Here is another project I was working on this fall. I made two blankets for a friend's cousins last weekend. I've also been having a lot of fun teaching some younger girls (ages 11-12) how to make blankets like this. We've been having a lot of fun together, talking about Hannah Montana and High School Musical!
Monday, November 19, 2007
Craft Project #2
Here is another project I was working on this fall. I made two blankets for a friend's cousins last weekend. I've also been having a lot of fun teaching some younger girls (ages 11-12) how to make blankets like this. We've been having a lot of fun together, talking about Hannah Montana and High School Musical!
Wednesday, November 14, 2007
Curiosity Killed the Class
Something that can frustrate me sometimes is people's curiosity at inopportune times. Minnesota is pretty infamous for this. I especially notice this during rush hour. A car accident is never the sole problem for stopping traffic. The real problem is when people slow down to see who probably hit whom, how bad the accident is, etc.
Since arriving in Turkey, I've seen my fair share of situations requiring an ambulance. Mostly, these situations involve car accidents, motorcyclists getting hit, etc. An interesting phenomenon that usually happens when an ambulance is called, is that people come out of the cracks to stand around the ambulance watching. Never once have I seen these people actually helping. They simply form a semi-circle around the back door of the ambulance, straining to see inside, waiting for a glimpse of what? I don't know, until the ambulance doors close and it drives away.
Yesterday during class, an ambulance pulled up right next to the window of our classroom. I had noticed it but didn't draw attention to it, knowing the interruption that it would cause for the class. A group of ten students had already formed outside our window, behind the ambulance. In the middle of an activity, the students realized something was happening outside, and all ran to the window to see what was going on. I tried to get them to sit down and continue working, but at all times, at least three people were at the window giving a play-by-play. By this time, at least fifty students were all huddled around the ambulance outside. I asked my students over and over to sit down. One girl finally said to me, "Aren't you curious? Aren't you worried that it is someone you know?" "If it is," I said, "I'll find out later!" She looked at me like I was the coldest, most heartless person she had ever met.
The class would not relax until the ambulance was out of sight and the crowd outside our window was gone. My class was ruined, my students thought me heartless, and we found out nothing about the accident by watching out the window. Whether it was my impatience with my students or impatience with this curiosity at inopportune times that upset me so much, I don't know. Either way, I guess I need more patience!
Since arriving in Turkey, I've seen my fair share of situations requiring an ambulance. Mostly, these situations involve car accidents, motorcyclists getting hit, etc. An interesting phenomenon that usually happens when an ambulance is called, is that people come out of the cracks to stand around the ambulance watching. Never once have I seen these people actually helping. They simply form a semi-circle around the back door of the ambulance, straining to see inside, waiting for a glimpse of what? I don't know, until the ambulance doors close and it drives away.
Yesterday during class, an ambulance pulled up right next to the window of our classroom. I had noticed it but didn't draw attention to it, knowing the interruption that it would cause for the class. A group of ten students had already formed outside our window, behind the ambulance. In the middle of an activity, the students realized something was happening outside, and all ran to the window to see what was going on. I tried to get them to sit down and continue working, but at all times, at least three people were at the window giving a play-by-play. By this time, at least fifty students were all huddled around the ambulance outside. I asked my students over and over to sit down. One girl finally said to me, "Aren't you curious? Aren't you worried that it is someone you know?" "If it is," I said, "I'll find out later!" She looked at me like I was the coldest, most heartless person she had ever met.
The class would not relax until the ambulance was out of sight and the crowd outside our window was gone. My class was ruined, my students thought me heartless, and we found out nothing about the accident by watching out the window. Whether it was my impatience with my students or impatience with this curiosity at inopportune times that upset me so much, I don't know. Either way, I guess I need more patience!
Monday, November 12, 2007
Turkish Home Remedies
I haven't been writing very regularly so far this semester. It is definitely not due to a lack of topics! It has been such a busy time and its taken me awhile to adjust to a new schedule. Hopefully I can share more with you about life in Adana in the coming weeks.
