Good-byes and Lessons

Somewhere, some place, we will see you again. 

Come back to Turkey soon--you’re an American, you don’t need visas to go anywhere. 

I know where to go when I come to the States: Detroit, Michigan!

You better be coming to my wedding. I’m mailing you the invitation. 

I hope you are leaving with good memories of us. 

You want to live in Turkey someday? --Well, maybe. Why you not just marry Turkish man? 

Don’t forget us, teacher. 

 After 3 unforgettable weeks introducing my family to tea and the call to prayer, I came back to Erzurum for one final weekend. Now I’m on my way home for real. I’m typing while sitting and sweating (air conditioners can make you ill) at Erzurum Airport’s only gate. The ride to the airport was beautiful. As a reward for 9 months of winter, Erzurumlu are given a perfect summer. The mountains are green and covered with wildflowers and the dry climate makes the skies cloudless. 

You’ll have to forgive me for this sentimental entry but I can’t imagine it another way. My good-byes to Erzurum have been quite drawn out. I said good-bye to my students when classes ended, I said good-bye to some of friends who left for their hometown while I was with my family at the beginning of June, and I made my final good-byes this weekend. For my heart’s sake, I have to follow-up every good-bye with a promise to visit. Especially, because I know that I will get the response, ‘inshallah’, God willing. And they are correct: there is no way to know today but God willing, I will visit. Two of my colleagues will marry in two years and I’ve asked them, with a wink, to set their dates close together so I can attend both. Inshallah. 

When I introduced my family to my boss, Muzaffer Bey, he told my parents that he was disappointed that I had changed my mind about staying for another year. He continued, however, that he knew why I had decided to go home. He motioned to the five of us surrounding him, drinking one of our first of many teas together and said, “Because of you all. I know that Helen misses you.” He is right. I thank him and many of the Turks I met this year for reinforcing that truth: family is the most important. My parents taught me this truth  by raising my siblings and I in the loving way they did.  Before I came to Turkey, this was balanced in my head with the American emphasis on individualism and self-empowerment. Now that I’ve had a year in another culture, it’s easier to comment on my own. I see that in America, children are encouraged to go far away if it means better education or a better opportunity. Missing family reunions or weddings are excused for professional or educational reasons. I don’t deny that such ideals have a place but living in a society where family was truly, truly number one has had a true impact on me. 

If I asked my 18-year-old male students to describe the most beautiful woman they know, I can guarantee that most, if not all, would describe their mother. For traditional Turkish marriages, more emphasis is placed on the engagement than the wedding because that is when the families of the bride and groom meet for the first time. It was not uncommon for my students to answer “homesick” before they answered “fine, thanks, and you?” when I asked them how they were doing. My girlfriend Nermin’s mother came to visit from Istanbul for a month this year and it was perceived as too short a time in one year to spend with your mother. And no one seemed surprised at all when I said that my family would be staying for 3 weeks. 

I don’t mean to be critical of the American way of living the “family is number one” adage and if it wasn’t for the American values of ambition and stretching oneself, I would not be sitting in the Erzurum airport right now. But as I reflect at all the lessons Turkey has taught me this year, I keep coming back to this value on family. 

Now, I will not hesitate to confidently state that one of my most important long term goals is to be close to my family. I want to be successful and I want to have a meaningful career but I am also willing to amend that path to see my family easily in the long run. 

To my Turkish friends and students, thank you for teaching me to be proud of how much I love and want to be with my family. And thank you for treating me like a daughter and a sister since my family was so far away this year. You taught me, guided me and loved me and there is not way to truly express my thanks. Okay, I am now on the plane, crying and breaking regulations by keeping this laptop on. For the safety of this plane and for the comfort of the man next to me who does not know what to do, I will close my computer. 

What I will miss and not miss . . .

An incomplete list: 

I will miss çağ kebab. Lamb roasted sideways on the fire and served with flat bread, peppers and yogurt by waiters who know your drink order because you are one of four foreigners to enter their restaurant. An Erzurum speciality. Yum. 

I will not miss been nearly toppled over by teyzes (aunties) who seem to have no sense of personal space or possibly peripheral vision under all their layers of clothing. 

