, I remember thinking, "gee, the morning call is so much quieter than all the afternoon ones...seems like they'd make the morning one the loudest." Then, when the noon call to prayer sounded, I realized it was notedly quieter today as well. The loudspeaker on the mosque right next us must be broken. So it was just the man up in the minaret yelling out as loud as his little lungs will let him, just like in olden days. So happy am I for a broken loudspeaker!

Speaking of broken, our gas heater is broken--again, for the third time in six weeks. No heat, no hot water for us. Welcome home, schroomie #2! Fresh off the plane, and she gets to take a bucket shower. Yes, you read correctly. Lest anyone think I'm not suffering at all here (which I'm not, really), we had to heat water up in our electric kettle, and use a small pitcher to pour the water over our heads for our showers. What fun. Memories of India, I tell ya. We're glad for water and electricity. (In addition...our landlord and our boss are now fighting and calling each other liars...culture I guess?...to see who will buckle and who will win about fixing our heater. I'll keep you posted).

So I studied Turkish for three hours this morning (curled up on the couch with a blanket and the hot water bottle right next to my heart to keep myself warm). Three hours! Interestingly enough, the word for pineapple is 'ananas.' The same in Portugal...the same in Sri Lanka. Three completely different languages from three completely different backgrounds (Indo-European, Dravidian, and Turkic...all not related AT ALL), and yet the word for PINEAPPLE is identical in all three. Go figure.

I head out to meet my friend Nina at a cafe that she wanted to introduce me to. Nina is only beginning to learn English, so we are the perfect pair. As I learn things in Turkish, she learns them in English. We usually end up laughing hysterically at our miscommunication (or she laughs at me when I act out demonstrations for a word). This cafe has three rooms, one inside, one partially outside, and one completely outside. We sat in the partially outside room. There are sofas, cushy chairs, vines growing out of the brick walls, candle-lit...it's so crazy cool. It's more smoky than the average cafe, and once we sit down I realize why.

This is a cafe for smoking what some Americans have labeled, the Turkish bong. Yes, I said bong. I see one, at least table height, directly across from us. My eyes get huge, and I ask Nina, "Nina! What is that?" (Which remember, I can now say in Turkish, thank you very much!). She explains that it is from old Ottoman culture, the kings used these things (bongs) to smoke. I asked her, "smoke WHAT? Marijuana? Hashish?" Her eyes get big and she says, "NO! It is a healthier way to smoke cigarettes." (Yeah right...is there such a thing?)

So I ask, "Smoking this does not make their heads funny?" (How do you say HIGH to someone who doesn't speak English well?") She laughed and said no. Then she asked me if I had ever smoked marijuana. Um...NO! Then she asked if I wanted to try the Turkish bong (she didn't call it that...and I forgot to ask what it was called.). Again...um...NO!

So we sat in the Turkish bong supercool cafe and spoke Turkish/English for two hours. My waiter asked me (in Turkish) "where are you from? Where do you live?" I understood both and responded to both. =) The next waiter (there is never just one person to do a job in Asia...there are always a bazillion people. One person takes your order, another brings your order, another clears it away, another brings your bill...) The next waiter, I asked for my bill in Turkish, and he was thrilled at my practicing his language. (Or thrilled at my blue eyes and red hair...who knows?)

I left the cafe with a skip in my step and a smile in my heart. (Maybe they weren't smoking cigarettes in there after all...just kidding). As I rounded the corner near the Tower, I see a waiter from the restaurant where we ate the other night (the Windex one). The waiter is standing outside, trying to convince tourists to come in to eat. In English, he says (not to me), "Kebabs? Fish, Meat, we have good...You come in?" He sees me, smiles, and says, "Merhaba!" (Can I just say how thrilled I was that one, he didn't heckle me, and two, he switched from English to Turkish when he saw me? Happy day!)

So I say, "Merhaba!" Just as I am about to spit out my "how are you?" (in Turkish, obviously), he beats me to the punch and asks, "Nasilin?" (How are you?) Without missing a beat, I respond, "Iyiyim, saol. Sen nasilsin?" (I'm great, how are you?). He smiles, glad that I'm learning. That's all I know, so I say, "Eyaksamlar!" (Good night!) And continue on my way.

Singing VICTORY IN JESUS, cause it's one of those days!

So now I'm home (since I'm giving you a day in the life)...and will make Mexican Lasagna. Except that we'll use chicken instead of beef. And penne noodles instead of lasagna noodles. And plain yogurt instead of sour cream. And with no cottage cheese. But we have taco seasoning and cheddar cheese (again, VICTORY), so we're making mexican, dagnabit!

That's my day...broken mosque loudspeakers, bucket showers, Turkish bongs, and mexican. O happy day!