There is one story I've been dying to share. The other day, a friend and I were walking through a side street in Gazipasa (a nice neighborhood in Adana,) and we saw a man who was washing his car. As we approached him, I saw he was rubbing something on his car as if it were wax. At the same time, there was an overwhelming smell of gasoline. I said to my friend, "What is that man putting on his car?" "Gas, I guess," he said. "Do you mean wax or oil or something?" I asked. "No. Gas," he said. Let me tell you, it was no small amount of gas, either. I couldn't believe this guy was cleaning his vehicle using gasoline! Gas? Seriously??? We walked away discussing all of the normal, daily circumstances that could send that car up in flames!
I asked my friend if he had ever witnessed anything like that. I was glad to hear that he has never seen or heard of anyone else cleaning a car that way. I guess it was just one of those special Turkish home remedies.
There is one story I've been dying to share. The other day, a friend and I were walking through a side street in Gazipasa (a nice neighborhood in Adana,) and we saw a man who was washing his car. As we approached him, I saw he was rubbing something on his car as if it were wax. At the same time, there was an overwhelming smell of gasoline. I said to my friend, "What is that man putting on his car?" "Gas, I guess," he said. "Do you mean wax or oil or something?" I asked. "No. Gas," he said. Let me tell you, it was no small amount of gas, either. I couldn't believe this guy was cleaning his vehicle using gasoline! Gas? Seriously??? We walked away discussing all of the normal, daily circumstances that could send that car up in flames!
I asked my friend if he had ever witnessed anything like that. I was glad to hear that he has never seen or heard of anyone else cleaning a car that way. I guess it was just one of those special Turkish home remedies.
Sunday, October 28, 2007
University Cultural Difference 101
I have been teaching at Cag University for three years now and upon arriving my first year, there were a few things about the school that shocked me. Okay, let's not say a few things; let's say many things. Many things about this particular Turkish, private university shocked me. Things such as not bringing a pencil, dictionary, notebook, or course book to class; respecting the teacher; respecting other students; commonplace cheating; these things still shock me at a university level. Sadly I'm learning to accept these things, and in time I'm learning how to deal with each one individually. But there is one that frustrates me to no end.
The amount of time students are allowed to skip in a year is ghastly. During their prep year at Cag, my students are allowed to skip 100 hours of classes. 100 HOURS! What a great help for those students who maybe get a terminal illness during the school year, but besides terminal illness, my American audience might wonder how a student could possibly skip that much time. Here's the shocking part. In two years, most of my students skip their allotted amount of time, usually up to 95-99 hours. I've had students at 90 hours by the semester break, and I have had at least ten students fail the prep year because they skipped more than 100 hours.
Coming from an American university, this is seriously unbelievable. My Turkish sister-in-law, who I would imagine was an excellent student who really cared about her classes, told me tonight that every year, she would skip as many hours as she was allowed! I can honestly say that in my four years at Bethel, I possibly skipped ten hours. Possibly. If I did, it would have been because of pretty serious illness. For the most part, I really enjoyed my classes and professors, and I really hated getting behind and missing class. I've told this to Turkish friends before, but they find it unbelievable. As incredible it is to me that they can skip 100 hours in a year, so is it incredible to them that I only skipped ten hours in four years.
This is just one example of a university cultural difference that I have been dealing with and trying to understand for the last two years. I have found my own ways of dealing with skipping, but it's still a hard mentality for me to grasp.
The amount of time students are allowed to skip in a year is ghastly. During their prep year at Cag, my students are allowed to skip 100 hours of classes. 100 HOURS! What a great help for those students who maybe get a terminal illness during the school year, but besides terminal illness, my American audience might wonder how a student could possibly skip that much time. Here's the shocking part. In two years, most of my students skip their allotted amount of time, usually up to 95-99 hours. I've had students at 90 hours by the semester break, and I have had at least ten students fail the prep year because they skipped more than 100 hours.
Coming from an American university, this is seriously unbelievable. My Turkish sister-in-law, who I would imagine was an excellent student who really cared about her classes, told me tonight that every year, she would skip as many hours as she was allowed! I can honestly say that in my four years at Bethel, I possibly skipped ten hours. Possibly. If I did, it would have been because of pretty serious illness. For the most part, I really enjoyed my classes and professors, and I really hated getting behind and missing class. I've told this to Turkish friends before, but they find it unbelievable. As incredible it is to me that they can skip 100 hours in a year, so is it incredible to them that I only skipped ten hours in four years.
