I am no longer legally allowed to access this blog.
This post was sent to my family in America through email, and from there they were able to upload it. But if I attempt to access, the site, I get a blank page with the words “Bu siteye erişim mahkeme kararıyla engellenmiştir.” Access to this site has been disabled due to court decision. Blogspot has now joined the list of more than 4,000 other sites on Turkey’s “Black List”, sites that are banned due to material that violates some Turkish law. That sounds fairly reasonable, but then again, violations of Turkish law include such crimes as “insulting Turkishness”. The Turkish government regularly imprisons journalists and shuts down publications that voice views opposing their own. This is a country that believes it should be in the EU?
Let me be clear - I love Turkey. I really mean no offense. Yet I must admit that are some aspects of this place that, eight months of complete immersion later, still bewilder me. Actually, the more time I’ve spent here, the more deeply confused I have become. Turkey is an enigma, an entanglement of thousands of years and colliding cultures. Just as one thinks they’ve finally got it figured out, a new element appears that shatters the entire portrait they’ve attempted to create. Turkey lives in the gray area, not fitting into any of the classifications we attempt to mark it with. It is, at its very root, a culture of contradictions.
The first thing everyone, from guidebooks to textbooks to locals always mentions about this culture is that it is a “bridge between East and West”. Turkey prides itself on being the geographic, cultural and political link between the Middle East to its east and Europe to the west. Yet its self-proclaimed status of in-betweener has left Turkey somewhat excluded from both camps – a foreigner to all. It is not in the EU (despite no shortage of effort), yet also certainly not a part of any Arab alliances. The population’s Caucasian ethnicity differentiates it from its eastern neighbors while its Muslim faith separates it from the Christian western world. Yet these surface differences are only that – the surface.
The deeper reflection of Turkey’s identity as a country lies in its people. The only way to observe a people as a whole is through their culture. Yet after eight months of observing and taking part in this culture, the only conclusion I have come to is that one simply can’t draw any conclusions about Turkey. The one and only constant is that whatever you may find here, its contradiction is here as well.
Walk through one of Istanbul’s massive malls and you will find yourself following a group of women attired in full burkas, while a gaggle of teenage girls in tiny mini shorts and all bearing the latest Gucci handbags walk behind you. The malls themselves feature a glossy selection of western stores, from Starbucks to large lingerie menageries, yet just downstairs have their own indoor bazaars, bright with an infinite variety of herbs and spices and bins upon bins of colorful Turkish Delight (a gummy sort of candy). Foreigners flock here to see its rich history and ancient traditions, yet modern Turkey is most eager to show off its newest, shiniest, most Western innovations. This is the culture’s inherent paradox. One of many.
Yet it is partially these very inconsistencies that make Turkey what is, and it is precisely these fascinating contradictions that drew me here in the first place. I was (and find I still am) enchanted by this country’s fascinating teeter between Europe and the Middle East. Whatever the myriad causes and possible effects its internal tug-of-war may be, the result is without a doubt an enthralling place.
Friday, May 6, 2011
Thursday, February 24, 2011
Öğrendiğim Şeyler
I seem to be at the midway point with just about everything now. Five months have passed since I left my little town. It sounds like such a long time, and also such a short time, for all that has happened, and all that has changed. Five months left now. My school has just begun its second semester, I am about to move in with a second family, and a definite shift has begun to occur. I don’t know why, but I feel certain this next half will be even better than the last. I also know it’s going to go by really, really fast.
While I’m feeling all reflective, I figured I would try writing down all the things that I’ve learned so far. So here it is:
In my first five months in Turkey, I have learned:
that ‘strange’ is a very relative term, and the term ‘normal’ is utterly non-existent.
that in order to find what is most important, simply leave behind everything and see what you miss the most.
that I had didn’t have much idea what the truly important things were.
that deep honesty is much easier in a foreign language, especially to oneself.
that that condition applies, even when the foreign language in question is harder to learn than Japanese, and more closely related to Korean, Mongolian and Hungarian than any other language I’ve ever heard.
that there is a morphologic process of partial reduplication to enhance the meaning of Turkish adjectives and adverbs, but absolutely no pattern for predicting this, unless the adjective starts with a vowel, in which case the last letter of the suffix will be p. Unless extra random letters are added. Of course.
the material for a small book of such grammar.
that even with all of that, I am still at a loss to understand the overly-dramatic Turkish soap operas.
that I really should have paid more attention to Ms. Knecktel when learning 7th grade grammar. (Knowing what an operative clause is would be very helpful now.)