I will miss the kindness of bus drivers, waiters, government workers and handymen. No task seemed too great for me to receive a rude response. I’ve been “given a break” on everything this year. When I was late for the bus, drivers waited. When I was a few lira short, I was told not to worry about it. When I ordered a drink not in stock, a little boy was sent out to fetch it.

I will not miss the over the shoulder stare from the person behind me in line every time I withdrew money. I guess knowing how much money the young foreigner had was very important for the city of Erzurum to know. 

I will miss being a guest. After 9 months, I no longer deserve the status (I have a residency card, not a tourist visa!) but I can’t say I stopped enjoying the perks. I wasn’t charged for my excess baggage weight today at the Turkish Airlines counter because I was guest to Turkey. 1. No way Delta is not doing that, not even to welcome me home. 2. How is that sustainable business practice for an airline? 

I will not miss the toilets. I will spare you the details but I will certainly not miss the toilets. 

I will miss trying to speak Turkish and the victorious feeling of being understood. 

I will not miss not knowing what people are talking about, especially when I’ve already asked them to explain. 

I will miss all the Turkish phrases that are appropriate for specific situations. Geçmis olsun: said to a sick person or to someone who just did something difficult, from taking an exam to bumping his or her head. Afiyet olsun: said before eating, after eating, while eating, when you are walking to lunch, when you are buying food. Kolay gelsin: said to someone who is doing work from sweeping the floor to working in a shop. Selam söyle: said when someone is talking to or soon visiting family, it means “say hi”. I will also miss the praise from my students when I used one of these appropriately. 

I will miss Turkish Airlines. The best airline in Europe...and Asia. (Actual slogan)

I will miss the extension of activities. In Erzurum, dinner invitations turn into sleepovers, breakfasts end at 5 pm. Social events never seem to end unless I had a genuine excuse to leave. (Side note: Having to skype my family, prepare for class or being tired were never adequate excuses. I learned that I could just use my hosts’ internet to skype, prepare for class while they did the dishes, or take a nap in their bed!)

I will miss the lira. And getting a paycheck, I suppose. For now at least. 

I will miss the tea after dinner. But never fear, friends and family, I have a double boiler teapot (necessary) and a kilo of tea from the city of Rize (only the best) in my overweight suitcase for after dinner teas in the future. 

Benim kız kardeşim geldi! My sister came!

Being an abla (elder sister) comes with its struggles and rewards. Its struggles, like your little sister forgetting to pack her toothbrush not once but twice--even after you buy her another one, are often comical. Its rewards are many and powerful. The rewards: Colette agreeing after only one phone call to come to Turkey a week before the rest of the family to help me pack and to travel  together. Accepting and understanding my superfluous tears as she describes Kathleen's wedding to me (Am I extra emotional this week about leaving Erzurum, my friends, and students? Certainly.). Not caring that our mini bus will not leave for another half hour because there is no where she would rather be than staring at Akdamar Island on the shores of Lake Van--plus, we have some almonds to eat. And finally, telling me that she knows I am busy but she wishes I would blog more because she likes it. And she would be a good guest blogger. So here she is. Ladies and gentlemen, Colette Berg!

It seems that all I have done since I arrived in Turkey on Sunday is eat, drink tea, and meet kind people. I tell you, this is my kind of country. Everywhere we go in Erzurum, people greet us with a cheerful hello, ask my name, and offer us tea. I love getting the chance to see the strong community that my sister has here--from her enthusiastic students to her co-workers at the university to the waiters at the Fulbrighters' favorite restaurant. Yesterday, while drinking tea with HM's boss, (this was our fourth out of seven cups that day), he lamented that HM is going back to the US soon. However, he admitted, "Family comes first." I must agree. While I am so excited to see the sights of Turkey, this is a small joy compared to the joy of being with my Abla again.