This is just one example of a university cultural difference that I have been dealing with and trying to understand for the last two years. I have found my own ways of dealing with skipping, but it's still a hard mentality for me to grasp.
Thursday, October 25, 2007
Being a bad friend, Turkish style
Today I experienced two culture clashes that were so strange and uncomfortable when I first arrived to Turkey. Usually these clashes are revolving around a tendency of Turks to be very blunt. For the most part, I am generally able to gracefully take what my friends dish. Today, however, due to my responses in each of the following situations, I realized that I should probably deal with the question of culture clashes and how I will respond to them.
I would like to preface the first situation by saying that to Americans, it is very strange to comment on a negative aspect of a friend's appearance. I have had many conversations about this with my Turkish friends and coworkers. In Turkey, however, it is very normal. "Laura, how many kilos are you?...Don't you wash your face everyday?...Your friend is ugly...You got fat...What's that thing on your face? Is it a zit?..." I could go on and on, but the last example is what I would like to focus on today.
I have a zit. And its big. In America, I would worry about people seeing it, but never commenting on it. Today, however, there were three conversations that went somewhat like this: "Laura what's that thing on your face?" (Blank stare from me.) "Is it a zit? Did you pick it?" (More blank stare.) "You shouldn't pick them. It makes them bigger." (Blank stare accompanied by a scowl.) After the last conversation, I walked away fuming. Does no one in this country ever get zits? Why does it seem they always comment on mine?
A little while later, it was my friend's 27th birthday. She's a girl full of life and energy; someone who I really, truly enjoy being around. We had cake and some food and we were sitting around chatting. "Maybe I'll get married this year," my friend said. "Ah, what do you need that for?" I asked. "I'm 27! I'm getting old!" she replied. I shrugged my shoulders. "Evde kaldin." I said. This pretty much means, "Well, you're the girl whose still at home with her parents, who will continue living with her parents because you're too old to find someone now." I have always found this expression heartless and cruel, especially for the person to whom it is directed. Even if said in the right situation and everyone laughs, its still downright mean. And today I found myself saying it. My friend said, "Yea, I guess you're right." Then I spent the next few minutes feeling horrible and wishing I hadn't said it. (If you're reading this, accept this as another apology.) :)
Thinking about these instances, I've realized that my reactions to the two situations were 1) being so offended about my zit and pissed off at the culture that I had to retreat to my office; and 2) taking advantage of the culture, saying what I think, at the risk of one of my best friends. Sad, right?!? I definitely still haven't found a balance of being okay with bluntness directed towards me, while still being sensitive myself. Hopefully soon I will find such a balance.
I would like to preface the first situation by saying that to Americans, it is very strange to comment on a negative aspect of a friend's appearance. I have had many conversations about this with my Turkish friends and coworkers. In Turkey, however, it is very normal. "Laura, how many kilos are you?...Don't you wash your face everyday?...Your friend is ugly...You got fat...What's that thing on your face? Is it a zit?..." I could go on and on, but the last example is what I would like to focus on today.
I have a zit. And its big. In America, I would worry about people seeing it, but never commenting on it. Today, however, there were three conversations that went somewhat like this: "Laura what's that thing on your face?" (Blank stare from me.) "Is it a zit? Did you pick it?" (More blank stare.) "You shouldn't pick them. It makes them bigger." (Blank stare accompanied by a scowl.) After the last conversation, I walked away fuming. Does no one in this country ever get zits? Why does it seem they always comment on mine?