I have learned
how to take care of myself in one of the biggest cities of the world.
what everyone always found so remarkable about the fact that I lived in a town of about 2000.
the order of every stop along the main İstanbul metro line, even though I had never set foot on a metro by myself before.
that the best way to figure out how where you are, is to get utterly and completely lost, and then find your way home.
that after doing this several times, being asked for directions yourself (and being able to give them) becomes incredibly satisfying.
I learned
that just because you’ve been stick-thin all your life doesn’t mean you can’t put on as much weight as anyone when faced with full force of Turkish cuisine.
how to iron.
how to play hockey on the second floor of a mall, in a square rink with no zambonis to be found for kilometers.
how to think in the metric system.
how to manage my own finances.
how to be a big sister.
I’ve learned
how to pick foreigners out of a crowd in a second’s glance.
to hear an English conversation from the other side of the bus amidst a loud chorus of Turkish.
what being an American means, to me and to the rest of the world.
that actually, I’m prouder of my country than I thought I was.
that being a ‘crazy foreigner’ is incredibly liberating.
that sometimes the best thing one can do is simply shrug and see how things work out.
the value of family.
that family is what you make of it, not what you’re born with.
independence.
interdependence.
how very much I don’t know.
that gratitude is the single best thing one can have in life’s pursuit of ever-elusive happiness.
that there is no way I can put all I’ve learned into words.
While I’m feeling all reflective, I figured I would try writing down all the things that I’ve learned so far. So here it is:
In my first five months in Turkey, I have learned:
that ‘strange’ is a very relative term, and the term ‘normal’ is utterly non-existent.
that in order to find what is most important, simply leave behind everything and see what you miss the most.
that I had didn’t have much idea what the truly important things were.
that deep honesty is much easier in a foreign language, especially to oneself.
that that condition applies, even when the foreign language in question is harder to learn than Japanese, and more closely related to Korean, Mongolian and Hungarian than any other language I’ve ever heard.
that there is a morphologic process of partial reduplication to enhance the meaning of Turkish adjectives and adverbs, but absolutely no pattern for predicting this, unless the adjective starts with a vowel, in which case the last letter of the suffix will be p. Unless extra random letters are added. Of course.
the material for a small book of such grammar.
that even with all of that, I am still at a loss to understand the overly-dramatic Turkish soap operas.
that I really should have paid more attention to Ms. Knecktel when learning 7th grade grammar. (Knowing what an operative clause is would be very helpful now.)
I have learned
how to take care of myself in one of the biggest cities of the world.
what everyone always found so remarkable about the fact that I lived in a town of about 2000.
the order of every stop along the main İstanbul metro line, even though I had never set foot on a metro by myself before.
that the best way to figure out how where you are, is to get utterly and completely lost, and then find your way home.
that after doing this several times, being asked for directions yourself (and being able to give them) becomes incredibly satisfying.
I learned
that just because you’ve been stick-thin all your life doesn’t mean you can’t put on as much weight as anyone when faced with full force of Turkish cuisine.
how to iron.
how to play hockey on the second floor of a mall, in a square rink with no zambonis to be found for kilometers.
how to think in the metric system.
how to manage my own finances.
how to be a big sister.
I’ve learned
how to pick foreigners out of a crowd in a second’s glance.
to hear an English conversation from the other side of the bus amidst a loud chorus of Turkish.
what being an American means, to me and to the rest of the world.
that actually, I’m prouder of my country than I thought I was.
that being a ‘crazy foreigner’ is incredibly liberating.
that sometimes the best thing one can do is simply shrug and see how things work out.
the value of family.
that family is what you make of it, not what you’re born with.
independence.
interdependence.
how very much I don’t know.
that gratitude is the single best thing one can have in life’s pursuit of ever-elusive happiness.
that there is no way I can put all I’ve learned into words.
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