My most memorable day so far was going to a mangal--barbecue--with HM and Nermin's English students. They had just completed their final English exam, so no doubt their brains were fried, yet many of them still made conversation with me, with many gestures to facilitate understanding. We ate dozens of chicken wings with lavash bread, then goofed around on the playground. My proudest moment was during a volleyball game. I heard the phrase "salaam aleikoum"--peace be with you--and gave the response "aleikoum salaam"--and also with you. Ironic that my first successful Turkish interaction occurred in Arabic. Everyone clapped, happy to hear teacher's sister say something comprehensible. I had learned it from one of the Orhan Pamuk books HM recommended to me. As HM promised, traditional dance followed the meal. I learned a dance, realized that I have been snapping my fingers wrong all my life, and then did the Cupid Shuffle with HM, Nermin, and a few students. The best part about the afternoon was just getting to hang out with a bunch of people who just finished freshman year of college, just like me.

We decided to go to Van for the weekend, and I got the full eastern Turkey bus experience. An elderly Teyze--aunty--sat down in the aisle at my feet, and later fell asleep with her head almost in my lap. I slept for most of the bus ride, and when HM asked me if i was uncomfortable and wanted to switch places, I replied, "I am asleep right now," and promptly closed my eyes again.

Today we explored a beautiful Armenian church, and tonight we'll visit a castle! Insallah, the next few weeks will be as magical as my first few days in Turkey.

To my Mercy Girls

Blogging this semester clearly has been a struggle for me. For good reasons, I think. As my days left in Erzurum dwindle, I’ve doing my best to spend the most time I can with friends and students and see as much of this country and this part of the world before I’m back on the other side of the ocean. I’ve had some wonderful trip this spring: north to Trabzon for Easter, south to the beaches of Cyprus, further north to Kiev to visit the Engstroms and celebrate Orthodox Easter and I have two more trips scheduled for May to the beaches of Bodrum in the West and the sandy Southeastern cities of Adiyaman and Mardin. (Personal accomplishment: I have finally posted facebook photos of these travels (although it’s 11 pm and lesson plans still must be written!). I’ve been doing my best so that my students do not suffer from these trips but clearly my blogging has. 

I was asked to write a letter for the development office at Mercy about my time abroad. The request was to write about how my Mercy education has impacted my life in Turkey. I actually enjoyed writing it and thinking about the 5 Mercy values (Mercy girls, say them with me): mercy, justice, human dignity, option for the poor, and service. Although I’ve certainly discussed these topics already with many of you who follow my blog, I wanted to share the letter here. 

To my Mercy Girls All Over the World:

I spent this past year as a Fulbright English Teaching Assistant in the city of Erzurum in Eastern Turkey. I teach English to Turkish students, some of whom are first year engineering students at a university and others are practicing physicians at a local hospital. I'm one of only four Americans in the city and only a handful of English speakers of any kind --although my students are slowly joining that group! Erzurum is a snowy, conservative city in the mountains--a far cry from Mercy High in suburban Detroit. With reflection, however, I realize that the values I learned

between those North and South halls on Eleven Mile are still inextricably woven into my experience in Eastern Anatolia.

From Turkey, when I think about Mercy, I think about the Mercy girls who were my closest friends. In Erzurum, unmarried men and women interact socially less often than in the U.S.A. In Turkey, it is only socially acceptable for an unmarried woman like me to have girlfriends. Being a Mercy girl, I see something wonderfully familiar and natural about birthday celebrations with my Turkish friends: there are cupcakes, movie nights and sleepovers.  Friendships between females in Turkey are similar to those at Mercy in other ways too. At work each day, one of my co-workers inevitably asks everyone on the floor where we should eat and a collective decision is made, no one is left out. When someone has an idea about going to a movie, she often will post the idea on her facebook page so anyone who wants to come, can. I learned to value such inclusivity and communication at Mercy--where I was taught to be a good friend. I miss my Mercy sisters everyday but thanks to the example they set for me of friendship,  I know I will one day miss my Erzurum sisters too.

After sisterhood, the next word that comes to mind when I think of Mercy is diversity. As one coming from Detroit, I appreciated the effort made at Mercy to attract a student body from all communities. Mercy's teachers and administrators taught me that diversity did not simply appear after providing enough bus routes, but through conversation and intentional actions. Programs like Ethnic Bazaar and classes like Race Relations taught me that diversity must be valued but also worked towards. I have mulled over these lessons many times when I've engaged my students and co-workers in conversations about diversity in Turkey--a topic that is never easy. Turkey's history with minorities is a painful one as ethnic groups were forced out of the country or killed during its foundation. Their troubles are far from over and can still be glimpsed in my classrooms when the seating arrangement is sometimes based on ethnicity. Turkey's relationship with diversity is far too complicated for me, a foreigner in Turkey for only one year, to completely comprehend, but when

conversations on the topic turn pessimistic, I often turn inward to the ideals I learned at Mercy--that unity in diversity can be achieved through thoughtful discourse and process.