A little while later, it was my friend's 27th birthday. She's a girl full of life and energy; someone who I really, truly enjoy being around. We had cake and some food and we were sitting around chatting. "Maybe I'll get married this year," my friend said. "Ah, what do you need that for?" I asked. "I'm 27! I'm getting old!" she replied. I shrugged my shoulders. "Evde kaldin." I said. This pretty much means, "Well, you're the girl whose still at home with her parents, who will continue living with her parents because you're too old to find someone now." I have always found this expression heartless and cruel, especially for the person to whom it is directed. Even if said in the right situation and everyone laughs, its still downright mean. And today I found myself saying it. My friend said, "Yea, I guess you're right." Then I spent the next few minutes feeling horrible and wishing I hadn't said it. (If you're reading this, accept this as another apology.) :)
Thinking about these instances, I've realized that my reactions to the two situations were 1) being so offended about my zit and pissed off at the culture that I had to retreat to my office; and 2) taking advantage of the culture, saying what I think, at the risk of one of my best friends. Sad, right?!? I definitely still haven't found a balance of being okay with bluntness directed towards me, while still being sensitive myself. Hopefully soon I will find such a balance.
Tuesday, October 16, 2007
A funny thing happened on the way home from school...
Yesterday, for the first time in my three years at Cag University, I took the wrong service bus home. Because Cag is so far from Tarsus, Mersin and Adana, the service buses travel all over the cities dropping students off near their homes. My friend Annie and I asked the bus drivers for the bus to our neighborhood, and he said, "The first green bus." We got on the first green bus with no questions.
This was also the day in which I was starting a private lesson at a language school in Adana. If all went well bus-wise, I'd have about 8 minutes to get settled at the school before my student arrived. It wasn't until the driver turned on a freeway headed to the far north part of town that we said, "Uh, where are we going?" "Suleyman Demirel," the driver answered. This neighborhood is a good 40 minutes from where we need to go. Ugh! We got off the bus near a bus route that we recognized and continued on our way to our neighborhood. I called the language school and told them I'd be late.
It was on the minibus to our neighborhood that a very interesting thing happened. There was a mother with two children, maybe 2 and 8, sitting in front of Annie and me. As I was watching them, I thought all of the American out-in-public norms this family broke, things that are completely appropriate in Turkey. It started with the 8-year-old walking up and down the aisles of the moving bus entertaining herself; then the 2-year-old crawling all over the seat completely unrestrained (also in the moving bus); the mother carelessly watching out the window, sometime reprimanding (usually with a click of her tongue) but most of the time giving freedom to her children. I guess the strange thing for me was that I often trip and fall on moving buses. I know multiple people who have been injured on buses from unexpected turns, sharp stops, etc. Surely this mother is aware of these things, she just trusted that her children would be fine.
The moment I won't forget is the 8-year-old walking to the open window of the bus and shamelessly throwing her wrapper out the window. I said to Annie, "I can't believe that just happened!" To which Annie replied, "You can't? I can!" We both laughed. Throwing garbage out a window is something I've been trained not to do for as long as I can remember! Maybe someday, that message will reach Turkey.
Annie and I finally made it to our neighborhood, I was a half-hour late for my lesson, but so was my student. We had an entertaining bus ride, and saw a different part of town. I can say I learned from the experience, though. I was definitely much more careful today to get on the right bus to come home!
This was also the day in which I was starting a private lesson at a language school in Adana. If all went well bus-wise, I'd have about 8 minutes to get settled at the school before my student arrived. It wasn't until the driver turned on a freeway headed to the far north part of town that we said, "Uh, where are we going?" "Suleyman Demirel," the driver answered. This neighborhood is a good 40 minutes from where we need to go. Ugh! We got off the bus near a bus route that we recognized and continued on our way to our neighborhood. I called the language school and told them I'd be late.
It was on the minibus to our neighborhood that a very interesting thing happened. There was a mother with two children, maybe 2 and 8, sitting in front of Annie and me. As I was watching them, I thought all of the American out-in-public norms this family broke, things that are completely appropriate in Turkey. It started with the 8-year-old walking up and down the aisles of the moving bus entertaining herself; then the 2-year-old crawling all over the seat completely unrestrained (also in the moving bus); the mother carelessly watching out the window, sometime reprimanding (usually with a click of her tongue) but most of the time giving freedom to her children. I guess the strange thing for me was that I often trip and fall on moving buses. I know multiple people who have been injured on buses from unexpected turns, sharp stops, etc. Surely this mother is aware of these things, she just trusted that her children would be fine.