Next--faith. The faith that I established at Mercy has grown this year in Erzurum, in the way I hope it continues to grow each year of my life. The faith tradition of my neighbors, students and friends in Erzurum is nominally very different from the faith I cultivated at Mercy. The closest

Catholic Church is a five hour bus ride to the north. The minarets of three mosques that I see from my apartment window are signs that demonstrate the faith of this city. I am consistently inspired by the piety and devotion of my students, all of whom are Muslim. The care they take to say their

prayers on time and the meticulous preparation for those prayers reminds me of the importance of prayer and reflection in my own life. I remember my Kairos leader reminding us that God can be found in all actions made with love. I recall this truth when I see the love for God in the religious

practices of the people around me.

I still aspire to be that woman who Catharine MaCaulay and all the teachers I had at Mercy expect me to be, a woman who makes a difference. With their help and the example and friendship of all my Mercy sisters, I think I am on the right path.

Forever a Mercy girl,
HM

Home and Back Again

It’s been long enough since I last blogged for me to forget my password but I will not waste time with apologizes and jump right back in. I left Erzurum for 5 weeks in January and February and had a lovely time visiting the Labaune family in Paris, Paule in Nancy (6 years have passed since we stopped sharing a room but we have wonderfully not run out of things to talk about), Karolina in Warsaw and Danielle in Istanbul. My journey ended in Detroit. I went home for my Dad’s investiture and therefore conveniently saw every person in my life whom I love and had also traveled to Detroit for the same purpose. It was as perfect a trip for me as it sounds. The highlight was certainly w the people I got to see, even though I feel very fortunate that I saw some new parts of the world as well. 

I’ve been back in the Erzurum swing of things for one month now. And in that month I’ve heard from my students: “Bahar geldi inşallah, teacher!” To which I respond, “Yes, I hope spring is here, too.” It’s 35 degrees outside right now and the sun has set, such a nice reprieve from the subzero days of December. My window is actually open since I don’t control my heat and I think my landlord still thinks it’s in the negatives. 

I’ve been meaning to blog for a few days now, so I’ve “written” the beginning of several different blog entries in my head. I’ve decided to combine them. Since I never made it past the first few paragraphs of this mental writing, I will jot them down here as a few vignettes of my first month back in the ERZ--as I’ve recently started calling it. 

“Step-Touch-Mambo”

I joined a gym last semester and I was very confused when it closed two weeks later. I saw the light on as I walked past two weeks ago. Armed with more confidence in my Turkish language skills and the desire to work off my post holiday kilos, I walked in with the plan to ask to revive my former membership. It turns out the gym was renovated and under new management. Any hope of explaining that I once was a member of this gym was lost soon after I started my conversation with Nurcan, the feisty 4 foot 10 proprietor who did not speak without shouting (was it because the music was so loud or was she just used to yelling at people to run faster?). By the end of our talk, however, I signed up for twice a “Step Arobik” class for the equivalent of $25 a month. 

I’ll have to go back a bit in time for this part of the narrative. In October, during one of the first times I met with the other Fulbrighters in Eastern Turkey, we made two lists entitled “Things Turks are Good at” and “Things Turks are Not Good at”. At the time, it was both a bonding experience and a coping mechanism. We were all going through similar experiences in different cities in Eastern Turkey and we were trying to make sense of the sometimes unexplainable behaviors going on around us. We’ve since edited and added to those lists, our knowledge and understanding definitely improved since October. On the top of the “Not Good At” List was plumbing. On top of the “Good At” list was dancing. There was debate. Some of my colleagues believed that there must be some Turks that can not dance. They were wrong. And my Step Arobik class is proof. Whether it is to the sounds of Shakira, Usher or Tarkan, this group of women glide effortlessly off their step blocks to the floor and back.  Salsa, hip hop, belly dancing--boom, easy. Sometimes I think the teacher focuses a bit too much on everyone staying on beat than actually sweating. But hey, I’m here for the cultural experience.

Learning Arabic

Another addition to my schedule this semester is my new Turkish Language for Foreigners course. Finally! I came in with the goal this semester to not stop until I found a course to force myself to be more structured with my learning. I ended up walking into one--literally. The printer in our department was broken and I was advised to go to a man named Ahmet’s office and use his. Ahmet spoke no English...because he teaches the new Turkish course that will start Monday! Bingo! I am one of three students in the course. The two others are men from Syria. I occasionally meet Syrians in Erzurum and such encounters are always shocking reminders for me to count my blessings and well, because I feel I can do nothing else, pray. My new classmate, Soheb, told me that he and his wife were here in Erzurum but his parents and brothers are still in Aleppo. “Are they safe?” I asked. “No one in Syria is safe,” he replied. I am grateful that saying such things as, “I am praying for your family and your country” are appropriate to say in Turkish cultural (and presumably Syrian as well) because I did not know what else to say. Yesterday, our teacher was explaining the proper use of articles and adjectives when speaking about well-known people, i.e. facts that everyone knows. His examples: 1. Atatürk was a brave man. 2. Assad is a cruel man. 

Erzurum's own Shopaholic

And to lighten the mood, a tribute to my officemate, Aysel--who I absolutely adore. This is what I walked into this afternoon. She loves to shop. I asked her what she did before the mall in Erzurum opened three years ago. And she said, “I do other things besides shop!” But she could not think of any examples. 

Being a Good Host

Last weekend in preparation for other some other Fulbrighters to come to Erzurum to ski, I told Korey I was going to clean my apartment like “a Turkish woman.” He laughed and said that I was going to be up all night. I was not up all night but my apartment was also significantly below a Turkish woman’s standards. I’ve blogged at length about Turkish hospitality.  I have not blogged enough about the effort put into being a good host in Turkey. Turks do not just invite you over. They invite you over to a spotless home and a perfectly prepared meal. And as I become closer to some of my Turkish friends here, I am not, as I expected, invited over without such preparations. I am simply informed of the process. “Hey, Nermin, can I come over?” “Sure, come over at 7.” “Seven? It’s four o’clock right now.” “I know, I need to clean.” Three hours sounds excessive, but if you saw how spotless her home was, it makes sense. 

I’ve had conversations with some of my Turkish girlfriends about how the increase of women in the workforce  has not diminished their duties at home, it has only made planning for guests more necessary. One of my co-workers joked, that when she was growing up, guests could just drop by because her mother stayed home and therefore had more time to keep the house in perfect condition. She continued that guests need to give her fair warning for her to get her house in “acceptable” condition. Knowing how much effort my friends put forward just to have a casual sleepover make me appreciate them and this culture so even more. Maybe I will someday be invited over to a messy home, but at this rate, it seems like it will be a while. 

Speaking of, I am receiving a guest tonight. She is a friend from Turkish class in the U.S. and is studying abroad in Istanbul for the semester. And-ah!-she arrives in 4 hours, my floor is not washed, her bed is not made and dinner is not prepared. Whether those tasks will ever be achieved is uncertain. I’m not quite a full “hanım efendi” yet but I’ve learned quite a bit this year. Regardless of my success, I only have 4 hours--I better get started!

Ellerinize sağlık = Health to your Hands

       I’ve lived in Erzurum for four months now but this was my first weekend where I was  officially (or I suppose I don’t really know if that’s accurate) the only American in the city. Korey and Elizabeth took off for break on Friday. Emily is visiting another Fulbrighter a few hours away before returning Monday to teach our remaining 8 hours before we take off for break as well. I imagined this weekend would be full of final lesson planing and preliminary packing but instead it was full of reminders of the hospitality that made me fall in love with Turkey in the first place. 