The moment I won't forget is the 8-year-old walking to the open window of the bus and shamelessly throwing her wrapper out the window. I said to Annie, "I can't believe that just happened!" To which Annie replied, "You can't? I can!" We both laughed. Throwing garbage out a window is something I've been trained not to do for as long as I can remember! Maybe someday, that message will reach Turkey.
Annie and I finally made it to our neighborhood, I was a half-hour late for my lesson, but so was my student. We had an entertaining bus ride, and saw a different part of town. I can say I learned from the experience, though. I was definitely much more careful today to get on the right bus to come home!
Thursday, September 27, 2007
My new favorite quote
For the last month, I've been reading The Innocents Abroad by Mark Twain. What a fabulous book. He describes a three month trip abroad to Europe and the Middle East in 1867. It is fascinating to read about the places I have visited recently through the lens of the 1860's. I will probably be sharing more with you as I continue reading, but I keep thinking about a quote that I read. One of the things I love about this book is how different the world was 150 years ago, but how truths like this can still ring so true.
"Travel is fatal to prejudice, bigotry, and narrow-mindedness, and many of our people need it sorely on these accounts. Borad, whjolesome, charitable niews of men and things cannot be acquired by vegetating in one little corner of the earth all one's lifetime. "
"Travel is fatal to prejudice, bigotry, and narrow-mindedness, and many of our people need it sorely on these accounts. Borad, whjolesome, charitable niews of men and things cannot be acquired by vegetating in one little corner of the earth all one's lifetime. "
Saturday, September 22, 2007
A Sunday Drive, Turkish-style
Last weekend, Rana (my sister-in-law), Jake and I visited Rana's family's summer house in Arsuz. Arsuz is a small town on the Mediterranean Sea, and a great place to escape the heat and noise of the city. We had a fun time with Rana's family. (I didn't realize how much I had missed Rana's mother's cooking!) It was an all-around great weekend.
On Sunday afternoon, Jake suggested a Sunday drive. When we were young, our parents would occasionally take us for drives on Sunday after church. We would go out into the countryside for a few hours, looking at the fields, the scenery, maybe drive around a lake; really wherever the car took us. I'm not positive that we completely understood or appreciated those drives as children, but it is a great way to see some of the sights in our area of Turkey. After Jake's suggestion, Rana's brother said, "To where will you drive?" Jake explained that he didn't know...maybe we'd visit a historical site nearby, maybe just drive by the sea, but he didn't really know. After some convincing, Jake, Rana, Rana's brother's family and I all set out on our "Sunday drive."
About three minutes into the drive, the question began popping up again. "To where are we going, Jake?" "I don't know," Jake would explain. Two minutes later, "To where are we going?" "I really don't know. Maybe the mountains." This dialogue repeated itself a few times until we saw a beautiful, rocky beach. Jake pulled into the beach, and we got out. We had a great time collecting rocks, taking pictures, watching the sea and enjoying each other's company. We got in the car, and Jake was going to continue the Sunday drive a bit further until someone said, "We've been gone almost an hour. Maybe we should get back."
Whether its the directionless driving or the ungodly gas prices, it was a strange concept for their family. (In response to the suggestion of a long drive with no endpoint in mind, Rana's mother asked Jake if he peed gasoline.) I remember all-day drives simply to visit a good restaurant in a neighboring state. This drive was a short one, but wonderful at the same time. I think it was a good breaking-in experience for their family. I'll try to post some of the pictures from the beach and maybe next time we'll make it an hour and a half...
On Sunday afternoon, Jake suggested a Sunday drive. When we were young, our parents would occasionally take us for drives on Sunday after church. We would go out into the countryside for a few hours, looking at the fields, the scenery, maybe drive around a lake; really wherever the car took us. I'm not positive that we completely understood or appreciated those drives as children, but it is a great way to see some of the sights in our area of Turkey. After Jake's suggestion, Rana's brother said, "To where will you drive?" Jake explained that he didn't know...maybe we'd visit a historical site nearby, maybe just drive by the sea, but he didn't really know. After some convincing, Jake, Rana, Rana's brother's family and I all set out on our "Sunday drive."