           I don’t believe that I announced my singular status this weekend to many people but the news seemed to spread quickly amongst my acquaintances here that I was “alone” and should be duly taken care of. It’s Sunday afternoon around 2 pm and this is the first moment I’ve had to myself since Friday afternoon. And I’m waiting for a text from Zeynep, a student in the English Language Faculty who is (ready for this?) the daughter of Elizabeth’s boyfriend’s mother’s patient’s friend and has therefore acted like a member of the family. She is coming over to make dinner and then join me to see The Hobbit at the mall. I spent Friday night with a fellow teacher who had me over her house to meet her sister and roommate and drink wine and watch music videos. She is the only other woman at school who drinks and we had been talking about having a sleepover since I first arrived but finally scheduled it for the last night of the term. I got up early the next morning to ski with one of my doctor students and his family in Konakli, about 30 minutes away. I was the coldest I have ever been in my life but the view from the top of the ski lift was worth it; the mountains were so completely white, they looked like an ocean. I had dinner with Dr. Mehmet and his three children and they then dropped me off at the mall where I met fellow teacher and shopaholic, Nermin. We shopped and we then went to her house to watch “The Wedding Planner”, gossip, drink tea and eat chickpeas. I was once again extremely grateful for how warm the apartments are kept here.  I know I’m not “thinking globally” when I’m saying this but when it’s 10+ degrees below zero, you are fine with some smog from all the burning coal if it means a warm apartment. This morning I had breakfast with the women from my doctors’ class at Dr. Zeliha’s home. I don’t know how she manages a life as a full time doctor with three small children where she can still invite me over for a delicious spread of homemade bread, cheese, olives and eggs at ten in the morning. 

     This weekend reminded me of one of my first weekends here, when I was shuffled from person to person and home to home. There was something distinctly more comfortable and pleasant about this weekend compared to those first ones though. Instead of fielding questions about why I chose to come to Erzurum and what I know about  Turkish politics, I was asked much more personal ones like if I would see my sister when I went home and how my skiing skills were coming along. I am more comfortable as well. Even though I’m still learning about Turkey and about myself with each interaction, I am not as googly-eyed.  I think I am actually taking in more since I have a bank of basic knowledge. From simple things like being able to distinguish a male from a female name when someone tells me the name of their child to knowing that helva is usually store-bought, not homemade, to more substantial knowledge like what someone is doing when they excuse themselves to the corner to pray, I can ask more competent questions and have deeper conversations. This weekend was a lovely reminder of that. Even knowing a few proper phrases to adequately thank your host for their hospitality can make a big difference. I constantly say thank you” in Turkish to express my gratitude but this surprisingly and unfortunately does not translate very well. Instead, when someone feeds you, you should say what translates as “health to your hands” or just “may God bless your family.” When someone visits, you wish them health to their feet. When someone drives you in their new car, you congratulate them on their purchase. I heard myself using these phrases (even if still awkwardly in my Turk-English) and I could tell that it mattered-I could thank them in a way that meant something to both them and me. 

           These feelings harken me back to a conversation I had with Salih, the husband of one of my professor’s at CUA, on the Red Line during one of my commutes back to Catholic from Georgetown sometime last year. Salih is the reason I’m in Erzurum right now. He hooked me up with his friend who organized the trips to Turkey last summer, my first experience in the country. He further inspired me to take Turkish and apply for the Fulbright. Anyway, he was telling me that he had started taking Arabic classes and was telling me about his struggles with learning the new alphabet. I asked him why he chose to take on another language when he already speaks three. He told me it was necessary for his studies in comparative religion but also cited a proverb (was it Turkish? was it Arabic? I can’t remember) that said something along the lines that when you study a language, your soul grows. I liked the phrase then. I think I understand it now. Disregarding the literal meaning of language for a second, I do believe that with the greater understanding of Erzurum, of Turkish culture, and of Islam that I’ve gained these past few months, my soul has grown. I’ve been able to connect with people on a deeper level. Turkish hospitality has remained the same, the way I’m able to receive it has changed. And I’m very grateful for that!

What skiing on the coldest place on Earth looks like.

Essential to English Language Learning

My students have taught me so many folk dances over the semester, I decided to teach them the "Wobble" on the last day of class. I wish I had video evidence of me attempting to do the "Kolbasti" and "Horon" as well, my students only chose to record this one. Next term.

One of my students told me that if climate change was called "global freezing", people would pay more attention. It's -11 F and I'm about to go skiing. Why did people decide to settle on this frigid steppe? Paris, Warsaw and Detroit are going to be balmy.