About three minutes into the drive, the question began popping up again. "To where are we going, Jake?" "I don't know," Jake would explain. Two minutes later, "To where are we going?" "I really don't know. Maybe the mountains." This dialogue repeated itself a few times until we saw a beautiful, rocky beach. Jake pulled into the beach, and we got out. We had a great time collecting rocks, taking pictures, watching the sea and enjoying each other's company. We got in the car, and Jake was going to continue the Sunday drive a bit further until someone said, "We've been gone almost an hour. Maybe we should get back."
Whether its the directionless driving or the ungodly gas prices, it was a strange concept for their family. (In response to the suggestion of a long drive with no endpoint in mind, Rana's mother asked Jake if he peed gasoline.) I remember all-day drives simply to visit a good restaurant in a neighboring state. This drive was a short one, but wonderful at the same time. I think it was a good breaking-in experience for their family. I'll try to post some of the pictures from the beach and maybe next time we'll make it an hour and a half...
A Tale of Two Apartments
It is a hot, muggy, 90-some degree day in Adana, Turkey. The date is August 2006. Jake (my brother) and I are in search of a furnished, three bedroom apartment. A realtor tells us there is one available. We look at the apartment. Its in a great location and a good sized apartment, but that's as far as the positive list goes. Its dirty (very dirty,) old, painted green and yellow, one of the bedrooms is locked shut, has a small bathroom, but, all things considered, livable. We take the apartment, considering it is the only furnished apartment in the neighborhood.
Last year, had many adventures in the moving-in process, countless hours spent opening electricity, phone lines and ADSL, countless hours spent waiting for electricians and phone guys to come hook up the stuff, many problems with neighbors and people in our building, a very very cold winter, and my roommates had to move out half-way through the year for a month due to a mold invasion. Altogether, it was an incredibly misearable experience. And I haven't even mentioned the complete doctor's office that was shoved into the locked bedroom, which we got to clean out.
It is now 2007 in Adana, Turkey. We are in search of a new, un-furnished apartment. We check out three great apartments in the area, all of which are new, clean, spacious, and very attractive, all in their own way. We had a great experience with our realtors and chose an apartment. Meeting with our landlord went amazingly smoothly. During the time with him, he told us the electicity and water can stay registered in his name. He lives in the same building, so if we have any problems, we can contact him extremely easily. Great location, new building, no waiting, no mold, and very few surprises. The only surprises so far have been great, God-sent type surprises.
We are extremely happy and extremely comfortable in the new place. We keep comparing the experiences and thinking about how completely different the moving in process has been so far. I feel like we've been paid back in full for the heartache that was last year's experience!
Last year, had many adventures in the moving-in process, countless hours spent opening electricity, phone lines and ADSL, countless hours spent waiting for electricians and phone guys to come hook up the stuff, many problems with neighbors and people in our building, a very very cold winter, and my roommates had to move out half-way through the year for a month due to a mold invasion. Altogether, it was an incredibly misearable experience. And I haven't even mentioned the complete doctor's office that was shoved into the locked bedroom, which we got to clean out.
It is now 2007 in Adana, Turkey. We are in search of a new, un-furnished apartment. We check out three great apartments in the area, all of which are new, clean, spacious, and very attractive, all in their own way. We had a great experience with our realtors and chose an apartment. Meeting with our landlord went amazingly smoothly. During the time with him, he told us the electicity and water can stay registered in his name. He lives in the same building, so if we have any problems, we can contact him extremely easily. Great location, new building, no waiting, no mold, and very few surprises. The only surprises so far have been great, God-sent type surprises.
We are extremely happy and extremely comfortable in the new place. We keep comparing the experiences and thinking about how completely different the moving in process has been so far. I feel like we've been paid back in full for the heartache that was last year's experience!
The semi-new blog
Hey everyone! If you're reading this, you saw that I've switched my blog to blogspot from wordpress. Hopefully I can start understand this new system soon. In the meantime, I'll try to keep you updated on my life here in Adana. Miss you all!
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